#I know it's me choosing to draw him like that but what a flop-bush of hair haha

[sysig]

Pull yourself together, man! [P1 | P2 | P3] (Patreon)

[shiversdownyerspine]

10. Douse

Still alive and kickin, I can’t be stopped!

18+

Expected to be set back on your feet as Axel reaches your screen door, you feel your face flush when you realize he fully intends to carry you out like this in front of his brothers.

At the sound of the handle turning with a creak, you promptly start flailing.

"Axel I can walk, you know I can walk! Let me down!"

Your cries falls on deaf ears. The relentless man releases the door handle to adjust his grip; the hand on your thigh slides higher, taking your dress with it, while his other grabs the back of your knee. Thrashing reduced to a much more controllable wiggling, he kicks the door open and steps into the sunlight.

Squirming and praying your rear is still covered, you try a different angle, "I will answer any questions you have about my Phase, I promise!"

That brings him to a stop. You brace your hands as close to his shoulders as you can and push off, shoving yourself backwards to his front.

With a gasp you slide down his chest as his hand cups your side to steady your quick descent. Your bare feet lightly pat atop the stone of the patio. The oh so cold wet stone.

Jolting at the chill, you look around the watery murder scene before turning your attention to the two culprits standing face to face like they're in some sort of showdown; Otto and Oscar, to their credit, have pristine feet. But at the cost of becoming drowned rats. 

You hold back laughter, but allow a wide smile. Their hair is an utter mess.

Otto and Oscar are ripped from their stalemate at the sound of your voice, "I'm sorry to say, but you're going to have to put your water war on pause. We should get this started before the weather takes a turn." 

Your next sentence you mutter just loud enough, "That and before a certain somebody gets impatient. And tries to carry people again."

The hand still at your side gives a soft warning squeeze that has you quickly scurrying over in the direction of your patio furniture before he can grab you up. You're not going to take any chances, you'd like to keep your feet on the ground thank you very much.

The younger brothers glance up at the sky to see rain clouds on the horizon. They wander closer to the cottage as you check and make sure the flower bushes close to ground zero haven't been completely flooded. Otto rewraps the hose as Oscar tries to squeeze out as much water as he can from his sweater. After securing the coils back on the hook, Otto slumps down in one of your wooden chairs. Sliding the messy locks of his hair out of his face, he gives Oscar the stink eye as his brother flops even more gracelessly down in the matching chair next to him.

Oscar pauses, taking a closer look at what you're wearing, and smacks Otto's elbow with the back of his hand. Otto glares at his sibling before his attention is directed to you. Admiration lightly flushes the large man's cheeks as Oscar grins at his reaction. Your usual wear is adorable, but they would kill to see you in something light and flowy like this again...and judging from the possessive hand Axel has rested at your back after he makes his way to you, he approves as well.

Trying not to focus entirely on the warmth of the eldest brother's hand, you step carefully to the wooden bench sitting adjacent to the chairs. Taking a seat, your feet lift quickly from the chilly shallow lake below as Axel follows close behind you. 

Sitting beside you, the man pulls your knife from his pocket, and begins with a simple, "Explain this."

Your eyes flash stubbornly. Did he really think you were going to make this easy for him? After his earlier stunt? Right.

As innocently as you can, you reply, "Axel that's a paring knife. You cook, you should really know this."

Oscar chokes his laugh down as Otto clears his throat. Unbeknownst to the two of you, the younger brothers had actually been locked in water combat for only a short time; earlier on Otto had gotten distracted by you and Axel, and Oscar had noticed where his tallest brother's attention had been directed. You both have had a captive audience pretty much the entire time.

At least until Axel had made his way over to the screen door with you tossed over his shoulder. Oscar had immediately grabbed the hose and did what he had to do to hide any sign of their guilty observation and eavesdropping. Otto hadn't been amused, but he begrudgingly understood that they may have needed some sort of alibi.

Axel's nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing as he thumbs along the blade.

He drawls, "What do you do with it."

Keeping a straight face is becoming a bit difficult. He is making this too much fun for you.

With slight confusion you reply, "...It's...it's in the name."

The silence from Axel nearly breaks Oscar. Otto has his poker face on and appears unaffected by your antics, but the mirth in his eyes tells a different story.

As for Axel? He betrays almost nothing, maybe a mild frustration at best. But his brothers would bet money that their older sibling is resisting some rather...lustful urges right now. Your teasing bothers the eldest in the worst way...or maybe the best.

Your eyes fall to the knife in Axel's hand. Might as well get this show on the road.

