#hamantaschen moment

[grantaire-foudroye]

poppy seed hamantashen

[m4rs-ex3]

so naturally i was up at 1am the other night watching tdp related youtube videos and i figured i'd watch the 2020 comic con panel since it'd been a while and oh my god some of this shit

(also just me talking about how much i love this cast)

"IT IS I, DARK_MAGE_DAD420" i cannot believe that is real

aaravos: "if i want to do a screen call, i must perform a cosmic blood ritual. with a mortar and pestle. AND FLOATING KNIVES" you are fucking kidding me (edit: i realize that pertains to what he did in s2 but still like "cosmic" "ritual" "knives"? cmon)

jason simpson playing the ukulele. that's all.

jack: *talking about how he had a baby in quarantine* eric: i've been doing a lot of gardening... uh i haven't had a baby, but you never know! i mean if it's possible through social distancing aaron: if anybody can make that happen through social distancing it's aaravos you are F U C K I N G KIDDING ME

racquel: some fun things i did- i uhh died my own hair and burned my scalp and i would like to inform you all it's finally healed and we're good to go, i'm ready to do it again! i'm obsessed with the fact that racquel is quite literally claudia irl

the ttm read is awesome. jack came with the Rayla Voice fucking PREPARED oh my god

i don't think i've ever actually talked about the dnd sketch but it is one of my favorite things in the entire world

rayllum in this sketch is amazing particularly callum he is SO down bad like "my character is a mysterious elf assassin with two beautiful blades to match my two beautiful eyes~~ ✨" like hello that's canon idc if it's a sketch that is canon

"my character cannot help but look at her. he locks eyes with rayla's mage" "....there will be time for roleplaying later" HELLO THATS GOLD

viren in this skit is genuinely one of the funniest things i've ever seen. i cannot emphasize enough this is comedy

necromancer ezran. i think about him daily.

s: "i start swinging my sword at, uhh, idk, rayla's mage" r: "WAIT WHAT" c: "uh wait wait i take it back MY SWORDS GLEAM INTO THE LIGHT AS I LEAP TO THE DEFENCE OF THE BEAUTIFUL MAGE!" s: "hey no takebacks!" sibling ass fight i love them

"LIKE WHAT DO YOU ACTUALLY DO?"

i rolled a 1 😐

i loot their corpses for blood >:D

"do elves have four toes?" "i always assumed that they would have 6 so they could learn how to count to 20" paula my love

someone get sasha some hamantaschen

i don't need arc 3 actually i just need the beta script including as many guns n roses references as possible

racquel: ok call me crazy, call me crazy... jesse: you're crazy, racquel racquel: THANK YOU FINALLY they are literally just them

"I WILL NOT BE POSTING A SINGLE THING ABOUT ICE, FOR I AM JULIA" (okay but.... venous frigoris anyone?)

paula: ugh, no one likes soren jesse: well no one likes rayla racquel: you two should fight 😈

long hard sigh

bonus: jason: literally no one likes viren so let's move on

"how old is bait?" "sasha, how old do you think bait is?" "3."

"is-is a glow toad kinda like a toad?" "................kind of"

i fucking love sasha have i ever mentioned that i fucking love sasha

"i think that he's 56." "either 3 or 56 only, apparently"

the saga announcement is great i love how everyone's is so excited they don't even know all of their characters are about to be destroyed physically and emotionally

the way aaron says it so fucking funny "is there gonna be a season 4?" "uh so i think it's really important to emphasize: yes-"

"i too want to cry" "just cry, just-" "IT'S A PANDEMIC. NO TEARS. THERE'S NO CRYING IN A PANDEMIC." "...where is this rule coming from?"

and finally there were a handful of moments that i could not do justice by transcribing in a post so here is a masterfully edited compilation i made

[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

[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 :)

[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.

[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??"

