#jewish steve

[ablogcalledrevenge]

So I headcanon Eddie as Jewish and I think that once the kids graduate and no more crazy shit happens in Hawkins, Steve follows Robin to whatever college she wants to go to, and Eddie follows Steve. Probably a big city like Chicago or Boston or New York.

Eddie scours the city for Jewish delis, ordering a bagel with lox or pastrami on rye at every one, wanting to find the best. It’s at one of these delis that he meets a bunch of older Jewish women looking for a mahjong player. See Rose just moved to Boca because the winter is bad on her knees so they need a new fifth and Eddie’s a Nice Jewish Boy and he likes games so he offers to join them.

Turns out he’s not that good at it. It doesn’t hold his attention like D&D while also moving too fast for him to follow. He’s too indecisive about hands, trying to switch late in the round.

But Steve… Steve LOVES mahjong. Steve is good at mahjong.

Cut to every Thursday night, Steve going off to Diane or Sylvie’s house to play mahjong with a bunch of old ladies. They adore Steve and how sweet he is, always helping them clean up the tiles and get to their cars.

“And he’s so handsome, isn’t he Ruth? If he weren’t dating Eddie, he’d be perfect for my granddaughter. Such a mensch.”

Because they know about Eddie and Steve. It’s easy to see when you know what to look for and Sarah and Ruth have been roommates since 1967.

So they play and gossip and eat snacks and exchange recipes. Steve asks for creative meals during Passover since he’s got a picky eater. They assume it’s one of the kids he babysits. It’s actually Eddie.

Just give me Steve hanging out with cool old ladies, being a little bitchy, eating rugelach, and taking Eddie out to dinner on his winnings.

[stuckyfingers]

What are you doing Alpine

Photo: Steve and Bucky trying to take a selfie on a sunny pier in Brooklyn.

its been a long time since I've posted art... So have some domestic stucky!

[unclewaynemunson]

Eddie loves calling Steve all kinds of Hebrew pet names. In the beginning, Steve doesn't understand what any of them mean, but the love in the way Eddie pronounces the words is so clear that it makes him melt every single time. As he starts learning more Hebrew, he starts using Hebrew pet names for Eddie too.

While Eddie loves using a wide variety of pet names, his favorite will always be neshama sheli (נשמה שלי), which literally translates to "my soul." He loves it because of how poetic it is, and it's a safe way to tell Steve how much he loves him when it's still too scary to say those things in English. Because it rolls off his tongue so beautifully, it soon evolves into something natural to call Steve.

Steve, on the other hand, starts out sticking to a simple ahuvi (אהובי - my love). Learning the language doesn't come easy to him, but as he grows more confident incorporating some Hebrew words and phrases in his vocabulary, he starts to love calling Eddie ugiya sheli (עוגייה שלי - my cookie). He learned that one from Wayne as a joke; Eddie pretends to hate it, but Steve and Wayne both know better.

[riality-check]

Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

[koushirouizumi]

Hanukkah this year, 2024, in comparison, Actually will be on December 25th, beginning at sundown; but it will also last until January 2nd, at sundown!! (So, if you want to place a similar fic around 2024, where they will all be gathered at 'similar' timeframes, this year would be a good year for that timeline-wise.) {However, January 7th specifically will be on a Sunday, which is too late for Shabbat, as Shabbat ends at sundown on Saturdays.} You can still place a Shabbat meal around the 5th~6th though!

For future dates, you can check this link too! Please always check Hebrew calender dates first (and double-check to be sure!!) before attempting to write a Jewish holiday or Jewish character into any of your fic/worldbuilding universes, in order to portray us with genuine respect!!

Since Russians celebrate Christmas on January 7th, I always assumed one of the Russian Digidestined was Jewish and that dinner we saw the main three having was a Shabbat dinner, or maybe one of them had the others over for a quaint little Hanukkah dinner post Digimon crisis.

(Kenta note: According to my spellcheck Shabbat is spelled wrong, but since I don’t know otherwise, I’m leaving it as is.)

[libraryofgage]

Meddling Kids

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two | Three 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two Scooby Gang One (you're here!) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One

From the girl that brought you that silly little Spicy Six Scooby Movie post (I've been thinking of making that post into one of those social media series things on Tumblr but imma let that cook a little longer actually lmao) is a brand new Stranger Things and Scooby Doo crossover

Anyway, we're here for good vibes and fluffy Scooby gang, so definitely don't point out any typos hfjkds

Have fun reading!

---------

People coming.

Steve freezes, looking at the possum that's scurried into the room and sidled up next to him. He takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to relax. People have come to explore the abandoned lab before; usually, it's just older kids daring each other to stand inside for a few minutes. There's been that lady recently who likes dressing up as a weird rat-thing, but she hasn't bothered Steve or his friends. Actually, she may not even realize Steve is here.

"Is it the lady again?" he asks, his voice low as he places a hand on the possum's head. He feels its nerves flow through his palm, and it pushes its head against him, snout nuzzling against the 004 on his arm.

No. Four big ones and a beast.

Four adults and a dog, probably. Steve frowns slightly and gets up, carefully making his way across the dirty floor toward the window. He lifts the corner of the curtain and stares at the bright blue, green, and orange van parked in front of the building. Four adults are standing around with a big dog, which isn't looking too happy about being near the place. Steve can't blame it.

