#the X files

[rosenkranz-does-things]

first art of 2025 ✨ inspired by this post because it speaks directly to my soul

[mulderscully]

Happy 25th, everyone.

[precedex-files]

Yes, and honestly it’s one of the greatest things about diving deep into a fandom

Reblog if you've made at least one friend because of a fandom.

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: a long time and no time at all

So, @laurencem asked what Mulder and Scully were doing at the unremarkable house at midnight for the anniversary of the millennium kiss. I could imagine their night having been something like this. tagging @today-in-fic

It’s been a long time and no time at all. She’s looking out the window, three minutes to midnight, lost in thought; it’s dark outside, but the room is filled with the soft light of a single lamp and a few candles. She sees little but her own reflection looking back at her, a contemplative look on her face.

His reflection joins hers as he steps up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and leaning his chin on the top of her head. He fits against her as if their bodies were made to slot together. She’s never felt small in his arms. She feels invincible.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she answers.

“What are you thinking about?”

She takes a second to answer. It’s been such a long time and no time at all. “Us. You and me.”

“Funny,” he says. “I’ve just been thinking about the same thing.”

It doesn’t surprise her. They don’t celebrate many holidays, but they celebrate this one. There aren’t many New Year’s Eves they’ve spent apart. The few she hasn’t spent with him, she’s spent alone. She knows he’s done the same. This night belongs to the two of them. There’s no room for anyone else.

His eyes are fixed on her reflection. Hers are fixed on his. If she squints, she can see their younger selves in the window standing slotted together like puzzle pieces, and it seems right. Such a long time. She leans back against him and sighs. No time at all, really. She takes his arm and lifts it to look at the watch on his wrist. One more minute. She links her fingers with his before letting their hands drop back to their sides. It seems like yesterday that she touched him for the first time, shook his hand and changed her life.

It seems like yesterday that he leaned towards her in a hospital hallway and touched his lips to hers for the first time.

“Twenty-five years,” he says. Of course he’s thinking about it too.

“A quarter of a century.” It sounds like forever when she puts it into words. It has been forever. It is forever.

He sways back and she turns in his arms, looks up at him, wonders how the sight of him can still take her breath away. In the small space between them he lifts his arm so they can both see the face of his watch, the seconds ticking down. They don’t speak. Time passes without words. They’ve never needed many.

Ten seconds. She hears the countdown from the TV twenty-five years ago, feels the quiet calm she’d felt as she watched the world stay the same.

Five, four, three.

She looks up at him, his gaze meeting hers, and the look in his eyes is the same it was then. It’s always been the same.

Two. One.

He leans in.

Midnight: a moment’s pause, close enough they’re sharing breath, and even if she can’t remember the number of seconds it took for his lips to meet hers back then, she thinks it must have been exactly this long before they closed the final inch of distance for the first time.

A soft, lingering kiss, so familiar it makes her heart flutter in her chest. She knows his lips so well. They’ve touched every part of her body. They’ve formed words that have healed her and hurt her and made her feel like the luckiest person in the world. The new year wouldn’t start without his kiss, the hands of the watch frozen in the half second before midnight. She doesn’t know how time moved on when they weren’t together. Maybe it only did because she closed her eyes and wished him to be with her until the universe believed that he was.

The smile on her face is different than the one from twenty-five years ago. His is too.

She’d never thought she was all that special until he’d looked at her.

“Happy new year, Scully,” he says.

“Happy new year, Mulder,” she answers.

A quarter of a century ago, so much had happened to them that she’d believed nothing could surprise her anymore. These days, so much has happened to them that she expects new surprises every day.

This is the only thing that will never change: she loves him. Utterly and completely. It’s been so long and no time at all since she let that knowledge out its cage in her heart, shared it with him, and learned what the look in his eyes had been telling her all along. To be loved like this is more than she can comprehend.

“When you kissed me back then,” she starts.

“Twenty-five years ago?”

“Yeah. When you kissed me then…” She puts her hands on his chest to feel the steady beating of his heart. “I never asked. Was it supposed to be a New Year’s kiss? Or the start of something?”

