#Layla Tov

[hebrewbyinbal]

“Layla Tov” means Good Night in Hebrew.

Thanks for spending your day learning, Good Morning (Boker Tov) Good Evening (Erev Tov), & now Good Night with me. An entire day of learning Hebrew!

Wishing you all a peaceful well rested night 🥱😴

See you tomorrow for more Hebrew by Inbal!

Layla Tov

[myfandomlikesandstories]

Layla Tov - goodnight

Jonathan levy x Jewish! Israeli! GN! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: you're helping Jonathan put Ava to sleep after a "nightmare". She might have a bit of a plan for the two of you.

Warnings: none, really. Very self indulgent though.

Song featured - לילה טוב, הכבש השישה עשר

Word count: 1032

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

"Daddy."

Jonathan awoke with a gasp. A little figure was looming over, mere inches from his face, looking at him with her big eyes.

"Daddy are you awake?"

He blinked.

"Yes, yes Ava, I'm awake. Are you okay, sweetheart?" He whispered to his daughter, turning on his side to face her.

"Can l sleep here tonight?" She mumbled, looking down at the pink blankie she was holding.

"Of course, just get in here carefully, we don't want to wake-"

"I'm up," you said, groggily, as you moved towards them. "I'm up."

Ava grinned and climbed into the bed, getting nice and snug between the two of you.

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

Jonathan and you were best friends since university. He was in the process of questioning - the Jewish process of distancing from the religious community, becoming secular, and you welcomed him to your different Judaism with open arms.

You met in a psychology course, then again in the Jewish group in your campus. You were an Israeli, secular, queer Jewish person. He was naturally drawn to your worldview. You gave him a home - a bridge between the conservative community he grew up in and the new world he jumped into.

You navigated life together. Helped each other through your struggles. He guided you through American life, which you sometimes found loud and overwhelming. In turn, you showed him a different way to live. Took him to his first party, first concert, taught him it's not a sin to touch himself and held him as he sobbed in your arms, when his father told him not to bother coming home for passover.

Things changed since then, of course. The both of you found balance in your lives, rebuilt your connections with religion, family, community and yourselves. He went on to marry Mira, but it wasn't a problem. You felt like it wasn't the right time anyway, and you couldn't provide each other with what you needed in a relationship to each other. But Mira is gone now. You're both older. Different needs and wants. Jonathan was utterly broken over the divorce and the end of his life as he knew them, and you were there for him every step of the way. Things have changed.

You spent quite a lot of time together, now. The emotional support ice cream and wine turned into long evenings in an embrace. Dropping off your goddaughter, Ava, in school and getting take away dinners progressed into cooking together and staying the night. Of course Jonathan wouldn't let you sleep on that awfully uncomfortable green couch Mira liked. You seemed to sleep in his bed more often than in your own. Not that you were complaining.

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

"So what happened, kiddo?" Jonathan asked in a sleep rasped voice.

"I had a bad dream," Ava replied, burying herself into the mattress.

He layed a hand on her back. "Do you want to tell us about it?"

"No," she mumbled in her little voice, sending you a cheeky smile.

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How can we help you, sweetheart?"

"Ummm," she turned to face her dad. "Could you get me a glass of water, please?"

All puppy eyed, how could he say no?

"Sure thing." He left the bed, and you rose onto your elbow, watching him go. He was wearing only a T shirt and his boxers. Why were you staring at him again?

A tug on your shirt pulled you back from your mind.

"Now that he's gone," a small, mischievous voice said. "Are you gonna be my new parent?"

"What?"

"Are you going to be my new parent?" Ava inquired.

"Excuse me, you little munchkin, aren't l your parent already?"

"Not like thattttt", she drawled. "A parent like mommy is."

"Uhh," you struggled. "What makes you think that?"

"I can see you looking at each other. Kids are not stupid, you know." She preached. "So are you, or not?"

What's taking him so long???

You took a deep breath.

