#my reaction is always something along the lines of: well okay let me just preemptively make sure you and i don't interact ever again ???

[godbirdart]

i've been so used to the online space where if you like a series or fictional character that someone else hates they will openly berate you and cut you out of their life and tell you to Go Die so when i got into a thing that a friend really didn't like and their only reaction was "i do not like it" and left it at that with no over the top reaction or lecture on Why The Thing They Don't Like Is Bad, honestly i felt like i met god

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 5)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.

Section Word Count:  3,000

Section Warnings: fluff, angst, some R-rated language, Dean flirting/arousing/eating/breathing - the man needs his own warning label

~~~~~

Julie had done some reconnaissance before heading out her front door. She stared at Wes and Samuel’s backyard for some minutes prior. There was no sign of them. Samuel’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway. She figured she had a few minutes to take the walk around and past their corner house in safety. They wouldn’t assault her with questions about where she was off to, taking a stroll she never took in her neighborhood. And they wouldn’t ask what she had in that box she was holding so carefully.

This can’t end well, can it? Her thoughts of Dean were confused and irrational. She was going by pure feeling. And that hadn’t always proved the best course of action.

He’s too fucking gorgeous and too much of a flirt. Guys like that will usually sleep with anyone that tug at the bait. Her father had been that way. Handsome. Could have had his pick of any woman he wanted. And even though he’d one hell of a wife in her mother, he insisted on rutting with anything that came sniffing. Mom had finally had enough twenty years ago and divorced him. She would have taken him for everything she could, if he’d anything worth taking.

And, here she was, having just gone through an eerily similar situation with her now ex-husband… walking up the incline to Dean Winchester’s front door.

Maybe it’s genetic? I could blame this very bad idea on that. Tonight, that’s what I’ll do. She glanced around the side of the house she never saw up close. The cream-colored siding could use a power washing, but the front lawn was neat and tidy. Just like his backyard. There was no landscaping to speak of and the concrete driveway had seen better days. 

His Impala, seated on her throne yards away from the door, demanded the spotlight. The slick black paint shone more than usual. Julie wondered if he’d taken her through a car wash that day. Or maybe he’d washed her himself. Then, she thought about Dean wet and soapy, rubbing his body all over that car, hosing her down. Hose me down, Jesus. Her brain short circuited for a second.

I could turn around and head back. It’s not too late. I could just leave it on the step and text him when I get back home. The sky was turning a dusty pink with purple ribbons. 

No doorbell. The berry red front door teased and tested the outreached fingers of one hand as she balanced the dessert in the other.

She pulled her hand back. Eyes closed. Head tilted. There was a split second where she’d decided to leave. An immediate flash in her thoughts of Dean’s smiling face, those green eyes, those lips, overpowered her senses. She opened her eyes to the sound of her betraying knuckles as they rapped on the door.

You are not desperate. You are going after something you want.

She waited. Some time went by. An awkward amount of time.

Maybe it wasn’t loud enough. Maybe he’s in the shower. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe this really was a bad idea. Oh God, what if he has a woman over?

She turned and darted down the small landing and got halfway across the walkway when she heard him. “Julie?”

She pressed her lids together in embarrassment, took a quick breath, and prepared to face the music that was Dean Winchester.

Damn. He was even more tempting than the last time she’d seen him. Surprise overtook his exquisite features. A blank expression gazed at her, open and waiting. His lips parted. Grey sweatpants and a cadet blue Henley draped over his frame. But fabric still hugged taut muscles and beautiful curves. She tried to regain her focus and stared at the ground by his... Shit, and he’s barefoot. Even his feet are fucking perfect. His toes wiggled on the concrete. Just take me now, Dean. She sighed and, realizing no part of him would be unattractive or neutral territory, returned his inspection.

“Is everything okay?” He looked past her onto the street and did a quick survey of the area around him. She nodded. His brow furrowed and then his gaze landed on the box in her hands.

“I made a cake.” Her arms outstretched. It was the only motion she could think to make at the time. “Thought you might want a piece.”

“Oh.” A small smile danced over his mouth in a wave.

She retracted the box back to her chest. “I should have called first. Sorry.”

“No. It’s more than fine. I just…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve such special treatment.”

Have you looked at yourself? “Kind of selfishness on my part.”

He gave her that quizzical look again.

“Want to see how much you enjoy my dessert, up close and personal.” She quipped.

He licked his lips on instinct. “You’re giving me lots of opportunities to not behave myself with this mouth o’ mine.”

Jesus. “Is that a preemptive apology, or a promise?” She couldn’t help it. He brought out the flirt in her, full on. Her reaction was like a runaway train with no conductor at the controls.

His laugh was deep, sexy. “Come on in. I won’t apologize for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” He nudged the front door open with a bare foot and stuffed his hands into hidden pockets. A step back cleared the threshold.

She walked towards him. When she got closer to his figure, she had to look up to meet his gaze. Almost a foot taller, his presence made her feel small and vulnerable. The grin didn’t help to calm the sensations. He uses Irish Spring soap. She wiggled her nose at the clean, fresh out of the shower scent his skin exuded.

The house wasn’t much on the inside in terms of construction. But it possessed a style somewhere between mountain man and perpetual bachelor. All Dean. Dark paneled wood confirmed a 70s architectural build that had never been updated. The open living room and kitchen area felt smaller than it was because of the dim lighting. She squinted through her glasses. A floor lamp was on and near a muted, flat screen television atop a console table. Something was blowing up on the screen, flashing and illuminating the lived-in space. She stepped in farther. Her flats skimmed off a small area rug to tap onto wood laminate. Stale beer and spicy alcohol permeated the stagnant air in the room. She wondered again how much he drank on a regular basis. The front door click froze her in place.

He appeared at her side. “Let me.” His eager open hands waited. The box dropped into them. “Whoa. Heavy. What’d you make?” He strolled over to the breakfast bar along the edge of the kitchen. The broad shoulders got her all swoony. Bowlegs weren’t as obvious in the baggy sweatpants. The curvy ass, however, was quite prominent. He waited for an answer with an expectant look after placing the dessert on the counter.

“Oh. Just a white cake with chocolate frosting. Um, have you ever had a Tastykake Chocolate Junior?”

“More than likely.” He shrugged. “Convenience store grub was sustenance for many, many years.”

She filed that bit of information away for future dissection. “It’s a pretty spot on flavor recreation. They were my favorite growing up.”

“Should I slice it up then? See if it jogs my memory?”

She smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Make yourself comfortable.” He pointed to the living room. “Move whatever you need to.”

Even the couch is covered in plaid. An open bag of chips occupied a spot where she guessed he’d been sitting. A couple beer bottles were on the coffee table. Again.

She debated on whether to sit on the armchair or the tiny lumberjack couch. There were some books and papers on the chair. She plopped on the empty side of the two-seater. The chips were placed on the table after a careful bag fold over. 

Her body shifted, ancy and excited. Should she do the relaxed, one leg folded under the other? How far of a tilt in his general direction? Had she dressed up too much? She tugged at the low-neck paisley peasant top she’d thrown on with her dark jeans. A finger wiped at the corner of her mouth, reminding her of the shiny gloss applied before she left the house. A faint cherry flavor hit the tip of her tongue.

Her gaze wandered back to him while she continued her inner debate on the best position. He’d gotten out plates and rested a rather long knife on the counter. His fingers lifted the box lid. “Oh, man,” he mumbled to himself. He reached in and pulled out the cake, his focus never leaving the treat. Her eyes widened when he grabbed the knife and flipped it in his hands like a skilled warrior. The blade slid into the cake without hesitation. He repeated the action three more times and then served the slices. His brow lifted and he looked over to Julie. “A cake like this deserves milk, but I’m fresh out. Water do? Beer?”

“Um, water’s good.” She was still getting over the display he’d put on.

He nodded, grabbing two bottles from the fridge and wedging them between his arm and side. He strolled over with a plate in each hand and offered one to Julie. The waters dropped on the table.

“Wow. You don’t play around.” She laughed at the enormous pieces he’d doled out.

“I do not… at least when it comes to dessert.” He settled into the seat beside her, thighs splayed out, encroaching into her territory. He pointed at Julie with the tines of his fork. “And, if you can’t finish yours, I will.” He leaned back and brought the plate to perch at his midsection.

She scooted back, deciding a cross legged approach would have to do to avoid brushing against him. The cake plate rested on her lap. Her gaze traced his body from his very close knee all the way back to his face. “You don’t even know if you’ll like it yet.”

