#part xv

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XV): Making an Effort

In the last part, Mulder was able to see (for the first time since his abduction) that Scully hasn't, won't, and will never give up on anyone she deems "worth the effort"-- and that, he concluded, included him.

This being the case, it seems he's made it his mission to prove that she, too, is worth the effort.

Mulder Tries

After Monica Reyes assists in the arrest of the alleged culprit of Luke Doggett’s murder, Mulder finds Doggett by Scully’s bedside; and silently orders the other man into the hallway. Though angry at this exchange-- and angrier at the world and its injustice-- Doggett relents and follows him out, jaw clenched tightly shut as he moves as far away from his partner's partner as possible.

Unbeknownst to Mulder, the latter was in the grips of his own PTSD flashback-- the day his son’s burnt body was discovered. The episode connects clear and blatant dots between his journey to belief and Scully's (including a cursed scene transition, here); but we are also left to draw a few obvious conclusions: Doggett lost his son and was assigned to the files while Mulder gained a son (a baby of unspecified sex, at this point) and was blocked from the files. Both men suffer from PTSD, to varying degrees; and both men are thrown together in the latter end of Season 8 to protect Scully and her baby-- a redemption of their own past losses. (And while these parallels, ideas, and themes are intriguing, it would be nice if they were properly fleshed out in their execution.)

Doggett's anger evaporates in the hallway; and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, slowly nodding as Mulder immovably explains, "She just fell back to sleep."

Head down, he says, "I just wanted to check to see how she's doin'." But that's not all; and Doggett exhales before further stating, "'Course I'm here with this other thing-- we, uh, we caught this killer Jeb Dukes. He's in the ICU. He may not make it."

Mulder runs his tongue over his lips and swallows-- a nervous tick-- while the other agent finishes. Despite everything he's been through, those profiling skills are still spookily intact: "And now you're wondering if there really was a connection?"

Doggett doesn't answer, not wanting to admit his doubts; but he doesn't bother to deny it, either. There's a defensive, curious stance in his stooping shoulders and sideways-upright glance, as if he is inviting Mulder's opinion while shifting away from his scrutiny. In short, Doggett is posturing: pretending to be rationally stable while adrift and looking for guidance.

Never one to leave others floundering or in pain, Mulder decides to act on Scully's insight, and offers an olive branch: he opens up.

Looking down at first, he begins, "When I, uh, when I first came to work at the FBI, I worked at Violent Crimes."

Agent Doggett knows where this is going-- former cop that he is-- and turns his head to the side as Mulder gently drones on.

"I saw the worst of humanity. I saw monsters."

At this, Doggett looks up, trying to guess if 'monsters' is metaphorical or literal.

"And I wondered how they became that way. How these men became so evil. I know, there were--" Breaking off, Mulder shakes his head, shifting through past testimony and reports, "--Psychological explanations: victims of their environment, victims of their parents. But those scientific explanations were never truly satisfying.

"And I began to think," he confesses, moving one hand to wave it around briefly before recrossing his arms, "of evil like, like a disease. You know, it goes from man-to-man, or age-to-age-- most of us walk around thinking we're incapable of any acts of evil. And we are. Y'know, we can stifle that momentary urge to kill, or to hurt-- we have some kind of immunity to it."

"But I think it's possible that there's..."

Again, he trails off, lips pressed tight as he weighs his words. "An occurrence in somebody's life-- a tragedy or a loss-- that leaves them vulnerable." He further gentles his voice when Doggett's face pinches: "And all of a sudden-- at that point in their lives, when they're weakened-- they're open to evil. And they can become evil."

Agent Doggett's skepticism peaks through as he fills in the blanks. "If that were true, then what you're saying is, is... this man we wheeled in here tonight is effectively evil. Same evil that killed my son."

Mulder maintains Doggett's level gaze, swallowing-- not denying the other's conclusion.

"You really believe that, Agent Mulder?"

"Nah," Mulder cracks, a genuine smile shyly peeking through-- the first around Doggett. "I'm not really a good test for questions like that. I'll believe almost anything. Y'know?"

Doggett snorts, acknowledging the joke and chastising himself for grasping at this explanation.

"You may never know," Mulder reveals. "It may be like Agent Reyes says--" an acknowledgment of Monica's instincts, as well as a channeling of Doggett's attention to the other agent, "--it may be random and meaningless: who it affects, who it goes to."

"What if it isn't?"

