#post colonization

[slippinmickeys]

I’ve been listening to North of Zero on @audiofanficpod and honestly, this is pantsing at (my) finest. I still don’t know how I did it. If you haven’t read it, even if you don’t like post-col fic, give this one a try?

[xfiles-vibes]

A heads up for any of my X Files moots who were reading my post-colonization fic “A Quiet War”. Due to the response I’ve gotten, I’ve decided to move the vignettes to just be additional chapters in the overall fic, which can now be found here.

That being said, if you’ve left comments on kudos on either the Skinner or the Lone Gunmen vignettes, please know that those kudos and comments will be lost going forward as I merge the vignettes with the ongoing fic. So, please don’t be alarmed if your comments and kudos were visible one day and suddenly aren’t! I’ve taken screenshots of all of them so I can still keep track.

[audiofanficpod]

AFP S3E6: Darkest Timeline Book Club

Today on the Darkest Timeline the book club chats about Blinded by White Light by dashakay and The After by PiecesOfScully. Annie, Dina, and Lin dig into life post-colonization.

[spooky-nerd]

Beyond the Setting Sun: a post-colonization drabble that got stuck in my head and may become something more later on idk

There is one who sees the future, or so she is told. An old, blind woman who wraps her eyes like lady justice. Not to convey her impartiality, but to cover up the horrible scars. She lives in a trailer park about 20 miles outside of Tulsa as the crow flies, and it takes Scully a month to make it there.

By that time her hopes have dwindled down to nothing, and only sheer stubbornness remains as her driving force. Hope had fled into the lonesome night a long time ago.

She sleeps, but she dreams strange things. Phantom memories from her time in captivity. Or maybe it’s just the infection, making her hallucinate. She touches a hand to the back of her neck to the wound that burns feverishly. A torn t-shirt and duct tape had worked as a bandage in a pinch, but the wound had been deep, and from the moment she had done it, she had felt the threat of an infection marching ever nearer, humming a sickeningly familiar death chant.

The woman’s name is Addie, but to the people in the once-flourishing town of Tulsa, now down to less than 1000, she goes by other names. Crazy Addie, Old Addie, Crazy Old Addie, all mock-honorifics said in jeering tones. As if their reality hadn’t just been torn apart at the seams less than a year ago. There are more things in heaven and earth, she wants to say. But the words stick in the back of her throat because she realizes it is the exact thing he would have said.

The passage of time favors none but the dead. She lies awake at night, that wound growing more and more painful, and she wonders if she may see him sooner than she thinks.

The sun burns with a merciless, joyless heat, and she walks on stiff legs to her destination. Her knock is heavy on the door of Addie’s tin can of a house. She wonders how a woman this old could have survived this long in such an unprotected dwelling. But, Scully thinks as Blind Addie (yet another name) answers the door, perhaps there was nothing left to take from this poor woman.

Addie’s hands shake, but her grip on her cane is steady and her steps are sure. Scully calls her ma’am, out of respect and habit.

“You have taken a hard road to come here,” Addie says, her bandaged eyes turned eerily right at Scully, her head cocked at an uncanny angle. “There is a heavy weight atop your shoulders. Grief. You seek something you have lost, so you have come to the one who sees.”

“Yes,” she breathes. Her hands shake too, as she clenched them tight against what may come next.

Addie tilts her head, interested. “You have sight of a different kind. You saw the truth with your very eyes. You are one of the marked ones, set aside for the destruction of our species. And yet, here you are. Still human.”

Still human. It is for this reason that she still counts herself lucky, in spite of everything.

“Please,” she finds herself saying. “Please, I need to know.”

Addie smiles. “He is not far, child. Follow the setting sun, and you will find him.”

She leaves almost immediately after, forging a westward path through the wastelands of America.

* * *

“Scully, if the sky crumbled and fell on top of our heads tomorrow, you would find a way to rationalize it,” Mulder had told her once, with equal parts awe and irritation in his voice. If only she had known at the time how prophetic those words would turn out to be.

They had been on a case when it had happened. She still remembers the shrill, earth-shaking scream of the crafts as they had broken through the dark and split the peaceful night apart. She had woken with a dread like no other. The back of her neck thrummed. They were here.

She still remembers stumbling to his adjoining room, shaking him awake. Oddly enough, he had been resting peacefully that night. He had roused gradually, and then all at once when he had seen the look on her face. One hand on his shoulder and one clasped to the back of her neck, fingernails digging matching imprints in their skin.

“Mulder, they’re here.”

