#hamantaschen moment

[fulane-de-tal]

poppy seed hamantashen

[murderballadeer]

i had a dream about eating a daifuku filled with like poppyseed hamantaschen filling instead of red bean paste and now i need to figure out how to make that bc it sounds so good… need that jewish/japanese fusion moment

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Can I say that I'm SO excited for this rec? It's always so much fun to host a guest in the library, and I have loved reaching out and making new connections with people I hadn't talked with before, but it's EXTRA fun when the reccer is already a friend AND when she recs a brilliant fic that I hadn't previously read! I don't know what else to say about this lovely writer than she's a wonderful and positive addition to our fandom, and a dear friend of mine. Without further ado, here is @nv-md to share our April Happy Hour Rec!

On a normal day, my inbox is not usually a source of joy. Bills, ads, work, and more ads, means that I spend most of my time avoiding emails at all costs.

However, an email from AO3 brings me nothing but joy.

An email that one of my favorite authors has written another seven thousand words (that I get to savor for free in the middle of the produce section while ignoring the poor man behind me who just wants to buy squash)? 

Well, there’s no greater joy than that.

And I’ll be taking zero comments at this time about how much I rely on fanfic for serotonin.

So, onto the fic in question!

I cannot recommend InnerLilith’s work enough. Like honestly, all of her fics are bangers and you should feel free to stop looking at this post to go and read them all right this moment. But, if you want to stick around, I’d love to tell you about ‘I’m lying when I’m looking away’.

I'm lying when I'm looking away by InnerLilith (6,757 words, rated E)

Sometimes it takes a Purim party and a flapper dress for Harry to figure out what he likes. (Spoiler: He likes Malfoy.)

This fic features: Jewish holidays and traditions, Draco in a flapper dress, flustered Harry, hilarious banter, meaningful discussions about gender norms, the smuttiest smut that ever smutted, and a soft ending that melted my heart.

I fell into this story headfirst and it was nothing but delightful from start to finish.

Harry’s POV is perfect. He’s a goddamn mess, has no idea which way is up, and waxes poetic about Draco’s legs and skin and lips and collarbones, and generally makes a fool of himself in front of all of his friends. Classic Harry James Potter behavior that I will never get enough of.

“Then he was striding over, all that leg just exposed, so Harry could see the muscles shifting with each step, the ripple of satin over his hinging joints, the soft, dark promise of what hid underneath.”

Draco is cool and confident (omg the snark), his legs are long, his dress is short, and I love him as much as Harry does. Honestly, I think about Draco in a flapper dress at least once a day.

“Malfoy certainly seemed to think nothing of it, sauntering around like he was born in that flapper dress. And maybe that’s what the big deal was for Harry, actually—how Malfoy acted like it wasn’t a big deal at all, and how he was right.”

Everyone is at the Purim party, including our beloved Fred (who lives), and they all make cameos as they watch Harry drool over Draco. If I tried to include all my favorite parts, then I would just have to copy the entire fic into this rec, but just know, the gang’s all here and it’s wonderful and brilliant. Lilith nails each voice, their costumes are hysterical (I will never recover from Luna as a demiguise), and I wish I was cool enough to be invited to their party.

In between eating hamantaschen and celebrating with wine, Harry and Draco circle each other all night. They’re not enemies, but it’s clear they don’t quite know how to be friends either, and they’re so obviously into each other that you can’t help but root for them to figure it out. There’s just enough ‘will they or won’t they’ to keep you on the edge of your seat and to make the ending that much more satisfying. Then—

THE SMUT! 

That’s all I can say about that because you need to read it yourself—it is delicious—but here’s a little teaser.

“Harry tugged his clothes off frantically, and when Draco brought a hand to the straps of his dress, slanting his brow in a question, Harry said, leave it, leave it, and his voice sounded cracked and desperate.”

This fic has it all and you will not regret one moment spent in this world. I wish that we could gather around a table, drinking and eating and laughing and talking about this fic. Since we can’t do that, please read it and then come and yell at me about it. 

Happy reading and a big hug and kiss to the Librarian, your hard work does not go unnoticed and it is sososo appreciated!

Hugs and kisses back and thank you to @nv-md for joining us for Happy Hour! As always, if you enjoyed a fic, please leave a kudos or comment!

Lots of Love and Happy Friday!

[distantsolarsystemsandsnails]

what do you like to do after school (or like what clubs and stuff are you in)?

thanks for the ask!!

i’m not in any clubs or anything at the moment. i would like to join JSA (jewish students association) and ecology club and i’m currently waiting to attend meetings for both. (actually the JSA meeting is tomorrow! we’re going to make hamantaschen!) i’ve tried being in a few other clubs, like gardening club and comic club, but it didn’t work out. i was in cross country and shot-put freshman year and i liked both, especially shot-put, but i want to have time to do homework and other stuff.

recently my ritual has been coming home after school and just sitting and scrolling on tumblr for hours which kind of sucks. tumblr is great and i’m having fun but i’d like to do other things too. i’d like to read more and maybe draw. i do sometimes go up to my room and cut out little flowers that i watercolored and lined in pen for a project i’m working on and just because it’s meditative. sometimes i listen to gayotic while i do that. i also sometimes walk my dog after school and that can be nice.

what about you?

(sorry, this was really long)

[rosetyler42]

Did this for Purim last year but never posted it. Though I imagine Drac is more the cook in the family, I thought it'd be cute having Drericka learn to make things together, especially considering Ericka learning about the monster culture she once feared/hated. (Plus I love the trope of mixed cultural relationships learning about eachother.) Plus it allows for a sweet step-mom stepdaughter moment.

The cookies are called hamantaschen cookies, or "Haman's ears" a purim treat. I figured they'd be a fun one to monsturize, though I kept the triangle shape to make them recognizeable and get away from blood libel territory.

@gothicthundra @ebevkisk @neo-storm @lovelylivelyv @that-obsessed-gay-girl @sine-qua-noon @chica-chuu @animatedpixie @erickadracula @ericka-van-helsing @erickaanddraculasblog @ericka4ever @elenadracula @drericka @drericka-prompts @drericka-is-lyfe-blog @drerickastan @thenerdynightprincess13 @thesecreatoroftrans @twinklecupcake @f-mhoteltransylvaniacomicseries @kittyball23 @heartsong1994

[mariacallous]

Like so many stuck at home during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, Marlo Gorelick picked up a new hobby: cake decorating.

She learned all the trendy techniques of the day, from of-the-moment decorations to how to properly layer colorful cakes and jams in order to create the all-popular rainbow cake.

But, unlike the myriad cottage food businesses that Jewish entrepreneurs launched during and after the pandemic, Gorelick’s cakes stood out for one significant reason: They weren’t edible. But don’t mistake this as a commentary on Gorelick’s baking skills: Gorelick’s cakes were never intended for eating. Rather, they’re designed to be worn —  as purses. 

“My husband said to me, ‘If you bake, you’re going to burn the house down,’” Gorelick told the New York Jewish Week. “So I took cake and I married it with something that my mother loved, which was handbags.”

During the pandemic she launched Cake Purses — a line of highly decorative vegan leather bags in the shape of confectionery, such as carrot cake and strawberry shortcake. Some of her bags, which can be found on her social media, are bedazzled with crystal stones while others are painted; all come with a zipper in the back to store items in the satin-lined interior.

Last summer, Gorelick wanted to find a new direction for her business. She began experimenting with creating purses in the shape of classic Ashkenazi Jewish foods: challahs, bagels and that New York City classic, black and white cookies. 

“I said goodbye to it [cake purses] because I saw that people were just icing boxes and getting tons of hits and money from it,” Gorelick recalled. “I thought, ‘What am I doing? This is silly. This is ridiculous.’” 

She began to roll out her first few Jewish food designs ahead of the High Holidays — but then, Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack on Israel gave her pause. Gorelick admits she was “scared” about being so outwardly Jewish. “I didn’t want anything bad to happen to me or anybody, so I tabled it,” she said.

But life had other plans. After a major illness the following month, Gorelick returned from the hospital knowing that pivoting her business towards Judaism was ultimately “what I was meant to do,” she said. And so, earlier this month, Gorelick, who is based in Princeton, New Jersey, officially launched Glam Judaica, a new line of Jewish food-themed purses and accessories that includes a rhinestone-covered matzah ball soup bag and a very realistic looking potato knish purse. She’s also crafted purses in the shape of Jewish holiday-specific treats like hamantaschen and sufganiyot.

“I’d gone through this near-death experience where so many things had been taken from me. I said to myself, ‘You can’t take away my Judaism — I will always be that,’” she said. “If I’m going to do this [make food purses], I’m going to do it with things that are near and dear to me.’” 