[queenjanai]

i’m gonna take a moment to appreciate the fact that sarai’s favorite kind of jelly tart is poppy seeds which is literally the traditional filling of hamantaschen

[murdershegoat]

al hanisim (regarding the miracles)

(also on ao3 // ko-fi)

lena had clocked her the moment she walked in.

the only other woman in a suit, her masquerade mask a light blue, complimenting the deep navy she wore. her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, and lena could see her impressive jawline from the back of the room.

that was fifteen minutes ago. 

now, lena stands next to the drinks table, and her eyes follow the woman wherever she goes. in another lifetime, perhaps, lena would have the courage to go and say hello. 

she’s still not sure why she decided to come to the local JCC’s purim party; jess is the only person in national city who knows she’s jewish. maybe it’s because purim has always been her favourite holiday, or maybe it’s because she’s missed all of the bells and whistles of a jewish holiday. who knows. but when she had seen the masquerade theme for the purim party, she knew she had to go; it gave her the perfect anonymity.

oh shit. the cute blonde is making her way over to the drinks table, right where lena’s standing. shit shit shit. 

fuck. now she’s standing right next to lena, pouring herself a diet coke. up close, lena can see the way her suit strains against her biceps, the confident smile on her face, the bright blue eyes that peek out from under the mask. 

lena feels shockingly inadequate standing beside this woman.

‘cool party, huh?’ she says, and lena’s sure she’s not talking to her, because why would she be???

but there’s nobody else standing with them. so she must be talking to lena. impossible.

‘pardon?’ lena says, ignoring the way her voice cracks like a thirteen year old boy’s. 

‘it’s a cool party,’ she repeats. ‘masquerade theme feels more grown up than last year’s theme, and less.... culturally appropriative.’

‘i didn’t come last year,’ lena confesses. ‘i... i don’t have much time for this sort of thing usually.’

‘well i’m glad you decided to come this year,’ the woman says with a confident, flirty smile. ‘it means that i get to talk to a beautiful woman all night.’

‘oh, uh, hah-’ lena can feel herself blushing. thank god for the mask. ‘you think we’re gonna talk for the rest of the evening?’

‘at least, i hope we will.’ she holds out a hand expectantly. ‘i’m kara.’

lena hesitates for just a moment. ‘kieran.’ she shakes kara’s hand.

‘so kieran, what do you do when you’re not at purim parties?’

‘i, uh, i work for the family business.’

‘cool. i mean, super vague and not at all helpful, but still cool.’

a beat. kara sips her drink. lena panics.

‘i’m not good at this,’ she blurts out. ‘small talk. speaking to women. any of it.’

‘i’m not that great at it either,’ kara admits. ‘but... i saw you and i needed to try my hardest. but let me make it easier on you. i’ll talk, and if at any point you decide you want to interject, please feel free.’

kara takes a deep breath. ‘like i said already, my name’s kara. i’m a journalist at catco, i’m a virgo, but i also have no idea what that means. i have an older sister, her name is alex and she refused to come tonight. i don’t have any pets, but i used to have a cat. if i had a dog i know exactly what i would name it but it’s a secret because i can’t have you stealing the best dog name of all time. what else... my favourite food is potstickers and also my adoptive mother’s pecan pie. my favourite romcom of all time is when harry met sally even though i disagree with it’s main thesis regarding the friendship between men and women.’

‘i’ve never seen when harry met sally,’ lena jumps in. she doesn’t know why she chose that specific thing. she has thoughts and comments on almost everything kara’s said so far.

‘wow. okay. i see.’ kara says, a frown on her face. ‘side note: how much are you enjoying this party?’

‘infinitely more since you showed up.’

‘in that case, follow me.’ kara takes lena by the hand and leads her to the food table. she loads up two plates with various snacks and gives one to lena. she takes her by the hand again, and this time they leave the party room and go up the stairs to the second floor. 