He scoffed. “Please.” His grin turned playful. Yes, I could definitely stare at this man for an indefinite amount of time. “Ready?” He inquired with a side glance.

Her cheeks rose along with the wide smile she returned him. “Ready.”

He cleared his throat in deference to the upcoming act. Julie pursed her lips together. His fork sank into the dessert. “I’ve got to get a decent amount of both cake and frosting for this to be a fair sample to judge.” He nodded and tilted the forkful in inspection. His jaw dropped like a nutcracker. He shoveled the mound of cake into his mouth and chewed. Eyes shut as the chews continued. There were no audible cues expressing enjoyment this time, compared to the meal they shared on the patio. The silence was gut wrenching, but Dean’s physical actions were making Julie’s mouth water. She wanted to dive on top of him and latch lips onto that pout. The man was legit dampening her panties. She squirmed in her cross-legged position.

His eyes bolted open and he swallowed. Dean cocked his head at her. “That… is… amazing.”

She stifled a giggle rising in her throat. “Yeah? Not just saying that cause I’m right here?”

His brow dipped down, looking a bit pained in his expression. “I’m a straight shooter.”

I bet.

He attacked the cake again. Julie tried it for herself to see if he was right. She nodded at her handiwork when the smooth chocolate frosting melted in her mouth. It hadn’t gotten grainy from over whipping.

“Thanks.” Dean came up for air after a single piece remained on his plate.

“Welcome.”

“So, is this your interrogation tactic? Getting me into a sugary-stupor so I answer all your burning questions?” He grinned at her.

She stopped in mid-chew and swallowed.

“Cause it’s a pretty good play.” His eyelids looked heavy as he finished the last piece. He tossed the plate onto the table and grabbed one of the beer bottles. He went with the one leg folded under the other position this time and shifted at her, full tilt.

She cleared her throat, feeling the heat of his gaze. A long swig of beer and smack of his lips warmed her cheeks. “I was just being neighborly.” She lifted a shoulder.

“Hm.” White light from the television danced over his face. His stare seemed chiseled out of marble in the strobing spotlight. “Coming over unannounced. And, considering you didn’t want me in your house… why’d you think I’d invite you in?” His jaw clenched after the question.

Shit. “I had cake.” It was half statement, half question.

“Secret weapon aside,” he mumbled, “chocolate frosting wouldn’t protect you from… well, you don’t know anything about me.” His eyes drew her in further, danger and searing intensity illuminated with each flash. 

“I’d like to know you,” she whispered back without thinking, inwardly cursing at the admission.

He gave her a small smile. “Might not like what you find. I’m much better if you take me in small doses.” His hand lifted. A flat palm, dangling the bottleneck between two fingers, slid in the air. “Deal with what’s on the surface. Digging deeper is usually a disappointment.” He drank again, then thumbed the bottle opening.

She sighed. “Well, I guess we just do the good neighbor thing and keep things civil, distant.”

He nodded. “Would be for the best.”

She dropped the plate onto the table. “Should I go then?”

He shook his head. “I like your company. Almost as sweet as that cake.”

“That’s all surface stuff.” She tested.

“Is it now?” He leaned in a little closer. His arm draped over the seat back. “Just proving my point.” A grin.

Julie held his gaze and inhaled. “Spill with some surface stuff, then. To appease my curiosity.”

“Okay.” The word dripped out of his mouth, slow, like honey. “I’m 43.” He waited.

Julie smiled. “Are you expecting me to tell you how old I am?”

“I’m not stupid enough to guess.”

Her hand wiggled a finger in the air. “Point for you.” But she chose not to answer.

The triumphant, pleased with himself smile returned. “Moved here a couple years back. Used to work with my brother. Now, I take care of business solo.”

She nodded. “I won’t ask what kind of business.”

“Thanks. That wouldn’t be a simple explanation.” Another sip of beer. “Uh,” he cleared his throat in thought, “I listen to classic rock… nothing else is real music, anyway.” He caught the rise of her eyebrow. “In my opinion, of course. Been all over the country. Driven through almost every state, even Alaska. I hate flying. Oh, and I love my Baby.”

“Your baby?” Her heart stopped.

“My car.” He clarified. A hint of nostalgia passed over his face. “Been to hell and back in her. She belonged to my Dad.”

“She’s a beauty. You take good care of her.” Julie didn’t push for more, marveling at the little chips in his exterior.

“Family’s important to you?” Dean asked.

It made her pause. “The ones that matter are. The ones that don’t give up on you, even when it would be easier to. Those people are important to me. Those are the ones I’m loyal to.”

The smile he produced held an air of… it took her a few seconds to identify it. Respect. 

“Thing is,” Dean whispered, “I think you’re a decent woman. And I consider myself a good judge of character.” His eyes peeked down to her chest for a brief instant. “And, if I do what I want to right now… well, that might make the whole neighbor thing awkward. I can be an ass,” he licked his lips, “after.”

“After what?” Nervous energy caused her fingers to fiddle with her eyeglasses.

His knees brushed against her thigh. Warm fingers skimmed up her forearm. Her breath hitched. His hand traveled up over her shoulder and swept the ends of her brown hair to rest on her back. A thumb dipped into the hollow past her clavicle. He skirted under the collar of her shirt, not asking permission. Not needing to. The thick pads of his fingers massaged the skin. His eyes never left her face. “After.” He repeated.  

Charges of electricity pulsed and awakened the cells in her body. Thighs squeezed together while her mouth opened, struggling to make heads or tails of what would be the best course of action. “Being an ass would mean no more dessert.”

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “It would.” His fingers retreated from her skin. “Shouldn’t risk it, then.”

They sat in silence for a minute, the moment gone and the space now awkward. Once she felt her heart rate return to a normal beat, she clapped her hands softly on her knees. “Well, I’m going to go. Keep the cake.” She rose. “Figure out how much you want to keep.” She stared down at the confused look on his face. “And bring me the rest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“When you come by to mow my lawn.”

He smiled. “Still want me to?”

“Of course.”

“Okay then.” Even though she hurried, expecting to beat him to the door, he managed to get there first again. “Still wanna get to know me?”

She nodded. “I’ve got lots of time.”

He sighed. “I might not be that patient.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy. For either of us.” She let herself out and stepped into the dusk.

“Julie.” He called out. She turned to take in that perfect figure in the doorway. “Let me walk you back.”

“I’m just around the corner.”

“Just let me.” He raised a finger, dashing away for a few seconds, and returned wearing slippers. A quick lock of the door and he slid down the walk to join her.

She shook her head in protest. “You really don’t have to.”

“Too late.” He slowed his pace and strolled with her in the night. The neighborhood only had a few streetlights scattered throughout. They were flickering in that fickle in between before true night enveloped the area. Their short walk was in the shadows of trees and Wes and Samuel’s house.

“Who’s going to walk you back?” she quipped.

“I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t see his face well but sensed a smirk. His slippers shuffled on the asphalt.

When they rounded the corner and her house was in sight, she raised a hand. “There. You can watch me from here.”

“Uh-uh. To the door.” He trudged up the hill.

“You’re quite chivalrous for an apparent ass.”

He chuckled. “I do try sometimes.”

The rest of the walk was in silence, side by side, until Julie took the lead up the narrow concrete path. She bounced up the two steps to the square slab that was her tiny porchway and turned back. It was quick enough to catch that he’d been admiring her ass as he stood on the path by the bottom step.

She was thankful he couldn’t see the blush she felt creeping up on her cheeks. “Well, good deed done.”

His hands plunged into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded. And waited.

She sighed and pulled out the key to unlock her door. “Are you worried I’m going to get attacked by a monster hiding in the bushes?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

The door acquiesced and Julie stepped inside. “Satisfied.”

“I will be when you lock the door behind you.”

She shook her head and whispered through the narrowing gap. “Night, Dean.”

“Good Night, Julie.”

Part 6

Series Page

[palpablenotion]

How to Avoid Spoilers and Spoiler Etiquette for Tagging

Did you miss this weeks episode? Have you missed this season’s episodes in general? But you still intend to watch it and don’t want spoilers?

There are a few things you can do. Most of them means you need something like Tumblr Savior or XKIT. Basically none of this works on mobile. 

1- Blacklist the show.