Gorelick grew up in a Conservative Jewish family in New Jersey, and said that Judaism is a major part of her life and identity. “My grandfather immigrated from Kyiv, in what is now Ukraine, to escape pogroms. My father’s mother’s side of the family was in the Holocaust. My mother’s family escaped Russia. So [Judaism] is fully ingrained in me,” she said. 

During the pandemic, Gorelick’s spangled designs made their way around the internet and to several craft and candy expo shows in the Tri-State area. She also partnered with the iconic East Side restaurant Serendipity3 last year to create exclusive “Frrrrozen Hot Chocolate” purses to celebrate the 30 millionth serving of its “world famous” sweet treat.

For now, she makes the Glam Judaica bags, which are generally between six and 10 inches wide, to order. Gorelick, who runs the business by herself with some design and content creation help from her husband, said it takes her up to three weeks to create a purse.

The Glam Judaica line includes bracelets, necklaces and pins. She adorns one of her bracelets with five different miniature food charms — a hamantaschen, bagel, black and white cookie, rugelach and challah — and decorates a shiny bagel pin with lox, onions and capers. Each item, including the purses, starts around $125, Gorelick said, though she adjusts the prices depending on the type of material and “bling” the customer wants. 

The response so far to her new Jewish collection has been “fabulous,” Gorelick said.

“People see it, they identify with it,” she said. “It’s a bit of nostalgia and they want it,  because that’s the cookie they baked with their bubbe or that’s what they served when they had their bar or bat mitzvah.”

But Gorelick is not done with cakes quite yet. In addition to Jewish food designs, Gorelick recently made a yellow cake purse with the words “Bring Them Home” written in white “frosting” to raise awareness for the 100-plus Israeli hostages still held in Gaza. Gorelick also used the proceeds for one of her other creations — a rainbow sprinkle black and white cookie purse — to raise money for Zaka, Israel’s volunteer emergency response teams. 

“Everything I do is a little bit glitzy and glammy because that’s who I am,” Gorelick said. “My stuff is not for everybody — I get that. But if you like a little bit of sparkle and something to make you smile, I have something sweet and sparkly for you.”

[saprophetic]

last year (maybe year before?) my roommate was making hamantaschen for the first time and a moment i will never ever forget is being in the living room and hearing him open the oven and very softly say "oh no..." because they were so fucking ugly

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i absolutely adored this! ugh they’re so cute 💕

Guilt rang through his body whenever he thought of her. Spending time with her was more enjoyable than he had expected. But he never meant to get so caught up, to kiss her. It was a mistake. A huge, cosmic mistake. - i hope he isn’t gone too long? she’s gonna think he really didn’t like her and is ghosting him because i can’t imagine if enough time goes by that she doesn’t talk with may 🥺

Someone who didn’t suffocate her light, like he did. - oh 🥺 peter no

All three Peter Parker's knew someone named MJ. Two out of the three were in a romantic relationship with them. Peter himself was on that path before he ran away from it. Fuck. - wait i LOVE this!!!! he’s like why am i fighting this? also peter 2 nodding when mj asked if he was okay in the movie was one of my favorite parts, he finally had closure

"I'll see you tomorrow and I promise I'll bring ya some hamantaschen from the deli on twelfth street!" Peter hung up and tucked his phone in his pocket. - oooooo lucky aunt may! also the yiddish curse was inspired, perfect

“Thank you for….tonight. It was nice to see this side of you.” Though only for a brief moment, he foolishly thought she was referring to Peter. - no! sweet girl! she’s trying to say goodbye 🥺 she has to know it’s him, she’s too smart. and then when he slips and says she’s pure sunshine!?!!

"Also, I like that you're different from me…it's one of my favorite things about you." - it’s why they work so well together 🤭 ugh they’re so so cute!

Here Comes the Sun 3/3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 Playlist

Summary: An unexpected journey causes Peter to learn new things and make revelations.

Warnings: AFAB!reader, language, talk and description of depression and anxiety. Reader is given a name but it's very brief (and you can ignore it if you want)

Up until recently, Peter never understood why people focused on yesterday. He was always glad to go on with the next day. It meant he survived whatever plagued him the night before, whether it be a weekly villain or his own personal demons. 

It meant he had another chance to try to make up for his past mistakes. He never wanted to harp on the day before, it wouldn't change anything. He learned that a long time ago. 

But now?

He believed in yesterday. 

He’d give anything to go back to his own world. It was so off-putting. Everything looked so familiar and yet was completely different. This world had Spider-Man and Peter Parker in it, but it wasn’t the same. 

Why was he here? How did he get here? To this new universe? Did time work differently here? How long had he been gone from his own world? It could have been a difference of just a few hours or days. Did May notice he was gone?

His mind immediately went to the little ball of sunshine that he had run away from

Guilt rang through his body whenever he thought of her. Spending time with her was more enjoyable than he had expected. But he never meant to get so caught up, to kiss her. It was a mistake. A huge, cosmic mistake. 

Because as baffling and as confusing and as charming and as adorable as she was, he never meant to hurt her. Despite his best efforts to avoid eye contact as he left, he couldn’t help it. He looked at her. He saw the pain in her now dull eyes, the anger. 

This was for the best, right? Now she could move on. Find someone who could actually laugh and smile and relax. Someone who shined as bright as her. Someone who didn’t suffocate her light, like he did. 

Peter turned his attention back to his current predicament. He had always wondered about multiple universes and their existence. He even researched it during college. When questioned about it, Peter responded that it was simply “a cool theory”. 

The truth was that Peter theorized that if multiple universes were real, multiple versions of a person could also be real. 

And the teenager who shared the same name only strengthened that theory. 

Which was why, selfishly, the first thing Peter did was to test out a theory he had since he was nineteen. 

He had to see if she was out there.

—--------- 

She died in 2012. One of the many casualties in the Battle of New York. Peter had searched all over the city for her (it was easy to go unnoticed when folks believed you were just dressing up for money and pictures). His search led him to a cemetery. The sight was familiar but also sickeningly. 

She had died while helping a young boy. Protected him, sacrificed herself. 

Was that Gwen's fate, no matter the universe? 

Was the universe that cruel? How could someone so bright be tied to such a fate? 

Peter stared hard at the tombstone. The sight never became easier to stomach. 

"I don't…..I don't know if you're the same as my Gwen. You share the same name. So hopefully it's not weird that I'm talking to you," Peter then muttered, "he says to a tombstone." 

This wasn't his first time. Her tombstone was all he had left of Gwen. While he didn't visit every day of the week like he once did, it was still a sacred site for him. In a twisted way, it was comforting. It felt like she was somehow still there. 

"I….I met this girl. And you…you would have really liked her. She's funny and doesn’t hesitate to give it right back to me. She's pretty bright too. Different from you. Not saying she isn't smart, but she's….she just has this weird tendency to light up a room when she walks in. Her name is Eppie, and she sometimes goes by MJ, but I call her Sunshine because she's…..she's always smiling and just feels warm." 

Peter rocked himself back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

"I….we went on two dates and at the end of the last one….I kissed her. And what I hated about it was that…I didn't feel guilty for kissing her. I felt more guilt over not feeling guilty," His voice became soft, "Why…why didn't I feel guilty?" 

He knew one potential answer. But that couldn't be it.  

"I know if you could speak to me, you'd tell me to move on. But every time I try to move on, someone gets hurt. I tried to move on from my parents, and I lost Ben. I tried to move on from Ben, and I lost you. If I try to move on from you….I don't want her to get hurt." 

Even if she somehow was able to talk to him, Peter doubted she could give him a comforting answer. 

Folks on the outside would say he had a choice. But he didn't. Peter could never be that selfish again. He could never let someone in, immediately putting them at risk. The value of the potential loss was too high.  

He was supposed to be alone. 

__________________

After learning the fate of this universe's Gwen Stacy, Peter decided to focus on another name. His own. 

Thanks to the numerous TVs plastered in Times Square, he was able to pick up the key details. This young boy was also named Peter Parker, he also had very similar abilities and his secret identity was also Spiderman. At least, it was a secret until recently. 

Though Peter didn't have all the details, it was safe to say he was on Team Spidey. Mysterio was a grown man outing a kid. Anyone who does that could not have good intentions. 

It was safe to assume this version or variation of himself was going through a lot. He was still a kid, still in high school. 

It was also safe to assume that perhaps, this universe's Peter could help him get back home. Surely, if something had to be amiss if he was able to travel into a different world. 

Peter couldn’t tell if it was his Spider-like sense, or the fact that they shared the same name and abilities. But something was troubling the boy. He needed help. 

Perhaps Peter could help him. 

He just had to find him first. 

—----------------------

“Prove it. That you’re Peter Parker.”

Peter never thought he would have to prove who he was. Usually the suit was enough evidence. 

