#finally returning to mordhaus

[supersecretmetalocalypseblog]

OH and while I'm thinking about it, what about post-aotd Charles being stressed out about like "oh, the band doesnt need me anymore" and DK getting to be like "no but we WANT you" and he gets to be like "ah they do care" crying and throwing up and screaming and dying ok that's all I'm probably not gonna post anymore tonight

I feel like charles is just on the brink of having a crisis, it's just been on the back burner ever since he found out about the prophecy

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 3

Horror Movie Crossover

I love horror movies and I love Skwistok so I tried to tackle a very popular trope often seen in horror movies featuring, well, these guys.

I think it's pretty obvious movie which movie I'm referencing so I won't say it, haha.

Toki barely managed to close the door before Skwisgaar lunged at him. “Stops!” He laughed, though he didn’t really push him away.

“No ways…” Skwisgaar hummed, stealing kisses to Toki’s neck. “We ams finallies alone…” Slowly, he worked his way up to Toki’s jaw. “Dey was drivins me crazy, you knows?”

“Ja…” Toki half-assedly agreed, the attention too distracting. “Dey was…”

“Hm…” Skwisgaar licked the outline of Toki’s ear. “What you says we…” One of his hands suggestively squeezed Toki’s side.

“Buts…” Toki weakly protested, as Skwisgaar’s hand dove inside his shirt. “It ams soes nice outside…” Everyone had gone to swim at the lake because it was so damn hot and Toki wanted to get changed to join them. Because it was summer and it was…a vacation, right? Toki was pretty sure of it but Skwisgaar’s fingers were making him question reality. 

“We has times…” Skwisgaar said in a throaty voice, before his lips suckled the skin on Toki’s neck. “We has lotsa times…”

Any reluctance in Toki’s mind faded away the moment Skwisgaar’s eyes laid on him, his own eyelids growing heavy. As their mouths met, Toki decided to put the swimming plans on hold. 

It wasn’t all that recent since they started messing around, though they still hadn’t told…anyone, really. Honesty, it just added to the thrill of it, to keep a secret that big from the rest of the band. 

So, when Charles suggested they take a few days off recording at some random cabin well within american forests, the excitement was palpable. They would be free to disappear to get raunchy together, without having to justify their absence to the other three, which would sometimes happen back in Mordhaus. 

…They just didn’t expect for the trip to be in a car, so they couldn’t sneak in any incidental gropes or whisper dirty things in each other’s ear like they would’ve on a plane or bus. Of course the moment they freed themselves of his friends was meant to end like this. 

Not to mention, Skwisgaar wanting him so badly was a turn on in itself. 

The bed squeaked under the weight as they continued making out. Skwisgaar quickly got rid of his shirt, his lips returning to Toki’s with urgency. Aroused, Toki reached for Skwisgaar’s belt and undid it in a matter of seconds. He had barely taken it off when he heard a creak outside their room.

“Waits.” 

“Whats?” Skwisgaar’s face was buried in Toki’s neck.

“I heards somet’ings.” Toki whispered, gesturing to the door when Skwisgaar lifted his head.

Frowning, Skwisgaar glared at the door. “Who ams there?”

No response. No noise either.

After a while, Skwisgaar shrugged. “Maybe it ams de winds.”

“J-Ja.” Toki chuckled and they continued as if nothing had happened. 

Toki took off his shirt and Skwisgaar’s lips began tracing a loving path down his abdomen. Toki closed his eyes and sighed, focusing on the sensation of skin against skin and the warmth of Skwisgaar’s touch. So, it was to his utmost surprise when Skwisgaar suddenly stopped.

“Da fucks…” Toki heard him say and he opened his eyes.

Skwisgaar was staring at the door in disbelief. When he turned to look, he saw it was slowly opening, as if someone had pushed it. “Wha…”

“Alrights.” Skwisgaar got off the bed, annoyed. “Who ams it? Dis amsnt funnies.”

“Skwisgaar!” Toki tried to hand his shirt back at him but Skwisgaar wasn’t listening, grabbing his guitar resting against the wall instead. 

“Betters not be any dildos fans!” He said, wielding the instrument as if it were a sword. In a way, it made sense that the one that would turn Skwisgaar violent was being interrupted from having action. “Wells?” Upon meeting no answer, he disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

“W-Waits!” Toki tried to follow him, but something was in the corner of his eye. 

He turned and saw the silhouette of a big, tall man. He was wearing a hockey mask, strands of straight white hair coming out of the sides of his face. His skin was pale like a dead man’s and there was a red glow coming out of his eyes, piercing through Toki.

“Skwisgaars!” Toki yelled in horror, too frozen to move.

Hurried steps came back into the room and Skwisgaar appeared again. “Whats?”

“L…Looks!” Toki pointed at the window, only to see there was nothing now. “Whats?! I-I swears…dere was ams…scaries mans…”

Thankfully, Skwisgaar didn’t doubt him, walking to his side instead. “Dis places ams givinks de creeps.”

Toki nodded, looking out of the window in disbelief still.

Where the hell did they get themselves into? 

[vivicheri]

hello idk if requests are open but if they are could you write a fic of toki comforting the reader when they are feeling sad/a little depressed? i feel like he would be so sweet 😭

Of course! Toki is my favorite of the boys so I’d be happy to :>

A Rainy Day - Toki Wartooth (MTL) x Reader

Sometimes, life just gets difficult. In big or small ways, you felt it all at once. Your hands traced the patterns of your bedsheets mindlessly, tears springing into your eyes. It’s been about two years since you took the Klokateer job, and homesickness was hitting you hard.

It felt like everybody forgot about you. Your family, your friends, your loved ones; it’s like they didn’t know you anymore, and only a select few made an effort to talk to you. But, it’s not like you were ungrateful.

This job paid well, and not only by income. You got your own room, had plenty of exercise, and you loved the band before you got to know them personally. So of course, you developed some strong bonds with the band members. Pickles was always fun to hang out with, although he was super reckless; Murderface was great to mess with; although Toki was definitely the one you bonded with the most.

Thinking about all of this made your head spin, and you had to fight back sobs and blink back tears. But suddenly, you hear a knock at your door. After a little bit, the door swings open, much to your surprise, and a mess of metal and brunette hair walks through. That’s right, Toki Wartooth had a big smile on his face as he saw you, not noticing your expression at first. He always loved coming over to see you, because you were definitely a favorite.

“Hellos y/n! Do you wants to..”

Toki pauses, getting a good look at your face. His smile fades and his brows furrow, walking closer to you with concern.

“Oh noes! Are you okays?” He sits on the bed next to you, watching your body movements.

You take a second to respond, your voice caught in your throat. The suppressed tears were not helping, and something inside you just began to unwind. Tears start to run down your cheeks, looking at Toki.

“I.. I’m fine, Toki.” You mumble, sniffling softly.

You were never good at lying, so Toki saw right through that. He cupped your face in his hand, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He’s usually pretty touchy, and so he scoots closer to you.

