post colonization

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.

Colonize This! Young Women Of Color On Today’s Feminism — Daisy Hernandez

“As young women of color, we have both a different and similar relationship to feminism as the women in our mothers’ generation…The difference is that now we talk about these issues in women’s studies classes, in classrooms that are multicultural but xenophobic and in a society that pretends to be racially integrated but remains racially profiled.”

Redefining Realness — Janet Mock

“When I think of identity, I think of our bodies and souls and the influences of family, culture, and community - the ingredients that make us. James Baldwin describes identity as ‘the garment with which one covers the nakedness of the self.’ The garment should be worn “loose,” he says, so we can always feel our nakedness. ‘This trust in one’s nakedness is all that gives one the power to change one’s robes.’ I’m still journeying toward that place where I’m comfortable in this nakedness, standing firmly in my interlocking identities.”

Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches — Audre Lorde

“Guilt is not a response to anger; it is a response to one’s own actions or lack of action. If it leads to change then it can be useful, since it is then no longer guilt but the beginning of knowledge. Yet all too often, guilt is just another name for impotence, for defensiveness destructive of communication; it becomes a device to protect ignorance and the continuation of things the way they are, the ultimate protection for changelessness.”

Feminism Is For Everybody — bell hooks

“Simply put, feminism is a movement to end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression…Practically, it is a definition which implies that all sexist thinking and action is the problem, whether those who perpetuate it are female or male, child or adult.”

This Bridge Called My Back: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment — Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldúa

“We are challenging white feminists to be accountable for their racism because at the base we still want to believe that they really want freedom for all of us.”

Literally anything by Kimberlé Crenshaw, who coined the term “intersectionality” in 1989. From her article “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Color”:

 “Contemporary feminist and antiracist discourses have failed to consider intersectional identities such as women of color…I consider how the experiences of women of color are frequently the product of intersecting patterns of racism and sexism, and how these experiences tend not to be represented within the discourses of either feminism or antiracism.”

Want more recs? Another Round host and glorious human Tracy Clayton compiled a list of 13 more books on feminism and intersectionality by women of color

My words will be brushed off by white people when talking about issues like cultural appropriation because they have a say in what they can TAKE from my culture but I do not have a say in what I do and DO NOT want to SHARE.
—  Palenativeblr

Tbh Native Americans deserve everything why dont we give it to them? Remember back when they were fighting for control of Alcatraz, a fuckup of a useless island that nobody wanted, and they couldn’t even get that? Remember when they were like “literally just leave this water alone your oil is gonna kill us all” and the US government sent in militarized police to forcibly evict them from their own goddamn land????

Discworld crossover with PoTC where Vetinari performs the wedding ceremony for Vimes and Sybil in the middle of the huge maelstrom battle.

She not daoine any favors
  • ETIENNE: Did a megalomaniacal overlord just try to kidnap your squire for breeding stock?
  • OCTOBER: Well it can't be me every week.
Discworld: Mother of Dragons

500 Followers! Thank you all so much, it’s been a wild ride since I started posting fanfic earlier in the year and my activity feed went totally nuts. My first ever fic on here was a Discworld one, so it seems only fitting I celebrate with you now by returning there. Thank you for the support, your comments and being wonderful people. Have some Sam Vimes being Vimes <3

                                Mother of Dragons (Ao3)

Commander Sir Samuel Vimes was on his day off. Which was to say he was currently doing work from home, and waiting on the inevitable call from the Yard which always seemed to come when life handed him nothing more complicated to handle than another coffee with the morning post.

It was a glorious spring day in Ankh-Morpork, the kind of day where the sun is deceptively bright, the skylarks are singing, and the dragons were in heat. Technically dragons were always in heat, it was— as it were—fundamental to their physiological structure. But there was only ever that special time once of year, where a lady dragon and a boy dragon (though one should never judge) might size the other up and decide to risk the maneuvers that went in to the act of what could quite literally be, explosive mating.

Vimes had heard the expression “survival of the fittest”, but as he sat reading at the breakfast table, listening to the mating call of what could only be described as a dented water boiler heating up—punctuated by the occasional hiccupping implosion— he thought it ought to be “survival of the luckiest and/or the stupidly brave.”

