#idk why or what so this is all you're gonna get

[morethanonepage]

#I think I've finally put my finger on why get less invested in fantasy stories where homophobia isn't real #which is #if you're in a world where being queer is normal and completely unremarkable #in a world where noble families set their sons up or whatever #aside from the logistical questions I think what gets me is more #if the story is focused on romance #at that point it's interchangeable with a hetero book for me #if their relationship is considered bog standard #if there are no norms they're pushing against #no hesitation or implications #everyone is assumed bi so nobody is learning anything about themselves #it also means there's no queer subcultures #or community #idk to use a prev example of 1940s But No Homophobia #I would much rather read about characters that are in or pointedly outside of queer spaces and communities #You don't have to show the rest of the world and graphic homophobic detail for the reader to understand that it's there #I don't want to say there's no point in it being queer otherwise #because a lot of people take a comfort in those stories #Which is why we just need more of all kinds #But to me if the characters are doing the same thing that everybody else is in their world #I get the same thing out of it they do out of a hetero romance #Anyway I would like a lot of books in this genre but I'm always gonna land on the side of homophobia for it tragically

(@runawaymarbles tags)

sorry my stance on stories w no homophobia is just um. well it could do w a little homophobia if im being honest

[youthereader]

Critical Mass

pairing: Reed Richards (Fantastic Four) x villian!Reader

summary: 4.4k words. You're a supervillain. Reed Richards is the bane of your existence—and also the only man you’ve ever met who can keep up with you, mentally and physically.

rating: E -- phew. there's a lot. PWP. Enemies with Benefits. Size Kink. Reed... stretches. Overstimulation. Anal & Vaginal Fingering. Facefucking. Mild degradation. Power play. More vibes than plot, honestly.

a/n: this is silly and filthy and idk what else to tell you. Enjoy! 💙

He showed up earlier than you predicted. You made it ten minutes, maybe twelve, before the sensors even spiked, and there he was: hair mussed from running his hands through it, gloves mismatched, eyes narrowed.

God, he was so easy.

You stood at the edge of the singularity chamber with your arms folded, a grin playing at the corner of your mouth. “Stretch,” you purred. “You made it. How… punctual.”

“Shut it down.”

“No ‘hello’? No ‘wow, look at this magnificent thing you’ve built using tech you definitely didn’t steal from me’?”

He stepped forward with tight shoulders and a clenched jaw, clearly trying not to stare at the way your suit hugged your thighs. It was red today—tight, high-collared, zippered only to mid-sternum—and you knew exactly how it played on every single one of his weaknesses.

“You’re going to destabilize the layer,” he said, voice sharp and low. “This configuration—”

“—is more stable than your original, actually,” you interrupted. “I patched your math. Don’t worry. I left a post-it.”

He blinked once. Twice. “What post-it.”

You waved toward the rim of the singularity. “You’ll find it. Eventually.”

He stared at the breach, then back at you. “You don’t get to just… alter quantum scaffolding and call it a gift.”

You tilted your head. “Why not? You do it all the time. Usually without lube.”

That earned you a twitch of the jaw. Maybe even a swallowed smile. But he didn’t let it surface.

“I should arrest you,” he muttered.

“But then you wouldn’t get to see the next surprise.”

He exhaled through his nose. A tell. You knew them all by now—what annoyed him, what thrilled him, what pulled that frown just a little deeper. You lived for it. Every expression he made was like music, a new data point on a chart you weren’t supposed to be tracking.

He turned to disable the breach. His fingers moved too quickly, a little desperate.

“You’re not gonna ask what it does?”

“I don’t need to.”

“Then why’d you come?”

He didn’t answer.

Behind you, a hiss echoed. Smooth. Familiar.

Reed stiffened again—not at the breach this time.

“Is that—?”

“Say hello to Reed,” you said, turning slightly as your pet—an elegant boa constrictor with glossy scales—coiled at your feet. “He likes you. I trained him to respond to stress hormones and brooding.”

“You named your snake after me?”

“No,” you said sweetly. “I named him after what you do when I wear red.”

You expected him to storm out. You expected fury.

Instead: a sharp exhale, the briefest flicker of something electric behind his eyes.

And then he said it—quiet, rough:

“…That suit’s new.”

Bingo.

“Shut it down,” he said again, stepping closer. Too close. You could see the faint scuff marks on his gloves, the fine stress lines in his brow. Reed Richards, king of composure, looked like he wanted to strangle you.

You smirked. “You always this bossy, Stretch, or is it just with me?”

“You’re destabilizing a cross-dimensional barrier.” His voice was taut, clipped — but his eyes? Oh, they were giving you everything. “One miscalculation and you could rip a hole straight into—”

“—into something terrifying and world-ending?” You gave a slow shrug, arching an eyebrow. “And yet here you are. Every time. Like you can’t resist watching me work.”

“Resist?” His jaw tightened. “You’re a criminal.”

You stepped forward, close enough to feel the warmth of his body through that pristine blue suit of his. “Maybe. Or maybe you just like chasing me too much to admit I’m smarter than you.”

That did it. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping just short of the zipper of your suit. His grip wasn’t painful — it was controlled, trembling slightly with the tension he refused to name.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what?” You tilted your head, the barest hint of a smile curving your lips. “Don’t keep making you look? Don’t make you wonder what I’d do if you—”

He let go of your wrist like it burned, but didn’t move back. “This… game of yours—”

“Oh, it’s a game?” You took a deliberate step into his space, eyes locking on his. “Because you look a little too worked up for someone who’s just here to scold me, Doctor.”

Reed swallowed hard. You could practically hear him trying to calculate the precise moment where his professionalism had failed. His eyes flicked over your face — your mouth — and you knew. You knew.

You leaned in just enough to let your breath brush his cheek. “Say it, Stretch.”

“Say what?”

“That you like it.” You smiled, wicked and sweet. “That you like me.”

His nostrils flared, his breath stuttered. “I don’t—”

“Oh, sure.” You reached up, trailing a single finger along the high collar of his uniform. “That’s why you’re shaking.”

He stepped back like you’d burned him, which was hilarious considering you were the one in the red suit.

“You’re reckless,” he said, and there it was—that brittle, lecturing tone he tried to use like a scalpel. “You think this is all just fun, don’t you? You breach dimensional membranes like you’re playing goddamn hopscotch.”

You grinned. “Oh no. You’re the one who plays god, remember? I’m just the heretic.”

He ignored that, jaw working as he looked past you to the still-humming containment field. “This kind of intellect—your understanding of spatial mechanics, the vector manipulation—you’re wasting it. You could be… better than this.”

You folded your arms. “Let me guess: better like you?”

He didn’t take the bait. Not directly. He exhaled slowly, like it pained him to even talk to you. Like it pained him not to.

“I read your Dyson Sphere schematics,” he said tightly. “You’re trying to brute-force a stellar collapse just to see if you can build a new kind of energy field. No testing. No safety margins. No checks.”

“I made my own sun, Stretch. You should be proud.”

He stepped forward again, eyes hard. “I’m not. I’m furious. Do you have any idea what you’re risking? What would happen if you got it wrong?”

“Not really,” you said breezily. “But I figured it might piss you off, and that’s always worth the gamble.”

He was so close again—so tense, so still. A live wire. He looked at you like you were both a miracle and a math error. His voice dropped low, almost guttural. “You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh no.” You gasped, mock-affronted. “Not even second place? What about Doom? What about Ben when he sings karaoke?”

“You’re not like them.”

That stopped you cold.

You blinked. “No?”

He looked away.

Bingo again.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Go on. Say what I am, then. A threat? A mistake?” You leaned in. “A fantasy you haven’t figured out how to solve?”

Reed’s silence was deafening. You could see the words stacked behind his teeth, all the ways he wanted to correct you—push you away—but none of them came.

You let the silence stretch (pun intended) until it felt like static. And then you laughed, soft and delighted.

“You want to arrest me, Reed? Then do it.” You held your arms out, wrists together, offering yourself up like a sacrifice. “Or maybe you just want to see how much tighter the suit gets when I breathe in.”

He looked like he was going to combust. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and said, voice raw:

“You’re wasting everything you could be.”

And you said—gently, honestly, ruinously:

“No, Stretch. I am everything I could be. You just don’t like that it doesn’t look like you.”

You watched the line of Reed’s jaw twitch.

Not a single word came out of him. Not a rebuttal, not a command. Just breath held tight between clenched teeth, like he was performing actual calculations to keep himself from combusting.

Good. Let him burn.

You took a slow, deliberate step closer. He didn’t move. Another step, and you were well into his space—close enough to hear the subtle hum of his suit’s energy signature, close enough to smell ozone and soap and suppressed tension.

You smiled, soft and saccharine.

“So,” you murmured, tilting your head, “what’s next, Stretch? Another condescending lecture about how I’m wasting my potential? Or are you just mad that I figured out how to drive you crazy in a catsuit?”

He stayed rigid, but his eyes followed your every movement like a wolf tracking a pulse.

“If I didn’t know better,” you continued, barely a breath away now, “I’d think you wanted to touch me.”

Still nothing. His breathing was deeper now, slower, like he was trying not to snap.

Your hand rose and, with just a single finger, you dragged a line down the center of his chest, right over the insignia stretched across his sternum. His body didn’t move, but you felt the shift—like coiled wires thrumming just beneath his skin.

“You get so wound up,” you said, almost kindly. “All that genius and not a clue what to do with someone who doesn’t play by your rules.”

His eyes darkened.

You leaned in, lips close enough to brush against his if either of you tilted even slightly. Your voice was silk-wrapped venom.

“What would you do, Reed, if I kissed you right now?”

His mouth parted like he might answer.

But you reached up and touched his jaw instead, soft and slow and entirely without fear.

That was the moment he snapped.

It wasn’t tentative or hesitant or controlled. His hands were on you in a heartbeat, one gripping the back of your neck, the other curling around your waist as he yanked you into him like gravity had finally given up the lie. His mouth found yours in a hard, desperate kiss—ferocious and furious, like he was trying to devour every word you’d ever said that had driven him to madness.

You gasped into him, and he took it like a prize. You laughed against his mouth, and he growled low in his throat, kissing you harder.

You’d known it would be like this—inevitable, explosive, inevitable. Precision bleeding into chaos.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your breath ragged, your hands fisted in the seams of his suit.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered, triumphant.

He stared at you like you’d undone the very fabric of his life, then kissed you again.

This time, it was worse.

And better. There was no going back.

His mouth crushed yours, rougher than you expected—hard, punishing, relentless. One hand twisted into your hair, not for show, but to hold you still as he kissed you like he hated that he’d waited this long.

You gasped, the sharp tug jerking your head back just enough for him to follow and bite down on your bottom lip. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t pause. He devoured.

You didn’t expect him to indulge so fast, so soon. It was thrilling. You’d thought you’d have to draw it out, push him to the brink. But apparently Reed Richards was already at the edge, and you’d just given him permission to fall.

You met him with teeth and tongue, clawing at the collar of his suit, your bodies smashing together like colliding particles. Groping turned competitive—he grabbed your ass, so you ground your hips against him; you pulled at his zipper, he shoved you into a console. You bit his lip, and he groaned into your mouth like it hurt and turned him on in equal measure.

He tasted like fury and precision and weeks of restraint breaking down.

When you laughed—breathless, smug, riding the high of your victory—he growled and hooked a leg behind yours, taking you down.

You hit the floor with a thud, elbows scraping against the cold metal. He followed, landing over you in a controlled sprawl, hips pinning yours, his hand pressing into your chest just hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

You grinned up at him, even as your pulse pounded.

“Overwhelmed, Stretch?”

He grabbed your jaw in one hand, his thumb dragging your lip down.

“Shut up,” he said.

Then he tore open your suit like he’d been dreaming of doing it. The zipper went down in one violent motion, and your suit peeled away like silk. You didn’t even get a second to laugh again. His mouth was back on yours, and then lower, and then gone again as he pushed his own uniform out of the way with shaking hands.

No pretense. No buildup. He was done pretending.

He lined up and slammed into you in a single thrust that knocked every smug word out of your mouth. The noise you made was raw, involuntary, punched out of your lungs by the force of it.

You blinked up at him, stunned and delighted.

“Jesus,” you whispered.

He didn’t slow down.

You could feel the difference the second he bottomed out—thick, pulsing, deep enough to make your thighs tremble. But then he moved, and you realized he wasn’t just big.

He was stretching inside you.

Not metaphorically. Not just because you were full.

Actually stretching, growing thicker, longer with every thrust—experimental, deliberate, controlled even in his chaos. Your breath hitched. Your fingers scrabbled at the floor, searching for purchase on anything solid as your body adjusted and struggled to accommodate him.

He was watching your face like he expected you to tell him to stop. Like he was waiting for you to panic.

You didn’t.

Instead, you laughed—a high, breathless thing that tore through your throat. You wrapped your legs around him tighter and tipped your head back with a grin.

“C’mon, Stretch,” you gasped. “That all you’ve got?”