“Cmons, you can always tells Toki. I wouldsnt tell anybodys! I promise, y/n.” He smiles softly at you, kissing your forehead.

You take a deep breath. You know that you can trust him, but it doesn’t make the depression any less difficult to talk about. Finally, you tell him everything that’s upsetting you. Toki just nods and listens, not keeping his eyes off of you. You go on and on about everything for what seems like hours, but in reality it was about 15 minutes. After you finish, sobs are breaking free from your throat, tears dripping down on your shirt.

In response to this, Toki wraps his arms around you, lifting you up slightly so your head is on his chest. He’s like a protective mama bear, and he knows exactly how you feel.

“Shh.. it ams okay.. I’m heres for you.” He whispers softly, his hand caressing your hair delicately. He always viewed you like precious cargo, and his heart hurt to know that you were hurting. You both stay in this position for a while, tears starting to get on his shirt. Rain was pattering against the side of mordhaus, and the noise was helping to soothe you. The sobs subside, but the tears don’t.

You finally lift your head off of his chest, chuckling softly.

“Sorry, I think I got some of my tears on your shirt.” You smile at him, forever grateful that you had someone to care about you like he did. As a token of appreciation, you lean in and kiss his cheek.

The guitarist’s face turns a bright shade of pink, smiling down at you once again. You return the smile, and your tears finally come to a stop.

“You ams so strong. I’m so proud of yous for getting throughs this.” He hugs you again, before he gets up and extends a hand to you.

“Wanna make some sugars-free cookies with mes, y/n?”

You take his hand, and he helps you off of your bed.

“Yes, as long as we can watch some movies after.” You respond, a little more cheerful than before.

Toki’s eyes shine in the light of your lamp, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

“It’s a deals!”

You both eventually make it to the Mordhaus living room, and you help make some sugar-free cookies with him. This took your mind off of everything, and it felt so nice that somebody actually listened to you, instead of just offering practical solutions. The cookies come out of the oven, and you both bundle up on the couch, watching some comfort movies together. You both kept looking at each other, your hearts pounding in sync. This was definitely the best way to ward off sadness; watching comfort movies in the arms of somebody who truly loves you, and you truly love back. Your foreheads are pressed together intimately, and you share a little kiss before going back to watch the movie.

I TRIED AUGHH I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <3

[ir0n-moon]

Army of the Doomstar spoilers.

I wrote all this for post-AOTD fanfic purposes. You can totally disagree and go in an entirely different direction for your own, of course. Go nuts.

Been thinking about the klokateers post-AOTD. We don't see any of them during the final battle, iirc. Just regular people, no hoods.

I think it kind of mirrors the season 1 finale where the army of Klokateers battle against Crozier's army while the boys are unconscious. Except this time during AOTD we can clearly see it's a diverse group of people from all walks of life.

Obviously this (+ Nathan's speech at the end) is a representation of the band coming to view their fans and employees as real people with real lives, and not just a matched set of disposable minions.

However I'm curious if 1. There's any Klokateers left in the world at all, 2. Will there be people willing to join the ranks of Dethklok again, and 3. If so, how different life as a Klokateer might be after the Metalocalypse.

So for no. 1, I do think there's still Klokateers out there. Sure, the "official" Army of the Doomstar was killed by Salacia & co., but I don't think Mordhaus was destroyed (the boys return to an intact home after the Aortic Desecration cataclysm, iirc). I'm willing to bet their regular staff must still be there. They might only be a fraction left of the millions they once were, but they remain as loyal as ever. They might have in fact been present during the final battle, simply not in uniform for storytelling purposes.

Number two. It all depends on what Dethklok will do post-Metalocalypse. I like the open world of possibilities the ending left us with. We don't know if they'll continue to make music, we don't know if they'll retire, I think the only thing we can say for sure is that they will remain together. So they could totally return to Mordhaus. Or they could downsize if they see fit. They've reached a... slight level of maturity after the events of AOTD. Perhaps this could mean them realizing that while they like their luxury just fine, they don't actually need that many rooms and fancy gadgets they once demanded on a whim.

So they might still need employees. And I'm sure plenty of people would be willing to work for them. They're the saviors of the entire planet, after all. But life as a post-apocalypse Klokateer might be very different than it was before. Which brings me to number three.

If post-AOTD Dethklok is really willing to continue learning and changing their ways, I doubt they'd continue to enjoy witnessing their employees' inhumane living conditions, no matter how "brutal" they think it is. People *might* be willing to live under such conditions for them, mind you! But I want to have faith in the boys and believe that they'd now fully interiorize how wrong that is.

After Salacia's been defeated, after the apocalypse has been mostly averted, there's no need for their employees to sacrifice their wellbeing, no matter how devoted they might be to their bosses. There's no need for them to go through a deadly hiring process. There's no need for Dethklok to continue being the meat grinder their Klokateers willingly enter into, knowing they won't make it out in one piece.

Post-AOTD Klokateers could just be regular employees, if only the kind to sport a wacky uniform and be proud of it. There'd be no need for them to be as many as there once was. Just enough to keep Dethklok safe (they'd still need bodyguards, after all), do their jobs as roadies and sound technicians, and regular everyday staff who keep the band's home running smoothly. Whether that's Mordhaus or anywhere else.

[medivigor]

DETHTERROR (Metalocalypse)

Word count- 3199

Type- oneshot

The night was cold. Charles sat at his desk as the band had finally gone to bed for the night after a day of binge partying for the fifth time of the week. A slight silence filled the office as he glanced up at the wall towards his fencing trophy. His eyes narrowed. 

‘You fence?’ A memory, as the voice of Melmord Fjordslorn projected itself into his mind. 

‘In college.’ His voice replied a light glance over to his wine cabinet as he grabbed a glass of wine and poured himself a drink. Slowly filling the wine glass with the sweet alcohol. Taking a swig as the voices seemed to stop. 

Silence once again as he shook his head.’ I'm sorry about Melmord, Guys. Turns out he was a paedophile!’ 

Charles lightly sneered slightly as he looked in the mirror. His eyes looked dark as if he hadn't slept right in days. Probably because he truly didn't. 

“Why am I thinking about him? He's been dead for five months..” Charles rubs the bridge of his nose with a twinge of annoyance. Till a shutter went down his spine.  Involuntary as he looked himself in a mirror. Studying his looks closely till he froze in place. 

Was that..movement? 

He kept his usual denor As he turned around to face the room. His eyes wandered the room. Feeling like he was being watched. It made him feel…strange.. the scent of weed wafting through the air. 

“Mm..” 

He paid no mind to it. In his mind logically the band always smoked weed and other various drugs to keep themselves going. So he figured it was one of them. He needed rest and he needed it bad. It was almost three am and all of the Klokateer's had vacated Mordhaus to let the masters rest. As well as him. So he took that time to make his way to his chambers. His room is just next to his office by a side door. Connected perfectly as he would remove his suit jacket before putting it up on a coat hanger. 