He slowly pushes the window open a crack, straining his ears to hear one of the adults say, "Okay, gang. Daphne, Velma, and I will look around downstairs. Shag, you and Scooby will take the second floor. We'll meet back in the lobby in an hour."

"Can't we just, like, not explore the creepy abandoned lab for once?"

Steve assumes this is the one called Shag, and he hopes the other man agrees to just leave. That would make his life so much easier. He hears the dog, Scooby, agree with the sentiment and hopes the other people can understand him, too.

Unfortunately, one of the women says, "C'mon, guys, the monster isn't real. Here, I'll give you some Scooby Snacks for the road."

And that seems to be the end of that. The man and dog accept the snacks, the people enter the building, and Steve resigns himself to hiding for however long they stick around.

He bunkers down, leaning against the wall beneath the window, and goes back to coloring the floor with markers. This entire room is covered in drawings that reach only a few feet up the wall. Steve isn't tall enough to go any higher.

Right now, he's drawing all the animals in the building. There are the ones that were there to begin with (mostly rats and rabbits) and the ones that moved in after the bad people left (possums and raccoons and cats and more rats). He doodles them marching across the floor, a relaxed smile tugging at his lips as he colors a cat purple.

He's putting the finishing touches on the final animal in the line (the very same possum that came to warn him about the people) when he hears a scream from down the hall. Steve blinks, looking up just in time to see Shag and Scooby throw open the door, slide into the room, and slam it behind them.

They lean against it, sinking to the ground, and finally notice Steve sitting against the opposite wall. "Like, Scooby, please tell me I'm imagining that kid over there," Shag says, his voice wavering and cracking near the end.

Scooby starts out looking as scared as Shag, but then he tilts his head. He hesitates for a few seconds before dropping low to the floor and slowly moving toward Steve. "Scoob, what are you doing?" Shag asks.

Not a ghost, Shaggy!

"Not a rhost, Raggy!"

Steve blinks, frowning in confusion. Scooby talked. Like, actually talked. He talked out loud and Shaggy (it makes as little sense as Shag in Steve's opinion) understood him. "There, like, can't be a kid here!"

By the time he says this, Scooby has reached Steve, looking up at him from the floor with hopeful eyes and an eagerly wagging tail. Steve holds himself back for all of two seconds before reaching out and scratching behind Scooby's ear.

The dog lights up and tries to squeeze into Steve's lap, licking his cheeks and covering him in slobber. Steve laughs, trying to evade Scooby's tongue and utterly failing. "Stop, stop!" he shouts breathlessly, still giggling even when Scooby finally gives him a break.

"Oh, man," Shaggy says, slowly moving from the door to approach Steve. When he's a few steps away, he stops and crouches. "What are you doing here, little guy?"

Steve blinks, glancing at Shaggy before turning his attention back to Scooby. He reaches up, scratching under Scooby's chin and trying to ignore his nerves about talking to another human after being alone for so long. "This is my home," he says.

Your home?

"Your rome?"

"Like, man, this is not a good home," Shaggy says, looking around at the dust and the cobwebs and the possum in the corner of the room. "Don't you have, like, parents or something?"

"Not really."

Can we keep him, Shaggy?

"Can re keep him, Raggy?" Scooby asks, his tail wagging hopefully as he looks at Shaggy over his shoulder.

"Gee, Scoob, I don't know," Shaggy says, frowning slightly as he finally sits down on the floor and hunches over. "A kid's a lotta responsibility, man. We gotta feed him and clothe him and, like, make sure he doesn't get sick."

Steve looks between the two and can't help a slight smile. Shaggy is nice, and Scooby is a dog, which automatically makes him good to Steve. He doesn't mind helping them out a little. "You're here about that lady, right?" he asks.

Lady?

"Rady?"

"Like, what do you mean lady?" Shaggy asks.

"The one dressing like a rat," Steve says, wondering how they didn't make that connection themselves. Haven't they already realized it's not a real rat-thing?

"Oh, man, I guess Velma was right," Shaggy says, a relieved laugh bubbling out of him as he slumps even more. "We gotta tell the gang, right, Scoob?"

Yeah, yeah!

"Reah, reah!"

"Are you trying to catch her?" Steve asks, looking between the two once more.

"Well, like, the rest of the gang's gonna want to."

"I can help with that," Steve offers, smiling reassuringly at the concerned looks that Shaggy and Scooby give him in return.

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

Hawkins is supposed to be a vacation. Sort of. There's a possible mystery in the town, but even Velma couldn't confirm for sure, and Daphne had encouraged them to just relax.

Steve is inclined to agree with her, especially when she buys them a house with a pool that Scooby immediately launched himself into.

Still, he can tell that Velma won't relax unless she gets a chance to look around, so he finds her to go on a grocery run. "Oh, you're right," she says when he points out the lack of food in the house. "We'd better get something before Shaggy and Scooby start chewing on the walls."

"We'll set up the bedrooms while you get groceries," Fred says, grinning at them from across the living room. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the keys to the Mystery Machine. After making sure Steve is ready, he tosses them over.

"Please just don't put me in that plaid room," Steve tells him, catching the keys and passing them to Velma.

"I think that would count as cruel and unusual punishment, Steve," Daphne calls, her voice coming from down the hall where she's no doubt started setting up her room. She pokes her head into the hall, smiles at him, and adds, "Don't worry. We'll put Shaggy and Scooby in that one."

"Knowing them, they'd like it," Velma says.