"...But yes, I do use it differently. I use it as an aid for my ability. When I want to change into my Phase, that knife provides me with a method that gives me the most control. If I vary the depth of the cut, I can adjust the time I spend in my Phase."

Oscar glances at the little unassuming tool before asking, "Change for what?"

You shift on the bench, getting a little more comfortable.

"Well. When I first started living here, my forest and lake were in pretty poor condition. Garbage and filth had been left sitting for years, which meant the soil was being smothered by water that couldn't drain the way it needed to. Because of the waterlogging, many of the trees developed root rot."

Cocking your head to the side, you recall the information provided by your environment books. You had spent countless hours reading and notetaking, determined to restore your childhood home.

"Root rot isn't the most dangerous thing, but it can be tricky to identify in its early stages. A little less than half of the pines were infected, a good amount too far gone. Their root systems had basically been turned to mush."

You worried for a moment you were boring the three who may have been expecting something more thrilling, but they appeared to be listening quite intently. They had mentioned hunting and fishing in their lives, so you'd have to remember these three weren't just assassins, they were woodsmen. Maybe this was right up their alley?

"So! The biggest problem I had at the end of the day, was identifying pines in early stages of rot. Not to mention a lack of tools to do so. But I knew that my ability affected my senses, and thought maybe I could use that."

Otto murmurs, "Better senses?"

You pause, "...Yes and no. Um...take my eyesight for example, my night vision. My eyes are better at night but are more sensitive to light, kind of like..an owl's. So in that aspect, it's situational. Better at night, weaker in the day. If there is anything I can call 'better' outright, it'd be my hearing and balance. But not by much."

Fidgeting with the hem of your dress, you fight back bashfulness at talking about a part of your ability that is particularly...bestial.

"When I was in my forest in my Phase, I..was using smell. Normally you smell root rot from the soil, it'll be bad...swampy. But with time and practice, I could smell the rot itself. I can't really describe it other than it's very...heavy."

Decay in particular stood out to you; a combination of sharp and dark, old and new and lost. You count yourself very lucky that you had no urges to consume those types of things, given the peculiar animalness of your ability.

"So, that's what I use my knife for."

You lean against the side of the bench, folding your arms over your belly as you think. There was something else...

"Oh right! You wanted to know um...why I didn't attack you three the first time? To put it simply, instinct plays a part in what I choose to perceive as a threat when I'm in my Phase. It's...decently reliable."

Otto shifts, grimacing at the wet feel of his long johns sticking to his skin, before asking, "To you, not a threat?"

A soft sigh leaves your lips, "I haven't really been in many dangerous situations in my life. But uh...when you three caught me...there was no sinking, overpowering, awful sensation. It was quiet. I was really nervous, definitely, but it felt like...I could wait? So I did."

You smile a little, "Besides, my healing gives me a little more wiggle room in terms of patience."

Oscar shuffling in his seat draws your attention; he does not appear to be happily enduring the texture of his soaked turtleneck, and his frustration is mounting. Refusing to be trapped and uncomfortable any longer, he slips his suspenders off his shoulders and drags the article of clothing up and off his body.

With flushed cheeks, you watch him drop the sweater onto the arm of his chair and relax half-naked in his seat. You try to distract yourself from the handsome man, to rip your eyes away before you're caught.

You succeed, much to your relief. Only that relief is temporary as your eyes land on Otto, whose clinging long johns have been rendered nearly see-through and what were you talking about again?

When Oscar returns his attention to you to see you tense and cheeks practically glowing with your gaze riveted to your knees, he smirks. Oh sweetheart, you can look if you want, they won't bite.

Well. Not too hard at least.

Besides, they've all been looking at you for quite some time. Not to mention having some not very polite daydreams involving you. Do you think of them too? Of their hands and mouths on you, fingers and tongues inside of you, bodies pressed tight against yours?

Curiously, he looks to Axel, whose interest is still on the knife...except its not, not at all. He's watching you, eyes half-lidded with a wicked spark glimmering in their depths. He'd seen your reactions, and if Oscar had to guess, was having some more indecent thoughts of you right now.

You're trying to convince yourself that the burning gazes you feel are simply the brothers thinking of questions...but if that's all it is, why do you feel so naked?

You squirm; it's probably just in your head, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet their eyes just yet. You need something to keep the ball rolling, before this silence stretches on for too long.

Well...there is something that's been on your mind lately...

"...If..If you don't mind me asking you all a question?"

That seems to break the trance they were in, curiosity pushing through.

