it all ends in blood; pg; au for s4 of the x-files, sometime after the episode "the field where I died."
Vernon Ephesian had been right about one thing. The end of the world was nigh, just as he’d said, although he hadn't been quite as clairvoyant about the how.
Still, another reason to hate the bastard, Mulder thought, taking careful aim before blowing off a zombie’s head.
“Mulder, down,” Scully yelled, somewhere to his left. He hit the floor without a second thought. A shot rang out over his head, and then blood was seeping towards him along the off-white tile floor of the grocery store as yet another member of the leagues of the undead collapsed in a mess of shattered bones and rotting skin. There was a moment of silence, and then another shot. Practical, conscientious Scully and her undying (heh) need to be certain
( ... )
Faint footsteps sounded behind him a minute later, and then Scully appeared at his elbow, saying, “Okay, I’ve got it, we’re good.”
“We’re all set?”
“Yeah,” she said, passing him a sealed plastic tube containing a used eye-dropper and thick, semi-coagulated zombie blood with ungloved hands. Then she paused, teetering a little on her feet. “Mulder -“ She reached out to grab his arm, stumbling, her head dropping to sway heavily.
“Scully? Scully,” Mulder said, panic blooming in his breast as he turned to face her fully, gripping her shoulders to steady her. “Hey, hey, Scully, come on, easy -“
She dragged her head up, her eyes flicking across his face like she couldn’t focus and her mouth pursed tight. Her skin was ashen. “Mulder?” she said, a note of confusion in her voice, but Mulder’s throat was too constricted at the sight of the thin trickle of blood falling down to from her nose to her lip to answer her call.
“Mulder,” she repeated, frowning. Then she seemed to realize what he was staring at, and she turned away with a quiet, “
( ... )
It had been too long now since they'd all forgotten that the wall was not built to keep out the children of men. The Others were coming, he had seen them. Jon had known. The day the dead man had walked was too many moons ago, his skin tainted with the blue and purple hues of moonlight, his eyes clouded and white. That night, it had been fire that had saved him and Commander Mormont. He prayed fire would save him now
( ... )
Hatter comprehends the idea of them better than Alice does, but not the horror. Everything in Wonderland is backwards, topsy-turvy, so why shouldn’t the dead shamble out of the graves, walk about? The violence is new-well, maybe not the violence, parse; because he was Hatter and he deals in secrets and drugs and back-crosses and double-crosses and guns and fists that can go through walls-but the horror of this violence, this grotesqueness, it is new for him. He struggles to understand-instead of killing, the eating, and then later the turning; the way Alice’s mom had looked, hollow eyes and broken jaw, pointed little nails curled like they were gnarled, reaching for them. Alice hadn’t thought-she had reacted; it hadn’t taken much to send her flying through the window
( ... )
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Vernon Ephesian had been right about one thing. The end of the world was nigh, just as he’d said, although he hadn't been quite as clairvoyant about the how.
Still, another reason to hate the bastard, Mulder thought, taking careful aim before blowing off a zombie’s head.
“Mulder, down,” Scully yelled, somewhere to his left. He hit the floor without a second thought. A shot rang out over his head, and then blood was seeping towards him along the off-white tile floor of the grocery store as yet another member of the leagues of the undead collapsed in a mess of shattered bones and rotting skin. There was a moment of silence, and then another shot. Practical, conscientious Scully and her undying (heh) need to be certain ( ... )
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“We’re all set?”
“Yeah,” she said, passing him a sealed plastic tube containing a used eye-dropper and thick, semi-coagulated zombie blood with ungloved hands. Then she paused, teetering a little on her feet. “Mulder -“ She reached out to grab his arm, stumbling, her head dropping to sway heavily.
“Scully? Scully,” Mulder said, panic blooming in his breast as he turned to face her fully, gripping her shoulders to steady her. “Hey, hey, Scully, come on, easy -“
She dragged her head up, her eyes flicking across his face like she couldn’t focus and her mouth pursed tight. Her skin was ashen. “Mulder?” she said, a note of confusion in her voice, but Mulder’s throat was too constricted at the sight of the thin trickle of blood falling down to from her nose to her lip to answer her call.
“Mulder,” she repeated, frowning. Then she seemed to realize what he was staring at, and she turned away with a quiet, “ ( ... )
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it is that look of the lioness to her man across the Nile
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syfy's alice. alice. hatter. pg13.
Hatter comprehends the idea of them better than Alice does, but not the horror. Everything in Wonderland is backwards, topsy-turvy, so why shouldn’t the dead shamble out of the graves, walk about? The violence is new-well, maybe not the violence, parse; because he was Hatter and he deals in secrets and drugs and back-crosses and double-crosses and guns and fists that can go through walls-but the horror of this violence, this grotesqueness, it is new for him. He struggles to understand-instead of killing, the eating, and then later the turning; the way Alice’s mom had looked, hollow eyes and broken jaw, pointed little nails curled like they were gnarled, reaching for them. Alice hadn’t thought-she had reacted; it hadn’t taken much to send her flying through the window ( ... )
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