"Well then you'd be seeing something that I don't, Agent Doggett": and what a conclusion-- Mulder is steering Doggett to trust his own intuition. It neatly attempts to shred Doggett's reliance on Scully or himself, and to plant a seed of faith in his own instincts (or Reyes's instincts of his instincts.)

Doggett walks away, unable to accept that possibility; and Mulder remains fixed by Scully's door, knowing where he belongs and decisively staying there-- a journey the other agent is still struggling through.

She Is Worth the Effort 

“Mulder, you never fail to surprise me.”

The scene opens on Scully, perched on a couch with a pizza before her, and Mulder sneaking behind her to hide his surprise present again. Hands on her belly, she turns her head to try to find him, slowly, contentedly continuing, “I just wish I felt like eating it.”

Nonchalantly, he swings around the couch with plates, napkins, and silverware in hand-- silverware, for pizza?-- flippantly assuring, with a comedic lilt in his voice, “That’s cool-- we can just wait for the cheese to congeal and eat it later.”

After sitting and noticing her reluctant smile, Mulder deduces, “You miss your regular pizza man, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Scully pouts as her partner slumps and defeatedly lets the silverware drop to the table. 

Mulder is trying to become everything Scully needs: friend to her associate, father of her baby, and delivery boy of her favorite pizza. His efforts, however, are stymied by the new ropes he’s still learning-- forgetting, in this instance, to ask if she would like a pizza fresh from her release; or even if she can eat one. When he realizes his carefully crafted plan falls through, he slumps: Scully’s pizza boy wouldn’t fail because he would know when she needed one. And while that isn’t an entirely logical train of thought, it’s one that’s easily suggestible. 

He takes this failure to heart, caving in and avoiding her eyes as the “Aha!” moment turns into a heavy “I should have known this” thud. 

Scully, however, has an ace up her sleeve: revealing her expert rouse with a subtle, “That’s okay, he’s coming later.” She’s so pleased with herself that she fails to hold back a smile, outright giggling when Mulder catches her humor and returns it with a mock-stunned expression. 

Both visibly glow and twinkle while connecting over this simple couples’ joke-- the second they’ve shared since his return, and the first that is levied back-and-forth with equal, humored fervor (post here.)

As Scully’s giggle turns to a chuckle then peters out, Mulder reaches behind her for the stowaway surprise. (An aside: Scully looks down at her belly before her partner shifts, as if her laughter brought on an unexpected bump of movement.)

He keeps his face focused on her, watching her curious eyes track his hand (knowing his partner loves presents, posts here and here); and stays still, mouth wide in anticipation, as she gasps with delight. 

“Bet you forgot about that, didn’t you?”

Shaking her head as emphatically as she can, Scully insists, “No, I didn’t, actually. I thought about it a lot, while I was lying in my hospital bed.” She spares him an assuring, more somber glance while methodically tearing the package open, as if to say you and your efforts were not forgotten, despite my compounding worry and troubles. 

Mulder, meanwhile, loses a touch of his joy, eyebrow twitching, eyes tightening, throat swallowing at the acknowledgment of her recent hospitalization.

But he tries to school his features and zone back into the moment. Her words-- “Wondering what on earth you’d given me”-- help; but it still takes effort to shake off, with a bounce, that darker mood. 

“And?” he prods, voice intentionally buoyant. 

The present is revealed; and Scully is immediately touched, mouth opening in shock. Face pinching, she whispers then croaks, “Oh, Mulder,” swinging the doll around between them to study it intently. 

Pleased, he asks, “Is it what you imagined?”

Eyes squinting, she states, “Not even close.” Sensing there are layers of meaning behind this gift-- and that her partner is continuing a reemergence back to his former ways-- Scully looks up and breaks into a smile.

Mulder leans forward, drinking up this freer atmosphere between them. “Oh, my, that’s the wrong doll, actually.” His face slips near the end of his tease; and Scully calls him on it-- to the delight of them both-- by pretending to swipe at her partner with the toy.

He dodges, and they both fall into a fit of gleeful chuckles and giggles. 

It’s Scully who switches up the mood first, pivoting suddenly into, “But then that’s the other gift you gave me, Mulder.” She looks up from the doll, staring at his softened, tentative expression: there is a hesitant bracing there--not of having to own up to fatherhood or claim this baby, but of wondering what she’s going to say next; and what she expects him to say in response-- before he relaxes with a tender smile.

