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It’s very funny of us to be like “Yeah Mulder’s totally in love with Scully but it’s more than that. She’s the first true friend he’s ever had. And for Scully, Mulder’s integrity, curiosity, and compassion is a guiding light and theirs is the relationship that she values above all others.” While in canon all they say is just like “ok see you at work tomorrow :)”
[ disclaimer! this is not the full story, AND I wrote it very late at night on iMessage to my friend, live, on the spot ]
So once upon a time there was an adventurer! He was a bearded man who travelled all on his own.
He could not remember how he got there, or his name, or anything important, or what he would consider important.
But he knew that he was meant for great things. He knew was meant to do something incredible; and if he knew what it was, well, that would ruin it, of course.
He trusted in the universe to keep him and all that he loved in good hands.
All that was left, then, was something to love.
And that is where our story begins.
The man could not pinpoint exactly when he started to explore, either. Time was... blurry, to say the least, before he started his adventure.
He learned things along the way. The utter joy it brought him to learn what he looked like...
Knelt over the crystal clear water of the cave, purple light reflecting off of the surface. Tired, sharp features, a considerable amount of stubble, tan skin, long black shaggy hair, and thin, dark eyes that shined with love.
He’d never been happier.
He was not so happy to learn of his place in the world; he could think of things, like villages full of colorful banners and happy people, music and warm yellow lights from inside old brown cottages deep in forests. Children laughing could flash through his eyes- but, as he learned quickly, he would not quite get to see this reality. He wasn’t even sure how he imagined it.
The man learned useful things as well; his favorite skill was how to write. He developed looping and jagged symbols, each unique to their meaning, and weaved them together through ink and papyrus- he learned how to bind the pages, and from then on, he kept a log.
‘Log 1
Hello! It’s very nice to meet you. I know I’m not actually meeting you, but I’ve always wanted to say that, so it feels nice.
I feel like I haven’t done much; not enough. But this feels like a huge step! I just need to figure out why.
I wish there were other people to talk to; other people to learn from. I wish I knew how I know so much already. But that’s okay, as long as we have eachother, right?
I see animals around sometimes. None stick around too long though... I think they’re afraid. I’m going to head to sleep and figure out where to go from here in the morning.
Talk soon!
Love, me’
The man stared at the parchment for a while. Something just didn’t sit right with him; it felt too formal, too uptight, too unnatural. Setting the feeling and the journal aside, he let himself be taken into sleep.
Several days and logs later, he figured out what had bothered him so much.
‘Log 7
Hey buddy! I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I do that a lot! You know me. Well,’
something was scribbled out, now illegible.
‘you do know me, yes! I tell you all that I can, I promise.
In fact, I think I figured out what’s wrong!
This morning, I saw a lovely little creature. A little red thing that flies around with little peculiar black spots! I love these things, and as it came to me, I said, “Ah, hello, Ladybug!”
And that’s when I realized; things have names! But you and I just don’t seem to. So I’ve decided to give us names!
Dearest journal, I have a name for you! It just came to me after a while... it felt right.
How does Juby feel? I think it fits you rather nicely. I don’t know if you noticed, but I pressed a flower onto your cover. I think it suits you. I don’t have much to do lately.
I discovered the name for the feeling I told you about, too. I’m just thinking of so many names lately!
I feel lonely.
Love, me’
The man smiled down at the pages softly. He let out a raspy cough, as if smoke was clearing from his lungs, and learned something new.
“As close a friend as it gets,” he choked out, voice new, rough, scary, and wonderful.
And overcome with so much joy he had never yet experienced and perhaps may never again, he learned a second thing that day instantly- how to laugh.
‘Log 10,
Dearest Juby,
I’ve made great strides with my voice! These are the things I’ve dreamt about, the chatter, the laughter! It’s all so strange and wonderful.
Juby, I know that you’re alive, but in your own way, not in the way that I am. I wish every day that you could provide me with warmth the way you do company.
I’ve been so very cold lately.
Do not forget that I love you, though!
Love, me’
And when the day came that he finally decided to scout out the swamp, he was nothing short of prepared, he had food, rations, his journal, and most importantly, his satchel.
It would have been beneficial if he had checked his satchel for holes before he left. But it might have been for the better.