It was late. He needed sleep. He decided to skip the routine shower and make his way to his bed. Fine linen and soft comfy pillow to lay on. It sounded nice as the work train buzzed into Mordhaus after the clock finally struck three. A sigh left his lips as he slipped into his pyjamas and slipped under the covers. His eyes lightly shut to the sweet silence that coated his room.

‘Thud’

His eyes shoot open. His eyes wander the dark room. He realised he fell asleep with his glasses on as he looked over to the alarm clock that was shaped like Mordhaus up and down to see it was five am. Only two hours of sleep and something woke him up from his office. 

The clown again? Or perhaps- he took a moment to grab one of his emergency pistols from under his bed. His eyes narrowed as he slowly approached the door. Opening it he saw not one. Nothing but the wall plaque that held his fencing shield and swords. His eyes widened slightly. 

The plaque was nailed to the wall. He could see it was ripped free from the spot with force. The smell of weed returning as Charles furrowed his brows and streighted his gaze once more. 

Till A knock on his door interfered with his thoughts. Holding his gun he opened the door a crack to see who it was. 

“Sir?” A Klokateer with a suit stared back at him.

“Yes?”

“Aren't you alright? I heard something fall.” 

Charles’ gaze remained firm and unmoving.” I'm fine. Trophy just fell over.”

“Would you like me to clean it up for you, Sir?” 

Charles shook his head casually as he glanced at the plaque then to the assistant.” I'll handle it. You're dismissed.” 

“Sir.” Without another word the assistant took his leave and left Offdensen alone. He took the time to pick up the broken plaque off the floor and examine the fine wood around it. 

He cursed. 

Chipped at the end and roughly warped from its heavy landing. He was going to have to go and get one of the Klokateer's to fix it. But that could wait. He placed the trophy on his desk for the morning and clambered his way back into bed. The claustrophobic room gives him an odd Sense of comfort to a man consumed by consistent duties. 

He tossed and turned. His night seemingly restless and very meddlesome. His eyes couldn't let him drift to sleep. His mind is too active for him to properly pass out. A night's worth of sleep was gone before he even knew it. The alarm clock played a metal song screaming in his ear as he rolled over to slap the alarm off and put his glasses on.  

He couldn't naturally explain it but it felt as though someone was watching him in his sleep. Intensely. He can feel that shiver run down his spine as he would get dressed. He's never felt this paranoid. This is uneasy in Mordhaus, ever. 

Since it was built it was the most secure place. Impossible to infiltrate and sneak Into. But this felt so much different than any regular infiltration. This felt personal. 

As Charles brushed his teeth he would occasionally look over his shoulder. See something move out of the corner of his eyes and feel a cold breeze on the back of his neck with the wafting of weed. It reminded Charles of Melmord too much. And that made him shiver. He wasn't scared. He was just a bit unsettled by this. 

A knock at his office door caught his attention as his assistant entered with his usual requested straight black coffee in his hand in a mug. He's been cold since he woke up. So he gratefully took themig and downed a gulp of the coffee and placed it on a coaster before taking his trophy and handed it to his assistant.

“Do me a favour. And take this to the wood shop  and get anemone made for me.”

The Klokateer looks at it then nods.” Sir.”

Charles shuts the door behind the Klokateer and then took a seat behind his desk to pull up a computer. A desk top of him and the band was no longer there. But changed to a background of the Mordland train coming head first at him. He blinked. Shutting his eyes as the sound of a rolling train barreling at high speeds towards him filled his ears. Till he opened his eyes. 

Nothing. The desktop returned to its original background as he took a shaky breath. Taking another sip of his coffee. 

He spent the morning checking his emails and answering a few business calls that went on for about an hour each. His calls were occasionally interrupted by some unexpected event that would startle him. First the wind. Now it felt like he was being touched. But chalked it up to be some sort of coincidence. Then there was the meeting. 

Skwisgaar sat in his usual spot along with everyone else. Playing his guitar while toki was texting on his phone and Nathan and pickles were indulging each other with some banter while murderface sat sulking in his own self hatred towards everything around him.

Charles however expressed unease that Nathan immediately took notice of. 

“Woah Charles.” Nathan started. Interrupting his conversation as he studied his expression. As stoic as it looked he could feel something was off. He was looking off into the distance without so much a word as he followed his gaze to an empty corner. The others are doing the same as Nathan finally spoke once more to finish his sentence.” You look uh…” 

“Like shit dood.” Pickles chimed in as Charled nonchalantly fixed his glasses. There were clear signs of dark circles under his eyes due to his lack of sleep. 

“Well uh..it's nothing a bit of coffee and an engaging job can't fix.” He said as he tapped files against the table. Fixing them into place as he placed them neatly in front of him. His look about the room made him feel uneasy. The staring made him feel like he was a fish in a fish bowl. Till he casually cleared his throat.” Now that I have your attention we can begin. Nathan. Do you have anything on the plate for the uh..Halloween themed concert?” 

“Hell yeah we do!” Murderface Slammed his fists on the table.

“We's gots the bests plans for the Hollows weens.” Skwisgaar said with a smile as he looked Charles in the eye.”Gets the real bloods and insides brother's Klokateers in garbage shoots and spray the Fans withs it!” 

“Ams gonna dress ups to!” 

“You..want to wear costumes?” Charles asked as everyone nodded in unison.” Well..what are you all..going to wear?”

“Ams goings to dress ups as drokulas!” Skwisgaar said as Toki bounced with excitement.

“Ams goings to be Cool's zombies! Looks like ams run over by thes trains!” 

Murderface cleared his throat. Casually crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair, his tone brimming with confidence.  “Yeah I'm gonna be a werewolf. Becauch werewolvch are fuckin aweschum.” 

“I'm goin as Eddie Van Halen.” Pickles smirked. 

“But why?” Nathan asked as Pickles pointed his drum sticks at him. 

“Hey! Don't fuck with a master of heavy metal alright?” 

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Jesus alright..I'm going as Jason from Friday the thirteenth. Because Jason Voorhees is brutal as fuck.”

“Classics monsters!” Toki clapped his hands as Skwisgaar looked at Pickles. 

“Ja. Yets Pickle ams only ones to be masters of the metals.” 

“Yeah Picklech! Why the hell are you not scary, you dildo licker!” 

Pickles threw his arms up in disgust. “Fuck you! I love Eddie Van Halen you dicks! Fuck fine. I'll be somethin else! What the hell do YOU think I should be!?” 

“Oh! Oh! Toki knows!” Toki bounced in his hair as he pointed at him. “ Freddys Krugers! Freddy!!” 

“Fuck fine. I just need to be able to play the drums for the damn concert alright!?” 

“That's doable! I…think- What about you Charles?”

Charles firmly shook his head in disapproval towards their question.

“I'm not one to celebrate Halloween. I'm rather..old for it.”

“Bullschit!” Murderface blurted out as he looked at Charles.” You're never too fuckin old for Halloween! Itsch Like a Jewish holiday..” 

“Murderface i don't think that truly correlates with thi-” 

“He's right Charles!” Pickles blurted as he crossed his arms.”It's like America without the civil war!” 