As if he was just waiting for his queue, Shaggy leans over the second-floor railing and shouts, "Dibs on the plaid room! It looks groovy!"

Steve snorts as Velma rolls her eyes with an amused smile. "Come on, Steve, let's get going."

The drive to the grocery store is quiet, with Steve paying more attention to the town around him and Velma focusing on driving. He notes anything that looks weird, like the lack of people walking around. They pass other cars, of course, but even when they drive past what could be called Downtown Hawkins, he doesn't see anyone walking around.

He tucks that away for later, seeing nothing else of note until they park near a pile of bikes at the grocery store. "They're not locked," he says, nodding to them.

"It's a small town, Steve," Velma says, unbuckling as she turns the radio down so their ears aren't blasted when they get back. "They probably don't feel the need to."

"I guess," Steve mumbles, hopping out of the van and waiting for Velma to round the front. He walks next to her and holds the door open when they reach it. "Maybe we can get sandwich stuff."

"We'll have to wipe out their entire deli section," Velma says, sighing as she grabs a cart and pushes it towards the produce aisle. "At least we never have to worry about food waste."

Steve hums in agreement, easily falling into their normal routine of Velma calling out items and him grabbing at least five of them if there's enough in stock. "What do you think about that mystery?" he asks, placing a bag of apples in the cart.

"I think that forest out there is prime real estate," she replies, leaning on the cart's push bar. "Get a watermelon, too, Steve. Anyway, demon dogs aren't the weirdest we've run across."

"They were demodogs. Not demon dogs."

"I still think that was just a typo. Either way, I'm sure we can walk around the forest later and, you know, learn what the squirrels have seen."

Steve crinkles his nose, glancing at her as they make their way towards the deli. "You know the squirrels are too flighty. We're better off with the raccoons. Or, like, the sparrows."

He looks over to see her smirking and realizes she was just teasing him. Steve huffs and grabs as many sandwich meats as he can, getting everything but ham since Velma can't eat it and it gives Daphne migraines.

"Well, whichever animals you interrogate, I'm sure they'll clear up this mystery in no time."

Steve hums in agreement, follows Velma into the cereal aisle, and is about to say they should consider focusing on field mice when a voice from the other side of the shelf says, "Dude, spray cheese isn't gonna help us against the demodogs."

He blinks, pauses, and looks at Velma. She tilts her head, holds a finger up to her lips, and waves off the smirk he gives her at being right about demodogs not being a typo. "Yeah, I know," another voice says, followed by the clatter of grabbing a few cans, "but I want Cheez-Whiz."

"That stuff is gross," a girl's voice says, her tone flat in a way that Steve almost recognizes. He frowns slightly, tilting his head as he silently places a few cereal boxes in the cart. "It tastes fake."

"That's the point, El."

"Shouldn't we focus on lighters and hairspray?"

"I mean, this is technically a spray, right?"

Steve glances at Velma, raising an eyebrow before gesturing to the end of the aisle. She nods once and starts pushing the cart in that direction, huffing in amusement when Steve drops in a few more boxes along the way. "You'd think we're feeding an army," she says, tone dry.

"We might as well be," Steve replies, feelings his shoulders relax at the routine exchange.

They round the corner to see three kids down the aisle, two boys and one girl. One of the boys has curly hair and a baseball cap while the other is wearing a basketball jersey, and the girl has short hair that falls to her shoulders. They're all looking at the shelf, but the girl glances over when Velma and Steve enter the aisle.

She meets Steve's eyes, and he wonders if he's met her before. Her eyes narrow slightly, more in confusion than anything else, and her gaze travels down. He feels it on his arm as she lands on the 004, and her eyes widen as she steps away from the shelf.

Steve glances down at her arm in turn, sees the 011, and feels like his breath has been punched out of him. "Eleven," he whispers.

Next to him, Velma shifts closer, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I'm here," she says, her voice low and more reassuring than she'll ever know.

"Four," Eleven says, walking up to him without another glance at her companions. "Are you here to hurt me or my friends?"

Steve blinks. "What?"

"Are you violent? Kali, Eight, was violent. And angry. Are you angry?"

As she talks, the two boys move to flank her, looking between Steve and Velma with something between suspicion and confusion. "Is this one of your siblings, El?" Basketball Jersey asks.

"Yes. Four. He was...transferred a year before the Upside Down. Four, these are my friends Dustin and Lucas"

"I go by Steve now. And, uh, no, not violent. We're grocery shopping," Steve says, awkwardly gesturing to their cart.

"Steve? You can name yourself and you choose Steve?" Dustin asks.

Steve blinks and frowns. "I didn't name myself. I asked the smartest rat I knew to name me."

The two boys blink as El nods in understanding. "The rat chose well," she says.

"Dude, how many people are you feeding?" Lucas asks, seeming to finally notice the shopping cart.

"Well, one of them is a Great Dane," Velma says. "Hello, El. I'm Velma, one of Steve's...guardians, I suppose. How would you like to come by for dinner? El and Steve can catch up, and you can tell us about those demodogs you mentioned."

"Were you spying on us?" Lucas asks.

"You weren't exactly being quiet," Velma tells them.

Before Lucas or Dustin can start arguing, El cuts them off, "We will come by for dinner. I am glad we met again, Steve."

"Yeah. Me, too," Steve replies, smiling at El and wondering if they'll have to explain how Scooby can talk.

----------

Tag List (please let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@romanticdestruction,

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Click the image for the high-quality version!

template

[intothedysphoria]

Billy really connects with Mr Harrington.