It didn’t quite roll off the tongue as well, but it was more accurate at least.

This being dragons of course, it wasn’t as simple as trying to keep the pen doors closed and reminding yourself not to light a match before the air had cleared. No, this was dragons, and that meant that Mother Nature had done everything in her power to make life as complicated for the poor buggers as possible.

The eggs were ready to hatch. Eggs which had been so carefully nested and kept warm for the last eleven months, and so possessively protected you didn’t dare reach into the pens with anything shorter than a ten foot pole with a lump of coal on the end…and now in the frenzy to create more eggs, they were being trampled.

“It’s their instincts you see,” Sybil had told him, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief covered in soot. “They only have enough room in their heads for one at a time, and the need to create more eggs outweighs the other. It’s all about continuing the bloodline.”

Vimes hadn’t said anything, not because he couldn’t think of what to say but because he could think of exactly what to say and it was not something Sybil would ever want to hear. So instead he’d patted her arm and taken the broken mess from her cradled arm and…well, what did you do with a thing like that? Which was how he’d come to learn the secret from Willikins of just how the rose bushes were quite so hardy and flowered longer than any other rose Vimes had ever known.

Poor little buggers, he’d thought, and promptly pricked his finger on a thorn.

Still all hope was not yet lost, so far this morning, very early this morning in fact (there is nothing quite like an amorous dragon outside your bedroom window to wake you up at four in the morning) Sybil had counted no less than five new wyrmlings, all as happy and healthy as a swamp dragon can ever hope to be. Which isn’t saying much, but it was something. He’d peered in around the door, sometime around dawn and found her stooped over the nearest pen, one of the many interchangeable Emmas waiting patiently with what Vimes could only think of as ‘the iron cradle’. Both women, fully armored and armed with what passed for swamp dragon corralling gear, had waved at him with their giant oven mitts.

“Should have another five by lunch!” Sybil had called out cheerfully, and Vimes had smiled, nodded and made a hasty retreat before anyone could try and hand him anything hotter than a cup of coffee.

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breathechlorine  asked:

Hey, I saw your andromeda post about " racist space colonization" and stuff. I really like Mass Effect, but I haven't been completely keeping up with everything, what do you mean?

I got a few more asks about this so I’m just going to try and answer them all here. if you’ve got more questions, feel free to send them my way.

there a couple of reasons I’m upset about the direction that ME:A looks like it’s going. I’ll be upfront and say that a lot it is based on speculation, considering that very little about Andromeda has been officially revealed. whether you decide to believe it is totally up to you.

so the first thing we learned is obvious – ME:A takes place in the Andromeda galaxy, the closest neighbor to the Milky Way. we know that ME:A is going to be stand alone from the trilogy, but where exactly in the timeline it fits is unclear as of yet. but based on information from the E3 2016 trailer we know that our presence in Andromeda is “to seek out a new home for humanity.” whether that’s related to the Reaper threat or not is unknown.

the concept seems pretty inoffensive, at first glance. if we’re trying to survive the Reaper invasion, it make sense to maximize our odds by fleeing the galaxy.

here’s my issue:

the game isn’t being marketed as refugee story. it’s being marketed as an exploration story. between the wild west imagery in the reveal trailer and the “we are explorers” speech in the N7 day teaser, ME:A is building its core themes around exploration and expansion.

which is uncomfortable for a lot of colonized people. throughout human history, exploration and expansion was just the first step to colonization and conquest. 

and ME:A seems to be going in that direction. in the survey leaked on reddit, it describes a colonization system in the game, where players establish and defend colonies across the galaxy. that’s enough to make me wary, but the wording in this leaked survey on neoGAF is what really raised a red flag:

both of the surveys are peppered with language historically used to dehumanize colonized people – “savage,” “hostile,” “deadly.” it’s deliberately taking the fear and anger and pain of colonized people and turning it against us, using it as a way to justify the violence inflicted upon us.

and I cannot believe that Bioware would be so clueless as to use those words without knowing how loaded they are.

my gut feeling tells me that Bioware wrote in colonialism as a “morally grey” side plot in a larger story about the mysterious ancient alien race – the Remnant, as they’re named in the surveys. and given the offensive way that racism was handled in the trilogy, I don’t have high hopes that this will be done sensitively.

obviously there’s more to be revealed. but given Bioware’s track record with racism, what we know about ME:A is putting me (and a lot of other fans) off entirely.

