#post-IWTB

[unremarkablehouse]

Story post-IWTB? I'd like to know more about that, please!!

Ask and you shall receive, here’s the unfinished draft. I actually have the majority written but I forgot about the story, choosing to write fluff instead 🤣

It’s not like he wanted the world to end in 2012 or for aliens to come and attempt to reclaim the human race. He didn’t even feel remotely sad that he wasn’t the one leading the battle to thwart the attack, dying and becoming a fugitive really quashed any savior complex he had. As Mulder realized that the timeline had changed, there would be no intergalactic Armageddon, his life force began to fade. He had made plans for 2012, none of which he had detailed to Scully, but she knew he’d thought about it. In her mind she hadn’t fathomed that everyone one of his plans and contingencies involved getting their son (and his adoptive parents) and bunkering down with them. The longing and wonder that he felt for William was akin to his search for Samantha, and the hope of being reunited with him kept him going until it didn’t. 

The grief he felt for his son enveloped his entire being as his heart lay broken and beyond repair.

Of the taboo topics that existed in their relationship William was pretty much top of the list, tied closely with The X files or any mention of government conspiracies. So Mulder never talked about what had been eating away at him, trying to internalize the pain like he had watched Scully do and try to pretend that he was fine.

But Mulder was far from fine, with no one to talk to and nothing he could do to change the situation the pain became a constant ache that he lost the energy to hide, finding himself engulfed in the heavy fog of depression. Scully had never seen him like this, so withdrawn and not responsive to her. Suddenly her Mulder avoided looking at her, recoiled from her touch and started sleeping on the couch. She begged him to get help, pleaded with him to talk to her, but he couldn’t hear her over the ocean of distance that had been placed between them. She couldn’t understand that the sight of her, something that had always brought him immense joy and comfort, now filled him with so much guilt and dispair. In his heart he believed that she would have been better off if he’d have stayed dead and spent sleepless nights imagining how her life would have been without him. The life she would live with their son, her friends and family had a life time of love that would make up for missing him. In that life his son would grow up knowing his mother and hearing about him through stories, surely that would be better than never knowing them at all? These dark thoughts played as a daily continuum, a constant discontented soundtrack he was unable to drown out. If only he’d have been able to turn it down low enough to notice that Dana Scully was floundering. Like two trees that had grown together, Mulder’s depression knocked Scully off balance. Her confidence and faith in the world had been shaken and she found herself heartbroken and in a perpetual state of disorientation. Not wanting to alert her mother to the issues she spent the weekend in a hotel room by the hospital. It felt frivolous at first, but as she cried her way through a 1hr deep tissue massage she suddenly found this sense of relief. In her hotel room she didn’t have a sense of fear, not knowing what mood she was talking into. As her heart lay wounded and exposed she craved a sense of control. By the second day Scully heard herself laugh out loud and was startled by the sound. As she ate her breakfast alone in the hotel's restaurant, she regretted leaving her phone up in the room and was forcing herself to try and get interested in the local travel guide she’d pick up. A small poodle mix puppy had broken free of his leash and had made a frantic dash towards the smell of food. The puppy had been distracted by his owner calling for him to stop that he hadn’t realized he was on a crash course for Scully’s table leg until it was too late. Paws flailing as he attempted to slow did little to lessen the impact as the tiny dog crashed into the table with a thump, knocking a piece of bacon off Scully’s plate in the process. The look of absolute delight and dumb luck that appeared on the dog’s face as he discovered the bacon made her truly laugh at the first time in awhile.

[thursdayinspace]

fic: ellipsis

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3,758

So many thanks to @miskitbisquit and @calimanc for being amazing betas! I decided a while ago to turn all the headcanons for how they could get married into fic. This is set post-IWTB, so they've worked on that case, he's a free man again, and that's where this all starts.

Summary:

He's a free man again – it’s what they’d barely dared to dream. Now, she barely dares to ask him what he wants to do with his freedom. He doesn’t know.

Read on AO3

Tagging @today-in-fic

[picklejarred]

i think the most beautiful thing about the scratchy beard scene is actually the reverence that that man holds her in, like the pure and utter love in his eyes, fondness in his smile, i just

[atths--twice]

Worry and Change

Worry and concern can lead to an honest, and much needed, discussion.

Todays story is for Sabine, who asked for a look in at their life, post IWTB.

Hope you enjoy. 💓

Mulder heard the car door shut and he looked toward the door, waiting for Scully to walk in, eager to hear how Christian’s surgery had gone. 

However, when the door opened and she came in, he could see how exhausted she was by the slump of her shoulders. 

“Hey,” he said softly and she looked over at him, her eyes tired. 

“Hi,” she nearly whispered, setting her bag down and taking off her coat, laying it on the back of the couch. 

“How was-”

“I’m gonna take a bath,” she said, cutting him off, as she took off her shoes and dropped them at the bottom of the stairs. “I just…” She shook her head and sighed before walking up the steps, leaving him staring after her. 

The floorboards creaked above him and then he heard the water running as the tub began to fill up. He exhaled as he crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. Was it bad news or was it the stress and anxiety of the surgery itself? 

Whatever the reason, he decided to make her some tea to aid her in her ability to decompress. 

Filling the kettle with water, he placed it on the stove and turned the burner to medium. He prepared a travel mug with two bags of the nighttime tea, the water still running upstairs. The floorboard creaked again as she walked back and forth and he could picture her undressing and putting her clothes in their respective hampers. 

As the water continued to heat up, he took a plate from the cupboard and added strawberries, cubes of cheese, crackers, and a small bowl of almonds, sure she had not eaten much that day. He placed it on a cooking sheet along with a fork and some napkins. 

When the kettle started to whistle, he turned the burner off and poured the water into the mug. Adding a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk, he stirred it and then put the lid on to allow the tea to steep. 

He picked up the cooking sheet and grabbed the handle of the travel mug with his uninjured hand. Walking carefully upstairs, he went into their bedroom, gently pushing the halfway closed bathroom door open. 

“Knock knock,” he said softly, walking into the room that was lit only by candles. 

“Hi,” she said. 

“I brought you some tea- the sleepy one- and some food. Just some snacks. I wasn’t sure if you were hungry or not.” 

“Not,” she whispered as he set the cooking sheet on the counter. 

“Okay,” he replied, looking at her lying in the tub full of bubbles. “How about the tea for now?” 

“Yeah, I’ll take the tea,” she said and he walked closer, handing it to her. 

“The bags are still in. I can take them out if you’d like.” 

“It’s okay for now,” she said, taking a small sip. “Mmm. Perfect. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling softly. “I’ll leave the food there and if you change your mind, I’ll come back and bring it to you.” He started to leave, but she stopped him. 

“Don’t leave,” she whispered. “Please.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna-”

“I’m sure. Please stay.” 

He nodded, taking a towel from the shelf and placing it on the floor next to the tub. Sitting down, he stared at her, watching her drink another sip of tea. 

“Thank you again, for the tea,” she said in a whisper. 

“You’re welcome… again,” he said, tilting his head slightly. She looked at him and he smiled faintly. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head as she looked down at her mug. “Yes.” 

“Take your time,” he whispered, crossing his legs. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the tub. 

The day came pouring out, her worries and concerns for Christian tumbling from her lips. 

“But he’s okay?”

“Yeah. The surgery went well.” 

“That’s good.” 

“It is,” she agreed. Sighing, she lifted her head and looked at him. “It will still be a while before we know how he will be in recovery. If he will need another surgery…” She sighed again and he reached for her mug, setting it on the floor. 

“Do you think he will?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I hope not, but…” He nodded, knowing she had more to say. “I was so worried about him. About… what he represented.” She sighed, looking down as she ran her fingers through the water. 

“You saw William in him,” he said, recalling their conversation from a few nights ago. 

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “To be honest, I see him in many children.” 

“I know you do.” She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes sad. “It would be impossible for you not to, for many reasons.” 

“I think about him every day,” she whispered, tears shining in her eyes. “What he would be doing. What obsessions he would have. If he would enjoy baseball as much as you do. If he…” She let out a shaky breath and shook her head. “I see him in them. And I feel like by fixing them, it will help heal parts of me.” 

“Scully…” he breathed, placing a hand on the tub, letting her decide if she wanted to take it. 

“I can’t help it,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. 

“I know,” he said, nodding in understanding. 

“It’s different for you, I know.” 

“It is. And it isn’t,” he stated and she stared at him, her tears held at bay. “I agree it’s not the exact same. I didn’t have… I wasn’t afforded…” 

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand and nodding. “I know you weren’t given the same opportunity. And I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology. Not for any reason.” 

“Mulder,” she exhaled, the tears in her eyes spilling over. “I-”

“Dana,” he whispered and she choked back a sob. “You don’t owe me anything. I know why you did what you did and how it has affected you. You owe me nothing, Scully.” 

She grasped his hand tighter, nodding as she closed her eyes, crying quietly. He stayed silent, only squeezing her hand periodically, letting her release her worries. 

When she had calmed, she released his hand and ducked under the water, wiping the bubbles from her face when she had reemerged. 

“Would you like your tea?” he asked and she nodded. 

“Could you get me a hair clip first?” 

“Yeah,” he said, getting up and grabbing a squeeze hair clip. He handed her the travel mug and as she took a drink, he gathered her hair up in the clip. 

“Thank you,” she said, smiling softly at him as he sat down beside the tub again. 

“Not a problem. Is it okay? Not too loose?” 

“No,” she said, taking another drink. “It’s perfect.” He smiled and she gave him a faint one in return before she sighed heavily. “I should have ignored the request from the FBI. Should have told them to fuck off.” 

“No. You did the right thing.” 

“Agent Whitney is dead.” 

“Not through any fault of yours.” 

“No,” she agreed, shaking her head and glancing down. “But it happened nonetheless.” 

“It did. But… we saved that woman.” 

“And you almost died,” she said, looking at him again. 

“You found me,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You saved me.” 

“Thankfully,” she whispered back. “If I hadn’t…” 

“But you did,” he said, reaching out his hand again. She grasped it, holding tightly, the mug held in her other hand and resting against her chest. 