This seems obvious but a lot of people still need to be told to do this. I sometimes will get angry that someone posted something without tagg- ... oh look I forgot to blacklist this tag, nevermind my bad. Seriously. Did it just last night. I was about to be pissed when I realized that the post was tagged. I, for some reason, hadn’t bothered to tag for the show nor the show’s spoiler tags.

Get preemptive with this shit. Most people are reactionary with their tagging. I blacklisted this show because something already got spoiled, but I should have known to blacklist it before.

If you’re just a week behind, you can just blacklist the spoiler tags. For instance, I have “supernatural spoilers” and “spn spoilers” blacklisted all the time, unless I’m 100% up to date and usually the season needs to be over. Right now I’m a season behind so I have “supernatural” and “spn” also blacklisted.

2 - Blacklist your main ships/fav characters.

If you’re like me, you probably end up following a bunch of people that either post exclusively about the show, your ship, or your character, or they at least post some good content along those lines. Well, just to be safe, especially if you don’t want spoilers for those ships/characters specifically, blacklist them until you catch up. 

Unfortunately, a lot of people think tagging ships or characters is mutually exclusive from tagging the show. Back to my supernatural example: I follow someone that posts a lot of destiel, but they don’t always tag destiel posts as “spn” or “supernatural.” They do almost always tag those posts as “destiel,” however. So the ship gets blacklisted.

There is also this notion being pushed in a lot of corners of fandom that you shouldn’t tag a ship or character, especially if they’re very, very popular, with the media name because it “floods” the tag. That’s bullshit. A huge reason to tag is to allow for blacklisting. At the very least, tag it with the spoiler tags. This keeps it out of the main show tag (kind of, not really, tumblr is garbage) but still makes it easy to blacklist with one or two tags, instead of needing tags for each character and ship.

3 - Unfollow people.

This is one that works on mobile. It’s also the least favorite one. Some people try to tag for spoilers. Some people just keep forgetting to tag when, for instance, they live blog. Or they’re reblogging and they don’t tag anything. Maybe their on mobile and can’t be bothered to tag/tag “excessively.” Maybe they don’t give a fuck.

I used to follow a lot of people that seemed to have zero regard for other people when it came to spoilers. A huge reveal from the flash was spoiled by some jackass (read: really nice person who didn’t think before posting) that saw gifs of the reveal, felt strong emotions from the reveal, and reblogged without a single fucking tag. At the time, I had everything blacklisted. “the flash,” “the flash spoilers,” “flash,” “flash spoilers,” several ships, a few characters (including the character the reveal was about). But all the blacklisting in the world won’t help if they don’t fucking tag it...

4 - Blacklist the blog.

... unless you blacklist the blog itself.

Sometimes you don’t want to unfollow. Sometimes, you’re emotionally attached to the blog or you want it there for when you catch up. But they don’t tag. They never tag. I follow several blogs that are predominantly shadowhunters material. And let me tell you, very few actually tag the show “shadowhunters.” They don’t tag “malec,” they don’t tag “sh spoilers,” they don’t tag “sh cast.” Which is sooooooooooooo frustrating.

Some blogs have said they don’t need to tag because you’re following them and you should know that’s all they post. I followed a coldflash blog that refused to tag coldflash for just that reason. However, a general trend, when blogs refuse to tag because everything would be tagged that way... they tend not to tag anything actively useful. In my experience, these blogs are less likely to tag for triggers, very rarely tag spoilers, don’t tag for cast posts... If they’re a gen blog, some tag for ships and characters, but if they’re a ship blog, that’s unlikely.

So if you follow a blog that doesn’t respect spoiler rules of etiquette, blacklist them. You aren’t unfollowing them, they’ll be there when you’re ready, but you can now control your experience with them, where previously you were unable to.

NOTE: This can work in other areas too. Is a blog taking a turn in tone? Maybe blacklist them for a while and see if it reverts back later. Is the blogger going through something that makes a lot of their posts upset you? It’s okay to blacklist them and cut yourself off from that, you don’t owe them anything. Do you really like the blogger but suddenly their posts, which you’ve always enjoyed before, are weighing on you or pulling you down? Blacklist them for now. That’s okay.

5 - Take a step back from tumblr.

This also works for mobile /s. I’ve taken a step back from tumblr for a lot of reasons. I left the site for about 6-8 months a year or so ago, because I was becoming obsessed with needing to see every post on my dash. I’ve gone off for a week or so because I got pissed off at spoilers. And sometimes, when I know there’s going to be a lot of content that everyone’s talking about and I can’t avoid, I’ll bunker down. 

Bunker down, in this case, refers to remaining on the site but only accessing your own activity page. You can see who interacts with you, directly, but you don’t have to see what everyone is saying independent of your posts. This can be a preemptive form of control on your experience.*

This is sort of like the “abstinence” form of avoiding spoilers, with bunkering down being sort of like the 2nd base of fandom interaction.

You can still message people and reply to asks, with this tactic. The goal is to stay off your dash and out of browsing. Control your input by just interacting with reactions to your posts or direct conversations with bloggers.

* Note: This can work really well if you are being overwhelmed by a trend on your dash/the site, as well. If you’re following discourse blogs, for instance. Sometimes things get to heavy and bunkering down can allow you to temporarily escape that and still feel like you’re involved.

If anyone has any other suggestions, please feel free to message me or send in an ask.

Now let’s get into spoiler etiquette. Here are some suggestions for keeping your blog free of spoilers and making it a safe place for fans that miss episodes.

1 - TAG YOUR POSTS!

I know this seems obvious but I like to think I already demonstrated how blogs fail to tag. If you are a shipper that keeps tagging the ship and not the show, tag the show. Especially if you post during/immediately after new episodes. Your ship might be what the post is about but there can be spoilers for unrelated matters included. The same goes for character posts.

If you’re a blog that is 100% show/character/ship, still, TAG YOUR POSTS. Does it get tedious tagging every post if you’re posting a lot? Sure. But still do it. If you don’t care about the spoiler thing (kind of douchey but whatever), do it for the spreading of your blog, as your posts will not be included in tag searches.

If it’s simply that you don’t feel like tagging every post, get Auto-tagger on XKIT (I don’t know if there are similar features on other extensions). Auto-tagger let’s you set up words/phrases to always tag with. You can control this based on post type, where the post originated, etc. I use this feature to keep the tags from the person I’m reblogging it from - I can erase their specific, commenting tags and keep their pertinent ones without having to type it all in. If you’re a blog that ONLY posts malec, for instance, set it up to tag malec on every post (and “shadowhunters” or “sh”).

If you’re a live blogger, set it up before the episode to tag all your posts with the spoiler tags. Or give your live blogging a specific tag and warn your followers. Be consistent week to week so your followers can block a single tag. Remember that your followers see your last post before the earlier ones, so it’s easy to miss the post where you say what your tag is. Make it well known.

2 - Put things under cuts.

When a huge reveal happens, consider putting posts related to that under a cut, at the very least the night of the airing. This is also considerate of mobile users. If your follower is then curious and opens the post, it’s their own damn fault that it’s been spoiled.

This can also prevent your loyal followers from spoiling things as well. That huge flash spoiler I discussed from earlier? That was from a misc blog. Someone’s personal tumblr that they posted all their fandom shit on, their life stories, their selfies and interesting bugs they found walking to work, etc. They just jump the gun on posting and are inconsistent with tagging, particularly in the frenzy of postings and reblogging after a new episode. Had the big reveal been under a cut, I wouldn’t have cared that they reblogged without tags. I wouldn’t have clicked the keep reading.

3 - Get XKIT.

In case you brushed off #1, because you don’t tag your shit and you don’t want to tag every fucking post, let me be clear.

You can get a plugin on XKIT that auto tags all your posts. All of them. You don’t do anything. You can set it to tag all your picture posts as “pics,” you can set it to tag all your reblogs as “not my shit,” you can set it to tag your posts with the blog names you reblogged from. Whatever. You can do near anything with it.

Not wanting to tag because “it’s too much work” is you being willfully ignorant that actually it doesn’t have to be.

4 - Tag *in* post.

A lot of people complain that they’re mobile users and so tagging is a lot of work and also they can’t get XKIT, blah blah blah.

Well blacklisting works for shit in the posts too. So hit that post with a taglist at the end: “sh, sh spoilers, shadowhunters, shadowhunters spoilers, liveblogging,” whatever. If you’re posting a lot, copy the tags you should be using. It’ll save you time and it’s not difficult.