Grabbing what they could, they had fled in the night. Their rental car would not start, so they had gone on foot. They made it two miles before the pain grew so intense that it dropped her to her knees.

She had felt, rather than seen, Mulder’s fear. The trembling of his hands as he took her face in them. The way her name broke apart on his lips, in the back of his throat. She felt herself go limp entirely, and the world tilted to the side as he lifted her into his arms. It fell away entirely as she listened to the warm thump of his heart. A beautiful, fragile thing.

When she came to, he was still walking, and her voice was all-but gone. She had been yelling, he had told her as he rested her under the shade of a spruce and held a water bottle to her chapped lips.

Yelling what, she wanted to know.

He could not meet her eyes when he told her the words.

“You said ‘I won’t do it.’”

It wasn’t until two weeks later that they understood what those words meant.

They went by many names, but most called them Hybrids. Soulless, once-human creatures who did the bidding of the Colonists. They were easier to kill than the bounty hunters, but they were stronger and more resilient than a mere human. Bullets were safer than hand-to-hand combat. Scully, whose aim had been likened by Mulder to that of Annie Oakley, preferred a head shot through the eye. A guaranteed kill, and less of a waste of bullets than multiple shots to the chest.

It took another run-in for them to realize what was happening. Four of them, and they took down three before the last one pulled out a strange device and pressed a button.

One moment of confusion, and then her world erupted in white-hot pain. Distantly, she felt her knees hit the ground, heard Mulder screaming her name, but it was all muffled by the ringing in her ears.

Pain. And then something behind the pain, welling up horribly with singular intent : kill him.

No. No no no.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

Her hands shook, the pull was so strong. Mulder grappled with the hybrid and she fought her own battle against the foreign thing taking up refuge under her skin, in her own mind.

Then, his hands were on her. Blood on them, maybe his, maybe the monster he had just slain. That voice grew louder, and she pushed him back for fear of what she might do. In his eyes were confusion and hurt. His mouth moved in the shape of her name, brows questioning, but all she could hear was the ringing, shrill and agonizing, forming the shape of a thought in her head.

Kill him. Now.

“Mulder stay away from me I can’t control it I can’t stop it it won’t stop it wants-“ The rest of her words were lost to the ringing. She felt like she was being pulled underwater, the world slipping away.

He put two and two together somehow. Because as suddenly as it began, the sensation stopped. Color and light and sound returned, and he was standing above her, holding his gun. The device sat a few feet away, a hole blown clean through it.

He must have known then, as she did, how hopeless their situation was.

* * *

Every step is a jolt of pain through her body. The pack she carries has turned to lead, and her mouth feels gritty and dry like the sand her boots kick up around her. To a passerby with ill intentions, she is easy prey, but they do not know about the gun tucked into the waistband of her dirty, faded jeans, nor the knife in her boot, nor the sheer ferocity of determination that keeps her feet moving, her heart beating even as her head pounds and the fire at the back of her neck rages.

She sleeps in abandoned cars and gas stations and among the ruins of structures that were once pieces of a world that now belongs to another lifetime. She dreams of him, and of all things, and when she wakes in the morning, she dusts herself off and continues west towards the setting sun, remembering the words of that strange, blind, trailer park prophet.

* * *

“We stay away from the common roads, we avoid populated areas, we travel at night, we sleep in shifts. We can do this,” he had assured her, full of that unflinching conviction that never ceased to amaze and exhaust her.

“To what end, Mulder?”

“To the ends of the earth, Scully. It’s you and me. Whatever happens, it’s you and me.”

* * *

There is an end to this world somewhere, she thinks wearily. Her boot drags the ground and she stumbles for the hundredth time that day. Maybe you’ll be there when I find it.

* * *

He was right about one thing. Whatever happened, it would be the two of them against the world.

It was dark, and they did not see, nor did they hear the approaching troops. Mindless hybrids, patrolling, rounding up people like her who had been taken and chipped, marked as chosen by the enemy.

She had felt it. By then it was too late. Too many. And the ringing in her ears, this time too much. The world faded away. She woke up in a prison filled with future hybrids, terrified men and women, all former abductees kept in check by the chips in their necks. She spent two weeks there in a fog until one night she had the presence of mind to take a broken piece of glass and dig the chip out. She slipped out through a hole in the fence during a changing of the guard.

She has been chasing him ever since, haunted by that night, the last she saw of him. She would not forget the look on his face, not in a thousand millennia. Fear and hopelessness. Surely he was dead, she had thought. No one could survive that. Not even him.