“It was too close. Too… too fast down the rabbit hole again. I thought…” She closed her eyes as she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know. That it would be good for you. To give you a purpose, instead of simply existing here.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, running his thumb over her knuckles. 

“I worry about you,” she said softly, looking at him. “I worry about so much recently. And then when I was there, back in those halls at the bureau, it was so familiar and I felt… like maybe it was where I should be. But then, I went back to the hospital and I knew I had to be there. That was, and is, my purpose. I couldn’t look into the darkness with you again. I couldn’t… let those monsters in anymore. I don’t want that for me. For you. For us.” 

He let out a breath as he contemplated her words, remembering how he had told her that he was fine with looking into the darkness. How it did not bother him like it bothered her. To see the evil in the world and try to make sense of it.

But then he remembered the cold of the shed, the smell of it, the sound as the ax broke through bone, and the realization that he had been about to die. 

Until Scully had changed everything. 

“No. I don’t want that either,” he said, glancing at his bandaged hand. “It might not be an overly exciting life out here, but… it beats the alternative.” He gave her a slight smile, which she did not return, her expression serious. 

“I don’t want those worries anymore. Not knowing where you are. If you’re alive. I want to know you’re safe and I’ll be coming home to you at the end of the day.” 

He smiled again, raising up on his knees, and kissing her softly. She placed a wet hand on his cheek, staring into his eyes as he pulled back. 

“I’ll be here.” 

“Good,” she whispered and he kissed her again. 

“Would you like something to eat now?” he asked and she nodded, moving her hand. 

“I’ll have a little bit.” 

He took her mug from her, set it down beside the tub, and picked up the cooking sheet from the counter. Handing her the fork, he held the sheet as she made her decisions, only eating a few strawberries, cheese, and almonds. 

She drank the rest of the tea and while she got out of the tub and dressed, he took the sheet with leftover food and the travel mug back downstairs. Putting everything away, he locked the doors and moved her shoes away from the stairs, before heading back up to the bedroom. 

He put on his pajamas and pulled the covers back on the bed. Scully turned off the light as she came out of the bathroom, patting his chest as she walked past him to the bed. He got in beside her, turning off the light and plunging the room into darkness. 

Turning toward her, she turned at the same time. He opened his arms, pulled her to him, and kissed her temple. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. 

“For what?” 

“Everything.” 

“Scully,” he whispered. “I know it’s been…” He sighed and she shifted with a quiet sigh of her own. “A lot happened in the past few days. And yeah, I’ve been… me recently, but we can fix this… start on a new page, so to speak. I know we can.” 

“Yeah,” she whispered, nodding against his neck. 

“We’ll get outta here,” he said, as he had that morning. “Get away from the cold and go somewhere warm. I read that it’s supposed to snow again soon.” 

“I’d like that,” she said with a quiet sniffle. “Somewhere with a beach?” 

“Absolutely. A beach is a must.”

“But not until I know that Christian is doing well,” she said and he nodded with a smile. 

“No. Not until you know he’s doing well,” he agreed, closing his eyes. “We’ll tough it out in the snow while we have the promise of somewhere warm and sunny ahead of us. You take care of Christian and I’ll take care of the plans.” 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking slightly as he hummed softly in her ear.

His hand tangled in her damp hair and she shifted closer, breathing his name. He kissed her head as he thought of them getting away from the cold and lying somewhere on a blanket in the warmth of the sun and the sand. 

[television-overload]

neither snow nor rain

(a short little X-Files fanfic)

Almost posted a headcanon that came to me this morning, then realized it worked better as a fic. So here it is:

Read on AO3

"What's this?"

"What?" Georgie asks, looking up at her friend.

"In the mail, check it out."

Quinn tosses a stack of glossy paper through the air, nearly knocking the gadget she's building off her worktable. It lands in a heap on top of her carefully organized wiring, and she shoots him an unappreciative look, to which he responds with a shrug.

"I thought that was out of publication," he says, nodding at the item he had so carelessly thrown.

She furrows her brows, adjusting her glasses before lifting it for examination.

As she scans over the words, her eyes widen, and she looks back at Quinn, now understanding his surprise at finding this in their mailbox.

"It's been years!" she says, flipping open the front cover of the magazine eagerly. It looks a little different, but the title on the front is unmistakable.

Quinn circles the table to look at it over her shoulder, obviously intrigued that this defunct publication had resurfaced out of nowhere.

"Wait," he says, reaching over her shoulder to turn back to the front cover. "That's different, right?"

His finger points to the title, and she squints at it, trying to picture the old magazines they'd stopped receiving about four or five years ago.

He's right to be suspicious. They don't give out their mailing address to just anybody, but this magazine had been pivotal in shaping their view of the world.

In fact, it was sort of how they met and became friends, probably more than a decade ago, at this point. It's not like it was a popular publication, like Time or People or National Geographic. When you see someone out and about with the same fringe interests as you, you can't help but gravitate toward them.

"The Lone Gunman," she reads aloud. "Wait, yeah, I think you're right. Wasn't it the Lone Gunmen?"

He nods.

"I wonder what happened. Maybe They got to them."

Georgie rolls her eyes. "Or they could have just parted ways. It has been almost five years, you know. Not everything has to be so dramatic."

"The editors of a conspiracy magazine?" he says, a disbelieving look in his eye.

"You never know," Georgie says. She'd always been the more rational one between the two of them. But, he has a point.

She opens to the front page again, and notes a number of differences between this and the old design from the late 90s.

The table of contents is there, just like it had always been. But instead of having a number of contributors listed (aliases, of course), each article appears to have been written by the same author.

F. M. Luder.

Well, hey, that's a name they recognize.

So, this is legit, after all.

The page is pretty sparse, other than that, but her eyes are drawn to a note at the bottom of the page, small and unassuming.

For the Gunmen. Miss you, guys.

Signed, your friend

"Man," Quinn says, letting out a breath. "See? What did I tell you?"

She's still not sure she's completely convinced, but she nods anyway, leafing through the remaining pages of the magazine.

"I wonder if I could send in that article I've been writing on the military use of extraterrestrial technology," Georgie says thoughtfully. "You think they still have that P.O. box for submissions?"

"Can't hurt to try," he shrugs.

She smiles, enjoying the feel of the freshly printed magazine in her hands.

"Now I just need to think of a good pen-name."

-.-.-

The house is still sparse, all scratched wood floors and peeling wallpaper behind its creaky doors. But it's beginning to feel like home, he thinks. Stacks of magazines line the walls where furniture should probably be, but they'll get around to that eventually.

For now, he's just enjoying not having to pack up and move every few days while constantly looking over his shoulder.

There's a small desk and a computer in the study, but that's about it. It's enough to keep him occupied while Scully is away. The place feels too empty when she's gone, but he knows it's a good thing. She needs to be around people, and now with her new job at the hospital, they've got a reliable source of income to work with, too.

His work is... more of a hobby, but he thinks it could bring in a little extra cash if people even bother with magazines anymore. A lot has changed since he was last an active member of civilization, so he really doesn't know.

The sound of gravel crunching on the driveway breaks the heavy silence that he's grown used to, and he decides to call it a day. The front room seems to light up with warm sunlight when she walks in, balancing a bag of groceries on her hip and a stack of papers in her hand. Her juggling act makes it difficult to pull the keys out of the front door lock, but she manages.

"Hi, Mulder," she says cheerily. She flicks on a lamp as she passes, and he watches her with the characteristic look of awe on his face that he always has when he's around her.

"I missed you," he says truthfully, entering her space to grab the groceries from her. He presses a kiss to her lips while he's at it, never one to pass up the opportunity.

Her free hand lands on his chest, its weight a familiar comfort to him, but he can feel the prickly edges of whatever else she's carrying against his stomach.

"What'cha got there?" he asks, glancing down at the papers. Envelopes, he realizes.

A playful smirk tugs at her lips, and she pulls away from him. Brandishing the envelopes in front of him like an offering, she watches intently for his reaction.

"It seems you have fan mail, Mr. Luder," she says, pride beaming from her face despite the raised eyebrow she levels on him.

His eyes widen, and he looks down again in surprise at the substantial stack of letters she carries.

"Really?" he asks, his voice cracking a little against his wishes.

She nods, and he thinks he detects a hint of tears gathering in her eyes, too.

"I stopped by the old P.O. box on my way home," she says. "I had a hunch."

"You?" he says teasingly, unable to restrain himself.

"I only opened one, but it seems your readers are thrilled to have you back, and they send their best wishes."

He chokes back an unexpected knot of emotion and feels a breathy laugh escape him.

"I can't believe it," he says, overwhelmed by the response to his attempt to keep his friends' memory alive.

She must find his disbelief amusing, because he recognizes her smile as one he's seen more times than he can count. "You're surprised?" she asks.

"Well... yeah." To put it mildly.

Scully shakes her head and sets her bag down on the threadbare couch, and he follows.

"I've read your case reports, Mulder. I think—and Skinner would probably agree with me here—you've found your calling."

He stands in stunned silence, for the first time in a while feeling that spark of passion reignite in his chest.

"Now if only we could get them to send me money," he jokes.

Scully tilts her head, flipping through the stack of letters to find the one she'd opened.

"They have," she says casually, as she withdraws a hundred dollar bill with all the air of a magician performing a trick.

His eyes widen comically again.

"You think there's more?" he asks, grabbing a few envelopes from her hands.

"Some of these are pretty thick, Mulder," she says, a knowing glint in her eye.

The tension in his shoulders evaporates, and he tosses the letters aside to pull her into his embrace. Any worry that he'd have nothing to do, no way to contribute to this life that he's all but trapped her in, goes away in an instant. Relief overtakes him, and Scully holds him tight around the middle, smiling proudly over his shoulder.

"They'd be so happy that you're continuing their work," she says, her voice unable to muster anything more than a whisper.

Words fail him, so he presses a kiss to her forehead instead, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

"I hope so," he says, glancing heavanward as if he might see the three of them flying around like little cherubs on his water-stained ceiling.

"I hope so."

-.-.-

Mr. Luder,

I'm terribly sorry for your loss. My friend and I are longtime subscribers of The Lone Gunmen, and we feared the worst when they stopped publishing years ago.