Though, he did respect that this universe’s Peter’s girlfriend was not as easily trusting as her friend. He would have done the exact same thing, if the roles were reversed. 

“Crawl around,” She demanded, bread in hand. Perhaps not teaching high school wasn’t a mistake. But he didn’t blame the young girl. She was being protective, which given all that had been released from his own universe (and potentially others), made total sense.  

It was a lot all at once. Peter hadn’t expected to get berated by two teenagers. Nor did he expect them to confirm that magic existed within their universe. 

Nor did he expect a third Peter Parker. 

Peter foolishly thought he would have the upper-hand due to age. How quickly his hand was webbed proved him wrong. Peter didn’t feel bad for being suspicious-the man reciprocated the same feeling. They both were expecting a much younger Peter Parker. 

It was an odd sight. The idea of being Spider-Man as he got older wasn’t foreign to Peter, it just wasn’t something he thought about. 

More so, he actively chose not to think about it. For so long, he had associated the thought of being older to having settled down. To having a family of his own. 

That was no longer possible. 

So, he didn’t think about it. 

“This might seem kinda weird, but I’ve been trying to find your friend since I got here,” The older Peter explained to the two teenagers. Peter kept his mouth shut, as he knew he couldn’t say the exact same. 

“I just have this sense, that….he needs my help.”

“Our help,” Peter corrected. While looking for this universe’s Peter wasn’t the first thing on his list, it was his priority now. 

“Well, is there some place that he might go, that has meaning to him? Like a place he would just go to-”

“Get away from everything?” Peter finished. Turns out, having a specific spot to clear your head was a universal Peter Parker move. 

Though Peter would still argue he had the spot with the best view. 

_______

Peter watched as MJ and Ned comforted their Peter. He stayed in the background with the oldest Peter, not wanting to be seen just yet. 

“I got some understanding-”

“Please don’t tell me you know what I’m going through. She’s gone. And it’s all my fault” The younger Peter told him. 

He saw himself in the young man. Specifically after Gwen died. The grief was overpowering, radiating off of him. As was the anger. 

The boy was at a crossroads. 

The exact crossroads he was in, nearly ten years ago. 

If this had happened a few years ago, Peter would have told him to bury it. That the best way to honor the lost lives was to completely devote himself to being Spider-Man, to keeping everyone else safe. 

But was that really a life?

The last few weeks of Peter’s life had brought him a haunting realization. 

He was lonely. He was bitter. He had given up everything he as Peter Parker wanted. And all for what? 

Sure, he could say it was to honor Uncle Ben and Gwen. But he knew deep down, they would be saddened if they saw what he had become. They wouldn’t feel honor at all. 

It may be too late for him to turn it around. But this boy still had that chance. He just didn’t know it. Didn’t know that the path he was looking to take was not the right one. Not the one his Aunt May would have wanted for him. And perhaps, that was why the universe sent him here. To prevent the same thing from occurring again. 

“I lost….I lost Gwen. My……she was my MJ.” Peter never talked about this with others. For one, he couldn’t. It was also too painful. But right now, his younger variant’s pain was more important than his own, “I couldn’t save her and I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for that.”

Peter sniffed, trying to hold back the tears, “But I carried on, tried to, um... try to keep going, try to keep being the uh... that “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man,” ‘cause I knew that’s what she would have wanted. But at some point, I just-- I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful. I got bitter.”

These thoughts weren’t new. They had always been looming at the back of Peter’s mind. Always tried to sneak out, tried to make him aware whenever May would suggest setting him up with someone. The thoughts had been on the forefront of his mind ever since meeting….his MJ? It felt weird to call her that, given how the younger Peter also had someone who went by MJ (which was a very weird coincidence). Sunshine. That felt right. Though she wasn’t his Sunshine. 

She would never be. 

Peter tried to shove the thoughts of her away. That’s not what mattered now. Even though his brain kept going back to her. Whether it was memories of their past interactions or wonderings of what she was doing right now, if she had noticed he was gone. 

“I just don’t want you to end up like….like me.” In a way, it was therapeutic. Not that he should be focusing on himself-the younger variant was more important right now. But to actually say it out loud….brought something to Peter. He couldn’t identify whether it was comfort or alleviation. Whatever it was, he hoped it had gotten through to the younger Peter. 

“...Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that, “With great power--”

“”Comes great responsibility.” The oldest Peter finished. 

“Wait, what? How do you know that?”

Maybe they had more in common than they thought. More than just their name and the origin of their powers. 

—------

Another thing all three Peter Parkers had in common was science. They were all really good at it. 

Peter didn’t mind the distraction. He had already figured out a cure for Connors, so making a second one wouldn’t be too difficult. 

But as he looked at the younger Peter and his MJ comfort each other, Peter began to wish he had chosen something more challenging. Where he could focus on the task at hand and not be caught up in the young lovers. 

He saw himself and Gwen. The innocence. The overwhelming yet naive belief that somehow, their love could conquer any obstacle that came their way. 

Peter knew the truth now. And yet, he still found himself longing for it. Which was ridiculous, he knew better. He had known and accepted his reality for years. What was he longing for? To rest his forehead against someone else’s and breathe in their scent of lavender?

Wait, why lavender?

Fuck. Sunshine. She always smelled like lavender. Peter recalled how nauseating it was whenever she leaned into him, the scent filling his nostrils and how he would get distracted by her bright, beautiful eyes and-

“You have someone?” Peter was thankful the oldest Parker variant had snapped him out of his thoughts. Though he wished the question hadn’t been related to what he was thinking. 

“No. I got no time for uh,” He sighed, “Peter Parker stuff, you know?”

The oldest Peter Parker was hard to read. Was he giving a look of understanding? Disappointment? Concern?

“Do you?” Peter asked, hoping for clarification. 

He hesitated, “Uh, that’s a little complicated.” Peter felt relief. It wasn’t just him. Clearly the youngest Parker was just an outlier. 

“No, I understand. It’s just not in the cards for guys like us.” He had hoped, upon seeing the two other variations of himself, that it would validate him. That what he had decided to do, and had intended to do for the rest of his life, was the right choice. 

That when he said it, Peter could actually believe his own words. 

He was wrong. 

 “Well, I wouldn’t give up. It took a while, but…we made it work.” He looked more hopeful

“Yeah?” How? How could he make it work? How was that possible, when it seemed like the universe(s) were giving signs that it wasn’t. 

“Yeah, me and MJ.”

MJ?

“My MJ. It gets confusing here." Peter laughed with the oldest variant before going back to work. It was funny that all three Peter's knew an MJ. 

Wait. 

MJ. 

MJ. 

MJ. 

Holy shit. 

One MJ was nothing. Two was just a coincidence. But three? 

That had to mean something. But what? 

The younger Peter's MJ was definitely his girlfriend. 

While he didn't specify, it was clear the older Peter was romantically involved with his MJ. 

And as for Peter's own MJ…. 

Oh God, he went on two dates with her. He kissed her. 

And he liked it. A lot. 

If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to do it again. Kiss her and spend more time with her. It was the most alive he had felt in years.   

But that couldn't mean….. 

Granted, it was hard to argue with the math. All three Peter Parker's knew someone named MJ. Two out of the three were in a romantic relationship with them. Peter himself was on that path before he ran away from it. 

Fuck. 

Granted, was it really that bad? He did admit to enjoying the time he spent with her. As well as kissing her.   

It was never a heatstroke. Or fever. Or some weird gas the latest villain of the week created. 

He liked her. He felt alive around her. The time he spent with her was the happiest he had felt in years.    

But her being around him was a great risk. She cared, which meant she could get hurt. 

That couldn't happen again. 

—---

He noticed her immediately. How did she end up here? She wasn't supposed to be here.  

This was why Peter was thankful there was no magic in his universe. He couldn't imagine all the shit people would try to pull, that he would have to clean up, as the NYPD would be even more useless.  

The feeling of Deja Vu was strong. It was unsettling. She shouldn't be here. She could get hurt. 

Really hurt. 

As he continued to complete his tasks, Peter kept an eye on this universe’s MJ. Scaffolds were breaking, pumpkin bombs, wizards abound. 

The circumstances may have been different, but the risk was still there. 

Peter could feel it in the pit of his stomach. He had to watch her. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Her Peter had already lost so much. If something happened to her….

Peter-one wouldn’t end up like Peter. He’d be much worse. 

That couldn’t happen. Peter refused. Her life would not be cut short and her Peter would not be broken. 

He ran closer to the ledge as he saw her fall backwards. It felt like that dreadful night at the Tower. The night that no matter how much time had passed, still felt like it had just happened yesterday. 

He saw MJ. He also saw Gwen. He saw his own MJ. All falling down towards the ground. 