5 - Don’t tag with JUST the word “spoiler(s).”

This one always gets me. A blog tries to be courteous. Maybe not all their followers have seen the new episode. So they tag it. But they tag it as “spoiler.”

...

That doesn’t do me any good. If I blacklisted the word “spoiler(s),” then I’d be blacklisting every single post that might be a spoiler. If I specifically don’t want to see spoilers for teen wolf, so I blacklist the term “spoiler” itself, now I don’t get most of the posts about the dceu. About mcu and infinity war. About other shows/movies/books just coming out. About meta specifically about the nature of spoilers (like this).

When something is blacklisted, you can choose to still see posts on a case by case basis, but if they’re just wrapped up in a “spoiler” ribbon, how will I know if it’s one of the safe spoilers (i.e., not specifically the show I was targeting with my blacklist) or the actual spoilers?

If you’re going to tag, thank you. Seriously. Thank you. But please, tag specifically.

6 - Don’t use ambiguous tags/tags used for other things.

Speaking of specific tagging, hey, be specific. Actually make sure your short hand can’t be confused with something else/is used only (or nearly exclusively) by your show.

If you did a search on tumblr right now for “spn,” nearly every post and blog is about the cw show supernatural. However, let’s look at teen wolf and game of thrones.

The traditional shorthand for game of thrones is “got.” See a problem? If I blacklist “got” then I blacklist everything that uses those three letters/that word. Someone says, “I just got the new pokemon!” ... blacklisted. 

Then you have teen wolf, which gets referred to as “tw” a lot in conversation. Understandable. However “tw” IS NOT a good tag for tagging the show. I just did a tumblr search on “tw” as a tag. While all of the “related” tags were from the show, of the first six featured blogs, one was about the show teen wolf. Two were about eating disorders, one was about self harm, one was an asian porn blog, and one was actually a supernatural trigger blog. Because supernatural is always relevant.

A good chunk of the posts seem to be about teen wolf. A good chunk are also about eating disorders and self harm. This is because, while “tw” is technically the initials of the show, it is predominantly used on this site to refer to “trigger warnings.” If I blow “tw” then I am blocking absolutely every post marked “tw” for trigger purposes (tw self harm, tw food, tw incest, etc). If I want to block that trigger, I will. There are a lot of triggers that don’t bother me and it’d be annoying having them blocked.

Recently over at @autism-asks we had to switch our referencing and tagging of “special interests” from “si” to “spin.” This is because “si” is widely already used to refer to and tag “self injury.” We want people to be able to tag for what’s relevant to their needs, so we adjusted accordingly and asked our followers to do the same.

So before using short hand, maybe do a tumblr search. It works best if it’s without blocking explicit content. If you decide, for instance, you wish to tag posts about “billy joel” as “bj”... well, you might be surprised at what that actually encompasses on tumblr. There might be words you aren’t familiar with, multiple acronyms might exist, or other communities might already have adopted that tag. “st” can stand for either star trek, stranger things, or numerous other things (I found star wars posts, photography, steven universe, spirit tracks, and porn because there’s always porn).

If you insist on using an abbreviation, consider using a modifier. “tw mtv” or “tw tv” for instance. The flash fandom often tags things “flash cw” and most (considerate) sherlock fans use “bbc sherlock.” This prevents posts about something like adobe flash, flash fic, flash big bangs, etc from being blocked, or from other shows with characters of the same name (sherlock from elementary or the rdj sherlock movies or the original books) from being blocked when you’re only trying to block a single show.

Probably the most effective thing, though, is something only @staff can do. So tumblr @staff, maybe work blacklists into the site itself so everyone can use it. So that blacklists can be tied to the account itself. You know how useless ns/fw tags are if you’re actually using mobile, a public computer, a work computer? I can’t implement XKIT on every public computer I use. The block feature is great, it is, but blacklisting isn’t the same as blocking. Most users don’t want to block every blog they might need to blacklist tags for. So please work that into the site.

[jovial-insanity-blog]

Gravitational Pulls // Min Yoongi

Warnings: Language, Fluff overdose

A/N: So this is a Suga/Min Yoongi/Agust D reader insert fic, but I never actually mentioned his name anywhere in there (oops) so I figured I would clarify that before hand. Okay, you may continue my dears.

•••

The air is light tonight. Wind caressing exposed cheeks with chilled fingers, stars begining to sprinkle their dreamy light over the city park. Eyes glisten with the reflection of night lights. The moon, not out in its full glory yet, but it’s eerie glow leaking through the cloud cover enough to reveal itself. Stunning, as always, is the night sky. Just as stunning, perhaps, as what occurs beneath.

…………………………

“Isn’t it fascinating?” a feminine figure thinks aloud, a broad, crooked smile glistening pure white in the surrounding darkness. Her company raises an eyebrow, curious at the path his friends mind is wandering. “Isn’t what fascinating?” he ventures casually, continuing to stare at the dotted sky.

The girl sighs, leans back into the arm around her shoulders. It’s pleasant, the gentle presence of another persons warmth to chase away the nights chill, and she hums lightly before responding with a gentle, “The way that… everything that could be crashing down on us from up there, is suspended by something that, really, we can’t even see.”

A gentle smile comes to the man’s face at the words, hood slipping off as he turns to the young woman at his side. Of course that’s what she came up with, he smirks to himself, staring admiringly at the top of her head. Shes always coming up with nonsense like that, blowing his mind time and time again with how intensely philosophical she can be. “..How.” he voices aloud, though it was meant to be more of a thought. She backs off slightly in order to face him properly, confusion written on her pretty features. For a moment, he mourns the warmth that seeps away with her movement. The safety of another human by his side, comforting and gentle and reassuring in the semi-daekness. Though its lack of presence is disapointing, he also cant help but take another precious moment to admire her unintentional beauty. Moonlight now uncloaked coating her bare face in a pale glow as her brow creases, head tilting ever-so-slightly to the left, just like it always does when shes unsure of something. He could gaze at her for hours, if only she would allow him.

“How… , what?” she questions quietly, taking in his features just as he does hers, making sure to note the small smirk lingering like it always does after he smiles, and the flicker of passing emotions working behind his eyes that she so adored being able to decipher.

He chuckles to himself, shaking his head with sudden bashfulness that makes his ears go red from more than just the chill, “How do you do that?”

The creases on her brow increase in depth, revealing the lasting confusion to the man quietly obsessing over the way her lips press themselves into a harsh line that starkly contrasts with the small wrinkles appearing on her nose. Curse whatever the hell made her so cute, seriously. Did they want to ruin his ability to concentrate? Because if so, congratulations to them. It worked..

“Er, you’re gonna have to be a bit more precise with that one snowflake.” is her returning quip. He wrinkles his nose. “Do what?”

She suppresses a giggle at his reaction to the nickname, knowing he likes the term - though he insists he despises upon its childish nature. He tends to be like that about a lot of things, she’s noticed over the years; but she can, and has always been able to, see through the protective shield he’s made around himself. And he does, and always has done, the same for her.

“I thought I said not to call me that, ya prick.” he retorts, lightly smacking her shoulder as she laughs. “But seriously, how do you do it? Look at something and just BAM,” he attempts a (rather poor) impression of an explosion, “profound message, just from staring into space - quite literally. ”

“Was that pun intended.” is her immediate reaction, still laughing light heartedly as his cheeks begin to blush, hard. He chuckles along with her, messing idly with one of the cords on his hoodie, “Uhm, no, actually - for once.”

They both sit without conversation for a while, just letting their laughter gradually fall and rise again with the fluctuating eye contact until they finally, finally get a grip on themselves.

“I don’t know, by the way.” the girl whispers, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the atmosphere, “how I do that, I mean. It just kind of…, comes to me, I guess. For whatever reason.” she chuckles nervously, gesturing randomly into thin air. “But, hey, you know what that reminded me of?”

Humming, he realizes that she’s leaning her head on his shoulder again. Suddenly - and deffinitely unrelated to any other preemptive thought whatsoever - his head is, without explination, over her own. It takes a second for his eyes to slip closed, but they do. And when they do, he relaxes. He breathes in. And is in turn overwhelmed by fatigue, and the scent of vanilla shampoo.

“It.. reminds me, of something." She whispers.

"Mm?"

"It - it reminds me of love.”

..Oh. And, he’s wide awake again. “Huh?”