It’s something that absolutely mortifies Steve, who has a love hate relationship with the dad jokes and the 1930s model train sets but Billy loves it.

He’s very quiet, both of Steve’s parents are, and very friendly. There’s constantly a smell of food that Billy is never quite familiar with but grows to adore. A culture Steve had tried to scrub from himself in public, but in private is jubilant about.

They make him matzah ball soup. Invite him to temple. Mr Harrington is a Rabbi at the nearest reform synagogue and Billy found out that Steve spends most of his spare time there. Helping out.

Billy asks if Steve ever feels damned for being queer. Steve responds that Judaism doesn’t really have an idea of Hell and no, never.

There’s always a bit of the green eyed monster around when Steve never says he’s part of a religion that feels like it’s choking him. Billy is immensely proud of being Catholic and would never envy the antisemitism Steve deals with regularly but still. It feels different.

Then sometimes they’ll lie on Steve’s bed, getting ash on the mattress while holding hands and all Billy can focus on is how right it feels.

They both have their complicated relationships with their religions but sometimes it’s just Billy and Steve. And that’s when it all makes sense.

[thevillainsfangirl]

Antisemites aren't allowed to enjoy content or characters created by Jewish people. They're also not allowed to enjoy Jewish characters either. Sorry, those are the rules! 🤷🏽‍♀️

[sentient-trash]

More progress on the sillies I love their facial expressions they are so silly

[logansgaar]

Okay but what if Bucky gets found out by HYDRA and Zola after capture because Dugan and Gabe are always ushering him to the back away from possible notice, to the point it backfires and draws suspicion. When they pick him out HYDRA orders him to recite the Lord's Prayer and Bucky recites what he always remembers Steve saying. The Prayer he made sure to remember before he was shipped out just in case something like this happened.

Only... Steve is Catholic. The Prayer that Bucky's heard Steve and some of his fellow soldiers recite is different from the one a Protestant would recite and his dog tags say he's a Protestant. He didn't even know they said the Prayer differently.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 8: Hanukkah Traditions

Steve was nervous. He'd moved in with Eddie and Wayne a month ago since his parents told him in no uncertain terms to be out by the time they got back. The past month had felt so warm and loving. But Hanukkah was beginning tomorrow and Steve was freaking out.

"Sweetheart, you don't need to stress out about it, you don't even need to join in the traditions if you don't want to. Plus Wayne and I are very chill about it, I think Wayne just likes to remember his mother's stories the most, she would've loved you."

"But it is important, Eds! You and Wayne have been so good to me and I want to show you that I appreciate that."

Eddie sighed moving towards him, curling Steve's clenched hands and intertwining their fingers.

"We know you appreciate it, Stevie, and we both love you so much, secretly I think Wayne prefers you." Steve has a quirk of a smile for a moment.

"Only cause I don't burn the toast when I make breakfast."

"It was one time and I was 12, sorry for putting effort into father's day for him," Eddie joked. "C'mon let's go help Wayne finish letting up."

Later, when the menorah was set and ready on the windowsill, cabinets stocked with ingredients for all the food they'd make, and gifts wrapped for the week ahead, the three men sat with mugs of coffee despite the late hour.

"You ready for your first Hanukkah, Steve?" Wayne asked.

"I think so, Eddie has told me a bit but I'm excited to learn."

"That's good of you, son, don't worry if you don't get it all right away, Eddie tried lighting all the candles at once when he was little."

"Can we lay off poor baby Eddie, he was a sweet boy."

"A sweet boy that brought toads home as pets."

"The frogs are mean to them."

Wayne chuckled at his nephews antics.

"Would you like to hear the story of Judah and the Maccabees, Steve? My memory isn't as good as it used to be but I'm sure I can make it as exciting as my Ma used to tell it."

"I'd love to," Steve smiled. Wayne smiled softly, getting comfy in his chair and began to tell the tale. Steve leaned into Eddie as he listened, he might not know all the traditions yet, but it already feels more like home and family than Christmas with his parents ever did.

Ao3

[stuckyfingers]

The Sniper

Leyendecker inspired Bucky!

(A couple of yiddish versions below the cut)

[unclewaynemunson]

'What's your favorite holiday?' Steve asked while they were looking at the fireworks, pressed against each other in the dark of the night. They had been dancing around each other for months, ever since Eddie woke up in the hospital with Steve already at his bedside. They had taken their time to get to know each other better, to let that something between them grow and to figure out what it all meant exactly. But around the time Eddie graduated, it had finally culminated into what it had been destined to be from the start.

Eddie could barely believe they had only been official for about a month and a half, that Steve had only been part of his life for a little over three months. But he knew, with a certainty that he couldn't really explain, that he and Steve belonged to be like this. No matter how scary it had been to fall for him, it had been the only available option.

'Sukkot,' Eddie answered his question with no hesitation.

Steve leaned away a little bit to be able to look at Eddie.

'Was that the one that was, like, three weeks ago?'

'No, that was Shavu'ot,' Eddie answered patiently. He knew that Steve was trying very hard to keep up, and that the Hebrew words didn't exactly make it easier on him. 'The boring one that Wayne's obsessed with.'

Steve chuckled. 'So what is Sukkot?'