"I don't know, metuka. I don't know. But what l do know, is that I'll be here for you no matter what. I'll always be your godparent, Ava, no matter what happens. And I'm always on your side."

Clearly dissatisfied with your answer, she frowned, scrunching her little nose, which you booped in return.

"I love you, ktana sheli."

"I love you too." She wrapped her arms around you and you around her.

Jonathan walked back in. Thank god.

Ava jumped up, rocking the bed. She took the glass from him and took a sip. "Thank you!" She grinned.

"Not so upset about your nightmare anymore, l see?" He said and set her glass on the bedside table.

"Nope!" She popped the P.

"I'm very glad." He sat on the bed, putting a hand through his graying curls. "Well then, do you want me to tuck you in again?"

"Actually," she said, "could l stay here tonight? Please?"

You chuckled, and he hung a pair of tired eyes at you. "I'm honestly too exhausted to argue. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." You replied, sending him a smile.

"Great."

He got settled, and you tucked Ava under the covers.

"You know what?" Her little voice piped up when she threw the blanket off of herself and Jonathan groaned.

"I'm still a little bit scared."

"Nu be'emet." He chuckled, exhausted.

"How about a lullaby?" You offered softly.

"Yes please!" Ava looked at you, hopeful, and you sighed.

"Short one."

She looked satisfied, and Jon shot you a thankful, smiling glance. Your presence really calmed him down, he noticed. He felt so safe, so wanted. And he wanted you too.

You hummed, and started singing:

"Tov, layl menucha va'chalom, kvar me'uchar u'machar nakum ve'nir'eh,"

Jonathan joined in a deep, soft voice, with his funny American accent: "Eich shemegi'ah hayom besof kol layla,"

"Ooo, tov, choshech nafal al harchov, rak ha'yare'ach mash'eer et oro hatzahov,"

"Tzartzar metzartzer tzirturo sham," Ava attempted the tongue twister, and you tickled her little tummy.

"I see Poli taught you well," you smiled at her. She giggled and grabbed your hand, keeping it on herself.

"Layla Tov." Jonathan concluded the song.

You continued humming and softly singing, seeing Ava calming down and Jonathan's eyes drooping closed too.

Ava took his hand, and in his sleepiness he didn't resist.

Suddenly his warm hand was on top of yours. Sneaky little bastard, that girl is.

"Layla tov, yafim sheli."

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

MASTERLIST

Translations from Hebrew:

Metuka - sweet girl

Ktana sheli - (my) little one

Nu be'emet - oh, come on!

The lullaby, Layla Tov by Yehonatan Gefen:

"Good,

A good night of rest and dreams

It's already late and tomorrow we'll wake and see

How morning arrived at the end of every night

Ooo, good

Darkness fell on the street

Only the moon leaves it's yellow light

A cricket chirps it's chirping away, there

Good night."

Layla tov, yafim sheli - goodnight my beautifuls

@romanarose

[usaigi]

The Miracle of Hanukkah

Lunar sys au character cards | Read on ao3 | Read all chapters on ao3

Written for Hanukkah Bingo hosted by @aimmyarrowshigh and special thanks to @fdelopera to beta reading and answering all my questions

‘So I spoke to our therapist–’

‘Great,’ Marc groans bitterly. 

‘Don’t be rude. I spoke to our therapist about maybe celebrating Hanukkah. Birdy, Jake and Jacobito made a comment about not remembering it at all so I think it would be fun if we did something.’

‘No.’

‘No? What do you mean no? It’s Hanukkah, it’s fun! We could even do presents and–’

‘No.’

‘Marc. We talked about this, you can’t just shoot down my ideas for no reason. You need to talk to me.’

‘Presents are for kids, we’re adults. If we want something, we can just buy it,’ he snaps, sounding more irritated with every word. ‘Presents aren’t even traditional, it is an American thing to copy Christmas. What do presents have to do with a candle staying lit for 8 days?’