“Love,” she repeats, lightly nestling her head into his chest. “How even though the world can be crashing down on someone, love can keep them suspended just enough as to not let their entire galaxy implode. ”

As the words float around in his brain, he realizes just how right she is, and just how whipped he really is for one of his best friends. How well she keeps him suspended, comforting in times of near implosion and encouraging even when everything was aligned. And she knew - she knew exactly where she was directing that little realization the moment she thought it, having known for a good while now that he was her oxygen in a universe lacking of air. She knew this, yet made no moves in particular to advance in any way. She loved him, carried him not close to her heart but inside of it, and he felt the same, though she was yet unaware.

And she anxiously awaits his reply, not knowing just how bloody hard that statement just hit him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had a concussion if he was honest, brain whirring around the words tumbling like waves over and over again in his mind until, not thinking, he mumbles out a small, quiet, “You keep me suspended.” and immediately sticks his face in her hair, terrified of her reaction. She’s his best friend, he might have just completely ruined their friendship, fuck why did he do that​ how stupid could he g-

“You keep me suspended, too. ” Oh. Well that wasn’t… quite what he was expecting. She smiles into his side just as he smiles into her hair, squeezing her shoulders - just because he can.

“That was, by far, the cheesiest thing I’ve ever taken part in. ” he laughs, earning a slap to the chest (even though she’s laughing too).

“Shut up, you love me. Jerk. ”

And he does. He really, really does.

–

It’s two days and five hours later (neither of them were counting, shut up Tae) when they’re in the same positions, but this time on the couch in the dorm, watching some cliche ‘scary movie’ with the Maknae’s and Jin because they were concerned about how much the two of them spent in their rooms or just not generally socializing. In all honesty, neither of them minded. They got to spend time together for the first time since they walked home from that midnight confession two and a half days ago, and even though the movie wasn’t the best, they enjoyed it. [You guys didn’t even watch it! You just cuddled on the couch and made our stomachs sick with your cuteness] Taehyung shut up. [It’s true and you know it!] Yeah, yeah, okay. So it was nice, besides the fact the movie was trash. They got to actually be close - more so than their usual platonic half-cuddles [was it really ever platonic though? OKAY OKAY LEAVING SORRY BYE DON'T KILL ME]. Yes, it was platonic before. But, now, it wasn’t. And it was probably supposed to be a little awkward at first, because maybe this.. changes things. Maybe it was different now that there were titles, and comitment. But… it wasn’t. It was natural, their bodies molding against each other, worn t-shirts and sweat pants and shorts and a kinda small tank top surrounding them in a sea of fabric and comfort as she placed her head beside his and he wrapped his arm around her waist. And finally, their universes came together, and they became each other’s gravity.

•••

Hello! Admin Bre here - this is my first post on here and I’ve done it on my phone, so apologies if the format or anything is weird (please tell me if it is and I’ll try to fix it asap)! Hopefully you enjoyed the massive fluff ball I’ve created - this isn’t my writing at its best, so I’m a little hesitant about posting, but I’m doing it anyways because screw it. Might as well XD so, yeah. (I’ve done some editing now, so its slightly less shit :) ) If you have any criticism or comments or suggestions on what I should do next, go ahead an leave me an ask and I’ll answer as soon as I remember to! Byeeeeeeeee

[initiala]

Dark Horse - Chapter 21 - COMMENTARY (3/3)

Last part of @yayimallamaagain’s request for commentary!

They agree to meet on Sunday. There's a park in town he's never been to, a bench near a lake, and as he walks up the path he sees Emma pacing. She's on the phone, her hair spilling out from under a blue beanie, the rest of her bundled up in a puffy coat and jeans. It makes him smile, watching the little hops in her step as she walks - trying to keep warm no doubt. As he gets closer he can hear her end of the conversation. "-no, it'll be fine. I appreciate the offer, but I've got a place lined up." She pauses. "Yeah, Airbnb, it's fine. If it's not fine, I'll take you up on a place to crash."

Emma in her lil beanies is always a delight.

Killian clears his throat, just loud enough to alert her of his presence. She glances his way briefly, then says, "Hey, I've gotta run. Have those guys in shape for me when I get there alright?" She laughs at something the other person says. "I'm serious, I don't want to spend half my time retraining people. See you in a few weeks."

She slips her phone back into her pocket, trading it for her gloves. "Tying up a few things," she says as she works her hands into her gloves.

He feels parched, though it's only been a few minutes since he's walked here from his truck. "Y-you're leaving, then?"

He shouldn't be surprised at such a thing - from things she's said, she's grown quite used to picking up and moving along every few months. He knows the life, understands it. Hell, he even longs for it some days. He spent most of the last several years more or less constantly moving, trying to find a place where he fit, trying to find home. Storybrooke - the Horn - hadn't always been intended as a long-term plan, but more and more he's found himself accustomed to it: being his own boss certainly comes with benefits, as do these new partnerships he's finding himself in. He likes the town, likes most of the people he comes across.

FINDING HOME!!!! Another big theme of this story is finding your home, and definitely part of Emma and Killian’s definition of home is where each other is. Though they’re not quite realizing that yet.

The longer he stays, the more he's sure he's not going to leave anytime soon.

But if Emma leaves…

Okay, Killian’s realizing it, Emma’s not.

He schools his features, annoyed with himself for the thought. If she leaves, she leaves. Tink had had the right of it the other day, it's not his business what Emma gets up to. He's making his own life here; the level of civility and involvement they have in each other's lives moving forward will be sorted today.

She's blinking at him, her eyes searching his as she puzzles out his words. "I'm doing a favor for a friend," she says finally. "They need someone for a few weeks at Aqueduct in January."

When I started this story, I had a set timeline. I knew this story would take place over most of the year and there would be big milestones to hit, and it was kind of poetic in that these things happened around the changing of the seasons. They met and started this lil’ dalliance in the spring, had a happy summer, big shakeup/breakup in the fall, and then they’d be back together at the start of the New Year. But something I always appreciate in fics is the notion that even after the story ends, life goes on for these characters. Here, while the majority of the story is wrapped up at the beginning of January, Emma’s still making plans to freelance and keep working after my set timeline ends. Later, Killian talks about his plans for winter and spring races. It’s little details that I like.

Despite his reaffirmations, there's an anxious knot in his chest that eases. "Ah. Apologies for assuming -"

"No, it's - I need the money," she says, going to take a seat on the bench. "And I'm probably going to be a little stir-crazy by then, though the timing could be better."

He gestures towards the empty spot next to her and she nods her permission to sit. He wonders after her timing comment for a moment before it hits him - Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, but his brains truly have been addled. "And how is Mary Margaret?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Emma smile a bit. "She's good. She says the last few months are the best and she looks it."

Hilariously, when I made Emma pregnant in a later fic in this universe, she hated the last few months. I completely forgot about this line.

"Good. She looked well when I last saw her, but we didn't chat."

It's easy, Killian realizes with a start. Talking to her is easy and some part of him feels like it shouldn't be - so many words between them, so much time since their last proper conversation, and certainly their last conversation had been confrontational. But then, he supposes, Emma's the one who contacted him, so she's trying to set the pace. The last time they properly spoke, her walls were sky-high again, her armor double-layered; she'd lashed out to protect herself, he understood that now - disliked it, but understood.

Dang, I started on about Emma’s armor in this story long before they got to it in canon. Everyone kept talking about walls because that was what was in the show, but I liked the idea of armor more than walls. And then we had Killian telling her not to put her armor back on because she was losing him and brb sobbing

It wasn't as if he didn't deserve it. If she's being vulnerable now, it's a kindness he's done nothing to deserve.

They watch late-falling leaves drift across the lake. There's ice slowly starting to creep inwards from the edges of the lake, but it hasn't been so cold as to freeze over entirely just yet. Emma hunches in on herself as a cold breeze gusts through. "I -" she starts, "I wanted - I felt like I should - I'm sorry." She says the last bit in a rush and Killian turns to look at her as she sets her mouth in a determined line. "I'm sorry," she says, slower and more clearly this time. "I walked out - I left when I should have stayed. I left a few times."

He senses she's not finished, just at a loss for how to word what she wants to say. He waits, leaning forward and bracing himself on his legs with his elbows. She lifts one corner of her mouth, her own eyes on her hands as she picks at the pilling on her gloves. "I lost my head when Henry got hurt, but something - something snapped when you…"

"Threw myself in front of a panicky, six hundred-kilo animal like an eejit to protect you," he finishes quietly.

"Yeah, that."