Murderface gasped.”You did not juchst schay that Picklsch..”

Charles cleared his throat. “Boy's I believe it's also time to discuss the next album. Nathan. Do you have anything done for the record?” 

Nothing. Not even a word. 

“Is anything done for at least a new song?” He asked as he gave a rather firm smirk on his lips. 

“Do I ever! It's called ‘I am the Beast’!!” His voice a low rumble as he spoke.” Also got one though it might be a scrap like half a dozen other songs. But we were going to play that one at the concert..” 

Charles nods towards Nathan.” You have at least went through with it with Knubbler. Correct?” 

“Duhh! Of coursch we did!” Murderface waved his hand nonchalantly.”We're way ahead of you on that Charlesch itsch fine!” 

“Well if you Boys believe You're ready for the concert.” 

“Dood. We were fuckin born ready. Candy for days! We're lookin’ at candy mountains.”

As the meeting ended. Charles stayed behind. taking a minute to himself as the lingering sensation of someone watching him remained. He looked at the table to see that Toki had left his phone behind. He'd come back to get it no doubt.

He approached the window. His eyes pinned on the reflective surface. His reflection staring back at him. He couldn't see it. At first. But there was a flicker of movement behind him. His eyes widened. Toki's phone flew at him. His heart dropped as well as his body as the phone's sharp edge dug into the glass. Sticking it there. His eyes wandered upwards. To see who had done it. Only to see..

No one? Nothing was there. This wasn't right. 

“Charlie…” His face paled. That voice.”Filthy Charles…”

“Melmord..?” 

A faint vision in the reflection revealed a pale figure. Wearing those same clothes. But his body was translucent. Body mangled. His face was the only thing that was practically intact as his reflection stared back at Charles. 

Yet when he turned around. He wasn't there. 

Charles being Charles merely chalked it up to no sleep. He also Tried to rationally explain what happened but his mind was unable to. The phone put a hole in the window, it was thrown so hard. He knew something was up at this point. And he didn't like it. 

That night he was walking down the corridors where the fencing plaques were hanging. Where Melmord's end started. He looked at the space where the missing sword was and then to the left of him where his sword was returned to its rightful spot after the ordeal. 

“You fucked me pretty good,old man..” the voice rang out. His eyes wide as he turned to look down the corridor behind him. And there he stood. His body pale, almost translucent to where he could see the rest of the corridor stretch through his abdomen. His eyes a glowing yellowish brown as he held that same smug smirk he'd wear. Though he didn't look as mangled as he was before. He looked intact but dead. 

“Ho-”

“How? Call it..’Unfinished business’.” the spirit hissed in a state of wrathful disgust. His body seemed to shimmer and distort with his anger.” Is it easy to say I want you to suffer for this? Sure. But that would be too easy. No. I want to ruin you. For taking me away from people who cared. Who gave a fuck!” 

Every time the spirit yelled Melmord's Body would shake and shutter as if his apparition was expressing his anger in a much different way. The way its fists clenched and rage contorted On his face. It made Charles step back to gain some distance between him and Melmord.

Charles didn't remember him talking this much. He was always a quiet man around him. So he supposed that being violently thrown from the top of Mordhaus onto the Mordland train tracks then ran over would piss anyone off. But now he was paying the price for killing him. For what? Defending himself? Charles stood his ground. Fixing his tie he cleared his throat.

“Yes well who, Ah..tried to kill me first?” He asked as he blinked. Melmord's form Was now inches from his face as he tried to step back only for Melmord's translucent hands to grab his shirt. His hairs stood up on emd from the coldness of the other's presence. It sent a physical shiver up his body the longer Melmord held him there. 

“You're gonna give me that shit?” He asked with a slight sarcastic smirk on his lips as his cold tone made Charles stiffen.” You challenged me the moment you told me that I was going to have to kill you. Funny thing. I didn't even want you dead.” His grip on his suit tightened to the point Charles could physically feel himself being lifted off the ground. 

“And you're delusional enough to believe that was a valid argument. You were a lawyer. Much like myself. You should know the difference between threats and challenges.” Charles said. Which only regarded a strong tug from Melmord. 

“Do you know what it was like to be physically ripped to pieces by a train, Charlie? Not pleasant in the slightest bit..” He hissed. With such ungodly strength he threw Charles into the wall. His eyes shoot open in pain as his back hits the wall at a high speed. Making him slide to the ground with an audible ‘thud’. 

“What exactly do you want from me.?”

“Simple.” Melmord sneered as he spoke. His body shaking as he slowly transformed into a dark smirk.” I'm taking my life back.” 

Pickles dressed up looked as though hissing was burned to hell. Wearing a glove made from real knives at the back stage with a large sweater to match the fictional character Freddy Kruger. 

Skwisgaar Dressed in a old Victorian style garb dressed more like Alucard than Dracula but no one cared to really correct him on that. 

Murderface had his shirt off with fake pieces of fur covering his arms and chest. onlu wearing his pants and boots as he sat there playing the bass casually as they waited. 

Toki looked like a zombie. professional makeup making him look as though he was physically destroyed by something. A big bite marks on his neck from what one could only assume to be a zombie. Wearing his usual clothing on top of it. 

Then there was Nathan. Wearing his Jason Voorhees attire his mask covering his face as he crossed his arms.

“Alright where the hellis Charles!?” Pickles chimed in. Breaking the silence between the group as he crossed his arms. 

“Yeah. He's usually here to greet us. The hell happened?” Nathan asked as Murderface made a funny noise with his mouth.

“Pffft oh common guysch.Hecsch fine! Don't worry about little old Charlech.” 

“Looking fo Me?” Everyone looked over to Charles. A joint in his hands as he seemed to dress differently than usual. His hair was slightly messy. His eyes had a different hue. But the boys smiled in unison at this change.  A change that made them itch with excitement as Charles gave a lazy smile as he took a hit of his joint.” It feels good to smoke this shit again..”

“Holy shit Charles! I didn't think you smoked weed!” Pickles hummed. 

A sly smile formed on his lips as he chuckled.” Trust me. There's a lot you don't know about me, Pickles. Now go out there and, ah..knock them dead.” 

“Fullys intkends on it Charles!” Skwisgaar said as he nodded in approval. Holding his thunder horse to his side as he nudges Pickles who was getting ready on his drums.” Ams likings this changes, ja Pickles?”

Nathan smiles. “Gotta agree. You seem different. Less uptight. Not as much of a douche.” 

Charles smirked. His eyes shut lightly after expelling another wave of smoke from his lips. “You'd be surprised. Sometimes a little change is all that's needed.” 

As the band went up Charles approached the makeup mirror. The reflection didn't match. But it was Melmord's reflection staring back at him on the reflective surface. Wearing that fine leather jacket he so happened to find with a white undershirt and jeans. The only pair of ‘casual wear’ Charles owned. 

The chimes of Pickles drums muffled by the insolation in the area made Melmord slirk. Oh how he hated Charles. But it was thanks to him..

