#jewish dating online

[lyxthen]

I like it when old people have romance plots in media. Divorced parent gets a new partner and their child loves them. Widow re-marries and finds happiness with their new spouse. Old gays finally able to have their dream wedding and live their lives openly. Elders finding love in a nursing home found-family style. Just. People older than 30 falling in love and having fulfilling relationships is what I mean. Because all I see ever is divorce plots and grief and loneliness because apparently you can only ever be happy and have fun as a teen/young adult. The moment you hit a certain age you stop being elegible for the role rom-com protagonist. It's a little discouraging tbh. I want to see that change.

#What I mean to say is. We need more shows like Grace and Frankie. There I said it. #A while ago I watched a few episodes out of order because my mom really likes it and she was binging it #And I wasn't really paying that much attention to it #But I thought it was sweet. Like genuinely. These people are having struggles with their relationships yes. #They have children. Grandchildren. They have struggles. #But it's still a rom-com. It's all lighthearted and focused of the unlikely friendship of these women #After having their lives shaken by the revelation that their life partners are actually gay #And also there's Jewish representation. Idk if it's good. But listen. #I'm just happy old people got their well-deserved silly plot with silly overly convoluted love triangles and online dating #AND ITS ALL SO UPBEAT!! #Anyway #queer #Also queerplatonic relationships pog #Media #romance #Tehanu is a good book also. If you even care #It's not a comedy #But it's still very sweet. Everyone here is really sad and traumatized but they love each other so much. They had enough adventures #It's time to settle down. Adopt a child. Have a low-stakes plot. Falling in love. Found family.

[mrsmarymorstan]

Festive Special where the Batgirls undergo a training mission to set Gävlebocken on fire.

Oracle!Babs is operating everything from Behind The Scenes with the Birds of Prey on standby to airlift them out should things go wrong.

There's a panel imitating the "Girl in front of burning house" meme but with Cass.

Steph tries to persuade Tim to join in the fun under the premise of "Be Gay, Do Crime" but he is too much of a Goody-Two-Shoes and refuses to help, only to later find out that Bernard is Team Burn The Goat.

Bruce easily works out that it was the Batgirls who set the goat ablaze but can't actually PROVE it so has to keep quiet.

Jason is upset that they didn't invite him because gosh-darn-it he is ALWAYS down for some Arson!!!

#Batgirls #DC Comics #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #BatFam #I'd say that Kate joins in just for the full BatFam Girl Power effect #but I know she's jewish and I'm not sure how Non-denominal the pagen-esc ritualistic yet illegal burning of a Christmas Goat is? #I think she would probably smirk as she read about it online though? #But equally it is ILLEGAL and she IS dating a cop so ?????

[chicago-geniza]

Writing a notes app essay on The Lesbian Mentorship plot and it will be like the dziennik bez samogłosek of writing on [Unavailable] Older Women [in Positions of Authority or Aspirational Social/Socioeconomic Status] & The Literary/Cinematic Trope of Pedagogical Eros in Sex-Segregated Boarding Boarding Schools in that I will not use the word "mother" once and will only mention Freudian psychoanalysis & Weimar sexology in a brief footnote about Christa Winsloe's background

#I will however use the word mommy but only about the Mommy's Baby screencap & its internet afterlife and the Autostraddle Mommi thing #I am burdened with so much knowledge of Extremely Online Lesbian Culture from like 2005 to the present #I can never get it out of my head I was on the CURVE MAGAZINE FORUMS #Elka and KC read one of my letters on The Planet podcast. I was 12 years old lmfao #Realized I was gay and just got very autistic about. Lesbians (TM) #'While you were actually dating & kissing girls I was studying the blade (reading L Word forums & autowin livejournal) #(Corresponding with an 18-yr-old Conservative Jewish dyke in Pittsburgh about Stone Butch Blues) #He/they is now a happily out boydyke mazel Jamie

[notniceenoughjewishgirl]

#86

How we met: OKCupid

# of dates we’d go on: 1

Why we stopped dating: too nerdy

Props to this guy who actually moved us off the app and asked me on an actual date. But I was skeptical when I saw him in his plaid button-down tucked into his jeans. And I was really not amused when he started the conversation with “So what’s your deal? What’s your story?” I considered responding with, “Well, in mid-1985 my parents had sex…” but instead went with an irritated, “I am not going to answer that question.” Somehow we corrected course. We spent less than an hour making a loop through the Golden Gate Park Panhandle. He seemed like a fairly nice and interesting person, just not really on my same wavelength. He of course opened and closed the date with a hug. I need to learn how to decline that opening hug without sounding hostile. I’m considering running towards my date with my arms outstretched and then hugging the person behind him, but I’m open to suggestions!