Receiving the copy you sent in the mail was a wonderful surprise. I'm sure we will be writing again soon to pick your brain on some of the details in your articles (is there really confirmation of a flukeworm-human hybrid in New Jersey?).

I didn't see a form to renew our subscription, but if you include it in your next edition (I do hope you'll continue!), we will happily send along payment with it, as securely as possible.

I hope this letter reaches you. Thank you for carrying on with this important work. We (your subscribers) truly appreciate it!

Sincerely,

Queen George (and Sir Quincy)

(P.S. I've attached a draft of an article I've been working on. You're welcome to include it in a future publication, if it meets your standards of approval. I'd happily welcome feedback, as well! If I recall, you're the expert on this particular subject.)

-.-.-

Tag list ♡: @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @slippinmickeys @teenie-xf @whovianderson

[deathsbestgirl]

did i never post this one fic idea...

mulder & scully go on vacation and stumble onto a case. but it's scully who keeps witnessing the paranormal (not religious) and mulder keeps missing it. she tries to ignore it. like just tells the authorities what she can and move on. but she keeps stumbling back in and eventually, she can't walk away. mulder pretends to be shocked at her working when they're on vacation, and at first he dismisses it as an x files but she's so insistent and he trusts her.

like chinga or tithonus but he's actually with her.

[carefulfears]

JUST NOTICED THE FISH TANK IN IWTB. EVERYBODY FREEZE.

[invidiosa]

Flashback Friday!

Tagged by the amazing @thatgirlnevershutsup. Thank you!

So I'm going back to 2010 with a post-IWTB story: In a Graveyard

Summary: He hated snow…Mulder attends a funeral.

Skinner shook his head. "You're unbelievable. Isolation has actually made you more egotistical. You must've been a joy to live with these last six years." One thing Mulder knew was that regardless of how many times Skinner threw everything aside to help him, there was only one reason he did it: for Scully. And this was Mulder's cue. "Thanks for the chat and for the cuddle the other night, Walter. Drop by any time now that I'm not a wanted man." Mulder started to back away. Skinner rolled his eyes and walked past him, back down to the path. "Get over yourself, Mulder. There's something here you need to see."

This was posted on LJ where it didn't get a lot of attention. It was after the heyday of e-mail lists and Ephemeral when we would get so much feedback for XF fics. So I felt like it flew under the radar. I guess I could move it over to AO3, but I'm lazy so it remains on my old fic site and on my old fic LJ.

Tagging @doctorhelena, @audreyroget, @lilydalexf, @leucocrystal, @lone-gunwoman-of-the-week, @rozf , @bowiecadmium and anyone else who wants to post some old fic!

[medicaldoctordana]

Title: All the Magic of a Prayer

Ship: Scully/Skinner

Rating: M

Word count: 1,400

Read on ao3

Scully sat with her ankles crossed at the bar. Her second drink of the night was nearly gone, mostly remnants of melted ice having struggled through her tumultuous rumination. Red tendrils were amassing with frizz, having had fingers run through them in worry. It had been a hard week at the hospital. The research phase was over now and the results were not looking in her favor.

Three of her patients were reacting poorly to the treatment, the two that had passed hours ago left her with a taste in her mouth that could only be resolved by a very strong drink. They also left her with a begrudging desire to call him- someone she hadn’t seen or spoken to in years. He had always been an anchor point for her, someone who was solid and reliable, someone who kept her steady.

When she looked up from her drink and saw him standing there, she felt like maybe Mulder was right once or twice. He insisted time and time again she had some kind of supernatural powers. Maybe she did conjure him here- sent out a cosmic message, finally mastered the art of telepathy, whatever.

The bar she was in was dark and filled with crisp button shirts and sleek black shoes. Scully let out a puff of air in a laugh to herself, they both fit in the scene with their professional attire, they dressed the part quite spectacularly. Her eyes raked over him, admiring the pull of his belt and how it framed his body.

He was speaking to a couple, looking like he ran into them there instead of arriving together. They looked like old friends and Scully took a moment to lament her lack of relationships like that. She never ran into people she knew, never got invited to weddings, and never grabbed coffee with an acquaintance. Scully wondered what it would be like to be one of those people. What it would be like to be known.

Sure, her research was gaining plenty of attention, and requests for consults were flooding her inbox, but those professional interactions remained as such. They didn’t exchange personal details, they didn’t show each other moments of personal vulnerability. No, Scully rarely did any of that anymore. Her family and Mulder were all she had. And since leaving Mulder not too long after the case with Father Joseph, all she had was work and all she did was spend time with her family or alone.

Watching the events before her, Scully decided she needed to change. She wanted to have those interactions. Scully wanted to be Dana again, at least for a few moments now and then. She sat up taller on her stool and uncrossed her ankles. Her ice melted with the final ruminating thoughts, and her drink was wordlessly replaced by the bartender. Her stare off in the distance distracted her and allowed him to sneak beside her and spook her.

“Dana, I’ve been thinking about calling you. Seeing how you’re doing. How…how are you?” The tenderness in his deep voice soothed her. It washed away weeks worth of stress and she found comfort in the familiarity.

“It’s funny.” She said before turning her head to look at him. He still wore his rounded glasses, still wore the same ties. She missed it.

“I almost called you today. It’s kismet to see you now.” Scully was drunk. She hadn’t eaten all day, except for a banana, and came straight to the bar after her last failure of a 7-hour surgery. Despite her rotten mood, she had just enough alcohol to be giggly and happy in his presence.

“It’s…wonderful to see you too, Dana. You look…good. Tired, but good.” Skinner could see the wear on her skin. He could tell she wasn’t her usual put-together self tonight and signaled a chaste goodbye to the friends he had run into. He wasn’t going to leave her side until she was tucked into bed safely tonight. Clearly, she was in need of a friend.

Scully tipped her head back and laughed, if he thought she looked good, then he should look in a mirror.

“Sir- sorry, Walter. It’s Walter now, you’re not my boss. You’re my friend. I don’t even work for the FBI! Walter! Walter, Walter. YOU look good!” Dana placed her palm on his chest and put on a mask of desire.

Skinner smiled at her reaction, he rarely got a chance to interact with Dana when she was in her more relaxed state. He liked how she held herself when she wasn’t being reprimanded for Mulder’s mistakes.

Scully and Skinner spent a few drinks reminiscing over the good ole days and learning the unknown side of memorable cases and harsh consequences. Scully really got to know how much shit Skinner shielded them from and how hard he worked to keep The X-Files open.

Then, stumbling through her front door, she wasn’t sure how she ended up like this. Skinner had her pressed up against the wall just inside her apartment. His thick quad supported her much smaller frame as she sloppily kissed him back. Reminiscent of their brief elevator kiss, these were much more needy and comfortable. She hooked her bare leg around his hip and pulled at his shirt to get it off.

Scully felt taken care of in his arms. They were new and exciting, while also familiar and calming. Her body felt loose, from the passion and the alcohol. With both their shirts now hanging open, they parted and panted, confronting what they had started in the cab ride over. His gaze asked for consent as he reached for her thigh and started to push her skirt up. Dana nodded enthusiastically and kicked off her heels before hiking her skirt above her hips.

Skinner kneeled before her, preparing to pray to her like a deity. He pulled down her simple dark panties and approached his sanctum.

Missing the hair to latch onto, Scully’s hands scaled the walls behind her as her body responded to Skinner’s technique. She thrust her hips forward, finding it hard to go anywhere else with his thick fingers dragging her closer. Feeling the pitch increase, Dana reached down for something- anything to hold on to. She found his shirt collar and was satisfied with that until he started sucking her clit and she pulled tight on his tie still around his neck.

Her staccato wails as she reached her climax regretfully slowed down his movements. Taking his time, Walter pulled away from between her legs only so he could kiss her thighs and push off the rest of her shirt.

Scully then found herself on her bed, watching her former boss remove his belt and stand before her in his white-e-tighties. She looked at him with an amused glean in her eye and laughed. She was having fun with Walter- he called her Dana and treated her with such kindness and reverence. While there was no thought in her mind about a romantic relationship with him, she could see them having fun now and again. Weren’t they calling it friends with benefits nowadays?

Scully unhooked her bra while Walter pulled off his underwear. He cautiously approached her bed, not knowing if this was a sacred space for her- if he would be rolling into someone’s saved space.

“We haven’t- not here,” Scully said without him having needed to ask.

“I didn’t want to-“ Walter started before Scully cupped his face and cut him off with a kiss.

Dana leaned back and pulled the man over her. She brushed her hand against his cock and smirked as he grunted and twitched.

“Dana, I want you to fucking rail me,” his gruff tone barked out. He pulled her hips out from under him and flipped them over so she sat upon him.

“Careful, Sir. That kind of language will get you sent to the AD’s office.” Dana swiveled her hips over him, teasing with both body and words.

His response was a grunt and throwing his glasses on her side table.

“But then again, I’ve always been one to heed my boss’s orders,” she drew out her words with swipes of her body against his.

As she suspected, Walter Sergei Skinner was packed to the gills.

[whenmuldermetscully]

Thinking about how right now Mulder and Scully have a 6 year old daughter…..

I really hope that if there is a reboot, that they’re not picking up where we left off on the dock. I’m too tired and don’t want to have to see Scully go through another traumatic pregnancy. The storyline already being what it is — just pick it up with the child already here and a bit grown.

Chris loves his monologues. Just recap us there

[nachosncheezies]

In defense of late-canon x files (including the revivals)

I was thinking about this poll after I commented on it, and I kinda want to be brave and say more.

Short answer to the poll's question before I go any further: If you're a new fan and a sensitive sort who thinks you'll struggle with your blorbos Really Going Through It and you really need a happy ending, I suggest you stop at the end of season 8. Do not pass go, do not look at spoilers. Disregard this post entirely, close the internet, and go look at something that makes you happy. (Also fuck every part of society that characterizes sensitivity as inherently weak and bad and some kind of personal failing, you are valid.)

