@the-august-one and I were chatting about The X-Files and we noted that most J/B shippers we know are also Mulder/Scully shippers. But we can’t quite pin down why that would be. Any ideas?
So far I have:
- Competence kink
- Mutual respect and trust
- ??????
M/S was probably my first ship experience and was certainly my first fanfic writing experience (other than entering a Star Wars Fan Club story contest when I was 11).
- 100% here for competence kink, of which M/S was really an archetype. “Smart is sexy.”
- Lets not forget the slow-burn aspect (the growing mutual respect and trust feeds into that).
- Been through hell and back together.
- Seeing the real person underneath and accepting them.
- IF anyone is going to kill you its going to be me.
- Beautiful male protagonist with female coded trauma is ostracized and ridiculed. Chooses the right thing over the popular thing. Forgoes trappings of privilege for love** and adrenaline.
- Female protagonist is superhumanly loyal with daddy issues, has honest to god complexity as a character, a talented specialist in her field but in a way that seems hard won rather than magical
- They Respect the fuck out of each other first
- Us vs the dark, corrupt universe
- A drive called Quest
- Those flashlights cross like glowing swords, man
- "You're utterly nuts but I hate that I understand you completely"
- (Trauma) sharing is caring
- Probably soulmates but could just as probably end in disaster
- NAME KINK FOR DAYS
- A cascading series of angsty exchanges of self-sacrifice that produces an exquisite swell of emotional climax
**the fact that this love is for his sister is coincidental (I hope)
me: *see’s a post of pics of the jb start of their love scene
me: NO BEAR SCAR BUT SURE A BRUISE HERE AND THERE
👽 ✨ spooky mulder + sister spooky ✨ 🪐
“you want my advice? you’re both crazy. you’re crazy for believing what you believe, and you’re crazy for not believing what he believes.”
‘THE X-FILES’ the erlenmeyer flask (1x24).
You know, Mulder, you are Ahab. You know, it’s interesting you should say that, because I’ve always wanted a peg leg. It’s a boyhood thing I never grew out of. No, I’m not being flippant. I mean, I’ve given this a lot of thought. If you have a peg leg or hooks for hands, you know, maybe it’s enough to simply carry on living, you know, bravely facing life with your disability. It’s heroic just to survive. But without these things, you’re actually expected to make something of your life– achieve something, earn a raise, wear a necktie. So, if anything, I’m actually the antithesis of Ahab. Because if I did have a peg leg, I’d quite possibly be more happy and more content and not feel the need to chase after these creatures of the unknown. And that’s not flippant?
You say marriage, I say biodamp, twin swords, red lights, chuppahs, fbi partners-turned abductee amis-turned fugitives- turned reluctant divorceés-turned "platonic" paranormal paramours par excellence.
(ง'̀-‘́)ง
In which I take Game of Thrones and The X-Files, throw it in a blender, and see what comes out. I have too many ideas for this universe and no talent for plot, so I will probably toss this for a loose combination of vignettes. If I ever finish the thing.
Jaime didn’t know what the hell he was doing in this frozen wasteland. Lannisters were meant for arbor gold, not the arctic cold currently diminishing his anatomical gifts.
Like every waking moment of the last 4 months, it was a fucking cosmic joke.
Jaime had a keen sense of humor but even his habitual smirk freezing on his face. He glared at the towheaded giant who didn’t even know she was a punchline. Brienne Tarth. The abominable snow wench who had dragged him here.
*********************************************
It had been meant to be a simple assignment. One last chance at pleasing Tywin before disinheritance had become a reality rather than an ever threatening cloud on the horizon. Assistant Director Baelish may have been the messenger but Jaime knew his father pulled the strings.
In truth, he hadn’t asked many questions. There was a wench in the basement. A hulking pain in the ass of the FBI brass.
Brienne had been a diversity hire with a distant family connection to Senator Baratheon. No one had expected much of her. The summa cum laude degree from Gullstown, her impressive firing range scores, and terrifying manhandling of her fellow trainees at the Citadel had misled her into thinking herself a field agent.
Her face and wardrobe made it clear to anyone with an ounce of political acumen that a paper cut was as close as she would get to the action.
***********************************************
But then Senator Baratheon’s younger brother had started getting threats signed by the “Warriors of Flame and Shadow.” The general consensus was that it was some religious whackjob. No one had cared enough to keep Tarth off the investigative detail and her family connection put her on the scene when Renly Baratheon was gutted like a stag by a “shadow.”
Her wailing about this “shadow” killer would have been a perfect way to proclaim her hysterical and boot her from the bureau. She should have been another warning tale of a rookie agent who couldn’t handle the big show. But she wouldn’t shut up.
They couldn’t disappear her: no one who had seen her freakish form could forget her. Her superiors had labeled her hopelessly taciturn and awkward. But for Renly she sang like a canary to every news station in town.
She was dogged, tireless, and worst of all, she was right.
Mulder’s first thought upon waking? Scully.
Detour (5x04) | Dreamland (6x04)
Come on pull the trigger Mulder. She shot you, I read in in her files! shoot the little spy!
still looking for the truth