He runs his fingertips gently along her temple. “Neither,” he says. “I think I was admitting something that had been true for a long time.”

“Okay.”

“Did you understand?”

“I think I did,” she says. “Did you understand my answer?”

He nods. “I think I did. Either way, it worked out alright, didn’t it?”

It’s been a long time and no time at all since she kissed him for the second time. In the car as she dropped him off at his apartment. A long time and no time at all since she asked him if he needed help with anything with his arm in a sling, a long time and no time at all since he said yes and asked her if she’d come up for a while. A long time and no time at all since they kissed for the third time and then more times than she can count.

She kisses him again. She kisses him like it’s twenty-five years ago, she kisses him like they’ve been kissing for a quarter of a century, she kisses him like time has no meaning at all.

He’s the same and he is different. She’s the same and she is different. What they’re saying to each other is the same. That time passes, and they’ll face it together. Always.

[mytardisisparked]

A very contemplative Fox Mulder for my first drawing of 2025.

[swordofhearts]

everybody go watch x files

[ronk]

On New Year's Eve, anything can happen

THE X-FILES | 6x20 'THREE OF A KIND'

[is-on-its-way]

mulder calls scully his soulmate…

Okay theres been some discourse about this moment from mulder in redux ii, and while i sort of get the subtext, i need to talk it out so i make sure i understand it idk I can be slow on the uptake occasionally…

So either

mulder is the one who’s “not alive” read in hiding and scully is the one half of him that is still alive in hospital but still, alive

or scully being in the hospital is the one who “isn’t” and since he’s up and walking he‘s the half of them that is alive. ( I don’t think this is it)

Or the secret third thing mulder’s so distressed because he’s so worried for scully he cant “live” without seeing shes okay first, she’s still living and his life is on pause until he sees shes okay.

And one day the cancer really will take her, he fully thinks its soon, and for the rest of his life he’ll have lost half of himself.

Whichever it is, the point is he is half of a whole and scully is his other half obviously. Which jesus christ its so sweet and beautiful and he’s literally admitting that to his boss gahhh

[rosenkranz-does-things]

procreate wrapped: you drew the same two characters over and over again in 2024. where do you even find the time?

[mvlderfox]

[zombeesknees]

#just co-worker things etc #that post that’s ‘they were insane for this - and it’s just 2 people looking at each other’ but like supersize it #skinner put up with so much

Agent Mulder. I’m Dana Scully, I’ve been assigned to work with you.

[hoechlins-hole]

[thelonelynindroid]

(Quietly cautiously shuffling into X Files Tumblr one toe at a time)

Pt1 bc image limit

[patientlibrarian]

It's the "looks" again!

how to say “I love you” in x-files [49/?] ⤷ 6.06 — “How the Ghosts Stole Christmas”

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: for as long as it takes

I'm having feelings about middle-aged msr + I'm in the mood for angst. That's rarely a good combination. There's a good chance I'll decide to be nice to them later, though! Here, have a little pre-revival ficlet with feelings.

He doesn’t mean to do it. He really doesn’t. It’s crossing all the boundaries they’ve set, but he misses her so much he’s paralyzed with longing. His hands won’t obey his mind. He barely manages to pick up the phone, then hangs up on her with a spike of panic when she answers. He doesn’t want to break the rules. He respects the rules. The rules are their only hope.

She calls him back, but he doesn’t pick up, instead waits for the phone to stop ringing and then texts her “I’m sorry, I’m fine. I just called your number by mistake.” She doesn’t text him back. He drops onto the couch and buries his face in his hands.

He’s managed to get up and stand by the kitchen counter, wanting to make coffee but unable to remember how to move his hands, when he hears the sound of a car outside.

He squeezes his eyes closed and doesn’t cry. He even knows the sounds of her parking her car. He recognizes the specific sound of her closing her car door. Her footsteps outside, and then her knock on the door. “Mulder?” she calls.

His feet begin their walk towards the door, drawn to her like a moth to the flame. He’ll burn himself on her if that’s the only way he can be near her. He even knows the sounds of her unlocking the door. And then she’s standing inside their house—his house—before he’s even crossed the room.

“Mulder,” she says, a look of concern in her eyes.