‘First of all, that’s the overly simplified version of Hanukkah that we tell goys, it’s more than that. Second of all, it’s not a kid thing, it’s part of our culture, and I don’t think it’s very fair that I hold all our good memories. It’s fun and I think we all deserve a little joy. Plus even if it was just a kid thing we have three kids in our system,’ Steven says defensively. Marc could still be a self-serving dickhead, but Steven is ready to fight for the kids. After all the bullshit they have to deal with, they deserve a fun holiday. They all do.   

‘Fine. You do what you want. You’re planning it though,’ Marc relents after a minute. 

Layla, the wonderful angel she is, is ecstatic over the idea. Apparently, in all their years of marriage, Marc has refused to celebrate any Jewish holiday and insisted he was “content with celebrating” (emphasis on the air quotes) her cultural holidays with her extended family. 

It had never felt right with her, telling Steven that part of intercultural marriage is celebrating both sides, not putting one culture above another. But like all “heavy” things, anytime Layla had pushed, Marc shut down. Eventually, she learned to drop it. 

No better time than the present to start a new tradition, Steven thinks. If all goes well, Steven hopes that the others will agree to do Tu B'shevat and Purim and so on. 

---

“So we just light the candles?” Jake asks out loud despite it clearly being a question for Steven.

‘Yes! And we have to do it before sunset because that's when Shabbat starts. We have to say the Hanukkah blessings and the Shehechiyanu first. I printed it out in roman letters for you, do you want to try to say it with me?’ Jake shakes his head quickly. ‘Why don’t I say it and you can copy me?’ Pressing his lips together and looking down towards his hand, Jake gives an uneasy nod. 

Steven sings, pausing after every couple of words so that Jake can copy, slowly reciting each blessing. 

“That was my first time speaking Hebrew…” Jake mumbles as he brings the extra candle towards the first candle and then the shamash.

Layla looks on, squinting her eyes. “I’m sure Steven doesn’t mind teaching you,” she says softly.

‘Yeah mate, anytime you want.’

“I don’t know, it's his and Marc things–”

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a part of me, it’s an us thing.’ 

“I’ll think about it.”

After singing Haneirot Hallalu and Maoz Tzur, Steven pushes Jake to open his present. A metallic blue gift bag with tissue paper peaking out. With shaky hands, he gently tosses the tissue paper aside to reveal his gift. 

“It looks like Gatarina,” Jake says softly when he pulls out the sweater from the gift bag. It’s a black sweater with a menorah printed out on the center, with two white cats mirroring each other on either side. ‘Meowzel Tov’ is written just above it, along with a pattern of dreidels and hearts and stars and candles. “Thanks, I love it.” 

“Steven put something else in there,” Layla says, giving him a playful wink. 

With his lips pressed together, Jake reaches back into the bag to pull out another tiny sweater–much much smaller than the first. A navy blue sweater with a menorah and the phrase ‘Let’s Get Lit’ on it. “For Gatarina!?” Jake's face breaks out into a smile, eyes lighting up, immediately making eye contact with the fluffy kitty who is far more interested in playing with the discarded paper. 

After successfully bribing her with cat treats and (gently) wrestling her into the sweater( she loves it, Jake insists), Jake, Gatarina, and Layla group up for a family picture, commemorating their first day of Hanukkah. 

---

On the second day of Hanukkah, Birdy wiggles herself to the front as soon as she spots the present wrapped with bird wrapping paper. Birdy and Steven manage to stay co-con and sing the blessings together with minimal difficulties. 

‘Your Hebrew is pretty good,’ Steven comments, a bit surprised. She even knew that they had to wait for Shabbat to end and to recite the havdalah blessings first before lighting the Hanukkah flame.

‘Yeah, papi used to celebrate Shabbat with me at the hospital,’ she says with a small voice. Steven doesn’t pry, he would hate to ruin her smile. 

Unlike Jake, Birdy has no reservations about opening her gift, tearing straight into it. Birdy doesn’t even say anything when she realizes what it is, mostly just a high pitch squeal of excitement and full-body wiggles as she brings it up to her chest to squeeze it tight—her very own Squishmellow. A bird– of course –a seagull to be precise, eating a handful–sorry, beakful of french fries. 