‘you’re not luring me to my death, are you?’ lena asks her.

kara laughs. ‘when’s the last time something like that happened to you?’

lena wants to say ‘two days ago’ because it’s true; supergirl had managed to save her before her kidnappers had gotten more than two blocks away. but that sort of stuff only happens to a luthor, not to a nondescript kieran.

‘.... just a hypothetical.’

they end up sitting at the very top of the stairs. kara whips out her phone and pulls up her netflix app and loads when harry met sally.

‘we’re just gonna... watch the movie?’

‘you haven’t seen it, i’m due for a rewatch, and it’s a way i can spend time with you without forcing you to talk or listen to me ramble.’

‘i... i like listening to you ramble,’ lena admits, once again very thankful for her masquerade mask as she blushes underneath it. ‘and i would very much like to keep spending time with you.’ she reaches into her bag and pulls out her airpods, offering one bud to kara.

they sit, thighs pressed against each other, watching the small, barely cracked screen on kara’s phone. slowly, rests her arm on lena’s thigh, and lena presses her body closer to hers. it feels as though they’re slowly melting into one another, finding warmth and comfort and maybe something more. time flies by and lena’s torn between loving the movie and loving the way kara quotes the whole thing, as though she’s singing along to her favourite song.

things are cut woefully short about fifteen minutes before the end of the movie, when her bodyguard louis appears at the bottom of the stairs. 

‘ms. luthor,’ he calls out, and lena feels her heart sink as kara jolts away from her. ‘there’s been an incident at the offices. you’re needed there immediately.’

lena doesn’t even turn to face kara. she stares straight ahead and very softly she whispers,

‘i’m sorry.’

and then she leaves.

///

she’s balls deep in work. lex had ordered a little drone strike against lcorp the night before and she had been up early that morning to hear the megillah being read for the second time in about twelve hours. so now she’s dealing with what feels like a million problems and on top of it all, she can’t stop thinking about kara. she knows her last name is danvers because she had googled it at some point in the drive from her apartment to the office. she has her email address sitting in front of her, and as she works, she works up the courage to send her a message.

‘ms. luthor?’ jess pops her head in the door. ‘you’ve got a visitor.’

‘jess, do i look like i can handle a visitor at the moment?’

‘that’s what i told her, but she’s... too insistent. she also says she knows you.’

‘again, jess, is there anybody in my life that you don’t already know?’

‘that’s what i said but she says she knows you. her eyes are disgustingly blue and she’s blonde--’

‘kara.’

‘so i should send her in?’

‘fuck.’

she barely catches the smirk on jess’s face as she retreats from the room with a loud ‘you can come in now!’

kara shyly steps into the room. she’s no longer got a mask or suit on, but she does don a pair of thick glasses and buttoned shirt tucked into a pair of chinos.  she still looks spectacular. maybe even more so, now that lena can see her face.

‘hey,’ kara says. 

‘hi,’ lena says, shutting her laptop. 

‘i’m sorry to barge in like this, but things ended weirdly last night and i wanted to make sure you were okay because i saw the thing about the drone attack on the news this morning and--’

‘it’s very kind of you to check up on me,’ lena says. 

‘well it’s not completely selfless,’ kara admits. ‘i also just really wanted to see you again. OH! and i brought this with me.’

she holds out a wicker basket. 

‘a bottle of wine and some homemade hamantaschen. half of them are strawberry jam and the other half are nutella. mishloach manot. for you.’

‘i... i can’t remember the last time somebody gave me mishloach manot.’ she stops for moment. ‘i want to apologise for last night. i... i felt like i was lying to you, and it’s left me feeling quite guilty.’

‘not lying,’ kara says. ‘hiding your true self. it fits in with the spirit of purim. but it makes more sense now why you couldn’t really tell me anything specific about yourself.’

‘oh no, that’s just because i forgot how to speak. you... you make me very nervous, kara.’

‘ditto.’