But then, he always did love to prove her wrong. Perhaps hope lay beyond the horizon, past the setting sun.

* * *

Time and space narrow to a singular point, and the darkness becomes indistinguishable from the day. Everything clouds, and her body goes numb. She must fall, because she is looking up now, and the sky is all she sees. This is how it ends, she thinks, somewhat relieved.

* * *

She wakes to the crackling, smoky smell of a campfire. Everything hurts, so she must be alive. Somewhere to her immediate right, someone is humming a familiar tune. Even before she opens her eyes she knows who it is. She stirs and the tune stops pre-chorus. She opens her eyes and he is there.

“Scully, it’s me,” he says. His hand is feather-light on her cheek.

She smiles. “I found you.”

He laughs, a small sob of relief.

“Yeah. You did.”

[haniawritesthings]

I would like to take this chance to say fuck you to my social studies textbook. Can’t wait to absolutely drag it when I’m next assigned an essay

[jessicakurr]

Here’s a small teaser of the end and beginning of Chapters 19/20 of End of Time. Not done yet, but I figured I would get my readers pumped up for it. ;)

Alex breaks eye contact for a moment and looks down at his new, fully functioning arm again. He flexes his fingers, twists his wrist around, and bends his arm back and forth at the elbow a few times. I then watch him lift his right hand up to rub at his left. He looks at both of his hands and compares the two. I then decide to hesitantly reach out to touch it myself and am slightly caught off guard when his new hand grabs at mine, as he intertwines our fingers together.

“Can you feel that?” I ask with astonishment.

Alex smiles, nods, and then looks back up at me. He’s beaming from ear to ear, and squeezing my hand, and I’m squeezing and smiling back. Then he lets go, and slowly raises his left hand up to touch at my face. I close my eyes for a moment, relishing in the feel of it, as his fingers explore every curve. And when I open my eyes, I can’t help but lightly gasp at the sight before me. Alex’s face is all scrunched up, and he is intensely staring at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“Alex…”

“Dana…God…I…” His voice cracks and trails off. He swallows, blinks, and opens his mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out.

I can feel my lip quivering, as my eyes begin to moisten as well, and we just keep staring at each other, breathing extremely heavily. This moment between us is the rawest and most emotionally charged experience that I have ever had with Alex. It’s profoundly quixotic, and extremely sentimental. And I’ve never seen Alex this emotionally animated before. It makes me fall even more in love with him if that is at all possible. I’m seeing another new side of Alex Krycek, and I warmly welcome it with open arms.

I then hear what sounds like a strangled sob emerge from deep within his chest, but barely escapes his lips. He blinks again, and the tears begin to fall.

“Alex. Oh, Alex…” I whimper and sniffle.

Then my hands are in his hair, on his face, and then I’m pressing my forehead against his, shushing and cooing at him. His shoulders are now visibly shaking, and he’s clutching at me with both of his hands, and his sobs are beginning to become more audible now.

There it is. That’s what I’ve been waiting to see from him for as long as I can remember. This is what he’s needed, for so long. A good, cleansing cry. And I can’t help but cry with him, as we rock back and forth while holding each other.

After a long moment, he pulls back, and I look at his beautiful blotchy face with awe. His face is wet, and his nose and eyes are red and puffy. It’s the most stunning Alex Krycek I have ever seen honestly. I can’t help but pull him to me and kiss him like my life depends on it. He groans into my mouth, and slowly runs his left hand up the inside of my thigh, while his right one tangles in my hair.

“Lock the door.” He huskily grumbles against my open mouth, and I pull back just enough to look at him with questioning eyes.

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s implying, and a sudden nervousness overcomes me for some reason. “Here? Now?” I ask incredulously.

It isn’t exactly the most ideal place and time, but at the same time, I don’t really care either. We need this. I understand and accept that. And I’m also feeling intensely spontaneous and audacious right now, and I’m thinking that I shouldn’t really let these rare sensations pass me by. Alex nods at me, and I waste no time getting up to quickly lock the door and return to his side. Plus, I’m pretty sure that everyone knows better than to interrupt us and are probably eating dinner in the cafeteria right now anyways. Maybe it ‘is’ an ideal time and place after all.

Alex reaches out and pulls me by my waist, and next thing I know, I am straddling him, and his hands are groping at my ass. “I want to touch you. I can use both of my hands now, and goddammit Dana, I want to show you what I can do with two of them, at the same time.” Alex sensually whispers into my neck.