Axel encourages, "Go on."

You approach the question gingerly, "Alright..so doing the work that you do...I'd imagine one of your stronger instincts would be protecting yourselves and each other. Avoid hesitation...shoot first ask questions later? And...well?.....you all saw some..weird...woman?..animal?!?..looking thing! With glowing eyes, like something out of a nightmare. Why did you let me live?"

The silence and quiet shifting of their bodies that follows your question is enough to draw your eyes up from your knees.

The brothers had their gazes fixed on you, but after they have processed your inquiry, they falter. Oscar and Otto look to Axel, to you, and to each other. You watch them under your lashes the entire time, a little surprised to see them so...unsure. Axel had settled against the back of the seat, thinking. He seemed far away, lost in old memory. 

Otto keeps his eyes trained on his hands where they rest...were his ears a bit red? 

He mutters something and his brothers look to him in mild surprise.

He clears his throat and tries again, carefully, "Not..night hag...dream? You are...story?"

Scowling with frustration, Otto sighs, "Jävla engelska."

Oscar elaborates, "From fairytale."

Their admission brings back bittersweet memories.

Content to reminisce, yet a little forlorn, your eyes fall to the water that has submerged the stone floor of your patio.

"You know. When I first discovered what I was..or..what I wasn't?..the very first thing I did was grab any fairytale books I could find. Folklore, myths and legends, anything. We didn't have a very good collection though, and many were basically the same stories, but I had to be sure. In the end, there wasn't anything really like me in them. Of course."

It had been disheartening. You had been so naive; you had thought that maybe you could have found some kind of answer or reason for being the way you were, some kind of history or even family. Myths and tales had to come from somewhere, right? Hold some speck of truth.

Wanting to do something about the soft, sad expression on your face, Oscar lightheartedly teases, "Werewolf?"

It works.

Biting your lip, a grin slips through with a giggle, "I considered maybe something like that, but since there was no..changing under a full moon, I crossed it off the list."

You fidget, a little sheepish as you admit, "I still read any new fairytale books I can find in town. I'm not exactly looking for anything anymore, but...well, habit is habit I suppose."

Every once in a while you'd pull a book from the small collection locked away in your bedroom to read as you were winding down for the night. That or to pass the time as your condition played Keep Away with your sleep.

Axel finally drifts out of the past to join in, "We were told stories in childhood. Women with tails, or hooves. Forest spirits."

Otto hums, "Skogsrå or Huldran."

Oscar grins, "Forest maiden."

When all three had laid eyes on you, they had to fight back the initial knee-jerk reaction that they had encountered a real mythical creature. After the three had retired to their guest room to regroup, a dazed Otto just sat on the bed and stared into nothing while Oscar had jokingly asked if they could keep you. 

Half-jokingly.

Their curiosity about you had been...exceptional, but they still had manners they needed to mind. Drowning you in personal questions for hours and hours on end was too boorish, their mother had taught them better. They wouldn't subject their polite little hostess to such disrespect.

With a smile you say, "No tails or hooves here, just feathers and scales. And claws."

A ripple breaking the calm surface of water surrounding the bench has you peering up to an overcast sky. Maybe it would have been better to stay inside after all, but a light drizzle never hurt anyone. You can count yourself lucky that cold water doesn't bother your condition all that much...unless it's a cold season downpour.

The brothers look to your hands, recalling the new information you had revealed to Otto about your victim. 

Axel leans in, "Tell us about claws."

You hesitate, considering your response, "Well...they're...basically made of keratin. I think. Like fingernails but stronger. They're not that long, so they can't really be called talons, but they help me grip and climb."

Otto questions, "Not fight?"

Flexing your fingers against the material of your dress, you speculate, "That's...I mean, if I took a swipe at someone I would probably leave a bit of a cut. Although if I went for the eyes that'd be a different story..."

Confusion crosses the brothers' faces. How exactly did you kill the man, then? Was it the adrenaline?

Axel asks what's on their minds, "Can't kill?"

You figured after everything you said to Otto that this would be coming.

"...I know what you're getting at. You want to know how I did..what I did."

You lock eyes with the eldest, bold as you simply state, "I won't be answering questions about that today."

Determination sets the oldest Swede's jaw, "You made a promise to tell everything. Was this a lie?"

Unsettled, you speak before you can think, "Everything about my First Phase, yes! I haven't lied!"

You clap your hands over your traitorous mouth.

Axel blinks, and then slowly, surely, his expression slides into something sly and victorious; you've revealed something quite interesting. Only for a moment do you bear witness to the brothers' growing intrigue before you cover your eyes, head bowing to hide your face in your hands in pure frustration.

