As the hiatus ends and the Foxes emerge from their cocoons, we have an announcement we’d like to make in the language of our people: fanfic.

Show notes:

Here is the text to the fanfic—if you’re looking for a list of the characters appearing in it, scroll past the end. The original idea was for a visit from Mindy’s fanfic creations, but then everybody from Mindy’s OTHER fandoms wanted in on the party, so I let them join too.   —Liz


The Arrival

It was a sleepy afternoon on the tree-lined street. Cars drove by only occasionally, though there were usually a couple of joggers or dog-walkers in sight, making their way through patches of sunlight on their way to or from the busier street at the end of the block. Those passers-by, however, paid little (if any) attention to the man sitting in the shade of a porch, his suit jacket draped over the balustrade and his sleeves rolled above his elbows in the summer heat.

“I thought you said the coffee shop was just around the corner,” he said dryly to his companion as she approached with two lidded cups in hand.

“It is,” she answered on her way up the concrete steps, “but the line was out the door.” She handed him his drink and her newly-freed hand brushed back red hair that had fallen out of place on the walk over. “For coffee. In the summer.”

“They like iced coffee around here, remember?” He peeled the lid off of his cup and blew gently on its contents.

His partner leaned against the balustrade next to him. She started to take a sip of her own coffee, but thought better of it as she felt the heat coming off the plastic lid alone. “Hmm. Maybe we should’ve gone with iced, too,” she muttered. “So, who’s the new arrival?”

Across the street and one or two doors over, a limousine was flanked by several unmarked black cars.

“Man and a woman,” he said, “probably politicians, judging by the look of them. Had a whole stack of presents. They’ve been there a while—oh, here they are.”

The front door across the street opened, and a group of what looked like Secret Servicemen emerged. One particularly serious-looking man scanned the street; his eyes zeroed in on the duo as they sipped their coffees, but after a long moment he turned back to give the all-clear. A stately couple exited the house, impeccably dressed and polished in every expression and movement. The serious agent’s stare softened a little as he opened the limo door for them. The woman entered first, accepting the help of his outstretched hand with a warm, “Thank you, Meecham.” The man clapped the agent affectionately on the shoulder and followed her.

“This is pretty heavy security,” the redhead commented, as the motorcade grumbled to life and pulled away with lights flashing. “What is he, the president?”

“Not in this world,” her companion muttered into his coffee.

“Alright Mulder.” She lowered her coffee and turned toward him. “Are you going to tell me more about why we’re here? Or is it still just a ‘hunch’?”

Scully, it’s not just a hunch,” Mulder sighed. “It’s… a pull. Like we’re meant to be here, right now.”

“But why?” Scully demanded.

“Well,” Mulder said, “that’s what I’m hoping we’ll figure out from here.” He took another sip.

Scully could only manage a long-suffering look—she knew her partner too well to argue the matter any more.

A few minutes later, another group arrived at the house across the street. This time there were only three—two men and a woman, all speaking Spanish. The woman was by far the most enthusiastic, hopping every few steps and cooing giddily as she spoke to the other two. The taller of the men—handsome, fit, and well-dressed—alternated between argument and a begrudging nod at whatever she said, with a twinkle in his eyes that softened whatever he tried to project with his tough-guy swagger. The other man, carrying a wrapped present, watched them both with a contented smile. When they reached the house across the street and started up the porch steps, the tall man hung back. He said something, but it wasn’t to the other two—in fact, he seemed to be talking to no one at all. His friends called him as the door opened—”Lito,” it sounded like—and when he moved to join them, he was grinning broadly.

“Wait,” Scully said, pointing toward the driveway, “Where’d those two come from?”

Another pair of visitors marched around to the front door, seemingly from the side of the house. They had the bearings and markings of military officers; an older balding man in red and black engaged in a sober, matter-of-fact conversation with a woman in blue and gold. They each carried some kind of parcel with them.

“Do you recognize those uniforms?” Mulder asked.

“They’re not from any army I know,” answered Scully.

The woman stepped aside at the front door. “Please, Captain,” they could hear her say, to which the gentleman nodded and responded with, “Thank you, Commander.” She followed him into the house.

