People are addressing the rampant casual racism in this fandom and here comes these big fools talking about how "they just hate lestat" and "it was about shipping all along"....... please know that no amount of side stepping the point will change the amount of racism in this fandom.
You can try to obfuscate as much as you want but that doesn't change the fact that by alienating black fans and other fans with valid complaints and grievances about how this show is discussed on here, you're allowing space for racists and bigots at large in the fandom. People are justified in calling out such nonsense.
If you're comfortable coming to the rescue of someone who is anti-affirmative action and who thinks reverse racism is valid, be my guest. That's between you and your conscience. But don't make it to be about "fandom wank" when people are being very explicit about what is really up. Just own up to the fact that you see nothing wrong with that and live in your truth.
I have seen the trajectory of some of the prominent accounts on this site, the sort of victim blaming rhetoric they engage with and the language they use to talk about the role race plays in this story. One of them soft launching their rancid political beliefs does not surprise me. What I find truly disturbing is the immediate reflex some of you have to fly to her rescue or outright ignore this.
Is remaining mutuals with this sort of internet "friend" really that important to you? Does being cordial online with bigots make you a better person?
Anyway.... examine that for yourselves.
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Warmth
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie takes you home after work (1150 words)
Contents: Reader suffers from chronic pain, smoking weed, no gender descriptors for reader, reader is called Baby
Please note I am not a doctor and do not take any medical advice from me ok thanks also each person's health is different from someone elses so please be kind to each other thanks bye
You sigh as you finally lock the door for the store. You had started the day out with working your regular shift. Which had been fine, even if you had felt a little stiff. Then that coworker called in sick...again. And your boss begged you to stay late...again. You had wanted to say no, but the prospect of getting a bit extra in your paycheck, well, you couldn't pass it up.
But now your body was screaming at you. Working for twelve hours had your joints aching. Some days you could barely roll over in bed without the pain. Could barely think a coherent thought as your joints and muscles screamed at you.
And other days, the good days, you felt you could run a marathon. Not because of an absence of pain, but the pain was so little compared to what you were used to it felt like nothing. Some days started like this and ended like the bad days.
And today was ending like a bad day. Especially because that one manager, the one who seemed to not like you, was on duty. Your boss, the sweetest old man in the world, didn't care if you sat in a chair at your register. But the manager who came in for the evening shift once the boss was gone? Took it away and called you lazy, even if you were the best cashier they had.
You slowly but steadily made your way to the van that was sitting idle in the parking lot. Through the passenger window you can see Eddie smoking a joint. When you opened the door, startling Eddie, smoke furled out. You climbed in and slammed the door shut.
"You know this is just begging for someone to call Hopper right?" You groan as you turn to grab your seat belt. "Figured you'd wanna smoke and relax a bit, thought I'd get it started for you." Eddie's arm reaches across you grabbing the seat belt before you could and buckling you in. "I can do it myself," you mumble.
"Yeah, you can. But maybe I want to take care of my Baby, hm?" Eddie hands you the joint," When you said you'd be late earlier, you uh said you already weren't feeling the best. Figured I could do what I can to help. Not that you can't do it yourself, you can, but you know-" "I know. Thanks."
It still was hard to accept that this is how your life was. Even harder to accept help. The thought that people were helping out of pity made you want to scream, even if you knew some people, like Eddie, were helping because they loved you not because they pitied you.
The van roars to life as Eddie presses the gas a bit too hard, causing the entire van to lurch. Eddie winces and mutters an apology. You inhale on the joint, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You crack a window to let the smoke out, humming as you close your eyes.
By the time you make it to Eddie's, you can feel the weed in your system. Softening the edges of everything. The pain easing up slightly as you relax.
Eddie tumbles out of his side, almost face planting, as he rushes to get to your door. He throws the door open and bows, "My liege." You huff out a laugh as you graciously take his hand, gripping it tightly as you step down and out of the van. Eddie winks at you as he kisses the top of your hand, causing you to swat at him. Eddie chuckles as he drops your hand to go and open the door of the trailer.