He now ran Dethklok as he always wanted..

[you-are-forever-special]

In A Pickle

|| I was going to do a short and silly drabble mostly, for the first day of Kloktober.

But then my idea turned into a long second chapter for 'I Am Your Mother's Keeper'

(https://www.tumblr.com/you-are-forever-special/725712642914893824/i-am-your-mothers-keeper?source=share)

I guess I'm writing this like Taiga's OG story and hopping around to different timelines repeatedly!

LOL

(Also, omg, hi, it's my first Kloktober! ☆)

As always, I'm open to any feedback!

Prompt: favorite character or OTP

I went with favorite character.

Cucumb-

I mean, Pickles!!!

It's quite a read-through, but the adventures with him eventually do ensue. --ohheythatrhymed--

I promise.

🤣

Thank you so much~!

♡ ||

------

It was now a few months since Taiga had been a new addition to Mordhaus.

Around the end of the first month, she had officially made the move into Mordhaus and entrusted her cottage back home in Minnesota to her trusted best friend, and former roommate Markus. He had never been a fan of her going off to work for anyone even associated with Dethklok, especially after learning about the incident that preceded her new position back then.

It was explained to him not long after he returned home.

But he also still never tried to control her, or dictate what Taiga did in life.

They were similar in those areas.

She understood his concern. Truly. And she appreciated it, along with all the years of care.

Taiga tried to ease his worries, saying she'd try her best to be careful and use her best judgement.

But this was just something she had to do.

Markus understood why Taiga wanted to go, despite any of her own worries.

He made sure to always try and be available regardless. By phone or otherwise. And that comforted Taiga in the back of her mind whenever she felt lonely. She did exactly the same.

It had been a big shift.

And it was all still so new, plus borderline overwhelming, yet things weren't necessarily horrible.

The room Taiga now had was not really decorated.

All she had was her luggage, her laptop out on her bed, and her daily essentials neatly placed on her dresser, as well as in the bathroom.

The only other thing that gave her room a little personality was her Vodou doll on one of the bedside tables she had, along with the stuffed folder, filled with each file given to her from Charles, that had her name on it.

As Taiga looked at them, she remembered when she got the final ones on her first day here.

And how she was basically given a briefing.

It was a lot more to take in, but it was needed.

Charles had made sure, multiple times, to drive home the point of being extremely careful about Toki's fear of bicentennial coins.

Taiga made sure to not forget that detail, but she dared not ask why he was afraid of them, or even why Charles himself seemed so fervent about this.

Despite his usual put together appearance, his piercing eyes told her that it'd be in her own best interest to keep this in mind.

'...That whole day had been such a blur...'

Taiga thought as she silently glanced around more.

It didn't really bother her how mostly barren her room was, because she didn't exactly see a need as of yet, especially since she packed relatively light, everything could easily be found.

And thankfully, she had all she needed.

The only things that she ended up needing brought in/ordered were for Aksel.

Yes, she was honored to care for him and make sure that his habitat was properly coming together. Which it thankfully was.

But it was quite the responsibility making sure the cougar cub was properly taken care of in the new space designated for him within Mordhaus until the construction was completely finished, along with trying to manage some of the apparent regular antics that happened around here.

Taiga never once outwardly complained, though.

However... Inside her mind, it was another story.

She still felt a bit unsure on how to feel around Dethklok; the band as a whole.

Taiga was wary at times, but tried to move on and not hold resentment, or be so standoffish.

She didn't want to judge Toki or anyone else unfairly for what happened the night they all met.

Adrenaline was running high.

Choices were made.

And ultimately, the consequences had to be dealt with.

She'd never excuse the bad behavior.

But still at least tried to make an effort to be open-minded and understanding of these individuals. Even if they may not ever do the same.

They didn't seem to really mind her presence overall. And were still intrigued by her appearance at most.

At least she was able to set things up to where her therapist could still meet with her online, which certainly helped.

Everyone in Mordhaus at the start were either strangers or leveled up to be acquaintances at most.

The one person she felt the most trusting of at the beginning, in a strange way, was Charles. But that was mostly because he had set up everything for her in the first place.

And she still managed to thank him wholeheartedly, even after he let her stay in this castle.

Taiga always tried to give thanks where it was due.

But she also didn't want to feel like she was being annoying and kissing ass, so she eventually stopped after a while.

Any form of gratitude sent his way continuously took Charles by surprise, even if he didn't outwardly show it.

But even if he didn't state it, it was welcomed.

It still floored her and it all felt surreal just thinking about it.

She was actually living here in Mordhaus now.

All the way out in

***INFORMATION REDACTED***

Taiga couldn't help but feel like a nuisance around here.

She was truly taken aback for what Charles was doing. Especially when he didn't even have to.

Of course...

Taiga figured Charles had only been doing all this because it either was beneficial, in this case, for basically everyone involved, cost-effective/practicality-wise...

(Like with the MNDA, and now the commuting costs being lowered.

It was why he suggested she just move here in the first place; less hassle from the back-and-forth transport. It made sense from either way Taiga looked at it.)

Or it just saved his skin in general, and he'd have one less irritable situation to fix.

Charles didn't know everything about the girl.

Yet.

But he was a good judge of character and figured this would be the best course of action for now.

But Taiga was still grateful.

The deal seemed more than fair still. She doesn't cause trouble, and make sure nothing bad happens to the men in the band while in her company, Taiga wouldn't have to deal with any fees, etc.

If Toki especially was happy in this situation, Charles didn't care.

He was the one who wanted Taiga for this in the first place, after all.

And for weeks she felt terrible even using the amenities, or like she owed Charles; needing to pay him back in some way.

But Taiga knew that she'd just have to suck it up and accept it, and didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Besides... Why let these things, especially the wonderful food made up by Jean-Pierre each day, go to waste?

She found that so far she enjoyed the short chats that happened every now and then with said man.

Each time Taiga roamed around Mordhaus, she would try to sneak around and go mostly unseen by any new individuals.

She thought that even if everyone here was under an oath or contract themselves, Taiga felt better safe than sorry; not wanting to possibly cause any form of headache for those that brought her here and be careful.

She was used to hiding anyway.

Despite that, she wasn't quite successful; accidentally bumping into Jean-Pierre around her first days here.

But it ended up working out for the better, because she got to make what was hopefully a new friend.

He was pretty interesting, but she didn't want to distract others from their jobs.

So she got out of his hair pretty quickly more often than not.

Speaking of interesting...

The Klokateers.

Taiga would be lying if she said she wasn't curious about them all. Who they were as individuals. Where they came from. Their stories overall. But around here, they just seemed to be treated like numbers most of the time.

She could understand why. After everything she'd heard about, and the little she'd already seen, even without going to the forbidden areas in the files given to her before coming here.

Those waivers were no joke.

Curiosity would not kill this cat.

But Taiga still tried her best at her duties.

Despite any mischief the boys got into, or the distractions that arose while tending to the habitat being built/caring for the cub in general, she found a bit of a... Peaceful rhythm.