#dating #jewish dating #online dating #okcupid

[top-dating-sites-worldwide]

Exploring the Top Jewish Dating Sites

For Jewish singles seeking partners who share their faith, culture, and traditions, the right dating site can make all the difference. While general dating platforms offer broad pools of potential matches, Jewish dating sites provide a more tailored experience. In this post, we'll explore the top Jewish dating sites that cater specifically to this community, helping you find your perfect match within your faith.

JDate - The Pioneer in Jewish Dating

JDate stands as a cornerstone in the world of Jewish dating. It's not only one of the first but also one of the most popular sites for Jewish singles.

Community-Centric: Focused on building a strong Jewish community, JDate goes beyond mere dating.

Inclusive: Open to all levels of observance and denominations, JDate embraces the diversity within Judaism.

JSwipe - The Jewish Twist on Swiping

JSwipe, often referred to as the "Jewish Tinder," brings a modern, swipe-based approach to the Jewish dating scene.

Younger Demographic: Catering primarily to millennials, JSwipe has a more casual and contemporary feel.

Ease of Use: Its user-friendly interface makes meeting and connecting with fellow Jewish singles simple and fun.

SawYouAtSinai - Traditional Matchmaking Meets Modern Technology

SawYouAtSinai combines Jewish matchmaking traditions with modern-day technology.

Personalized Matchmaking: Users have access to matchmakers who help them find suitable matches.

Serious Relationships: This site is geared towards singles looking for committed, long-term relationships.

JewishCafe.com - A Cozy Space for Romance

JewishCafe.com offers a warm, inviting atmosphere for Jewish singles.

Trial Period: It provides a free trial, allowing users to experience the service before committing.

Community Feel: The site promotes a sense of community, mirroring a cozy café environment.

EliteSingles Jewish Dating - For Professionals Seeking Commitment

EliteSingles offers a Jewish dating section, catering to career-oriented professionals.

Compatibility Test: Their in-depth personality test helps in finding compatible matches.

Professional Singles: The site attracts individuals who are serious about finding a partner with similar life goals and career aspirations.

Whether you prefer the tried-and-true approach of JDate, the modern swiping fun of JSwipe, the personalized matchmaking of SawYouAtSinai, the cozy atmosphere of JewishCafe.com, or the professional focus of EliteSingles Jewish Dating, there is a Jewish dating site out there for you. Each platform offers unique features and communities, making it easier for Jewish singles to find love and connection within their faith.

#jewish dating #online dating #dating #relationship

[theoreticallysensible]

I have friends and family very concerned about the “from the river to the sea” chant, but most commentators I respect online support it, so I did a bit of research and this is the best article I found explaining it. Surprise surprise, the hegemonic narrative my friends and family had absorbed was wrong.

“From the river to the sea” is a recognition that apartheid began in 1948 when Israel was created through the ethnic cleansing of Palestine. It is no call for genocide. To call for the destruction of Israel as an apartheid state is not a call for the destruction of Jews living there, any more than the call for the destruction of apartheid in South Africa was a call for the destruction of white people.

…

Historically the slogan “from the river to the sea” dates at least as far back as the 1960s when the Palestinian resistance was led by the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO), a secular coalition of Palestinian nationalist and leftist parties.

In the late 1960s, the PLO put forward a visionary idea of Arab-Jewish coexistence in one democracy, arguing for Israel and the Occupied Territories to become “one secular, democratic state of Palestine” based on one person, one vote, where Arabs, Jews, Muslims and Christians would enjoy full equality.

#palestine #israel #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #from the river to the sea #colonialism #settler colonialism

[psychologeek]

Jewish people online: someone I know died :(

Goyim online: yayy another dead jew i mean, Zionist! Go back to where you came from!

Yemen (1 jew, imprisoned by Houthies): ...

Poland (ethnically cleansed 99% of the Jewish population in 8 years):

(Not new. 2019, for example:)

Tzur Erlich:

Two memorial days in very close date,

In favour of some calculation

What is the cost of having a state

And what was the cost when we didn't

שני ימי זיכרון סמוכים כל שנה,

לטובת החישוב הכללי

כמה עולה לנו עם מדינה

וכמה עולה לנו בלי.