Oscar's voice drifts into your ears, "First Phase? More than one?"

You groan, "See, this is my problem. I like you three too much and it makes me slip up in such stupid ways. Fudge muffins."

The three assassins perk up at the additional reveal of your fondness for them, carefully storing that particular little nugget of information away to be closely inspected at a later time. For now, their focus is elsewhere.

Before they can push for a little more clarification from you, a flash of lightning interrupts the conversation. Worried, you turn to the men with a frown.

"We should move this inside, Pumpkin really doesn't like thunderstorms. Not to mention the kittens will probably be scared too."

Oscar is the first to react to the information; leaning far to the side in his chair to peer at the screen door, he can make out a little ball of orange fluff curled tight against the door in misery. You stand, the brothers quick to follow in your lead.

As you head towards the door peering this way and that at your arms and legs, you mention, "Don't forget to check for spiders before heading in. It's been a while."

Otto grunts and the trio do a quick once-over as you pause by the hose to rinse your feet, watching Axel out of the corner of your eye.

Hm. He really didn't check all that carefully...you eye the hose, weighing the risk. Really though, don't you deserve a little revenge?

Yes, yes you do.

Instrument of justice in hand, you take aim and blast him with what water was left in the hose before you have the chance to talk some sense into yourself.

Surprisingly, all the man does is tense up, still like a statue. There's no grunt or bark of surprise, though maybe you heard a sharp intake of breath from him?

Hair disheveled and wide-eyed as water drips from his skin and clothes, he stares at you. His younger brothers mirror his disbelieving expression and you can't help but take pride in the thought that you've successfully surprised all three of them.

You offer him a simple explanation for the impromptu shower, backing slowly away from the hose towards the door to the cottage all the while.

"...You missed a spot."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jävla engelska-   Fucking English

[always-evak]

9th December

Time to be brave and make good on the description that I might write fic occasionally so here’s my first attempt at writing anything for SKAM.  Ideally I would have got this out on the right day but I only got inspired to write after rewatching *that* episode.

It’s 9th December 2020 and Isak has somewhere he needs to be.

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can do so here

*****

"Isak, where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

Isak pauses in the act of grabbing his jacket, guilt written clear across his face and calling him a liar.  The fact he's already got his shoes on doesn't help his case.

"Isak?"  There's a single raised eyebrow from Even where he's leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, watching as Isak squirms uncomfortably.  

"I'm just heading out.  Okay?" Isak responds with twin raised eyebrows of his own and a glare of teenage rebellion that isn't often seen now that he's no longer a teenager.

"Jonas?"

Isak shrugs a non-answer, throws a jacket on over his hoodie, pulls the hood up over his snapback and heads out into the grim night.  

Even watches the apartment door click closed then rolls off his own doorframe and heads back into the lounge.  He's used to Isak's moods, and after 4 years together he can read them pretty well, but there's something about Isak's demeanor tonight that doesn't sit right.  Pulling out his phone he quickly scrolls through the contacts to J and starts tapping out a message.  

Til Jonas:

Is everything okay with Isak?

The typing bubbles appear almost immediately and he sits, staring at the screen.

Fra Jonas:

You'll have to ask him yourself

The message does nothing to quell the misgivings Even has.  There had been nothing to suggest that things had been anything but fine, if anything Isak had been in good spirits looking forward to spending Christmas in their new apartment.  The move to a place that actually had a separate bedroom and lounge meant the chance to have a proper Christmas tree and Isak has displayed almost childlike glee at the prospect of picking out new decorations.  They were settled.  Happy.

At least everything had seemed okay until today.  Isak had been fine over breakfast but this evening had been a different story, his boyfriend had been distracted and distant, preoccupied with something weighing heavy on his mind.

It's a short scroll up from J to I and this time Even hits the dial button.  He's not entirely surprised when the call gets rejected after two rings, shunting him through to the electronic tones of voicemail.  He doesn't bother leaving a message.  All he can do is sit and wait and hope that Isak comes back to him.

***

It’s not really a surprise when the phone in his pocket starts vibrating, the ringtone cutting through the night air.  Isak isn’t too sure why he couldn’t tell Even where he was headed, except Even probably would have insisted on coming too and for some reason Isak knows he needs to make this pilgrimage alone.  He gives the screen a cursory glance to confirm it’s Even before hitting the icon to reject the call.  The lock screen flashes back up and his steps quicken when he sees the time, their new apartment is closer to Nissen than the old one but he’s still going to be cutting it fine.  Tonight, just like four years ago, it’s vitally important he makes it in time.  