He slammed into you so hard your head knocked back against the floor. The rhythm was merciless after that—piston-slick and unforgiving, every stroke punching up into a spot so deep it made your vision blur.

He was quiet except for his breath, but his expression was murderous. Focused. Like he was dissecting you from the inside out and loving every second.

When you came the first time, it wasn’t graceful. It hit like a lightning strike—white heat exploding through your spine, your whole body jerking underneath him.

And that’s when he did it.

He stretched again. Thicker. Just enough to rip another cry out of you—louder this time, sharper. Your cunt spasmed around the sudden pressure, and your orgasm folded in on itself, surged again, dragged you up and over until you were sobbing into your own arm, legs shaking.

You didn’t even realize he’d slipped a hand down until his fingers circled your clit, rubbing fast and wet. The pleasure built too quick, too hot. You thrashed, hips jerking as another climax surged up—this one violent, wrung out of you by the obscene fullness and friction.

And then you squirted—a hard gush between your thighs, uncontrolled, humiliating in the most perfect way. You whimpered through it, legs kicking weakly against his sides as he slowed, finally, finally easing the pressure but not pulling out.

You were soaked. Messy. Gasping like you’d run a marathon.

He stayed inside you, hips locked, chest rising hard.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then his hand—gentle now—brushed your face, smoothing damp hair from your forehead. His breath still ragged, his voice scraped and soft.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked up at him, throat raw, cunt still fluttering around him with aftershocks. And you smiled.

“Do it again.”

His eyes darkened. He kissed your temple like it was reverent.

And then he moved.

You were still stretched around him, soaked and twitching, when he started to move again—slow at first, like he thought you might flinch, like he might regret it.

You didn’t.

You locked your ankles around his back and dug your nails into his biceps, pulling him back down, daring him to keep going.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you rasped, voice wrecked.

His expression shifted—control fracturing again, pupils blown wide as he rocked his hips forward. Not hard this time. Deep. He was watching your face with laser focus, like he wanted to memorize every twitch and breath and tremble.

“You want it like this?” he asked, rough and low, a challenge hidden in the reverence.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He paused, buried inside you, and let his cock thicken again—stretching you wider, fuller, dangerously close to too much.

You cried out, hips jerking. It wasn’t pain. It was too good. Too much.

Your hands scrabbled at his back, fingers slipping against sweat and heat. You felt your cunt spasm again around him, so full you could barely breathe, and he started to move—slow and brutal, grinding in deep on every pass.

It hit different this time. Overstretched and slick, your body too raw to take it and too greedy to stop. The friction was obscene. Wet and messy, slapping skin and open gasps, and he was everywhere—inside you, over you, under your skin.

You came again too fast, sobbing through it, your thighs quivering uncontrollably as he fucked you through it, stretching every nerve to its snapping point.

Your body gave out first. You spasmed hard around him, then your legs dropped open, limp. You couldn’t close them if you tried.

He didn't slow. Didn’t give you time to recover.

He kissed you then—hot and deep and reverent—and pressed his palm flat between your hips and your ribs like he was holding the mess inside you. You whimpered into his mouth, brain static, body gone.

“More,” you whispered, even as you trembled. “God, just—more.”

His groan was so low it vibrated against your chest. He wrapped one arm behind your shoulders, the other under your knee, and shifted the angle until your spine arched up into him, legs flung open like a gift.

The next thrust made you scream.

You squirted again, hot and helpless, soaking the floor beneath you with a gush that made his breath catch. You sobbed through it, brain blank with sensation, body convulsing in waves that didn’t stop.

This time, he stilled.

His hands smoothed over your thighs, your waist, your sides—touches gone gentle now, reverent again. His mouth moved along your jaw, down your neck, whispering nothing, everything.

He was still hard inside you. Still thick, still pulsing. But he didn’t push anymore. Just stayed there, letting you twitch and gasp and cling to his suit with unsteady fingers.

When your breathing finally slowed, he looked down at you.

“You okay?” he murmured again, voice hoarse.

You blinked up at him, tear-streaked and grinning.

“Still not enough.”

He groaned, dropped his head to your shoulder, and laughed—deep and guttural and fucking wrecked.

“God help me,” he whispered. “You’re going to kill me.”

You kissed his temple.

“Only if I don’t come first.”

He slid out of you with a slick, obscene sound that made your whole body jolt. You grunted, already clenching around nothing, slick dripping down your thighs in thick strings that caught the light. His cock was wet and shining, twitching with the need to bury itself back where it belonged.

You could barely breathe, splayed out under him, cunt fluttering, nerves fried. But he didn’t move—not yet. He held you against his chest instead, both of you panting, his hands running slowly down your back like he was trying to memorize the shape of you through the fog of what he’d just done.

Your cheek pressed against his neck. You could feel his pulse, hot and pounding.

It should’ve been over. You were wrecked. Too full. Too sore.

But your hips twitched, searching for friction, for pressure, for more.

Your fingers clutched at him blindly, dragging yourself higher up on his chest until your mouth brushed his ear.

Again.

You keened the word into his skin like a plea, like a curse, like a command.

His body stiffened. His hands gripped your thighs.

You rolled against him, breath ragged, thighs slipping around his waist, your cunt still hot and soaked and ready.

“Stretch for me,” you whispered.

And he did.

His cock pressed back into you, thick and aching, stretching you open all over again. But this time, as you moaned into his neck, he moved differently—slow, precise, relentless. One arm braced under you to hold your limp, boneless weight steady.

Then came the fingers.

One slid lower, brushing your ass before easing in—not tentative, not timid. A thick finger pushing past resistance, slicked with your own wetness, curling inside you as you gasped.

And another… longer. Reaching.

You realized too late that it wasn’t from the same hand.

You lifted your head, eyes going wide as another stretch of him pressed against your lips—his third hand, fully extended, molding around your jaw, coaxing your mouth open.

You whimpered and opened for him, tongue slick and eager. The digit slid in, long and slow and perfect, pressing over your tongue, stroking the back of your throat.

He fucked you like that—body to body, one finger filling your ass, another stretching your throat, your cunt stuffed full and pulsing, draped over him like an offering.

Your eyes rolled back.

Your body seized.

And still, he gave you more.

You were already shaking when he started to move harder—slow at first, deliberate, like he was savoring every noise you made with that finger in your mouth and the other buried deep in your ass. His cock drove into you at a merciless rhythm, hitting every battered, overstimulated nerve inside you, dragging out sob after sob as your body twitched uselessly against him.

It built fast—too fast.

There was no edge to crawl toward this time. No warning.

Just your muscles locking, your spine arching, and then a scream that tore from your throat around the finger still lodged deep inside it. You came like you were being wrung out—loud, violent, everything clenching and fluttering and pulsing around every inch of him inside you. Slick gushed down your thighs. Your arms flailed and then went limp.

The scream dissolved into gasps, then into nothing.

And then—black.

You didn’t even know you’d passed out.

When you came to, you were lying flat on your back on something soft—some sort of blanket or coat spread across the floor, your thighs still parted, trembling. You blinked up at the ceiling, chest rising in small, shallow pants.

A warm cloth passed slowly between your legs.

You shuddered and tried to flinch away, but you didn’t have it in you. Your arms felt like lead. Your muscles were boneless, your cunt still pulsing gently with aftershocks.

Reed was kneeling between your thighs, naked to the waist, eyes soft behind his sweat-mussed curls. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between clinical focus and guilt. Not because of what he’d done. But because of how far he’d taken you.

His hands were steady as he cleaned the mess from your skin—gathering everything you’d spilled, gently wiping your thighs, your folds, the sore stretch of your entrance. He was careful with every stroke, working slowly, barely pressing down, like your whole body was made of glass.

You could feel how wet everything still was. How open you still were.

He didn’t say anything. Just worked in silence, breath slow, the occasional flick of his eyes checking your face for signs of pain.

When he finished, he set the cloth aside and shifted closer, gathering your limp body against his chest. One arm looped around your back. The other cupped the back of your head.

He stroked your spine.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Gentle. Reassuring.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t tease him. Couldn’t make some sly comment about how smug he usually was, how exhausting it was to fuck a hero with a god complex.

You just breathed.

He kept holding you. It was quiet.

He lifted you with care, cradling your body against his chest like something precious and ruined. You were too spent to speak, too limp to tease, but you didn’t need to. He laid you gently onto the bed, cool sheets beneath your back, your legs still parted from how thoroughly he’d used you.

You blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked, as he knelt between your thighs again. You thought he might finally be done.

He wasn’t.

His mouth found you again, tongue slow and deep, licking into your swollen cunt like you were the first real thing he’d ever tasted. You whimpered, trembling under the assault, overwhelmed and unable to stop him. You didn’t want to stop him.

“I can’t,” you whispered, half-gasp, half-laugh. “I can’t come again.”

He didn’t reply. He just groaned softly into you, fingers spreading your folds so he could lick deeper, slower, savoring your twitching moans like they were equations he’d solved by instinct. Your hips bucked once, uselessly. You gave up and let him have you.

When he finally pulled back, your skin was wet and flushed and trembling. His cock was still hard—still untouched, flushed an angry red, leaking at the tip.

He looked at you like he didn’t know what he wanted more: to touch you again, or come so hard he forgot his own name.

And that’s when you opened your mouth.

“Give it to me,” you rasped. “I want to taste it. Want your come in my mouth.”

He stared at you like you’d just handed him a nuclear core.

Then he crawled up the bed, hovering over you, one hand bracing beside your head, the other wrapped tight around the base of his cock.

You opened your mouth wider, let your tongue loll out just a little, still spread open and wrecked beneath him.

“Please,” you whispered, half-smiling. “Be a hero.”

His breath stuttered.

He jerked himself faster, watching your mouth like he couldn’t believe it. The moment he came, it was with a broken gasp and a low, trembling moan—hot spurts landing across your tongue, your lips, your waiting throat.

You swallowed around him, eyes fluttering closed, every nerve still buzzing.

When he finished, he cupped your jaw gently and bent down to kiss you—soft and grateful, tasting himself on your lips.

He pulled back, panting, and reached for something off the side table. A cool glass pressed to your lips—electrolytes. You drank, slow and obedient, your body too heavy to move.

As he stood to go, you watched him through slitted eyes, still breathless.

“Always have to save someone, huh, Stretch?”

He stopped at the door. You didn’t see his expression, but you heard him laugh—soft and shaken.

Then he was gone, and you were alone in the dark, dripping, full, and still smiling.

😚 ty for reading

[mrs-monaghan]

so again jk first post in insta is v

Actually no. JK still hasn't posted anything. That post belongs to V who made it a collab post with JK who accepted it and so now it appears on his "posts" IG is weird. What happened to tagging like Facebook?,

Anyway, Idk the point of your ask but I'm gonna use it to comment on the madness happening rn because of this video

Bro. Insecure Jikookers are so freaking annoying. I hate y'all so much. Can you just leave already?? You're making us all look bad. Jikookers can say we are not like trashkookers till the cows come home but as long as we have insecure Jikookers spiralling over this video no one is going to believe us. I mean, what is there to be insecure about???

Literally go Google "BTS sitting on each other's laps"

And these are just the ones tumblr is allowing me to share. Literally go check it out for yourself. FFS V is all over RM here

And you're getting upset over this???

Look at JK's body language, bro. I'm not saying he's uncomfortable but he's doing that thing two straight dudes do when sitting on eo. (Or 2 dudes who are just bros) He's leaning back. If that was Jimin on his lap he'd be leaning forward or would wrap his arms around Jimin's waist. I mean among the photos you'll find on Google is this one of JK's fingers on Jimin's nipple for some reason.

The reaction to that tkk video is WILD!!!! Like, why?? For what?? Lap sitting is not exclusive to Tkk. Its a BTS thing. Now y'all have trashkookers thinking we are threatened by Taekook. They want that so bad for us because majority of the time we have managed to show them we don't care that tkk are friends. But this video done gone and made some of y'all loose your minds for what???

Video didn't even come from JK, bro. I wish it had so I could at least get where y'all are coming from, damn. Fuck this, man. Call me when Taekook do this.

Until then, get a fucking grip!