I’m not going to stop people from being excited or being hyped. it’s a new Mass Effect game! you totally should feel excited and hyped!

all I’m asking is that people stop and consider that not all of us are excited, and think about why we’re not excited anymore.

I honestly wonder if white people would get how everybody else felt if some other country colonized the world like they did? Like God fuckin forbid India or Africa or Mexico colonized the world 100s of years ago and forced their culture, beauty standards, religions and prejudice and stereotypical beliefs onto them. White people would have BEEN shuttin shit down. But nah since it’s us and we’re livin in their bullshit ass post colonization countries it’s good and ain’t nothin wrong. Just a thought

Fic: Revenite

Title: Revenite
Author: @campaignofmisinformation
Rating: PG
POV: Third Person
Timeline: Post-Colonization
Summary: At first, she couldn’t believe it. Then, she tried to fight it. Now, she sleeps.
Author’s Notes: @txf-fic-chicks​ posted a challenge to write a birthday-themed fic involving red, cake and London. So, I drank some whiskey and wrote something. Then, I begged @tofutti-rice-dreamsicle​ to beta. Eventually, it turned into this…

Francis E. Warren AFB
Cheyenne, Wyoming
May 19, 2017

A candle flickers in the silent, dark bedroom, stirred by Scully’s exhale. Shadows dance across whitewashed walls as she recaps a red sharpie and twists it in her hands. On the table in front of her, a fresh X dries on a battered 2017 calendar. No one else keeps track of the date anymore, but she finds solace in order and dutifully crosses off each day before bed.

Tomorrow is William’s birthday. She should bake a cake, she thinks, a cake could bring them home.

She’s marked 83 red X’s since they came and took her boys.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. Then, she tried to fight it. Now, she sleeps.

She sleeps because she dreams.

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Post Colonization / AU Tuesday

There has been so many deliciously angsty drabbles and ficlets flying around lately, thanks to all of the amazing prompts and challenges, that we felt it was our duty to provide you all with the complete opposite to help take the edge off. Some glorious AU fluff. 

Penned by the Anjou, the author who brought us the insanely beautiful Aquinnah, today’s story is set post-IWTB and kicks off basically right after the movie, before the credits started rolling.  Enjoy the rec, philes, and make sure to leave a kudos and/or comment on the at Ao3 after you’ve finished!  

Title:  Beating the Darkness Back

Author: Anjou

Rating: R

Length: 76K / word count:  38,000+

Synopsis:   Where do we go from here, now that we are free?

Spoilers:  Through IWTB

Possible Triggers:  None

Post-Colonization/AU Tuesday

You all know the scene.  Mulder scrambles to his feet, having fallen asleep in Scully’s darkened apartment, and as she walks through the front door he searches her seemingly crestfallen face imploringly and assumes the worst…”It didn’t take, did it?”  

But what if Chris Carter and TPTB weren’t complete and total assholes?  What if Scully’s answer was instead: ”It, uh…it did, actually.”

That’s where this brilliant, wonderfully written anti-angst fic diverges from canon, and our favorite agents struggle to make sense of their partnership and their relationship in the wake of successfully creating a life together.  Mulder never goes to Oregon because he wants to be there for his baby momma, Scully never has to give William up for adoption because Mulder never had to go on the run, and all is (eventually) right with the world.

Title:  A Boy and His Fox

Author:  6hoursgirl

Rating:  R / M

Length:  35K / 18,006 word count

Synopsis:  What happens when two FBI agents have a platonic relationship based on trust and mutual respect…and an exchange of genetic material.

Spoilers:  Anything through Per Manum

Possible Triggers:  There is mention in passing of a case involving kidnapping and murder of little boys.

‘That’s a harp he’s playing, Nobby,’ said one of them, after watching Imp for a while.


'No, it’s the honest truth, I’m–’  The fat guard frowned and looked down.