And she, as always, throws him a curve ball: “Courage. To believe.” Scully looks down, shy, but decides not to dodge Mulder’s natural assumption entirely: “And I hope that’s a gift I can pass on.” Again, she looks up, lips pursed in a smile, eyes locked as Scully draws their attention to the baby: content, and confident.

And that’s an interesting statement: not only does this imply Scully is having a baby (because obviously) but it also implies she is directly tying something intrinsically Mulder to this child-- meaning, this child will be, and was going to be, connected to him no matter what. We know both know the baby is his, and that Mulder wasn’t jealous or resentful of his child (posts here and here); but what I find more fascinating is that there are multiple, subtle clues that Scully would have raised her baby as Mulder’s child (Skinner’s “he’s not the last” in Deadalive; Scully’s blue mourning-but-moving-on sweater, post here; and her pointed remark in this scene.) This is the first time she’s confessed her intentions to her partner; and that points to how personal this decision is for her-- Scully confessions don’t come lightly; and don’t come willingly to anyone, at all, unless that person’s a Mulder.

Mulder takes this revelation in stride, staring at her bump in contemplative silence before re-locking eyes and nodding. 

A split-second one-two-three happened there: 

His eyes slid lower, taking in her words as they came to rest on their child. 

His eyes snapped up, a wild, possessive, purposefully stilled gleam in them. 

His eyes lowered again as he nodded and twitched an eyebrow: I understand and That’s not all I gave you wrapped up in one. 

Scully, being Scully, catches this one-two-three. She begins petting the doll’s hair, an attempt to work through the happy, vulnerable emotions that are nearly breaking from her control. The camera fades out as she masters them; and that is the end of Mulder and Scully in Empedocles.

NOBODY GETS THERE ALONE

I'd be remiss if we didn't compare this sweet and affectionate moment to the last time Mulder gave Scully a gift. There are quite a few parallels, actually.

In Tempus Fugit, Mulder takes Scully to their frequent hangout, and loudly sings along to and claps afterwards with the staff's "Happy Birthday" cheer. (In fact, he continues clapping long after the staff leave and the patrons drop off.) Then, he made sure she had something fun to nibble on (either because the local provided it or because he sneaked in a Snoball) while opening her niche gift. Like Empedocles, however, their moment is interrupted by tragedy and more tragedy (Max's and Pendrell's death; Scully's abruption and Luke's killer's case.)

Alongside these parallels, the mechanism for each gift remains the same: to do things right. In Season 4, it was spurred on by Mulder's fear of Scully's cancer and realization of the depth of his feelings (post here); in Season 8, it is instigated by Mulder's return and stabilization after his death. In both cases, Mulder wants to make up for lost time: birthdays (in dog years, he parries) and fatherly moments missed.

And Scully figures him out-- already had him, probably, when he showed up at her door with something from his mother's, post here-- both times, smiling and puzzling over her partner's presents, divining their oblique and askance meanings. "Teamwork" in Tempus Fugit and "Family" in Empedocles.

Mulder's gestures themselves paint a broader, more evolved picture of his feelings for and commitments to Scully. During the cancer arc, Mulder ran and ran and ran headlong into work or self-recrimination or anyplace where he didn't have to acknowledge Scully's death (they both did, post here.) During the pregnancy arc, Mulder returns, despite his PTSD and doubts and fears, after an abduction (This Is Not Happening), after his "death" (Deadalive), after the failed DOD mission (Three Words), after Doggett and Reyes's case (Empedocles), after the black oil rig (Vienen), after a begrudging trip to help Doggett (Alone), after trying and failing to do the right thing (Essence-Existence.)

An important note: the writers carefully picked and chose what present Mulder picked and chose each time. A NASA commemoration medallion in Tempus Fugit pointed to his hope alongside Scully and the fathomless, though largely unspoken, value Mulder placed on their work together. Their partnership, Mulder said, is a gift; and one he needed (needs) to see things through. It was a sentiment Scully didn't hear voiced until Fight the Future, but it's one he was acutely aware of since their separation and her abduction in Season 2. A cloth doll from his mother's pointed to the day Scully was by his side when he lost sight of the answers and would have lost his closure if not for her truth. It was a different time in their partnership, one that didn't require them to step around the danger between them. In both instances, his presents were a symbol of their relationship beating back the darkest hours: her cancer and their hope, his mother's death and his closure. And there is one last meaning to this gift-- the most glaring one: an extension of the Mulder family trinkets to the next generation of Mulders.