[unikhroma]

when i was drawing my first rambton art, i was tryna figure out why it was that spamton hates tenna. we know the main reason why tenna hates spamton, it's cause he feels like he was abandoned and ripped off by him, but a lot of what we got from spamton's side was vague

the closest things we got to specific info was him asking if he was gonna get fucked over right at the good part and says "WHAT ARE YOU, A [Gameshow Host]??" and him declaring that tenna is a criminal

you'd think spamton would've liked tenna cause it kinda seemed like he gave spamton special treatment and spamton gave tenna a gift. tenna wasn't the one who broke the partnership, after all

but it's ramb all of people that implies their relationship wasn't all that good

the "certain... y'know" has to be spamton because the Z-rank room is obviously a room he inhabited or at the Very Very least one that tenna associates with him, as that's where the phone is located. the way i interpret these lines is that spamton under-performed or didn't reach tenna's expectations outside of the whole not telling him what his secret was.

my reasoning is that ramb is sympathetic about kris doing poorly instead of pointing out that they were doing poorly on purpose (which is how you get the Z-rank). him saying that tenna's not too keen on that behavior After telling kris they gave it a good try implies that it's the fact that they did a bad job is what tenna doesn't like rather than idk pissing him off on purpose

this accidentally unused rank for the tenna board battles also supports that he underperformed and it's something that tenna still holds over him even though he's not around anymore

not to mention that tenna makes it a point to "punish" the kids if they do poorly. with the kids, it's not serious, but he still says pretty rude things to them. it's possible the punishment thing extends to employees. makes me sad to think about cause i think the last thing spamton needed was more people making fun of him

in addition, the Z-rank room itself is so cramped and doesn't look like a nice place to be even if it wasn't left to disrepair, not to mention the rank being the lowest possible one..

and the door height ! it's so low which i feel like spamton could not have felt good about. his height/size is a sore subject for him; it's one of the things he's delusional about. it's a metaphor of how he can't live Up to expectations as a darkner either cause yknow, the stuff the addisons said about how he was just a little shorter than the others and the lightners didn't pay attention to him. the below expectations thing lines up there as well

so yeah, almost everything about that room is kinda negative, and it's a bit sad that the posters there are for presumably for spamton and tenna's happy partnership despite spamton being put in such a place (i do have a theory that it may not be tenna and spamton on the posters but they're the most likely candidates rn)

i think he believed that they had something good, but eventually realized that working with tenna wasn't as good as it was at the beginning. i do think they had a good relationship at some point btw, but their friendship crumbled the longer spamton worked with him

the point of this whole post is that i don't think spamton is being unreasonable with his anger towards tenna. i also really wanted to highlight the details between these two that aren't just them referencing each other's dialogue ........

seems like in the end, spamton couldn't live up to tenna's expectations, and he felt like tenna didn't care about him (going off of him saying "YOU REALLY DO CARE!!!")

the pipis addendum

..if you're wondering why i don't consider the pipis being their #baby alongside the reason given in my puppetification theory, it's cause spamton refers to the one he gave to noelle as a "little blue gift" and calls the one tenna has an 'it', so i think it's intended as a gift rather than something they made together and raised

also, spamton saying "YOU KEPT IT!!!" kind of implies. that he knew it was going to be thrown away. my game theory is that the fact that pipis multiply on their own was something that put tenna off when he received one and spamton noticed. but look he ended up keeping it after all. and is definitely not feeding the multiples to his employees

what are the ethics of pipis eating. not even spamton knows what the ethics are which is funny as hell ngl

[lucydixon]

Paging Mr. Procrastination

Eddie Munson Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Moodboard side-Blog

A/N: This is part Eighteen of my Welcome to Hellfire Series. I stg y'all were just gonna study in this one. Idk what happened 😭 Previous Parts: 1 𐴱 2 𐴱 3 𐴱 4 𐴱 5 𐴱 6 𐴱 7 𐴱 8 𐴱 9 𐴱 10 𐴱 11 𐴱 12 𐴱 13 𐴱 14 𐴱 15 𐴱 16 𐴱 17 Series Masterlist

Summary: Determined to help Eddie graduate, you make him study. Unsurprisingly, he is not being very helpful when it comes to concentrating, so you strike a deal. Warning: NSFW, Unprotected P in V, Hand stuff, Oral, Praise kink, Overstimulation

"What do you have to get on O'Donnell's final to pass?" You asked absently during lunch, breaking little pieces off your muffin while flipping through your notes.

The rest of Hellfire was crowded around the table, chatting amongst themselves and throwing french fries.

"At least a C" Eddie mumbled into his hand, huffing softly.

He'd managed to go all day without thinking about it and here you were reminding him.

"And it's just her final?" You looked up at him with a raised brow, not having missed the huff "All your other classes are fine?"

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze.

"Eds." You nudged him with your knee under the table "For real."

"Yeah, it's just the final." he sighed, gnawing on his bottom lip.

You didn't have to press to understand that he genuinely wasn't sure if he could do it.

"We'll study." You nodded, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "I'll make flash cards."

"You don't have to do that." He played with the cap of his pen.

There was a whole lot more than his diploma riding on that retched final.

It had been gnawing on him. Whispered by that voice at the back of his head every time he gave himself too much time to think.

What would happen if he bombed the final?

Would you still want him?

What if you didn't want a loser boyfriend who had to repeat his senior year for the fourth time?

You deserved better than someone too dumb to pass.

"Whoa." You frowned, having watched the abrupt shift "What's wrong?"

He just shrugged.

"Eddie," you reached for his chin to make him look at you, brows furrowed in concern "Hey, talk to me."

"What if I don't pass?" he sounded so small.

It made your chest ache.

"You will." You sounded so confident. Like it was a sure thing.

"I might not." He was really struggling not to pull away. He felt pathetic. "What if I'm just dumb?"

"What?" Your eyes widened "You're not dumb. Why would you say that?"

"This is my third time taking this class." He sighed, shrinking away from you, but you wouldn't let him.

"Eddie Munson, shut up and listen to me." You cradled his face before he could get too far and kept him right in front of you. "You are not dumb."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off before he could get a word out.

"You're constantly doing math while you're playing D&D, Yes or no?"

"Yeah, but-"

"You make those crazy elaborate character sheets and write what is essentially an essay for each one to describe the lore, Yes or no?"

This time he just nodded.

"You read all the time, write even more and you're good at math." You stared into his soul "You're not dumb, you just don't give a fuck about social studies, so you're not trying."

"You're smart Eddie. When you try, you really are." You cracked a little lopsided smile "Now, I'm gonna need you to stop talking about my boyfriend like that, I love him dearly and might have to fight you if you keep calling him dumb."

He couldn't help but laugh, leaning into your touch with a sheepish look.

"You really think I'm gonna pass?" Eddie asked softly.

"I do." You were confident enough for the both of you, so sure that he had to believe you. "We're gonna study every day this week and we'll both pass and in a couple weeks, neither of us ever have to set foot in this fuck ass school ever again."

"You've got a way with words, sweetheart." he chuckled, pressing his lips to your palm.

And so began the cramming for Eddie's final.

It just so happened that you also had to take it, so it made things a little easier when it came to convincing Eddie to take the help and actually focus. You just had to keep reminding him that you needed to study too and he'd begrudgingly get back to it.

It was near impossible to keep him focused and he'd managed on three separate occasions in the following two days, to distract you with a hand creeping up your thigh or his lips on your neck.

On day three, you made sure to sit on the other side of the room while reading him the questions.

Somehow, you'd still ended up in his lap. You weren't even sure how.

Eventually, you had to bring in the big guns and drag him to the library, where the two of you would have to behave unless you wanted to be arrested for public indecency.

He'd grumbled the whole way there after school and had huffed cutely when you insisted on keeping the table between the two of you.

"Eds, focus." You groaned when you caught him drawing on the back of his hand for the third time.

"Can't we take a break?" He gave you the puppy dog eyes and you were quick to look away before he got you with them. "We've been studying so hard."

"Baby, you're not even paying attention!"

"It's boring!"

A few people shushed you and shot annoyed looks over at your table.

"Sorry." you grimaced while Eddie scowled at them.

"Okay," You sighed, far quieter "I'm willing to negotiate."

"I'm listening." He leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin on his hands, propped up by his elbows.

"If you can sit there and pay attention until you get twenty questions right, you can do anything you want to me when we get home." You gave him a heated look, cracking the tiniest smirk when you saw the way he was gripping the edge of the table.

"You woulda let me do that anyway." Eddie challenged despite all the ideas popping into his head "This feels like a scam."

"Think about it." You leaned in, speaking lowly "I'm giving you Carte Blanche to do anything. You want me on top? Upside down?"

You watched his jaw flex and his eyes darken.

"Or maybe on my knees?"

"You want me in lingerie, giving you a lap dance?"

Eddie couldn't stop the soft whine that escaped his lips at the though. He was very quickly losing steam.

"Maybe you could use those little cuffs of yours," You were getting yourself a little worked up at the thought of it "have your way with me while I'm shackled to the headboard?"

You could tell that you almost had him.

"C'mon, Eddie, don't you want to be my Dungeon Daddy tonight?" You batted your lashes at him.

He made a choking noise, cheeks burning under your stare.

He could do 20 questions.

"Okay." He blurted out after another half-second of deliberation. "Yeah, I'll do it."

"Perfect!" You sat up straight and flipped through the flashcards like you hadn't just given him a raging hard-on in the middle of the library.

"You're Evil." He groaned, adjusting himself discreetly under the table "Little temptress."

"I don't know what you mean." You looked at him innocently, "I'm just studying."

"Don't worry, Sweetheart" He leaned back in his seat, smirking smugly "I'll remind you when we're done here. You're not gonna be able to speak by the time I'm done with you."

Your breath hitched and your thighs squeezed together.

It took Eddie less than half-an-hour to get through the questions.

You'd never seen him so focused.

You barely had time to pack up your books before he was dragging you out the door by the hand, eager to get you home and collect his reward.

He had you up against the side of the van in an instant, kissing you so hard that you could barely breathe.

"Oh, you're in for it now." He growled into your mouth, swallowing the moan that spilled from your lips.

Before the kissing could go any further, you were being tossed into the passenger seat and buckled in by Eddie and his wandering hands.

You shuddered when the door shut, already soaking through your panties.

Ten minutes.

You just had to make it ten minutes to see what Eddie had in store for you.

He didn't say a word, or even look at you while he was driving.

He couldn't. Not if he wanted to get you both back to the house in one piece.

You practically ran to the front door as soon as the van rolled to a stop, tripping over one another while you jammed your key in the lock.

Eddie's hands were all over you as you spilled into the entryway, groping you over your clothes, rough and desperate like he'd die if he couldn't buy himself inside you immediately.

But then he stopped, slamming the door shut and backing you up against it, cradling your face in his hands, gentler than you'd expected.

"I need you to listen to me." He muttered lowly, pupils blown with pure lust "Can you do that?"

You nodded, staring up at him.

Eddie let go of your face and grabbed your hand, holding it between your two heaving chests, palm facing the ceiling.

"You're gonna give me three taps if you need to stop." He tapped his forefinger against your palm three times, then twice "Two if it's a little too much or you need to slow down."

"One if you're okay."

You shuddered as all the possibilities of what he had in store for you flashed through your mind.

"Do you understand?"

You nodded.

"Repeat it back to me." He let go of your hand and held out his for you.

"One if I'm okay," Your voice came out breathy "Two if I need you to slow down, and three to stop."

"Good Girl." His lips twitched into a devious smirk when you whined, needy and desperate for his touch already.

"As much as I'd like to drag this out, I've got to fuck you before we really get started or I'm gonna die." Eddie muttered, unbuttoning your jeans hastily.

You shuddered at the prospect of the fucking not being the main event.

Before you could dwell on it, you were being led to the couch.

You went to sit on it, but before you could, Eddie yanked your jeans halfway down your legs and bent you over the arm of the couch all in one movement.

Two fingers slid into your heat suddenly and you let out a mewl, burying your face in the couch cushions.

"Soaked for me, Sweetheart." He groaned, undoing his belt with his free hand while working up a rhythm with his fingers. "Were you this wet in the library, sweet girl?"

You nodded into the couch, pushing back to meet every thrust of his fingers into your throbbing cunt.

"You poor thing." He cooed, pulling his pants down just enough to free his painfully hard cock, pumping it with his hand a couple times with a soft hiss "Just can't wait to get fucked, can you?"

you whined, ready to start begging, when Eddie slammed into you all at once, knocking the breath out of you.

He slapped his hand down on the couch, next to your head with his palm facing up and you tapped it once.

The hand found its way to your hip and he used it as leverage to fuck you hard and fast while you gasped and moaned into the couch.

"That's it." He grunted "So fucking tight- can feel you squeezing me- Oh-"

It was the first time that he wasn't playing with your clit or trying to make you cum at all really. He was just using you to get himself off quickly. Relieve the overwhelming pressure building inside of him before he turned his focus to you.

"I'm gonna wreck this pretty little pussy tonight." he panted, already close to finishing "Gonna spend hours playing with- Fuck"

His thrusts got sloppy as he pumped you full of cum, allowing him a few more before resting his forehead on your back while he caught his breath.

"Undressed and in bed." He told you, pulling out slowly and smirking when you whimpered at the loss of contact.

"Now." He gave you a sharp smack on the ass to emphasize the word.

Eddie chuckled at the startled, but beyond turned on look on your face.

You weren't sure where he got the confidence to be ordering you around like that, but couldn't deny how hot it was.

So, you complied eagerly and shuffled down the hall, peeling your clothes off as you went.

Eddie was also naked by the time he made it into the bedroom, only moments behind you and already at half mast just thinking about all the things he could do to you.

He was holding his belt in his hand and gazing down at you hungrily.

"How do you want me?" you were kneeling on the mattress, looking up at him through your lashes with a sweet smile.

It took everything in him not to fall to his knees.

"Every way I can possibly have you." He breathed, crawling into bed with you.