Her eyes close now, her lashes dark against the apples of her cheeks. She's pink from embarrassment or from the cold, he's not sure which. He notes the way her shoulders curve inward as if she's trying to preemptively shield herself from any harsh words he could throw at her, and his heart aches. He did that. He'd pushed her away, jabbed at her with his cruelty when he should have been willing to talk about what had happened. He'd taken advantage of her vulnerability, too wrapped up in his own misery to notice that perhaps she was hurting too and wasn't able to express it properly. "I was a right bastard to you," Killian says, watching her for some sort of reaction. "Apologizing doesn't begin to express how truly sorry I am for the things I said that day."

She huffs, steam blooming in front of her face as she grins briefly. "Well, it's a start."

He hesitates for a moment, then reaches over to cover her hands with his. Her eyes fly open, looking at their hands and then up to his face. "Emma," he says softly. He tries to remember how Tink had phrased it, how to deal with them: drunk words are sober thoughts left to fester too long. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved that morning. I'm sorry for… I'm sorry that I let things build up too much, that I spoke out of anger."

Her expression is guarded, but her eyes are wide and wary. "Did you mean any of it?" she asks.

Killian's eyes drop as he pulls his hand away. "Anything I said had its roots somewhere," he admits. He chews on the inside of his lip a bit. "Bloody hell this is difficult," he mutters and she chuckles in a dry way that says she's in agreement. "I had some issues, some unhappiness in how things were between us. But I should have taken them up with you earlier, discussed things rationally. I should have been brave enough - felt secure enough in how things stood between us to discuss them. But I wasn't, and perhaps that's an issue in and of itself."

He sees her nod out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah." It comes out as a whisper, followed by a lengthy pause. Then, "Killian, I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

A lot of people were upset this conversation didn’t happen earlier, but it never felt right. Well, what I should say is that when I was writing their big fight a few chapters earlier, I wrote a much tamer version, one that probably encompassed a lot of this. But when it came time to beta, something didn’t feel right. Then Tina said, and I agreed, that if the intent of it was to make them break up for months at a time, then I needed to go all out on it. So I did. Because otherwise it wouldn’t make them grow up. Conflict makes characters grow, and at that point in who they were, no growth would have come out of it. They needed to spend these weeks apart and heal to be able to have this conversation. Attraction only makes up a part of a relationship.

His gut wants to forgive her, knows it's a big step for her to be able to admit as much. But he needs a little more, he knows that now. "Emma, I meant it when I told you I loved you."

"But you don't anymore," she says, and the lack of doubt or questioning in her voice nearly breaks him. That she believes someone can throw her away so quickly pains him more than anything else.

He shakes his head. "That's not it. I still do, however I… I am a broken man, Emma. The last few weeks have proven that to me. I can't control myself, I can't handle the reality that's thrown at me. I drank myself into a stupor because I thought I lost you - because I lost Liam."

She stares, he can tell she's staring, but she doesn't ask what he means. Instead, she says, "Killian, you aren't broken."

There's enough conviction there that he almost believes her. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a wry smile. "Aye, the mass of metal in me mouth says otherwise," he says sardonically. "And that I drank myself into a stupor because I can't hear my brother's voice anymore - tell me, lass, does that sound like a sane man to you?" She reaches for his hand; he tries not to flinch at her touch. "Couldn't stop my brother's murder, my fault my girlfriend was killed, not good enough for you to stay. Everyone I love leaves. But perhaps it's for the best. You deserve better than me, lass. You deserve someone whole."

I saved that tamer conversation, still have it in my Google drive somewhere. I pulled this stuff from there, because I liked it – it just didn’t fit at the time. They needed to earn the conversation.

She recoils a bit and he is colder without her touch. She closes her eyes. "You're not broken," she repeats. "You miss your brother, your - your girlfriend, because they died in a horrible way and you couldn't do a damn thing about it. That's pretty normal. And I can say that because I've been unlovable most of my life." Her voice breaks and his heart breaks with it. She wipes her nose on the back of her glove. "I got passed around - no, I got kicked out of more foster homes than I could count by the time I was fifteen and they just gave up on me. No one wanted me, no one loved me, so they stuck me in a group home for a month. David took me home after school one day, his mom was so horrified about my whole situation that she kept me."

Emma takes a breath and he can hear the waver, the shake that betrays how much she's holding back. He looks up at her as she looks back towards the lake. "David's dad died because of me - or, I thought he did, but I guess he died trying to protect me," she confesses. "So it's still kind of my fault, even if he was drunk at the time. He got kicked in the head by one of our horses during a storm, died pretty much right then and there in front of me. His heart and lungs just kept going a while longer."

All of the air leaves his lungs in a rush as the pieces come together: why she left the hospital, her reluctance to approach him later. It wasn't that she didn't love him, that she didn't care for him - it's that she'd lived this story already. She knew how it ended. And she'd been frightened, wanted to protect herself from being hurt all over again.

She had her reasons. He just hadn't bothered to find out what they were.

See this is what I mean when it was interesting to watch the woobiefication of Killian happen in real time. There is always a reason for why a character acts a certain way, you just have to be willing to stick it out and find out what that reason is. Emma’s reasons for her behavior are valid for her story.

She wipes her nose with the back of her glove again. "James died because of me, and then Neal happened not long after that. You know the rest. Well, there was this guy Walsh, he was using me to cheat on his wife, but that's not quite as telling as the rest. So out of the two of us, you're the least broken." Emma glances up at him, her expression somber. Jesus, Mary and Joseph but she's been dealt a rough hand in life. He knows that if he said as much, or gave any significant attention to it, she'd shrug him off. Emma takes a deep breath. "But that's not all of it. I opened that letter."

He watches her expression change ever so slightly as she explains about the letter Belle had wanted her to read. He sees the anger as she recounts the contents, the anxious pinch in her lips as she talks about going to the prison on Thursday - that explains the inebriated phone call, then. He doesn't blame her for that. He sees the anger turn to fury as she tries to keep her voice level when she tells him about Gold.

He doesn't say that he already knew most of this. He doesn't say that Belle had come to him with her own fears of the situation, her own confusion and lack of direction about it all. He doesn't say that he'd done nothing with the information, because what could he have done? He's furious with Robert Gold, but at the end of the day Henry's not his boy and Gold's his employer - he's in as much a bind as the lad.

To detract from this a bit, I really love that this story gave me a chance to develop the friendship between Belle and Killian. It happens a lot more later, but planting little seedlings and helping it grow was one of my very favorite non-CS-relationship things in this universe.

He thinks she might notice when he relaxes at the news that Regina has a plan for moving forward. She doesn't fully know what it is - Regina's taking it as a legal matter and he believes they both trust her judgement there - but the news will allow him to sleep a bit better. "Truly, I'm surprised you haven't hauled off and knocked the man's head in again," Killian says when she's finished.

Emma fails to hide a small smile. "Regina and I talked about that - twice, actually. I was never very good at letting other people handle things, but I trust her to do things the right way. She says she's got enough dirt on him."

He chuckles. He imagines Regina has enough information - or the means to acquire it - about anyone she wishes to blackmail, not just Gold. "I imagine so."

There's another pause as the wind picks up again. Killian's not sure if he's just gotten used to it at this point or if he's beginning to court frostbite. Emma tucks some of her hair back, out of her face. "Killian, I asked you for time to think," she says quietly. "Maybe not - not asking, but I said I wanted to think, that day on the porch when…"

She falls silent again and this time he doesn't fill in the blank. They both know what day she's talking about. After another moment she looks up, her face set with determination but her eyes wide and betraying her nerves. "I was scared. I was scared about what all this meant, what you meant to me. But I've had a lot of time to think since September - a lot of people to talk to. And I'm done thinking.

"I want this. Us."

Killian's never experienced his heart swelling and breaking all at once before now. It's an awful feeling - if she'd said that six weeks ago, even a month ago, he would have been the happiest man alive. He'd have swept her off her feet, both of them laughing and kissing and dancing to a tune only they could hear. He'd have absconded with her to the bedroom - their bedroom - a pirate savoring his most precious treasure.

Tina called me/Killian cheesy for this part. I accept that as a badge of honor. Killian the cheeseball is also one of my favorite things.

But it's not a month ago. And he's realized a few things since the accident.

She says otherwise, but he knows he's broken in his own ways. He knows he needs to heal - he wants to heal. He wants to make peace with his past, he wants to have full control of his body again, he wants to feel whole.

He wants to be a better man for her.