‘for what it’s worth: i’m lena. i’m also a virgo, and that genuinely means nothing to me. i have one sibling, he bombed my building last night and somehow that’s not the worst thing he’s ever done to me. i don’t have any pets, but i’m quite fond of the succulent that lives on my kitchen bench. my favourite foods are sushi, but only from this one tiny place in metropolis, and also macarons from a very specific bakery in paris. in terms of national city, my favorite food is probably the avocado toast at noonan’s. up until last night, my favourite romantic comedy was sleeping with other people but now i think it might be when harry met sally, even though i haven’t seen the whole movie.’

kara smiles broadly, and it makes the room brighter somehow. suddenly her head cocks to the side, not unlike a dog, listening to a sound that lena cannot hear.

‘rats, i’ve got to run... look. i don’t wanna be too forward, but um, my friends and i are having a seudah tonight and you’re more than welcome to come.’

‘i don’t think i’ll be finished work in time,’ lena offers as an excuse, frankly terrified of meeting kara’s friends. ‘but maybe we can hang out again later this evening? finish the last bit of the movie?’

‘it’s a date,’ kara says, and lena blushes, this time without the protection of a mask. it makes kara smile even more.

‘i’ll leave my contact info with your secretary.’

‘goodbye, kara. i’ll see you tonight.’

‘and if you finish work early, you’re more than welcome to come to our seudah.’

and then kara’s gone, and lena can feel her heart still pounding wildly in her chest and for some reason she’s already making plans in her head, to push around some meetings and pick up a couple of bottles of wine to take to kara’s party.

she picks a hamantasch from kara’s basket and takes a bit.

it’s fucking delicious. 

that seals the deal.

‘jess,’ lena says, pressing the intercom.

‘meetings pushed, scheduled blocked off, evening cleared. your suit’s also been dry cleaned if you want to wear it again. you’re welcome.’

and though it’s only in its very beginnings, lena feels eager to see where this thing with kara will lead. it feels important and fun and special. 

damn, she loves purim.

[asweethistory]

Esther x Vashti

Purple Carrot Cardamom Ice cream with Apricot Wine Swirl topped in Gold Leaf 

At sundown on February 25th this year, the Jewish holiday of Purim begins. The two day celebration, which has become known as the “Jewish Halloween,” originated during the 4th or 5th century BC when the Jewish community in the Persian Empire was heroically saved from Haman, an official who sought to eradicate the Jewish population. In annual readings and reenactments of the story (or the “megillah”), Haman is commonly recognized by his three pointed hat, which we also eat in the form of hamantaschen cookies. The hero of the Purim story is usually Esther, King Ahasuerus’s wife, whose secret Jewish identity she revealed at just the right moment to foil Haman’s plot. 

Esther, though, is the second queen. The story opens with Ahasuerus’s first wife, Vashti, refusing to dance (presumably naked) at a banquet for his drunken guests. Fearful that her disobedience will undermine his perception of power and inspire all the women of the kingdom to rise up against their husbands, the king banishes her. A year-long pageant is held to find a suitable replacement, in which all the contestants were likely raped before one was offered the honor of the royal crown. Esther, who had been offered to the king by her guardian and uncle Mordecai, accepts her new position as queen without protest. Instead of outright defiance, she cleverly works to earn the king’s sympathy and favor. Knowing Vashti’s fate, Esther gives herself to her husband in order to lift his mood and in turn is able to convince him that not only he should put an end to the pogrom, but that he should also hang Haman in the gallows that were built for Mordecai. 

Since Esther replaces Vashti (and goes on to save the Jewish people), the two women are often portrayed as opposites in the Purim story: Vashti, a villain, is cast out in disgrace, while Esther, through her patience and humility, is able to rise up as a hero. But while Esther hid her Jewish identity in order to purposefully persuade the King to not follow through on Haman’s order, Vashti boldly disobeyed her husband’s direct commands. Both figures have been praised throughout history by feminist writers and activists. As early as the 19th century, Vashti began to gain more favorable attention, receiving admiration in 1878 from Harriet Beecher Stowe. Her confrontational stance and refusal to bend to a man’s wishes have made her a feminist icon in recent years, and this has often gone hand-in-hand with undermining Esther’s own role as a heroine.

