Tumgik
#i guess Queequeg gets some humanity but that's it
woozapooza · 3 years
Text
*guy on the tumblr masthead voice* long post ahoy
I was thinking about the post I reblogged recently about how Queequeg is always saving people’s lives, including—not once but twice—Ishmael’s, and it occurred to me that Queequeg’s life-saving abilities aren’t limited to other people. He supposedly saves his own life in “Queequeg in His Coffin”:
But now that he had apparently made every preparation for death; now that his coffin was proved a good fit, Queequeg suddenly rallied; soon there seemed no need of the carpenter’s box: and thereupon, when some expressed their delighted surprise, he, in substance, said, that the cause of his sudden convalescence was this;—at a critical moment, he had just recalled a little duty ashore, which he was leaving undone; and therefore had changed his mind about dying: he could not die yet, he averred. They asked him, then, whether to live or die was a matter of his own sovereign will and pleasure. He answered, certainly. In a word, it was Queequeg’s conceit, that if a man made up his mind to live, mere sickness could not kill him: nothing but a whale, or a gale, or some violent, ungovernable, unintelligent destroyer of that sort.   
It’s a weird event, and the narration acknowledges how weird it is. It would be reckless to assume that Queequeg is being 100% serious in attributing his recovery to pure willpower, let alone to assume that he literally did will himself back to life. But if we don’t want to drown in the impossible question of “what [in this fictional story] is the ‘truth’?” then I think it is reasonable to assume that 1. Queequeg thinks there is some truth in what he’s saying, and 2. he’s right to some extent. I’m sure there are readers who would disagree, but I just think this whole passage is pointless if we refuse to take Queequeg at his word in the slightest. (Also, I’ve just never been the sort of reader who can constantly be like “is THIS real? is THAT real? how can we really Know anything? how can we really trust this character or that character or the author or ourselves?” I’m not into that.) Again, I’m not saying Queequeg actually controls his own health through willpower alone, just that I believe that his desire to keep living plays a role in his ability to rally. Specifically—and tantalizingly—he claims that there is “a little duty ashore” that he needs to attend to. (Again, you COULD argue that we shouldn’t take that claim seriously, but I’m not going to do that because that approach to fiction seems silly and pointless to me.) Contrast this with Ishmael: after his name (or maybe that should be “name”), the first thing we ever learn about him is that he habitually goes to sea specifically for the purpose of “driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation,” which, we soon learn, is basically a euphemistic way of saying “preventing his own suicide.” Both of them take action to keep themselves alive, but in precisely opposite ways: Ishmael, by escaping to the sea; Queequeg, by remembering the land. There are a lot of differences between Ishmael and Queequeg that are just the neutral result of them being two different people with different backgrounds, but this isn’t one of them. I totally get where Ishmael is coming from when he says “If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me,” but the fact of the matter is that humans are land animals and it is very much not healthy or normal to need to escape human civilization, repeatedly, sometimes for years on end, just to keep yourself alive (😢). Ishmael has that problem. Queequeg doesn’t.
Thinking about this difference—how the sea is Ishmael’s last defense against death, and land, or rather society, which is on land, is Queequeg’s—led me to think back on Queequeg’s history as related by Ishmael in “Biographical.” He, like Ishmael, leaves home alone to see the world, but for him, it was an active desire, not a coping mechanism. Furthermore, I could be wrong, but I don’t ever recall Ishmael expressing a desire to see or accomplish something specific. In “Loomings,” he expresses a desire simply to “see the watery part of the world,” and in “The Ship,” he tells Peleg, “I want to see what whaling is. I want to see the world.” I believe him, but that’s a very vague goal. It’s the goal of someone who doesn’t have a lot of direction in their life, a goal, in Ishmael’s case, born of desperation. Contrast this with Queequeg: he experienced “a wild desire to visit Christendom” and “to learn among the Christians, the arts whereby to make his people still happier than they were.” Not only is that a specific goal, the goal of someone with a sense of purpose and of self, it’s a goal that will enrich not only himself but his community. Queequeg wanted to see the world, but with the ultimate goal of coming home. The only reason he hasn’t done so yet (which I guess makes it the only reason he met Ishmael in the first place) is because “he was fearful Christianity, or rather Christians, had unfitted him for ascending the pure and undefiled throne of thirty pagan Kings before him.” Not only is he a lot more stable than Ishmael, he’s also part of a community that he cares deeply about and wants to improve. He isn’t just running away all the time. “Queequeg in His Coffin” ties Queequeg’s persistent will to live with his will to be part of society. Ishmael has neither of those things, at least not consistently, but for a while, he at least has Queequeg to ground him the way the on-land world (on-shore world? you know what I mean) grounds Queequeg.
Those last few sentences sound harsh, but I swear I’m NOT trying to criticize Ishmael; he is the love of my life and we do not know what has happened in his past that has led him to this point but we can assume it’s something and that he’s not just being edgy for the sake of being edgy. My point is just to show how he and Queequeg contrast with each other and how Queequeg is exactly what Ishmael needs and also just a really cool and admirable guy in his own right. While working on this post I actually hit upon another really interesting aspect to their relationship, but I’ll make a separate post about that. 
ALSO!!! While working on this post, I realized that Ishmael and Queequeg have even more in common with a certain other ship of mine than I previously realized. But I’m gonna hold off on specifying who that other ship is, since I have a tiny, silly lil thing in the works that will establish that parallel :)
21 notes · View notes
snicketstrange · 5 years
Text
The Great Unknown 2.0 - I was partly wrong
On May 24, I was eating an octopus at a themed seafood restaurant. All the waiters were wearing clothes by character, and I felt surrounded by an atmosphere of ASOUE. That's when I paid attention to the octopus suction cups on my plate. Then I had a revelation about the Great Unknown. Because of this revelation, I had to read again some texts, I had to consult a marine biologist, a mechanical engineer, and Laerte. Laerte is an English expert, who knew nothing about ASOUE, so his opinion was completely neutral. And after these considerations I came to the conclusion that I was wrong about the Great Unknown, at least in part.
To begin with: Lemony refers to the interrogation format seen in Queequeg's sonar with being an 'underwater craft' (TGG p 85).
Lemony wrote about the first appearance of the question mark:
"There was a third shape of glowing green light, this one the biggest of all, a huge curved tube with a small circle at the end of it, slithering toward the center of the screen like a snake. But this third underwater craft didn't look like a snake."
So ... There's a big difference between believing The Great Unknown is a submarine in 2007 and continuing to believe The Great Unknown is a submarine in 2019. The difference is the ATWQ series of books. ATWQ explains that there is a gigantic marine animal in the form of a question mark, which moves at high speeds, and is able to be controlled by sounds. So a person who continues to believe in 2019 that The Great Unknown is a submarine is consequently a person who believes there is this gigantic animal in the form of questioning, AND ALSO there is a submarine that was built in the form of a gigantic question mark. That is, whoever believes that the Great Unknowing is a submarine, do not fail to believe that there is also a gigantic question-mark animal in the oceans of the universe of ASOUE. And when I thought better of it, I realized that I have no real reason to disagree with it. In fact, it was I who created the theory called "Daniel Handler duplicates events to confuse you". So, from my lunch at the seafood restaurant, I came to believe that Daniel Handler doubled the Great Unknown to confuse us. And this is not just a non-canonical hypothesis. In fact, the Carmelita submarine explains everything.
The first correct question is: Who built the Carmelita submarine?
The second right question is: Why does the Carmelita submarine have no torpedoes?
The third right question is: Why the submarine Carmelita has the shape of a giant octopus?
The fourth correct question is: What did the sailors of the universe of ASOUE look at in the oceans in the shape of a question mark?
But before answering these questions, I need to confirm to explain what I have found about sonars and echolocation systems used by some animals. I believed that when Olaf spoke about the sonar that the huge question-mark entity possessed, he might be talking about a biosonar. But I was wrong. The functioning mechanism of the echolocation of some animals consists of the following: the animal emits a sound, the sound is reflected by the objects, then the animal hears the reflected sound. Even if the object in question does not emit any sound, it will be detected, for what the animal hears is the echo of the sound that it produced. On the other hand, there are artificial sonars of two types. One of them works using the same operating principle as the echolocation system. The other type works by listening for the sound produced by the objects that are detected.
The wikipedia explains thus:
"Two types of technology share the name" sonar ": passive sonar is essentially listening for the sound made by vessels, active sonar is emitting pulses of sounds and listening for echoes."
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonar
Fiona explained which of the two types was the Sonar used at the time in the universe of ASOUE:
"We can tell if any other undersea craft are approaching us by detecting the sounds they make." TGG, chapter 4.