That said, "quality" as a concept is entirely subjective, and the question of whether or not there's a decline in quality for any story is wholly subjective, too. In the case of x files? I'm not convinced there is a decline. I am going to be upfront that I haven't yet watched past season 8, though I am almost completely spoiled on events after that - and the reason I haven't watched yet is not because of how I know events are going to unfold, but simply because I don't want it to end!!! Ohh, the tension between "I CAN'T WAIT!!!" and "Nooo don't be over D:"

When I first came to txf fandom on tumblr and gradually became spoiled about what happens in late canon though, I was often left uncomfortable and tbh kinda queasy about it. As I said in my comment on the poll, the hate for especially the revival and IWTB, or to a lesser extent even seasons 8 & 9, is very well documented. But! There are other takes to be found here on tumblr if you figure out where to look, and my feelings have changed!

The thing is, I have yet to find myself in any fandom where there isn't a vocal subset of fans who dislike the story after a certain point. I am not joking when I say that no one hates the things they love as passionately as sci-fi and fantasy fans. In my experience, it often hinges on the extent to which a viewer has strong notions on where they would like the characters to end up. In particular with series where shipping is a dominant component for the bulk of a fandom, I have almost universally found that there comes some turning point in the story where "let them be happy you cowards" is the dominant view, and things that compromise the attainment of a degree of romantic stability and/or domesticity are, to many fans, annoying at best and despicable at worst. But! As one tagset on the linked poll said:

and I think for any fandom, that last tag especially is so so so important. (I think that's harder for people watching a weekly series live, bc you have so much time to analyze and speculate and dream before the next breadcrumb drops, but I digress.)

So why am I saying this and how do I apply it to x files? Well, I eventually found that there are also a subset of fans who find redeeming things right up to the very end and actually quite like the whole thing! The things that I had seen people rage and ventpost so much about honestly never quite sounded to me as "out of character" or "untrue to the story" etc as those same ventposts made them sound. And I've discovered I'm not the only one who felt that way. Do I love that the spooky squad had to go through all of those things? No, those poor guys D: Life is hard and they have been through so much trauma. But do those events and their choices make sense to me in light of everything that came before? Yes! And I honestly can't wait to see them fight to overcome those things, breaking, healing, always learning, always growing, always getting better.

So if you're wondering "where does it go wrong"... well, I'm a completionist, as many people who've answered that post are, but also my personal opinion is that I don't think it does go wrong. If you're new and interested in exploring why I've gone from "vaguely queasy" to "excited" about the whole thing, or want to maybe balance out the impressions you're getting about the later seasons before deciding whether or not you want to see the whole thing, I'll put a few blog names in the comments.

Final admission: even once I started feeling a little more confident in the possibility that "actually ok maybe I'm not crazy, maybe this all kind of is in character and does make sense", there was one big plot point that I was NOT looking forward to and I thought I would never be comfortable about. In hindsight, I think my discomfort came from the negative responses being SO seemingly universal that I hadn't stopped to let myself truly consider other possible interpretations on that point. (I mean my initial instinct when I first read about it was, why are we mad about this?? CSM is literally the most unreliable narrator in history???? it's obviously fake news?????? this must be either a fever dream someone's having or it's a misdirection ploy against whatever shadowy forces might still be lurking?????????????? but for whatever reason I guess I had halfway written that off.) Happily, just last month there's a new post-s11 novel out, and although reviews for the book as a whole are mixed, it seems to have laid the groundwork for resolving that plot issue in a way I think most fans would be broadly happy with. If you're interested in being spoiled about that and seeing how, I recommend searching #perihelion on @agent-troi who liveblogged reading it with receipts, scroll back chronological-style to the first post on the subject and see how it unfolded. (And never forget that Dana Katherine Scully is the queen of denial as a coping mechanism lol)

Everyone's mileage will vary. Each person can feel however they want! But for anyone new, I wanted you to know that the very many ventposts you might be seeing are not all there is to this show or its fandom. Some of us love it despite - or even because of - all the things that went "wrong". I think we just don't talk about it as much.

[randomfoggytiger]

Do you have a list of comfort fics? Not them comforting each other but for when you're feeling wrecked and you just need something lovely to make it better?

randomfoggytiger's Comfort Fics

I'm not joking: I've reread more fics than I'll ever read new ones. My usual routine is to pop open Google docs, select an author, and mow down their list.

These three pieces were the ones that started it all; but I forgot to include @seek-its-opposite's photosensitivity. A+s, all of 'em.

Authors that I can't single out comfort fics from and can't tag because Tumblr is restricting my tag options: @baronessblixen, @settle-down-frohike, @onpaperfirst, @markwatneyandenesemble, Lapsed_Scholar, Apostrophic, @ghostbustermelanieking, @o6666666, touchstoneaf, @welsharcher, @scenes-in-between, @mldrgrl, @spooky-nerd, @melforbes, etc.

**Note**: Will ghost edit later~

PART I

Bittersweet Comfort Fics

misslucyjane's Scully seeks insomnia advice from Mulder, and Mulder dies, then lovingly watches Scully live the rest of her life

Kipler's cancer arc set casefile involving WWII vets and letters

melforbes's cancer arc Mulder takes his new bride to the sea for her last spring, and Pre-IWTB Mulder and Scully finally have a home

MldrItsMe's AU Redux II Scully is REALLY suffering, and Sein und Zeit Mulder's suicidal confessions

@discordantwords's Mulder and Scully are almost killed by the Fiji mermaid

mixiz877's Mulder and Scully fight off a gryphon

@fbismostunwanted1158's Scully is beaten down ala Stella Gibson in The Fall

Joyce's S5 AU Mulder is killed, comes back to life to save Scully, and Mulder dies but stays as Scully's partner solving cases with her (Part 1, Part 2, and-- my favorite of the three-- its Halloween sequel)

@teethnbone's post Travelers fic with Mulder and Scully

@sarie-fairy's AU Tithonus love confession, Post Milagro Scully realizing what it feels like to be Mulder, and Post The Unnatural Scully is bleeding out on a failed Sasquatch hunt

@sigritandtheelves's Post Monday Scully remembers Mulder's death

whatliesabove's Post Milagro Scully stays dead (or does she?)

ChaneenW's Pre-IVF arc Mulder is shot into a parallel timeline, reliving the Small Potatoes adventure with Scully

dee_ayy's post Amor Fati recovery fic (with baseball)

@bohoartist's Sein und Zeit through Scully's eyes, and Post Closure Scully rescues a photo of baby Mulder

Lolabeegood's AU where S8 Mulder is returned with false memories (would also recommend Lolabee's IWTB era fics, btw.)

@dreamingofscully's AU S9 Skinner entices Mulder back into profiling... and it doesn't end well

@television-overload's Pre-IWTB Mulder surprises Scully with a baseball field (and his old self again)

@queeenpersephone's AU where IWTB Scully stuck it out with Mulder

@danascullysjournal's Post IWTB bonding fic between a discouraged Mulder and uplifting Scully

@kateyes224's Mulder and Scully content in their UH, and Mulder sells the UH, and Scully buys it

@realmofextremepossibility's Breakup Mulder waiting for Scully's return Part I and Part II.

vulcanscully's Post Breakup Scully stops hearing from Mulder and assumes the worst

enigmaticdr's AU post IWTB Scully thinks she has cancer again (she's pregnant), Breakup Mulder is defeated at their anniversary dinner, AU where Revival Scully gets cancer, and The Revival baby laughs for the first time

prufrockslove's AU Mulder is a Welsh prince, Scully is his betrothed bride, and lots of Prince John high court drama ensues (part I of a sweeping, interconnecting AU series)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[atths--twice]

The Pull of Poetry

Mulder has a fun little surprise in store for Scully.

Happy Fictober everyone!🎃 Today kicks off the first of many stories that I'm excited to share with you all.

Hope you enjoy!

January, 2010

“What’s that?” Scully asked, pointing to a small plastic bag on the table. 

“Oh that? Nothing,” Mulder answered, picking the bag up and pocketing it. 

“Nothing?” she answered, smiling with an eyebrow raised. 

“Yup.” He nodded and winked at her as she shook her head. 

“Fine. Keep your little secrets.” 

“I plan to. For the moment anyway,” he said, smiling again. 

“Alright. You have fun with that. I have to get going.”  

“Yes, dear. Have a wonderful day.” 

“Goodbye, dear,” she said, rolling her eyes as she stepped closer and tipped her head back for a kiss. He smiled as he bent his head, meeting her halfway. 

“You want anything special for dinner?” he asked and she pulled back in surprise. 

“You’re gonna make something?” 

“I could. Or I could pick something up.” 

“That might be safer. And more edible.” 

“Hey,” he said, pulling her to him and locking his hands around her back, keeping her close. “I’m not a bad cook.” 

“Hmm,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him with a smile. “I think the pan we had to replace, and that one pot, would like to have a word about that statement.” 

“It didn’t catch on fire.” 

“No,” she laughed. “Just burnt to the pan and wouldn’t come off. And then no matter what was done to it, any food cooked in the pot still tasted burnt.” 

“Huh. I’ll pick something up,” he said, making a face at the memory of the burnt pot taste. 

“Good idea,” she said, patting his back and chuckling softly. 

“Any preferences? Or should I surprise you?” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes as she raised an eyebrow. “Surprise me. You know what I like.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed back in response, as she opened her eyes, rocking them gently. “That I do. In so many aspects.” 

“Yes. You do,” she said, bringing her arms from around his waist and placing her hands on his chest. “But, let’s leave it at food for the moment as I have to get going.” 

“Yes, dear,” he said, smiling as he bent to kiss her again. 

“Okay. I have to go.” 

“So go,” he said, making no move to release her. 

“Mulder!” She laughed as she squirmed in his arms. “Don’t make me kick your ass.” 

“But you know I like that,” he said, nuzzling her neck and growling softly. 

“Mulder… I have to go.” She laughed again as she moved to the left and he let her go, smiling as she shook her head. “You always do this right before I have to leave.” 

“Do what?” he asked innocently, knowing full well what she meant. 

“You know, Mulder,” she said, shaking her head again as she smoothed her hair down. “Your timing could be better.” 

“I’ll remember that,” he said and she chortled. 

“You won’t.” She stepped away and he followed her to the door, helping her with her coat. Handing her her bag, he kissed her again. 