You follow Eddie inside and to his room after kicking off your shoes. Your only thought is laying down and going to sleep. You barely shrug out of your uniform before collapsing onto his bed. Usually, Eddie would make some joke about getting naked, but tonight he forgoes that and instead dims he lights, sensing how tired you are.
Eddie's bed is old and yet somehow more comfortable then yours (probably because Eddie moves around so much in his sleep he doesn't stick to just one spot like you do, which causes your mattress to deflate and sink in one spot). You toss the nearest blanket over you, sighing in relief that you made it through the day.
You can hear Eddie enter and leave the room a few times, mumbling to himself. The sound of his rings hitting his dresser. The creaking of the drawers opening and shutting as he finds something to wear to bed. The distant beeping of a microwave going off before Eddie leaves the room again.
"Made you something," Eddie says as he reenters the room. "Not hungry," you mumble into the pillow. "Its not food- well, it is but not anymore? I mean we could eat it buuuuuttt..."
You peek an eye open to look at Eddie. In his hands is an oddly shaped lump. You can recognize the familiar pattern as the curtains in Eddie's room (and the realization there are no curtains anymore hits you). You can tell it was supposed to be a rectangle, but is more oblong like an oval.
Eddie gingerly places it against your back and- oh. It's warm.
Eddie crawls onto the bed next to you," Remember the heating pad? How it died? Well, figured might as well make my own and save us some money. Filled with rice, so if we really need to I guess we could eat it but I don't think that's uh the best idea."
"You sew?" You ask softly. Eddie grins at you," Mama taught me." Eddie readjusts the bag against you where it fell away. "Eds..." Eddie hums looking up at you," Yeah?"
"Thank you." "Anytime Baby. I'd do anything I can for you." You smirk at him," Anything?" Eddie rolls his eyes as he grins back," Weeelll-" you both chuckle. You roll back onto your side and close your eyes.
And as you lay there you think of how much Eddie loves you. How often he shows you his love. How he opens doors for you and closes them. How Eddie doesn't treat you as glass like some of your friends do, but how he still cares and makes you comfortable. How Eddie doesn't try to limit you and let's you set the pace for yourself. How Eddie took down his curtains to make you a heating pad because yours went out.
You reach back and slowly link your hand with his. Eddie hums slightly, linking your fingers, before shifting and wrapping his arm around you, drawing you closer.
You can feel the warmth from the rice. The warmth of Eddie's body. The warmth from his breath as he falls asleep. And the warmth from your heart as it yells out how in love you are.
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as much as Eddie makes fun of Steve for having immaculate outfits he’s not blind, he notices things. He has a whole section of his brain dedicated to ‘Steve harrington lore’. And a new addition to the files is that when Steve is stressed, he irons his clothes, it lets him give the outward appearance of being in control, of being the Image of ‘Steve Harrington’.
So when Eddie starts to see the ironed in seems make an appearance he starts to take a little extra time in his day to check in with Steve. He spends an extra five minutes at lunch to sit close and hold his hand, to thank him for the sandwich he made for them both. He gets to pick Steve and Robin up, he’ll look after the kids. Just anything to make Steve feel a little more looked after
It takes a week or two but the perfect seems and straight cuffs start to fade out, Steve’s shoulders loosen up and he slowly starts coming back to himself. They are in Eddie’s bed, wrapped up in a duvet that it’s really to hot for when steve leans up to place a kiss on Eddie’s cheek muttering a ‘thanks’.
Eddie pulls away ‘not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment but you don’t have to thank me for giving you a hand job darling, think we are passed that point’. All said with a smirk. Steve rolls his eyes, equally stupid smile on his face but carries on ‘don’t be a dick, I was trying to thank you for looking after me but I can take it back if-‘ Eddie stops him before he can finish, capturing him in a saccharine kiss trying to convince him that he never has to say thank you for something that Eddie sees as part of his daily life. He wakes up, he eats his cereal and he looks after Steve harrington, simple as that
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