Olaf also did the favor of explaining the kind of sonar that he believed existed in the giant question mark format thing:
"I guess you'd better come with me," the count said wearily. "But no tap-dancing! We don't want to show up on their sonar!" (TGG capítulo 13)
  Thus, Olaf certainly believed that the sound produced by the tap dance could cause the Queequeg or the Carmelita to be detected in their sonar. This means that Olaf was talking about a submarine with passive sonar, not a biosonar.
 So who could have built that submarine in the form of a giant question mark? Certainly it was the same organization that built the sub in the form of giant octopus. In fact, when you come to that conclusion everything starts to make sense. There is an evil organization that is an enemy of both the firefighting side of the Schism and the incendiary side of Schism.
This evil organization has the habit of building submarines in the form of marine beasts. But the most interesting thing is to understand why this organization had this custom.
And to understand this you just have to understand why the Carmelita did not have torpedoes.
And the answer to that question is so cool ... I do not know if I was the first to realize it ... And if I went, I feel really proud of myself.
The answer is that there are no more firearms in the universe of ASOUE, or at least there are no more firearms in the region where the main story takes place.
But the firearms already existed, and were known. In the play "La Fuerza Del Destino" was portrayed a firearm. But at no time during the ASOUE events or during ATWQ, is a firearm portrayed, not even by villains. I'd rather believe that at some point VFD, by fighting against fire, managed to eliminate the technology of building firearms. So the villainous organization that built submarines of war, needed other mechanisms to destroy other submarines and ships, and even airplanes. Olaf explained how the Carmelita worked in this respect:
"This submarine is one of the greatest things I've ever stolen," he bragged. "It has everything I'll need to defeat V.F.D. once and for all. It has a sonar system, so I can rid the seas of V.F.D. submarines. It has an enormous flyswatter, so I can rid the skies of V.F.D. planes. It has a lifetime supply of matches, so I can rid the world of V.F.D. headquarters. It has several cases of wine that I plan to drink up myself, and a closet full of very stylish outfits for my girlfriend. And best of all, it has plenty of opportunities for children to do hard labor!” – TGG chapter 9.
The way the Carmelita attacked the Queequeg, using the tentacles, shows that the submarine was octopus shaped for functional reasons: in addition to allowing navigation, the tantacles were designed to be used as weapons.
But note the detail: Olaf had to steal the Carmelita. Did he steal from VFD? I think not. One reason is this excerpt from Chapter 9:
. "I'm going to lock all of you in the brig, which is the official seafaring term for Jail." "We know what the brig is," Klaus said. "Then you know it's not a very pleasant place," the villain said. "The previous owner used it to hold traitors captive, and I see no reason to break with tradition."
The idea I have about this dialogue is that the owner already owned a place intended for traitors ... As if that was already part of the submarine's design. It is unlikely that you will create a submarine already thinking there will be several uprisings in the crew, and already create a place to arrest those who revolt if the organization that you are part of is formed by volunteers. However, if your crew is made up of slave laborers, this is more likely. If you stop to think about the means of Carmelita propulsion, you will realize that it was designed to be moved to human labor. In fact, the whole scenario of children being rowing to move the submarine, is very reminiscent of a type of real vessel, called Galley. The wiki explains:
 "A galley is a type of ship that is propelled mainly by rowing. The galley is characterized by its long, slender hull, shallow draft and low freeboard (clearance between sea and railing). Virtually all types of galleys had sails that could be used in favorable winds, but human strength was always the primary method of propulsion. Galleys were the warships used by the early Mediterranean naval powers, including the Greeks, Phoenicians and Romans.... It was only in the early 16th century that the modern idea of the galley slave became commonplace. Galley fleets as well as the size of individual vessels increase in size, which required more rowers. ... All major Mediterranean powers sentenced criminals to galley service, but initially only in time of war."
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galley
 If you've already watched Ben Hur you must remember his scene in a Galley. Well then, the Carmelita was built like a Galley. VFD would not do that. Queequeg's propulsion does not require a large crew, only one captain and two crew members. Did the Carmelita come from the incendiary side of Schism? No. Olaf would not need to steal the Carmelita from the incendiary side. The Netiflix Series left those details aside. They showed that the Carmelita came from members of the incendiary side of Schism, but for this they needed to change the original story. In the books, the Carmelita was stolen by Olaf. He can only have stolen from another organization.
And then things get more interesting.
We come to realize that there is a relationship of cause and effect: Why was an entity in the form of a gigantic question mark chasing after the Carmelita? And why was Olaf so afraid of this entity? And why was Windershins so afraid? The answer is as follows: Olaf stole the Carmelita from a maligian organization, which builds war submachines and uses slave laborers. This organization sent an even larger submarine than the Carmelita, to be able to capture the Carmelita back. This even larger submarine had been built in the shape of a legendary monster: Bombinating Beast.
This explains this passage from Chapter 4 of TGG:
"What was that third shape?" Violet asked. The captain shook his head again. "Something very bad," he said. "Even worse than Olaf, probably. I told you Baudelaires that there is evil you can not even imagine."
 The organization that controlled that submarine was a common enemy of Olaf and VFD.
 And now is the time for me to refer to another movie. The Bugs Life, 1998. (In the Bugs Life, you should remember that the ants have built a mechanical device to simulate a bird. The mechanical passer should cut down the locusts. This bird had used several ant-children as a means of propulsion and control. In a way, this is very reminiscent of the Carmelite. But in The Bugs Life, the real bird arrives and kills the villain at the end. It was something that would happen at the hotel.
I still believe that within the sugar bowl there is a whistle capable of controlling the true beast. I still believe that Beatrice summoned the real beast shortly after picking up the sugar bowl, and who came to control it.
This explains why Windershins first feared the entity in the form of interrogation. He said it was probably worse than Olaf. The word "probably" indicates that he had doubts, whether it was the real beast, or whether it was the evil organization's submarine. If it was the submarine, it would really be worse than Olaf. But the beast was just an animal. Although it was mortal, the animal was not worse than Olaf. After the destruction of the Queequeg, Windershins bet that the question mark was the animal being controlled, and therefore went to meet the animal. And one of Quaqumire said the name "Violet", showing that they were right: Someone like Violet was in the beast's mouth. But if it was the submarine, they would be dead. The certainty of Windershins came from the fact that he had already been taken by the woman who owned the sugar bowl. She invoked the Great Unknown. And by the way, Lemony called this animal that way, because it came across him in his teens. The sailors had seen from time to time the gigantic question mark, because it was actually a submarine created to resemble a legendary monster. Hector went to investigate one of these submarine appearances in the ocean using his balloon. Ah, another interesting detail: by creating submarines in the form of animals, the evil organization made sailors not even suspect the existence of submarines. They thought they were giant animals.
But the right question is: has the animal known as Bombinating Beast been around for a long time, or was it a hangfire creation? Because the statuette that imitates the sound of the Bombinating Beast has been around for a long time, we can conclude that it had existed for a long time. However, Hangfire picked up a rare animal that already existed, and made experiments so that it would get much bigger and much more frightening. The original animal was supposed to be the size of a manatee, so many of Moxie's ancestors did not believe that their ancestor had actually captured a monster, just a manatee. In the same way that legends of giant octopuses arose, there were legends of the giant Bombinating Beast. These legends inspired the evil organization to create its submarines, and inspired Hangfire to come up with a scientific method to increase the size and ferocity of the true Bombinating Beast.
So that's all.
854 notes · View notes
snickerl · 5 years
Text
Of Monsters and Men, and a Woman - Part II.
- Wine smells better than smoke. -
I was asked to write a sequel. I’m sorry it took me so long. Life, work, and a three-week-vacation in Scotland got in the way but here it is now. If you want to familiarize yourself with part I, you will find it here. 
Tagging @today-in-fic
————————–
Jackson didn’t know how long he had been looking outside lost in thought. Next to him in the back seat of the car, Dana was sleeping peacefully. Her head was tilted to the side so her face was turned to him. Jackson studied her face and recognized features he saw when he looked in the mirror: the freckles on her nose, the high cheekbones, the angular jaw. His hair had been reddish as a child but had become darker once he had hit puberty. The color resembled Mulder’s more now, who was sitting in the front steering silently. Jackson looked at the back of his birth father’s head and realized their hair was pretty much alike: dark brown, thick, shiny. He hadn’t shared any resemblances with his mama and pops. Of course not, they had been his adoptive parents, these were the parents whose genetic material he shared. 