“Goodbye, my darling,” he said and shook her head. 

“No. Darling, will not be tolerated.” 

“Okay, sweetie pie,” he said as she opened the door and stepped through it. 

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. 

“My main squeeze?” 

“Mulder,” she said, laughing as she walked down the stairs. 

“Baby doll?” 

“Mulder, I will make myself vomit,” she said, looking back at him over her shoulder. He chuckled as he followed her down the stairs. 

“My one and only?” 

She opened the back door and put her bag inside. Closing it, she looked at him and he smiled with a shrug. 

“Your constant? Your touchstone?” she asked and he hummed as he stepped toward her, pulling her in for a kiss. He dipped her, his hand tangling in her hair, as she held onto his arms, laughing against his lips. 

“That will never change,” he said, kissing her once more, righting her and making sure she was steady on her feet, before letting her go. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, patting his chest with a smile. “And you are mine. Always.” He grinned, nodding as he stroked her cheek. 

“You need to get going.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Well then,” he said, stepping back and away from the car. “You have a good day… my touchstone.” 

“You too,” she said, opening the door and getting inside. She smiled as she closed the door and started the car.

Rolling the window down, she beckoned to him with her finger. He stepped forward and leaned down, placing a hand on the open window space. 

“Yes?” 

“I love you,” she said, squeezing his fingers as she smiled. 

“I love you too,” he said, smiling as he squeezed back.  

“Just wanted you to be absolutely sure.” 

“Thanks,” he said, kissing her once more before he stood up and stepped back. She nodded and put the car in reverse, watching him as she backed up. 

“Goodbye, my darling,” he called to her and she laughed as she shook her head, putting the car in drive and waving as she drove down the driveway. He grinned, waiting until she was out of sight before heading back inside. 

Taking out the small bag from his pocket, he smiled at the words he could see. He walked to the kitchen table, set the bag down, and then stood in front of the refrigerator, looking at the magnets upon it. 

While there were not many, the ones they had were from places they had bought when they had been on the run. Not having space for bulky items, magnets were easy to slip into a pocket or a bag. 

They had one shaped like a Ferris wheel from a harvest festival in Wyoming. Three ponderosa trees clumped together with an orange tent beneath them from Montana. A Bigfoot in the forest in Washington state. Two smiling cactuses wearing sunglasses from Arizona. A covered wagon and old fashioned windmill from Oklahoma. An idyllic village encapsulated within a snow globe from Wisconsin. And his favorite was an alligator, onto which Scully had carefully written Big Blue upon its back, from Florida. 

Things were held up with the magnets- a shopping list. An article he saw in the paper that he knew would make her laugh. A picture he had taken of her as she stood on the porch early one morning, staring out at the yard. A couple of restaurant menus. Ticket stubs to a sci-fi double feature they had attended on his birthday. 

He sighed as he began to take them all down, laying them on the table. They would be going back, but he had something else to put up first. When it was all cleared, he opened the plastic bag and dumped out its contents. 

Spreading out the small rectangular words, he smiled as he began to figure out what he wanted to create. 

Happy love with you 

My heart skips 

Thoughts are bright 

Me us forever 

Burn

Soft skin taste 

Touch 

Frantic whisper worship 

“Hmm,” he hummed, suddenly finding himself aroused by the thoughts in his head. “Gotta keep this PG or I might find myself in trouble.” He cleared his throat, trying not to think of the way Scully whisper-moaned his name as she approached climax. “Goddamn man…” 

He spread out all of the words, his thoughts still on Scully- her smile, the feel of her lips, the softness of her skin, her taste, the way her breathing increased, and the feel of her breaking around him. 

When he had arranged and then rearranged the words, he stood back and looked at what he had created. 

Smile

Laugh 

Skin 

Soft and light 

Kiss like a cloud 

Touch taste whisper 

Love burn red hot 

Slow body worship 

Heart mind soul symphony 

You me tonight 

Forever  

My darling 

He nodded, happy with the result. Especially with the last word, beyond ecstatic when he had seen it. 

Moving the words from the table and to the refrigerator, he lined them up in the center of the freezer door, spacing them apart in places. He smiled at his handiwork, nodding as he then replaced the other magnets and the items they had held. He kept them on the refrigerator door, the poem he had made front and center. 

Putting the remaining words into a stemless wine glass beside the refrigerator, for the moments when inspiration hit, he glanced repeatedly at the poem, smiling each time. 

Deciding to straighten up the house, he started with the laundry, rotating a load from the washer to the dryer. He hummed as he went about his tasks, running the vacuum when he was done. 

Hours later, the pizza from Giano’s warming in the oven as the salad chilled in the refrigerator, he heard the car door shut, announcing Scully’s arrival. Grinning, he turned off the light in the laundry room, the next load tumbling in the dryer. 

Walking into the living room, he waited for her to come in, glancing quickly at the refrigerator, anticipating what she would say when she saw it. 

The door opened and she walked in, carrying her bag and sighing as she rolled her neck.

“Hey,” he said and she raised her eyes to his, sighing again. 

“Hey,” she replied softly. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. “It smells good in here.” 

“Giano’s. Pizza.” She tilted her head and he smiled. “And a salad.”  

“Good man,” she said, setting her bag down and taking off her coat. “I’m really tired. It was busy today. Had some unexpected meetings and long conversations with some parents. I didn’t eat lunch and that pizza smells delicious.” 

“Well, perhaps I could interest you in a couple of slices, some salad, and a glass of wine?” 

“Yes,” she said with a nod, her eyes closing briefly. “Let me wash my hands and I’ll join you.” 

“You got it, hon,” he said and she gave him a look as she passed him. 

He smiled, walking into the kitchen and taking out plates, bowls, and silverware. He opened the wine and poured her a glass, glancing at the refrigerator again. 

“Sometimes I wonder how we ran on little to no sleep and skipped meals for days at a time,” she said, coming into the kitchen. “I feel drained from one shift these days.” 

“We were younger then,” he said, handing her her glass. 

“We’re not that much older,” she said, frowning slightly as she raised the glass to her lips. 

“Hmm,” he said with a shrug. 

“You’re older,” she stated and he grinned. 

“By three years,” he said with a small chuckle. 

“Well… older is older,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she shrugged. 

“Hmm,” he hummed again, licking his lips. 

“It looks nice in here,” she said, taking another drink as she looked around. 

“I did the laundry too.” 

“Did you-”

“Yes, I hung your delicates.” 

“Good man,” she said to him again. “I don’t see any pizza on my plate.” 

“Let me remedy that,” he replied, stepping toward her and staring at her lips. She smiled and raised up, kissing him softly. “You get the salad.” 

“Okay.” 

He stepped to the oven, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he took out the pizza and set it on the stovetop. She set her glass down, reached for the refrigerator door handle and pulled it open. She took out the container of salad and set it beside her glass of wine before taking out the bottle of salad dressing. Closing the refrigerator, she sighed as she shook the bottle. 

Opening his mouth to ask her how she missed it, he watched her look at the refrigerator and then at him. 

“What?” 

“What?” he parroted back, trying not to smile. 

“What is this?” she asked, setting the bottle of dressing down. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Smile. Laugh. Skin. Soft and light. Kiss like a cloud,” she read, glancing at him again. He smiled and nodded, encouraging her to keep reading. “Touch taste whisper. Love burn red hot. Slow body worship.” Looking at him again, he saw her breathing increase. “Heart mind soul symphony. You me tonight. Forever. My darling.” She laughed at the last word, looking at him and shaking her head. “Is this what you were hiding from me this morning?” 

“Maybe.” 

“I love it. Heart mind soul symphony,” she read again. “Forever.” 

“My darling,” he said, stepping closer to her. She laughed again as she looked at him.

“Did you know that was in that bag this morning?” 

“Nope. What a crazy coincidence, huh?” 

“One could even say spooky,” she said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“One could. But should one?” he asked, pulling her close. 

“You crazy, crazy, spooky man,” she said as he smiled. 

“There’s a glass of words just there,” he said, nodding to it and she looked at it with a nod of her own. “In case you felt inspired to create something as well.” 

“Perhaps after I eat,” she said, looking up at him. “And have a couple of glasses of wine.” 

“Drunk poetry is always better than sober poetry.” 

“I don’t know. I like what you came up with. Especially touch taste whisper.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mmhmm,” she said with a nod. “But I’ll need a rain check to show you how much I liked it.” 

“Rain check given.” 

“Thank you… darling.” 

He threw his head back and laughed as she laid her head on his chest and hugged him tightly. 

“Oh, Scully,” he said, kissing the top of her head as they swayed gently. 

Dinner eaten, her eyes closing from time to time, revealing how tired she truly was, he smiled when he suggested she take a bath while he cleaned the kitchen. 

“Thank you,” she said, brushing her hand across his back as she went upstairs. 

He brought her a cup of tea and her wine when he went upstairs, giving her the option. She took both with a tired smile and he chuckled, bending to kiss her head. 

Not wanting to go straight to bed, he suggested a movie and she agreed, though he knew she would most likely fall asleep before it made it further than the first few minutes. 

She laid on the couch with her head against his leg, his fingers running through her hair, when he heard her breathing even out and he knew his thoughts had been accurate. He smiled as he continued watching the movie, rubbing her scalp gently. 

When the movie was over, he woke her and helped her stumble up the stairs to bed, covering her and kissing her goodnight. 

“Hmm, night… darling,” she mumbled and he chuckled, kissing her again. 

“Love you,” he whispered and she hummed, putting her hand under her pillow. 

He went back downstairs, double checked the locks, and brought their cups of tea to the kitchen sink. Stepping to the refrigerator, he did a double take at the words he had put up. 

Four of them had been taken out and placed below his poem. He did not know when she had done it, but the sight of them made him smile, knowing his purchase of the poetry magnet words would be worth every penny. 

Love you forever 

Darling 

[thursdayinspace]

Btw I don't believe they broke up directly after IWTB. I believe it took them a few more years. But it's where they realize that there are problems beyond anything they've admitted to themselves to this point. It's not enough to break them yet, but it's most likely a point where they're no longer able to lie to themselves -- all is not well.