But they didn't act like she was irksome to them or anything, which she was grateful for as well.

Although, with Murderface, he decided to make it a habit to incessantly try poking fun or messing with Taiga whenever he felt the need.

Apparently, her reactions were "funny as fuck."

And sometimes he wasn't the only one.

However, Murderface seemed to know the most how to easily get under Taiga's skin.

Usually she was extremely patient, but he pushed her.

Which just egged him on, so she tried her best to act unphased about it.

But still...

She didn't want to butt in their business if it wasn't necessary especially.

They barely knew each other.

It wasn't her place.

Although... If they needed or wanted a friend, or just someone at all, she'd try and be there, but otherwise, she'd leave them be.

Taiga was a realist. But even she needed to try and be positive at times.

If not for others, for herself

'Besides, who knew what the future might hold...'

She would think to herself.

Taiga was almost impressed at the start, with how much they didn't care most of the time. Or at least, how they seemed to.

And since she had gotten more acquainted with each of them, despite everything, Taiga could see whenever the veil of the personas they've formed to stay "brutal" would slip and their true selves would show.

The rare acts of kindness, their struggles, their passions.

She may be slow at times, but Taiga wasn't stupid.

She noticed.

They all might not exactly be "friends" still.

But whatever one would call it...

Sometimes it felt...

Nice.

Toki and Pickles were definitely still the most outgoing towards her.

But she could tell that even if they all didn't act "warm" in similar ways, it didn't mean that they didn't care at all.

And it didn't appear that they disliked her.

But she couldn't read minds, after all.

Regardless, she continued to try and give the boys the benefit of the doubt, more often than not.

And even if things got chaotic, she could sometimes laugh about it when looking back; relieved that she could at least be helpful in keeping an eye out in a way.

----

Right now though, she wasn't finding the humor in her current situation.

'I really should bring Ibuprofen with me or something...'

Taiga sighed.

Too late now.

She was already out.

'How did I get here, again?'

Is what Taiga thought as she tried to massage her temples for what felt like the billionth time.

Ah.

Right.

The boys who made up the infamous band Dethklok had dragged her along once again to go have an adventure.

It had become a habit whenever they were bored especially, and would have Taiga try this, or drink that, etc.

//It all started when Toki invited her to come with him for one of their mini parties that took place in their lounge area.

There weren't really complaints, as they were all still pretty much getting used to Taiga's presence being a common occurrence, but she understood when they were making an attempt at gauging her reactions to everything.

At first, they tiptoed around the subject of why she looked the way she did, until Pickles eventually took it upon himself to ask.

It caught her off-guard.

But she actually preferred him asking rather than them all just standing around awkwardly.

Taiga knew they wanted to say something, but wouldn't spit it out.

It had been a long time since she had explained the sordid story to others.

She just talked about the experiments that she went through as a child and left it at that.

Taiga didn't lie, but didn't feel like being possibly teased for the other reasons why.

She wasn't ashamed of the truth, or Avis; any of that.

But she just didn't have the energy to deal with that right now.

It already took a while to tell this much.

Pickles was staring at her like everyone else, but had a more pensive expression on his face as he rested his chin on his balled fist, before it turned into a look of confusion.

"...So, how are you naht actually a cat, again?"

Taiga deadpanned.

Then Nathan pulled out his tape recorder, saying: "Anatomical Violation"

Which she now recognized as him saving song name ideas...

Before Toki started talking about how he wished that he could be tested on like that so he could have cat ears too.

And Taiga was close to banging her head off a wall after that.

Oh well.

It was pretty insensitive the more it went on, but at least they seemed to listen for a short time before they continued drinking.

Although, it was never brought up again.

Part of her wondered if they even remembered the conversation.

Sometimes she felt almost like some science experiment or circus freak that was there to cure their boredom, yet...

It did not exactly seem like it was ever intentionally malicious?

Which, she was used to from most others, however, she couldn't help but still get tired at times.

It was... Weird, but...

She'd take it if it meant some more dangerous shenanigans wouldn't take place.

The fact she would be held responsible and have to pay for anything bad that happened honestly didn't matter to her.

She just didn't want anyone to get hurt.

Taiga wasn't their babysitter or anything, but she'd feel such guilt...

A lot of the time going with them did help ease her mind, while also exasperating it.

And even if Taiga didn't always take part in the substances they consumed, it was appreciated that she never judged or scolded them.

They were grown-ups, after all.

And who would she be to try and tell them what to do?

Taiga would show concern and attempt to give friendly advice without seeming condescending, if it ever seemed to be getting out of hand, but never pushed it.

Overall, each of them were either pleasantly surprised and/or just impressed whenever she would join in.

Finding it funny but also awesome that she wasn't "stuck up" about it.

"Who woulda thought you would know how to have fun." Nathan stated more to himself rather than anyone else in particular.

As if he had already assumed that Taiga was a certain way and it actually baffled him that he was incorrect.

She honestly didn't mind parties and all...

Not that she'd really been to many in her time on this planet.

But she could respect the concept of letting loose and having a good time.

To a point.

Like whenever Taiga would be told to "Watch THIS!", her heart would almost stop from the wave of dread that would flow through her.

For example, the last time she heard that, Pickles had back-flipped off a roof while hammered before she could even try to talk him out of it.

Thankfully, he didn't get severely injured, since he landed in a dumpter that was filled with garbage bags...

But he definitely felt it in the morning.

In his head though, it was nothing more booze couldn't fix!

He'd say it was a success, because he didn't feel any more physical pain!

Another thing that added to her turmoil, was some of the pranks that were pulled on her over time as the guys got more comfortable around her.

Maybe too comfortable.

It could really get on Taiga's nerves.

From Murderface jumping out to scare her at random times during the day, or when they'd offer her Oreos that had the filling replaced with toothpaste.

Made her so fed up.

But somehow, she truly couldn't ever stay mad for long...//

---

This time, the boys wanted to barhop and see how many they could visit before puking or blacking out.

Taiga obviously tried to state how bad of an idea this was...

But they weren't having it and designated her as 'Official Counter', along as being the determiner for the winner, plus who lost first.

This city was known for its 56 bars, as she had come to find out from Pickles' recounting of some of his times in Wisconsin, and the rest of the guys immediately wanted to try it.

Taiga knew this would be a long night.

Taiga was thankful that they didn't try to get her to drink this time, even if it was just so she could be coherent enough for her new "job."

She sarcastically thought about how she should get an award for all these jobs falling into her lap.

Lucky her.

She wasn't taking this position that seriously, mostly just trying to watch out for them; ever ready to call Charles for assistance if needed.

Along with the files on her first day, Taiga was given his emergency line as well, in case anything happened.

And she had put it into her phone ASAP.

For the most part, she tried to stay off in the corners of the bars.

She had her hood up, hands in her pockets, and tail tucked away as best as possible under her large coat.

Taiga was always a bit surprised that she could still kind of hide her giant tail when needed, but it was a bit painful each time.

And the pain grew the longer it was tied up against her body.