(צור ארליך)

(feel free to rb. It's the only way to get more ppl to see it)

#palestine #israel #ethnic cleansing #Poland #tzur Erlich #poetry #antisemitism #jewish history #history lesson #history repeats itself #goyim gonna goy #jumblr #jews #yemen #houthis

[starplatinumnun]

cecil palmer is the coolest guy ever. he has an evil clone. he's immortal. he's jewish. he's a father. he was a boy scout. he's eldritch in nature. he's a local celebrity. he can play loud-ass music on command by shouting, "and now for the weather!" he runs a radio show. he had a relationship/tryst with the inventor of the radio. he doesn't believe in the existence of mountains. he asks his audience for dating advice. his middle name is gershwin. he writes hannibal fan-poetry online. he's an unreliable narrator. he has an astigmatism. he has an extreme phobia of mirrors. he's a fashion disaster. he has lyme disease. he writes gay slash fanfic about the movie jaws. he's a tumblr user. he doesn't remember his own birthday. he doesn't know how to swim. he's happily married to carlos the scientist. he struggles with impulse control. he was even an aquarius

#cecil gershwin palmer #cecil palmer #wtnv #welcome to night vale #based off of that jon sims post #fun facts some ppl may not know!

[sansaorgana]

— NEW MEMORIES

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — You're excited to celebrate holidays for the first time in a long time and you prepare the school for Christmas and Hanukkah but your husband's attitude differs, which leads to an argument. You accidentally reveal too soon that you're expecting, which ruins a surprise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As usual, Reader’s mutation is NOT specified. I checked online Hanukkah's date for 1973 and I hope it showed me right that it started December 19th, which means it would overlap with Christmas. I also tried not to specify if Reader would celebrate only Hanukkah with Erik or Christmas, too, so I hope it's not very exclusive, because I imagine that even if she is not a Christian or Jewish, she would still want to celebrate Hanukkah because of her husband. In this fic, Erik and Reader are both teachers at Xavier's School, probably after Days of Future Past happened but with less shitty ending for Erik 😂 I also wanted to write a part when the baby is born but I decided the time difference between the scenes would be too big so I'll just write another fic 😁

WARNINGS — mentions of parents' death (Reader's backstory is similar to Jean Grey's)

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

NEW MEMORIES

December has never been your favourite time of the year. Most of the time it was a reminder that you weren’t normal, that your life wasn’t usual and that whatever all these people in Christmas commercials had was out of your reach.

But in 1973, for the first time in your life, you were actually excited. And since Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was open again, you had plenty of people to share your excitement with. Lots of students volunteered to help you with decorating the place for the upcoming Christmas and Hanukkah celebrations. That year was one of those when the two of them overlapped.

After all your classes on Friday, you worked on yet another room of the house with the help of a few students. When you finished it was almost ten pm so you told them goodnight and went straight to your bedroom. Erik was already there, reading a history book and making notes.

“What is it about?” you asked him with a smile as you began to take off your clothes. You were so tired that you decided to take a shower in the morning and now just change into pajamas.

“Napoleonic wars,” your husband answered without looking up. “I have a feeling he might have been one of us.”

“Aren’t we, like, a product of this century?” you asked and put a nightgown on. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go to sleep,” you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve only just begun,” he explained. “I need these notes for Monday.”

When you managed to convince Erik to join you at school and teach history, he was unsure about it but he promised to give it a try. Just like you promised you would leave with him to live in peace somewhere else if he wouldn’t like the life at Charles’ school. But one semester later he was already very engaged in his work. Students respected him although you could see that they were also a bit scared of him, which was understandable.

“You’ve just begun?” you laughed a little.

“I was playing chess with Charles earlier,” Erik answered with a nod and hummed after underlining a line in the book.

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you asked as you slightly squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Did you lose?”

“I’m not tense,” he tried to shake you off.

“Talk to me, Erik. It’s not gonna work if you refuse to talk to me,” you reminded him sternly and he sighed before putting the pencil down and closing the book. “We need to be open about what is bothering us, you promised me we’d make it work this time,” you added.

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Erik turned his head around to look at your face. You took a step back and furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean, Erik?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying anything and a million of possible scenarios started to come up to your mind.

“You don’t like it here?” You inquired. “You want us to move out?”