'I thought you'd never ask, big boy,' said Eddie, a wide grin creeping over his face. 'It's the best fucking week of the year. We build those huts in our yards where we're supposed to live all week. It's really awesome, we get to be outside all the time and Wayne tells all the best stories about how our ancestors escaped from Egypt and wandered through the desert for years. Back in Virginia, on the farm, it also used to be this celebration that the harvest was done. The best moment of the year, man, like when the summer holiday starts, y'know.'

'Sounds pretty cool.'

'Pretty cool?' Eddie repeated in a mock-offended tone. 'Pretty cool?! Stevie, how dare you, it's fucking magical! It's the awesomest of holidays! You know what? You're gonna have to join us this October and get the whole experience!'

'Are you sure?' Steve looked weirdly hesitant about Eddie's proposal and Eddie felt the excitement in his chest deflate like a popped balloon.

'Yeah, I mean... If you want to,' he said, reigning himself in a little bit. Maybe Steve thought it was weird, maybe he would never quite understand it, maybe –

'Of course I want to,' Steve cut off his spiraling thoughts, like the mere suggestion was completely ridiculous. 'But would it be okay? You wouldn't mind? And your uncle?'

'Why the hell would we mind, Stevie?'

'Well, I'm not Jewish...'

Eddie chortled. 'Yeah, we know that, dude. But you're always welcome in our humble little home.'

And Steve's face lit up in a way that the fireworks in the sky above them could never compete with. 'Alright,' he said. 'Then I'd love to celebrate this awesomest of holidays with you.'

******

And so it happens that a little over three months later, Eddie runs out of the trailer with even more excitement than usual when Steve's way too fancy car shows up. He basically jumps into his boyfriend's arms as soon as Steve gets out of his car – and of course Steve catches him, stumbling only a little bit while huffing out an “oomph” as Eddie wraps all four of his limbs around his body.

'Hello to you, too,' he murmurs with a soft smile on his face. He can't exactly kiss Eddie here, in broad daylight with all of Eddie's neighbors to see, but he lets his hands linger around Eddie's shoulders when he gently puts him down on the ground.

'You're excited.'

'We're building the hut today!'

'The sukkot, right?'

And the proud smile around Steve's lips makes it almost impossible for Eddie to correct him.

'The sukkah, babe. It's one sukkah, multiple sukkot.'

'Sukkah,' Steve repeats, his voice still as unsure as ever when he tries the Hebrew words that are so familiar to Eddie and Wayne and still so foreign to him.

'C'mon, Wayne's already waiting for us.'

Eddie starts tugging Steve along with him towards the trailer. He wishes he could do that by taking his hand instead of the sleeve of his jacket, but he's too aware of how careful they have to be here, out in the open in the trailer park.

They go around the trailer, where Wayne is already surrounded by a bunch of corrugated sheets and some big pine branches.

'We're building it here?' Steve sounds surprised. 'Why not on the porch?'

Eddie sees his uncle's face fall, and his own excited smile fades away as well.

'It's too eye-catching, on the other side,' Wayne explains to Steve. 'Too many folks lookin' to trash stuff 'round here, ya know.'

Almost every year, they find some graffiti on the walls of their sukkah at some point of the week. It has become better since they moved the hut to the backside of their trailer, hidden away from Forest Hills' main roads. Before, when they still built it in front of their home, they'd regularly find the roof or the walls demolished. Nothing ever happened when one of them was home: both Wayne and Eddie were protected from any serious danger by their own scary looks. But unfortunately, the sukkah did not enjoy the same protection when the Munson men weren't present to keep an eye on it.

Wayne doesn't outright say it with that many words – that's not his style – but Eddie can see in the arch of Steve's eyebrows that he gets it. That he understands that Forest Hills is not the kind of place where Hebrew should be spoken loudly and that anything more than a menorah in front of a window can be considered offensive real quick. He sees that Steve understands it, because Steve knows what it feels like to not be able to take his boyfriend's hand when they're outside. It's not the same, but it's similar, in a way.

When Eddie came out to Wayne, his uncle told him that he was sorry Eddie got dealt the wrong cards twice. But that's not how Eddie sees it. Standing here, in the quiet world behind the trailer, with his uncle, his boyfriend and a pile of junk that will soon turn into a refuge, he gets the confirmation of what he already knew back then: that he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if it means having to hide away from prejudiced eyes, he'd choose this right here over anything easier in a heartbeat.

Wayne takes off his trucker hat to reveal the kippah he often wears hidden underneath it, then turns Eddie around by his shoulders so he can attach a kippah to his curls with some hairpins. Eddie usually never wears one: he doesn't like being told what to do in any way, and he proudly wears the pentagram of the Church of Satan on his denim vest. But for events like this, Wayne insists the kippah is important, and Eddie has long since he moved in with his uncle learned that there's no use digging his heels in the sand about it. If it's that important for Uncle Wayne, he'll doesn't mind complying.

'And one for you,' Wayne states after Eddie's kippah is properly secured to his head, turning towards Steve with a third one in his outstretched hand.

Steve's eyes widen in an almost cartoon-like way.

'For me?' he repeats, as if he's unsure if he understands Wayne correctly.

'U-huh,' Wayne confirms with a nod of his head.

Steve's eyes flash back and forth between Eddie and Wayne, still clearly confused, like he's trying to catch some lie or a prank between the two of them.

'That's – would that be okay?' he stammers.

'Neshama sheli,' Eddie says, his voice soft. 'Of course that'd be okay. It's the polite thing to do, actually, when you're in shul – or in other Jewish places – whether you're a Jew or not.'