But she tried to ignore it.

If anyone looked closely, they'd see her skin color more clearly, but she also tried not to worry about that too much.

She hung her head and looked over at the men every now and then.

They seemed to be having a blast.

Taiga was glad that it was winter, since it was easier, and less strenuous to hide her features, but it was still a struggle.

At least there was no one around, but Taiga still felt bad, because the only reason it was dead is because the guys had made the owners stay open longer.

To them it was no big deal, their reasoning being:

"We do it all the time."

And they had gotten so wasted once again that even Pickles ended up a mess.

Taiga knew this part also wasn't a first occurrence, but it was the first time she had to personally deal with it.

Eventually she lost track of how many bars they had been to at this point, but after Taiga yawned, she stopped as she realized something.

...Where was Pickles...?

The others were loudly chattering and had gone inside, but he was...

Wandering off into a cornfield.

Okay.

Taiga didn't want to get separated from the rest of the boys, but Pickles was getting further and further away by the second.

If she went inside, even for a minute, he could end up who knows where.

So she tried to act quick and just go after him for now.

Maybe he could easily be brought back.

Even if that was highly doubtful.

"Pickles!

Hey, wait a minute!!"

Taiga was glad that she wore layers under her fluffy coat, thick gloves, and insulated pants.

But still, it was almost February now in the "Malibu of the Midwest;" Sheboygan, Wisconsin.

The lake-effect did not help things, and she was a giant wimp against the cold, but she just tried to focus on continuing to move.

She tightened the straps on her coat as she ran off towards the red-head's slowly shrinking silhouette as he continued to stumble off further away into the cornfield.

For being plastered, he was fast-

WAS HE NARUTO RUNNING NOW!?!

Her trusty boots made specially for winter trudged along while she carefully went through the snow, and over the unshoveled areas across the street.

Taiga stumbled but made haste in climbing over the snowbank she approached, trying to keep up with the drummer.

She didn't fall despite her slip-ups, and soon caught up to him.

God, cornfields really were itchy.

But he seemed to be greatly enjoying the sensations past his fascination about something else entirely; frantically looking around with his iconic grin.

At least he also had some winter-ready clothes on, but that didn't ease her worries too much.

Her ears perked up more at hearing his mumbling before he belted out:

"I sworeee I saw en aaaaalien! Yeww caan't hide from me!"

Taiga noticed how much thicker the Wisconsinite's accent had gotten.

And she knew that he wasn't just drunk, but that was beside the point.

Pickles quickly tensed up and got in a fighting stance for a second when Taiga ran in front of him.

"D'OH-JYEEZUS."

Taiga was trying to catch her breath while she put her hands up to show she wasn't going to do anything; relieved to not have been decked in the face.

Her hood had fallen down while running after him and her hair was blowing a bit around her head.

The chilled air hit against her skin even more; the ghosts of their individual breaths dancing along until they took their final step into disappearance.

"Sorry, but...

You really need to come back with me, okay?"

His pupils were dilated and he looked like he was super amped up.

She tried to speak in a soft, soothing voice as an attempt to make him pay attention.

And Pickles smiled more.

She smiled back with a hope-filled expression.

Then he suddenly stepped forward and pulled over some of the hair cascading down the back of her head to cover her face like a mask instead, and he started snickering; not listening to a word Taiga had said.

This wouldn't be easy.

"...wuuoooah-hohohh~"

Pickles started laughing seeing this now.

He couldn't explain it even if he tried, but the colors and shapes coming from Taiga right now were insane.

And if he didn't already know her, he would have thought she was just a hallucination, like Toki almost did at first when meeting her.

Taiga put her arms back down and slightly huffed, talking past her hair now, until most of it inevitably blew out of her face.

"I'm serious."

"Nyeeehh, what's new?

Y'know... If I had anotherr pill, I would've given it to yah!"

As Taiga fixed her hair fully, Pickles' voice consistently raised in pitch as he hit the word "to."

He unceremoniously leaned over and rested his elbow on her shoulder as he slurred out, causing her knees to almost buckle, because he was putting most of his weight on her suddenly. He usually ate it up that he was no longer the shortest in the group now.

But Taiga grit her teeth as her eyes widened, and was able to keep herself upright.

For the most part.

"Hnng!"

Taiga frowned and was about to tell him to get off, but something else had gotten his attention and he quickly moved away.

"DERE HE IS!"

Taiga immediately went after him.

"You're going to get hypothermia or something, come on...!"

Taiga shivered and hugged herself.

They both might at this point.

She decided, screw it, and decided to call Charles to let him know what was going on, sooner rather than later.

No one was hurt, yet.

And she didn't want to take that chance as she continued to follow Pickles as he was hunting this so-called alien and doing a...

Chicken call?

Taiga refocused as Charles picked up, and after he answered, she sighed before explaining.

She felt so embarrassed as she spoke and ran a hand over her face, even though she knew that it wasn't her fault.

Taiga disclosed the name of the bar she remembered and their location, not knowing still about the trackers he had on each of the boys.

There was a pause and the line was silent for a bit after she finished.

She didn't even have to see his face to know he was most likely pinching his brow.

He didn't yell or anything, although she would have absolutely understood it in this situation...

But as Charles said he'd be on his way to get them Taiga was at least glad no one else would be lost, or worse.

Especially in the states that each of them were in.

He gave a terse thank you and finally told her to just continue keeping an eye on Pickles until he arrived.

Taiga was going to return the thanks but then the line suddenly cut.

She put her phone back into her coat pocket as they emerged from the cornfield on the opposite side.

Taiga was glad someone was coming to help, but that relief dissipated as she saw what Pickles was chasing an American woodcock.

It was running instead of flying away, which was strange, but then she noticed it had a busted wing.

Taiga narrowed her eyes and sprinted like a cheetah.

She took Pickles by surprise again as she passed him, and it gave her enough time to pick up the terrified bird and gently cradle him.

"STOP."

Taiga used her rare assertive, authoritative tone and held up a hand in front of Pickles.

He actually listened this time and didn't continue trying to catch the bird.

His eyes stayed wide as he look at them.

She calmed down and lowered her arm, along with her voice; not wanting the bird to go into shock or anything similar.

"...He's scared, and hurt. Just... Please, try to remember to be careful."

Taiga pitied the little one, but he seemed to slowly be calming down after realize he wasn't being hurt further by either of them.

He seemed to relax a bit under her touch, so she decided to test very gentle petting, making sure to not bother the hurt wing.

There was good news all around, and Taiga's face slightly brightened.

It seemed like a treatable injury, and the bird didn't freak out; settling down and just letting himself be held at this point.

Pickles looked like he wanted to pet the bird too.

Taiga noticed and softly sighed, still petting him very slowly.

"Here..."

She tried to speak in that soft, soothing voice again, once her head felt clear enough.

Taiga demonstrated how to pet the bird without causing further pain for him, now that she had some more of Pickles' attention.

He stepped closer and thankfully did exactly that, and the bird still seemed relatively calm.