His breath in making clouds in the freezing air and he’s running, dodging across roads and skittering round corners until he’s there.  The area looks the same as ever, the bench framed by the bush behind it, perhaps a little more paint has flaked away from the weathered planks but essentially it’s the same.  This time there is no feeling of dread at seeing the seat empty, no stomach plunging heart stopping moment of fear that he had been too late, instead it’s a relief that he doesn’t have to share this moment with anyone.

He jumps up to perch on the back, the same way Even had been sitting that night during the kosagruppa meeting.  He’s come a long way since that night.  So much has changed since that shared smoke that got interrupted by Emma.  There have been good times and bad but for some reason this bench with it’s scuffed yellow paint has become an anchor point for him.

He pulls out his phone and checks the time.  21:20.  There’s just time grab the crumpled envelope out of his other pocket, the one he knows Jonas is responsible for despite the only writing on it being Isak, for ikveld, he would recognise that untidy scrawl anywhere and anyway, who else but Jonas would think of it.  The envelope is empty apart from a single rolled joint.  He doesn’t smoke much now, the responsibilities of life mean that there are much more pressing uses for his and Even’s limited funds, a bigger apartment for starters, and it doesn’t seem fair to smoke when Even has given it up completely.  He makes a mental note to thank Jonas who still seems to know him better than he knows himself sometimes.

There’s the spark of a lighter and then he’s drawing in the first breath as the clock ticks over to 21:21.

It’s their time.  It’s his time.  21:21 has punctuated his life and so he settles down to smoke and think, the same as he has done on this night for the last three years and will probably continue to do.  

There’s a ritual now and he finds himself going through the motions, pulling out his phone as the first buzz of weed hits his system and scrolling through the photos.  It’s a different phone to the one he had 4 years ago but he has a screengrab.  The text message fills the screen and he reads through the words even though he knows them by heart.  As he reads he can almost see the two figures meeting in front of the bench, his past self rushing in from the street to be confronted by devastating loneliness until Even appears like a fallen angel through the door that is currently locked and in darkness,  

The joint burns down as he replays the scene in his mind’s eye.  Their night of salvation.  The night he chose, once and for all, to leave behind the baggage of the past, to leave behind his parents.  The night he chose Even, fragile and broken as he was.  But Even wasn’t the only broken one.  9th December was the night he himself became whole again. 

Only when the last stub has been ground out against the planks that have witnessed so much does he leave the silent square and turn his steps for home.

***

The sound of the key in the lock startles Even out of his brooding.  He hadn’t expected Isak back so soon, hadn’t even been sure if he would return at all that night, so it was with some relief that he turned to watch as Isak sidled in through the door, beads moisture glittering on the curls that have escaped his hood.  He knows better than to crowd Isak when something is wrong, knows that if his boyfriend needed his comfort he would seek it out as he so often had, so however much he yearns to reach out and crush Isak against him instead he gives Isak space to toe off his shoes and rehang his jacket.  It takes a lot of willpower to stay on the couch but somehow he manages it.

Isak appears in the lounge a moment later and there’s serenity about him that hadn’t been there earlier.  He flops down on the couch and drags Even’s arm around him, settling himself down comfortably.  Even uses his free hand to throw Isak’s snapback into a corner so he can press a kiss to the top of that bonde head pressed against him.  It’s as though the entire last hour hasn’t happened except the Isak of an hour ago was decidedly more grumpy.

“So, are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

Isak nestles in deeper, gently entwining his fingers with Even’s.  He knows he probably owes Even a reason for his abrupt departure but he’s not meant to be the sentimental one in this relationship.  Even is the artist that ascribes meaning and significance to things, he’s the counterbalance, the one that rolls his eyes at traditions.  The role reversal makes him feel awkward. 

His first year of observance had been wholly coincidental.  Mostly coincidental.  Okay, he hadn’t really needed to take the route past Nissen on the way to the party but it wasn’t that far out of his way and so he’d found himself at the bench, a bag of beers in one hand and a pouch of weed in his pocket at just the right time to pause and take a moment out of his life to reflect on when things had changed.  Of course afterwards he’d had to explain to Jonas what had taken him so long which was why he knew about the whole thing.  Even hadn’t been at the party, had pulled a late shift at work, and for some reason best known to himself Isak had never mentioned his visit to the bench.