“Aw he’s eating french fries because of Hanukkah. They’re fried in oil. I love him. And look, Steven, his name is also Steve,” Birdy hums.  

“Please don’t call him Steve. Jake and Jacobito are enough of a headache…”

---

Daniela, much like Marc, made it very clear to everyone that this whole thing was stupid and refuses to participate. “Gifts are for kids and a distraction from the true meaning,” she claims. “Eight gifts is excessive, mami only did one gift.” 

Steven squints, distinctly having memories of dad and himself opening presents in his room, under the cover of nightfall. But Steven knows better than to argue with Daniela, historically it has never ended well for him. The fact that she hadn’t thrown their menorah out the window was enough of a win in his book, and Steven learned early on to count even the smallest of wins. 

Daniela fronts that evening, using her time in the body to sulk by the fireplace with Gatarina in her lap and a glass of wine in hand. 

As the evening rain hits the window, the menorah stays lifeless and dim. Much like Daniela’s holiday spirit. 

Layla comes into the living room after some time, festive store-bought donuts and a gift in hand as a peace offering. She places the donuts on the coffee table and lays Daniela’s present next to her. 

“Steven wanted you to have this, he picked it out just for you,” Layla says and Daniela looks away. “Open it? For me?” Layla tries again, pouting her lips and giving her the biggest puppy dog eyes. 

Fine, Daniela rolls her eyes before tearing into the gift: a book. A cookbook, Sephardi: Cooking the History.

“A cookbook? Tell Steven I’m not his fucking mom, I’m not going to make him shit just because he buys me a book.” 

Dani makes gorditas. Sure it’s already almost nine but they’re European and their sleep schedule is already fucked up. The gorditas are similar to the pupusas Wendy would make, slight variations to the dough and how it’s typically fried, but the idea is there. A shell made out of masa harina and a variety of different fillings. Years may have gone by but memories are etched into her hands. Daniela still remembers what the dough is supposed to feel like, and how to flatten the disc by passing it from one hand to the other. She remembers all the Kashrut laws, even though it’s only Steven, Birdy, and Kid who observe them. 

She also remembers sitting at their kitchen table in silence, observing everything. How mami’s hand would get covered in harina, and how the wrinkles in her forehead would set, and all the subtle twitches her mami would make. Dani didn’t help, the risk of upsetting her with anything less than perfection wasn’t worth it. She just rested her head on her arms, careful to not even breathe louder than necessary. She just watched, careful to keep precise notes to carry on the tradition and her legacy.

“Why are you so serious?” Layla asks, looking over the lettuce she was tasked to shred. 

“No reason,” Dani mumbles. “Just thinking.”

“Do you want to listen to some music?” 

Dani nods. 

The gorditas turn out delicious; the crunchy outside with a soft bean and cheese filling: the cool lettuce and sour cream cutting through all the oil for the perfect balance.  

After dinner Dani even lets Layla help with making the buñuelos (by help, Layla gets to dust the buñuelos with sugar).

And as they slip their atole and take a nibble on their buñuelos, Dani can’t help but chuckle at all the sugar Layla has on her face, specks of sweet dust all over her mouth and nose. She reaches over, dusting off the sugar on the tip of her nose and kissing her lips gently. 

Daniela promises to be less grouchy about it next year. 

---

“Kid? Do you want to light the menorah?” Layla asks on the fourth day. 

“Yes please!” 

“Steven’s not co-con is he? He can’t help you with the blessings?”

“No, but I know how to do them,” Kid smiles softly but sincerely. 

‘Hey, Kid. Are we doing presents? Can I open mine too?’ Jacobito sneaks in as soon as Kid finishes singing the Hanukkah songs. 

‘Steven says there’s eight of us and eight days of Hanukkah, so we can each open one present every night.’ 