“No, it’s not about that… But…” Erik swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in. “I don’t like what you’re currently doing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to take your happiness out of it.”

“What am I currently doing?” you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Christmas and Hanukkah preparations,” he explained and you blinked a few times as your brain needed to process that information.

“Wait, what?!” you raised your voice a little. You didn’t want to scold him for expressing his feelings but you just couldn’t understand his reaction. “We’re going to celebrate for the first time in such a long time, and what’s more important, we’re not gonna be alone in this. We have our friends and students here. For the first time December is a positive time of the year to me… to us,” you tried to explain your point of view nervously. Erik was only looking at you and blinking slowly, patiently waiting for you to finish. “But I don’t do it for myself. I mostly am doing it for you, Erik. I wanted you to be happy, too. I wanted you to enjoy something that had been taken away from you a long time ago.”

“It reminds me of Hanukkahs with my parents,” he finally spoke up and you pursed your lips for a moment before opening your mouth again.

“So you don’t want to ever celebrate again?” you asked to be sure.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Why can’t you let yourself be happy, why are you torturing yourself further? I don’t get it, I’m sorry,” you tried not to be irritated but you felt utterly disappointed. You sat on the edge of your bed and hid your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a killjoy.”

“Too late,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

“I know that most of the students will be celebrating. I think I’ll just leave for a week somewhere. I have already discussed it with Charles and he said there are a few things I can do for him at that time,” Erik’s voice sounded casual like he was discussing business for you.

“You want to leave us during Christmas time?” you moved the hands off of your face and looked up at him angrily.

“(Y/N), please, I don’t want to fight about it…” Erik sighed. “Why can’t you just understand that I don’t want to…” he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to create new memories like this because it would remove the ones I already have… with my mother.”

“And you think she wouldn’t want you to celebrate holidays with your new family? You don’t think she’d want you to be happy?” you stood up and looked down at him. You felt like a bitch but his explanation made you even angrier.

“I don’t know what she’d want because she’s dead!” He stood up and raised his voice.

“So, I won’t be able to celebrate ever?! Because you don’t want to create new memories?” you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m not forbidding you to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate without you, don’t you understand?!” you yelled and rolled your eyes. “And when our child is born, you won’t celebrate Hanukkah with them either?” you asked and then you closed your mouth quickly. Your anger made you reveal a few things too early.

“What child?” you could see Erik’s face becoming pale within a second. “(Y/N)?”

“It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise… But since you won’t even be here, I guess I can tell you now,” you shrugged your arms. “I’m pregnant,” you announced and turned around to avoid looking at his face. You were scared of his reaction.

You didn’t know how long it took him to finally do something. Was it a very long minute or was it ten minutes of a heavy silence between you two…?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. Apologizing wasn’t his strong trait. You sensed him standing behind you and putting his hand on your shoulder shyly. You didn’t push him away but you didn’t lean back towards him as usual either. “For how long do you know?”

“Two weeks. It’s the second month,” you answered, your eyes focused on the wall in front of you as you tried to fight the tears back. “Are you even happy?” you dared to ask and your lower lip trembled because asking it out loud made your heart break.

You were trying to give him a normal life, to give him family and happiness, joy around Christmas time and all that. But he seemed to prefer to dwell on his past. You didn’t expect him to forget about his mother or about the pain, of course not. Your past wasn’t exactly pleasant either. But you wanted to be happy despite that, you wanted to have a family, you wanted a new start in life, another chance.

“Of course I am,” Erik answered and gently turned your body around so you would face him. However, you tried to avoid his eyes. “But I’m terrified,” he confessed.

“And you think I am not?” you looked up eventually as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m a monster, Erik. You think I’m not scared of hurting them by accident?” you asked.

When you were about twelve years old, you caused your parents’ death after having an argument with them. Your powers were out of control and you were locked in a mental institution for underage girls by people who didn’t understand that you weren’t crazy nor really dangerous. That was where you met the person who made you realize who you were and who was the only person there who wouldn’t treat you like a monster; although that was the word you could easily call him with. His name was Sebastian Shaw – but he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith. He was experimenting on you for a few years and although it had been a traumatic experience, you learnt how to control your mutation thanks to him. That was also how you met Erik – he found you not so long after you turned eighteen years old and left the institution. You started to work as a waitress and he was hunting for the man who had used your pain and suffering to perform experiments on you to deepen his knowledge about the various mutations. You decided to join Erik because your life didn’t seem to have any purpose anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” he sighed and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. With one of his hands he held the back of your head and caressed your hair. “You were just a child and now you’re older, you can control your powers. You’re extraordinary,” he whispered the words of comfort and kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared about you hurting our baby, I would never. I trust you with my life,” he assured you and it was comforting to hear that.

