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In the x-files season 8, there is a plotline about who is really the father of Scully's child (which in most unfortunately brought back in the revival) and it really pissed me off.
We know Scully went to Mulder for IVF, that it failed, and that, in mid season 7, they started a sexual relationship. We have no reason to believe Scully somehow tries IVF again after he's gone (she had no more "chances") , and we don't really see Scully with anyone other than Mulder during the entire show. Jerse happened 3 years prior.
So, for us fans, this storyline boils down to: "She and Mulder created their miracle, or something, that Scully herself doesn't remember, happened to her, that resulted her in somehow getting pregnant against all odds."
If your drama is "who's the baby daddy?" maybe make sure that the only alternative isn't the violation of one's bodily autonomy ???
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i dont understand this new wave of txf fans acting like the show is a glee-level trainwreck and refering to it almost as a guilty pleasure.
its a good show.
it has won awards.
critics and fans have in the present and in the past overwhelmingly liked it.
its got good great character building, thrilling even if sometimes clunky world building, amazing cinematography, award winning writing and actor chemistry that literally created words in the vocabulary.
so whats with this whole
"omg guys i just rewatched that shitshow we like and......its actually not that bad??"
dont get me wrong it has a world of issues namely incosistent lore and misogyny abound but what is this frankly lame perfomance of acting like watching your favorite show is cringey.
and yet you, and you alone, is able to overcome its many flaws to find something decent about it?
anyways im kind of tired of consuming things ironically.
AU ficlet for the end of The Truth because William should have been there with them.
This was meant to be written for the X-Files Bingo. Then everything went to hell, and I didn't finish it in time. I've decided to finish it and put it out in the world as it is.
Tagging @today-in-fic
~
The rain patters against the roof outside, but inside, it’s quiet. Mulder barely dares to breathe too loudly, to move too quickly, to make a single mistake. He’s made too many of those already. His hand is on his son’s stomach, rising and falling with the boy’s even breathing. It’s everything he’s dreamed about these last couple of months. What kept him going.
When he closed his eyes at night, he pictured Scully and their son, just doing everyday life things. All the things he was missing. He pictured them smiling, just living. And that’s what kept him alive, too. Hoping that one day he could return, be with them again.
His son has grown into a solid form, bigger than Mulder expected. When he left, when William was only a few days old, he felt light in his hands, but took up all the room in his heart. His reddish tuft has turned a darker shade, as have his eyes. The ghost of Scully’s features is there on the boy’s face. As well as his own. They’ve always been a perfect team, working well together. Their son, however, is their masterpiece.
The bed dips and Mulder lifts his eyes from his son. Scully is smiling at him. Soft and gentle, tired but happy. Her hair is still wet, her complexion rosy from the hot water. The white fluffy robe almost swallows her. She doesn’t seem to mind. She scoots closer, on the other side of William, who sleeps through it all. Mulder watches him, curious to see if the boy wakes.
“He’s a deep sleeper,” Scully says, reading his thoughts.
“Wonder who he gets that from.” He smiles at her, and her answering smile is a balm on his beaten soul.
“He gets his appetite from you,” she says, her fingers tracing his, careful not to disturb their son. “He’ll be awake before you know it.”
“I can’t wait to get to know him,” he whispers, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. His son doesn’t remember him. When he opens his eyes to look at him, he’ll see nothing but a stranger. For Mulder, holding him when he was a few days old, it meant the world. He missed everything in between then and now. How can he ever make up for it?
“You will,” Scully says. The voice of reason, the sound of hope.
But is there hope for them? For any of them? With what he found out, the future has an expiration date. The date’s set and he can’t do anything about it. Neither of them can. He looks at his son, sleeping peacefully. Unaware of what’s happening around him. He lives in certainty that his parents will keep him safe. Mulder promises it, manifests it. They will keep William safe. His eyes find Scully’s. There’s no resentment; she did all of this on her own. She kept going. Maybe, he thinks. Maybe there is a sliver of hope when she’s by his side.
“What are you thinking?” she asks him in a soft voice. He’s not ready to voice it yet. His fears, his hopes. No matter how much she deserves to hear both.
“I’m thinking… I’m thinking about the last time we sat like this. When our journey started.”
“You told me about Samantha.” Scully puts a hand over his and he’s back there in that hotel room, nine years ago.
“You thought I was crazy.”
“I still think you’re crazy.” She smiles at him, and he laughs.
“Did you think we’d…,” he trails off. Of course she didn’t think this is where they’d end up. Him on the run from the government. Her by his side. Their son, too. Mulder touches the boy’s hand, needing to assure himself that he’s real.
“Did I think we’d be here?” Scully asks softly. “I couldn’t have imagined any of it, Mulder.” He nods at her. “But I’ve told you before,” she says, touching his cheek. “I wouldn’t change a single day. And I’m not giving up. We’re not giving up.” She emphasizes the we.
“You and me, huh?” He grins. “And William. This is all I want, Scully. All we have is each other. I don’t care if we… I won’t give up. I can promise you that. You and Will. But all I want is for us to have a life. Together.”
“Then we want the same thing.” He reaches over, touches her lip. She kisses his thumb without taking her eyes off of his. The determination in her expression fuels him. His spirit. She’s the love of his life, the reason he keeps going. A smile cracks over her face, like the sun breaking through clouds.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“Good,” she replies. “Because I love you too. But we need to sleep if we want to save the world.”
He won’t remind her that she’s already saved the world. His, anyway. Instead, he just nods. Careful not to wake William, he scoots closer, wrapping his arm around the two people who make up his whole cosmos. He hears her sigh and tightens his hold on her. Tomorrow they will have to make a plan. They don’t know where they’re going yet. They don’t know how it will work. If it will. But there will be a tomorrow.
“Maybe there’s hope,” he says, looking at her. The words finally slipping from his lips.
“I know there is,” she replies after a beat. He watches her, soaks up as much of this moment as he can. Exhaustion tugs at him, and before he knows it, his eyes drift closed. He falls asleep with a newfound confidence that they can save the world after all.
scully's comfort with ambiguity is not a constrast to mulder's search for the truth but rather a catholic version of it. you can build an entire religion out of something you can never be sure of 👆
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