You gasped when he gently pushed you onto your back and told you to hold your hands over your head, fashioning the belt into a makeshift restraint to fasten your arms to the headboard

"There we go." Eddie sat back on his heels and admire the way your body was spread out for him

"So fucking beautiful." he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand before trailing it down neck, stopping at your collarbones.

"You're not gonna be able to tap my hand, so I'm gonna need you to say your numbers out loud for me." He looked down at you seriously "Can you do that for me, Sweetheart?"

You nodded, bottom lip trapped between your teeth and thighs clamped together in an effort to sooth the aching need between them.

"What are we at right now?"

"One." You held his stare and spoke clearly.

"Good girl."

God, he loved the way your entire body twitched every time he called you that.

"You're gonna keep being good for me, aren't you, Sweet Girl?"

You nodded, arching into his touch when he resumed his path down your chest, gazing down at you lovingly.

"Prettiest tits I've ever seen," Eddie hummed, kneading the skin gently, thumbs grazing your nipples lightly enough to make you shudder. "You're so fucking beautiful, Sweetheart."

"Can't believe I bagged the prettiest girl in Hawkins."

Your cheeks warmed, but the feeling of his lips grazing the skin just above your bellybutton was so distracting that once he started, you couldn't focus on anything else.

You were writhing under him, desperate for some kind of friction.

"Eddie" You whined.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" He cooed, smirking to himself "do you need something?"

"Please?" You pouted softly.

"Please what?" He wasn't touching you at all now.

"Touch me?" You tried.

"You want me to touch you?"

You nodded enthusiastically and he had to take pity on you.

"Here?" He ran a finger down your slit and you let out a sound that made his dick twitch.

"Yes" You hissed, hips bucking up to meet is hand.

"So needy." He teased, settling in between your legs to admire the mess of your slick and his cum still leaking out of you.

He dove in like a man starved, pinning your hips to the bed while he devoured you, lapping up the mess in between your thighs, cleaning you up and soaking the bottom half of his face in the process.

You were already shaking, chanting his name like you were teetering the edge.

"You already gonna cum for me?" He grinned, relishing in the sound you made when his tongue stopped working you over.

You nodded furiously, desperate and pathetic under him and he was only just getting started.

Eddie resumed his task, doubling down when you started whimpering, and groaned right into your pussy when you came hard, clamping down around nothing.

He didn't stop.

His tongue kept going, prolonging your orgasm, then even longer still once it was over.

You were a little sensitive, but more than willing to let him give you another if this was how he wanted to use his reward.

It could certainly be worse that cumming on your boyfriends skilled tongue over and over again.

A thick finger eased its way inside you and your back arched off the bed.

You moaned loudly, trying to shift your hips to feel him deeper, but he still had you pinned.

"Oh, god! Eddie" You panted, crying out when he added a second finger to the mix, still tonguing your clit like a mad man.

You came again, just as hard, and again, Eddie kept going.

"Give me another one." he smirked up at your wide eyes, nudging your clit with his nose while he tongue fucked you into oblivion.

Eddie checked in with you after the fourth orgasm tearing it's way through your body and you told him you were a a one.

You were sensitive and overstimulated, but it was so fucking hot that you couldn't imagine the night ending already.

"More." You gasped, throwing your head back when you felt his thumb brush over your poor clit.

After a couple more, it started to hurt, but you kept going, completely fucked out and cock dumb as you whispered once again that you wanted to keep going.

You just wanted to let him wreck you.

And fuck, did he ever.

You were a babbling mess by the time you started trying to squirm away from his relentless fingers and tongue.

He'd lost count of how many times you'd cum on his tongue ages ago, but he was very surprised by how much you could/were willing to take.

You had tears streaming down your cheeks when he decided to call it.

His tongue and fingers were cramping up and he couldn't even imagine how your poor, abused clit felt.

He was pretty sure you'd passed the point of even understanding what he was asking when he checked in.

You were with it enough to give a number, but he didn't want to actually hurt you, regardless of whether or not you'd let him.

Eddie undid the belt, cringing at the red marks on your wrists they'd left.

The handcuffs would've cut you up and you'd be bleeding if he'd opted to use them instead.

"You alright sweetheart?" He swept you into his lap and pulled you into his chest. "Did so good for me, sweet girl."

You nodded tiredly, nuzzling further into his chest.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up?" He rubbed your back "Don't fall asleep yet, we've got to get some food in you first."

"Let's start with a bath." Eddie cracked a smile when you hummed in agreement, scooping you up to set you down on the bathroom counter with a glass of water.

He ran the water for you while you slowly floated back down to earth from your high.

Once he'd helped you get into the warm water, He went to leave and your brows furrowed.

"Where are you going?" You whined.

"To make you something to eat." Eddie kissed the top of your head

"Later." You muttered, tugging him gently towards the tub "get in."

"You want me to get in there with you?" He raised a brow.

"Yep."

Despite being pretty sure that it was about to be uncomfortable as all hell, Eddie sighed dramatically and nudged you forward so he could slip into the tub behind you.

You made a soft happy little sound when you leaned back into his chest and he couldn't help but feel his heart swell.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but he couldn't deny how nice it felt.

"Usually I'm the clingy one one after sex." Eddie teased, kissing the back of your shoulder "Are you sure you're alright, Sweetheart? That was kind of a lot"

"Yeah, I'm okay." you melted into him "it was a lot, but I liked it. If I didn't I would've told you."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, my love." You pressed your lips to his bicep "I'm sure."

"Next time you have to get thirty questions right."

Eddie chuckled, excited to study for the first time in his life.

Dividers and Banners by me on my side-blog @dividers-are-us

Taglist: @walleloveseve @farrowroyale @givemiacookie @jeangeniex @cheesesandwichsanto @klutzylaena @mdurdenpitt @3sriracha @shokihomin @awkward00noodle @underatedgentlemencollector-blog @gxpsywitch19 @lexr86 @tanyaherondale @g3n3zshack @jjmaybankswifes-blog @be-gentle-with-my-potatos @kelsiegrin @justalotoffanfiction @s1mp-4-ga11y micheledawn1975 @zroberts13 @monkeylaura627 @graciereads @iith1um @eris-rose-86 @littlemissholy

[chromednova]

heyyy i have a request :) could you do alternative reader (black hair, tattoos, piercings, listens to heavy metal) being first time at the paddock and people are making fun her, that she doesn’t fit, and then oscar defends her while during interview someone asks nasty question? love your work!!

YES AS AN ALTERNATIVE WOMAN YES I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH

This might be long because it's 1 am but i know i have the inspo NOW LOL and also this didnt specify smut but ofc im a smut acc im gonna make it a lil spicyy

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort vibes (not really), Possesive and defensive Oscar, The media being...the media, Heating making out, Lando and you are nosey little shits and Lando is legit your best friend lol, Very aggressive praise(???), semi-public touching and thigh riding-ish (motorhome). And idk i'll probably forget something man LMAO

The stares—you’re plenty used to them. Being alternative has its pros and cons. The shiny metal along your face glimmers under the hot sun. You get just a bit too warm in your black clothing… the ink that shows along your body like perfectly placed birthmarks—like they belong there. Your bulky, yet sexy, platform boots pound against the ground, while Oscar’s feet are light and softly padded next to yours. The dark, deep perfume you wear drives Oscar up the walls every time he catches a whiff.

And then there’s the makeup and hair—Oscar’s personal favorite part about you. Some days, your hair is teased and highly styled; other days, it’s messy and loose like you’ve just had the best sex of your life. It pairs perfectly with your rough, smudged black makeup—like you took charcoal to your eyes and called it a day.

You’re seated in the McLaren garage during a media day, It's finally hit evening and you're having light conversation with Lando—wearing a tight-fitted, alluring outfit with sharp metal accessories and matching face jewelry. A gorgeous metal coffin clip adorns your hair, and your nails are done to vampiric perfection.

Just a few feet away, Oscar is mid-interview, answering general questions about his life. You’re content to ignore it—until you hear your name slip from the lips of the girl interviewing him. Your head turns slightly, curiosity piqued. Lando catches on quickly, and with a smirk, he also tunes in to the newly lit-up question..

“So… I do have to ask…” the reporter says, tilting her head with a look that shifts from soft to bitter and borderline offended. “Why on earth is a successful, talented, intelligent driver like yourself with what some would call a ‘Bad Luck Black Cat’ of a girlfriend?”

Oscar’s frame shifts from leaning in to listen to upright and pulled back—you can’t see his face, but you can already tell he’s beyond pissed off at the invasive and insulting question. Lando turns to you with wide eyes and a jaw dropped in shock, which slowly shifts into a massive smile of disbelief. Your own head snaps to meet Lando’s gaze with the same look, but instead of smiling, you stay perplexed and offended.

Lando’s about to speak, but he pauses, glancing over sharply before blurting, “Uh-oh, here he comes—” and as you're about to look over you're stopped by a large rough hand on your shoulder and Oscar's visibly vibrating frame leaned down almost hunched like a food possessed dog as he growls a whisper to you. "We're leaving—Come on."

Now you find yourselves locked up in the McLaren motorhome, pressed against the wall with Oscar’s meaty thigh forcing its way between your own—his heavy, angry breathing rippling across your skin as he bites and leaves sloppy kisses all over your throat and chest. You grab at his hair, your sharp nails digging into his scalp just right as he presses his thigh harder against your core.

“O-Osc—what—ah!—the fuck!” you whimper at his sudden roughness, only ever seeing this side of him after a bad race. You know he’s usually more in control, even when someone says something stupid.

“She called you ‘Bad Luck’… s’fucking insulting to you… Told her to fuck off and said you’ve done nothing but motivate me to push myself. Made her look stupid on a live broadcast.” You shiver at his words, a surprised grin spreading across your face. You go to open your mouth but are promptly interrupted by a breathy moan as Oscar’s hands move to grind you against his thigh—his head finally lifting to look at you. His eyes are blown wide with the need to prove that reporter wrong, his lips glossy with his own saliva, which you can feel drying on your chest and neck.

His words keep tumbling out, between kissing you hard and rough like a claim to show you just how much he prioritizes and adores you and your dark persona and that you do nothing but make him itch for more. "Just so pretty—such a pretty thing you are...my own personal eye candy whenever i want it.."

His teeth graze your jaw as he moves to whisper more filth—a grumbled laugh as he feels your knees buckle and your thighs tremble from him speaking ontop of how desperate your hips swivel down to grind on his thigh harder, He can sense just how close you're getting from just this. "She has no clue what she's talking about—you're a million times more cool and talented than me, i'm so plain and simple and you balance me so well by stealing all the spotlight with your appearance—fuckin' love how confident you look, s'fucking sexy."

Oscar's babbling goes on and on until you're shaking in his grip and gasping against his parted lips—now both loudly heaving into eachother, your breath mixing, minty sweet gum from Oscar and the cherry gum from your own mouth. One last needy whisper from Oscar has you gripping him for dear life as an orgasm washes over.

"Fuck just like that—use me like that, please you're so pretty like this—perfect like this on my thigh-"

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hi, hello! First of all, your blog is amazing and so helpful and inspiring!

I would like some advice, if it is possible. (no pressure!!) I'm 10k or 20k words into my fantasy novel, in first person POV (dual POV). And... I'm starting to want to write in third person POV now. That scares me tbh, because I'd have to rewrite all of what I've written so far. But it's complicated. Because I like both POVs, so idk what is the right choice. Both of them are "calling" me. What would you recommend? I have to make a drastic decision and it's honestly stressing me so badly. (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)(⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)(⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

first person vs third person POV: the eternal struggle (and why it's OKAY to switch mid-draft)

hey anon!! first of all, thank you so much for the kind words about my blog!! your message made my whole day.

okay so. the POV dilemma. the ETERNAL STRUGGLE. i feel this in my BONES.

okay, so the thing about being 10-20k words into a draft and then suddenly wanting to switch POVs... it happens to literally everyone at some point. it's like the writing gods are testing you.

why you're feeling this way (and why it's actually a good sign)

first off, this feeling of being pulled in two directions isn't a problem. it's actually a sign that you're deeply engaged with your story. your brain is actively processing different ways to tell it, which means you CARE about getting it right. that's the mark of a writer who's going to keep improving.

when both POVs are 'calling you,' what's actually happening is your creative brain recognizing different storytelling possibilities. first person gives you that immediate intimacy, that raw emotional connection. (first pov is actually my favorite, and default pov). for third person, it gives you flexibility, narrative distance when needed, and also the ability to show things your protagonist can't see.

the practical reality (let's be real........)

yes, switching means rewriting those 10-20k words. i'm not gonna sugarcoat it... that's a chunk of work. but let me drop some perspective.