Maybe he should stop talking about them like this, labeling them his adoptive versus his birth parents. Maybe it was time to accept he had two sets of parents. One that had raised him and had given him the best childhood he could think of, and one who had always been there and had always cared about him but only now had the ability to act as parents. It broke his heart when he thought about how cruelly the Van De Kamps had been murdered but it also filled him with immense relief to know that he wasn’t alone. And this Mulder-and-Scully duo (he still found it a bit weird that they called each other by their last names) gave him the impression they knew what they were doing. They seemed capable of standing up to his enemies. They sure stood up against that smoking jerk, especially Dana, no matter how hopeless their situation had appeared to be or that she was so much smaller physically.
The car was coming to a halt in front of a steel gate. Mulder turned around and looked at him. “Would you mind opening that gate for me, Jackson?" 
"Not at all,” Jackson said unbuckling his seat belt. “Do you see the input box at that pole over there? The code it 1013. And close it again behind us, please. Make sure it’s securely locked.” “Yes, sir,” Jackson couldn’t help replying to the more than explicit request. He jumped out of the car and pushed the gate open. It was heavy and creaked quite a bit. He wondered where they were. It was pitch dark, the headlights of the car were the only source of light, they hadn’t come by any sign of human habitation for the past half hour, and now these security measures. Jackson asked himself where they were taking him. Mulder drove slowly through the gate Jackson was holding and waited until he had pushed it back shut. The boy heard a click and rattled it a little to check if the bolt had latched completely. The light at the input pad, which had turned green when he had typed in the code, switched back to red. Everything seemed fine, so he hopped back in the car. “When Dana said you had a house in the countryside I didn’t expect it to be that far away from human civilization,” Jackson deadpanned while buckling up again. He had no idea how much longer the trip would be. Mulder chuckled. “Yeah, well, we’ve come to appreciate a certain quiet and isolation from the rest of the world. There was a time we didn’t want to be found. By anyone.”   Jackson let the words sink in. What was he to make of them? Had they been in a situation like this before? Having to flee and hide from people pursuing them? He didn’t have time to ponder about it much longer as a few minutes later a house came into view. A nice two-story building with gray roofing shingles, green wooden window frames, and a porch. A lamp illuminated the steps leading up to the front door. The place looked cozy and inviting. It actually reminded Jackson a bit of his first home, the Van De Kamp farmhouse in Wyoming, only that it had been much larger with stables for cattle and pasture lands surrounding it, but the place had evinced the same emotions in him: homecoming, comfort, safety. 
Mulder parked the car in front of the porch and cut the engine. He turned around in his seat, looked at Scully who was still sleeping, smiled, then squeezed her knee gently. “Hey, sleepyhead, wake up. We’re home.” It was inconceivable that she was able to sleep after what had happened, Jackson thought. She either had been totally drained or so full of trust for that Mulder guy. Said Mulder guy obviously knew what Jackson was thinking. “She can stay awake for more than 36 hours straight if need be, on a stakeout or at a patient’s bed in the hospital, but in a car when she’s not driving or reading a case file, she’s asleep in no time. It’s a gift. I wished I was able to do that. I am a notoriously bad sleeper.” Mulder got out of the car, opened the door in the back and bent down to pull her sleeping form out when she stirred. Her eyes opened abruptly, she lifted her head and straightened herself up. “Mmmm, I must have dozed off for a second,” she said, her voice a sleepy mumble. “Yes, sure, Scully. Just for a second, as always,” Mulder said. Jackson bit back a chuckle. This was obviously a well-known, recurring pattern in their lives. Scully shook her head a little to get rid of the last remnants of sleep and swatted Mulder’s hand away from her knee. “Now let me get out. You weren’t thinking of carrying me, were you?” Mulder put his hands up as if he had been told to freeze. He got up from his bent posture, stepped back and sighed. “No, of course not. Heaven forbid that you are not in charge for a split-second.”   Mulder was annoyed for a moment. Why was it so difficult for her to let him carry her, either figuratively or literally? She had allowed herself to be weak in his arms a few times lately: in the morgue after she had given her speech to what they had believed was their long-lost son in a body bag or in the motel when she hadn’t been able to sleep during that hangman case. She had even admitted her fear that he might find someone else one day. Someone else…what nonsense! As if there could ever be anyone else for Mulder than Scully.   Jackson noticed the slight tension between them but was distracted from thinking about it by a high-pitched barking. “You have a dog?” he asked, his memory going back to the dog he had as a child: Champ, a Golden Retriever who had followed his every step.
“Yes,” Mulder answered, “his name is Daggoo. He’s Scully’s actually. She stole him from a crime scene.” “I didn’t steal him. I saved him from the animal shelter,” Scully defended herself. “Secretly scheming to move him in with me because you weren’t allowed to have pets at your place.” “Oh come on, you’ve got so much more space and you can’t deny that walking him three times a day is doing you good.” “I’ve always loved how you’re able to manipulate people into thinking something’s good for them when it’s actually good for you,” Mulder said with a smile on his lips. “I don’t have to remind you what happened to Queequeg, Mulder, do I? You owed me.”   Mulder only sighed at Scully’s stern look. 
Jackson had followed their banter, glad on the one hand that the moment of tension had subsided, but also irritated that they had been talking of my place/your place. He had thought they were living together, that they were a couple. They had had him, made him ‘in an act of love’ as Dana had said, they had to have been together at some point. Had they ever been married? Their different last names left him guessing.   Mulder had opened the front door in the meantime. A white/brown terrier was jumping down the stairs yelping happily and wiggling his tail so much that his whole body was shaking heavily; as if he knew they were coming home from a dreadful endeavor and needed some cheering up. Jackson’s eyes lit up when he saw him and because dogs sensed instinctively who liked them and who didn’t he made toward the boy immediately and jumped up against his legs. “Daggoo, down!” Scully berated him but Jackson wasn’t minding the animal’s affection one bit. “It’s okay, I love dogs,” he said kneeling down petting him behind his ears. “Good boy,” he cooed, “you’re such a beauty, do you know that?” Daggoo licked his hand in return. It was love at first sight between them obviously. Mulder and Scully exchanged a short glance, relief written on their faces. Their dog (they could banter as much as they wanted about 'my dog/your dog’, he really and truly was theirs) had conjured a bright smile on their son’s face for the first time since they had been reunited and they enjoyed seeing him so cheerful. Each of them made a silent promise to themselves to do everything in their power to make Jackson’s life happy and carefree again. They watched the boy and the dog for a moment longer, then Mulder ushered everyone inside. Jackson looked around and felt instantly at home. The living room wasn’t tidied up, there were magazines lying around everywhere, a greasy pizza carton resided atop a coffee table and a blanket had been thrown haphazardly on the couch, but that was exactly what made the place homey. Scully saw it slightly differently though. “Goodness, when did you last clean this place up, Mulder?” Bang! Another sign she wasn’t living here. Jackson slowly familiarized himself with the idea that his birth parents - his parents - weren’t a couple. What would this mean for him? Would they take turns caring for him? Like his best friend Pete spent his weekends alternately at his mom’s and dad’s? Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to have called for them after all. But where would he be now without them? With the Smoking Man? Believing this asshole was his father? Jackson’s insides tied a knot. No, he was definitely better off with them than without, no matter what the status of their relationship was. In any case, they were on good terms with each other, that much was clear. They would have to join forces to make this work for him. They owed him that much after they had given him up for adoption, didn’t they? “I don’t mind the mess,” he came to Mulder’s rescue. “No, of course, you don’t,” Scully mumbled more to herself than to Jackson, “you’re also a man. I will never understand how one can live in such a mess. What has gone wrong in evolution to burden us with such a neglectful gender when it comes to housework?” She sighed deeply, picking up the pizza carton and throwing it into a trash can. She opened a cabinet, took a cleaning rag out, opened another one which contained the cleaning agents, soaked the rag with water and dishwashing liquid, wrung it out above the sink, then started wiping the coffee table. At least she knew her way around the place, Jackson thought. If she really didn’t live here, she was a frequent guest at least. She definitely moved around as if she was at home. She was folding the blanket now and placed it on the couch’s backrest before she took care of the throw pillows, shaking them out and arranging them in an orderly fashion. “See, this is something we men will never understand. What is the purpose of an exact arrangement of pillows on a sofa?” Mulder asked shedding his dirty jacket and throwing it carelessly on a chair. “Can you explain to me the scientific nature of pillow arranging, Dr. Scully?” “It looks nice and tidy, Mulder. It’s aesthetic. It makes the place appear maintained instead of neglected and run-down,” she explained slightly irritated. And as if to strengthen her point, she lifted the jacket off the chair with two fingers and left the room. A moment later a loud thud could be heard, most likely the door of the washing machine.  