But pitting the two women against each other is fruitless, no matter which one we favor, since the wives of Ahasuerus never were in conflict with one another. Some historians even speculate that their stories could have stemmed from the same woman; Xerxes (often identified with Ahasuerus) only had one recorded wife, Amestris. Whether or not that’s true, both women deserve our respect. While they each stand up to their husband in different ways, they share the same strength of will and disdain for the patriarchal authority. 

[wyslyyzr]

erik is a deeply faithful individual. while he has had touch-and-go prospects with his belief in G-d, he has never actually displaced himself from judaism, practices, history, etc. and, in the end, though he has had moments of doubt and frustration with G-d as an entity--it isn’t particularly difficult to imagine why he might have struggled with this considering the traumas he’s been through--ultimately, he accepts G-d as a guiding figure, and a presence in his life that brings him comfort. 

he has practiced every holiday and days of importance since he was pretty young, only ever forgoing them when he was forced to due to circumstance. even when rifts exist between members of the family, erik will always attend family events like purim, or gather for rosh hashanah. he is overwhelmingly kind to luna, tommy, and billy, though as the boys get older he is prone to gently needling them. 

he usually carries a hamsa on his person, somewhere in his pockets, as he usually isn’t comfortable wearing necklaces or rings. 

he had his bar mitzvah just before the eisenhardts were deported to the camps. it was very quiet and solemn compared to the traditional bar mitzvah, but it is a memory he still cherishes and holds to his heart.

while he isn’t an elaborate or lavish cook, he always brings latkes and  hamantaschen to celebratory events that call for them, that he labors over for a day prior. #madewithlove

he speaks english, german, hebrew, and some yiddish--his father fluently spoke yiddish, and he picked up enough to hold conversations. i would wager erik can speak some polish as well, though he isn’t super fluent in it, and magda was always trying to teach him.

[enkelimagnus]

Chevra Kadisha

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1260 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 1 New World Order

After his date with Leah, Bucky finds himself thinking about what she said about parents losing their children.

TW: pas murder, loss of child

Read on AO3

Part 15 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

There's no word for someone whose kids die. Because it's like the worst thing that could happen.

Leah’s words resound in Bucky’s head as he lays on his back on his living room floor, with a flat pillow and a ratty blanket, looking up at the ceiling, eyes stuck on a thin mark that slashes through the white of the pain right above him.

They’re about Yori, of course, about that little altar to his son that stands behind him in the doorway of his apartment, about the look on his face when he talks about RJ. He loved the red bean mochi. Guilt rises like bile in his throat every time he sees that look on his friend’s face.

Is he really his friend though? Bucky’s just playing a cruel game with the man, after all. Selfishly satiating his own guilt by befriending someone he’s hurt so incredibly badly, without them knowing. He’s a predator playing with his prey, and they don’t even know that his jaws will bite down on their neck one day and snap it in one clean crunch.

He knows it’s not technically his doing, that he’s as responsible for this as a predator’s tooth would be for biting down on a prey’s neck, but he also knows that he pulled the trigger. It’s a bullet from his gun that pierces through the young man’s skull in his nightmare. No one else dreams of that moment, because the Winter Soldier was the only witness.

He can’t count the number of people whose death he’s the only witness of. Like a twisted member of the Chevra Kadisha. Maybe he should do that. Show up one day and become part of a society here in Brooklyn. Would they even want him?

Actually, no. He shouldn’t do that. Being a member of the Chevra Kadisha is about giving without asking anything in return. It’s about a pure act of chesed, of loving-kindness. Signing up to witness people passing as a way to make amends would be contrary to that principle.

There is no absolution for what he’s done. He needs to remember that and stop trying to make his own existence easier.