For a brief moment, it looked like the younger Peter would be able to reach her in time. He would rescue her, preventing any harm from coming her way.  

Fate had different plans, as that Goblin slammed into him, carrying him away. 

No. Not today. This was not going to happen. 

Peter swung down towards her. Webbing her was too risky, she was falling too fast. Webs wouldn’t be able to save her in time. 

Peter knew this because for the last ten years, he’d laid in bed late at night, replaying this scenario. Analyzing every detail, every action. What he had done and what he should have done differently. 

He knew what to do. What he always wished he could have done. 

He wrapped his arms around her, securing her. He quickly shot a web up towards one of the scaffolds, allowing him to land on his feet with her in his arms. 

She was gasping for air, most likely adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked her. He needed her to respond. He had to hear her talk because otherwise, how would he truly know it had worked? That she was indeed safe?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She whispered.

It worked. He did it. 

What he failed to do ten years ago, he did it just now. Instead of a dead, limp body in his arms, he was holding a living and breathing one. 

He saved her. 

At first it felt bittersweet. It had been so easy, why couldn’t he had done that ten years ago? But if he had…..if webbing had somehow worked ten years ago, who was to say it would have worked now? Would he have even known? 

He was already broken and damaged. But the younger Peter wouldn’t be. 

"Are you okay?" She asked. He shouldn’t be surprised. Usually when you rescue someone, you’re not holding back tears. 

He could only nod his head in response. Neither she or her Peter needed to know what he just saved them from. All the pain, grief, and anguish. 

They never would know, thanks to him. 

He saved them. He saved another person from having to experience what he went through. If he hadn't been here, this universe's Peter would have gone down the same path. But he wouldn't now. 

It was comforting in a way. For the first time in years, Peter felt proud of himself. 

He felt closure. Like this was what he had been working towards all these years. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

Despite all the chaos surrounding them, he felt at peace. 

Perhaps he wasn’t a failure. Perhaps he could still be a hero. Perhaps, not everything he touched was ruined or lost. 

Perhaps he could let a little sunshine in.    

—---------------- 

The rest of the night was a whirlwind. 

Peter peered out of the alleyway, taking in the sights and sounds. In theory, he should be back in his universe.  

But considering everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, he was cautious. 

Everything looked normal. But he had to be sure. 

"Hey yo!" Peter called to a nearby walker, "Are you Team Spidey or Team Mysterio?" 

"Who the fuck is Mysterio?!" 

"I still don't really know either!" Peter exclaimed, swinging away. Whatever had happened to the city while he was gone could wait until tomorrow. He had more important things to do. 

He called her first. He considered going straight to her apartment, but what if she wasn't there? What if she was and just slammed the door in his face? Peter didn't blame her if she did that. 

Calling first would be best. He could ask if they could just talk. He could explain himself (maybe minus the whole Spiderman and traveling to different universes bit). 

Peter had a plan. 

Well, he did. But he failed to account for the possibility that she may not pick up. 

A voicemail wouldn't do. He couldn't spout his feelings over a voicemail. First, who in the world listened to a voicemail that was longer than thirty seconds? Second, what if she misconstrued what he was trying to say? 

Alright, time for plan B. Swing to her apartment. He would check if she was there and if she was, he could swing back to his place, change clothes (maybe shower) and ask for forgiveness. 

She lived in apartment 1062, which was on the left side of the tenth floor. Meaning her balcony would be- 

Peter instantly recognized the array of plants (seriously how many did she need?) And patio furniture. Lights were strung up around but they were off. 

Fuck, her whole apartment was dark. 

She wasn't there. 

He couldn't text her. Texting was super impersonal. Peter refused to be that guy. 

Waiting until she came back was also borderline stalker behavior.  But she wasn't answering her phone so how else was he supposed to figure out where she was? 

Wait. 

May. 

She knew everything. She knew Peter was Spider-Man for five years before he told her. May would know where she was. 

"Oh my god, Peter!" May immediately went off on a tangent as soon as she picked up, "You've been gone for a week! Where on Earth were you?!" 

"Uh…it's kinda a long story. We should definitely be drinking wine when I tell you all about it. But I'm okay! I promise! I would have called you but the reception was really bad." 

"I've been worried sick. I asked Eppie if she had seen you-"

"Eppie?" 

"Oh, does she go by MJ with you?" 

"You mean Sunshine!" Why did she have to have so many names?! Granted, Peter had bestowed the last one himself. 

"Speaking of which, do you know where she is? I uh….we didn't end our last date on the best of terms and it's completely my fault so I need to find her and she's not answering her phone, do you think she's okay?" 

Peter could hear May sighing on the other end, "Uh…Peter, she's….she's on a date." 

Peter's heart didn't just sink. It dropped from twelve floors above. 

It had been a whole week. They weren't official. Hell, they never talked about it, probably because if she brought it up, Peter would have run the other way. 

She moved on. And why not? If he was in her shoes, he'd too jump at the chance to go on a date with someone who wasn't the human embodiment of a rain cloud. 

Was this the end of their story? 

No. Not if Peter could help it.

"Where's her date?" He asked. This could go either really well or absolutely horrible. And the easiest option would be just to assume she had moved on and accepted it. 

Perhaps it was the fact that for the first time in ten years, Peter Parker felt hopeful. 

Whether his hope was making him overly confident, he didn't know. Only one way to find out. 

"I believe her Aunt said they were going to get coffee and a bite to eat. It would have started thirty minutes ago, wait, Peter what are-" 

"I'll see you tomorrow and I promise I'll bring ya some hamantaschen from the deli on twelfth street!" Peter hung up and tucked his phone in his pocket. 

Despite what had happened over the last forty-eight hours, this was probably the bravest thing he was about to do. 

—----

He stopped by the café on Fifth Street first. The one she wanted to visit on their first date. 

To Peter's dismay, she wasn't there. Crap, did she already leave? Peter's stomach twisted in knots at the thought of her date going so well, they were already on their way home. 

He had come so far, this couldn't be the end. 

Wait. 

There was one other coffee place she could have gone to. 

Was it presumptuous of Peter to assume she went to the one they visited on their first date? Maybe. 

It was also his only lead. And it was better than swinging by all the coffee shops within a five mile radius of her apartment building. 

—---------

Peter leaned over the rooftop, trying his best to stay hidden. 

What would he even say to her? Revealing his secret identity in front of nearby strangers was the last thing he wanted. 

He needed to apologize. To explain why he has run away and why he's now back. To ask for forgiveness. 

Would she even want to listen to him? Peter wouldn't blame her for that.  

Well, maybe she would talk to Spider-Man. Maybe he could figure out how she was feeling, without her knowing who she was really talking to. Was it dishonest? Probably. 

But it did give him a chance to see where her head was at. If she said she never wanted to talk to Peter Parker again, he would listen. If she said she was open to talking, he could go home, change, and then- 

"I wouldn't get in that taxi if you paid off my student loans!" A familiar voice interrupted Peter's thoughts.  

Peter looked up and fuck, she was beautiful. Why did he run away in the first place? Because he was stupid and scared. Which he was more than willing to fully admit to- 

Wait, why was she yelling at this dude? 

"We spent a whole hour together, not once did you ask me a question at all, and you think I'm getting into a taxi with you? How draft are you?!" 

"I mean, we can talk at my place-"

"Oh yes, because I'm sure that's exactly what you want to do at your place. 'Talk'!" She said in air quotes. 

For someone so tiny, she sure could hold her own. 

Still, Peter quietly swung down, landing behind her. 

"She does have a point! A whole hour and you didn't ask her one thing?" He said, startling the two. 

When she turned around to look at him, it took Peter's breath away. He missed her. The whole damn time he was away in another universe, his mind always wandered back to her. 

"Look, you're acting like I don't know anything about her!" The guy, who Peter assumed was the date, defended. 

Peter put his hands on his hips, "What's her occupation then?" 

The guy stared blankly at her. She smirked, casting Peter a knowing look. 

"You're….you do theatre!" 

Before he could stop himself, Peter shook his head. Even he wasn't that bad on their first date. Probably because deep down, he wanted to get to know her, even then. 

"I teach first grade!" 

"Dude, she teaches first grade," Peter admonished. It took everything in him not to sound giddy when she smiled at him. 

"Look, it's the first date! How am I supposed to know?!" Peter silently thanked the universe that whoever this dude was, he was not going to wreck his plans. 

"It was on my profile. You know, the thing you're supposed to look at before swiping right?"  She crossed her arms. For someone who was so bright, she had no issue dishing it out. 

Peter loved that. 

"Buddy, at this point, I would just walk away," He suggested. 

"Whatever, this date wasn't even that good!" The man sighed in exasperation. 

"May you be so rich that your widow's husband never has to work a day!" She called out as the man walked away. 