“Creating new memories doesn’t wipe out the old ones,” you cried out and pressed your face deeper into his chest. “Believe me, I wish it worked this way. I wish I could forget. I begged Charles to make me forget but he refused to do it to me,” you confessed and Erik raised your chin to make you look at him again. He hadn’t known about that before.

“You haven’t told me that,” his face was full of pain and worry.

“It was when you were in jail. I begged Charles to remove all the pain, the memory of my parents, the memory of Shaw… Even you. I begged him to even remove you from my head. But he told me I wouldn’t be myself any longer. He was right and I hate that. I hate that what I am is made of pain and suffering,” you sniffled. “That’s why I want to make good memories so badly, do you understand? I want to celebrate with you like we never have before. I want to laugh and feel safe. Like I belong somewhere, surrounded with friends and students, with my husband by my side and my baby growing inside of me. Do you understand my point of view now, Erik?” you bit on your trembling lip.

“Yes, my liebling, I do,” he nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which made you giggle through the tears, until eventually he pecked your lips.

“But I don’t want to force you either,” you sighed. Now, when all your emotions were finally out and you calmed yourself down, you decided there was no point in pushing him into something that would make him feel uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to celebrate, it’s alright. We both have our right to deal with whatever that has happened to us in our own ways. I’ll still have fun with all the rest, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“No, you were right. About me choosing to torture myself instead of allowing myself to enjoy my life,” Erik caressed your cheek and you cracked a smile. “And I can’t miss my child’s first Hanukkah either.”

“I want them to have a happy childhood,” you told him. “Like we never had.”

“I know. I do, too,” Erik placed his hand on your belly and caressed it gently, like it was made of glass. “I will protect them from everything, I promise. No human will hurt our baby.”

You smiled at him and cupped his face before leaning in to give him a proper kiss this time.

But you didn’t tell him that what you feared more than humans hurting your child was actually the child turning out to be perfectly normal. You were afraid that a man so prejudiced towards humans as your husband wouldn’t love his child fully if they weren’t a mutant. You couldn’t tell him that, though. You didn’t want to fight with him anymore that night. Instead, you just kissed him. After all, you’d still have a few years before you’d find out if the baby was a mutant or not.

MASTERLIST

#erik lehnsherr x reader #lilysfiction #magneto x reader

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Yesterday, there was a terrorist attack, two people were stabbed in the area where my mom's cousin and his wife live. I found out about it as I was returning from a medical appointment, going through a road where in Nov, a terrorist shot to death a young Israeli man.

Based on what the IDF has found of Hamas' armaments (which surpassed Israeli estimates), based on how things stand now, Hamas would be capable of continuing to fire rockets into Israel for at least 2-3 more years. That's why, even as the fighting continues, there are new defensive measures that will be built along road 232, the same road mentioned in the NYT's article about the Hamas rapes during the Oct 7 massacre.

Speaking of that article, apparently despite the insane amount of evidence in it, and mentioned recently in regards to the subject of the rapes, some are trying to deny that this part of the massacre happened. This is a perfect response (IMO) from feminists.againstantisemitism on IG:

Cyberwell, a watch dog that monitors antisemitism on social media, has reported a sharp rise in antisemitic posts since Oct 7. And not just of the new, anti-Zionist kind. There has been a rise in 1000% in posts accusing Jews of killing Jesus (yes, the Jew crucified by Romans almost 2,000 years ago... funny how you never see people going around saying Italians killed Jesus... almost like the whole thing isn't about who actually killed Jesus, and more about providing yet another excuse for antisemitism, a hatred that pre-dates Jesus), and 1600% in the hashtag saying that Hitler was right, the guy whose antisemitic, genocidal ideology, the attackers, maimers, rapists, kidnappers and murderers of Oct 7 would happily co-sign. All of this, while the world appropriates the Jewish slogan "never again" to use against Jews defending themselves. Make it make sense.