20k words is approximately 80 standard manuscript pages

in the context of a full fantasy novel (which is like 80-120k words), that's about 16-25% of your first draft

you're going to rewrite significant portions anyway during revision (sorry not sorry, it's just how writing works.)

the actually useful advice part

instead of making this an either/or decision that's paralyzing you. here's some ideas i came up with on how you can possibly approach this problem:

do a test chapter conversion. literally take ONE chapter of your choice (doesn't need to be chapter one) that you've already written and convert it from first to third person. don't just change pronouns though, REALLY think about how the narrative distance shifts, what new opportunities open up, what intimacy you might lose/gain. this gives you ACTUAL information instead of just anxiety spirals. this is such a good idea, it's literally just like testing a patch of furniture before using a cleaning chemical on the entire furniture. all you're doing is testing it out (and of course do this test chapter in a SEPARATE document, depending on whatever software you use to write your manuscripts.)

identify your WHY. what specifically is making third person call to you? you need to ask yourself this because it can actually give you clarity and also help you determine the pros and cons of using third person in your book. is it: needing to show scenes your POV character isn't present for? (common use for third person) or is it wanting more narrative flexibility or feeling constrained by your character's voice? or is it wanting to show multiple perspectives more seamlessly? another thing to note is dual POV in first person is a bit difficult because you need to create a voice for each character (that's being used in the dual POVs) let's say character A sounds like character B, if character A's dual POV is in chapter 4 and character B's dual POV is in chapter 5, it might be hard for readers to identify the voice if it sounds super similar. so keep that in mind!!

the hybrid draft approach. (this is my personal favorite), so keep writing in third person from where you are now. don't go back and fix the first 20k yet. finish the draft with this weird hybrid POV situation (note: make sure you add some sort of indication separating the two POVs, like add a small note or maybe asterisks on your manuscript letting you know when this hybrid mix happens so when you go back and revise you can easily find it. ex: a note that says "chapter 4, after scene 40 is where i switch from first person to third person") then, when revision time comes, you'll have a much clearer picture of which POV serves the ENTIRE story better.

consider limited third instead of first. third person limited can give you almost the same intimacy as first person while offering more flexibility. it's like the perfect middle ground for many fantasy novels.

the secret that published authors will NOT tell you

you know how many published books started in a completely different POV than they ended up in? SO MANY. like, an embarrassing number. this is normal writer stuff. so please don't feel bad.

my friend's fantasy novel that got a six-figure deal? (she later dropped it tho) it started as first person, finished as third person omniscient, then got revised to third person limited. another writer i know switched POVs 40k words into their first draft and said it was the best decision they ever made.

what i'd do in your shoes

honestly? i'd keep going forward in the third person without rewriting what you have. get to the end of the draft. i mean it's a DRAFT for god sake, it's aloud to be messy and not ready for publishing (obviously). just see how it feels. the worst case scenario is you have a weird frankendraft that needs POV consistency in revision (which you'd literally be doing anyway).

the POV that's right for your story will become clearer as you keep writing. and if it doesn't? that's what beta readers are for. let them read both versions of a chapter and tell you which one pulls them in more.

NO WRITING IS EVER WASTED. even if you end up scrapping those 20k words (which you probably won't.) they taught you about your characters, world, and story. they got you 20k words closer to being the writer who can finish this book, YOUR book.

anyway i really hope this helps, this response was a lot longer than i planned it to be lol. your dual POV fantasy novel sounds amazing and i'm seriously rooting for you! don't let the POV paralysis stop you from moving forward! don't get stuck like how i did. literally i got stuck on a draft with 50k words just because of some writers block and haven't visited it in a year lol. so just know your story deserves to be told. even if it's in first person, third person, or whatever.

✨ keep writing ✨

rin t.

[contradictory-label-culture-is]

this was an interaction I saw on here and it pissed me off

(OP: "tranny girlfag boydyke" so you're bi and nonbinary.

OP: and annoying

REBLOGGER: careful!!! you'll make them all mad and have them screaming at you to go read queer history!!!)

... like?? No. Okay I use those labels (for an example) and it's not bi and non-binary. I'm a tranny (intersex cistrans man), a girlfag (I don't identify as a girl but sometimes my gender is femme & I like the word girl jokingly), and a boydyke (the trans part of my identity is "boy in a butch dyke way").

I'm not non-binary. I'm not Bi. And yeah these people should fucking read queer history. (This next/last part is a joke out of frustration, saying this so they don't get all pissed) shoots them with my laser eyes. acknowledge queer history and intersex identities or die.

I hate when people do that, like they try to make your identity "right" and make more sense but they mess it up because they make it make even LESS sense. Like how is a girlfag dykeboy a bisexual nonbinary person??? Like....I think it's because they hear faggot and think gay/vincian, and dyke is said to lesbians, so they think it's a gaybian thing and they think Gaybians are bisexual?? but still that's so weird.

Someone made a video about how weird being abrosexual was and someone in the comments asked what abrosexual meant, so op said that it was a sexuality that changed overtime/changed consistently. And another commenter said "So bi?" NOOO???? No actually??? If you ask most (←←MOST) bisexuals if their sexuality was constantly changing/fluid, I feel like they'd say no...so like what???

Also someone was saying straight lesbians are just bi under a post about them and I told them an example (which probably isn't how most straight lesbians identify but idk I thought it was a good example to start with) If someone is a man and a woman and is attracted to women, they might think that's hetro and queer! And do you know what they repeated? "Isn't that just bi?" NO I'M SHAKING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS!!

Any identity that's complex and has a slight hint of multisexual is called bisexuality, even when it makes ZERO SENSE. People don't like micro labels or contradictory labels, I swear they want everyone to only be lesbians (the "nmlnm" or "wlw" kind) gay/vincian, bisexual, and like maybe pansexual and omnisexual, trans and queer. That's it. Maybe some micro labels are allowed like neptunic....but they only allow it so they can say any lesboy is just neptunic.

Also whenever I see people say any kind of contradictory label isn't valid or that it's something else. There's always a commenter that says "oh no be careful! You'll make them mad and they'll tell you to read queer history!!" And they make it sound like...queer history is dumb???? Like yeah no shit, if you're gonna deny the experience of a label and say it's actually a different label, or say a label is invalid and transphobic/lesbian phobic/homophobic etc, they will tell you to read up on queer history? Like why are you acting like queer history is stupid and you shouldn't read it??? That's the part that always confuses me, and kinda pisses me off. Like hey, maybe reading queer history is good?

Also yeah, people tend to ignore intersex people when talking about contradictory labels and it sucks. like do they not think about how complex identity must be for intersex people? Well that was a rhetorical question, of course they don't.

[tennafics]

Hello! Love your work, Could I request Dad Tenna with reader who's dealing with an unwanted admirer? I don't mean it in a y@ndere or a&usive sort of way, just someone not getting the hint that "No I'm not interested, stop" mean stop trying, and Tenna being a protective dad about (Obviously reader wouldn't be a child here, but I wanted to clarify). Hope you have a wonderful day.

warnings: unwanted advances (bonus: uncle ramb idk it just sort of happened)

It'd been a day. You slouched on your Dad's chair, then checked your phone.

A chill went down your back. More messages from s Ohome damned creep that saw you on your Dad's show. They ranged....from...fuck, from EVERYWHERE. Flirty, stalky, downright threatening if you didnt respond- You whined.

Truly not wanting to worry him, you tried to ignore it, but...you're gonna have to bring your Dad in on this one. It's getting pretty messed up. He will not take this well. ...Why would he. You looked messed up.

"Luv, you okay?"

Ramb's voice made you jump in your spot, and you held your hands up to your chest. You shook your head.

"Aw, babe, w's wrong?"

Biting your lip, you thought about telling Ramb. He always was a good guy to talk to, and...oh to hell with it. With a small whimper, you muttered out your issue. His brow furrowed.

Ramb gave you a "show me" gesture for your phone, looking at the messages and scowling. Hard. He patted your shoulder, signaling for a hug. You dove in.

"That little-...Your dad will take care of 'em. ...If I don't get to them first, that is."

Huh. You never saw Ramb angry, but his face was heated. A smile crossed your face, and you pressed your cheek on his, making him let out a small "Oh!" in response.

"How about a drink, luv?"

Wiping your eyes, you nodded as he went behind his counter and made you something.

"There ya go, babe. Love ya."

"Love you too."

---

Tenna opened up the doors to the stage and looked around, about to speak but saw Ramb looking at him grimly. Oh no. No. It was with you- Gesturing around in a silent question, Tenna was pointed to the couch. He made his way over and peeked at your sleeping form.

Augh. As much as he didn't wanna wake you up...this seemed serious. So he nudged you. ...Nothing. Nudged you again.

"GUH-"

"WHAT'S WRONG?!"

"AGH-"

Tenna pursed his lips. Probably not the smoothest...way to do that. Oh, you panicked dummy. Way to go, you just scared your kid.

"Oh- I'm sorry, darling! I didn't mean to scare you!"

Two gloved hands lifted you up, and you scooted forward in them, reaching his chest. Your hands were on his tie. This...seemed bad, and anxiety bubbled in his stomach.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

You began. The comments. The notifications. All of it. You gave him your phone. His jaw dropped. Screen going to static at random. Scrolling the messages in your phone, he was speechless. Silent. The phone was dropped- Ah hell.

"Who... The FUCK," (Wow no censors) "IS SENDING MY GOD DAMNED ANGEL, THIS BULLSHIT?!"

Tenna held you close, kissing your cheek. He was losing his mind. He muttered something under his breath.

"I'LL TAKE THEIR LIFE MYSELF!"

A tug on his sleeve brought him back to earth. He smiled down at you, and he kissed your forehead. He really loved you. You smiled up at him.

"MIKE- EVERYONE! If you even gesture at making fun of my darling, YOU WILL GO INTO A MEAT GRINDER. GET IT?! YOU BETTER."

[allgoldenelite]

had a real giggle at this lowres pic so i made it into a wc3 autocast because i'm a child

[hyohaehyuk]

iwtv_updates: Jacob felt pressure adding lines to the Reunion scene, as Sam told him these would become canon for his Lestat. Rolin approached Jacob with the idea first, knowing Sam would dislike it. Jacob agreed, enjoying the opportunity to wind Sam up.

Video: INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE star Jacob Anderson unpacks the gothic horror of Season 2 | TV Insider

[riacte]

Re: colonization, the in-universe Clocktower / Clocktower Square is a replacement for Victoria Park / Queen's Road as the gathering place for protests. I was like "why is the English name for the place 金鐘 (literally: golden clock) Admiralty" and there's an existing clocktower in HK so I yoinked it 👍

I guess the cultural export of superheroes is a parallel to the export of HK film and music before the 1997 handover (RIP Leslie Cheung our bisexual icon) (again, this is a power fantasy)

HK is like, 90% ethnically Chinese. I had another superhero OC universe set in a HK-based city with a 90% Chinese cast but I found that boring so I switched it up.

Which led to a really weird interaction with IRL culture in the sense... I don't pay much attention to it beyond putting HK daily life in English words. And I don't really want/intend to? I wanted a homogenization of culture. Everything gets brushed aside because of the superhero dominance. It's about shiny new malls, shiny Instagrammable food, pop culture, capitalist interpretations of festivals. If you have superpowers, you're different. You're inherently better, no matter your race or culture. And you should give up your human culture to be with the homogenized superhuman culture. I'm not interested in digging up HK culture to market. I'm gonna use stuff from my daily life in the metropolitan city and interpret it in a broad way (which includes the shiny malls etc).

Weirdly enough, it ended up feeling like satirizing the American arrogance in the Anglosphere? 💀 "Set A, less noodles, no scallions, iced lemon tea with half ice and half sugar" is gonna be randomly presented to you in the way Waffle House is. I'm not gonna market or explain my culture. I'm just gonna shove it there. Idk. It's weird. The setting isn't HK anyway. Idgaf.

Haha it's so cool that adults tell me my city died before I was born and I will watch it "die" in 2047 or earlier. Or right now actually. Haha it's so cool. Anyway the fictional city gets torn down and rebuilt and torn down and rebuilt and—

I don't want to write poetry about this. I don't really want to sensationalize what I feel is a tragedy. This city is a shithole but I remember the cheap food and tofu pudding and Swiss wings and the MTR and heritage buildings and the typhoon culture and CNY fireworks and aircon and mosquitoes and cross harbour tunnels. I've never been deep into HK local culture because I'm so ✨Americanized✨ and ✨speak English all the time✨ but my life is still. A life.

The whole worldbuilding is an unrealistic power fantasy. The complicated history, culture, and colonial past of my real life city? Brushed aside. Don't think about it. Yippeee escapism 👍 think about chronically online fandom and shipping 👍 this is for fun 👍

Did not stop me from listening to 海闊天空 while writing this with deadened eyes

不知不覺已變淡心裏愛（誰明白我）

im soooooo emotion over dearly beloathed. it is so good as an epistolary work, and i genuinely feel like that format/style/genre worked really well for the story, it let us know the characters through how they portray themselves to others and who they are to different people/groups. i also loved how my understanding of Freth grew naturally over the course of reading it, I didn't notice until i was like "oh yeah that's just the culture there. ofc they'd do something like that" because it was so fluid and seamless.

every twist was well set up and just. it was crack-y and comedic, but those only made the emotional parts hit harder????

anyways. favorite random character/not main one. go! (i choose herohqphobic) also was there any like. reference or small thing (maybe characters who had different usernames across platforms or something?) that you loved and nobody seemed to notice?

i want to know. this is my new blorbo. entire fucking thing

Hii thank you for reading 🥺🙏

I could genuinely go on and on about Freth as a city because it's based after where I was raised, Hong Kong. The superhero genre is most commonly associated with American comics. It feels like their cities are either in USA or USA-inspired. To me there's subconsciously an inherent USA vibe even if that's not the actual case. I felt the pull myself before going, hold on, I live in a city, it's a pretty significant city, and theoretically superheroes can exist anywhere.