He’s seen the kind of damage losing a child can do and not only on Yori. He’s seen it from parents losing their kids to disease in the 30s, when medicine was hard to come by and disease ran through the neighborhood every night like the Angel of Death in Egypt.

He’s helped his mother bake food for neighbors who’d lost their kids and sat shiva on too many occasions. She would pull him close and kiss his forehead and whisper how thankful she was that all four of her children lived strong healthy lives.

All for him to rob that from her by falling off of that damn train.

Did the neighbors help his mother and sisters sit shiva with his empty coffin? Did the letter from Europe arrive before Steve was declared dead? Had the beit din waited until there was certainty that Steve was dead as well, or at least missing and unable to testify that he was actually gone before allowing his mother to bury him? Did they consider the message from his superiors enough proof?

He has no idea, and he doesn’t know where he’d find that knowledge, if he wanted to find it.

Grief has a way of clawing gouges into people.

Did losing him change her forever? Did she stop baking his favorite hamantaschen flavors for Purim, the plum ones he could eat dozens of without blinking, because, like Yori’s red bean mochi, they reminded him too much of him? Did she miss him the way Yori misses his son?

A part of him hopes she didn’t. Because that kind of pain seems too big to bear. She’d already lost her husband, and probably some of her family in the Iași pogrom and the waves of massacres in her homeland. And she’d lost her son now too, to the hands of the Nazis who’d already robbed so many and so much from their people.

Yes, a part of him hopes she didn’t love him as much as she showed, so that the blow was softer on her heart.

He’s seen the damage of losing your child on countless faces, in countless minds. Of those, perhaps the most recent was Helmut Zemo’s.

Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that man, or the look in his eyes the very last time he saw him, talking almost face to face with Steve. The eyes of a man gone mad with grief. He recognized that look. He recognized a lot of things from Zemo, not only his grief. He recognized the authority of a commander when the lights went out and the act of meek psychiatrist dropped, when he ordered him to report a mission for him, when he ordered him to fight anyone who tried to come after him.

Bucky’s good at parsing out the commanders out of a crowd of strangers. He has practice. They carry themselves a certain, obvious, way to someone who has learned very early how to figure out which person is the man in charge. They’re always the most dangerous, no matter how sadistic their underlings. Those who wield power, those on top of the food chain, they feel different.

And when the red book came out, Zemo felt different.

No matter how broken the man, the power to order men to live or die never goes away.

He won’t forget that man, and not only because of the horrifying grief he carried but also because he was the one man who succeeded in something no one had managed since Arnim Zola in 1950, when they’d told him Steve was dead. He’d robbed his mind from him.

That, Bucky could never forget. No matter the efficiency with which the Wakandans had scrubbed his psyche free of the trigger words, no matter the horrible way in which Zemo was probably the best handler he’d ever had, because he didn’t make him kill anyone and didn’t take advantage of his position of power to hurt him.

He’ll never forget that man’s face, that man’s eyes, the red book in his hands.

He’ll never forget that he was the first psychiatrist that Bucky ever knew, even if he was pretending, that Zemo might have fucked up his chances at getting therapy even more than Raynor’s methods did.

And it’s not like he was given the chance to forget. Zemo might have had the words, but he didn’t have the chair. The memories of those few minutes they’d been alone in the dark are forever engraved in Bucky’s mind, whether he likes them or not.

Remembering is a blessing, he has to remind himself some days. Remembering means you can also recall Rebecca’s giggles and Leah’s smile at his old-fashioned antics, her laugh when he told her his real age. Remembering means you can recall the scrape of Steve’s beard against your cheek when he hugged you close after Wakanda healed you.

Remembering means you can light candles for the ones you love who have passed, honor their memory because you have it.

Remembering all the people he killed with no witness means they will not be forgotten, that they will live on with him. He won’t forget them. He will do better, for them. He’ll try and mend the gashes he’s made into the world, for them.

They will not have died alone, because now he’s free. And he remembers.