And here's a reminder that what starts online, doesn't stay online. There have been unprecedented levels of antisemitism in many places, including in New Zealand. What got to me the most is the report on antisemitic incidents targeting school kids, and that only 40% of parents report these (sometimes 'coz previous cases have not been treated right, or the school is seen as being ill-equipped to deal with antisemitism). A 2021 survey found that 60% of New Zealanders agreed with antisemitic statements, so it might be argued that this recent outburst has been waiting to happen for a while, just waiting for an excuse to.

Here's another piece that I sadly could only find in Hebrew so far. It reveals some more of the interrogations of Hamas terrorists, this time covering how Hamas terrorizes civilians in Gaza. Here's my loose translation of a testimony's summary, from a Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorist (Muhammed Darwish Amare). It can be found (with the full testimony in the vid and appearing) at the above link: "Someone told me that they took explosives, to place them from his apartment to a spot 2 meters (6.5 feet) away from him. The man came down and told [the terrorist]: 'Oh man, how are you placing the explosives by the door, and then if they explode, my kids and I will be gone.' He responded, 'If you don't like it, then get out of here.' The apartment owner said to him, 'These are my kids, this isn't right,' and the explosives placer replied, 'I will lay them even if you don't like it, and I will even place them between you and your wife.' Then he took out his pistol and shot the apartment owner in the leg."

Another testimony, found at the same link, this one is of a former Hamas member (Zuhady Ali Zahdy Shahi): "I felt that we civilians are human shields. Why should we protect them? We want to be saved, too. That's Hamas' mistake. People left their house [during the fighting], and there was a safe passage, because the army told us to go south, that there will be food and water there. They drew a safe passage for us, and then we ran into [Hamas terrorists], who made us go into one of the neighborhoods. They told us, 'No one is going south, there are bombings, and no one can continue on the street.' We went into the Shifa hospital, and we got stuck inside. [The terrorists] sat among us, with the civilians. They were scared of the soldiers. I even argued with one of them, and told him, 'Your place isn't here, with the civilians, but downstairs [in the terror tunnels].' He told me that the moment the war would be over, he will punish me, he started threatening me." When asked what he thought of the IDF, Shahi said, "Truth is, based on what I've seen, I wish you would stay with us. If they would have stayed where we lived, we wouldn't be starving. The moment the army came into Shifa, we were scared of what would be done with us, but it was the opposite. They brought us food and water, and sat with us. We felt safe."

This is 56 years old Ilan Weiss.

His 53 years old wife Shiri and 18 years old daughter Noa were kidnapped by Hamas, and released in the hostage deal. Ilan himself, who was a member of the emergency team at kibbutz Be'eri, left his house on the morning of the massacre, as first reports came in, and wasn't heard of again. He was considered missing (meaning, it was unknown whether he was kidnapped or killed on Oct 7). Today it was announced that his body was identified, and he had been murdered during the massacre. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff

Summary:

Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.

However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @zablife @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @solomons-finest-rum @hecatemoon87 @babaohhhriley

TH Masterlist

Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner. 

As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.

Our home.

Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night. 

Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.

We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.

I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”

Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”

Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow. 

We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.

Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good? 

Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.

Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there. 

Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”

“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”

I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”

“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”

“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”

“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”

“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.

“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”

“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”

Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”

“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”

“Which is?”

“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’

“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Don’t use my words against me.”

“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”

I hope.

A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”

I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”

The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”

“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”

“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”

Until I black out. 

The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.

For him.

Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”

We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”

He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”

I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”

He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”

“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”

Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.

Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.

Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.

“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”

I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”

“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”

I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”

Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”

“Mhm.”

Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.

Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”

He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”

“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”

“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.

“And? Do you like it?” 

Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again. 

I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”

“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue. 

Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”

I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”

“There are cookbooks.”

“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”

“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”

“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”

“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’

Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint. 

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader

[notniceenoughjewishgirl]

#85

How we met: Hinge

# of dates we’d go on: 1

Why we stopped dating: trash shoes

I got boba and sat in Dolores Park with this guy. His shoes were trash. His mouth hung open and his teeth were funky. He sat on a bench and stretched his arm across the back, where I would sit. For real! Like a 90’s sitcom. A few times he skritched my back softly, which I let him do because I thought it was absolutely hilarious that he thought that might work. I have no idea why #85’s getting into my personal space was amusing while #84’s was infuriating.

#dating #jewish dating #online dating

[top-dating-sites-worldwide]

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For Jewish singles seeking a relationship that resonates with their cultural and religious background, JDate offers a uniquely tailored experience. In the sea of dating websites, JDate shines as a beacon for those who value their Jewish heritage as an integral part of their romantic journey. Whether you're looking for love, friendship, or community, JDate is more than just a dating site - it's a gateway to connecting with your Jewish identity and finding others who truly understand it.