'Okay, cool,' Steve says with a little shrug of his shoulders. He's slightly too obviously trying to play it cool, and that makes Eddie realize something he hadn't really considered before: that Steve is nervous about this. For Eddie, sukkot is nothing but a holiday of fun. But Steve doesn't know any of those traditions, he doesn't know any of the unwritten rules. For all he knows, what they're doing today is something sacred and solemn – it makes sense that he's afraid to do the wrong thing or mess it up somehow. It's written all over his face: he's afraid to be disrespectful, to be an intruder, to somehow offend Wayne and Eddie without meaning to...

Steve takes the kippah from Wayne and places it on his hair, where it lies dangerously close to sliding off.

'Here, lemme help you.' Eddie digs around in his own pockets to find some long forgotten hairpins and slides up behind Steve, attaching the kippah to some strands of his soft, shiny hair. When he's done, he slides his arms around Steve's waist and tugs him close to his chest.

'Hey,' he whispers in his ear, nuzzling his nose against the soft hair right above it because he simply can't resist the temptation of touching Steve's locks in any way, ever. 'You don't need to worry 'bout anything. We're just gonna build a hut, that's all. And we're trailer park Jews anyway, we don't care about etiquette and shit. Or, well, maybe Wayne does, a little bit, but he's used to me, so... You're good.'

Steve chuckles, then turns himself around in Eddie's arms until they're face-to-face.

'Thank you,' he whispers in the space between them.

Wayne emphatically clears his throat, no doubt worried that the boys are about to forget he's still with them.

'You lovebirds ready to get to work?'

Slightly unwilling, Eddie lets go of Steve and flashes Wayne an excited grin. 'Alright, my dearest uncle, tell us what to do.'

The next hour or so is spent hauling corrugated sheets around and assembling them into a decent-sized hut. While Eddie is drilling their metal walls together, Wayne tells Steve all about the meaning behind what they're doing. He gets like that with every holiday: he loves the big stories, and Eddie has always loved listening to Wayne telling them.

'All of this,' Wayne explains with a gesture towards the half-finished sukkah, 'Is to remind us of what happened to our people a long time ago. They were enslaved in Egypt, far away from their homes. When they got out, they wandered through the desert for forty years, tryin' to find their way back. They suffered drought, storms, heat, famine... But G-d's protection was with them every step of their way, until He safely delivered them back to their homeland. For forty years, they didn't have no place to call home. They slept in huts beneath the stars. That's why, for one week a year, we still live in huts. We don't sleep here, 's too cold for that in Indiana –'

'I do sometimes,' Eddie cuts in.

'Your boy is crazy,' Wayne dryly states. 'But we live here as much as possible. The most important thing is to have all our meals in here, as long as it ain't raining too hard. We're not supposed to make a solid roof, y'know, 'cause it's supposed to be a reminder of how our people used to sleep under the open sky. It's a symbol for how we should submit ourselves to G-d's protection.'

Steve listens attentively and keeps asking Wayne all kinds of questions while they continue working on the roof, which they assemble out of pine branches that Eddie and Wayne took from the woods around the trailer park earlier that day.

'This day's extra special,' Wayne tells Steve when they're almost done, 'Cause it's a Friday evening. Means our first meal in the sukkah is a Shabbat meal.'

Usually, Wayne isn't exactly world's most diligent cook, but for days like this, he always tries to go a little bit bigger than usual. Not that their kitchen is suited for fabricating any kind of fancy meals – let alone that they can afford anything like that – but that doesn't really matter. Not to Eddie, at least, and he's pretty sure the same thing applies to Steve. The most important thing is that Wayne tries his very best to make days like those feel special. So while Steve and Eddie get tasked with setting up the interior of the sukkah, Wayne heads back to the trailer to make sure the food will be all done before sunset.

Steve and Eddie haul a bunch of plastic lawn chairs and a trestle table inside. After the furniture, they add some pillows, a truly hideous tablecloth, and a bunch of random clutter from the trailer to make it feel more homely. Eddie always likes to put this one Jesus sculpture they once got from the old Mrs. Brooks from number 70 in one of the corners, for no other purpose than to get on Wayne's nerves. Steve, on the other hand, actually cares about making the sukkah look good, and he comes up with the idea to walk around the trailer park and go into the woods to find some flowers as a finishing touch. Most of the vegetation around Forest Hills is withered all year round, but Steve manages to find some branches with beautiful autumn colors and a bunch of shiny chestnuts among the decaying junk.

'You manage to make anything pretty, huh,' Eddie notes when they're all done, with leaves of dark orange and golden yellow miraculously brightening up every single corner of the hut.

Steve smiles and pulls Eddie in his arms. Now, shielded by the walls of their dwelling, they can do that without worrying about the watchful eyes of nosy neighbors.

'Nah,' he murmurs, his lips ghosting over Eddie's cheek. 'I don't make things pretty, I attract pretty things.' And the way in which Steve's lips find his, soft and full of promise, tells Eddie that he wasn't merely talking about pretty things. It makes his heartbeat stutter and his cheeks heat up.

Steve pulls back before the kiss can become anything more than a promise, with a sparkle in his eyes and a soft smile still tugging at his lips.

'C'mon, let's go help your uncle with the food.'