‘We don’t need to tell Steven everything,’ Jake says slyly. 

‘I don’t want to lie to him!’

‘No, not lie. Just don’t tell.’ 

‘I have an idea, maybe. Why don’t we play dreidel and the winner gets to open the present tonight?’

‘Órale vatito.’

Initially, they were going to play with matchsticks but Ms. Layla quickly came in to confiscate them. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Kid. I don’t trust you and Jacobito with matchsticks and a game.” 

They use gelt instead. 

Layla offers to spin on Jacobito’s behalf, instead of trying to rapidly switch because that never ends well. Kid divides the chocolate coins into two even piles, going over all the rules with Layla and Jacobito. They spin, adding to the pot, taking half, adding more, taking it all. Jacobito screams in his head like Marc does when he watches sports, as if it would impact the dreidel in any way. 

With one coin left, Layla spins the dreidel one more time for Jacobito. 

The end game. 

The final spin to determine if he was still in the game or if Kid wins the pot (and the opportunity to open his gift). 

The dreidel spins, and spins and—

Shin.

“Fuck!!” Jacobito cries forcefully making his way to the front, vaguely hearing Layla say ‘hey!’ in the background. That gives Jacobito an idea. And as an act of protest, Jacobito grabs a handful of gelt coins, roughly half the pot, and stuffs them all into his mouth. 

Exasperated, Layla extends her hand, palm facing up, and with great frustration says, “Spit it out.” Like a guilty dog, Jacobito turns his head from side to side, up and down. But as soon as Layla uses her serious eyes , the eyes she usually reserves for Marc when he’s being an ass, Jacobito lowers his eyes and spits all the coins out, covered in slobber. 

Layla, predictably makes a face of disgust at his spittal, but still gives Jacoboto a small kiss on the forehead. 

‘Jake? If it’s really important to you, you can open your gift. It’s okay with me…’ Kid mumbles.

‘No, you won. It’s not fair…’

Jacobito doesn’t fight when Kid asks for the front, so with his tail between his legs and head hanging heavily, Jacobito leaves to hide from his shame until, “Jacobito? Wanna open my present with me?” Kid asks, his gift bag already in hand. 

Jacobito nods. 

“Coloring books! And more pencils! Ms. Layla, do you want to color with us? Jake you too?” 

Jacobito nods again.

---

‘Of course, you know Hebrew. Is there anything you can’t do?’ Marc groans after watching Mr. Knight perfectly recite the blessings.

“No,” says Mr. Knight in their typical blasé attitude. 

Mr. Knight unwinds the ribbon tied around the box to reveal an elegant blue and silver fountain pen with ‘Mr. Knight’ engraved into the barrel. There’s a substantial heft and a nice balance to it. 

‘Can it be used as a weapon?’ They ask, twirling the pen in their fingers. 

‘Dude.’

‘I’m joking,’ says Mr. Knight, face completely flat. They both know that a pen is a far more deadly weapon than any sword. Rest assured, it could be used as a weapon in case of an emergency, but why waste such a personalized gift for something as trivial as murder?  

---

‘You’re not going to say the blessings?’ Daniela asks suspiciously, surprised to find Marc flopped on the couch instead of celebrating. 

‘Did you?’

‘Fine. Be an ass, I don’t give a shit,’ She sneers. ‘I didn’t want to do this either. But the kids are having fun so…I had fun. I helped asshole-Jake make empanadas this morning. They’re in the fridge, you just need to fry them. Open your dumb gift and have dinner with your wife y no handes chigando.’

‘I’m only doing this for Steven, and for the kids,’ Marc thinks to himself. They do deserve to be happy after all the shit they’ve had to live with. Nevertheless, it feels impossible. The blessings, the candles, and the present keep distorting into fear and pain and yelling. 

Marc’s grown, so why is it still so hard to open a damn present?