Jackson threw Mulder a glance who only shrugged. This was all very familiar to the boy, he had witnessed interactions like this a million times between his parents. His other parents. Jeez, having four parents instead of two wasn’t easily put into words. Scully re-entered the living room where Mulder and Jackson were still standing at the same spot, only Daggoo had moved and was making himself comfortable on one of the cushions she had just arranged. She looked at him and sighed, “et tu, Brute?” Jackson didn’t know what that meant and he also didn’t care that much. He was hungry. He hadn’t had a decent meal in days having been on the run from his pursuers. “Uhm, you said we could have something to eat,” he reminded them. “Right, sure. I’m afraid the fridge isn’t well-stocked,” Mulder said and Scully chuckled loudly enough to strengthen her point about men and housekeeping. “But we can order something in. What would you like, Jackson? Italian, Thai? Or a burger maybe?” “A burger would be great. With bacon and cheese, if it’s possible.” “Sure. Fries?” Jackson nodded and watched how Mulder pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Wasn’t he going to ask what Dana wanted, he wondered. She didn’t seem to ask herself the same though. Uninvolved in the process of deciding on the food, she slipped out of her shoes, put her feet on the coffee table, reached over to Daggoo and started petting him gently. Jackson listened as Mulder placed his order. “Two deluxe double bacon cheeseburgers, please. Onion rings, two large orders of regular fries and one of the sweet potato fries. Make the sweet fries unsalted. A mixed salad with extra arugula instead of the radicchio, no onions but mushrooms, and the non-fat Italian dressing. …  Deliver, please. The name is Mulder. 227700 Wallace Road, Farrs Corner. …  Yes, I know how far out it is. Tell Pete to give me a call when he’s at the gate. I will meet him down there. He knows the procedure. … Thanks. Bye.” He winked at Jackson when their eyes met and added, “Pete knows he gets a generous tip.” It didn’t go unnoticed by Jackson that Mulder knew exactly what to order for Dana, and her choice wasn’t exactly mundane. The sweet potato fries were also for her, he presumed. Which real guy ate sweet potato fries? Unsalted, to top it. And if messy homes were typical for men, salads with non-fat dressings were typical for women. No wonder she was so tiny and thin. If her diet had consisted more of greens than anything since her youth, her body had simply lacked the nutrients to grow. At least that was what mama had always told him. “Eat your steak and potatoes, Jackson, so you grow up fit and strong!” He was glad he had inherited his height from Mulder and not from Dana. Small women were cute and evoked a man’s protective instinct (Jackson was sure though that she hated her stature had this effect on men) but small men were a target of mockery. He was even taller than Mulder, and he was only seventeen. Maybe he would still grow a couple of inches. When Mulder got back with dinner, Scully and Jackson had already laid the table. They ate mostly in silence, Mulder and Jackson eating with their hands gobbling down their food like hungry wolves, Scully picking listlessly at her salad with a fork. The unsalted sweet potato fries remained untouched but Jackson watched how delicate manicured fingers made their way into the box with the regular fries. She put a handful of the salty, greasy food into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, licked her fingers with relish, which was then followed by a satisfied hum. Mulder didn’t even look up as all of this happened, he registered it out of the corner of his eye and just smirked slightly. Jackson couldn’t help but think that they acted so much like a married couple; as if they had known each other for years and years. How could they not be living at this place together? Well, he would get more hints about their relationship once the sleeping arrangements were discussed. When they had finished their food and Scully got up to clear the table, Mulder grabbed her wrist and made her sit back down. “Nuh-uh, Scully, let the neglectful gender take care of this. How about you make yourself comfortable on the sofa with Daggoo?” “Nice idea, Mulder, but someone has to change the sheets in the guest room. I can’t see you taking care of this after my last sleepover.” With this, she vanished into the hallway and left Mulder and Jackson alone with a very uncomfortable silence. Finally, Jackson addressed the elephant in the room. He needed clarity anyway, he might as well ask. 
“I thought you guys were married.” “Uh, no, we’re not.” “So you’re divorced.” Jackson simply assumed they had to be divorced if they weren’t married. They had a child together, him, so they had to be married sometime in the past. He wasn’t prudish or anything, he knew people had sex without being married, but where he came from people got married when they wanted to have children. “No. We…erm, we never got married.” “Well, it makes sense then,” Jackson said. “What makes sense?” “That your last names are different.” “Our last names don’t have much to do with it, actually. Even if we had gotten married, I doubt we would ever have been Mr. and Mrs. Mulder. I guess we simply missed the right moment to tie the knot. I asked her once to marry me but she didn’t believe I was serious.” “Were you?” “Hmm…I don’t know. Maybe not a hundred percent. But if she’d said yes, I wouldn’t have regretted asking.” “And the topic has never come up again?” “No.” “Not even from her?” “No.” “Strange. I thought all women wanted to get married and have kids.” “Scully isn’t like other women. Her independence is very important to her. We weren’t any less committed to each other because we weren’t married, that’s for sure. Maybe that’s why. Our commitment to one another was so strong, we didn’t need a wedding certificate to prove it.” “Whatever, you spared yourselves an ugly divorce with your separation.” “What makes you think we’re separated?” “Well, you’ve been talking about 'mine’ and 'yours’ a lot, like separated people do. Daggoo is her dog that cannot stay at her place but needs to stay at yours. The mess we stumbled into also was yours, Dana made that clear. And she sleeps in the guest room. All of that cries out 'separation’. I have a good power of observation.” Jackson had seen it happening to a friend’s family. Everything that had belonged to the family before became branded with 'mine’ and 'yours’ all of a sudden. His friend’s mom even sawed through the leather couch with a chainsaw just to get even with her former husband who had cheated on her. “Hmm, you have a point but…uhm, how is the fact she’s called this our house when we were in the car fit into your theory?” “Freudian slip?” Mulder chuckled. “That would never happen to Scully.” Looking at Jackson’s puzzled face he added, “I’m sorry, pal, this must all be very confusing. This is our house, we bought it together and lived in it together. We lived like a married couple for many years and people mistook us as married many times but we never actually were married.” “Lived. Not live. Like in we did that in the past but not anymore.” Mulder sighed heavily before he answered. “Right, that’s over. Look, Jackson, our lives have always been…difficult and complicated. Due to our work. There was a time we thought we could leave it all behind us, at least Scully did. She wanted a restart so badly. She’d lost so much because of our work, most importantly you, and all she wanted was normalcy. A job, a home, a partner to share her life with. And I tried to give it to her, all of it, but I failed her. I couldn’t let go of my quest for the truth, and I ruined everything. So, one day the inevitable happened: she packed her things and left to save herself from being pulled underwater with me. She needed to get out of here to be able to breathe. But Scully wouldn’t be Scully if she left me to my fate. She still cared. She looked after me and helped me find my way again.” “And what’s your status now? I mean, you take care of her dog, you know exactly what food to order for her, she stays over…” “We’ve never stopped being friends. We’ve never stopped…caring deeply for each other. She just doesn’t live here anymore.”   Mulder felt a bit awkward talking to his son so openly about his romantic feelings for Scully, that they had never stopped loving each other, but the boy deserved to know, didn’t he? “I just don’t want to impose.” “Impose?” Mulder didn’t understand. His face apparently showed his puzzlement because Jackson explained, “I don’t want to force the two of you together, you know. I don’t want you to think you have to do all this,” he was fidgeting with his hands in the air making clear he meant what was happening at this very moment in this house, “just because of me.” “Just because of you?” Mulder parroted, disbelief threaded into his voice. “Are you crazy, Jackson? You are the best thing that ever happened to us. You’ve been our miracle. The time you were with us was the happiest time of our lives. It was much too short, especially for me, but neither of us ever wanted to miss it. We’ll figure this out. We’ll figure us out. You simply have to trust us. I know it’s not easy after what we’ve done but…” Mulder stopped abruptly when Scully’s purposeful steps could be heard on the floorboard. She was making her way back to them and he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know of Jackson’s concerns about their relationship and his staying with them. “Your room is all set, Jackson,” she said entering the living room. “It’s upstairs on the right. I left a towel on the bed in case you’d like to take a shower. Is there anything else you need?” The delight in her eyes told Mulder how much she enjoyed doing this and the thought that their son felt uncomfortable about it clasped his heart with a cold fist. “Thanks,” was all Jackson mumbled. He didn’t even look at Scully. She either didn’t notice or didn’t want to acknowledge it. She continued undeterred, “if you need anything, we’ll be down here. Just ask.” He did ask, laying his finger right into the wound. “Where are you guys sleeping? Just in case I need something at night.” The question was dangling between them for a moment, both Scully and Mulder taken off guard by the directness of it. Jackson held his breath, quite aware it was a delicate issue. He wondered who would take the initiative and answer, and, of course, how. It was Mulder who was able to find his voice again. “The master bedroom is also upstairs, at the other side of the hallway,” he answered, avoiding the issue of who would be sleeping in