By the time they're ready to welcome Shabbat, the autumn sun has long disappeared behind the trees and it's rapidly cooling off outside. Wayne puts on his thick plaid jacket and Steve borrows one of Eddie's favorite black hoodies. During this time of the year – when it's not yet cold enough to waste money on heating – the trailer doesn't really stay much warmer than the sukkah, so they're used to the cold anyway. Steve, however, is shamelessly exploiting the chill of the evening as an excuse to cuddle up close to Eddie at the table – not that Eddie minds that at all.

But when Wayne lights the candle and recites the blessing at sundown, it feels like the sukkah is actually much warmer than any other place in the world. It's because what's happening in this place is special, Eddie thinks. For a week, this hut is their home. It's designed to house two people – just Wayne and him – but Steve fits in this cramped space with them like he was always supposed to be here. And when Steve turns to Eddie to wish him a good shabbos with a smile on his face, Eddie knows that he will never want to celebrate another holiday – Jewish or not – without him.

Some fun facts for those who are interested: Sukkot 1986 indeed started on a Friday (October 17th) The use of corrugated sheets for a sukkah is actually quite common, and I took the liberty to interpret the skillful way in which we see Eddie drilling them down in the Upside Down, as him having plenty experience with creating a refuge with those things. For those who don't speak Hebrew: when Eddie calls Steve neshama sheli, he uses a common Hebrew pet name which literally translates to "my soul." I imagine Eddie loves calling Steve all kinds of Hebrew pet names and this is a truly beautiful one imo. I hope I did right to this really cool holiday with my lil story!

[riality-check]

More roadie shenanigans, keeping feedback from this post in mind! part 1, part 2

ao3

It’s before the second show, and they’re already fighting.

“You can’t chicken out,” Gareth says.

“I’m not gonna chicken out!”

“Good, because I’ll tell Wayne if you do,” Jeff says.

Eddie glares at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Shut up and get out of here!” Archie says, pushing Eddie toward the tech booth. He complies, but not without another scathing look over his shoulder.

His friends laugh because of course they do. They’re assholes, but, luckily, they’re the same kind of asshole that Eddie is.

He straightens out his shoulders, breathes, and prepares to grovel.

Robin and Steve are setting up just like they were at the last venue. It looks like a mess of cables and boxes from Eddie’s perspective, but Steve and Robin work with ruthless efficiency, alternately talking and signing when their hands aren’t full.

“Um,” Eddie says. G-d, he’s never been this awkward in his life. But this matters, like, really matters to him, and he’s gotta do right.

Neither of them pay him any attention.

“Excuse me?” he says a little louder.

Robin turns around. When she sees him, her expression instantly sours.

“Hello?” she drawls, sounding bored out of her mind.

Steve turns around, too. When he sees Eddie, his face-

Well, Eddie isn’t sure what that expression is supposed to mean. If he had to guess, he’d say mild annoyance.

Mild annoyance shouldn’t look that hot.

“I just wanted to say again that I’m really sorry,” he says, making sure to talk clearly and loud enough to be understood. He’s not an idiot, he knows that shouting is rude, but he makes sure he can be heard over the general chaos of setting up for a new show. “It wasn’t any of my business, and even if I meant well, it’s not an excuse.”

Steve’s face softens a whole lot as Eddie stumbles through his apology, and then he reaches up to his ears to take out ear plugs.

Huh?

“Mind saying that again?” Steve says with a smile.

Eddie is. So confused.

But then Steve laughs. “You should see your face, dude. I got the gist. Apology accepted, we’re cool.”

Okay, that makes Eddie feel better. A lot better. But he’s still confused.

And his mouth always moves faster than his brain.

“Why are you- why do you have- what-”

Robin rolls her eyes fondly. “This idiot,” she says, pointing at Steve, “always tries to do the first show without the ear plugs he needs-”

“Not this shit again,” Steve mumbles.

“-because, as it turns out, your ears do a lot more than just hear. Like balance-”

“You’re one to talk about balance, Buckley,” Steve says, giving her a light shove. She nearly topples over if not for the fact that he immediately grabs her arm to steady her.

Eddie thinks he might know even less than he thought.

“I want to make it up to you,” he says, and Steve and Robin stop bickering.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, and Robin elbows him.

“I want to,” Eddie insists. “What’s your favorite song? We’ll play it at the end of our set.”

Naïvely and terribly optimistically, Eddie hopes Steve might say something that’s already in their set list, or maybe another one of their songs.

From the way that Robin and Steve are looking at each other conspiratorially, he doesn’t think that’s the case.

“No,” Steve says, laughing and shaking his head.

Robin sneaks a glance at Eddie, smirks, and starts signing at Steve.

The only thing Eddie understands about the conversation as their hands move is their facial expressions: Robin with a smirk, and Steve trying desperately not to laugh.

He’s so cute. He gets this little crease on the side of his mouth that Eddie wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Slow the hell down, buddy.

“Fine,” Steve says, throwing his hands up in the air. He turns back to Eddie. “Pretty Fly.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Eddie blurts.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Didn’t you just apologize to me?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “It’s just that my bassist and lead singer have been gunning for this song for, like, 6 months. Archie chomps at the bit for fun bass lines, and Jeff just thinks it’s funny as-”

“Slow down,” Steve interrupts.

Right. He talks too fast.

“I’ll play it, but it means caving to my asshole friends,” Eddie says.

Robin cackles. “Told you it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, I love a good bass line,” Steve says. His face is softer again, and Eddie thinks he loves that expression.