'You’ve just been waiting all your life to say that, ain’t you, Nobby,’ he said.  'I bet you was BORN hoping that one day someone’d say “That’s a harp” so you could say “lyre,” on account of it being a pun or play on words.  Well, har har.’
—  Terry Pratchett, “Soul Music”
Worlds Apart

Did this for the XF writing challenge of hot/cold. This was done in about 40 minutes of just writing anything and is not beta’d. This is post-colonization, which I usually never mess around with. I’d give it a gen rating. I know. I can’t believe I wrote something without smut, either. – Jori 


When the end of everything came from the heavens in burst of impossible heat and sound, Scully knew there was only one place she needed to be. She had to help those who still remained, the ones who survived the first few days of the colonization and now struggled to live in this sweltering world.

It went off as had been planned since the beginning of man’s time on earth. When the temperature reached a certain tipping point where humans couldn’t bring it back into balance, they would take over. They liked it hot. They always had. It wasn’t long before their technology made it blistering. The colonists hadn’t expected the humans to survive but they were wrong. Not only could humans mess up a world, they could also fight to save it.

And Scully fought to save those humans. Many died in the first wave. Then the elderly and weak died soon after. Parents died saving their children. Mulder went to save theirs.

She fought the constant stench of decay as she struggled to not think of where he might be now. Or if William was alive once he got there.

Instead she did her job as a medical doctor and a scientist. She patched up people. She fought to hydrate them and get them to shelter until they could get themselves north. Whatever was left of humanity was now fleeing north. Mulder went weeks ago, setting off on one of last remaining vehicles he could find. They had no way of contacting one another. If one of them died, the other might never know.

Except she would know. She would always know. Time apart didn’t change that. They had struggled through their goodbyes, her fingertips desperately memorizing his face again. This face, this older face of the man she fell in love with, had changed since the last time she had to do this.  His eyes more tired with bags under them. The skin on his jaw hanging a little lower. But still him. Always him.

Another patient came in and she dragged herself out of her reverie and back into the heat.



Mulder wasn’t sure how much more he could take. It wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter but each night grew more bitterly cold as he went on his journey. Scully was right all those years ago… he was always running. This time it was different.

Everything happened but not exactly as he thought it would. Weather control? Who knew? Seriously, why didn’t these bastards just turn up the thermostat eons ago and take it over without a bunch of stupid humans wandering around? Then again, none of it made any sense so why should that.

All he knew is he made a promise to Scully that he would find their son and if he had to, bring him to safety. The problem was, safety wasn’t exactly safe but it’s where Scully felt she needed to be. Once the last refugee was gone, she would go, too.

He pulled the hood of his jacket tighter around his face and tried to sleep again. He was surprised as hell when he made it as far as he did and discovered that they didn’t bother heating up with entire planet. There had to be a reason to keep part of it cold and that’s what worried him. There were enough people in this zones to make into slaves. Or meals. Maybe this was their way of keeping them fresh. If that’s what they wanted, they should have allowed everyone to escape so they could pick them off later.

Instead, he was shivering and wishing and hoping that he could see Scully again soon with some news about their child. First he had to find him, hopefully still in Wyoming where he last was. If he wasn’t there, he didn’t know what he was going to do next. It’s not like he could just google him.

Most people headed the other direction, towards Canada where it would be easier to get to. Not him. He had to head out to the great American west. Yee ha. He was going to freeze out here. He would freeze and she would never find him again.

He pictured her face, more beautiful now than she was as that girl that walked through his office door all those years ago. How did she do it? How did she survive the hell he dragged her through and still look like that? She should be broken but she wasn’t. She was… Scully.

The wind howled against the side of his tent and he fought to choke back the loneliness forming in the pit of his stomach. Once so sure he’d always be alone, now it was a horrible way to live. Or to die.

He’d wait for the sunrise and he would set out again, steering himself in the direction of one of the two good things left on this planet.

Then he could return to the other one and leave the cold behind.


In The Bleak Midwinter

Written for leiascully​ ‘s writing challenge. This took me an hour to write, and is unedited and unbeta-ed, as per instructions. It is post-col, which I have never really done before. but the “hot and cold” prompt made me think of Robert Frost’s Fire and Ice.

Fandom: The X-Files
Rating: PG
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Characters: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully
Summary:  Scully found she didn’t miss civilization much and it appalled her, the not missing it.

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