Still exhausted, but what the hell. Where DO you two get your energy? You seem to find it so easy to unfold such little tiny pleated bits of superanalysis. I'm not saying you're overthinking. I'm say I'm presently capable of underthinking at most. But what the hell.
As previously, perhaps repetitively stated, I'm not too intense about specific Mulder/Scully characterizations. If a writer can write, and damn can he write, I'll accept all sorts of twisty stuff. One big and maybe the biggest reason we hyperbolically have the largest and longest fandom in the world is that the canon relationship didn't make any sense. There was all this lovely chemistry, and the crew just pushed and pulled and forgot and turned the lens in some other direction. Here are two perfectly lovely and loveless heterosexuals (with apologies to the slashers) inhabiting not only a lonely office but a positively claustrophobic mutual project involving the possible end of civilization. And they just kind of keep it professional. He teases. She smiles sweetly. There was a birthday party once. Good God. NO ONE BELIEVED YOU, Carter. Of course something was happening, and I doubt it was all that platonic.
But a happy love affair, even a secret one, isn't very dramatic. It must be a tormented, indecisive, denialist relationship. Because M&S's lives are constantly at risk, risking their hearts--as opposed to their virtue, to unearth an overquaint phrase--is perhaps a risk too far. That seems to be how Khyber is playing it. I like it. I like that they sometimes explode into lust but pretend it's just accidental. I enjoy the game of the bed that really isn't his bed. It's one of the very few same-bed scenarios I'll accept, probably because it actually isn't.
I like everything Khyber does. I'm a pushover. I adore the next stories. I can't imagine why they would upset anyone. Perhaps my heart is made of stone. Perhaps I'm happy with the sunlit ending of Sokol. Perhaps I'm just too tired to second-guess Khyber or myself.
Sorry for the whining. The lamp won't fit together.
no subject
As previously, perhaps repetitively stated, I'm not too intense about specific Mulder/Scully characterizations. If a writer can write, and damn can he write, I'll accept all sorts of twisty stuff. One big and maybe the biggest reason we hyperbolically have the largest and longest fandom in the world is that the canon relationship didn't make any sense. There was all this lovely chemistry, and the crew just pushed and pulled and forgot and turned the lens in some other direction. Here are two perfectly lovely and loveless heterosexuals (with apologies to the slashers) inhabiting not only a lonely office but a positively claustrophobic mutual project involving the possible end of civilization. And they just kind of keep it professional. He teases. She smiles sweetly. There was a birthday party once. Good God. NO ONE BELIEVED YOU, Carter. Of course something was happening, and I doubt it was all that platonic.
But a happy love affair, even a secret one, isn't very dramatic. It must be a tormented, indecisive, denialist relationship. Because M&S's lives are constantly at risk, risking their hearts--as opposed to their virtue, to unearth an overquaint phrase--is perhaps a risk too far. That seems to be how Khyber is playing it. I like it. I like that they sometimes explode into lust but pretend it's just accidental. I enjoy the game of the bed that really isn't his bed. It's one of the very few same-bed scenarios I'll accept, probably because it actually isn't.
I like everything Khyber does. I'm a pushover. I adore the next stories. I can't imagine why they would upset anyone. Perhaps my heart is made of stone. Perhaps I'm happy with the sunlit ending of Sokol. Perhaps I'm just too tired to second-guess Khyber or myself.
Sorry for the whining. The lamp won't fit together.