#so that’s how things are going

[rebelfell]

Currently being plagued by thoughts of an older!fem!Harrington!reader... 18+, MDNI 1.4k

index here

Like you’re Steve's aunt, late 30s/early 40s.

And you’ve always been kind of a fuck-up compared to your "perfect" older sister who got the good grades and who every guy in school had a crush on; who married the rich, handsome dude and popped out a kid; who lives in this big house in this picture-perfect suburban neighborhood.

And you tried to do all that, too—really, you did. But then your husband ex turned out to be a total asshole, and he's an asshole with a really good lawyer so he's probably gonna get the house.

So you move into your sister's for the summer because they're gonna be in Europe and they’d prefer someone be there to keep an eye on Steve, who's home from college and tends to get a little out of control when he's left unsupervised...

And one day you’re woken up from a nap by the loud, relentless grinding of a lawnmower and look out your window to see the gardener.

He's young. Maybe Steve's age if not a touch older. And he is just…stunning. So Beautiful that it’s hard to look at him, but in your current state, looking at him is about all you can do.

Alabaster skin decorated with black ink, dark curls tied up in a bun to keep them off his sticky neck. Threadbare tank top clinging to his slender frame he's so drenched with sweat from the heat. Arm and leg muscles flexing, glinting with it.

Then suddenly he stops, and his eyes drift to the upstairs window to lock onto yours. You freeze in place, wondering if he can even see you, and just when you’ve convinced yourself he can't...a smile curls across his lips and he raises his hand to wiggle his fingers at you in a wave.

Panic makes you seize and fling away from the window, knocking into your dresser and sending your make-up rolling over the top. And it only hits you now, far too late, that you were just staring at this guy wearing nothing but sleep shorts and a camisole. One that did absolutely nothing to conceal how hard your nipples were.

Jesus Christ—what were you thinking? Staring at this guy like some horned-up teenager?

What is wrong with you?

You yank the curtains closed and hide in your room until you're certain he's gone. And when Steve gets home from work, your hair is still wet from the cold shower you had to take when you couldn't stop imagining what it would be like if instead of mowing the lawn, that guy had come running upstairs to trim your hedges.

Seriously...what the fuck is wrong with you?

Then, a couple days later, the heat spikes to a truly oppressive degree. So you’ve got your suit on, and you’re dancing in the kitchen, stirring up something cool and sweet to sip by the pool, crushing fresh mint to add into the pitcher.

And you hear a splash. A big one.

Your head whips around to look out the window just in time to see that familiar head of dark curls bursting through the surface. He swings his head wildly like a dog, flipping his long hair out of his face before he dunks himself back under.

It's not panic that stops you in your tracks this time, but rage. Because what in the hell is the gardener doing swimming in your sister's pool?

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Your voice is commanding as you storm out onto the pool deck, but your cover-up isn't tied around your waist so it flies open behind you to reveal the shape of your body. And you can’t quite squash the prickle of shame you feel at the thought of this guy seeing all your cellulite up close.

He turns toward you, awfully smiley for someone who just got caught trespassing. And his eyes are bright as he looks you up and down, the rays of sun hitting them just right so his deep brown irises glow like the richest honey.

Nope, nope. You're not gonna be flustered this time. You're not, you're not, you're not—

"Just waiting for you, sweetheart,” he says.

His voice is too smooth for his own good, words dripping from his lips the way water drips from his bangs and runs down his handsome features.

You roll your eyes and feel your hands settle on cocked hips. It's a stance you often find yourself in, wishing it was more intimidating. An inherited trait, you guess, considering how your nephew would stand the exact same way sometimes.

"Since when does the gardener get swimming privileges?" you scoff, eyes narrowing.

He just glances around at the freshly mown lawn, grass looking lush despite the sweltering heat.

"Didn't I do a good job? Don't I deserve a reward?"

The sun beating down overhead would be easy to blame for the way your body gets hot all over just from the way he says it, his brow arching to drive home his meaning, as if you couldn't tell.

"Take that up with your boss when she's back on this side of the Atlantic. For now, you can take a hike before I call the cops.”

A plush pink lip juts out in an exaggerated pout, but he shrugs his shoulders in an admission of defeat. He plants his palms flat on the concrete, forgoing the ladder and the steps to lift himself out of the pool to stand directly in front of you.

Water spills off his pale shoulders, rivulets of it running down the planes of his back and body you have to purposefully tear your eyes away from. He's not even in a bathing suit, just the same pair of shredded black jeans cut off into shorts he mowed the lawn in just days prior.