The following two occasions Even had been busy too, 2018 had been another work shift, 2019 he had been setting up for an exhibition for part of his university course.  On both occasions Isak had made use of time alone to bend his steps towards Nissen and reflect on the past year and everything Even meant to him.

This year should have been no different.  A quiet moment to himself with just the ghosts of the past for company.  Except this year Even had been home and now he was worried, Isak could feel the tension in Even’s body, the frame moulded round his not quite so soft and yielding as usual. 

“You’ve been smoking.”  The tone isn’t quite accusatory but there is bluntness with a slight edge of disappointment.

“Jonas gave it to me.”

“You’ve been with Jonas?”

“No.”  And he pulls the now empty envelope from his pocket in answer to the questions he knows are coming, the words ‘for tonight’ clearly visible.  “He sent it earlier.”

“But why?”

And this is the moment Isak knows he has to choose.  The choice between baring his soul or brushing the moment aside because as much as he might try and claim he doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body the truth is that moment is etched into him profoundly.  And because this is Even he chooses the truth.

“It’s 9th December.”

There’s a slight shift of confusion and that's perhaps not a surprise, at the time Even had been in the riding the peaks and troughs of the vicious cycle of mania and while he might be able to place the events at some time in mid-December, the 9th is unlikely to spring to mind specifically.

“The night of the Christmas concert,” Isak elaborates slightly.

“The last time you saw your parents,” it’s little more than a whisper as the realisation of what night this is hits Even.  9th December 2016 had been the last physical interaction Isak had had with the people who used to be his family, the only contact afterwards had been one very explosive phone call and the occasional money transfer until even that had fizzled out.  It’s enough to make Isak irate.

“Nei!” he exclaims as he twists towards Even, the vehement anger on his face at the mention of his parents enough to scare off lesser men than Even Bech Næsheim.  “This is nothing to do with them and they do not get to be a part of this,” his voice softens before he continues, “it’s the night I realised I couldn’t bear to lose you.”  A whisper, “it’s the night I thought I had lost you.  Forever.”

“I'm sorry I scared you.” Even now understands why Isak had disappeared even if he isn't certain what he has been doing to mark the occasion.   For his own part he's not quite sure what would have happened if Isak hadn't arrived that night and he had been left to face his demons alone.  He's glad he never had to find out.  

"It wasn't your fault.  But every year since…" he pauses and takes a deep breath, "every year since I've gone back to our bench.  It's hard to explain why but it's kinda grounding.  Makes me grateful for everything I've got.  For us.  But I wasn't ready to share that moment.  It had to be just me.  Alone."

"Oh Isak." Even pulls him in closer, burying his nose in blonde curls.  "Du er ikke alene."

[joelyjo]

A right bollocking. As if anyone is allowed on the grass at Oxford.

Heh heh. As if. 

I can imagine the scene…

The streets of Oxford are glistening with ice, slick in places so that it pays to watch where you’re going. It is winter, early January, but he’s far from cold. The combined heat of three whiskies, four pints and half a decanter of port is thrumming in his veins. The spliff Peter Laird slipped into his coat pocket just before they parted ways outside the Eagle and Child hangs from his bottom lip, the red end glowing darkly. He smokes the thing contemplatively on his stumbling journey back to his college, wondering if Tolkien once did the same thing on his way back from his regular watering hole. 

Back at Magdalen, spliff end thrown hastily into a bush, he creeps past the porter’s hut, peering through the glass to see the fat bastard snoring away in his chair, oblivious to anyone passing by him. So much for site security, he thinks. The college grounds are deserted though, so he can see why the porter has drifted off. By this time of the night, most of the students are packed off in their rooms, sensible academic souls that they are. He walks into the quad and halts. He’s not so drunk and compromised that he can’t remember the reason he left the pub before they got kicked out. A quick glance at his watch and a scan of the heavens and he knows what to do next. 

In the middle of the grass, he flops down and spread-eagles himself on his back, tucking his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow. Above him, the night sky is clear and inky black with a sliver of a crescent moon - the perfect night for star watching. He draws a deep breath. 

A few moments later, it begins. The first one is vague, barely noticeable, a tiny streak of light shooting across the sky. But then there are more, and more, and more, and soon there is a veritable firework show zipping above him. 

He is utterly engrossed when he hears a shout breaking through the silence, “Oi! Mister Mulder, I know that’s you! Get off the grass you disrespectful bloody Yank!”

Mulder jumps to his feet; the porter is coming towards him, moving as fast as his barrel belly will allow, face red with indignation. “Shit,” he curses under his breath. He contemplates whether to face up to his crime or whether to make a run for it and opts for the latter, sprinting off in the opposite direction. 