there. He wasn’t sure what Scully’s sleeping arrangement would look like. They had shared a bed a few times recently - platonically and two times not so platonically - but she hadn’t moved back in. On her nights over she had always insisted they slept apart, Mulder in the master bedroom and her in the guest room. They were far from resuming their romantic relationship. He wasn’t even sure if they were in anything other than a relationship of friendly co-workers. Or co-working friends? Well, they were co-working best friends formerly lovers, if he was precise. To him, she was still his constant, his touchstone, that had never ceased to be the truth, but he wasn’t sure what she saw in him. Well, he could go around the status of their relationship over and over until he went mad, whatever it was, it was so them: complicated, in-flux, undefined. Mulder caught Jackson’s questioning look and held it, hoping he would leave it at that. He didn’t want Scully to feel obliged to explain or even defend herself. They were all exhausted from what had happened in the factory, now wasn’t the time to discuss their long-term future. They needed sleep and when they were replenished, they could have a talk. To Mulder’s immense relief, he watched how tiredness was overwhelming Jackson. His eyelids drooping, he yawned extensively. Mulder let the breath out he had been holding when Jackson finally acquiesced. “Okay, I think I should get some shut-eye.” With this, the boy turned around and headed for the stairs. Mulder and Scully looked after him. Their eyes remained trained at the top of the stairs until their son disappeared from their view. They listened to a door open and close and eventually to the shower being turned on. “Goodnight, my son,” Scully whispered to herself, hiccuping a sob which awakened Mulder from his trance-like state. He looked at her and realized she was shaking. The last few weeks were finally taking their toll on her. Mulder knew how much it took to make Scully break down. What had happened since she had realized her seizure was caused by her lost son who tried to communicate with her definitely was enough to make her falter. She was inches away from shattering into a million pieces, like a crystal glass bursting to a high note sung by an opera singer. Mulder turned toward her and pulled her into an embrace. The willingness with which she was giving in told him he had assessed the situation correctly. She melted into him, laying her head against his chest. She wasn’t wearing her heels anymore and their height difference was at its maximum expression. Mulder had always loved it when she was like that, bare of all the paraphernalia of Professional Scully. She allowed only a handful of people to see her without the makeup to hide her freckles and the sensual mole on her upper lip, the business suit to cover her feminine curves, and the heels to make her taller than she actually was. And he was lucky to be one of those few people. They stayed like this, mute and still, for a long time. Eventually, Scully took a deep breath and pulled back, a clear sign she had regained her strength. But she didn’t let go of Mulder completely. She looked into his eyes and smiled. “How about a glass of red wine, Mulder? I think I’m too stirred up to be able to sleep although I’m totally drained. Do you have a nice bottle somewhere?” “What about the one Skinner gave us when we signed the sales contract for this house?” “You still have that bottle?” “It’s a Châteauneuf-du-Pape, it needs to rest a long time. Wine of this quality gets better with age. Just like us,” he added with a smile. “I’ve waited for the right moment to open it and if this is not a good moment to have a first-class wine I don’t know what is. You make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’ll go and fetch it.” He knew exactly where the bottle was, where he had put it all those years ago when Skinner had handed it to him with a smile on his face. Their boss had been as happy and confident as them that settling permanently into a house would be the beginning of a new life for them. It hadn’t come quite as they all had hoped. With Mulder sliding into a depression and Scully thriving as a doctor in her new job they had slowly grown apart. Funny that a relationship so unique as theirs had been susceptible to a development so cliché. But that had been then and now was now. Their son was sleeping peacefully upstairs, they were on the right track repairing their relationship, this was the perfect moment to open this bottle. When he returned from the pantry where he had indeed found the 2008 Châteauneuf-du-Pape exactly where he thought it would be, Scully had already resumed her place on the couch next to Daggoo who was snoring slightly in his sleep. A corkscrew and two red wine glasses were waiting for them on the coffee table, most certainly placed on coasters. Scully hated stains on the table’s surface. Mulder placed himself next to her and leaned his back against the backrest. He was holding the bottle in his hands and looked at the label. Skinner had written something on it which had faded over time and was hardly legible anymore. He pulled his new glasses out - progressives, no bifocals - and tried to decipher the words. He had never been good at reading Skinner’s scribble, Scully was so much better at it. “Scully, can you read this?” he asked, passing the bottle to her. She looked at the label and squinted. “I think so,” she said. She didn’t even need glasses. “What does it say? Are you going to tell me?” “It says, 'Always remember who your friends are. Skinner.’ That’s it.” Mulder took the bottle back to open it. He carefully inserted the corkscrew, cautious not to damage the cork which could be brittle after such a long time. After he had pulled it out, he checked for a corky smell but it seemed fine. He poured some of the red liquid into their glasses, the rest into a decanter. The wine would need time to breathe to develop its full taste. He handed a glass to Scully, they clinked, then put the glasses to their lips. Scully only hummed when the liquid was running down her throat, Mulder clicked his tongue. “Jeez, this is good,” he said. “It sure is,” she agreed. “What he wrote on the label makes me think, Mulder.” “Think what?” “That Skinner has always been our friend. That we’ve been unfair to him probably, having thought he betrayed us. Remember when he came to the hospital after my seizure and you started a fight with him?” “He’d acted weird and he did smell like smoke.” “Yes, he did, but we should’ve given him credit instead of assuming he’d be working against us. Looking back at it now, I believe that he was indeed coming to us after a meeting with the Smoking Man, a meeting where he had probably been told about Spender’s deluded idea that he was Jackson’s biological father. Skinner tried to keep this information from us, Mulder. He tried to protect us from it. He has always been our friend, and we were too paranoid to see it.” “We weren’t paranoid, Scully. The threat was real. I had just stopped a man from suffocating you by cutting his throat and then Skinner came stumbling in after having been unreachable for hours, smelling like smoke and wearing a face so explicitly blank…what were we supposed to make of it?” “And still, we should’ve known that he would never switch sides. He’s an honest soul who’s covered our asses more than once.”
“That’s true enough, but when it comes to you, Scully, I will never risk trusting the wrong people.” “Trust no one, huh?” “That motto saved our lives a few times.” Some of the occasions he was referring to came to Scully’s mind. She put the glass to her lips with a sigh and took another sip. The wine had breathed enough already to develop some of the rich, red-fruit aroma and herbaceous note for which it was famous. Scully hummed delightfully. “This really is a good wine, Mulder. I’m glad you remembered you had this in your pantry. You’re not stocked as badly as I thought,” she teased him.   Under normal circumstances, Mulder would have taken her remark as the opening of one of their casual banters but the circumstances weren’t normal. His son was resting safely upstairs in the guest room, or rather the son he had always believed was his. He had heard things tonight that made him doubt his fatherhood. “Is it really true, Scully?” he asked abruptly without any adequate introduction. “Is what true, Mulder?” “That I am his father?” Scully took a sharp intake of breath. She set her glass aside, turned toward Mulder and looked him in the eye. She then took his glass out of his hand and placed it next to hers on the coffee table. Taking his hands in hers, feeling his slight tremor, she gave them a reassuring squeeze before she started speaking.   “Yes, you are his father. I’d been feeling it so strongly from the moment I was told that I was pregnant. You were missing, then gone, and for so many months I believed the baby growing inside me was to be my only connection to you. I knew it was yours.”   “But you ran multiple tests anyway.” “You know me, I seek proof of what I want myself to take as fact. And I got myself proof. I am a thorough scientist, Mulder, my proof is one hundred percent reliable. You are Jackson’s father, the DNA doesn’t lie. If you want, and if Jackson is okay with it, we can do another paternity test.” “No, I trust your scientific evaluation, Scully. I always have.” They smiled at each other briefly before Scully’s expression changed. Mulder’s face had been the one marked by worry a moment ago, now it was hers. “Do you think he will stay with us?” she voiced her concern. “I hope so.” “We just got him back,” Scully whispered close to tears, “I don’t want to lose him again.” “Me neither, but I guess him sleeping upstairs is a good sign. He trusts us. He protected me when he…erm, got rid of those Purlieu people coming after us.” “You mean when he made their bodies explode?” “Yeah, well, our son does have extraordinary abilities. Given all the weird stuff I’ve seen, this wins first prize but what I was getting at is that he made sure I wasn’t harmed. And today he also got us out of there. He wants us to able to be there for him.” “I hope you’re right. If I could be his mother again…” Scully hiccuped. “You have always been his mother, Scully. Maybe he isn’t aware of it, but I am.” “Thank you, Mulder.” They gazed at each other and Mulder’s heart was overflowing with compassion for Scully. How much had this woman had to endure? How come she was still sane and hadn’t gone completely mad after what life had burdened her with? He admired her so much for her strength.   “Jesus Christ, I so want to kiss you right now, Scully. May I?" 