He's still smirking as he takes one last, long look before he saunters away. And in spite of yourself, you glance over your shoulder to watch him as he goes, your eyes drawn to a tattoo of a broadsword that starts between his shoulders and runs down the full length of his spine, the tip of the blade ending just above the small of his back.

He pauses at the gate, smiling all sly when his eyes shoot back to you, clearly pleased to have caught you ogling him again—and fucking winks.

And he does leave, but now you’re all frustrated and flustered and too pent up to even attempt at relaxing now. So you give up on your swim and go to the store instead, the trip taking far longer than it should because you don't—or can't—stop yourself from thinking about this guy.

You’re certain he has to be messing with you. What else besides an ego boost would a young guy like him get out of flirting with someone like you? A divorcee a decade older than him? Please. He probably had his pick of the litter in a town as small as Hawkins. All dark and wild, mysterious and dangerous and…

God—why did he have to be so hot? It would be so much easier to ignore him if he weren't.

You finally get back home, cranky and tired and struggling under the weight of all your groceries. And when you push open the door and step into the foyer, you freeze in place again.

Because there he is. Splayed out on the couch, his knees spread wide, his long hair a little damp. Smiling at you all pleased with himself, like he’s been waiting for you. Cocky, even.

Like he planned it this way.

It all makes you gape, your mouth hanging open in total disbelief as you drop your bag at the door and draw your breath to snap at him.

"What are you—"

"Hey, you're home!"

Steve cuts you off as he strides into the living room, coming from the kitchen holding a couple of beers. He passes one to the guy on the couch, who's grinning like he ate a whole menagerie of canaries, and Steve nods in your direction.

"This is my aunt I was telling you about."

Those dark brown eyes rove freely over you now, no light shining in them this time as he smiles into the mouth of the bottle he's raising to his lips.

"Hey, there," he says, wiggling those long fingers at you all over again. "I'm Eddie."

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[s-lycopersicum]

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[verflares]

just how long is forever? // not long enough, with you

pssst. check this out on inprnt :]

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[brucie-baby]

the fact that alfred was the one to put up jason's memorial is so important to me

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[wanologic]

fortunately, or unfortunately, they only see each other like 3 times a year…

[anna-scribbles]

adrien in my outfit from a few days ago✨ feat. my claws out converse

bonus:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Who do you want FNAF to collab with?..

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

[unforth]

Gentle reminder that very little fandom labor is automated, because I think people forget that a lot.

That blog with a tagging system you love? A person curates those tags by hand.

That rec blog with a great organization scheme and pretty graphics? Someone designed and implemented that organization scheme and made those graphics.

That network that posts a cool variety of stuff? People track down all that variety and queue it by hand, and other people made all the individual pieces.

That post with umpteen links to helpful resources, and information about them? Someone gathered those links, researched the sources, wrote up the information about them.

That graphic about fandom statistics? Someone compiled those statistics, analyzed them, organized them, figured out a useful way to convey the information to others, and made the post.

That event that you think looks neat? Someone wrote the rules, created the blogs and Discords, designed the graphics, did their best to promo the event so it'd succeed.

None of this was done automatically. None of it just appears whole out of the internet ether.

I think everyone realizes that fic writing and fanart creation are work, and at least some folks have got it through their heads that gif creation and graphics and moodboards take effort, and meta is usually respected for the effort that goes into it, at least as far as I've seen, but I feel like a lot of people don't really get how much labor goes into curation, too.

If people are creating resources, curating content, organizing the creations of others, gathering information, and doing other fandom activities that aren't necessarily the direct action of creation, they're doing a lot of fandom labor, and it's often largely unrecognized.

Celebrate fan work!

To folks doing this kind of labor: I see you, and I thank you. You are the backbones of our fandoms and I love you.

[krysmcscience]

Call this the Whoopsie AU (it's barely an AU)

I mean. Narinder never explicitly SAID the Lamb would stay dead... :3c He probably should have been more specific. >:3c

Part Two:

Well. The Lamb tried, but...sorry, Nari, the crown hates you now. Shouldn't have been so quick to lend it out, I guess. :D

Aaaand Part Three:

'Isn't he just adorable?' -The Lamb, probably, while their followers smile and nod and internally scream at the brand new hellcat they now have to share living space with...

Anyway, nothing says 'Dead To Me' like following a person around to loudly remind them of how dead they are to you. Right? Right. Narinder's got this all figured out. <:]

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[jameszmaguire]

I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don't you?

[billpottsismygf]

Doctor Who: The Impossible Planet & The Satan Pit / The Legend of Ruby Sunday