I'm of course biased on this but Hong Kong is an interesting city with interesting implications if you use it for a setting. And especially because it naturally seems so "cyberpunk". Densely populated, gives off the impression of being highly urbanised, but 70% of the land is not developed. Has a natural harbour, next to the sea, at the mouth of a river, but is hilly and full of scenic spots. Well developed public transport system (if the rail goes down for half an hour it gets on the news). The city with the most skyscrapers in the world, has one of the world's highest life expectancy (I'm still confused by this lol), ranked 4 in HDI for 2022 (also confused by this 💀 like we're above Denmark and Sweden?).

[Night view of Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong Tourism Board]

I wanted Freth to be busy, hectic, fast-paced, rich, technologically savvy. A glittering city with heroes for celebrities. Freth is an important port which is why the heroes fight so hard to protect its infrastructure for the ~economy~. But then the government decides the heroes are getting too powerful and culls the herd.

Anyways. I love all the random characters. Flora balefires_thighs had quite the arc pivoting from Tach anti to Tach fan (and is still bitchless, rip), but I have to go with arcussy because I love that name 😭😭😭 like Arucs is their babygirl meow meow grown adult son who cheated and got "cancelled" etc but it's fine ❤️ they still love his annoying ass ❤️

Small thing that didn't get picked up on! The location names! I based a lot of those on existing places in Hong Kong— Triple Shark Territory (Tsim Sha Tsui), Cannon Hill (Fortress Hill), Crossway (Causeway Bay), etc. Lots of these names have animals in them, like Dolphin Bay and Starlingfield, and these are based after real species that can be found in HK— except for one. Ravenwood. I don't think ravens exist in Hong Kong, making it fitting for an underground human experimentation lab. I don't expect anyone to know this though, it's more of a fun niche trivia for myself.

I don't know if this is obvious or not, but Cora has a crush on Archie. And Reina likes Cora while Lyra and Ben are doing their whole situationship thing. The consequences of crushing on your best friend.

Final note: the four main characters spell out Blue Bats. Blue for civilian names (Ben, Lyra, Uma, Ethan (he chooses this eventually)), and Bats for (future) hero names (Balefire, A??, Tachythanatous, S??). The year is also 827 because Aug 27 is when the MCC9 teams dropped lol. 🤡

Thank you so much for reading, glad you enjoyed it! <3 <3

[sysig]

You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.

Starring Role (Patreon)

[snekdood]

"if we make america worse and more of a dictatorship that will be even harder to unravel and make it the way we want the country to be, maybe then everyone will join our Glorious Revolution!" bb girl you cant even be in the same room with someone who thinks you should vote, how in tf do you think you're gonna unite people to fight in The Revolution with you? it's gonna be you and your 5 friends, i hate to break it to you.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s8 episode 16 “three words” thoughts

(kicks down the door) welcome BACK to this blog!!!

did you miss me? i’ve not had any time to watch an episode for a full WEEK. life is kicking my ass. but! the last episode was very good.

now, after a very good episode usually comes a very mid episode. and i just made a post listing all of the things i would like to see. i don’t expect that any of them will happen, but do expect me to stare at the wall and daydream about them. 

so! the description only mentions mulder today, which is a shame, as i want some mulder and scully time AND doggett, too, to see how he fits into their rhythm. but maybe i’ll have to wait?

anyway. mulder is back from the dead and breaking into government facilities… guess we are back to business as usual.

let’s gooooo!!

(post-episode thoughts: do NOT piss me off…

⚠️hater alert: mulder made me very angry today. and i will elaborate at length later in the post about how i understand he is going through a lot, but being nice to scully HAS to be everyone’s number one priority. i literally cannot fathom talking to her and the gunmen and skinner like that. omfg. i was LIVID.

NOW, do i expect a dude to go through all of that and come out well-adjusted? NO! not at all. but he was MEAN ASF, even to the people who BROUGHT HIM BACK! and again, i sympathize with his stress and his situation, but HOW DOES BEING NASTY TO SCULLY HELP?!

also?? the way he treated doggett?? confirmed sweetie pie special agent john jay doggett? who just wanted to shake his hand??? come ON, i’m PISSED! he’s a pawn of some war he doesn’t even understand, doesn’t know wtf is going on in alien land, and just wants to solve crimes with his friend scully!! give the guy a BREAK!! DAMN!!!

put mulder back in the ground. turn him off and back on again and see if that fixes him. damn…

i think it comes down to the fact that CC just can't write him. not elaborating.

BEFORE you pick up that large rock and start throwing it at me, mulder defenders, please remember that i have NEVER SEEN THIS SHOW BEFORE and IDK WHERE IT IS GOING!! maybe this will make sense down the road, but i am a journalist, and i must speak my truth.

considering trying to rush through my latest assignment just so i can get to the next episode and see if it redeems mulder a little... or should i really take my sweet sweet time with this assignment so i don't have to watch the next episode and see if he keeps acting in this way and bullying all of my friends? decisions, decisions...)

previously, on the x files….

we see scully crying at mulder’s grave again :( and then billy miles found in the sea… absalom’s voice…

(they really went heavy with the absalom features this episode and the last, so i’m wondering where that is going…)

john doggett yelling "WE SAW DA SAME BODY!" at skinner... scully resting her head on mulder’s zombie chest…. and then when he comes back to life… her gasp… YEAH, BABY!!! woo, that was good.

now, to the action of the day.

in washington, we see some guy. it appears he is going to break into the white house or die trying? he climbs over the fence…. springs onto the lawn. and is immediately surrounded. he claims he needs to tell the president something and please wait, wait, wait!

why did he think this would be the best way to do that… lmao 💀

he explains that aliens are taking over the US and then the dude shoots himself (it looked like an accident to me). he begs: “please…. the president” and hands one of the guards who tackled him a disk that says FIGHT THE FUTURE <- OHHHHHH!!!!!!

is this the real disk that CSM used scully to get and then switched out with a fake??

also, was the movie not initially called “fight the future”? because i have seen it just called “the x files”, and that confused me a little. did they rebrand it later on? what is the significance of this phrase at that point in time post s5 and also now?

anyway. okay. he hands his guy the disk. fade to the intro.

YEAHHHH, baby!!! the intro!!!! creepy images!!!! spooky song!!! new visuals!!! all of our friends!!!

maybe things will be good now :) probably not. but maybe. 

(author's note: 🙄)

mulder is in a hospital somewhere, touching his face. remembering the alien tortures. there’s a scar on his chest where they cut into him. and scars on his cheeks. 

i wonder how much he remembers… because scully didn’t remember very much until she did some hypnotherapy. maybe these are just flashes he has? or maybe he really recalls everything full force. i would be curious to know.

scully and a doctor come in. she asks if he’s okay, and he nods, unconvincingly. “for a guy who was, uh… in a coffin not too long ago, i think i’m doing pretty damn good” <- awwww :( poor dude “don’t quite have my legs under me… yet”

ohhhh, scully says he should sit down, because they have something to tell him…

YAY, HIS BRAIN THING IS GONE!!! i guess we’ll never know what went on there or what the point of it was, LMAO 

oh! and his scars seem to be repairing themselves! he says wow, drily. “how do you feel, agent mulder?” “like austin powers” scully laughs a little, seemingly nervous. i have never seen that film, so i don’t get the reference, sorry 💔

scully takes a bag of stuff and brings him to his apartment. he has not said anything about her being approximately 800 months pregnant, but they’re here in his dusty ass room. he looks around. says something looks different. “it’s clean”. 

oh, she’s nervous. and one of the fish died. “she wasn’t as lucky as you” ohhhhh :(

(imagining scully coming in to feed his fish… and the gunmen too… and doggett those couple of times…. like making an offering for his return. like saying a prayer. yowch. pain)

he sits down on his desk and she starts to talk:

“i don’t know if you’ll ever understand what it was like… first learning of your abduction… and then searching for you, but finding you dead. and now to have you back, and….”

he nods solemnly. “well, you act like you’re surprised” he says, forcing a smile. trying to lighten the mood with jazz hands. my baby :(

she says she prayed a lot. and her prayers have been answered.

(you know she is sensitive about the religion stuff, so she's really showing all her cards here... and it makes what happens next hurt more)

“in more ways than one” (glances down at her) “yeah” “i’m happy for you. i think i know…. how much that means to you” he looks away.

“mulder…” “i’m sorry. i don’t mean to be cold or ungrateful. i just… i have no idea where i fit in right now” OHHHHH, you fit in right here dude. i prommy.

“i just, uh…. i’m having a little trouble processing… everything”

NOOOOO, we jump to a prison... but i wanted to see what happened next 💔 is it gonna be all weird between them now!!!?

scully's gotta be beside herself with worry. he's back, but he is a shell of a guy.

well, whatever. we’re in west virginia now. a guy comes in with books for the prisoners. and he offers a book to absalom, who claims he already knows all he needs to know. book guy hands him one called “the coming apocalypse”. and inside is a newspaper article that has been cut out! it reads that a census worker was shot on the white house lawn…

his name was howard salt. skinner and doggett come into kersh’s office, where he is watching the news report on this. “people are so rarely what they seem” <- now what do you mean by that...

he tells them to sit down. scully has submitted an application to get mulder back on the x files. doggett is surprised: “i thought mulder just went home” <- LMAO 

“i wanted you both to see this before i deny the application” well. damn. that is cold. he sure likes a show.

he shows them a review of their x files performance… oh! he explains that doggett and scully have had more arrests on percentage than scully ever did with mulder!

doggett is confused. “impressive, sir? the only thing impressive about my work on the x files is that i even know what’s going on half the time” lmaoooo, bro is Puzzled.

skinner says that’s not very fair to agent mulder, when so many of his cases involve… “aliens? there lies the problem. the FBI isn’t a place for personal crusades. i’m asking you both to make that understood. on my behalf”

OH. kersh is MESSY.

doggett wants NO part of this. “well, you can’t ask me to tell mulder he’s off the x files. it’s his unit. he created it” “i’m not asking you, john”

WHAT THE FUCKKKKK? mulder is going to HATE doggett and it is not his FAULT!! why is kersh so comically EVIL?? i thought we were getting somewhere with him!??? is this doggett's punishment for going against him and wanting to stay on the x files???

bro just came back from the DEAD and is being taken off of his life’s work?? what’s he gonna do??? go get a job at taco bell??

doggett is rightfully gagged. he stands up. “you sent me to find mulder. i found him. don’t charge me with driving a stake through his heart” OHHHH, HE IS PISSED. he said FUCK YOU, KERSH.

but kersh just smiles. “maybe you’d rather i close the x files”

we need to find some dirt on this kersh guy and get him kicked out. there has to be something on him.

that shuts doggett up. kersh adds: “then we’d both be getting what we want”

doggett stares VENOMOUSLY at kersh. skinner tells him to go. i am concerned he is gonna throw hands right then and there. damn, his eyes are blue. they’re still staring at each other. skinner says we have to go NOW.

loaded statement there, with him implying that doggett wants off the x files... i need to turn this around in my brain. because clearly he doesn't know wtf is going on and feels like he can't do much on these cases, but he also has a deep loyalty to scully and to doing what he thinks is the right thing to do... so where does that leave him? does he actually want off? is kersh clocking his tea?

cut to skinner telling mulder the news, with scully here, too. he is. um. well. not taking it well.

scully hauls herself on his couch next to him and says she thinks kersh wants him to quit. skinner clarifies: kersh wants to punish him. hurt him. and mulder points out that it is supposed to punish skinner and scully, too. he thinks this started 8 years ago.