Oh, dear God. I have a feeling that I’m about to have some sensory overload soon. In fact, I know I am. Because one handed Alex was phenomenal. So, I’m a little scared of what two handed Alex is like. Knowing him in the beginning, years ago, before he lost his arm, is a lot different than knowing him now. I’ve never experienced that part of the old Alex, along with the other parts of the new Alex, together. It makes me pleasantly shudder just thinking about it.

(Currently finishing the new chapters this very moment. Will be posted on fanfiction.net and AO3 within a few days hopefully.)

You can find the whole novel length story on both of the sites below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379832/chapters/22923714

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12412160/1/End-of-Time

End of Time

By: Jessica Kurr  

Summary: *post-colonization* Scully gets separated from Mulder and her surviving group, and is forced to survive on her own, in a now nearly empty world. But when she is put in danger by a gang with bad intentions, a familiar face unexpectedly comes to her rescue. Will she join her old enemy Krycek, or continue to search for her friends alone?

Rated: Fiction  M - English - Drama/Romance -  D. Scully, A. Krycek - Chapters: 18   - Words: 119,580 - Reviews: 38 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 14 - Updated: Apr 8 - Published: Mar 19, 2017 - Comments:53 Kudos:74 Bookmarks:6 Hits:1402

@nightshade1013 ;) ;)

[contrivedcoincidences6]

Against the World

So it’s late and I randomly had this idea. Just a short, smutty, angsty, post colonization story. Not betaed! 

As his lips pass fleetingly over her lower stomach she just stared at the brown canvas of the tent that is now their home. She tried to count the days since the end of the world but when they hit 280 she didn’t care anymore. Outside the tent the sounds of the camp getting ready for the day got louder by the minute. She knew that they would need to get up and be ready in an hour but Mulder’s tongue was doing amazing things against her clit and she couldn’t find the strength to care. Scully glanced down to see the top of his head between her legs. His hair was messy and standing up in all different directions and it made her smile. The few strands of grey had become a normal sight but still one that made her feel strange to see on Mulder. The stubble of his unshaven face scratched her thigh as his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves that he was focused on.

She let out a small gasp and her fingers dig into his hair. It’s only a few seconds after Mulder begins to move his fingers inside her, that Scully comes hard. Her legs clamped down around his head and her whole body shook with pleasure. For that moment the world wasn’t dying and it was just she and Mulder, like always. But, as it is with these things, she comes down from the high and back to reality. A reality that is filled with dirt, death, and fear. The only way they have survived is with moments like these where they can forget that they don’t know the fate of their son, or their friends, or of her family. When they are alone it can feel like old times when it was just the two of them against the world. They can pretend that they don’t have any more worries than getting the X files audited. But it never lasts forever. Mulder moves over her kissing her body on his way, moving faster than he’d like but knowing they are running short on time.

When his face appears above her Scully feels a lump form in her throat and she runs her fingers over the lines of his face. He pushes into her and her eyes close on reflex. Scully’s hands run from his face and down his neck where she then runs her fingers through his familiar light chest hair. She remembered how exciting it was when they first started having sex. Getting to know Mulder’s body after staring at it for years had been a thrill. Now it was just as wonderful in such a different way. Now she knew every inch of him well and it was like coming home. The strong planes of his back, the swell of strength in his biceps, the tight muscles of his ass, and the silky texture of his hair were like a songs that she’d memorized long ago but still got lost in every time they played. Even the sounds of their coupling were a familiar comfort to her. Mulder’s huffing breath, laced with occasional curses and moans, and the soft smacking of their bodies combined in a way that could take Scully back fifteen years ago to when things were simpler. She wondered for a moment that maybe if she opened and closed her eyes she’s be seeing a young Fox Mulder over her with less lines on his face and no grey hair to mark the painful years that have flown by. Maybe she’d be young again too and they would finish and get ready to go to the Hoover building, unaware of what a mess things would become.

Scully could tell that she wasn’t going to come again but wanted to enjoy the pleasant feeling of him moving inside her for a little longer. She didn’t say anything until she could tell that he was holding back.

“Come for me Mulder.” She said to him softly and he did. He collapsed on her gently and held her close. Neither of them wanted to move again. The day ahead of them would just be more moving. They would have to pack up the tent and all of their belongings and join the group of near strangers to move on to wherever they were going next. So they took a little more time to just hold each other and live in their own little space for a minute longer. It had always been the two of them against the world. Some things never change.

[ilovelibya]

King Idris