Anxiety over possible rejection was creeping up Mulder’s spine when a tear started running down her cheek but he had to finish what he had started. When she nodded, more tears spilling, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her as softly as he could. This wasn’t about passion but about companionship, about a life lived together, about an unwavering feeling of love for her. 
"We will make this work, Scully. I am sure of it. You, me, and Jackson. We will make this…this family thing work. Maybe he will never call us mom and dad but somehow we will manage to be parents to him.”
Scully leaned into Mulder and put her head on his shoulder. She hummed silently and took another sip of wine. 
“This is nice, Mulder. You and me together here on this couch, this wonderful wine, our son upstairs in the room I had always thought would have been his if things had been different.” Mulder thought back to his earlier conversation with Jackson, how insecure the boy had been about their current relationship and how he fit in. 
“Let’s give it try, Scully. Let’s give Jackson a stable structure, something which comes close to what he had with his adoptive parents. He still is a kid, he shouldn’t have to doubt where he belongs. I want him to feel he belongs to us. Move back in.” His words echoed in the silence that followed. Mulder couldn’t see her reaction to his bold suggestion as Scully’s head was nestled against the spot where his shoulder met his neck. He already feared he had pushed too hard when he heard her whisper, “but there’s no extra room for me anymore.” “Do we really need an extra room? The guest room has always been intended to be his, not yours. Our bed is too big for me alone, it never felt good sleeping in it on my own. I wish for nothing more than us being together again. Not only as co-workers but as partners. Life partners. We could make it legal even, maybe adopt him back if we can. We could be a family. Officially, for everyone to see. The Mulders. Or the Scullys, if you want. I don’t care. I only care about us, us three being together.” Scully straightened and pushed herself back from Mulder. She looked at him with wide eyes. Putting her hand on his forehead, she stammered, “are…are you running a f-fever, Mulder?” “I’m in my right mind, and I am serious.” “Fox William Scully?” she offered, giving him her trademark arching eyebrow. “Mr. Dana Scully,” he replied with a boyish grin, “sounds good to me.” Scully brushed a tear off her cheek and laughed. “I’ll ask you again tomorrow when you’re down from your high; whatever caused it.” Mulder left it at that. He knew there was no use arguing now. She probably needed time to let his suggestion sink in, or rather his proposal. He had really and truly proposed to her! How many years had he waited now to pop the question a second time? What an irony that again she didn’t believe he meant what he said, that he was under the influence of something clouding his judgment. She couldn’t be further from the truth. He was as sober and clear in his head as humanly possible and he had no problems at all asking her again tomorrow. He would ask her as often as necessary until she considered his proposal to be credible. Scully nestled back into Mulder’s side and put her feet on the coffee table. He placed his long legs alongside hers, his thigh touching hers. When her head was back at its prior resting place on his shoulder he kissed her hair. This was exactly how it was supposed to be, he didn’t need more to be happy. Scully in his arms, hopefully, his wife-to-be, his son upstairs in the second bedroom, and the prospect of a family life. It almost ached physically to imagine a happy future was waiting for him around the corner. And then Scully said something that made his heart skip a beat. 
“You should ask Skinner to be your best man.” Now it was Mulder who dissolved their snuggling position. Sitting up straight with eyes wide as saucers and his heart in his mouth, he stammered, “what? Was…was that a yes, Scully? Do I have to check you for fever now?” She laughed wholeheartedly, a sound which had always made his heart swell. “If you could only see your face, Mulder! There’s terror written all over it. You haven’t seen this coming, have you, Mr. Scully?” “You always keep me guessing.” Mulder resumed his prior position next to her. He took her free hand which rested on her thigh and intertwined their fingers. “So? Are we engaged now?” he asked tentatively. “I think so,” Scully answered. “Wow.” “Yeah, wow.”  
On the landing at the top of the stairs, there was another person thinking the same: Wow! They are doing this for me! Jackson had been on his way down to get a glass of water when he had heard his name. He was touched by how anxious they were about him and how much they wanted to make this work. And suddenly they had been talking about marriage and Mulder had even suggested reinstating their parenthood by reversing the adoption. Jackson wasn’t sure what he thought about it, if it would feel like he betrayed the Van De Kamps if he became a Mulder. But no, wait a minute, if at all, he would become a Scully. Jackson Scully…it sounded unfamiliar but okay. Another idea sneaked itself into his mind on its own accord. What if…? No! That wasn’t really an option, was it? Maybe, it was. Maybe it was exactly the right thing to mark this new phase of his life. What if he took his old name? His birth name? If Mulder was willing to let go of his name to mark their family bond, he could do the same, William Scully didn’t sound so bad. William Jackson Scully. He let the name roll off his tongue in a whisper. Fox, Dana and William Scully. The Scullys. It would be the three of them against the rest of the world. It was a soothing thought that made Jackson smile. He abandoned his plan to get some water and retreated to his room. He didn’t want to disturb them downstairs. If they were to kiss again, he didn’t want to be ogling. Jackson had just left his observation post and was closing the door to the guest room behind him as Mulder was cupping Scully’s face and leaning in to kiss her. The boy had escaped his parents’ caresses for now but was doomed to witness them over and over in the time to come.
57 notes · View notes
Text
Queequeg's Resurrection
For: Astrid // Berenbos
QUEEQUEG
Oh my glob. Oh my glob. Oh my glob. I think that's what my human, Mommy, says. There was a big thing like another doggie but with no hair and lots of teethies. I think it wanted to eat me! I got away but he ripped out some of my feathers. My feathers are little perfect fluffy hairs on the back of my legs. That's what they are called - look it up. I swears. 
My poor feathers. BUT - I runned away and now I'm hiding. It's very wet here and the grass is higher than me. This isn't like where Mommy and me live so’s I hope I find her. She has red hair like me and always smells nice and gives me treaties. She is nice and soft to lay on when she watches the glowy box. 
I don't hear the toothy dog anymore, so I am going to see if I can move from here. I poke my nose out and sniff the air. I don't smell its weird stinky smell so I think I might be OK to walk around. I want to see if I can sniff out Mommy. I start out with one my nose to ground but I keep checking with my eyes because that doggie was so quiet. I move real slow and then I catch it - a whiff of Mommy!! Oh my glob!!
I move faster but I'm still looking a lot. Mommy's fren Muldo thinks I'm dumb. I heard him call me 'dumb dog' but I am not dumb. I am a smart doggie and I will show him. I will find Mommy. 
Mommy... Mommy... Mommy... 
If I keep saying it in my head maybe I will find her quicker. OH! I hear her. MOMMY!!
I burst out from the grasses and there she is wrapped in a binky. She is all wet - no wonder it took me some time. She is standing next to Muldo - HE is the dumb one. I arf and arf and she spins to look at me. 
"Queequeg!!" Mommy yells bending down. I run so fast I almost fall. It's my Mommy! She picks me up and I gib her all the kissies. She holds me close and she starts to cry. No cry, Mommy - I am here. Be happy!
"Holy shit - maybe you're not such a dumb dog after all." Muldo says and I want to growl at him but I am just so happy to be safe with Mommy that I don't. She gibs me more cuddles and then says "I can't believe it! You're ok." I gib her more kissies. She buries her head in my fur and gives me one last huggie. 
That was a close one! I won't be leaving Mommy's side again!!
SCULLY
I get overwhelmed when I see that little tuft of red hair coming my way. I can't believe it - my little guy is OK. I don't think I realized just how much I love him until now. Tears are welling up in my eyes and I don't even care. I hear Mulder saying something about my "dumb dog" not being so dumb but it fades in the background as I give him more hugs. I think before he entered my life, I didn't realize how much love I had to give - now I have someone to give it to and I need this little ball of floof in my life. 
"You're ok - my little floof." I murmur as I hug him to my chest and begin walking back towards the motel. Mulder trails along behind me muttering more things I don't hear in my still-shocked state.  