“Scully,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” She stops, and he has no trouble reading the expression on her face. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know. She couldn’t stop herself from driving out here any more than he could stop himself from calling her. “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you did.” She doesn’t add that she didn’t believe him. That she still doesn’t believe him. He knows her entirely. He keeps forgetting that she knows him just as well.

When she closes the door behind her, she locks them into a vacuum and he can’t breathe. His lungs won’t fill with air. Danger hangs between them, disaster and destruction. “I was going to make coffee,” he says. “Do you want a cup?”

“No.” Her eyes aren’t leaving his face for a second. “Thank you.”

They move at the same time, closing the distance, meeting in the middle. The kiss starts hungry and grows more frantic as her coat drops to the floor and her fingers fight with the button of his jeans. He walks her backwards to the couch leaving clothes in their wake, and then she’s naked underneath him and he wonders how she got even more beautiful since the last time he saw her like this.

He wants to take it slow but he knows time is ticking away. Even as she draws him closer and wraps her legs around him, he can see regret in her eyes and he feels it echoing deep in his bones. This is going to break him and he’ll let it.

She closes her eyes as he pushes into her. That familiar pleased exhale she lets out once he’s all the way inside… it cuts into his heart until he has to close his eyes against the pain. She used to do this every time they came back together, every time they found a moment after life had kept them busy.

“Please,” she whispers, and he rocks into her, feels her hands on his back, her body welcoming him home.

He thought he’d never do this again. He hoped he’d get to do this again. But not like this, not in a stolen moment that will cease to exist after she leaves. It’ll leave him devastated no matter how thoroughly they’ll pretend it didn’t happen.

She doesn’t speak again and neither does he. But she lifts her head, kisses the corner of his eye, his cheek, the side of his neck, and he finds that he’s crying.

Her legs are tightening around him and he snaps his hips forward in short, hard thrusts; he knows what she likes, the sound of her moans tells him exactly what she needs. He doesn’t care whether he’s gonna come or not, as long as she does. If he can no longer make her happy in any other way, he wants to give her this at least.

She fists her hands into his hair and pulls his head up, crashes her mouth against his in a kiss that’s brutal and tender at the same time. She bites his bottom lip, invades his mouth with her tongue, takes him the way he’s taking her with every push into her perfect, tight body. The nails of her other hand are breaking the skin where they dig into his shoulder. He wants her to make him bleed. He wants it to sting after she’s gone.

He can tell that she’s getting close. She’s clenching around him, her heels digging into his ass, begging him to go deeper, and her desperate whimpers rip through every last protective layer around his heart. He’s hers.

She throws her head back and her hands take his upper arms in a death grip as she arches off the couch. She’s coming hard and he fucks her harder; if he’s gonna be feeling this forever, he wants her to remember it too.

His own orgasm hits him out of nowhere, so intense he cries out, his body shaking as he pulses inside her. And for a moment, it’s all real, too real. It can’t end; their love is a law of nature.

She’s panting underneath him and he holds himself up on trembling arms, finds her lips in another kiss. This one is slow and gentle. They’re already broken. There’s nothing left to hide.

They still don’t speak as she pushes at his chest and they sit up, his body throbbing with the ebbing waves of forbidden pleasure.

“I should go,” she says. She’s still breathing hard, her skin is flushed, and he doesn’t have the strength to feel the overwhelming unhappiness that will wash over him in a few minutes.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

They get dressed in silence. He wonders if there’s any way to fix this.

Before she leaves, her hand already on the doorknob, she looks back at him, and it’s the soul-deep sadness in her eyes that gives him hope.

“You know that I love you, right?” she asks, and he nods.

“Yes,” he says. “I know.” He does. That’s the worst part. “I love you too.”

“I know,” she says, and finds a smile for him that’s full of despair.

And then she’s gone, and he hears her footsteps on the porch, hears the closing of her car door, hears her driving away.

He’s cried all his tears for today. There are no more. They’ll come back later. He’ll cry over everything they’ve lost for as long as it takes. For as long as it takes until she’s ready to come home. He’ll be right here, waiting for her. He hopes she knows that too.

---

Optional fluffy part 2 this way