They'll try to avoid talking about it because they don't want to break what they have. They'll have fights about inconsequential things in place of fighting about the real issues. They will overcompensate, pretend to be happier than they are, and wear themselves thin with the effort.

But they won't admit defeat there and then. I don't care about what's supposed to be canon or not. That's the version of events that makes sense to me.

This moment. This kiss. The amount of things going on here. It packs such a punch. This is a turning point, and this is an instance where they are not communicating their true feelings and know about it. Because what they need to say is simply too difficult. They are well aware of the cracks in their relationship, but they love each other too damned much to deal with them. Which is so human. I mean, do I like the fact that they're heading towards separation? Of course not. Do I buy it? Absolutely.

They have been through so much. Trauma heaped upon trauma. Death, death scares, abductions, the loss of their child, everything they've seen and done. On top of that now, there is his isolation. Nobody can carry somebody else's happiness on their shoulders all on their own. It breaks you. It's too much. But those two have always been there for each other. Always. And the very fact that they only have each other means they can't acknowledge the fragility of what they have, not even their own fragility, because they're aware of the other one's wounds and don't want to burden them with theirs, for fear of breaking the only thing they have.

And at this point, they know they have been quiet for too long. They have arrived at a point where talking simply won't fix it anymore. And what is so painful about that is that they love each other more than ever. All of that is in this moment. He tells her they can go away, just the two of them. He's begging her to stay, to turn their backs on everything and start over. She looks at him like she wants to believe him so badly, wants to believe that they can run from the darkness.

That kiss is so heartbreaking and beautiful because it's hope and despair at the same time. He's telling her that he knows things are broken between them, but they're still them, they've always made it through everything together. And she's telling him that this isn't them anymore. She wants to stay, but she just can't see how. The one thing they agree on: they don't want this to end.

The way she's crying into the kiss. The way he is so gentle with her. It looks like a kiss goodbye from her, and from him it looks almost like a wedding kiss, as if he'd just promised her forever. And in a way, he has. And in a way, she has too. It's an affirmation of love, of undying devotion, and of clinging with all their strength to something that they can feel slipping away.

They are still so desperately in love with each other, and they can't imagine being apart for even just a day. But the sad truth is that love is not always enough. They have taken terrible care of themselves. Just like you're supposed to put on your own oxygen mask first in the event of a loss of cabin pressure, you have to take care of your own well-being if you want to be able to take care of somebody else. They need each other like they need air. But they also can't go on like this.

I firmly believe that post-revival, they will be together forever. They will get their happy ending. But after everything they've been through and after years of pretending like they can take care of themselves and each other, it makes sense for them to arrive at this point. And still it is heartbreaking to see. They are it for each other. They're each other's person. But sometimes, that is not enough. (And sometimes, you still find your way back to each other and finally find a way to make it work. And they will.)

[television-overload]

Field of Dreams

(an X-Files fanfic)

Part I

Mulder's favorite movie inspires him to fill his seemingly endless free time with a special project shortly after moving into the Unremarkable House.

I was reading a bunch of fics about dad!Mulder and baseball, and had the sudden realization that my favorite baseball movie of all time is so Mulder-coded, that it would 100% be his favorite move too, full stop. And thus this was born. It seems all my X-Files fanfics are going to be accidents, none of them planned.

Read on AO3

She should have known this was coming eventually.

The well-worn VHS had been sitting on the coffee table for the last two weeks, in the living room of their new, unremarkable house.

Kevin Costner. James Earl Jones. Ray Liotta. Baseball and dreams and ghosts and time travel and the healing of broken father-son relationships...

It was his favorite movie, but for reasons so personal to him that he never spoke of it, instead claiming that Caddyshack or Plan 9 from Outer Space was his top pick if anyone asked. She'd never even known he had it until she woke one night to find him downstairs watching it alone in the dark, his face lit up by the flickering images on the screen. He said nothing, but allowed her to sink into the cushions of their shared couch beside him, curling into his side. They watched it together in silence. No words needed to be said, after all. She knew him well enough to understand what this movie meant to him. As the credits rolled, he flicked the TV off and the living room of their creaky house was enveloped in darkness once again.

He'd been lonely here at home. He tried not to let it show, but she knew anyway. It was only recently that they'd finally been able to settle down, purchase a house out in the middle of nowhere while she put her medical degree to good use. But while she was away, he was left alone with his thoughts for hours at a time, nothing but the peaceable silence of the Virginia countryside to keep him company.

There were certainly signs she should have picked up on. Dirt under his fingernails. A splotch of grease on the corner of his sleeve. The smell of gasoline on his hands when she came home from work and was welcomed with a kiss.

He wasn't sitting idly in his office all day, that much she knew.

But it wasn't your run-of-the-mill yard work he was busy with, either.

He seemed happier. She tried not to question it. For the first time since they'd moved in, he seemed more like himself, and she saw a future where they could be happy here, establishing a comfortable routine and finally getting started on living a somewhat normal life.

She came home one day to find Mulder a couple hundred feet from the house, wrestling an overgrown chain link fence with his chosen weapon of a pair of bolt cutters. He waved at her with a smile, and she felt her heart flutter. She wouldn't ask what he was up to, not yet. When he was ready, he'd let her in on his secret.

A week later, he was in the small shed behind the house, drenched in sweat but seemingly gratified at the work he was doing cutting wood planks with a hand saw and sanding them down to perfection.

Some days he wasn't even there when she pulled into the driveway, and though she missed the way he would run up to her like a puppy to welcome her home, she was glad he'd found something to pass the time that made him happy. She secretly appreciated the flush of color on his face and sweat stains on his t-shirts when he finally made his way back to the house in time for dinner, bounding up the stairs for a quick shower before joining her at the table. It was a side to him she didn't see often before, what with his white-collar job and Armani suits. He'd even acquired a thin layer of facial hair in recent days, having forgotten to shave, and she couldn't bring herself to be mad at his new rugged, manly look. In fact, she quite enjoyed it.

Scully was napping on the couch, exhausted from another long day of work, when she felt a hand on her shoulder shaking her awake.

"Scully, wake up," a soft voice spoke, "I wanna show you something."

"What's that?" she slurred, her eyes blinking open blearily. His hands cupped hers and pulled her to her feet, steadying her on her wobbly, half-asleep legs.

"Come on," he said, and he tugged her toward their back porch door.

The first wisps of crisp fall air danced across her face as she stepped into the backyard, following Mulder with her hand clasped comfortably in his.

"Where are we going, Mulder?" she finally asked. They'd passed the boundary of what she traditionally thought of as their backyard, and were now traveling down a trail through the tall, wild grass that filled their sprawling property.

"You'll see," was all he said, but she saw the gleam of enjoyment in his eye and the way the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

The sun had begun its retreat to the horizon, the longer days of summer beginning to fade into the shorter ones of autumn. The sky around them was painted in vivid oranges, yellows, and pinks, the aftermath of a brief storm that had passed through. The earthy, fresh scent of the air filled her lungs, and she was once again in awe of the peace they'd finally been able to find, after all they had been through together. She squeezed his hand tighter.

As they came up over the hill, she saw it.

Freshly turned dirt, darkened with moisture from the rain, in the shape of a diamond. The grass was mown short, weeds removed until it perfectly mirrored the well-manicured outfield of any respectable baseball stadium. There were wooden benches on each side of the field, set up in raised tiers so that hypothetical onlookers could see above the heads of those in front of them. And the chain link fence had been modified and built into a decent impression of a backstop behind home plate, which appeared to be made of a burlap bag of sand. Beyond the outfield, the wild grasses and flowers grew up tall, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Scully felt a tear slip from her eye, and she quickly lifted a finger to wipe it away.

"Did a ghost tell you to build this, Mulder?" she asked, the hitch in her voice betraying the emotions that laced her joke.

He smiled and pulled her into his side. She hadn't noticed the baseball jersey he wore before, but it brought back fond memories.

"Yeah, actually, but it turns out the Lone Gunmen don't have an ounce of athletic skill to spare, so it got boring pretty quick."

She let out a watery laugh, wiping more forcefully at the moisture on her cheeks before turning back to him.

"Well, are you gonna show me around?"

He grinned and took off, walking backwards toward the field with a spring in his step. As they approached the field, this field that he had built, he paused to grab something out of a dirt-encrusted wheelbarrow that sat adjacent to the tall grass. From behind his back, he produced a baseball glove and a wooden bat, offering both to her.

"You pitching or batting first, Scully?" he asked, the fire of purpose, of passion in his eyes for the first time in a long time.

She smiled and grabbed the bat, which he used to drag her giggling toward the field.

"Up to bat first is Shoeless Dana Scully, coming out of retirement after 5 years for the opening game at this unremarkable field!" Mulder narrated, the playful tone of his voice sending her back in time. She dragged her feet exaggeratedly to home plate, lifting the bat above her shoulders as Mulder took his place on the pitcher’s mound.

"Fire away, poor boy," Scully called, earning a flashing smile from the man with the glove. She had thought that somewhere along the way, between dingy motel rooms and nights spent sleeping in their car, he had lost that boyish look he sometimes had. But there it was, that carefree, life-loving look of wonderment that had only made her fall deeper in love. Her stomach did a flip.

Mulder drew back in a windup before firing a fastball right over the plate. It whooshed past, clanging into the rattling chain link fence before Scully could even blink.

"What was that, Mulder?" Scully protested, raising her palms to the air in question.

Mulder laughed, kicking the dirt with his dirty sneakers before looking back up at her.

"I know your secret, Dana Scully," he said, mischief glinting in his eye. "You were on your brother's little league team as a kid. I found the pictures in that album you keep hidden in the closet."

Scully's jaw dropped and she let out a laugh.

"You've been holding out on me, slugger."

"Well, that was a long time ago," she reasoned, doing an impressive job of hiding the fact that she was guilty as sin.

"Uh huh, I'm sure," he nodded, tossing the ball a couple times in his right hand. "Let's see what you got, babe."

An eyebrow raise.

"Like Babe Ruth."

She rolled her eyes.

Accepting her fate, Scully got in her batting stance and prepared to hit the ball. He whipped one at her, and she made contact with a satisfying crack! sending the ball soaring into the outfield.