CONCLUSION

Empedocles is wrapped!

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[mashollings]

☁️ ಠ_ಠ ☁️

[miyku]

Final Fantasy XV | ▶ dev. Square Enixt

[lemurlord]

Why Butcher Should Already Be Free

Inspired by a post by @heyitschartic.

Okay, so we know that you can't just pull Cherish out of her forever coffin. It acts as a life support system, so she is probably fused to this thing. At best, you'll lose a few important chunks of the bitch.

But, what she now has, is about fourteen new powersets from being da Butcher XV. And while we know that teleportation won't work, either because it doesn't go through water or because she can't see where she is going...

There's another, sexier ability among the Butchers. High-speed, close range, matter rearrangement. Meaning, Cherish could probably alter the shape of her coffin, crawling or perhaps even walking on the sea floor, maybe even freeing herself somewhat from her confinement.

Why didn't this happen? Who knows. Maybe it did. Maybe somewhere in the Antlantic Ocean, there's a lonely metal monstrosity. Walking. Slowly.

[insertsomthinawesome]

Happy (late) FFXV 8th anniversary!! I felt WONDROUSLY enabled by This post to post a bunch of Old FFXV art I've never posted before (at least not that I remember) All of this stuff is several years old now, I made a lot of my FFXV art in the range between 2019-2021, but I'm genuinely still very proud of all of these. Goes to show how feelings change, cause I remember a time when I was embarrassed/ashamed of many of them, but now I just see how much effort I put into all of them :) I actually have so much that this is going to be post (1/2) HA! Happy Anniversary everybody, remember to walk tall. <3

[No Romance Included] Here's a link to post Number 2 if anybody wants to see that!

[ipromptography]

leather-clad lads

[shitpostingkats]

The fact that resting at the campsite in chapter 10 does not play the little victory jingle..... I am mortally wounded.

[xvandmore]

Ravus won 📈

[dayasan]

📷 East Interchange overlooking the Citadel, Crown City, Insomnia, Lucis

[luliesuzuki]

Princess like 😳

[vivelareine]

I have rambled about this on Twitter but reading Victor Hugo's poem "Capet, éveille-toi!" (usually printed in English as "King Louis XVIII: An Ode") which was written and published in 1822, and then reading The Bishop in the Presence of an Unknown Light chapter ["I will weep with you over the children of kings, provided that you will weep with me over the children of the people"] from Les Miserables, written decades later, is fascinating in a lot of respects.

But especially in terms of analyzing Hugo's personal political and moralistic development. The chapter reads in some ways as a rebuke against himself, with the Bishop standing in for his decades-older self.

[randomfoggytiger]

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XV): "Other Fathers", Deleted Scenes, and "Things to Prove"

Never Again is precipitated by Dana Scully’s sidekick complex, a trickle down from her childhood daddy issues. While I’ve discussed her feeling of neglect with regards to Mulder (posts here and here), this analysis will zero in on Scully’s strivings for perfection, feelings of neglect, and subsequent discouragement and rebellion blooming from a failure to secure someone’s pride and attention. 

FATHER COMPLEXES

The first time Scully displayed vulnerability in Beyond the Sea was at her father's funeral, pleading with her mother for reassurance: “Was he at all proud of me?” By the end of the episode, she takes Maggie’s “He was your father” to heart, turning down a chance to give her father a final goodbye via the shady conduit Boggs. 

After her abduction and return, Scully meets her father once again in the land between Life and Death. Standing at his daughter’s side, Captain Scully pours out his heart in a touching monologue she takes back with her into life.  

More importantly, her father was the only person who knew she wouldn’t die--”We’ll be together again, Starbuck. Not now. Soon”-- and Mulder the only person who believed in her strength. Scully came back for Mulder, yes; but she still had to process her family’s hopelessness and her father’s visitation. 

An interesting and important note: Scully was aware when her family gave up in One Breath-- “When they found me-- after the doctors and even my family had given up, I experienced something that I never told you about. Even now it’s hard to find the words. But there’s one thing I’m certain: as certain as I am of this life, we have nothing to fear when it’s over.” 

Melissa, her voice (post here), was right: Scully was right there; and her spirit did speak back and forth with her sister in limbo. Knowing this, it makes sense why Missy pushed Dana so hard to accept every vital part of herself and her experiences in Season 3-- trying to prevent Scully's self-destruction through purposed ignorance.