I unlock the door to my room and, only then, do I release him to the floor. He proceeds to hop around excitedly at my feet. My smile beams and I bend over to scratch behind his ears. Mulder has followed me into my room and sits down in the chair near the small table. He has stopped talking, probably realizing that I wasn't listening anyway. 
"Want some food, little man? I bet you're starving!" I say as I move to open a bag of kibble. I was still in too much shock to throw anything of his away yesterday. I put down his bowl and smile as he happily stuffs himself on the dry food. 
I sit down on the chair opposite to Mulder and watch Quee eat. 
"Sorry, Scully - I guess I didn't realize how much you loved him." My brows furrow as I look at him. Am I that much of a robot in his eyes? That I couldn't even love my dog? I think he knows how I took it within a second. I watch idly as Quee hops up on the bed across from us. 
"He's my dog. Of course I love him." I say flatly. 
"Hey, Scully, I didn't mean anything by it... I just..." he trails off, looking embarrassed. 
"It's fine." 
"Clearly it's not - I didn't mean you're incapable of love or anything..." Oh, Mulder, shut the fuck up before you get yourself in more trouble. I roll my eyes to the ceiling then close them. "Of course you are capable of love... like with your mom and stuff...." Has his mind left the building? I give him a look that conveys this.
"I just... it makes me think of all the things you must want for your life but don't have because of this job." 
"Mulder, I have Quee *because* of this job, remember?" 
"Yeah... but he's just one step closer to a normal life. You're just missing the husband and 2.5 kids." 
"Mulder, where is this even coming from?" 
"I don't know - our conversation out there on that rock. Am I really the stubborn captain dragging you around on a fruitless quest? I don't want you to miss out on things that could make you happy."
"Mulder. First of all, I wouldn't be here if it didn't make me happy and leave me with a sense of fulfillment. Second, you are not dragging me anywhere. I wouldn't be going with you if I didn't want to be there. I'm not Ishmael or the rest of the doomed crew. I'm my own person and make my own career and life choices." I said, somewhat offended about the way he's making ME into the hapless puppy dog of this situation.
"I didn't mean to imply that you don't have agency here... just that... I want you to be happy," He said, it's his turn to be the puppy dog with the big sad eyes.
"I am happy. I know this job can be hard and challenging but it's one of the reasons I love it so much..." I am trying to convey my truth to him in my eyes. "I was never the kind of little girl who dreamed of her wedding day or had her children's names picked out. I wanted adventure and to make a difference and I'm living that life so I'm happy. I'm happy with... you."
He gives me a shy smile. "Are you with me?"
Shit... this has taken a turn. "I... could be... if that was something we both wanted."
"Is it something you want?" It is just me or has his voice gotten deeper? Also it's gotten about 10 degrees hotter in here. I open my mouth but nothing comes. He saves, and slays, me with his next comment. "I want it."
"You do?" I squeak out. Jesus, is that even my voice? 
"I'm not going to lie and say I haven't been thinking about you and I... for a long time. I never knew what I wanted out of life as a kid. I never knew where life would take me. I certainly didn't expect you." He says with a fond smile quirking his lips. "But maybe that's the best part of life - those things that come out of nowhere and surprise you. All of a sudden, you have everything you didn't know you wanted right in front of you."
"Is that what I am to you?" I can't even believe I got those words out - I'm so shocked. This has been the most bizarre few days. I need to hear him say it - say those words - what he wants,
"Yes - you came out of nowhere and turned my life upside down. I didn't know that I would ever, or could ever, feel this way about someone. So... yes... you're all I want."
"You're all I want, too." I whisper but he must hear it because suddenly his face is right in front of mine. He moved lightning fast from his seat to kneeling in front of mine. His hands are light on my knees as he looks me straight in the eye, asking for my permission. I give a small nod and then we're kissing. I can't believe it. How did this even happen? We're kissing and his hands are in my hair and my arms are linked around his neck.
QUEEQUEG
What is dis?! He looks like he's gibbing her kissies. Only I am allowed to kiss mommy!! I have to put a stop to dis!
I jump off the bed and run at them...
MULDER
I can't believe it. I'm finally kissing Scully and it's perfect... exactly what I thought it would be. I knew we would be so good together...
JESUS!!
QUEEQUEG
I pounce!!
MULDER
Her dog is attacking us! Well... not attacking but he jumped into her lap and is now barking incessantly.
"I knew your dog hated me," I say dejectedly until I look up at her face. There is so much love and joy in those baby blues. We grin at each other and then we're laughing hysterically. This whole thing is ridiculous but I can't believe I finally got to kiss her. I'm actually giddy with it and I don't think I have ever felt this way, at any point, in my life.
“Scully, I don’t think is going to work…” I start and her face drops. “If your dog is going to jump on us every time I kiss you because I plan on doing it a lot.”
Her face lights up. “Oh two men battling for my affections!” She puts on a fake southern drawl that makes me chuckle. “I mean, Queequag does share my bed at night…”
“We’ll see for how much longer…” I lean in and give her a soft, slow kiss until the damn dog jumps up between us again. “Think you can make room for a fox, as well as a hound?”
She groans and rolls her eyes. “That was bad, even for you. But yes, I have plenty of room for both of my boys.” She gently pushes the pup off her lap and places her hands on my cheeks, her nails lightly scratching the 5 o’clock shadow there. She leans in and I meet her halfway for a kiss that somehow feels more intimate than the others before it. “Mulder, you know I love you, right?”
“I hoped, Scully, I hoped you loved me as much as I love you,” I say, touching my forehead to hers. She captures my lips again and I do my best to push the furball back. “So… when we get back… think maybe your mom can watch the hellspawn for a weekend? I really want you all to myself.” 
“Mmm… that is definitely possible.” She makes me happier and happier by the minute. 
THAT WEEKEND…
QUEEQUEG
Mommy is acting weird. Ever since we got back from the swampy place she is jittery… as jittery as me. She is walking around moving our stuff and playing with her hair. It’s really weird.
There is a knock at the door! I love visitors!! 
Mommy lets them in and OH MY GLOB! It’s grandma!! I run toward her and leap into her arms. “Hello, my little fluffy one!” she says and I gib her all my kissies. “You’re coming to stay with me for the day! How about that?”
Sounds great, gram - you gib me lots more treaties than mommy. You say it’s our secret so’s I neber tell her. 
“Dana, don’t you look nice… expecting another visitor after me?” She winks her eye at mommy.
“Mooooom…”
“Just asking, dear!” she says and throw her hand that’s not holding me up. “Just… maybe you could give me some details when you come to get furry man tomorrow.”
“We’ll see…” she said, grabbing my baggie with all my stuffs and handing it to gram. “Thanks again for watching him, mom. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She kisses gram on the cheek and ruffles my head fur. Then gram and I are off to the place with tons of treats. We pass Muldo  in the hall and after he says ‘hey’ to gram, he ruffles my head fur too. He smells like the woods, not the swamp. I guess he’s ok. I guess I can let mommy keep him.
Tumblr media
END.
@xfilesfanficexchange here it is!! I hope it lives up to the expectations of the prompt writer (prompter? Is that even a word?)
23 notes · View notes
doppelnatur · 3 years
Text
Melville back at it again with his passion for nice little instructional pieces😂😂 this time: how to cook a meal with foods you don't even know using utensils u do not have.
3 notes · View notes
lepus-arcticus · 7 years
Text
Pillowtalk
This is technically for the @xfficchallenges dialogue prompt - but it’s under the required word count, and I can’t submit things from a sideblog. Whomp whomp. So it shall live here instead!  — “Queequeg.” “Dammit, Mulder, how did you know?” “You’re easy. All you think about is cutting up dead people and rescuing yappy dogs. And pasta, maybe. And my boyish good looks.” “I miss the poor little guy.” “I know, sweetheart. C’mere.” “Don’t let me catch you calling me that anywhere but this bed.” “Oh, come on, I think Agent Sweetheart’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you?” “Ow - you’re on my hair - it’s your turn.” “Hmm…. alright. Hit me.” “Is it a person?” “Not exactly.” “What does that even mean?” “Yes or no questions, only, Agent Sweetheart.” “Hm… not exactly a person. A creature of some sorts?” “No. Getting colder. It’s definitely human in nature.” “Yes or no answers only, Mulder.” “It’s kind of complicated to narrow down, now that I think of it. It doesn’t exactly have a physical form.” “You’re supposed to choose something simple, like an actor or food or something.” “Mmmm. Let’s start again. Okay, I’m ready.” “Hey, no fair, what were you thinking of?” “Alien Hand Syndrome.” “Alien Hand Syndrome? Seriously? How was I supposed to guess that in 20 questions?” “You’re a smart cookie, you’da gotten it.” “I don’t even know what Alien Hand Syndrome is.” “It’s a condition in which a person has little to no control over their limbs - extremities act seemingly of their own accord, grasping, feeling, touching things without the brain giving them permission to…” “Are you hiding a slideshow somewhere? Is it rigged to play on your ceiling?” “Mmmm, I’m hiding something, alright. Oo-” “Mmm?” “Agent Sweetheart, you’re far bolder than that lovely little name of yours would suggest.” “Must be Alien Hand Syndrome.”