Mulder nodded his head up and down, doing a circle around the pitchers mound as he cracked a sunflower seed between his teeth. "Yep, that's what I thought. So you mean to tell me all these years I could have been talking baseball stats with you? Scully, who's your favorite team?"

Scully rolled her eyes and dug the end of the bat in the ground, tracing shapes in the dirt. "I never actually liked baseball, Mulder, I only played cause I refused to let Bill do anything without me."

"Are you hiding any other spectacular skills I should know about? Do I need to build a magical basketball court next?"

"Magical, Mulder?" she said, raising a familiar skeptical eyebrow in his direction.

He shrugged and gestured around him. "What? This feels pretty magical to me," he answered with a wink, all that natural charm he possessed coming out in full force.

She shook her head, laughing softly at this side of him that she had missed.

"I think it's safe to say I'm not hiding any basketball skills," she spoke, gesturing at her 5'3" form.

Mulder reached down to grab another ball from the bucket beside him, idly passing it between his bare hand and his glove.

"Good, because this was a lot of work."

Dusk slowly turned into night, the cool air turning cold as they took turns batting and pitching, until they'd exhausted their stash of baseballs. They'd be lost to the darkened fields until the morning, when the sun would again illuminate the landscape.

As Mulder led her back to the house, flashlight lighting the way before them, the words from the movie echoed in her ears, as if from a disembodied voice. "Ease his pain."

She wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. His hand moved in small circles on her lower back, warming her against the chill that had settled in.

Whatever regrets they had, whatever dreams were broken beyond repair, they had this. They had each other. And even if this is how things always would be, nothing more than the two of them and this unremarkable house, she would be happy. And so would he.

"Is this heaven, Mulder?" she asked, her voice soft and pensive.

Mulder smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I think it just might be."

------

Anyway, the only way Field of Dreams could be more Mulder is if an alien showed up in it. I mean, it has ghosts, time travel, baseball, and difficult father-son relationships. What more could you want? Go watch it if you haven't. Even if you're not a baseball fan. The end literally makes me weep every time.

Now what are you still doing here, go watch the movie!

Tagging: @today-in-fic @randomfoggytiger @cutemothman

[carefulfears]

top 5 (or 10 if you have em) scully taking care of mulder moments <3

she said IF i have 10 😭😭😭

1/ sein und zeit

i fear i have talked about this television scene more times than anyone has ever talked about a television scene....like. one, two, three, four, i was even foolishly invited onto a podcast to talk about it more...

my tags here:

she gets down on the Ground. there's something so primal about it. there's such a lack of pretense and sense of desperation about it. the way he hits the table. we so Rarely see him lash out like that. but it's just too much to Bear. like everything in him is just Breaking the only thing that he's even remotely been able to hold onto amidst all of the unbearable loss and trauma in his life has failed. he's fumbling around for anything that might make it better. that audries fic describing him in this moment as an 'addict out of a fix' with 'newborn anger.' “this is the world? this is it?” it's the way that he spends this whole ep cooking up some elaborate mythology about missing children and how they can be found and then the last shot of the episode is that wide shot of all of the children's graves. sometimes he's just wrong. the world is so much fucking darker and uglier sometimes than the way he sees it. and that's what is crashing down around him in this moment. and she's sitting in the wreckage holding him tight.

this is such brave, brave love. i keep thinking about CSM in the following episode, standing in scully's apartment, warning her. "allow him his ignorance, it's what gives him hope."

she doesn't know what will happen to him, to her, to them, when she breaks down the only method of coping that he has. his mother lost her bedrock too, and she didn't survive. from the moment scully enters, you can watch it break her. she does it anyway. she gets down on the ground, and she cries, and she holds him. god, it all just would've been so different, if there'd been just 1 person, 27 years ago.

(thinking about mulder reaching up to hold scully when missy died, and these tags asking: did anyone hold him, when it was his sister?)

i love the show's message on grief (and trauma), in that this is all that is necessary for "closure." there is no "Truth," (and there really isn't any closure, there's no "beyond" the sea). but it matters that someone knows. it matters that someone bears witness. it matters that someone tells you the truth, even when it fucking breaks their heart. sits in the destruction with you.

the exhaustion in her voice the next morning, when she tells skinner, "it's been a hard night for him." she's still wearing her work clothes from the day before. she was up all night. she's tired, and she's scared, and she's sad. it's been a hard 7 years. it's been a hard 27 years.

it makes me tear up every time i see it, the way she blocks him in the doorway. she's not moving. this is just so scully. it's not even starbuck, it's just so scully. she would keep him in that apartment where she could cover him and control what touches him forever, if she could. (she can't, so you're not taking him anywhere without her. the way she looks her boss in the eye and tells him he better book her a flight too. brave love.)

2/ demons

god, this one just makes me sad. this might be the one that makes me saddest. she's dying. she doesn't have it in her, anymore. i talked about this in my newsletter (and i wrote a fic about it once) but this is like...the only time where she never calls him out on what he's doing. she never yells. she never rolls her eyes. she never gets frustrated with him. she doesn't have it in her. she's dying. he will be alone. she won't be here the next time. what can she even do about it?

i always think about this post:

and you know she is thinking about how if she hadn’t been there he would’ve died. and how the next time he does something like this, she won’t have enough life left in her to keep them both alive. she might not even have enough left for herself. and she’ll give whatever she does have left to him, but it won’t be enough to save either of them. she’ll die cold and pale and he’ll burn himself out. and what can she do but hold him? who will he have when she’s gone? what will he do to himself? who will he call?

and these tags:

this is so cautious and tender and apologetic. sorry for all the pain he feels constantly. and sorry that nothing can ease it. and sorry that she is dying and leaving him like this.

she started writing to him as soon as she was diagnosed, begging. begging forgiveness, begging courage, begging grace. begging for him to not feel there was anything more he could've done, to not become the next cause he is lost in. for him to keep going, as she needs to know he's "out there."

but she's seen him hold a gun to himself too many times, and she knows he's coming down with her. and it's such a loss? this is a person she gave up everything, including her life, to follow, because she believed in him and what he wanted to do in the world that much. but things are different now. he won't survive this. he won't be "out there" saving the world.

what can she do? go to rhode island at 5am, wrap him up. stay quiet, stay still, but scream and thrash at anyone who's careless with him. sink down next to him, cover him, hold him. "maybe we need every answer in the world to survive a single question: how long do we have each other?" (x)

(also, her memento mori journal, in general. she sat in that hospital alone, for days, knowing she was going to die. and she wrote letter, after letter, after letter, to him. so that he would have something. so that he wouldn’t be left alone with nothing, again.)

3/ the end

"as mulder appears. the look on his face is of a man who's seeing, smelling, and tasting the loss of everything he has worked for. it's the look of utter defeat. angle on scully at the door. she sees only mulder right now...she moves to him now. putting her arms around him, holding on to keep him from breaking. off this, we fade out. the end." (script)

i think so often about the script notes of this scene. the description of mulder, as absorbed in destruction. everything that he's worked for, literally reduced to (cigarette) ash. scully only focused on him.

in the final angle of the season, you can really see how she's standing in front of him. her fingers clutching him. but when she first grabs him, it's so tentative. it almost feels like she's trying to see if he's still there, if he exists, if his work doesn't.

this is...the whole thing! there's a reason why this was "the end." the final image of this iteration of the series, before everything changes. this is what it is all about. it's mulder walking headfirst into the devastation of the world. drenched in loss. seeing it. smelling it. tasting it. surrounded by it. and it's scully knowing what he'll find even as he's still moving (this script note, from the hallway: "reverse on scully. returning the look. knowing what mulder is going to find. and what it will mean.")

following behind. eyes on him, while he takes in the ash. just holding on for dear life; trying to keep him close, whole.

(also, i love the moment before the fire, at his apartment, after diana was shot. the way scully tells skinner that he can reach her at mulder's if he needs her, because that's where she'll be. he doesn't even have a bed, or anywhere for her to stay!! she's not leaving him.)

4/ paper hearts

oh, starbuck. we are really in it now.

paper hearts is an ahab and starbuck episode, yes. but mostly it's about grief. mostly it's about harsh awakenings. mostly it's about confrontation with fear, scully's included.

one of the most haunting moments of the series, to me, is when they speak to the father of the 14th victim, twenty-one years after his daughter went missing. and through tears, the father says, "i used to think...that missing was worse than dead, because...you never knew what happened. now that i know, i'm glad my wife's not here. she got luckier."

in that moment, as mulder looks over at the photos on the mantle, missing is not worse than dead. it is not worse than knowing. and later that day, in his first scene, roche calls it exactly as it is: "i understand you take this very personally, mulder."

i've written about this scene in the hallway so many times, because it's truly the crux of this episode (my favorite episode).

from my newsletter:

There’s something so viscerally deep about this episode that’s hard to put into words, but to me, it is most palpable in the moment in the hallway when Mulder asks Scully if she believes that his sister was abducted by aliens. And you can see in his face that he knows the answer, and he’s challenging her to come out and say it. You can see in Scully’s that she would rather admit to anything else.

he's challenging her. he's taking their entire dynamic, and throwing it in her face. not to be cruel. not to disrupt. but just to say...so what now? isn't this what you believe?

i don't think that they've ever been so fragile, as in this hallway, honestly. they rarely threaten to break it all down. their entire lives are built on him walking up to tragedy and saying: it was aliens. it was XYZ. and her following behind saying: no. it was a killer, it was a man.

what does that mean? what is she really saying?

this episode is hard on scully. mulder has never been more haunted. there has never been a bigger reminder of what they are actually doing. they are not just chasing little green men, having adventures, studying sewer worms. they are trying to make sense of something that will never make sense. they are trying to find a "truth" that they do not want to know. they are living their lives in mourning, in bereavement, in remembrance, of a missing little girl, and scully is terrified that they'll find her. that it will be exactly like roche threatens. that missing is not worse than dead.

and there is no one else. there is no one else that even knows how haunted he is. how stuck he is, in that childhood bedroom, like he said all those years ago. how deeply sad it is.

it's all of the little things. it's the "you did good work, mulder" in the beginning. it's the way she asks if he's okay to go tell the 14th victim's family. it's way she exclaims "oh my god" when roche says that he just wants to see mulder's face, when he finds samantha's body. one of the few times that we ever see scully lose control, but she just stands up and screams, opens the door and wordlessly waits for mulder to get up and get out of there.

it's the way that she hears "help me, scully" and digs in the dirt, with her bare hands.