The only problem is, Scully wasn't-- and isn’t-- sure how to understand her experience: on the one hand, it gives her a sense of peace when facing death (telling Mulder they have nothing to fear in Dod Kalm); but on the other, embracing that experience would require her to embrace other aspects of herself she is running from-- buried memories of her abduction, the paranormal happenings drawing naturally to her (post here), and her own fear of belief. 

In A Christmas Carol, Scully can’t sleep because of her father’s disappointment in her career path; in Pilot, she glibly tells the Assistant Directors her parents considered this change “an act of rebellion” (post here); and in Beyond the Sea, she is thrilled to be on closer terms with Captain Scully (though they struggle to connect with unaddressed issues between them, post here.) Her sense of self-worth is attached to her usefulness, which is measured by the praise or adoration she strives to earn from the people she looks up to. 

Avoiding instead of internalizing leads Scully from person to person-- man to man specifically-- looking for the acceptance she will only find in herself (all things.) 

She is drawn to men that open her mind to new possibilities-- Daniel Waterston, her teacher; Jack Willis, her instructor; Fox Mulder, the paranormal and little green men expert-- but are also devoted to their work and expect her to come along for the ride. Scully, enthralled, follows their lead; but after time passes and she remains second priority, Scully rebels and leaves. 

Scully has stayed with Mulder longer than any other romantic partner, miring herself in danger and intrigue and murder for over three years. And she has seemed-- despite the oddity of their situation-- content to be challenged and thrilled over pursuing the domesticity expected from peers her age. Yet Scully takes a sharp left turn in Never Again, contemplating her circular life path and seeking reassurance from Mulder for her decisions-- equally reaching for and rebelling against the second-place position she assumes he places her in. 

I’ve already written at length how Mulder completely misinterpreted his partner’s signals (thinking she was resenting him and the work rather than wanting assurance of her place in his life) and that his resulting actions accidentally confirmed Scully’s worst assumptions and fears (compelling her into the arms of Ed Jerse); but cutting that important angle out of this episode, let’s focus on the residuals of her father’s legacy that sends her into an ouroboros of insanity. 

MEASURING UP TO SUCCESS

Captain Scully lived in pursuit of accomplishment. “I’ve went at a proper pace-- many rewards-- until the moment that… I knew, I… understood that I would never see you again. My little girl. Then my life felt as if it had been the length of one breath, one heartbeat.” Although decorated properly in his medals of honor, her father's afterlife appears empty and alone, allotting ample time to count his successes while waiting for his loved ones to join.  

We see the echoes of that achievement mindset when Scully reexamines her life: the endless cycle of what she’s lost or the little she’s accomplished. The lesson her father tried to impart to her from the world of the Dead is blocked by her unwillingness to fully believe; and the gnawing of bereft dissatisfaction continues to build in the wake of personal tragedies and her partner’s inability to do or express more in their relationship. 

THE BEGINNINGS OF ONCE AGAIN

Scully stands behind her partner, tuning out his interrogation of a witness as dissatisfaction starts to pulse through her. Having already dismissed the case, she wanders off, trying to pinpoint or escape her swelling emotions, coming face-to-face with a wall of venerated names. These people are the embodiment of legacy: what they did mattered, who they were is remembered. Their service is recognized; their sacrifice is honored. 

Their names may be what draws her, but not what keeps her. Unlike her father, who wanted his named etched in higher rank or bigger history (Personality Type post here), Scully’s attention and emotions are captured by the personal, heartfelt memorial at the bottom of the glistening pillar: “BROTHER, TWENTY YEARS LATER… I STILL MISS YOU. WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID WAS RIGHT.” She slides down silently as her thoughts begin to solidify. 

Touching one of the rose petals, she ruminates on the loss of a life so insignificant to the rest of the world but so important to the ones he loved most-- that not only did he matter, but he mattered because what he did was right. 

Scully may be a woman who places herself in second position, but she is also a woman that demands respect and devotion-- proof that she is valued, loved, and cherished (Personality Type post here.) Furthermore, Scully lives her life by her morals and ethics, by what is right-- breaking up with Daniel Waterston before crossing an unbreakable line, holding herself to a standard of decency and honor, and demanding Mulder hear the truth even if it's hard to accept.  