He sung, on his way there. He had learned how to do that, and he knew from memories that he was not any good, but it was nice to hear nonetheless.
When he felt the moss buckle slightly underneath his footsteps, he smiled a wide, genuine smile, eyes crinkling up with mirth. The earthy, tangy smell reached him, and his passion for exploration grew with every breath of the cool, thick air.
He came quickly to the creek he was meant to cross- it was nothing at all every time before, so he didn’t think twice before taking a leap onto the boulder that sat in the middle.
He landed easily on his feet, jumping to the land opposite of it, but a sound alarmed him.
The fluttering of pages.
The man turned around in horror as the journal fell into the creek with a splash.
He had not learned how to swim.
He learned another new thing that day, and it was how to cry.
He fell onto his knees with a heavy thump, tears falling down the rough, calloused skin of his face as he squeezed his eyes tightly. A horrid sound came from his throat. He didn’t quite like that one.
He knew that it would not last forever, but he hadn’t expected to lose his only friend so quickly.
And that was when he met her.
A creature of the forest; a little gray creature with a swishing tail, who did not run away.
She was silent, making her way to sit in front of him on little cat feet, pausing when she was only inches away, and sitting down.
And she made a small noise.
He stopped in his misery to wipe at his face and open his eyes, looking down at her large ones.
“Hello there,” he said to the cat, voice thick with emotion, but loving all the same. “This is new.”
“For me, too,” she said, and he jumped slightly, eyes widening in shock.
“You speak.”
“And?”
“Do cats do that?” He asked quietly, in disbelief, wracking his brain for memories of cats.
“I don’t know, do they?”
“I guess so.”
“They must, then.” She agreed. Her voice was airy and melodic.
She touched her paw to his knee briefly, as if testing him out.
“You’re warm,” he commented, in awe, shaking his head roughly. “I apologize if I’m not myself. I just lost a dear friend.”
“Did you?” The cat asked sympathetically. “Who was your friend?”
“I- uh.” The man drew a blank. No- how could he forget so quickly? “I don’t... know...?”
“You don’t know?” The cat repeated, tilting its little head at him. “What happened?”
“The... the creek. I lost them in the creek!” He cried, listening for the rush of the water he just crossed, and hearing nothing.
The cats eyes were wide with confusion. “What creek?”
He looked past her. There was no water. “Uh.”
“Are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I think I’m a little out of it. What did you say your name was?”
“Juby,” she replied easily, blinking up at him in what seemed to be joy. “What’s yours?”
“Um...” the man laughed, drying the rest of his face. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you give me one?”
“I like your eyes,” she commented politely, head tilting again. “They remind me of the little birds I like that sit by the waterfall. Is it okay if I call you Crow?”
“I don’t see why not!” He exclaimed, laughing again, full of mirth. “Come then, Juby, would you like to be friends.”
She butted her head roughly against his arm, pushing her face past it sweetly, affectionately. He was filled with a new feeling of warmth.
Another learned skill.
I love Mulder’s attitude in season 2 towards his feelings for Scully. Summarily, he’s pretty deeply irrevocably in love with her, but his attitude about it is “that’s none of her business” so he just goes about his day
“Live action movie” they have to animate the dragon anyway (but worse)
Just. The way Mulder looked at Scully in fight the future, when she was covered in goo and spitting up god knows what, like she was the best thing he had ever seen? yeah. yeah. I need to go lie down
It informs so much of my interpretation of Mulder’s character that he lives in a shitty apartment in Old Town Alexandria. He wears Armani suits but his ties are ostentatious and badly-patterned. He’s from Martha’s Vineyard but he tips badly
Ok the main reason why Mulder’s Mulderness works (the infodumping, the ill timed dorky and raunchy jokes, etc) so well is that more than anything he wants to share them with Scully. He is always looking towards her and sharing things with her and asking her what she thinks. He makes bad jokes for her and puts on slideshow after slideshow for her— it’s not like he needs to do that for himself. And the first half of it, the foundation, is that he does like doing all of these things on his own and that’s where the genuineness comes from, yes, but he does all these things that make him him for her benefit. Because he wants to <33 I do not gaze at Scully my FOOT!
it’s stupid how good of a character luke skywalker is