He checks his watch. “Soundcheck is soon, so I’m gonna head back. Sorry again.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, and oh.

Eddie loves how Steve says his name.

“We’re good, okay?” he continues, small smile on his face.

“Well,” Robin chimes in. “After the apology song you will be.”

Eddie laughs. He really likes her now that she’s warmed up to him.

“Noted,” he says.

He heads back with a final wave and ducks backstage, where the band is tuning their instruments.

“Well?” Gareth asks, tightening his snare.

Eddie grabs his guitar, closes his eyes, and sighs. “He wants us to play Pretty Fly as an apology.”

“Let’s fucking go!” Archie roars, and Jeff gives him a high five.

“No way-”

“Gareth, I know-”

“You dick-hungry traitor.”

“Hey!”

“The fucking Offspring, Eddie? Punk? Are you shitting me? Punk just because you want a shot with a hot guy?”

Archie starts plucking out the bass line. Gareth throws a drum stick at his head. Jeff beams it back at him and misses.

“It’s one time,” Eddie says.

“Unless your cute roadie likes it enough,” Jeff teases.

“He’s not my anything.”

“Not yet,” Archie adds.

“Not ever.”

“Fucking pessimist,” Jeff says.

A tiny crashing sound makes them all turn toward the drum set, where Gareth is lightly thumping his head into the hi-hat.

“I’m gonna have to do the backing vocals for Pretty Fly,” he mutters.

“Your fault for sounding like a pre-pubescent chihuahua.”

Gareth throws his other drumstick at Jeff. “I’m not begging you for shit.”

“Do it for the bit,” Archie says. “You love doing it for the bit.”

Gareth picks his head up. “I do love doing anything for the bit.”

“Soundcheck in five!” someone calls.

“Thank you five!” Eddie yells back. Shit, he’s gotta tune his guitar.

Soundcheck is a breeze, and, after that, the time flies. Before he knows it, they’re out onstage, playing their usual set list.

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. The energy, the lights, the sounds, G-d, all of it. There’s nothing like being onstage and playing until his fingers hurt, nothing like joining in on the backup vocals, nothing like hearing the crowd roar with them.

It’s perfect. Touring is everything he dreamed of and more.

Eddie wants to do this for the rest of his life. They’re gonna headline one day, he knows it, but this is an amazing start.

What Eddie doesn’t want to do is talk, at Jeff’s request.

“Okay, okay,” he says, getting the crowd to quiet down. “We’ve got two more songs. The first one is one we’re playing because I fucked up.”

“And because he finally caved to us,” Jeff adds.

The crowd laughs, but it doesn’t feel mocking. Eddie laughs with them.

“So, Steve, consider this the final part of my apology-”

“And my peak embarrassment!” Gareth adds.

The crowd laughs again, and Eddie sighs, fondly long-suffering. “Let’s do it.”

The backing vocals are fucking embarrassing. Eddie’s with Gareth on that one. They suck, and he feels himself flush for reasons other than the heat.

But he imagines Steve smiling as he watches the show, and Archie is clearly having the best G-ddamn time on the bass, and Jeff is basically cackling his way through the song, so it’s worth it.

They get through it and then their closer without a hitch.

“We’re Corroded Coffin!” Jeff tells the crowd. “Y’all were amazing, so keep that energy up for the other opener and for the main act!”

The crowd roars, the lights black out, and they make their way backstage.

In the green room, on Eddie’s guitar case, is a note.

Apology more than accepted. Here’s my number in case you want to apologize again. Or maybe grab a coffee.

Text, don’t call. In case you haven’t noticed, my ears don’t work.

-Steve.

Eddie has never added a contact faster in his life.

I think I saw a 24 hour diner down the road. Hopefully they have good coffee.

Steve’s response is immediate.

Do you really think I care about the quality of the coffee?

You could be a coffee connoisseur for all I know, Eddie types back.

I don’t know a lot. Hence the date.

Date.

Woah.

Eddie tries to get his heart rate under control and text Steve back. He’s never been good at multitasking though, so by the time he’s able to formulate words again, the lights have gone down and the second opener is on. Steve’s working, and he shouldn’t be bothered.

Besides, Eddie should probably use the time between now and the end of the show to think before he speaks for once in his life.

Yeah fuck it I’ll keep the tag list (or you can follow the shiny new tag #gi;pe au): @vampireinthesun @paperbackribs @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @omgshesinsane @bestwifehaver @marklee-blackmore @gleek4twd @steddiestains @chaoticvictorianspirit @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @alienace @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @punctualhowell @pluto-pepsi @voidpacifist @sunfloweringstories @anaibis @evillitteguy @hallucinatedjosten @avi17 @b-u-g-g-y @shinekocreator @l0st-strawberry @brassreign @abbiecadabi-blog @rainbow-freckle @gregre369 @rehfan @just-a-tiny-void @weirdandabsurd42 @satan-is-obsessed @honeysucklesinger @coyotepup345 @gayafmermaid @thegingerrapunzel

[hail-americas-ass]

✒Dig My Grave, Both Wide and Deep

Link here

Steve takes his first step towards living in the 21st Century without Bucky by his side now that he hasn't got an alien invasion to distract him from grief. In which, Steve visits Bucky's grave and realises Bucky would have wanted him to live the life he couldn't have.

This fic was written for the @catws-anniversary under prompt '1940s', and for @stuckybingo under prompt '1930's', as a part 2 in my series A little something called 'History'.