“i think the question is, mulder, are we going to sit here and let this happen?” she’s gonna attack 'em. she's gonna go attack pomeranian on their ankles. she's a good shot; they should watch out.

this makes him smile. “scully, you’re going to give birth in a couple months. you can talk as tough as you like, but you know and i know and they know that in a little while, you’re going to have more important things than whether or not the x files remain open”

he likes when she gets rabid over him. but she can’t deny his point.

skinner comes in with the even WORSE news, though: the x files will remain open, just under agent doggett. “agent who?”

scully sheepishly explains she had a partner: “he was assigned to help me find you” “mission accomplished” <- oh god, he is so angry about everything

“does he know what he’s doing at all, this guy?” 

mulder thinks doggett in on the theory to get him out of the FBI, but scully tells him doggett is “above reproach”. skinner points out he doesn’t even know anything about the supernatural. and mulder storms off to get dressed. he finally wants to get to work.

skinner and scully share an exhausted look.

no fair... i wanted to see the skinner reunion with tears. i wanted to see him explain why he had no choice but to try and take mulder off life support and for mulder to be like "nah, you're good". but i guess if he knew all of those details, he might be going even more berserk over scully being in danger from krycek... or maybe he is still processing that in addition to the being back from the dead thing

i feel bad for him :( he doesn’t know wtf is going on!!! and kersh is using the opportunity to kick him out!! he’s mad about everything!! what is he gonna do? go find a different job?? move away? find something else in DC? is he mad at scully and skinner and doggett and kersh or just the world in general or all of the above? how can we help him?! and poor scully and skinner don’t even know how!! getting him back has been done, but what next?!

sigh. kicks a rock with my foot.

back to west virgina. prisoners are doing road work. including absalom. he digs something up… while scary music plays. it is a piece of wood with a nail…. he slips it up his sleeve as the cops come to collect them. he runs and stabs one of the corrections officers and runs away as fast as his old man legs can take him, which doesn't seem very fast. all of the other prisoners cheer him on as he runs away from the cars. doesn’t seem like he’ll win this race, but who knows?

a train is coming… is he going to hop on the side of it? great depression style?? he runs in front of it and of course the cops can’t come after him in their cars because, you know, train. where is he going…

doggett comes home. i see a nice painting on his wall, and then his fancy stereo system. little decorations here and there. a nice lamp made of glass.

he’s sorting through his mail. turns the light on at his desk, which is right in front of his kitchen. there’s a framed sketch next to his calendar, and it looks to me like the calendar has pictures of the ocean on it. there is a diploma in a frame above that.

i love these opportunities to snoop on a character’s living space. brings me great joy. 

now, what is in his mail?

someone is behind him with a gun! it’s absalom! tf does he want?!?!

absalom tells him to get his head down, between his legs. he needed to make sure. had to check his neck. make sure he’s still himself. “yeah, i’m still me. so why don’t you put that weapon down?” <- bro is a pro at keeping his cool. 

absalom hands him the newspaper clipping. he says they killed him for what he knew, and they’ll kill him, too. he has one chance.

doggett leaps up, but absalom tells him to sit down. “you’re going with me. and i’m going to show you. and you are going to spread the word. doubting thomas is going to spread the word” “what word?” “the invasion has begun”

oh, well, this is gonna be a doggett episode! i can’t complain on that front. as for the alien invasion, is it starting? is that what the viruses and undead people are up to? idkkkk... and i’m not sure if i really care, tbh 💔💔💔

doggett doesn’t know wtf he is talking about, LMAO, and it’s making me laugh. “i don’t know what that means” <- it’s okay buddy, we don’t either!! absalom says he speaks in parables. he utters things that have been kept secret from the world. 

doggett's phone rings.

“on your knees, john doggett”

well….. 😏

things are not good for any of my friends doggett, scully, or skinner!!!!!! i wonder if this is doggett’s first time being taken hostage…

skinner is now briefing a room on this absalom fellow, explaining he is the leader of a UFO cult. scully is trying to call doggett… but no luck. 

absalom wrote “fight the future” on his cell wall before his escape, but no one knows what it means. he claimed to know about an invasion and the healing of abductees.

scully is in a suit. i wonder where you buy a maternity suit for the FBI. and she can’t reach him, obviously! and you KNOW doggett answers his phone. so this is not good.

where is mulder? the people in the briefing room are laughing at the claims of alien torture, and skinner isn’t pleased. he shows them the photos of teresa next. scully looks away. “the evidence of torture was real”

scully tries to call again while skinner orders the men out. 

skinner tells scully he cannot run this thing - it is obviously an x file. she replies that she’s on it. “i don’t know if this is going to make you feel any better”, she adds, then passes skinner her nokia, showing a text from mulder: “where is everybody? come on down” 

let’s get some RESULTS with my friend agent mulder!!! 

omg, if mulder first meets doggett by saving him from a crazy guy who abducted him… hell of a way to meet. also, he will probably get in so much trouble, but bro came back from the dead... so kersh has to feel like nothing.

the nokia is so funny. it’s a period piece.

poor scully. i know she can get results and i have no doubts about her capabilities as an agent, but damn, leading a manhunt in her situation has to SUUUUUUCK immensely. 

mulder is in his suit, feet up on his old desk, smiling: “who says you can’t go home again?”

skinner and scully arrive, and skinner is pissed: “it looks like you want to give them some real ammunition to use on you; that’s what it looks like” 

“hey, i am just down here visiting my buds” <- LMAOOOO, this made me smile stupidly. bro is mad af, but trust, he still has jokes.

he makes a joke about doggett, and scully says let's not get into that; he’s supposed to be running the manhunt right now.

oh, does it have to do anything with this photo of absalom? he asks, feigning innocence. because the guy who was shot on the white house lawn is in the photo with him. 

glad he’s back to being trouble. trouble is good for the mulder’s spirits.

he tells them that howard salt was a multiple abductee, looking to get to the president. 

he is mad as fuck, but at least he has something to do.

“you’re being paranoid, mulder. even for you” and it is no exaggeration to say that skinner growled those words

“you want to hear something really paranoid? the FBI gets its way, there’s going to be nobody down here to ask the paranoid questions. nobody to find those faces in those photographs. surely not this agent doggett”

well... not too much on the doggett slander, but point taken.

(cutscene to absalom taping a gun to doggett’s back) LMAO??? what is going ON?

mulder is jealous af, but at least his previously unspecified rage at the world has a direction to aim it in now, which i consider a win ❤️

scully looks deeply concerned as he gets up and stalks away. what to do with him? and all his fury?

but doggett! he wants to know if his head is gonna get blown up!

must suck to be an actor and read that the script says you have to take your shirt off, lay on the floor, and get a prop taped to your back. lmao.

absalom claims they’re going to get “what that man at the white house died for” then cocks the gun on his back. doggett still has no idea WTF is going on, but absalom tells him to concentrate on not screwing up and that they’ll both be overnight sensations. noooo, don’t put him on TV, he won’t be able to go undercover anymore 💔

mulder and scully sneak into the evidence room. “mulder, i know you know this, but if anything leaves this room, you could be in violation of the law” “really? when i was dead, i was hoping maybe they changed the rules”

he’s such a DICK, omfg... but i appreciate using his own death for comedic purposes. 

“mulder, just being here could be used by kersh as cause for dismissal” “then why don’t you shut the door so he doesn’t find out”

she can’t stop saying his name. like she can’t believe he’s back.

his suggestion to close the door wasn’t a question, and she does shut the door to look through boxes of howard salt's things.

scully tells him he’s been through something unimaginable, and these men have no credibility. “and since when has an x file not defied a certain standard of credibility?” he looks at her “at least, that’s the way it used to work”

her expression brings me so much sadness. bro, she didn’t cheat on you by getting a new partner, you died! don’t be mad at her!!!! look at her face!!! how could you be mad at her?? 

he must have realized he went too far with that, to which i say: GOOD.

“look, scully, i-i need to make sense of what happened to me, so that i can stop it. because if i can’t stop it, it could happen to anyone. it could happen to you. and who’s to say it’s going to stop there?”

well, that was pretty good emotional communication for him. a gold star ⭐️ 

his perspective does make sense. but what is there to do? get a disk and put it somewhere... and then what? revive CSM and he’ll have all the answers?

lowkey miss my bitchy friend CSM 💔 he was the source of all the drama...

“mulder, if you go down, the x files will go down, too. i mean, theoretically, they could put you in prison for what you’re doing here” (she says this while he is typing into salt’s computer)

“yeah, well, compared to where i just was, prison would be a princess cruise”

honey, you can’t go to prison and leave her a single mom... you have to think this through 💔💔💔

he bypasses whatever protections the computer had. scully can’t make him understand. she looks around and goes to leave. but he finds something weird and she returns to see what it is. “what are you doing?” “i’m going to book myself on that princess cruise” is he going to the gunmen?! a reunion?

she takes the data, omfg!!! “i’ll book it for you” HAHA YES! he smiles at this. she is just as crazy as him and we have to keep that in mind ❤️

absalom is walking doggett to… a building. the federal statistics center. and he is not walking suspiciously holding this other guy by the back at ALL (heavy on the /s)

doggett states his name and business to a security officer, and doesn't elaborate on who this guy with him is. 

HEY WAIT, I SEE HIS FILE AND THERE IS INFORMATION!!! wait, i can bring back one of my old bits!!!!!!!!!!

‼️DOGGETT LORE REVEAL‼️he went to SYRACUSE from ‘83-‘86 and got a masters in public administration!!! he got a J.D. (idk what that means 💔 i thought that was a lawyer word)

let's google this... "specifically, it is the planning, organizing, directing, coordinating, and controlling of government operations" now, that doesn't clear up much, but it sounds like he knew he wanted to do law enforcement sort of stuff?? maybe?? idk

okay so let's look up the JD part... wait, that IS a law degree? so did he want to be a lawyer??? did someone who designed the props not know how these things work or did he get a niche sort of degree? because i'm looking it up and only getting results on dual programs for public policy and a JD...

well. this will haunt me. now i have questions about scully AND doggett's time in the trenches of academia.

okay, so he made that joke a few episodes ago about not being oxford educated, but clearly he’s done the university thing!! don’t sell yourself short, buddy!!

and then it seems he went straight from there to the FBI academy. and also, he was born in georgia, but we knew that already. his service number is a6-27109. fascinating stuff. i paused again but couldn’t find anything else interesting to note💔

back to the plot at hand. doggett is screaming with his eyes for this guy checking out his file to press the damn panic button behind him, but he’s not picking up what he’s silently putting down.

the guy doesn't ask about the dude with doggett, which seems like a security risk, but he uses thermal scanning to see the gun on his neck. and THEN he presses the panic button. better late than never.

doggett tells absalom he doesn’t know where tf he is supposed to be going down here. absalom needs access to the census data. it has proof that they’re already here and among us. 

some guards come in and absalom howls that he has a loaded gun pointed at doggett. doggett is screaming at them to listen to him. when BLAM! they shoot absalom right in the head!!! the bullet grazes doggett's cheek!!!

woah. that all happened so fast. it was very close.

poor doggett has a big old gash on his cheek when he’s talking to skinner the next day.

he’s trying to figure out what the deal with the data was, and who the "they" who are here now are, when IN BURSTS MULDER!!

NOOOO!!!! DOGGETT STANDS UP TO SHAKE HIS HAND WITH A SMILE, BUT MULDER SHOVES HIM DOWN 💔💔💔 “i hope you’re not commending him as a hero for what he did…” skinner RIPS MULDER OFF OF HIM. says he is not reffing a boxing match.

doggett doesn't even know wtf he is mad about!!! NAURRRR, i feel so bad for him: “just what’s the problem here?” “problem? you occupy an office that used to be devoted to finding the truth, and now you’re busy burying it; that’s the problem”

MULDER, HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE CENSUS DATA, STOOOOP!!!!

mulder tells him he got absalom killed for what he was going to expose

now how tf would doggett lure absalom into taking him hostage...? arrange for him to get that newspaper clipping in prison and then leave his door open so absalom would break free and come get him...? like come on 💀💀💀

if there is gonna be this much tension, maybe they should just kiss it out and get it over with... damn.

he gestures to the wound on his face: “you see this, agent mulder?” i see you sitting there, agent doggett. that’s good enough for me”

so. they do not get along... LMAO (laughs nervously)

MULDER, COME ON!!! HE DOESN’T KNOW 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 bro is jealous as fuck, but poor scully is going to be mortified

skinner glares at him as he leaves. doggett doesn't know wtf to do. skinner tries to explain: “you’ve gotta understand what he’s been through. i mean, now he’s back, and you’re…” but doggett is already out the door.

nooooo, skinner has to deal with the kids fighting

that was so uncomfortable to watch... STOPPPPPP THE VIOLENCE💔💔💔💔

mulder comes to scully’s apartment- i think it's scully's apartment, at least; we don't often get to see the kitchen. and inside is frohike!!!! “you know, it’s really not fair. you’ve been dead for six months, and you still look better than me. but not by much” OHHHH, AND THEY HUG, and mulder puts his chin on frohike’s head, oh my GOD 

i needed that after how uncomfortable i just was. he pats his back, calls him melvin, and asks him to talk his hands off his ass. “sorry” <- LMAO

byers shakes his hand, saying they are all tremendously relieved. “and not just because we have big questions in your involvement in a certain blessed event” adds langly, with a look towards scully 

LMAO, OH MY GOD??? if i read that in a fic i would cringe at it being too on the nose, but nope. they went there in canon. BAHAHA, his face, omfgggg. he and scully just look at each other like 😐🫤

he looks like he just put together that he might have been in any way involved... i’m cryinggggg, he’s really pondering that shit.

(neeeeed to know how the gunmen reacted when she told them... wonder if she just waited like 6 months until they said something a little weird and then she was like "well, actually...." or if she was upfront with them... and if they have brought up his "involvement" before... many interesting possibilities)

scully changes the subject. they were able to decrypt the data… howard salt downloaded data right before he died from the federal statistics center, used by the census bureau! 

mulder tells the boys to get cracking, but langly has “never seen such a radical counter-defensive”! this is big stuff!!

after salt was shot, all the government firewalls went up. mulder tells everyone that he is right... okay, whatever. but they don’t have a password. they tell him he’ll have to let it go.

