the village hall


Forty-five minutes later Scully finds herself standing in a cold, dark room in just her underwear while two women in surgical masks — those aren’t going to help you, she wants to snap at them, but somehow it seems like that would hurt her cause — examine her for the sores and pustules that mark the beginnings of whatever plague has destroyed their entire world.

“I’m telling you, I’m not infected,” Scully says again.

“All the infected say that, too,” one woman mutters.

That’s probably true. Scully doesn’t ask what they do with the infected.

When they finally finish the examination, they watch her get dressed. She’s not usually self-conscious, but she hates the thought of strangers seeing her like this, all bone and sinew and stark-white skin. The women shove her out the door, back into the lobby of the village hall where she and Skinner had been frogmarched.

He’s sitting on a rusty folding chair and looks up when he hears her footsteps. Scully raises one eyebrow at him.

“They didn’t kill us,” Skinner says.

“There’s still time,” she retorts.

They head back out into the town, leaving the smell of bleach behind them. And their guns — the men at the barricade had insisted. “No weapons inside,” a silver-haired man told them gruffly. “You can get ‘em when you go.” His thin-lipped glare made it clear that their leaving couldn’t come soon enough.

“They knew what to look for,” Scully says. The women’s fingers prodding at the flesh beneath her ribcage, the lymph nodes under her arms. “I’ll give them that.”

“We’ve all seen a lot of death.”

As they walk, Skinner’s eyes take in everything. Sometimes it’s hard for her to believe he’s had a desk job for going on three decades.

There are a handful of people out on the street. Hell, they’ve shoveled the street so there’s one to stand on. It’s almost civilized — the extensive pat-down at the gate notwithstanding. Heads turn their way, looking them over — these new interlopers. Scully examines each face in the hope of recognition, but there’s no one she knows.

Except one.


Scully almost misses it. She’s hardly heard her own name these past few months, why would she answer to it? But the woman says it again and Skinner nudges her and her eyes finally focus in on the source of that voice.

It’s Mindy Rogalski. Micah’s mom, a fourth-grade teacher at Will’s old school. She runs — ran, Scully reminds herself — one of those ladies’ book clubs where no one reads the books and everyone drinks the wine. Mulder had teased her mercilessly for it, but Scully went every month. All those years in the FBI, she’d forgotten what it was like to have female friends.

The woman jogs over, her grin impossibly wide. “Dana!” she calls again, and an instant later Scully finds herself bowled over in Mindy’s embrace. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” Mindy says, sniffling a little. “Out in the middle of nowhere. It’s been hard enough…”

Scully pulls back to look at her. “How are the boys?” she asks, before realizing a split-second later that the question might be painful.

Thankfully Mindy just smiles again. “They’re okay. Worried about their friends. Worried…” The smiles fades. “Worried about everything, I guess. And yours?”

“Fine,” Scully says. “At home. I just came to — it’s been almost a month since we’ve heard any news. I was hoping there might be a message here for me.”

From behind them, Skinner grunts, and Scully turns to him. “This is Mindy,” she tells him, and to her friend she adds, “This is Walter. He's…an old colleague of Fox’s and mine. He’s been staying with us for a while.”

Skinner and Mindy shake hands and it’s fucking surreal. Like she’s making introductions at the apocalypse dinner party. Mulder made a joke about that once, years ago — something about how the world would end before Scully voluntarily hosted a party. Turns out he wasn’t wrong.

“Micah’s gonna be so glad to hear that Will’s all right,” Mindy says, and links her arm through Scully’s. “If you’re looking for a message, I can hook you up. I know a gal.” Her voice is breezy, and she turns to look over her shoulder at Skinner. “Your friend can come too.”


Hasui Kawase - Snow theme.
01. Evening Snow of Terajima Village (1920).
02. Snow at Ueno, Toshogu Shrine (1929).
03. Snow at Kinkakuji (1922).
04. Snow at Kiyomizu Hall (1929).
05. Senzoku Pond in Snow (1928).


How could I resist buying this book?

The king is ready for war. 

Louis of France is not yet thirty, and already he is the greatest king in Europe. He loves his subjects. He loves God. And his armies have never been defeated. 

This war, though, is different.

He is not fighting another army. 

He is not fighting another king. 

He is fighting three children.

And their dog.

On a dark night in 1242, travelers gather at a small French inn. It is the perfect night for a story, and everyone in the kingdom is consumed by the tale of three children: Jeanne, a peasant girl who has visions of the future; William, a young monk with supernatural strength; and Jacob, a Jewish boy who can heal any wound. Together, their powers will be tested by demons and dragons, cruel knights and cunning monks. From small villages to grand banquet halls, these three unlikely friends—and their faithful greyhound—are chased through France to a final showdown in the waves at the foot of the abbey-fortress of Mont-Saint-Michel. 

Messing about at MCM London Comic Con! Trying to show off my glowing shoes 😂
~~This is the last show of the year for me, so am letting my hair down! ✌️
Come find me at booth 111, in the South Hall, Comic Village

i used the men’s restroom today bc i was too lazy to walk all the way down to the ladies even tho I’m wearing a sports bra not a binder and while i was washing my hands a guy walked past but didn’t say anything just nodded at me

The Great Hall was filled with warmth a laughter. Drinks and food were being shared, there was music being played and several vikings and dragons were dancing to it, and everyone just seemed so happy.

Everyone, except Hicca. 

She watched from the corner at everyone. This was a tradition, a celebration to honor both the passing of one chief and the rising of a new one. This was tradition, but to Hicca it just felt wrong.

Outside the Great Hall the village was torn up by ice and Drago’s attack had caused them to loss so much. There was so much that she needed to fix now, so much her father would be able to fix if he was still here. 

She took a swig from the mug in her hand. One of the twins put it in her hands at some point, saying something about helping her relax. Astrid said it was a bad idea, but Hicca needed something to calm her nerves. 


Name: malin

Pronouns: she/hers & they/them

Timezone:  GMT+1

Zodiac: scorpio

List three things that describe your aesthetic: purple orchids, ornate bird cages and sprigs of rowan

If you were a supernatural creature what would you be and why?: i’m gonna go with hulder – a scandinavian creature known for protecting the woodlands and occasionally spiriting away humans from nearby villages into their halls of silver deep within the very mountains themselves.

A gif that describes you:

December 27, 1965 - an amazing number of jazz performers showed up to play a WBAI benefit at the Village Gate. The crowd was so big that Art D'Lugoff had to open another room, the Top of the Gate, and each of these great musicians appeared in both places! Monk’s manager, Jules Colomby, helped get it all together. Monk came early and fell asleep in the kitchen—it was a somewhat hectic but memorable night.

The thing I love most about Pokemon GO in my village is where they decided to put the gym

They could’ve put it in the church

They could’ve put it in the chapel

They could’ve put it in the village hall

But no
They didn’t even put it in a building