(you can tell in his eyes here that he's been crying, and it really gets to me. there's so much that we don't see.)

in the end, they're back in the basement. nothing left but one scrap of tattered fabric, one more lost failure. it's over. she just comes down to check on him.

the progression of scully's face in this last scene is just unbelievably gut-wrenching to me. her smile, when she tells him to get some sleep, and he laughs. the way it disappears when he holds her, and can't see her anymore. with his mother, flashing that smile and hugging her was all that it took to convince her not to worry. when he repeats the same actions with scully, she looks like she could break.

this post:

Episodes like this make me think how alone - not just lonely, but truly alone - Mulder was before her. Nobody lost sleep over him falling apart under the fist of decades old trauma. Nobody grappled with him, let him wrestle his grief against them, and still stayed. Nobody visited him in the hospital, flew to Alaska, lied for him, stayed by his bed for days straight without an extra change of clothes. Nobody else knew he was suffering or wanted to, knew it more than he knew. That end of Paper hearts where she tells him to get some sleep, he laughs at the ridiculousness of it, but also out of incredulity at having someone to wish for better on his behalf. The heartbroken look on her face as he’s laughing into her waist seems to be her coming to the same realisation; “Who looked after you before? How long did you feel like this on your own?”

she is heartbroken. there is so much grief, in being starbuck. there's grief in being needed. there's grief in following ghosts. there's grief in loving someone who is so encased in pain, in loss. he will not go home and get some sleep. a well-placed joke, that smile, a hug, does not convince her that he's okay. he hurts so much, for so long, and he has one person who knows it. and all they do is keep moving: closer and closer to that breaking point that she is so afraid of, and they can't stop.

5/ redux ii

remember when dana scully lied on her death bed and looked up at mulder as he told her that he was not willing to jeopardize skinner to save himself, and she replied, "well, then, you have to lay it on me."

the way he smiles and shakes his head, chokes out "i can't...i can't do that." through tears...they are so kind to each other. all that she has left in the world is her reputation, and she says: take it. take it all. take everything.

she cries when he won't do it.

6/ herrenvolk

okay, i wanna get into some slightly lighter ones, so y'all remember when she nearly fully knocked skinner into the wall, because mulder came in with a (checks notes) scratch on his face?

this is just so scully.

she is so panicked. she just wants to slow him down, to stand between him and the world for even one moment longer.

these tags:

she's almost begging him not to go in. the extent of her worry is heartbreaking. she loves him. it frightens her to know what awaits him.

one of the biggest conflicts of scully's character is that she just cannot stop him, she cannot shield him, she cannot protect him. the way she leans up here, and pulls him to her shoulder. covers him with a blanket. this is what she can do.

there is so much grief in being starbuck!! in loving someone who walks blindly into a world that you do not trust. in following someone into the worst night of their life: over, over, over. years, years, years. in being first mate, holding the responsibility on your shoulders of having to steer in a safe direction, only having one to choose from.

(i also think it's really special, all of the little moments where she checks in. in the previous episode, in the hospital hallway, the way she says "are you okay?" so softly.

in paper clip, when she makes him stop, and says "no, wait, hold on a second...i don't think you've had time to process everything that you've been through."

remnants of the girl who told him she'll cover for him and he should just go get a beer, take some time for himself, after jersey. who suggested he talk to someone, when jerry lamana died. she's always wanted so much for him, but she understands more now. there's still room to pause, for a moment, before he carries on.)

7/ anasazi

ladies, would you shoot your man with a gun, to keep him from endangering himself, while he was being laced with LSD, and then drag him across the country singlehandedly, while he was unconscious, despite him being twice your size? and this, too, is taking care.

the way she says, "i was certain they would have killed you, mulder." and the fear in her voice, his hand on her knee. (she is so young. she really doesn't know what to do, not as often as she seems like she does). the way he says, "thank you. thank you for taking care of me." they are so kind to each other. it'll break your fucking heart.

(i remember asking y'all a few weeks ago, if mulder and scully ever say "i'm sorry," if they ever apologize to each other. and we came up with a couple of times. i'll tell you what, though: not as often as they say "thank you.")

8/ fire

girlbosses when they singlehandedly solve serial murders, to get their best friend's shitty ex away from them!!! okay, i put this one on here because we were talking about it yesterday, but scully really does handle the entire situation with phoebe so perfectly, and that's hard to do, when you're dealing with friends and abusers.

trish, i loved this part of your post yesterday:

scully gives him the space to talk about it, never says too much but she says enough. her phrasing is SO important. she repeats what he just told her in a way that frames it as wrong.

she's a little rabid, lol. we can see it on her face when she's alone, or when mulder's not looking. but around him (around phoebe too) she's calm. she listens, she addresses what he tells her as bad, without pressing. when he tells her that she's off the case, that he doesn't want to expose her to what phoebe is doing, she asks one time: are you sure you don't want help?

he says yes, and she does it anyway. she catches that fucking murderer so that this woman can go home. just, like, an inspiration to us all.

trish's tweet:

really, truly, genuinely. scully solving the case in fire was the absolute best course of action she could have taken. get that woman out of here, an ocean away from mulder. (give him freedom, let him heal, teach him what real love feels like)

(her eyes locked in on him here, phoebe behind her. the way that when phoebe leaves the room, scully says, "you alright?" instantly.)

meeting phoebe just a few months into their partnership made her so fucking crazy like...i make fun of her for being sick in the head in regards to everyone he meets (men and women alike) and never wanting anyone around him other than her but like, my god, can you blame her!!! he's such a gentle person and people are so cruel and it makes her eyes bug out of her head.

yeah, i really don't have much else to say here, you guys. she solved a murder herself, a case that she wasn't even supposed to be working, so that his old gf would go away and stop being mean to him. she doesn't play!!

(also! while we're on the subject of abusive exes, honorable mention to scully cornering diana into an empty room and telling her to "just think" about who mulder is, who he was when she met him, compared to where he is now. "and then try and stand there in front of me. look me in the eye. and tell me mulder wouldn't bust his ass trying to save you.")

9/ deadalive

oh, you guys remember that time she raised him from the dead, right?

scully at 8 months pregnant, sitting in that hospital chair, holding his hand, for days. knowing he can’t feel it, knowing that there’s nothing that says he’ll ever wake up. that it’s impossible. that there is no science…yeah. she just sits there and holds his hand.

i love the moment when she finds out, and she comes barreling through that hallway. she hits skinner first, and starts yelling, “i want to see him. no, i need to see him,” slams her fists into his chest.

then she moves onto doggett. repeats, “i need to see him” through tears. and the way doggett says… “i know. but i wish you wouldn’t.”

she’s loved. they want to protect her, protect her image of mulder as she knew him. but they also both know she will fucking plow them down.

i always think of this fic and feel so ill:

“I pulled you six feet out of the ground,” she whispers, dangerously low. “Because I couldn’t live without you. I gave birth to your child.”

she fed his fish while he was in a casket. she planned a funeral and decorated a nursery alone, at the same time. she ran herself ragged all over the country, trying to keep his work going. she raised him from the dead.

(i also feel that i can throw in here, as related, the time that she busted him out of prison and then abandoned everything in her entire life including her career, her family, and everything she owns, to go on the run from the law and live secretly in seedy motels for years to be with him.)

10/ fight the future

there are too many contenders for my last spot, so i’m gonna keep it simple, and go with the most special movie moment. (of all movies).

from my newsletter:

“Mulder watches the spaceship as it flies overhead, his face glows with a heart-melting grin of childlike wonder and awe.”(x)

That’s exactly what it feels like to me, it’s an innocence and excitement that was so present in season one, that was all over him when he told Scully to come look in the second episode, but that’s rare to see in the later seasons. It’s rare to see at this point in their story, after all that’s happened. They are stranded in Antarctica, both of them injured, both of them freezing in the cold, and they are holding each other and gazing up at the sky. What a perfect thing in their big momentous feature, to bring it all back to what it started with.

there’s such a reverent sentimentality to it, in the simplicity. she had stopped breathing, a few minutes earlier. but when he passes out, she pulls herself up, and grabs onto him. keeps him alive, keeps them both alive, just by holding him close. that’s really the heart of it.

(also, i find it so moving that this film is the only time in the franchise that scully considers leaving, not working with him anymore, and it’s because she thinks she’s not good for him. that she’s holding him back. she never considers him as anything other than wanted, something worth believing in.)

some honorable mentions to: little green men, which i’ve written about here. (especially her secret-signaling him to their secret meet-up place, just to ask if he’s okay). the erlenmeyer flask, which i’ve talked about here. (she literally stops him in the street to tell him that she should have listened to him, and she’s sorry, because she should have trusted his instincts. that means so much, you guys). her telling colton she hopes he falls on his ass after he was making rude comments about mulder in squeeze, screaming at a serial killer that she’ll gas him into hell herself and no one will stop her, if mulder isn’t okay, in beyond the sea….she has threatened and shouted at and smacked around so many people for fucking with him, and this too is care!! (anger meaning you’re worth being angry over, etc etc)

how desperately she became frantic to find their son, after 17 years resigned to never ever looking for him, never ever endangering him that way…because she became convinced that it’s the only thing that would help mulder.

and how important samantha is to her. it matters. it matters, that sam is remembered. that someone else in the world knows. someone knows that they played baseball in the summers, that they fought over the television, that he’s looked for her in every room he’s ever been in. someone else cares about her; not as a white whale, not as a photo on a desk, as a little girl who broke her collarbone because she played on swings too hard. scully listened to her journal, and cried. listened to how much she suffered. how much she just wanted to see her big brother. (scully kept a journal like that, too, once. underwent those same tests. almost died at the hands of those same men. wrote her testimony to that same person.) it’s taking care of mulder, to love samantha. and she does.