"Did…did you just place a Yiddish curse on him?" Peter asked. She giggled, nodding her head. 

God, she was so cute. And he was such an idiot for letting her go. 

"Thanks, by the way. I could have handled him but it's always nice to have backup." 

Peter almost forgot to respond, getting lost in her eyes, "Oh! Uh yeah! No problem! J-Just part of the whole 'friendly neighborhood Spider-Man' thing! Uh…please tell me you're not going to call him back." 

She laughed, "Absolutely not! To be honest, I…I didn't want to go on this date." 

"Then why go?" 

She shrugged, looking down at the ground, "It's nothing. I'm sure you have much bigger things to worry about than some random person's dating life." 

"Actually it's a quiet night for once!" Peter paused, "I could…I could walk you home? If you want! Obviously you're more than capable of handling yourself but I can always-"

"Actually," she paused, "that would be lovely. It is getting kinda late." 

"Sure! Uh, w-which way should we go? Since I don't know where you live!" He was trying his best to play it cool. He had traveled through different universes now. In theory, he should be able to play it cool. 

"We gotta take a right onto sixth street," She said, smiling. The two began walking. 

"Is walking weird? Since you're so used to swinging around and all," She asked. 

"It's nice to change it up! So uh…what uh what made you go on a date that you didn't want to go on?" He asked. 

Sunshine signed, "I was hoping…it would help me move on from someone else. And unfortunately, that didn't happen. I honestly think it made it worse." 

"You were trying to move on? From someone?" He asked, his voice shaking. Sure, her attempt failed. But the fact she was attempting to forget about him was less than promising. 

"Yeah," She shrugged, fidgeting with her hands, "Trying to move on from someone who didn't want me." 

I do want you, was what he wanted to say. But then that would complicate things even more. His goal here was to understand how she was feeling, so he knew how to approach her as Peter. 

"And you're sure that-that he doesn't want you? I mean, maybe he does!"

She shook her head, "He…I shouldn't be telling you all this, but he lost someone he loved a long time ago. And their death was really hard on him," She stopped walking, looking right at him, "And I don't fault him for that at all. But…I don't think he's ready to move on and I'd rather not wait around to find out, y'know?" 

Peter hated how valid her statement was. He also hated how he couldn't tell her that was she wrong. He was ready to move on. He wanted to move on, to her. 

"I mean….that makes sense," He paused, "But maybe…maybe he does want to move on! Maybe he wants to be with you. I…I don't know the guy, but you never know!" 

She shrugged, "That's the thing I guess. I don't know." 

The two approached the apartment building. Peter didn't feel any closer to accomplishing his goal. 

She turned around, her lips forming into a tight smile. Peter hated that he couldn't get a read on her. He had been hoping that this walk would have granted him the chance to see where her head was at, so he knew exactly how to approach her as Peter Parker. 

“Thank you for….tonight. It was nice to see this side of you.” Though only for a brief moment, he foolishly thought she was referring to Peter. 

Of course not. 

He nodded his head, in understanding, “I’m glad I was able to show it to you.”

She began to dig her heels into the pavement, beginning to turn. Peter’s heart lurched. He began to reach out, as if he would cast her back in, afraid to lose her again. 

“Wait!” He called out. She suddenly turned to him, caught off guard by his urgency. 

“Sorry! It’s just….I think you should give this guy another chance.” That wasn’t entirely how he planned to start that, but since when did anything Peter planned actually come to fruition the way it was originally imagined?

She raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms. Was that a scowl? Was she trying to look intimidating?

It was adorable. 

"I….look, I just….think the chance for that has already passed. Thanks again for walking me home," and with that she walked into her apartment building. 

Fuck that was not how it was supposed to go. He couldn't let it end like that. 

Peter swung up, instantly recognizing the array of plants and matching patio set. The lights turned on, alerting him that he wasn't alone. 

"What the actual fu-" 

"Look, just-I just need you to hear me out and then I promise I'll go away!" He said, putting his hands up to show he meant no harm. 

She leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed. "You have five minutes."  

“I just…yes, he absolutely has shit he needs to work on. Like really work on. Probably needs to speak to a therapist and maybe that is-will- be the first time he ever admits to it. Anyways!” Peter was already out of breath, “He probably knows this and I’m sure he really likes you, he’s just…scared. Well, more like absolutely terrified. Be-because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love and you….you accept that you’ll never get another chance, that you don’t deserve one, and it’s for the best, right? So you accept it and try your best to live your life. And then….you come along and you’re just pure sunshine.”

“Spider-Man, I-”

“I know we just met and I clearly don’t know you. But I’m sure that’s what he calls because no other name would make sense. It’s what you are and it’s everything he’s not and that may or may not have also played a factor in how he acted-again, I don’t know this guy! You're everything he's not and he's probably wondering why you would even give him the time of the day and….he’s just scared. And that doesn't give him the right to have been a total dick to you-”

“Spider-” She tried again. Peter was so wrapped up in his own rambling that he didn’t notice the flash of annoyance in her eyes, or how she threw her hands in the air.

“He’s scared because….you just pop out of nowhere and all of a sudden, this warm, fuzzy, slightly-nauseating feeling comes back and he probably didn’t even recognize it at first! Just thinking he was having a heat stroke or something. And then, there’s the sudden, literal hair-raising realizing it’s possible for this….to feel this way about someone again and… I mean, I'm just assuming-”

“Spi-”

“Yes, I-I am aware I’m rambling and I’m sure this is super weird for you and I should probably go, but just please, you gotta give him another-”

“Peter.” She stepped forward so that she didn't have to say his name loudly. He had forgotten how pleasant it was to hear her say his name. How grounding it was, pulling him from the nonsensical rambling daze he was in. 

Wait. Why did she say his name?

"I-I'm not-"

"You don't think I'd recognize your voice?" She said with a chuckle, "I've known since you asked me about the Yiddish curse I threw on that douchebag." 

"And you didn't say anything?!" Peter asked, aghast. He couldn't tell if he should be grateful or insulted. 

"Well, I figured revealing your identity was something you try to avoid," She stepped away from the door, towards him, "....and I wanted to see what you had to say." 

 "Oh, well…" Peter reached up to pull off his mask, finally revealing his face, "uh…hey." 

He cursed himself. Hey? That was the best he could do? He had traveled through different universes, had essentially one giant group therapy session with other variants of himself, and the best he could come up with was hey? Peter couldn't-

Shit, she was getting closer to him. 

Though it had only been two days since he last saw her, Peter forgot how bright her eyes were. How captivating they were. Every time he looked into them, it felt like he discovered they held a new shade of- 

The searing pain scorched along his cheek broke him out of his thoughts. His head was now turned away from her, his eyesight now on the matching peach patio set. 

Peter turned towards her, bringing a hand up to his burning, now sore, cheek. Her raised hand confirmed it. 

"You slapped me." He said meekly. 

"Yeah, been wanting to for a week now," She said casually, crossing her arms. Was that a smirk? Was she smirking that she had slapped him? 

Peter couldn't lie, it was a pretty good slap. And she took full advantage of him, he was bending his knees to be at eye level, allowing her to reach up without over extending her arm. 

"I….I didn't expect that," Peter paused, "But I do deserve that."  

"Ya think? First of all, you leave me hanging after pulling the biggest switch ever. Then you fucking disappear for a week?! Please tell me you've called or seen May, she's been worried sick and-" 

"Of course I did! She's the one who told me you had a date when I asked where you were!" 

"You asked for me?" She asked, as if she didn't believe it. 

"Yes. After being sent back from another universe, you were the first person I wanted to see. I called you but you didn't pick up. And I…I didn't… I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me so I called May to let her know I was okay and ask where you were!" Peter explained. 

She blinked, "We are…we'll talk about the universe thing later. So did you….did you follow me? Even after knowing I was on a date? How did you know where to find me?" She asked. Peter realized in hindsight while the gesture could come across as romantic, it could also come across as stalkerish. 

"Well….May said you were getting coffee and I remembered the place you suggested on our first date. But you weren't there so I went to the coffee shop we went to and I realize this makes me sound like a stalker and I didn't really have a plan as to what I would do but what I just said as Spider-Man, I meant it you just have to replace 'he' with I and-"

"Peter," She tried to interject but it was too late. He was off on a tangent. 

"I really do like you and I know I have stuff I need to work on and I should totally see a therapist-" 

"You have to if you want to keep seeing me." Her words stopped Peter in his tracks. 

"Wha-huh?" 

"I like you. I want to keep seeing you.”

“You want to keep seeing me?” Peter asked. Surprised was an understatement. As much as he wanted a second chance, part of him still wasn’t expecting to get one. After all, two second chances within the same day was nearly impossible. 