As of late, there isn’t enough cherishing to balance out her self-doubts; and now that the scales are out of whack, her life seems unfairly disjointed. Because Scully is fixated on identifying and solving her problem, she misdiagnoses its cause, wondering if her presence would even be missed, nullifying the importance of her decisions and choices. And who does Scully look to first to set everything back into order? “Other fathers”-- or in this case, the Ahab to her Starbuck. (And this Ahab completely misses the memo.) 

These doubts plague her hours later: holding Mulder’s plate and sitting behind Mulder’s desk in Mulder’s chair, Scully sees her workspace with new eyes, noting how lacking her presence (seemingly) is, despite the devotion she’s poured into the X-Files. The rose petal’s significance has left its mark. 

Mulder poking Scully about abandoning him scratches at the open wound of “WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID WAS RIGHT”, flipping her concealed disillusionment into more outward hostility. 

Still, she tempers her annoyance, slipping it under Mulder’s radar… until: “Hm. Have you confirmed the identity of these individuals?” 

“That’s your assignment while I’m gone.” 

Her back immediately arches at assignment: sharp intake of breath, stiffened posture, and lowered eyes-- more signs of her anger. When she refuses, both of them are left frustrated. 

“So, you’re refusing an assignment based on the adventures of ‘Moose and Squirrel’?” Mulder teases, battening down his own anger with humor. 

“Refusing an assignment? It makes it sound like you’re my superior,” Scully replies, stepping around his olive branch and digging her heels in. 

When Mulder snaps, misreading her mood as disinterest in his work, she sighs, cryptically replying, “And it’s become mine.” 

Stung, he softly asks, “You don’t want it to be?”

Scully does her best to explain the chaotic whirlpool of emotions sucking her down-- “This isn’t about you. Or maybe it is indirectly, I don’t know. I feel like I’ve lost sight of myself, Mulder. It’s hard to see, let alone find, in the darkness of covert locations. I mean, I wish I could say we’re going in circles, but we’re not. We’re going in an endless line: two steps forward, and three steps back. While my own life is… standing still”--     

--but her response isn’t direct enough for Mulder’s suddenly resurrected abandonment issues. 

“Well, maybe it’s good we get away from each other for a while,” he surmises, assuming she’s sick of being around him; which causes her to close up, assuming he’s sick of listening to her problems.  Then he flees before she can rethink things further; and she sits and feels her admission has been ignored and minimized. 

Mulder is her Ahab; but he doesn’t expect subservience in their equal partnership. Now four years in, he and Scully both expect her to waltz off to the next case in his absence; and she is nettled by their assumptions, and he baffled by her response. Scully cannot see past the tall and commanding figure of her father to notice Mulder-- shrinking from her raised hackles, blaming himself for consuming too much of her time, calling her later because he wants her a part of his life, even in absentia-- reading his withdrawal as disapproval and rebuke.  

Scully has a long wait for Fight the Future’s declaration. In the meantime, she is crying out for validation and reciprocation; and stumbles across a form of it in Ed Jerse. And after a brief investigation into the Russians and Mulder’s commanding fumble over the phone, she decides to pursue that path as soon as possible. 

THE ALLURE OF DISOBEDIENCE

Ed Jerse is her mother’s cigarettes personified: sinful and satisfying, different and dangerous. The tattoo you deserve. 

“I’ve always gone around in this, uh… this circle," she tells him. "It usually starts when an authoritative or controlling figure comes into my life. And part of me likes it-- needs it, wants the approval-- but then at a certain point, along the way I just… y’know.

“My father was a Navy captain. I worshiped… I worship.. the sea that he sailed on. And,” she admits, looking down or up or away to keep her emotions in check, “when I was thirteen or so, I went through this… thing where I would sneak out of my parents' house and smoke my mother’s cigarettes.” 

Her monologue in the bar exactly parallels Luthor Lee Boggs’s extracted confession in Beyond the Sea: “There was... that one time when I was fourteen and my parents had gone to bed and I snuck downstairs all alone. Got one of my mom's cigarettes and went out onto the porch in the dark. I was so scared: my heart was beating-- I mean, they would have killed me if they knew. But I was so excited. Not because of the cigarette-- I mean it was gross, but... because I wasn't supposed to.” 

Even now, her eyes light up in recollection, a sly smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“And I did it because I knew that if he found out, he would kill me. And then, ” Scully wraps up, halting as her voice drops in disgust, “There are other… fathers.” 