“I’ll have you tomorrow, my son!” he hears the porter bellow as he skids around the corner and takes the steps to his rooms two at a time. He’s at the door of his room when he almost stumbles over her sitting in the hallway, her back up against the wood. 

“Phoebe, hey,” he says. She looks up at him with shifting, drunken eyes and gets unsteadily to her feet. 

“Fox, I’ve been waiting for you.” Like the snake he knows she is, she wraps her arms around his neck and embraces him. She starts to kiss him, her lips wet and her mouth tasting of smoke, even though she doesn’t smoke. He pulls back. 

“What… what are you doing here? I thought you said…?” 

“I say a lot of things, Fox,” she murmurs into his mouth. “Now are you going to let me in or not? I could really use a good shag…”   

***

But, flight of fancy over, I imagine there’d have been a fair bit of adjustment needed on Mulder’s behalf. I have a lot of questions about what those years were like for him. Why did he choose to go there and not, for example, to one of the Ivy League schools? What did Phoebe Green do to him to fuck him up? What else went on with women? Why did he choose to come back home after three or four years away, given how unhappy his childhood was and how strained his relationship was with his parents?  

[last-living-imagines]

can we please get some of murdoc's lil daughter helping the rest of the gang surprise her dad for his birthday 🙌🏼🙏🏽

Of course! Only the best for our favorite bassist~

Side note: THIS IS SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT LMAO HAPPY BIRTHDAY MURDOC!

“Mudz! Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Noodle crossed her arms, huffing as she blew her bangs out of her eyes. For Murdoc’s birthday, she was tasked with keeping him out of the house all day– so she had plenty of interviews and shoots set up to keep him busy. Russel and 2D would be staying back at the house with Lilith, who wanted to throw her dad a surprise party. Russel had been tasked with cooking, as the little girl quickly learned that her blue-haired uncle was not the best chef. 2D would instead decorate– “You can reach tall places!” Lilith had gestured around to the corners of the house. “That’s where the streamers go.”

“Alright, geez.” Murdoc came downstairs, slipping his jacket over his shoulders. “They couldn’t have scheduled these damn things a different day?” He grumbled, looking around for his daughter so he could say goodbye. 

“Daddy!” Lilith came bounding out of the kitchen, arms held out for a hug. Murdoc easily caught her and scooped her up into his arms, kissing her temple. 

“There’s my little hellraiser.” Lilith giggled at the nickname. “Do you know what today is?” 

“Your birthday!” She clapped, a mischievous smile forming on her face. “You’re oooooold.” At this, Murdoc rolled his eyes, kissing her again before setting her back down. Noodle had to excuse herself outside because she was laughing so hard.

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me kid. We’ll be back later, okay? Stay here with your uncles.” Murdoc ruffled his daughters dark locks before following Noodle out the door. Before it could close, Lil ran to the door.

“Ahem!” She stamped her foot as watched her father turn back, shouting a “love you!” to her before sticking his tongue out at her. Letting the door close behind her, Lilith ran back into the kitchen. “He’s gone! We gotta start now Uncle Russ!” 

2D laughed from where he sat at the island in the middle of the room. “Calm down there, little one.” He shook his head, gesturing for her to sit with him. “Ya gotta finish ya breakfast first.” 

As the morning turned into afternoon, Lilith had been making a card for Murdoc so they didn’t have to go try and find one. She’d had to restart a few times though, since she misspelled ‘birthday’ and didn’t like her drawing. “How’s it going Lil?” Russel peeked over his shoulder. He was currently making the frosting to put on the cake– trying to make a nice turquoise color was not as easy as it appeared. 

“Almost done!” She finished coloring in the heart she had drawn (with a little help from 2D) and held it up for her uncle to see. 

“Very nice!” Russ gave her a thumbs up, turning back to his still too green frosting. He accidentally squirted more drops of food coloring into the bowl than he wanted because of 2D’s unexpected screaming. Before he could react, Lilith was out of the room, ready to save her other uncle from whatever thing had hurt him.

Turns out, 2D screamed over a slightly-bigger-than-normal spider that ‘came out of nowhere.’ He picked Lilith up so she could reach the bug, letting her pick it up before shooing her toward the door to let it outside. “It’s just a spider, Uncle Stu! Just wants to eat other bad buggies.” She smiled at it before setting it down in the bushes outside the door. 

2D rubbed his hands over his face, shaking off the fright the insect had given him. “Now that it’s gone, ya wouldn’t mind helping me a little more, would ya?” He held up the roll of tape he had been sticking streamers up with. 