“Did you….were you not listening to when I was telling Spider-Man how tonight’s date proved I still had feelings for you?”

"Did you not hear the part when as Spider-Man, I was telling you how I don't know why you'd want me when you're everything I'm not? Also you slapped me!" Peter defended

"You deserved that slap, you said so yourself," her voice softened, "Also, I like that you're different from me…it's one of my favorite things about you." 

Peter wasn't sure how to respond. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he went to see her tonight. 

She must have sensed this, "Yes, that includes when you're the human embodiment of a rain cloud. Which isn't a bad thing. You need rain to help flowers grow, after all." 

The scent of lavender flooded his nostrils, alerting him to how close she was. He forgot how comforting her smile was. It was grounding, like the first ray of sun after a torrential downpour. 

"And yes, I will support you but I'm not going to be your therapist." Peter nodded his head. It was fair. Completely fair. More than fair. 

"I'm more than happy to help you find one and figure out a way to talk about your trauma without revealing your identity," She paused, "You think you could just go as Spider-Man?" 

Peter laughed, a warm, safe feeling spreading throughout his body. 

"I'm serious!" She giggled, "They can't break their oath, they gotta keep it confidential!" 

"I missed you," He said without thinking, "And…I am really, really, sorry for how I left things last time." 

She nodded her head. A small smile appeared on her face, though Peter could still see the hesitancy in her eyes. "You have two weeks to find someone. Therapist, psychiatrist, both. If you haven't by then, I'm out." 

It was fair. Completely fair. It was also the biggest second chance Peter had received. 

"I understand and I…I don't want to let you down again," He assured her. 

She moved her hands up to the neckline of his suit, fidgeting with it. 

She looked into his eyes, smiling, "I look forward to you proving that." 

Peter nodded his head, slowly placing his hands on her hips. 

"Can I….Can I uh…" 

"I'm not finishing your sentence for you. You're gonna have to use your words Tiger," She smiled, throwing her arms around his neck. 

If she wasn't so stinking cute, Peter would have remarked with some witty comeback. 

"Can I…kiss you?" He mumbled the last part, looking at the ground. He knew his face was bright red, he could feel the heat practically radiating off of himself. And it definitely wasn't a heatstroke. 

"I thought you never asked!" She giggled, like it was nothing. 

"Anyone ever tell you that you can be really infuriating sometimes?" Peter remarked, looking back up at her. 

"Last time I checked, small and infuriating was exactly your type," She stood on her toes, bringing herself closer to his face. 

"So what's your type? Tall, grumpy, and a vigilante?" He felt relaxed in her arms. The banter was fun now. It felt natural, like they were always meant to do this. 

Perhaps they were. 

His sunshine laughed, nodding her head, "I haven't dated any other masked vigilantes before, but it does make sense with-"

"Dated? Are we-are you implying we're dating?" Despite the grin, his heart soared at her implication. 

She bit her tongue, "I am…I am hoping that is what we can do once you hold up your end of the deal. I didn't mean to say it, you're just….you're not the only one who gets nervous, I'm just much better at hiding it compared to you." 

"Oh, so your type is infuriating too?" 

"Are you gonna kiss me or do I have to do it-" She never got to finish her sentence, due to Peter crashing his lips on hers. 

It felt right. For the first time in ten years, things felt right for Peter Parker. 

—---------------------------- 

One year later…… 

"Peter, I swear to God if you come any closer," Peter couldn't help but grin at her using her 'teacher' voice on him. 

"You're gonna send me to the time out corner, Sunshine?" He inched closer to the counter. 

"It is the calm down corner, thank you very much. Also how do you expect me to make rugelach when you keep stealing spoonful's of the filling?" 

Peter shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his head on top of her's. She was the perfect size.

Perfect for him. And he (as he had come to accept) was perfect for her. 

"Peter," She warned as she intently watched him move his hand to her's. 

"What?" He brought her wrist up to his lips, "just wanted something sweet." 

She sighed, biting her bottom lip. Peter knew that look. He loved that look, as it told him that he had succeeded in making her flustered. 

"That was pretty smooth, you gotta admit," He teased.  

"If I do, will you let me focus on baking?" Her voice may have been stern, but the smile on her face told Peter otherwise. 

"Fine," He kissed her cheek before walking away, "I'll just admire my wonderful, beautiful, talented girlfriend from afar." 

"Your life is so hard. I don't know how you do it.  " She deadpanned. 

"What are you two lovebirds up to?" May's voice filled the room. 

"I'm just making rugelach for FEAST tomorrow, Peter is bemoaning how hard it is to let me focus," Sunshine called out. 

"Can I not appreciate my girlfriend? I'm feeling really attacked right now, Sunshine," He remarked, feigning offense. 

She looked over her shoulder to send him a smile. It was his favorite smile of her's-  the one where her whole face lit up and the corner of her eyes crinkled. She always had that smile when he referred to her by that specific nickname. 

"Peter, can you help me with something in the living room?" May asked, motioning for Peter to follow her. The quick wink she gave him alerted Peter to trail behind her quickly. 

"Did you find it?" Peter whispered once they were out of earshot. 

May nodded her head, "I had to look through several boxes but I finally found it!" 

She reached into her pocket to pull out the ring. 

Several years ago, May had told Peter that she wanted to give it to him-so he could use it when the time came, just like Ben had many, many years ago. 

Peter had told her at the time that she could keep it. That he didn't plan on needing an engagement ring. 

Funny how things change. 

May handed him the ring. "You're gonna have to get it resized," She explained. 

He nodded his head, focusing on the ring he was holding. 

"Peter, that means you're going to need her ring size," She added. 

"I know how rings work May!" He whispered. 

"Do you know her ring size?" 

Peter stared at his Aunt blankly. 

"I'll ask her. If you ask, it's going to be really obvious. I'll tell her I'm getting rid of some jewelry." Peter was thankful he had Many. Despite making his intentions very clear (while intoxicated and sober), he wanted this to be somewhat of a surprise. 

"Peter, I'll let you have some more filling if you help me roll out the pastry dough. Deal?" A voice called from the kitchen. 

He quickly put the ring in his pocket, running back into the kitchen in an attempt to play it cool. 

"Yeah, sounds like a great deal!" He said, moving back to the counter. 

"What did May need your help with?" She asked. 

Peter shrugged, "oh she just needed me to move the couch. Something of her's rolled underneath there."

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised. Whatever caused her not to question him, Peter was thankful for it. 

His arms quickly found themselves wrapped around her waist again. 

"I love you Sunshine," He murmured into her hair. 

She paused, her hands stilling. She titled her back back so she could look into his eyes.

"I love you too Peter. Now are you gonna just stand and stare or help me roll out this dough?" 

Peter laughed, "Dough rolling assistant reporting for duty!" 

She shook her head, though that soft smile still remained. 

His own little ray of sun.

-----------------------------------------

8K words later and here we are! Thank you for all the kind words and comments!!! I do want to write a little more for these two and hopefully can do so after my vacation! I hope you enjoyed this journey. Don't be afraid to share your favorite bits!

@rae-gar-targaryen @blooming-violets @liz-allyn @fantasticcopeaglepasta @harrysbabygirl @impossible-ozzie @boarmaskedbastard @everything163 @jrjlc

@papaya-047 @realspideyspice @odilevonbrekker @decadentpaperduck @letmeplaytheliontoo

@abibliophobiaa @mrshipsmcgee @gratefulstranger

@shaded-echoes-recs

[silverjetsystm]

🧨   our muses to make or test out noisemakers/graggers + hamantaschen filling argument (she's team poppy seed)

Purim Starters/Drabble Prompts | Accepting

Another Purim. Lockley doesn't visit this synagogue often but when he gets an invite, he's not one to turn it down. Always here to get fershnickered. Catch up with friends of friends like it was yesterday. Dressed as Indiana Jones with a long streamer stick hanging off his shoulder, he's combination schmoozer-volunteer greeter. Saying hello to everyone. Handshakes, hugs if they were offering, smiles. Names exchanged.

He takes a moment at the noisemaker table. One wooden grogger is selected from the pile. Sticking to the classics. He likes how it feels in his hand and anything that annoys Grant is always a plus. Indeed, Grant and Spector are not paying attention to the festivities at all. More for him.

Turning his head at the perfect time, he watches someone navigate getting her big early 20th century hat through the doorway, setting off his biggest belly laugh yet. Ambling towards her, she really doesn't seem to need his help. "Hey we match," he said brightly, raising a shoulder to gesture; her ivory dress, his big hat, the eras of the two apparent characters. She's taller than him in this get-up; didn't seem to be all heel. Where had he seen her before? Ah well. That's for later.

"Think I'm supposed t' ask what flavor of hamantaschen yours favorite. We got plenty to sample if you're on the fence." He winks. "Haven't seen one I've ever turned down. Apricot has to be my choice."