‘It used to be fun. As kids. Last time we had a real Hannukah was when we were seven and he was still alive,’ says Marc, telling Daniela what he can’t tell Steven. ‘She was always worse around this time. Seasonal depression, dad would say. I was stuck at home with her all break with nowhere to hide, and dad stayed at work late… I think if she wasn’t under so much pressure from the community she would have canceled all holidays. I remember one year she yelled at dad, going on about how I don’t deserve any gifts. He still gave me some, just made me promise to keep it secret… 

‘All behind closed doors, of course. Every year I was still expected to force a smile and pretend to enjoy our sorry excuse for Hanukkah. My dad would set up the tripod and we’d take a happy family picture and pretend like it wasn’t a lie. That my mom wasn’t sitting down because she was too drunk to stand up, or that my sweater wasn’t supposed to be oversized, that it wasn’t just because I was too depressed to eat.’

‘Your childhood sucked…’

‘Prima, we had the same childhood.’

‘Ha. Quit moping and open your damn present.’

The Chosen One, the box says. ‘Oh cool, it’s like Cards Against Humanity,’ Marc tells Daniela who nods along, mildly interested. He flips the box over to find a note stuck on the back with Steven’s handwriting. 

‘Happy Hanukkah, Marc. I know you’re going to say something rude, about how we don’t have any friends so this gift is pointless, but I was thinking that we can pick a question card once a day, and anyone who fronts that day can add whatever blue card they think is funny. Love you, mate. Happy Hanukkah.’

---

‘Jaaaaake,’ Birdy whistles, crying out for Jacobito in the inner world. ‘If you don’t come out I’m going to open your present for you~’

‘Nooooo–’ Jacobito yells.  

‘Are you done sulking?’

‘I wasn’t sulking,’ he pouts. 

‘Then what do you call hiding out and barricading your door in the inner world?’

‘Enrichment time in my enclosure.’

‘You want to front?’ Jacobito doesn’t answer. ‘I bet we put your gift aside and you can open it next time you front?’

‘Isn’t that against the rules? I thought the whole point was to open the present on Hanukkah or else they’re not even Hanukkah presents.’

‘So you do want to front?’ Birdy crips, swaying back and forth. ‘Steven’s not around, I bet we could get away with fried bananas and ice cream for dinner.’

Damnit, Birdy did know all of Jake’s secrets. 

Focusing, Jake takes the front. Concentrating on grounding, finding his center, all that hippie-therapist bullshit. Wiggle his toes, wiggle his fingers, name all the types of cars, Courvette, Ferrari Enzo, Shelby Cobra… There we go, grounded . Jake couldn’t feel Birdy anymore but he can always catch her up later.

Jake rips through the blue wrapping paper and–

“No fucking way!” Jake says out loud, instantly recognizing the signature box. He tosses the lid to the side, unboxing his new sneakers. Sneakers! Nike Air Force 1 High By You, with white hightops and soles, and the signature swoosh a royal blue. Jewish colors.

Jake had asked (begged) Steven for a vape, arguing that it was on theme for Hanukkah because of the oil or whatever, but Steven had said that sharing a body with Marc Spector already gave them too many douche points. Marc had a fantasy football league and unironically drank American piss beer, for crying out loud. 

Still, Jake never got to be a teenage dirtbag and do all the dumb shit that actual teenagers get to do. It was a stupid request, but Jake wanted it. He wanted to do all the dumb stuff Marc and Steven got to do. Like skip class to take a girl out on a date, or sneak out to go to a party and get drunk. Even now, all Jake can do is play video games and call dudes cringe for sucking ass in Fortnight.  

Layla raised her eyebrows. “This doesn’t mean you get to wear them indoors. You’ve still got to take them off when you come in.” 

Sure, sure. Whatever. The sneakers couldn’t give him the freedom he really wanted, but it was something. Something cool that made him feel like himself. 

---

The sun sets on the Lunar system's first successful Hanukkah. Marc joins Steven to recite the blessings before the two light all the candles. 

With her hands behind her back, Layla comes in to kiss their cheek and whisper, “Happy Hanukkah, habibi.”