135 notes · View notes
woozapooza · 3 years
Text
Moby Dick 1998 reactions
Literally just the notes I took watching the 1998 Moby Dick miniseries. I enjoyed it a lot but I like the 2011 one better.
Elijah is pretty goofy here
Note to self--find video of Henry Thomas talking in his normal voice. Is he doing a weird accent for this role, or is that just how he talks? He sounds almost Irish. [BTW after I finished watching, I looked up a video of him talking in his normal voice and he does not sound weirdly Irish-tinged in real life, so I have no idea why he was talking like that in this adaptation.]
They shoehorn some narration from the book into Ishmael’s dialogue
Not sure if the problem is with the actor or the dialogue, but Henry Thomas’s performance is...rather stilted
Here, Ishmael has no nautical experience. 
“I fear I must make a confession. I used to be a schoolteacher.” HE SAYS THAT LIKE IT’S SO EMBARRASSING 
When Peleg says that Queequeg “doesn’t look like much of a Christian,” Ishmael fires back with “HE’S KILLED MORE WHALES THAN YOU CAN COUNT” and seriously looks like he’s about to punch Peleg until Queequeg puts his hand on his shoulder.
Queequeg is less worldly here than in the book. Ishmael takes him to church to teach him about the concepts of God and souls.
STARBUCK IS PLAYED BY BUFFALO BILL FROM THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS?!
Ishmael is so serious here
Stubb is perfect
Interesting that Ishmael is a brand-new sailor, but he already knows the song (shanty?) the other sailors are singing
The guy playing Flask could stand to rein it in a bit
Pip is younger than I imagined him. But then, I don’t think his age is specified in the book.
Ishmael’s hands are burned by the rope. Later, below decks, Queequeg patches them up :) 
One guy literally refers to Ishmael and Queequeg as “lovebirds” and another guy makes kissing noises at them
Those guys try (pathetically) to bully Queequeg. Ishmael says to Queequeg, sounding kind of ashamed, “You pagans should teach us Christians the art of kindness.” Queequeg reassures him that they (Q & I) are friends *emotional emoji*
This is so weird! There’s a scene where basically the whole crew converges on Ishmael and tells him scary whale facts while he looks terrified!
I feel like Ahab needs to have a beard. I forget if he has one in the book but he SHOULD.
Ted Levine has the absolute BEST judgmental face.
They keep the scene of Ahab throwing his pipe overboard!
Pip sounds like he’s from the Caribbean? Interesting. I looked up the actor and he’s from Wisconsin. 
Fedallah is east Asian instead of Parsi for some reason 
“There’s no savagery of beast that’s not infinitely outdone by that of man.” I love that they retain Ishmael’s bursts of human-phobia!
The little swing Captain Boomer uses to get to the Pequod looks like so much fun
After the encounter with the Samuel Enderby, Starbuck openly stands up to Ahab, but Ahab shuts him down. Then there’s a shot of Pip angrily throwing down his tambourine. I like that. It adds some depth to Pip.
Wait, Bulkington’s name is in the credits??? He’s here??? I looked up the guy who plays him and I don’t recognize him but apparently the character is here somewhere. 
The whale looks so silly
Pip is in Starbuck’s boat here, and the emphasis is on Starbuck, not Stubb, choosing not to bother helping him. That’s an odd choice. I like that Ishmael is trying to get Starbuck to go back for Pip. When the hunt is over, Starbuck proposes going back for him and Stubb argues against it. Now that I think about it, I kind of see what they were going for. Starbuck’s first priority is to get the job done and his second priority is morality. 
A SHARK ALMOST GETS PIP?! WHAT’S GOING ON
When the rescue boat approaches the Pequod, there’s a shot of Ishmael holding Pip in his arms <3
When Pip is lifted aboard, Stubb celebrates. Sir, kindly shut up. You were in favor of leaving him to die. Okay, to be fair, I guess the novel is coloring my view of the miniseries’ take on the character. Here, Stubb wasn’t the one who left him behind, that was Starbuck. Stubb just thought he was probably dead, which I guess is reasonable.
Out of nowhere (unless I’ve forgotten something), Bulkington is an actual character in Part 2.
I love the choice to literally film from Pip’s point of view to depict his terror and disorientation. 
I don’t love this portrayal of Queequeg, to be honest. He lacks subtlety.
Pip starts dressing up as Ahab. I’m trying very hard not to find this funny. I KNOW it’s serious. It just reminds me of when I was a kid and I would entertain my mom by putting on her hat and shoes.
Unlike in the book, here Pip doesn’t become...I don’t know the word for it. Disidentified with himself? He doesn’t talk about “Pip” in the third person or say that Pip is dead or missing.
I like that, unlike the 1956 and 2011 versions, this one is really making an effort to depict the bond that forms between Pip and Ahab. However, the fact that it only forms once Ahab sees Pip dressed up as him cheapens it a bit, I feel. 
Ooh, they have Queequeg stand up to Ahab! That’s a fun choice. 
Ishmael is very angry that everyone on the ship is going mad. 
Why do some of the actors pronounce Queequeg’s name “kee-quay”???
THEY HAVE QUEEQUEG DECLARE THAT THERE IS NO GOD ON THE PEQUOD AND THROW YOJO IN THE FIRE??? 
Starbuck catches Bulkington trying to jump ship and go home to his wife. Instead of trying to stop him, he gives him a letter to deliver to Mary. Bulkington suggests that Starbuck just come along with him, but Starbuck can’t bring himself to do that. That’s really interesting. I like that.
Starbuck comes into Ahab’s cabin, where Ahab and Pip are both asleep, and stands menacingly over Ahab. Maybe thinking murderous thoughts? I’m not sure, but DEFINITELY thinking malicious thoughts. But then he sees Ahab put his hand on top of Pip’s, and he softens. I love that.
Ahab takes the wheel in a storm. Major Flint vibes!
Patrick Stewart seems to be having a great time
I THINK QUEEQUEG JUST DECLARED AHAB HIS GOD? WTF 
Ishmael and Starbuck commiserate about how everyone else on this crew has lost their minds. In the book, Ishmael is clear about the fact that he was under Ahab’s spell just like the rest of the crew (minus Starbuck), but I guess they wanted to give him stuff to do in this adaptation aside from just being one of the crowd.
Whoa there is something weird going on between Starbuck and Ishmael. I’m starting to ship it, frankly. 
I don’t like what they did with the “let me gaze into a human eye” scene. In the book, it’s really moving. Here, Starbuck literally has a knife in his hand. Ahab puts his hand on Starbuck’s face and Starbuck looks extremely uncomfortable. However, as the interaction continues, you see Starbuck start to feel less murderous and try to reason with Ahab, so I guess that’s good. 
Oh snap! Starbuck holds the knife to Ahab’s chest...and then starts crying. And then voluntarily lowers the knife. This is wild. Ahab says “what have I done” and you get the sense that he’s on the verge of being persuaded...when the guy on the masthead spots the whale. 
I like that this version includes Fedallah at all but Kee Chan is simply not given a whole lot to work with. 
OH GOD QUEEQUEG GETS BADLY INJURED—I THINK HE SOMEHOW GETS HARPOONED?—AND HIS LAST WORD IS “ISHMAEL” AND THEN HE SINKS UNDER AND ISHMAEL SCREAMS AND DIVES AFTER HIM AND TRIES TO PULL HIM UP BUT QUEEQUEG SHAKES HIM OFF I’M GONNA DIE
AND THEN WHEN ISHMAEL RESURFACES HE SCREAMS AGAIN I AM DEVASTATED 
The cook and the carpenter are both trying to get the doubloon. Guys...priorities.
Starbuck is just hanging out inside the boat this whole time and then the whale rams into the boat and Starbuck and Pip both get overwhelmed by the water :(
As the carpenter dies, there’s a shot of the doubloon in his hand. I like that. 
As with the 2011 version, the “epilogue” feels a little rushed. I guess maybe it just doesn’t translate all that well to the screen. Oh well.
13 notes · View notes