[buried-l0cket]

The more idv brings details about different characters cultures into their skins and event stories and such the less patiently I am waiting for them to give us some Jewish Emma and Leo stuff

[nlghtshade]

♡ march 2022 favorites

eternally grateful to: @drarryficrecs, @lostdrarryfics, @sweet-s0rr0w and their collaborative drarry sex scene rec list, and @thebooktopus and their mutuals march rec lists and everyone out there spreading the drarry love <3

fests to check out: @hd-cluefest , @call-me-daddy-fic-fest (and @hptransfest has started posting !! happy trans day of visibility !!)

this month was a busy one so i didn’t read as much as i would've liked but i still found a bunch of gems to share !! enjoy !! also happy birthday to our fave twins gred and forge !! more weasley love ♡

“i’m sorry” by @upthehillart

*pansmione

Calleth you (2022, Explicit, 17.3k) by @daaromoltor

The room floods with white light. Harry is on his feet so fast that the chair topples and clatters to the floor, his wand in his hand and a spell on his lips. “They’re outside,” a voice speaks from the luminescent mist, magic barely enough to carry the sound; it’s stripped to a featureless monotone, far away like an echo. “I can’t hold them off much longer. I need help, Potter." Harry stares as the mist dissolves, its dazzling brightness leaving floating spots of colour on his retinas. Eyes watering, wand still clenched in his hand, he says: “Fuck.”

golden trio by @mehroomiyat

Leaning on walls is an indecorous behaviour unless you’re trying to inconspicuously hold your tiny boyfriend’s hand at the sunset by @snarkyships-drarryside

witching hour by @softlystarstruck (2021, General, 738)

this fic was written just because of a little thread of an idea in my mind :) content: love confessions, bed sharing, accidental bond (no emotional/physical compulsion), coworkers, friends to lovers

sucre & thé by @mightier

Two wizards, hanging out, about to squish faces cause they're actually definitely gay, yeah! by @anisaanisa

kiss kiss fall in love: Chapter 3 (2022, Teen, 1.9k) by @softlystarstruck

i had fun with this one! ~1.9k, rated T just for language. eighth year best friends and roommates!! | thank you @lou-isfake for the help 💕 | from this prompt list

Two Months, Twelve Days, Nine Hours (658 words) by @nv-md

It had been two months, twelve days, and nine hours since Draco left—walked right out of their flat without a backwards glance. Not that Harry was counting.

animation by @rosalyfart

Sometime during the 8th year, that was added on for Hogwarts students, Harry and Draco become trapped together in what seems to be a dark storage closet. Of course it’s Harry’s doing, pushing Draco in, (who was minding his own business) in attempts to hide from Filch. The closet is much smaller than Harry thought it would be

Sirius and Harry by @sanjiseo

Stormy Weather by @rockingrobin69

For anon’s prompt, 800 words. TW for panic attack.

ficlet by @hogwartsfirebolt

comic by @filthylittlepureblood

This is very inspired by that third year moment that changed my life and AVPS, I regret nothing And yes Draco signed the drawing bc he canonically signed that drawing, he’s just so…. special.

Harry and Hedwig ❤️ by @ygreczed-hp

Eighth Year by @snarkyships-drarryside

I’m lying when I’m looking away (2022, Explicit, 6.7k) by InnerLilith

Sometimes it takes a Purim party and a flapper dress for Harry to figure out what he likes. (Spoiler: He likes Malfoy.) Or: Come for the hamantaschen, stay for the sex.

Serious (1.4k) by @rockingrobin69

1.4k of Auror partner shenanigans with all the pining. CW for injury (everyone’s all right in the end). 

darling by @justthingsfromsarah

for the @hdcandyheartsfest prompt — darling

drarry by @istehlurvz

some things open at the close (7/7) by @hp-rbiim

draco’s family by @lilbeanz

weasley sweater by @vulcains

is draco wearing one of harry’s many H sweaters, did mrs. weasley knit him his own D sweater. idk for cayce who is hungover

unicorn tapestry by @mojgon

♡ january ♡ february

also this isn't drarry or hp related but i watched Turning Red this month and that movie SPOKE TO MY SOUL i love it so much. i think that movie was written for me lollll i wish i could download it into my brain. i'm getting ready to rewatch it again this weekend and i'm so effing excited. if you haven't seen it go give it a watch !! and if you've already seen it go watch it again ahahah !! okay bye see you guys next month :)

[procrastinatingfeminist]

I constantly forget that jewish places don't work on saturdays. Like, I know it rationally in any other moment of my life, but as soon as I am on vacation and see a synagogue and/or jewish cemetery that allows visitors, I instantly forget it and turn up there on a saturday - and if you need a better demonstation that most european cultures have a christian bias even when it comes to secular organisation like post office or shops, you need not to look further than the normal opening hours. As a result I still haven't visited one. It is getting ridiculous, y'all. At least I have visited a couple of museums and a mikwe. Most fascinating piece of knowledge i retain from the museum is that marriage rings were owned collectively, not individually by the couple. There would be a few sets in a community and they would be used in the ceremony.

I know that aside from the male and female version of mitzvah there is also a gender neutral one. I know that you aren't supposed to touch the Torah when you read from it, though whenever I see the size of a Torah, I always wonder about the logistics of hauling that big-ass book without touching it. Is it only the pages themselves you aren't supposed to touch or the binding, too? But how do you open it without touching the pages?

I know that jews exist in a lot of very different diasporas and their cultures seem to be very different from each other; that Hamantaschen blog post where there were like ten different variations of them across those. I still have to try out the recipe, whether it is something I could master easily. The story is certainly fascinating.

It's not a lot, but for someone turning selectively deaf and mute whenever people start talking about religion in non-historical context - that's plenty.

'punch a nazi!!' how about we start small and you can name two jews who feel comfortable talking about judaism openly around you

[sleuthomatic]

Headcanon + hat

Subroutine: Recall

Initializing…

>terminate

Unable to terminate subroutine

>not now

Unable to terminate subroutine

Recall code 39D6:8994. Initializing…

Nick takes his hat off. Turning for the coat rack, he stops.

It’s still there. Her coat. Vivid purple-pink that she said was orchid. The corner of her last bus pass sticking out of the pocket. His hat hangs loosely from one hand while the other runs down the fabric. Used to be a noticeable trace of her perfume, but now it’s all but faded.

Nick turns away.

If that neurotrans-whatever procedure, the one he just got back from at CIT, is meant to ease the dull, empty ache in his chest, then it’s not working.

Nothing will, probably.

Or it’s a delayed release sort of thing, like an ibuprofen or something. He doesn’t know. Nobody said anything about a follow-up or another brain scan, anyhow, so he figured it’s a done deal, whatever it was.

Now that he’s jumped through that hoop, maybe Widmark (dickless bastard) won’t feel like he has to keep his head on a swivel around Nick.

Maybe he can get back to work. It’d be a nice change of pace. He’ll die of boredom if this suspension goes on much longer.

Still carrying his hat, Nick shuffles into the living area of the small studio apartment. It’s still quite early, not even ten. He can hear the kids downstairs playing, the lady upstairs washing dishes. He’s not spent much time here lately, always making a beeline from the front door to his bed as if with blinders on.

There’s Jenny’s hair clip, left on the coffee table, the one with the rhinestones.

There’s Jenny’s copy of Little Women, from the morning she was telling him how Alcott’s family had been friends with the transcendentalist writers he’s been revisiting lately.

There’s Jenny’s record she borrowed from the library (how much in fines now?) — a single, Billie Holiday.

There’s Jenny’s picture — both him and her last March, that time they tried and failed to follow her mother’s recipe for hamantaschen; flour from one end of the place to the other.

Jenny is everywhere. This place is more hers than his.

He can’t stay here.

He can’t.

When is the first train back to Chicago?

Nick reaches for the telephone.

BOOM

“What in the — ?”

It takes only a moment for Nick to understand why the floor is shaking. Why a siren is now wailing just outside.

“ — Oh, dear God...”

Without much thought, he jams his hat back on, bolts out the door. He’s thinking of the family downstairs with their kids, getting them to the basement, but they’re all faster than him, running outside, and as if in a daze he follows, just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of the fiery mushroom cloud rising above the trees and —

End subroutine

Nick Valentine, synth detective, found the remains of that apartment about 110 years later. Like the whole block, what wasn’t flattened in the blast had been gutted by scavvers and raiders. He didn’t find much worth carrying back to Diamond City in the way of parts or scrap metal. But he did find a pretty swell hat.

Odd. Not only did it happen to fit him just right, but catching his blurry reflection in a shattered car window, Nick couldn’t help but think it suited him.