Something that’s very important for characters, for me anyway, is to give them ways to grow and change without pinning it specifically on another person. I’ll get more on that in a minute.

"Emma," he says softly, but too much time must have passed since her confession, and he looks up in time to see her walls climbing higher than ever before as her expression grows stony.

She's on her feet before he can think to say anything else and then he's leaping to his own feet and following her, reaching for her hand. "Emma, please, just hear me out. I don't - it's not as you think, love."

She stops and it breaks his heart further to see her eyes shining with unshed tears as she faces him. He keeps hurting her and this is precisely why he can't let her in just yet. He glances at her lips, set stubbornly in a line yet he can see the slight quiver as she fights for control of her emotions. "Emma, I have not been kind to you, yet I have never lied to you. Please believe me when I say I am still very much in love with you. And it's because I love you that I know I cannot be with you right now."

"Why?" It's a broken thing, this small question with so many answers to choose from.

He squeezes her hand and she responds, a flash of a smile before it fades away again. Killian swallows hard, hating himself for this decision. "I'm - I'm seeing someone right now. A therapist," he says quickly as her face falls. "She's a friend of Belle's, she'll tell you I'm not lying. Belle suggested it to begin with, a way for me to recover from what happened. This was - this was after we fought, after -"

"Yeah," Emma finishes for him.

He smiles briefly. "Tink's helping me get my head on straight, move past everything instead of burying it under work and drink. I don't think - I suppose I've been dealing with my past the wrong way. And it affected us."

Emma nods slowly. "Have you -" She pauses when her words come out funny and clears her throat. "Have you talked about me - us - at all?"

Killian squeezes her hand again. "Just once. Apparently I lack communication skills."

She snorts, then covers her mouth when she starts to laugh. He smiles as she loses herself in her giggles - there are few and far moments when he sees her like this and he finds her just as adorable as she was the last time. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment. "That's just the most absurd thing -"

"I know," he says, grinning. "Different skills, apparently."

She sobers after another moment. "So this… us… What happens now?"

He pulls her towards him and she allows him to envelop her in a hug. Her arms go around him almost instantly, holding him like she's afraid to let him go - and perhaps she is. His bad hand is trembling as he holds her waist - a sign he's exerted himself a bit too much today, even if it is just emotionally - his other hand rubbing small circles against her back. She shifts in his arms, her head turning to tuck just under his chin. "I promise you, Emma, I'll get better and we can revisit this someday," Killian murmurs against her beanie.

"Yeah, someday."

He can hear the disbelief in her voice, as if someone else has said the same words to her and failed to keep the promise of that hazy 'someday'. His resolve hardens. "Emma, look at me." He leans back slightly and she looks up, with tears clinging to her eyelashes and all. "I'm going to be a better man for you. These," he reaches up and taps his head, then his jaw, "are going to mend. And we will discuss this - discuss us - again. We just need to give each other a little more time."

People were keyboard smashing at me over this, but I like a healthy dose of realism with my fiction, thank you very much. No need to put two people together when they’re not going to be good for each other. Also there’s so much more story to happen.

Killian holds her gaze until she nods. "Okay." She sighs, resting her head against his chest again. "Maybe it's a good thing I'm getting out of here for a little while," she says.

"New York?"

She hums an affirmative. "Anna and Elsa want to show me around Boston a bit this weekend, too."

There's a sour taste in his mouth. "Ah, yes, the younger Miss Adgarssen wanted to parade you about to a sports team," he says without thinking, forgetting that she hadn't known he was around to hear them.

He feels something like a pinch in his side as Emma pulls back, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Someone's a stalker," she says drily.

"Hardly," Killian scoffs. "The three of you were quite audible as you wandered through the throng of trainers, I happened to be among them." She pinches him again, but it comes across as more of a tickle and he squirms away, grinning. "Apologies for overhearing something I apparently wasn't to be privy to."

She shakes her head. "No, don't apologize. And Elsa and I already talked her out of that - apparently I'm supposed to swoon over calf muscles or thighs or whatever, but I'm not interested in any of it."

Killian snorts. He happens to know Emma's quite fond of his legs, but just says, "I'm pleased to hear you're unfazed by such superficial nonsense."

She smirks. "I just told her I like a man who knows his way around a starting gate."

And this was the point where I gave up trying to keep these two from flirting with one another, full stop. It’s very difficult sometimes.

He raises an eyebrow at that. He sees her eyes flick down to his lips, her tongue almost automatically peeking out to wet her own lips as she looks back up at him. He feels the pull as strongly as she does, his gaze lingering on her lips for a moment too long before having to look away. She makes a small sound, perhaps in protest, and he can't help but chuckle. "Emma, if I kiss you now, I'm not sure I'd be able to stop," he admits.

"I'm not sure I'd mind," she tells him softly.

Killian glances down again, the temptation strong as she holds him even more tightly, her body a welcome warmth against his in the cold. He's already bending down, or she's raising up on her toes, he's not entirely sure or cares to be sure.

One kiss couldn't hurt, right? A promise that they're not finished, not quite yet.

Yeah, really, I couldn’t stop myself. Like at all. I tried to think of other ways to do this, but I’m like a kid with my dolls, making them smoosh faces. Also another bone to throw at the readers for being patient lol.

It's a cold touch of skin on skin, the breath from her nose warm against his cheek as she sighs into him. She doesn't push - no teasing touches from her tongue - and he doesn't press - doesn't wind her hair around his fingers, doesn't tilt her head to deepen the kiss. He couldn't even if he wanted to, but he knows that the moment he pulls away, he should leave.

He doesn't want to pull away.

The cold vanishes as his focus narrows down to Emma - Emma and the feel of her pressed up against him, the little nibbles and teases of her lips against his, the gentle sway of their bodies to some unheard tune. It's chaste and sweet, a moment he wants to savor and hold fast against the uncertainty of the future.

He never wants it to end.

But everything comes to an end someday, and she pulls away first. "That was…" she breathes, an echo of his words from a warmer day, filled with no less passion or interest than today.

"To be continued," he finishes, and he presses a kiss against her forehead.

She nods and he starts to walk away, removing himself from the situation before he breaks his resolve to fix himself, to be better, to become someone she could be proud to call hers. His heart hurts with every step, but it stutters when she calls his name. He glances over his shoulder, pausing mid-step. "Promise me something?" she asks. He nods, not trusting his voice. She folds her arms across her chest, holding herself tight. "Be a better man for yourself first, okay?"

So, back to that character change not pinned on one person thing! This line is super important and one that Killian doesn’t quite believe he can do for himself. He wants to change for her, and usually that sort of thing doesn’t work out. But later we do see that he’s found himself taking on the challenge of being sober, trying to prove to himself that he can be better. It definitely starts off as being about Emma, but it changes to being about himself and challenging himself to be better, and it sticks.

She waits until he nods, then turns on her heel and walks off in the other direction.

Perhaps Tink is right, he does lack communication skills - in more ways than he previously thought. He could only nod to her question; he had no words to explain to Emma that without her, he has no true reason to stick to his guns and change.

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/the-gang-confronts-me-too-in-one-of-the-most-explosively-funny-sunnys-in-years/

The Gang confronts Me Too in one of the most explosively funny Sunnys in years

Kaitlin Olson, Charlie Day, Glenn Howerton, Rob McElhenney, Danny DeVitoPhoto: Patrick McElhenney/FXX

“I feel like we should clap.”

Okay, let’s talk about one of the funniest moments in It’s Always Sunny history.

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First a word about spoilers. Hey—don’t read a review unless you’ve seen the thing that’s being reviewed. And, if you do, don’t complain about the review needing to discuss things that would have been great to see without being “spoiled” by you making the inexplicable choice to read a review before seeing the thing being reviewed.

Okay.

It’s Always Sunny In PhiladelphiaSeason 13

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So “Time’s Up For The Gang” sees Mac, Dee, Charlie, Dennis (returning after being MIA last week), and Frank attending a sexual harassment seminar because Paddy’s has been put on an internet “shitty bar list” of Philly establishments hostile to women. The intrepid and unsuspecting moderators (Marypat Farrell and Humphrey Ker), after enduring a barrage of inappropriate, profane, and otherwise point-missing interruptions, separate the Gang for some breakout sessions, perhaps thinking to dilute their charges’ obvious awfulness with a little distance.

That . . . does not work.