“Sounds a little like… your time has come around again,” Ed posits, smooth and attentive with his unspoken promise of a good time. “I want things more like a straight line,” he adds; and so compelled is Scully that she forgets a straight, endless line is worse to her than an endless cycle.

To commemorate her breakthrough, Scully inks the chains of her life onto her back… in the same place where Mulder frequently steers her around. The tattoo she deserves, after all: trying to turn her self-punishment into liberation; glorying in the pain-- in the wrongness of it all-- in an effort to produce something new and exciting and beautiful. Starbuck, thou art aptly named. 

All for naught. 

“All this because I,” Mulder questions after it’s all over, “because I didn’t get you a desk?” 

Scully is once again caressing the rose petal; but looks up, surprised, that he bothers to ask her about anything other than their next case. Seeing that he’s serious, that he’s willing to listen, she says, “Not everything is about you, Mulder. This is my life.” 

Scully has figured out, rather late, that “other fathers” were not at play here: that her search for approval was an effort to conceal her aching loneliness because Mulder-- no matter how good his intentions-- isn’t ready to be a part of “my life.” 

And Mulder intuits this, too; and falls silent. 

ADDRESSING MEMENTO MORI’S DELETED SCENE

The last mention of Captain Scully in Season 4 pops up in a deleted scene from Memento Mori. 

There are many reasons why I dislike (loathe, really) this scene-- the depiction of her brother, mainly-- but those are secondary to the thoughts I want to explore here. 

Scully wakes from her round of chemo to a man in uniform by her bed. A flash of her coma visitation shines through; and she calls out, “Dad?” softly, with a smile. 

It’s Bill Scully, Jr. that advances out of the light instead, grabbing her hand in anxious confusion. “Dana?”

“Bill?” Scully, aware of her mistake, quickly withdraws her hand and sits up, momentarily humiliated. Laughing at herself, she starts, “I thought you were, uh…”

“You were expecting someone else,” Bill smooths.

In hindsight, this is a rather morbid remark on his behalf: clutching her hand like she’s dying and half-expecting her to be expecting apparitions of the dead. (It turns out this scene is framed around him deciding she's already got a foot in the grave.)

She thanks him for coming, Bill leans in to give her an awkward hug, and the two try to regain their equilibrium in the silence that follows. 

“You look good,” he lies; and Scully makes a face, not believing it but thanking him, regardless. “Charles is sorry he couldn’t make it,” he adds, confirming that he and Charlie would have been in contact had this scene remained canon. “Think he’ll call you tonight, if you’re feeling up to it.” 

“Sad cause for a family reunion.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, fake chuckling. 

The two fall silent before Bill expounds on his new orders-- alluding to the fact she and he might not regularly communicate about much other than work. (Another aspect that might but doesn’t quite fit with their characterization in Gethsemane; but I digress.) 

“Oh, did Mom tell you? Got new orders-- NAS Miramar, Dad’s old stomping grounds.” 

So, Bill Scully also keeps in contact with Maggie (no surprise), making he and his mother the communication lightning rods of the family-- and likely Melissa, too, since she visited her family and followed up with regular phone calls (The Blessing Way, post here, and A Christmas Carol.) 

“Yeah, I was out there not long ago. Lot of old memories,” Scully reminisces, an allusion to her Piper Maru investigation (post here.) Cool call back, actually.  

“Yeah…. Lots of ghosts now. Dad… Melissa. Mom’s gettin’ worried there’s no one left to carry on the Scully name. Guess the pressure’s on, huh?”

I, personally, believe Bill would have more tactful in this situation-- and he is, even when confronting his sister in Gethsemane and A Christmas Carol-- and am glad this scene is no longer canon.

“I didn’t choose this, Bill.”

“No-- but you chose to join the FBI. Mom and Dad sending you to med school-- you were going to be the one to save lives.” 

Scully gasps, turning away to collect her words. “When Dad died, I asked Mom. She said he’d forgiven my choice.”

We have confirmation here that, while her parents were both disapproving of the FBI, it was her father that was angered by it. This fact is also backed up by her and Melissa’s conversation in A Christmas Carol (again, post here.) 

I’m going to gloss over the rest of the scene because Bill is unreasonably cruel, ridiculous, and out-of-character, blaming his sister for Missy’s death when he doesn’t appear to do so in Gethsemane, Redux II, A Christmas Carol, or even Emily.  