[heavenssexiestangel]

Of Hamantaschen & Gifts Chapter 5 (Final Bonus Chapter)

Rating: Teen and Up

Ship: Gabriel/Dean

Word count: 1491

Written for: @anyfandomgoesbingo Custom Card Any Holiday Goes

Square: Reading the Torah

Tags and Warnings: Human AU, Purim, Baking Together, Fluff, A little bit of Angst, Jewish Dean Winchester, Jewish Gabriel, Brief mention of an eating disorder, tell me if I need to add more tags.

Summary: Gabriel and Dean have been together for a while, and this is the real first Purim Dean manages to have in years.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

Banner by @sadbi-hours

Beta by @fictional-affairs

Notes: Everyone, I finished a Multichap for the first time. You have no idea how happy I am.

This chapter was extremely hard to write: I wanted it to be perfect, but, as one of the older women I volunteer for always says, "perfection is not of this world."

This story took all my time and energy. I ended up writing 5 chapters in, like, six days. It never happened to me before. This story just wanted to be told, to be shared. And so, here we go, a few days after Purim took place, with the end to this story. I'll celebrate Purim tomorrow with my group and I couldn't be happier. Thank you, and I'll hopefully see you again with a Pesach fic.

Excerpt:

Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, smiling. He always felt at peace after putting his tallit on his shoulders.

They were in the living room, each one standing in front of their seats. The table was already set and full of food.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, looking over at Dean. His boyfriend was wearing his own tallit, beautifully wrapped in white and grey. The shawl was decorated with images representing the twelve tribes, and it fit Dean well. It had been a gift from Gabriel when they had moved in together. “You look as stunning as ever.”

Dean’s cheeks turned bright pink, and he looked away, embarrassed.

“So do you,” he muttered.

Gabriel’s smile grew wider as he caressed the golden wheat embroidered on his shawl.

Read on Archive of Our Own

If you’d like, donate me a Ko-fi

If you’d like to see snippets of what I’m working on, deleted scenes, make requests, etc, join my Discord Server (for FREE)

[simpingforthehunt]

In The Moment

Pairing: Lonny Flash x Reader

Premise: Lonny faints when his wife gives birth.

Masterlist

Content Warning: Fairly graphic depiction of the birthing process

requested by: anon

word count: 452

A/N: The very end of this fic gives me a weird amount of joy XD By the time this fic gets posted, I will be in the middle of making Hamantaschen so if the fic isn't in the Lonny masterlist, it will be in the evening after dinner. I was voluntold to make the cookies for the members of my synagogue (not that I'm complaining because the recipe I found is elite) so that's going to be a fun two-day process. Second oneshot will still be published on Thursday, unless the cookies take longer than I expect. I'll make a post if I have to publish it on Friday. Hope you enjoy this fic :)

Y/N cried out as a contraction came, causing her to squeeze the life out of her husband's hand as her vision tunnelled. She barely registered when the doctor told her that it was time to start pushing, blinded by the pain. As the doctor continued telling Y/N to breathe through it and push, her focus shifted to that task alone.

Mindy and Roxy told their friend about their experiences with childbirth, and Y/N couldn't understand how Mindy had willingly gone through it six times. It felt like her usual period cramps were amplified, but it spread to her lower back and hips. Every birthing book she read and story she had heard didn't do justice to what it was like in the moment.

Lonny felt sympathy towards his wife as he clutched her hand and watched it happen. Part of him wished he could stand outside of the birthing room and let himself go through the pre-parental panic instead of holding it back for the sake of the woman going through more pain than he could even imagine. Despite all the blood and gore that his current profession brought, he couldn't help the nausea bubbling in his stomach as he witnessed everything.

They had been at the hospital for almost a day, and the delivery wasn't going any quicker. Y/N had pushed fifteen times before the doctor could clearly see the baby's head. Lonny tried to focus more on supporting his wife rather than the newborn covered in amniotic fluid and blood, but he couldn't handle the sight when the doctor stood up cradling the baby.

He lost his grip on Y/N and everything went dark. As Lonny toppled over, a nurse rushed to catch him before his head hit the floor and gently set him on the ground. It wasn't the first time that a husband had fainted in the delivery room, and the workers were used to it by now. Y/N didn't even notice that Lonny had fainted, her focus now on the pain slowly subsiding.

An hour later, Y/N held the newborn baby girl in her arms, crying tears of joy as she looked at her daughter. Lonny sat on the chair next to the bed, recovered from the fainting spell, admiring her. "I told you we'd have a girl."

"What an odd instinct," Y/N laughed. "Welcome to the world, Matilda."

"Tilly would be a cute nickname for her," Lonny thought out loud.

"I love it," Y/N agreed. She carefully passed the baby to her husband, who handled Tilly like an egg.

"By the way, Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"That was the most terrifying experience of my life."

"Tell me about it."

[mutatedangels-a]

Ford feels a tinge of guilt because he's not sure what some of those words mean. Outside, cicadas sing.

Hamantaschen, tikkun olam.

There's this belief that older brothers are supposed to know everything, and if they don't, they at least have to pretend they do. But he's discovering—Noa's opening up this newfound possibility for him—that there are some things that he can learn from others just the same as they'd learn from him. That sometimes, relationships can be symbiotic, too, and not just give and take.

He'll go with his initial plan for now. Makes a note to ask her about those words and what spells are later, once he can wrap his head around it all. Ford doesn't mean to be, but he can be quite narrow-minded. Not prejudiced, but sort of small-worlded, where he's only focused on what's going around him and not much else. It's something Soleil has always hated about him.

That, plus the fact that Noa's bound for death? It's boiling a soup that smells no good, nothing like the one she's got cooling down on the stove.

"Yeah, I'll teach you. My summer plan wad—id—gonna be fixin' up my old truck, one I had when I was in high school," he says. "I think you can be my right hand man." When he's brave enough to look at her (for the past minute or so, his eyes have been elsewhere, tinkering with the tools, picking out some for her, knowing that her own eyes are glossy with tears and he doesn't want to see them for fear he might give way to his own), he places a set of tools in front of her and one by one, describes what each one does.

Finally, the wrench. "In a pinch, you can beat someone's ass wid'it, too." He chuckles. It's the first joke he's made all day, unless you count the very first one he made when they finally got on the phone, with her being dead and all.

"I'll give you another rundown once we're actually out there working. Which'll be second thing tomorrow, after we tend to the farm," he tells her. "Right now, let's eat."

-

At the table, Ford is spooning supper into his mouth, tearing apart bread. "Good soup." It's a dry compliment but one nonetheless. Being warm is hard at the moment, even when the back sliding door's cracked open, letting the swampy summer heat in, along with the mosquitoes; even when the big mint candle to ward those pesky bugs away is lit on the table right between them.

"I wanted to ask," he says, "what you are. An... ish-id?" He's got the name wrong, but he can't remember. Sh-dim. "What is it? Why was it a secret?"

    It feels a bit rude, stealing the clothes of the actual sister, but -- well, people are allowed to be a little bit more rude when they're dying right? There's not a ton of benefits, but certainly you get at least one free pass per person of being selfish. As long as you don't go overboard. She picks out some pajamas that are too long in the arms and legs, feeling awkward, slightly wishing Ford had said she could steal some of his clothes to sleep in. They'd be even more oversized but men's clothes were comfy and it'd be borrowing from a loved one so more comfortable.

She's making a hearty soup and some unleavened bread. Partially because there's no time to let it rise, partly because -- well, that's the type of bread she's made the most. It's her first time making bread for Ford, and for that she almost feels a little guilty; the show of care only happening after he does her the huge favor of letting her live with him. Only when she's dying.

Noa is washing her hands off to clean them when Ford comes into the kitchen, as she apparently hadn't gotten there fast enough.

"Um." Nothing that involved tool boxes, really. Her dad had been so excited to have a girl that he'd ended up raising her in a pretty gender roled way, although he never really forced anything on her he hadn't offered things like that. Besides, she wasn't sure if he knew how, wasn't super clear on how human he was when he wasn't around her.

Still, saying no, even in context, when he had taught her so much feels rude to him. Even if she's avoiding her dad right now.

"He taught me how to fly. And how to make wonky hamantaschen. How to ruin eggs in a way that's totally unsalvageable. About tikkun olam, and how words are spells. What to do if my hair gets really frizzy." Her eyes are clouding a bit, and she's feeling guilty for being away, but she can't handle how sad he looks every time she enters his field of vision when Noa herself isn't even done processing. "A little bit about what family means. A lot about dancing. Little bit about animals."

Deep breath, let out slowly, and Noa comes back to herself. A few blinks and her eyes are dry again. "Nothin' to do with tools, though, so I'm a complete beginner there!" She sends Ford an expectant smile. "Are you going to teach me??"