#jewish dating #online dating #jewish singles

[jewish-skitter]

Talking to a former for reasons, and it has me thinking.

In this case, by neo nazi, I mean full on, swastika waving, white power, and potentially committed actual hate crimes IRL, not just a troll who maybe harassed people online. Jewish here including all Jews, including Jews of Color, but feel free to include that additional info in the tags.

#polls

[soloorganaas]

tw: antisemitism, death threats

I never thought I would be sitting down to make a post like this on tumblr dot com and I’m not really sure how to, so bear with me

yesterday I was tagged in a post full of explicitly antisemitic harassment and death threats against me. it was made by someone in the wolfstar fandom in response to this post I wrote back in april indirectly criticising the hatred and vitriol they spew against us. their response was to search through my blog and collect screenshots of my posts dating up to six years back related to israel, antisemitism or jewishness and use that as a justification to state that I should be killed

I’m not going to name the user or link the post because if you’re in the fandom you know who I’m talking about anyway, and if you’re not it doesn’t matter. I don’t want this person themselves getting any more attention because what’s important is what they’ve said and what it means. I’ve included most of their post below which was super long 🙃 and maxed out tumblrs image limit:

nothing about my original post was about israel or jewish identity. they didn’t like what I’d said about their actions in our fandom, so to attack me they specifically chose my jewishness. these posts are all me simply expressing that in discussions about antisemitism or literally just celebrating the connection of jews to israel. they saw those things and said I should be killed because of it

this is the reality of how antisemitism still exists. it’s mostly not ugly cartoons or skinheads, it’s this. it’s the absolutely uncompromising dehumanisation and belief that we’re an evil that deserves to be eradicated disguised under the thin fucking veil of them “disagreeing with the state of israel”

I don’t want any comments or replies along the line of yeah I don’t support israel but. no couching, no qualifying. this isn’t about what you feel about israel. it’s not even about what I feel about israel. it’s about the fact that they saw me existing as jewish online as justification for me being killed

#jumblr #antisemitism #jewish things

[copperbadge]

The fifth book in the Shivadh Romances, short story anthology Dinner At The Palace, is now available for purchase in print and epub! Happy Shivadh Reclamation Day!

Already familiar and just want to buy the book?

Dinner At The Palace: Hardcopy | Epub

Dinner At The Palace is roughly 40K words, and is $3.99 for epub and $8.99 for print; these prices vary by currency for the hardcopy, but I’ve priced them as affordably as possible. Please be aware the book does contain one story with explicit sexual content (Love Like A Freight Train).

Want to learn more? Read on!

Askazer-Shivadlakia is “the little country by the sea” — a coastal micronation perched between France and Italy, with Europe’s only Jewish royal family and a distinctly queer-friendly culture. The irreverent but earnest Shivadh people have recently elected a new king, Gregory III, and the Shivadh romances follow him and his extended family, as well as their new friends and partners, as they manage love, politics, and an ever-expanding social circle.

The first four books are available in hardcopy and epub, and the first three are also available as a single “omnibus” volume; you can learn more about them and find purchase links here. 

Dinner At The Palace

The latest volume in the Shivadh Romances series is an anthology of short stories written and set during the first four books. These stories have previously only been available online as companion pieces to the rough draft posts of the novels.

Join familiar characters in new stories: falling in love, managing the demands of public life and family life, matchmaking, soothing old wounds, discovering new delights, and of course, exercising that Shivadh sense of humor on one another. From Michaelis proposing to Miranda in 1978 to Gregory making Eddie the Duke of the Orange a generation later, Noah discovering from Alanna and Gregory that dating takes work to Jerry pranking Eddie and all of Photogram, Jes enjoying a pizza to Eddie discovering Shivadh diner food, these slices of life are meant to entertain the reader and enhance their experience of the novels. Learn what a svichwurm is, how the Galian Pride parade got a boost in 2022, and why Michaelis still calls Eddie “Theophile“ — and enjoy a little glimpse of what Eddie and Gregory get up to in the bedroom.

Purchase Dinner At The Palace: Hardcopy | Epub

Download: Free PDF | Night Mode version

#shivadhverse #self publishing #indy publishing #short stories #romance #romance novels #short form romance #ruritarian romance