The takeaway is: 

Bill feels angry at Scully’s choices but doesn’t voice them until she calls attention to his subtle pokes. 

Bill is moving to his dad’s old stomping grounds, meaning he’s beginning to measure himself against his father’s legacy. Meaning, Scully may have been able to break away from her parents’ expectations, but he has not. 

Not only that, but Maggie piles her expectations for grandchildren onto Bill and Tara’s shoulders (despite their struggles with infertility) while somehow forgetting her other grandchild via Charlie Scully (previous post here.) 

All in all, this scene badly damages the extended Scully family quite a bit. But the fact that Bill is choosing to follow his father’s journey step-by-step leaves some interesting implications (to be explored in a future post.)  

REMEMBER DEATH, PART II

Scully’s father also left an impact during her fight with cancer. 

Fearing she wouldn't be strong enough for her Mulder or her mother (again, post here), Scully’s courage begins to crumble in the face of futility and exhaustion: “Mulder, it’s difficult to describe to you the fear of facing an enemy which I can neither conquer nor escape.” 

After Mulder runs to her side, afraid she'd been hurt or recaptured, he finds and reads her journal, later confessing: "When I came to find you and you weren't in your room, I got scared something had happened. And I read what you wrote."

She exhales, embarrassed. "Oh. I didn't want you to read that. I decided to throw it out. 

"I decided tonight, that, um…,” she continues, pebbling her chin to keep the tears back, “that I’m not gonna let this thing beat me.” Squaring her shoulders resolutely, she adds, “I came into this hospital able to work; and that’s how I’m leaving.” At his encouraging nod, Scully pauses, smiling back.    

Mulder finally gives her the reassurance she’s been searching for: “Scully, something was done to you, something that you’re just beginning to remember-- you can’t quite figure it out, but it can be explained and it will be explained. And no matter what you think as a scientist or a doctor, there is a way. And you will find it, to save yourself.” The truth is, he’s always believed in Scully, even when she doesn’t believe in herself. 

Scully spells out her new focus-- “Mulder, I can’t kid myself. People live with cancer. They carry on. And so will I. You know, I’ve got things to finish-- to prove, to myself, to my family. But for my own reasons.” 

It’s an incredible leap forward for the captain’s daughter; and Mulder knows this, giving her a blooming smile and wrapping her up in his first initiated hug. 

Scully beams in his praise and soaks up his comfort-- the right time for both of them, in spite of everything. 

Mulder’s “The truth will save you Scully. I think it’ll save both of us” draws out a smile while his tender forehead kiss brings her to the brink of tears. 

It’s enough for both, for now; and she pulls away, walking back bravely into battle. 

CONCLUSION

Captain Scully’s long shadow stretches from beyond the grave, shading the milestones of his children’s choices and accomplishments. While he tried posthumously to give consolation and encouragement-- like Bill Mulder did for his son, post here-- the effects of his example have left grooves that circle Scully (and her brother) around and around, faster and faster, until she breaks free of those patterns and starts her own journey. 

Only then-- not unlike the late Melissa Scully-- can Scully (and Bill) truly be free. 

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[flowers-of-tenebrae]

me reading ep noctis: 🥺🥺😯🫤😭😭🤔😑🥺🥲😭

noctis is so sweet and cute in dotf 🥺🤗

[clockwork-ashes]

Chapters: 15/17 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Eris Vanserra & Lucien Vanserra, Lady of the Autumn Court & Eris Vanserra, Beron Vanserra & Eris Vanserra, Eris Vanserra/Original Character(s) Characters: Eris Vanserra, Lucien Vanserra, Lady of the Autumn Court (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Beron Vanserra, Vanserra Brothers (A Court of Thorns and Roses) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, The Autumn Court (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Originally Posted on Tumblr, this was posted over three years ago there and i finally have an ao3, my thoughts on the characters have changed quite a bit but i figured why not put this here too, anyway i love the autumn court and i wish we knew more about the vanserra family, wrote this right after reading acosf, and have still not stopped thinking about these books Summary:

Eris Vanserra is heir to the High Lord of the Autumn Court, but he often wishes differently.

A series of events in Eris’ POV starting when Lucien is born.

[triangle-strategy-text-bot]

Hughette: I know you have suffered many hardships, but pray...do not let yourself succumb to despair. Me, our comrades, your people... All of us are eagerly awaiting the era of peace our new king will bring.

[mechahero]

//Design brain going off means silly what if powerup again.