“oh, i see. someone’s been doing a little campaigning for her cause” <- HELLO??? do not be nasty to her….

“well, just remember, boys, this is america. just because you get more votes doesn't mean you win” lmao??? (i assume this was after the whole bush-gore debacle) and he turns to glare at scully.

hmm. i’m conflicted. i understand the suffering he is going through, but also: please be nice. but then again, how can you ask a dude who was dead for 3 months to be normal again? that’s straight up impossible. idk.

and poor doggett is walking in the rain with an umbrella when he sees someone running about, getting a sip from a water fountain. where is he going? is this water fountain guy an informant? is it mulder? is doggett just walking in the rain contemplating? tbh, he probably could use some walking in the rain and contemplating time 💔

who is drinking from this public fountain….?

it is in fact an informant: his buddy knowle from before. “they say you dodged a bullet” “you can’t dodge what you don’t see coming, knowle” so he DIDN’T know they were gonna shoot absalom. there. mulder was just being mean.

doggett also drinks from the water fountain and idk, i think they’re both gonna get diseases now 

is this knowle some sort of quasi-deep throat? he says he can’t tell doggett anything. doggett replies that he’s been accused of being used to get that man killed. “maybe i am being used and i just don’t know it. that’s what i want to know from you”

“i can’t tell you that, john, but i can tell you something. one thing you already know: these men are very good shots”

“what don’t i know?”

“three words”

omg… fight the future…!!!!

what does knowle know?! how does doggett know him? is he evil?? 

scully gets in a taxi to leave (i thought she was at her apartment? or is this a different time?) but doggett is here to see her. oh! she’s so surprised. “agent scully, i’m sorry to surprise you. i don’t mean to” “what are you doing here at this hour? you’re freezing cold” AWWWWWW ☹️☹️☹️☹️ she's worried about him......

he looks around. says he has something for mulder, but he can’t go up there - he knows he doesn’t trust him. scully sighs. it’s information about the convict. one of his disciples was the man shot on the lawn. yeah, he knew that, scully replies. but what he doesn’t know is that he had a disk he was trying to get to the president. and it had a code: fight the future

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN

scully comes back. mulder wants to know what is going on. “did something just happen?” “i’m, um. i’m not exactly sure i should tell you, mulder” <- she looks so uncomfortable... she doesn't know wtf he is gonna get himself into...

“scully, if you know something that can get us moving forward again, you need to tell me”

hmm. not sure how i feel about that response. 

(after further review, i think i feel NEGATIVELY about it 💜)

well, we know she can’t lie. 

back to doggett's place. he has his gun as he answers the door. it’s skinner! come in. 

he got a call from scully and she is beside herself. “over what?” you know damn well…

he got a password into a database with genetic information that the government was tracking... the same information the shooter at the white house knew about (at least, that’s mulder’s theory)

uh oh, is doggett busted? he wants to know why she was upset. 

BAHAHA, HE JUST OUTRIGHT CONFESSED TO GIVING HIM THE PASSWORD. oh god, i really do love this man. skinner asks where he got it from, and he can’t say.

skinner remarks he wonders who’s side he’s working on (yowch, that hurts, especially after their life-changing field trips). and doggett replies he’s starting to wonder that himself. 

and when doggett goes to call scully, skinner reveals he can’t reach either of them. so doggett tosses on his jacket. tells skinner he can’t reveal where he’s going or he’ll put him at risk: “you’re going to have to trust me on this” <- and you know that doggett does NOT fuck around when it comes to trust

LMAO, i just realized i started this episode 2 hours ago….. i have so much to say today!!

off to the federal statistics center. scully is driving the getaway car. when doggett knocks on the window. she jumps a mile.

“what are you doing here?”

“where’s agent mulder?”

“he wouldn’t listen to me” (GROANS......... why is he like this... the most stubborn man of all time, and she gets dragged into his schemes...)

“get out of here. get going”

“i can’t do that to him” (🙁)

“then do it for yourself” he reaches in, starts the car. this man is SERIOUS about keeping scully safe.

(more serious than mulder is, a part of me thinks rather nastily)

“look… i think i may have set you up”

“what?”

“you just get out of here now and i’ll explain it to you later”

her voice is hard now, which made me notice how soft it had been before: “no, you explain it to me now. set us up how, and with whom?” 

“with the same guys who shoot first and ask questions later”

he runs off as she yells after him

i can’t follow the twists and turns in this episode, but i did see that CC wrote it, so i guess that’s kinda a fork spotted in kitchen situation

so is he gonna burst in there and save mulder? will that make them allies or will they hate each other more?!

this knowle fellow was the same one who knocked scully out, arguably saving her, but stopping her from seeing what may have been hendershot giving birth to an alien… so can we trust him??

and why would he have the password, anyway?

i’m so conflicted about scully following mulder, saying she wasn’t able to stop him and coming along anyway because she won’t let him do it by himself. but she’s putting herself in danger.

it goes back to that s2 question: it has to stop somewhere. but where? why do her feelings on the subject get ignored? he claims he needs to stop it from happening to anyone else, even her, which is a fair goal, but how can he trust any of this information? he sure does trust strangers a lot for a guy who says to trust no one. and he totally ignores her advice and feelings. 

ughhhhh. anyway. back to the action at hand.

mulder has an earpiece and is talking to the gunmen as they hack into the system. he’s sneaking in past the security guy. the gunmen are dangling from wires. damn, lmao, they’re trapeze artists.

doggett is watching him go in… his brows doing that furrowy thing. 

mulder is going in, running for the data bank while the gunmen snip wires furiously. the doors unlock…. he’s in the data bank. he sits down. hacks into a computer. uses the code…… and finds lots and lots of files which he starts to send to himself. 

doggett pounds at the door and tells him to get out of there, but.... mulder just looks up at doggett and goes back to emailing. extreme levels of haterism going on here.

frohike hears doggett pounding and screaming for mulder and asks wtf that noise is. “just a fly buzzing around the window” YOU’RE SICK FOR THAT, OMFG…. 

doggett shoots through the door. he isn't fucking around. mulder is emailing the files to the washington post - files he thinks contain information that these people will be replaced with aliens. “you can believe whatever you want, but that information is never gonna make it out of here” “what are you gonna do, shoot me?” <- OMFG????

he came back from the dead a dick 💀💀💀

doggett was too stunned to speak. meanwhile, tons of vehicles are approaching, and scully calls the gunmen, who all answer their phones at the same time with a “hello?” <- LMAOOOOO

scully tells them something is wrong!! they have to get mulder out of there!!! “get him out of there, gunmen”

doggett stares at him. mulder places the blame: “you son of a bitch, you set me up”

doggett tries to grab him and get him tf out of there. but mulder tells him to get off of him.

“if i set you up, i wouldn’t be here trying to convince you to go. they’re coming to kill you; they’re going to kill me, too. that’s the set up” <- doggett is a lot more patient than i am, omfgggg…

langly tells mulder that doggett is right; he can’t get the data to go anywhere. he glares at doggett. but byers finds a way out??? maybe??? 

the soldiers come in. did they climb in the ceiling??? omg, yeah they did, bahahaaaaaaa 

on a different day, we see knowle again, running. getting a sip from the fountain. did doggett not come? is he done with him?

oh, he’s here: “you got two minutes, knowle. two minutes to give me one good reason why i shouldn’t put your name in lights. why i shouldn’t expose you for the lying bastard you are”

“hey john, nice knowing you"

OH, and skinner is inbound. doggett says if knowle walks, his name goes on all the wrong desks. “you asked me for information, i tell you what i can. what you do with it is out of my hands... you expose me, and then what? where are you gonna get your answers?” 

he says it isn’t about mulder. it’s about the truth. it’s all in the x files, right in front of him. he is just trying to point doggett in the right direction. 

OH SHIT… knowle bends down and has a BIG ASS LUMP IN HIS NECK!!!

so he’s an alien??

dun dun DUN!!!

the end.

well…. how long has he been an alien?

was he an alien the last time we saw him? or the time before that? because i didn’t see a neck lump them…. but there also wasn't a purposeful and dramatic cut emphasizing a neck lump before now...

doggett doesn't know what tf is going on, but i hope he cuts things off with knowle now that he knows his information can get him killed…

oh, how i wish i could have seen them climbing into that ceiling tile together….

kinda sick for them to go straight from mulder being dead to some mytharc nonsense. let me roll my eyes 🙄

okay, let’s think…. mulder was mean AF this episode!!! i get that he is processing, but omg, can he process kindly?? those things he said to scully were NASTY, and he doesn’t trust her about doggett at all, despite the man literally finding him!!

i was so sad when doggett stood up to shake his hand and he just shoved him down!!! and then poor skinner tried to make excuses for him and doggett ran off!!! i feel so bad for him!!

poor skinner, too!! working so hard to get him back and grieving for months and then he acts like this!!

i was literally dying when doggett fessed up to giving the code to mulder to skinner; LMAO, that killed me. he didn’t even try. then he said he can’t tell him where he is going. he can keep one secret at a time. 

i do feel bad for mulder for being killed and then coming back and having to deal with the fall out and then immediately being told he can’t return to the x files AND feeling that something terrible will happen and he needs to save the world single-handedly... but like. come on. when scully looked like she was going to cry, i wanted to cry. how could he ever be mean to her?? 

her voice was so soft today until it wasn’t. like she’s tired. she was so worried about doggett running down to see her 🥺🥺 “you’re freezing” <- i think i said aww out loud…

and doggett, who just got shot in the face over this crazy absalom fucker, meeting mulder for the first time and trying to greet him with a smile and a firm handshake... but mulder just SHOVES him, calls him a liar???? omfggggg???

i would get him doing that if scully hadn’t told him there was no WAY that doggett is a bad guy, but omfg. she told him that. and he completely disregarded her. and all of her other opinions on what to do. and accused her of turning the gunmen against him. and then when he has a stupid idea, she gets involved to save his sorry ass, even stealing the data for him because she’s a real one- but he doesn’t care enough to listen to her, so she is forced to come along on his stupid break-in mission even though she TOLD him it was a terrible idea because bro has no self-preservation skills and needs his ass saved AGAIN.

MEANWHILE, she is still super pregnant and has had a fuck ton of complications (does he even know that? it isn't like he asked!) and she's putting everything on the line for his dumbass schemes, and he has barely even acknowledged the fact that she is going through a lot on her own right now and that she shouldn't be getting into unnecessary danger at this point in time lest something terrible happen!!!! ARGHHHH, that idiot!!!! i thought he would have ANY sort of common sense and at least refuse to have her involved with the process of getting himself killed! but i guess she probably put up a pretty good fight to come with him... unstoppable force vs immovable object and all that...

if my best friend slash maybe gf was a few weeks from having a baby and nervous as fuck about that for all of the normal reasons people are nervous before giving birth plus the bonus reasons that people want to kill her baby AND it might be an alien, i would at LEAST have the decency to not tell her i was about to go do something incredibly fucking stupid so she can just chill and mind her business. but no. that's not how mulder works.

banging my head into a wall. chris carter, why do you want me to hate this man...

i thought the episode started out really promising, and i enjoyed doggett wrestling with his role as a pawn in the x files very much, and how he is trying to do the right thing and always look out for scully when he doesn't know what is right or wrong or up or down... but mulder pissed me tf off.

and like i said, i understand where he started to come from- something horrific happened to him and it could happen to anyone else, and he thinks he needs to stop it lest they undergo the horrors of alien torture you did- but like… oh my gosh. do we have to be mean to our loved ones in the process? like, come on!

scully literally BURIED your ass and then sat by you and doctored your corpse for DAYS while 800 months pregnant and you just... treat her like that. like her opinions are stupid and you can't trust anything she says because you alone know all of the answers. i could NEVER. i would be cherishing her and having her back no matter how batshit the circumstances.

smh. poor scully. you wanna talk about bullheaded, look no further…

doggett didn’t even know wtf the data was going on about! mulder accusing him of masterminding it… like he made absalom escape prison and take him hostage, omfg, give me a break…

hopefully he is just adjusting to coming back to life and the stress of the world maybe ending and that he will get nicer as time goes on... because i can’t stand to see him be mean to scully ever ever everrrrr. sometimes it is warranted, and you know i LOVE a juicy and well-written fight between them, but this just felt like his s6 bullying again. one-sided while she sits there and endures it. after enduring SO much already.

i feel like i ought to make the disclaimer that idk exactly where the plot is going from here and so maybe this writing will all snap into place and make perfect sense in a few episodes, but for now i can only speak my truth as i experience it. and you KNOW i'm not a mulder anti, so this is me just calling it like i see it. i guess all we can do is see what happens next? and maybe everyone will be able to talk it out and be happy? and mulder will apologize and then go to therapy for a while? idk...

😒

[zouisexo]

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