As the screen door closed, a yellow Land Rover roared up the street and parked near the house. The car had a roll cage instead of a roof, which was probably best for the massive figures climbing out of the backseat—one barefoot and wearing a frilly pink and white dress (with pink hair to match), the other muscular and leather-clad, whose horns (must be a helmet, Scully decided) needed some detangling from the bars of the Land Rover. The driver, a confident and clean-cut youngster, looked his third passenger over as they hopped onto the sidewalk. “You know,” he told her with a flirty grin, “you clean up really nice.”

He spoke to a pale, dark-haired woman dressed in black, who rolled her eyes. “Fuck you,” was all she said in reply as she shoved a few shopping bags into his arms. What seemed like a light push was enough to bowl him over, and she marched off leaving him buried under a pile of presents as the giants laughed at him.

“Are you alright?” giggled the pink-haired woman. “I won’t say you deserved that, but…”

“HAH!” roared the one with the horns (that WAS a helmet, wasn’t it?) “He’ll live. Come on, kid—pick that up.”

While the kid collected everything, the car itself changed form—and moments later it took on the shape of a blue-skinned, leotard-wearing man with black-and-white hair that stood shock-upright. “Boy, you think THAT hurt, Freddie?” he said to the kid as he peeled yellow contact paper off of himself, “I’m only here because they probably don’t recognize you from the Bottle Match!”

Scully stared at the group as they entered the house. “Mulder, did you see that…?”

“Yeah,” Mulder said, “I can’t believe they sell Land Rovers in that awful color.”

Scully threw a sidelong look at her partner as he took another sip of coffee. “Mulder—”

She was cut short by the clip-clop of hooves coming from the end of the block. A horse-drawn carriage rounded the corner and slowed to a stop at the house across the street. A crowd of sprightly figures poured out a moment later, dressed in breeches and gowns as if they walked straight out of a colonial ball. And they were singing.

“Dear, Jr. Mindy, what to say to you…” sang one.

Mulder straightened up. “Mindy,” he repeated meaningfully.

Scully, too, looked thoughtful. “Why does that name feel familiar?”

As if to add to the surrealism of it all, the colonials were harmonizing now.

“You will come of age with our fanfiction

We’ll ship and fight for you

Your mom may write for you

If you grow into your mom’s addiction

She’ll pass it on to you

She’ll share her words with you

And you’ll blow us all away…”

“Scully… do you remember… ah, when we…”

“No, Mulder,” She said sharply. “We are strictly no-romo.”

He gave her an awkward shrug. “Yeah, but, you know that one time…”

After a moment, Scully’s eyes widened. “…Oh. Right. Now I remember.”

Mulder nodded toward the house across the street. “I think I know who might’ve, ah, inspired that. Like she created us in some way.”

The colonial group was now strutting and dancing their way into the house. “Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now…”

Scully stared thoughtfully at the door that just closed again. “Do you think we should… go in?”

He was staring, too. He nodded.

They gulped down the last of their coffee, left their lookout spot on the porch, and made their way across the street. As they approached the house, they could hear the good time had by all inside–happy memories past, and new memories being made. They climbed the front steps together, and their hands found one another as they reached the door.

“Damn,” Mulder said as Scully knocked.

“What?” she asked quietly.

He looked over at her and smirked. “We didn’t bring a present.”


 

The Foxes send their love to Mindy and Mr. Mindy—and a warm welcome to Jr. Mindy!

[Okay, okay, here’s the list of characters, particularly because I didn’t give myself enough time to write more identifiable cameos for some of them.  -Liz]

Sitting on the porch across the street like Creepers: Agents Mulder & Scully (X-Files)

Leaving the house in a limousine: Frank & Claire Underwood, plus Meechum (House of Cards)

The three Spanish speakers arriving on foot: Lito, Hernando, & Daniela (with a not-quite-appearance by the rest of the cluster) (Sense8)

Uniformed duo mysteriously appearing from off the street: Captain Jean-Luc Picard, (Star Trek: TNG) & Commander Shepard (Mass Effect)

Rollin’ up in a yellow Land Rover: Iron Bull (Dragon Age: Inquisition), Rose Quartz (Steven Universe), Jessica Jones (Jessica Jones TV series), Freddie Prinze Jr. (She’s All That)

The yellow Land Rover what rolled up: Freakazoid (Freakazoid)

Clip-clopping in via carriage and song: The cast of Hamilton

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