The male moderator, Alan, tries out a little roleplaying to address Mac and Dee’s clear lack of comprehension about appropriate workplace behavior. Asking Mac what his function is at Paddy’s elicits Mac’s traditional inflated sense of himself as the bar’s badass peacekeeping resident Swayze, although Dee and Charlie (also in the session) note that he’s just supposed to check IDs, which he doesn’t do. (Continuing the ongoing meta-jokes about Mac’s evolving—or devolving—role, Charlie muses, “He’s just, like, our gay guy now.”) Dee, being Dee, peppers the patiently befuddled Alan with questions about her motivation for playing someone going into a bar (“To get a drink?,” he suggests), settling finally and inexplicably on “revenge.” Alan, to get things rolling, says fine, and then the seemingly simple scene begins.

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Rob McElhenneyPhoto: Patrick McElhenney/FXX

Now—and just to prolong the lead-up to the gag for one more delicious moment—one might imagine that one knows where this is going. Dee and Mac are deeply into their roles here, and those roles are informed by the characters’ deep-rooted delusions about how they’re seen and who they are. Dee is a great actress. Mac is the “Sheriff of Paddy’s.” They’re both awful people. The episode, written by Megan Ganz, is about how awful people either deliberately or through societal conditioning turn any discussion of sexual harassment, consent, and rape culture into a boorish, facile intellectual shitshow. So Dee—seen entering the seminar singing a gloating “Time’s Up!” chant at the guys’ being called out in public—will (ineptly) play at being superior, while Mac will say something inappropriate under the guise of trying to score the “points” he thinks Paddy’s needs in order to get off the internet’s shit list.

Instead, Mac greets Dee’s opening line by hoisting Dee fully into the air by her vagina.

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Now, there’s a lot going on here, and all of it works to produce the biggest out-loud laugh I’ve gotten from a TV show in a long time. There’s the way in which Mac’s action echoes a phrase Donald Trump cemented into the American lexicon and elevates it (along with Dee) to shocking, absurdist heights. There’s the execution of the gag, which would have fallen flat if it didn’t look so seamlessly, impossibly actual. There’s the joke of Mac’s ridiculously buff new body, yet another physical transformation whose obvious offscreen effort on the part of Rob McElhenney is tossed off along with the Gang’s perpetual dismissal of Mac. There’s Dee’s awestruck reaction to Alan’s horrified assessment about Mac’s grab being designed to make Dee feel small, where she marvels, “It made me feel tiny, like Thumbelina!” There’s the abruptness, seizing the joke (and Dee) before we have a chance to imagine what’s coming.

Kaitlin Olson, Charlie Day, Danny DeVito, Rob McElhenney, Glenn HowertonPhoto: Patrick McElhenney/FXX

And the thing is, that’s only the first great, lunatic surprise of “Time’s Up For The Gang,” as, in yet another classic example of Dennis Reynolds’ meticulous hyper-masculine madness, it’s finally revealed that the entire exercise—involving two professional moderators, a viral awareness campaign, a Bond villain-worthy PowerPoint presentation, and dozens of Philadelphia business owners dragged to the Hyatt—is all Dennis’ doing. Throughout the episode, we see each member of the Gang but Dennis having their own particular sexual creepiness brought out into the open, leaving them each, in turn, suddenly drenched in panic-sweat. Frank (who returns from a hasty call to his lawyer in a dry, inadequately belted bathrobe) has a long history of hiring attractive women, sleeping with them, and then promoting them to shut them up. (“It’s a win-win,” he protests, “Except for the wives.”) Mac’s embrace of his long-repressed homosexuality has left him finally expressing his lust for Dennis and other men in very unwanted handsiness. Charlie’s fifteen years of stalking the Waitress is thoroughly deconstructed by Dennis, not as the actions of a “hopeless romantic” that Charlie would have it be, but as those of “a sad, pathetic wretch of a man so desperate to be loved that [he’ll] actually go rifling through somebody’s garbage.” And Dee, it’s revealed, isn’t as off the hook as her head-nodding female smugness would have her be, since Charlie explains that their one sexual encounter had enough distressing consent issues to lead him to think of it as “molestation.” (Charlie’s still in deep denial about Uncle Jack, though, The Nightman Cometh notwithstanding.)

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Charlie DayPhoto: Patrick McElhenney/FXX

Delivered with the maniacal precision of a supervillain, Dennis’ unveiling of his complex scheme is the culmination of the episode’s smartly subversive dissection of the issue at hand. I’ve said it before, but looking to Sunny for social commentary is a tricky proposition. For every feint toward flat-out pronouncements on cultural issues (gun control, abortion, racism, ableism, homophobia), It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia is, at its tarry black heart, a character study of human weakness. The Gang forms five points of the same Vonnegut-esque cartoon anus in their various embodiments of the bottom-scraping worst in all of us. So here, while there are passing shots at mens’ rights talking points and male panic about the Me Too movement (“I don’t know if you noticed but women are on a little bit of a rampage right now and anyone could be taken down at any moment,” lectures Dennis), the episode functions most eloquently in its takedown of the base self-interest that drags man-woman interactions down to the Philly mud. We don’t need Sunny to come out and say rape culture is insidious, that men have serious issues when it comes to women, and that Mac’s idea of the cosy coolness of “locker room talk” is self-justifying misogyny, because Sunny—for all its gleeful and skillful comic scandalousness—operates on the principle that basic human decency is a good thing.

But the Gang is us at our venal, cruel, human decency-eschewing worst. So when Frank’s old school, underling-banging behavior is aired out, or when Mac perks up when female moderator Kate gives way to Alan (“Oh, here comes the boss man.”), or when Charlie’s squirmy obsessions are shown to stem from incel-style male entitlement, or when Dee gloats while ignoring her own abuse of sexual power dynamics, their sweat-soaked comeuppance indicts the “just saying what everybody’s thinking” crowd without itself breaking a sweat. (Dennis’s presentation also trots out the whole “women only report ugly harassers” argument as part of his mission to include every rape-apologist cliché.) That’s what Sunny does at its best.

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Glenn HowertonPhoto: Patrick McElhenney/FXX

As for Dennis—the Gang member most in need of this particular moral correction—the fact that he engineered the whole enterprise as part of his ongoing campaign to skirt the law while continuing to indulge his truly unsettling fetish for questionable consent play is a masterstroke worthy of the evil genius he is at such moments. When the rest of the Gang, outed by Dennis’ plan, object that Dennis has “Dennis-ed” more women than any of them, Dennis’ smug response comes wrapped in his layers of self-insulating preparation. As his culminating presentation goes on, Dennis reveals that he—unlike the rest of the Gang—keeps his life “tight,” complete with congratulatory and legally binding exonerating texts from his conquests. “Their phones did,” responds Dennis to objections that no woman would write a sexual partner that “I am saying YES to everything that happened last night,” Glenn Howerton expertly switching off whatever light exists behind Dennis Reynolds’ eyes. When Kate, informed that her well-intentioned expertise was merely a part of Dennis’ ploy to preemptively solidify alibis for his life of deception and abuse, shouts “You’re a monster,” Dennis Reynolds, tossing the PowerPoint remote aside in triumph, fixes her with a snakelike gaze and says, “Prove it.” It’s chilling, it’s masterful, and, as Charlie—anticipating the response of those all too willing to latch onto any powerful man’s excuses for accusations of sexual misconduct—puts it, “I gotta be honest, I didn’t follow most of it, but so cool, man.”

Stray observations

Frank to his lawyer, after his robe pops open in front of Kate: “How soon can you get to the Hyatt? My dong fell out.”

Mac defends his obsession with scoring points, rebutting, “Everything is graded by points, otherwise, how did the Eagles win the Super Bowl?”

Dennis’ intimate knowledge of pending statute of limitations laws and legal definitions of consent and harassment (he even knows who Carmita Wood is) recall nothing so much as how the manager of Alec Baldwin’s jailbait-chasing movie star in State And Main keeps a copy of statutory rape precedent in his car.

Another huge director-crafted laugh: After Alan rightly defines what Mac just did as actual sexual assault, Mac looks to Charlie for backup, only to see Charlie’s empty seat and the closing conference room door. Well done, Kat Coiro.

Dee uses Me Too paranoia to clear all of the men out of the buffet line.

Illustrating his “ugly men don’t get accused of harassment” point, Dennis flashes a picture of Cricket, punctuating the truly horrifying evidence of the Gang’s decades of abuse on the poor guy’s face by assuring his audience, “He was born this way.”

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Source: https://tv.avclub.com/the-gang-confronts-me-too-in-one-of-the-most-explosivel-1829270618