#refuse to acknowledge

[madridmaster]

what the FUCK do you mean I’ve woken up at one am to DARREN RETIRING

i am cackling at jannik’s accidental reveal

[randomfoggytiger]

Which X-Files Canonical Event Do You Refuse to Acknowledge?

Mulder's Brain Disease

Scully Gave Up William for Adoption

Scully and Ed Jerse Had a One-Night Stand

Mulder's Father Is the CSM

William-Jackson Is an Experiment

Emily Sims Died

Anything Post *Fill-In Favorite Series Ending*

Voting ended onMar 4, 2023

[handisuyadi]

Denial always be denial. Always. Ever. 

[jjggukkie]

I know that everyone gets older every year

But when it's Jeon Jungkook, I just....

[reflectinginasentence]

As they say, ignorance is bliss.

[kat8porgs]

i actually started writing this bit in txts to erin because of insomnia

"Phil," Rogers raps his WASP knuckles on Coulson's desk, startling him out of an uncomfortable doze. It was amazing the kind of ways one could fall asleep in, Coulson had once seen a man fall asleep standing up and stay standing. Coulson wasn't the kind of guy to sleep on the job but a case like the Barton murders had him running low on energy and suffering from a growing immunity to the power of caffeine. Falling asleep with one hand under his chin and his elbow wedged against his desk had been inevitable. "You need to grab a few Zs, go to the break room."

No one would think less of Phil if he grabbed 40 winks in the break room, everyone on the Barton case had rotated in and out and off and on the awful couch that resided against the break room's wall. Coulson didn't want to leave his desk, he didn't want to leave his files but he especially didn't want to leave his phone. The phone calls had been a part of Barton's murder sprees for three years now. Coulson was never sure why Barton had chosen to look up then, he didn't know if it was because he wanted to get internal affairs on Coulson's case and almost get him suspended or if he had just wanted to gloat to someone he knew would listen. Whatever it was, Barton had given him a call on his first murder 'spree'. Three bodies dead and a phone call to Coulson after each one, the next time, six bodies dead and a phone call to Coulson after each one, this time… this time he didn't know. 12 bodies? 9? What was the pattern? He knew the victim type; male, living alone, with a history of abusing others. He knew Barton's method, he liked to cut and bleed and torture, sometimes he changed things up but he always went in close for the kill. But the pattern… he didn't know that.

He did know that Barton was just getting started.  

"We all know that." Rogers was a good guy, he had been a scrawny kid who had really bloomed once he hit college and really filled out when he joined the force, he pressed one of those All American hands to Coulson's arm and pushed him a bit. Normally Coulson could have taken Rogers, brawn or not, but today he was not up to it. "C'mon, Phil, let's get you-"

Then Phil's phone rang.

The precinct hushed and everyone's attention was glued to Coulson's phone as that one ring ended, when another began they leapt to action. Recording equipment, tracing equipment, everyone wanting an ear on the conversation, Coulson waited till the third ring, his heart thudding loudly in his chest and his partner's hand doing nothing to slow the flood of adrenaline in his veins before he leaned forward and picked the receiver up.

"Coulson."

"Do you get any calls that aren't me?" Barton always manages to sound cheerful over the phone, Phil wonders if it's acting or if he really is. "I like hogging your attention."

"You have my attention, Barton," and half of the country's, "if you want more of it we could talk in person." He'd attended seven seminars on how to talk to a perp and two psychological talks about serial killers, he still wasn't sure if anything he did with Barton was right. Last year they'd brought in an FBI agent to coach him, Barton hadn't liked that.

"I like our phone conversations." Barton sighed. "Coulson, life's really not fair."

It surprised a laugh out of Coulson who was running on too little sleep, too much coffee, and that fluttery feeling in his chest and stomach he got whenever they caught a break. "You're telling me that? I thought you should discuss that with your victims. The ones you kill."

"I didn't kill this one." Was that… was Barton whining? Yes he was. "He died on his own, heart attack… I don't know if I should count him."

If he should… Phil licked his lips. "You made him have the attack, I think it counts, Barton."

"Maybe for half a kill," Barton had set the phone down and turned it on speaker; he was heading for the window again, damn, could he tell how close they were with the trace? Did he time these things? "Or maybe for a whole. I want you to call me Clint, Coulson."

There's an expectant pause, everyone in the room is looking at Coulson, he feels sweat drip down his neck. "…why don't you come in and we'll talk about it."

The chuckle is faint, Barton's too far away. "It's always fun talking to you, detective. Catch me if you can."