After wrapping the presents and decorating the cake, it was time to wait. Something Lilith absolutely hated doing. “Uncle Russsssss,” She whined, pulling on his arm and twisting around on the floor. They had finished setting everything up about 20 minutes ago, Noodle letting them know they would be home soon and that she’d let them know when they were pulling into the driveway. “How much loooonger?” She let go of him, flopping onto the floor in a heap. She had never been a patient child, something she definitely inherited from Murdoc.

“Shouldn’t be much longer.” He checked his phone again, his eyes lighting up when a message from Noodle appeared. “They’re back! Quick, go wait over on the stairs.” He smiled as she dragged 2D with her by the pant leg.

“I’m comin’! No need to drag me like that.” 2D shook his head, smiling at his niece. Out of everyone in the band, Stu was happiest that Lilith came to live with them– she was making Murdoc a *somewhat* better person and for that he was grateful. While she may be a clone of her father, she was much more gentle and kind.

Noodle bit her lip to suppress the grin that so desperately wanted to form on her face as she looked up at the darkened windows of Kong. She turned to see Murdoc flick what was left of his cigarette on the ground, giving her an odd look. “What’s with you?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Oh nothing! I’m just happy to be back. I can finally get some food in me.” She led him up the walkway, choosing to ignore whatever he was mumbling under his breath. She opened up the door, grinning into the darkness.

“What the-? Why’s it so damn dar–” Murdoc’s hand flew in front of his eyes as the lights suddenly turned on, blinding the ever living hell out of him.

“Surprise!” The four of them cheered. Murdoc glanced around to see streamers and balloons hung up around the room and in the kitchen. He grinned at his bandmates and daughter, laughing as she ran to him.

 “Were you surprised?” Lilith smiled, throwing her arms around his neck. He nodded, kissing the side of her head before looking back at the band. 

“You lot did this for little ol’ me?” 

“It wasn’t our idea.” 2D nodded toward Lilith, who hid her blushing in Murdoc’s neck. “Now come on, Russ made food and I can’t wait to eat it anymore.” 

Oh, how badly Noodle wanted to push Murdoc’s face into the cake. Her hand’s twitched as she tried to hold back, wanting him to at least read what it said on top. “Really? ‘You’re old?’” Murdoc chided them and shook his head, grumbling about how he didn’t need to be reminded. 

“I’M DOING IT!” Noodle pushed his head into the cake, laughing as she scurried away from his grasp. Lilith couldn’t help the fits of laughter that fell from her lips as she joined her aunt on the floor, who was holding her stomach from laughing so hard. 2D, who was sat next to Mudz, began to slowly scoot away in fear of his wrath. To everyone’s surprise, Murdoc sat up– frosting covering his face and in his hair– and laughed. He was only laughing because he knew exactly how he was getting Noodle back. Murdoc wiped the frosting from around his eyes, quickly grabbing the woman and running out the back door. Lilith and her uncles watched from the window as Noodle desperately tried to hang onto him, screaming as she was thrown into the pool behind her. 

“Uh-oh.” Lilith ran screaming into the bathroom, knowing she was next. She watched from the crack under the door to see who came up to the door, making sure it wasn’t her father’s boots. Instead, she saw Russel’s sneakers appear. “Password?”

“Bubblegum.” Russel watched her peek outside, making sure it was just him. “Don’t worry– he’s gonna get washed off.” He winked, leading her out to where Mudz was bent over helping Noodle out of the water. Russel picked up the green man, tossing him in.

“What the fuuuuuuuck!” Murdoc screeched as he sank underwater, his middle finger being the first thing to come up.

“This one next!” Lilith pushed a long box across the floor, struggling with the weight. “I picked it out.” She grinned up at her father as she finally got the box in front of him. As he flipped the lid on the box, his eyes landed on a beautiful purple bass. When he picked it up, it glittered in the light and almost seemed to turn black. 

“This is perfect!” Murdoc grabbed his daughter and kissed her cheek, thanking her for the very thoughtful gift. “You did a good job, my little devil.” He looked back down to grab the card that was inside, seeing a picture of the five of them that Lilith had drawn just for him. 

“Ha! My card is better than the one you got, ‘D.” He stuck his tongue out at the singer, who flipped him off. 

“Thank you all for these lovely gifts. Really, I mean it.” He held Lilith just a little closer, smiling at his bandmates. His odd little family might not be much, but to Murdoc, he wouldn’t have it any other way.