“Thank you,” Steven smiles, taking the lid off the gift box. He pulls out the item, Layla taking one corner to help reveal the blue plush fleece blanket to its full glory. A blanket with everyone’s name, and ‘Lunar System’ written across the center. Kid, Mr. Knight, Jake, Jacobito, Birdy, Marc, Daniela, Steven, and Layla. 

His family. 

“Did you pick this?” Steven asks Layla eagerly, in awe of the thought. 

“I ordered it, but Marc suggested it.”

“Thank you, Marc,” Steven says out loud as Layla kisses their cheek. 

‘Don’t worry about it.’

“After Judah the Maccabee defended the Greeks in battle, the Jews returned to the Temple in Jerusalem and found only one day's worth of pure oil. That oil lasted eight days. A miracle. It should have been extinguished, but it didn’t, it burned on, bright, warm… it stayed alive. Kinda like we did,” Steven says softly to Marc, stroking Layla's arm as her head rests in his lap. She’d fallen asleep before Steven could finish reading her the chapter, but he doesn’t mind. 

“The body survived the physical battle against… mom’s abuse–” His voice cracks slightly, the words still taste like tar in his mouth. “And our brain survived the spiritual battle by doing what it needed to do. When it was too hard, it helped us survive. A miracle…”

‘When we were kids, you kept us safe–spiritually. The emotional parts kept us safe physically, but you let us live . Not just survive. You are our light, Steven. Thank you.’ 

Happy Hanukkah!

[laineystein]

Today was wonderful. Layla tov 🥂

[koheletgirl]

im just typing hebrew words in my wordle now. i should go to bed

[borderlineteacher]

Spoke to my doctor.

Spoke to my psychiatrist.

I calmed down.

[blastlight]

when i see u next i am giving u a hug

well!! I!!!!!! am going to return that hug extra hard I can’t wait to see you omg

[television-overload]

Attempting to learn Hebrew when your primary exposure to the language has been NCIS means connecting basically everything you learn to the few phrases you already knew because of fanfiction and the show.

At = you (female) a useful word, but my brain is like AT LO LEHVAD!!!! 😭😭😭

Atah = are you (male) which I know because of the Shabbat prayer from Shiva 😩

Then you have layla tov, boker tov, todah, the list goes on...

I'm starting to get the hang of the alphabet!

[hebrewbyinbal]

I look forward to every morning 🌅

There's something truly magical about the dawn of a new day, isn't there?

It's a fresh start filled with endless opportunities and possibilities waiting to be explored. Let's embrace the excitement of what the opportunity tomorrow brings and make the most of every moment! 💫

For me it’s sharing my passion for Hebrew and connecting with all of you. 🤗

Layla Tov, (Good Night) See you in the Morning.

[soupcrouton]

Thinkin about... the unique experience that comes with having an immigrant parent and being raised with more than one language in the house, even if youre only fluent in one.

Thinkin about how me and my dad say layla tov instead of good night, how he croons "tayim?" when he feeds my cats, how i supply him with english when he forgets the word he's thinking of, how we are affectionate to each other only in hebrew. Its ours and ours only. He teaches me new words in hebrew and i help him finish his sentences in english. Theres a mutual love and understanding that comes with that, i think

Idk ive said before that Love Is Stored In Foreign Languages but ive wanted to elaborate on it for a long time so.

[laineystein]

[koheletgirl]

every time i see ur new url there's a line from a. extra i think? or a discarded draft? of a h*milton song. that plays in my head it's like "heaven forbid someone whispers 'he's part of some scheme' / your enemy whispers so you have to scream" which does actually sound good but kndalfjdkjkfdfskdjkl i cant believe my brain is still like this. also i need to go to sleep.

i know about whispers i see how you look at my sister

i stand by my opinion i think hamilton songs are good im sorry. but i am posting this on april 1st so who knows if i really mean it ?????????

[opheliaintherushes]

Layla Tov Yisrael! Awwwwwwwwwww