american-ashkenazi jewish food poll!
i had said in the tags of one of my other posts that a good way to break jewish stereotypes and antisemitism away from the current. political situation is to uplift diaspora jewish culture and so!! starting off with an american-ashkenazi food poll! i am american-ashkenazi and this is the food i ate growing up. some ashkenazi food is gross so this is the only good one
(fwiw i dont support the israeli govt and if i see any support on my blog thats a block <3)
(also if i see discourse in the comments ur speaking privileges are revoked.)
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love me softly p2
tags from @otteranha in response to this post that reminded no one can see what’s in my head and i need to Use My Words (also tagging @legitcookie <3)
It’s high school Steve. Preppy, douchey, scared high school Steve, who uses more hair product in a day than Eddie’s ever used in his life, with his collared, tucked in shirts and expensive watch. Steve who sneers and stares and stays quiet when Tommy H talks shit, when he trips people in the cafeteria for his own amusement.
Steve, who’s never worried about running out of hot water during showers, who eats bagel sandwiches in Click’s class every day and leaves crumbs on the floor. Steve, who asks all the questions in class that Eddie doesn’t bother asking, who seems to struggle just as much as Eddie, but nobody would know it, because Steve doesn’t look the type to fail classes.
Steve, who always looks a little tense when he thinks no one’s looking, a little too wide-eyed, a little too sad. Like he’s worried about someone seeing him, seeing through him. Like he’s not really Steve Harrington at all.
Eddie’s crush starts as curiosity. He wonders about him more than he admires him, why there are walls around him, why he almost glares at Tommy H when he isn’t looking.
Steve isn’t like the other ones. He isn’t loud and obnoxious, doesn’t call people names or throw fries at them just for fun. He picks up his trash in the cafeteria, smiles at the cleaning ladies.
He’s quiet when no one’s around. When he’s alone in class, he just works silently, doing something in his notebook that doesn’t really look like writing. And Eddie’s curiosity turns from just wanting to know who Steve Harrington is, to who Steve Harrington is and what he draws in his notebook when he’s not taking notes.
Then he notices how pretty his eyes are, and Eddie wants to slam his head in his locker until he collapses on the floor, because this was never supposed to happen. He has fucking butterflies. Christ.
He still doesn’t know who Steve Harrington is. He still doesn’t know why he tenses a little every time he mentions his dad. (Though Eddie can guess.) He still doesn’t know if Steve really even likes Tommy H. He still doesn’t know why Steve lingers one day when Tommy knocks some freshman’s books out of his hands, why he helps the kid sort his papers back out before he runs to catch up with Tommy. He still doesn’t know what he draws in his notebook.
And Eddie doesn’t want to know the king. He wants to know Steve.
Steve, who stares at Eddie across the classroom one day as Eddie is chewing on his pencil, who looks away sharply when Eddie’s eyes meet his.
Steve, whose cheeks flush pink.
part three
read the whole thing in ao3
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