Pickles' mouth hung open a little as his jaw dropped.

The ridiculousness of that look, as well as this situation in itself, almost made Taiga laugh but she held it back, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

It must have felt really cool for him, putting it lightly.

The longer Pickles looked into the bird's many eyes, the more drawn in he was.

His hand felt like it had melted and become one with the bird's body; the hues of their respective bodies bleeding into each other like spilled paint.

Taiga's smile faltered a bit as he started drooled.

"Ah..."

She almost didn't know what to do but just gently used the sleeve covering her free hand to gently wipe most of it away from his face.

Pickles' only response was a slow blink and he muttered again about it being an alien in disguise.

Taiga snorted a bit.

"It's actually an American woodcock."

He started wheezing with laughter at hearing that, having come back into this plane of existence for a second.

Taiga was confused at first and raised a brow, but then soon understood and rolled her eyes a little; giggling a tiny bit herself.

"You're impossible."

"...'n' yer alright."

Taiga was taken aback by that one, but cross-faded or not, that seemed genuine coming from him, and it made the smile on her face grow some more.

Soon though, Taiga saw flashlights in the distance and Pickles dove behind her once he noticed and spotted them too; using her as a shield because he thought it was an alien abduction.

Taiga was unimpressed and the pain and ringing in her ears hurt from his yelling so close to her head, but she decided to look past it and push through because she saw Charles was here with some Klokateers surrounding him.

Soon they all were around the three, and Pickles recognized Charles features, along with the hooded figures; calming down.

Charles saw the bird in Taiga's arms, but he didn't even ask as he just had them ushered to the Dethkopter.

She was still intimidated by this thing.

But this time, it looked like she was getting inside of it.

There was a growing ball of anxiety forming within the pit of her belly and growing up to her chest; permeating throughout her whole body.

But...

She tried to be brave as they got strapped in and given blankets, after their prolonged exposure to the elements.

Helicopters were... Pretty safe, right?

New experiences like this always triggered her type of Agoraphobia and that nervous energy caused her to shake a bit more.

But she just tried to relax, protect the bird in her arms, and brace herself as best as possible.

As the Dethkopter took off, it ended up being...

Not that bad, actually.

Taiga visibly relaxed and ended up really enjoying the experience.

She had heard that riding in a helicopter in general could feel similar to a rollercoaster, but...

She had never been on one before, so she couldn't make that comparison.

Taiga kept her ears lowered on instinct from the vibrations she felt, but to her delight, the space and design of this behemoth of a luxury helicopter meant she didn't need headphones, and even her sensitive ears weren't too bothered by any of the noises produced by it.

Charles stayed standing as he held onto the hand grip near the side opening of the aircraft; his jacket blowing in the wind.

His silence almost caused the anxiety to return, but then he had suddenly simply commended Taiga for her quick thinking.

She blinked.

She sure didn't expect that.

Taiga felt weird calling him Mr. Offdensen.

But "Charles" didn't feel appropriate either.

So, she just didn't use either as she sincerely spoke.

"...Thank you for your help."

Charles heard her but kept his eyes facing forward.

He would save the scolding for these men for later.

Not that he expected them to really listen to him, as per usual.

But...

It was all part of the job.

They both seemed pleased that none of the boys were harmed at the end of it overall.

And any hint of annoyance from his end was directed towards said group of men who were mostly passed out by now.

Besides Pickles who was currently staring at one of his locs that he held in a hand, like it was alive and telling him something mind-blowing.

Taiga spaced out; shaking her head and looking back down at her new bird friend after Pickles mumbled something about a tentacle and tried to high-five his own hair.

He would probably be on a wild trip for a long time.

How many animals would she end up having to take care of around these dudes...?

Taiga then turned her head to cover her nose by the faux fur lining on her coat and sneezed; feeling a tickle in her throat.

Oh, great.

--

Pickles and Taiga both ended up getting sick after everything was said and done.

However, Taiga didn't seem too bothered, even if she sure felt like crap at first.

Because even though her bird friend was now physically gone, she was at least able to keep him comfy and taken care of as much as possible in the meantime, until she had gotten in contact with a licensed wildlife rehabilitator as soon as they returned to Mordhaus.

She had to have a Klokateer meet with them outside of the grounds (the first time she asked for something that didn't have to do with the cub she attended to), for security reasons obviously, and she also didn't want to possibly get anyone else sick.

(Taiga obviously thanked them a bunch for their help; something they all weren't used to hearing especially.

But it was unthinkable to her to not thank them for their efforts. She couldn't even imagine what it was like to do the work they did.)

The wildlife rehabilitator was able to properly help out the little guy, and thankfully, she was updated that his wing was able to heal within a week, and he was able to be relocated.

It made feeling like death all the more worth it.

And she sent out nothing but the most positive of energies for the bird, hoping he had a wonderful rest of his life.

Once Toki was recovered from his own hangover and found out that Taiga had a cold, he was understanding and kind enough to tell her she didn't have to worry about her job's responsibilities until she was better.

She had still come out that day, wearing a mask and all bundled up, but honestly...

"You looks terrible!"

Taiga just tiredly stared at him before giving a half-hearted thumbs up in response.

At first, she was about to push herself to keep on going, but...

She genuinely could barely function in this moment.

And she left her notes out for everyone to use anyway.

It would actually be fine.

Her mind didn't battle her much today.

And Taiga was truly appreciative; croaking out a soft thank you as she headed back to her chambers, her movement akin to a zombie's, to rest up more.

However, she couldn't help herself whenever she got restless over more time and was still doing research about Zoological parks on her laptop while in bed.

Later on, Toki had paid a visit to her room, and after hearing Taiga's cracked voice telling him that he could come in, he opened the door and greeted her.

He said that he made something for her to help her feel better.

Taiga perked up a bit more in curiosity. He presented the soup that he made, it resting on a tray.

And she carefully took it.

It took everything within her to smile.

...She didn't know you could burn soup...

"Thank you... Toki.

That's very nice of you."

He beamed and wished her well, saying he wished he could stay longer but had an interview to get to.

Taiga wished him well too before he bid her farewell.

Although, she was honestly relieved that he didn't stay to watch her eat.

...

She tried a tiny bit.

Yup. That was a mistake.

It was like if someone had liquefied charred bits of bacon and... Even the vegetables were burnt, and were black.

What did he even do???

You know what, she didn't even want any answers.

The smell and taste attacked each and every one of her senses.

But hey, she didn't puke, so...

There's that.

It was sweet, but Taiga knew that she may actually get worse if she ate it.

So for now, she just set it aside.

-

It had been a slow week as the two recovered, but afterwards, Pickles and Taiga got back into the flow of things.

Her moreso than him work-wise.

Since a part of him liked being sick, because he could get much more attention...

He'd ham it up at times, with the poor Klokateers assigned to him those days, when actually starting to feel better...

But who's counting?

Eventually though, he did have to get up and actually into the studio again.

But as always, he ended up getting it done, and didn't disappoint.

Taiga took a page from Toki's book, and aside from the soup, she went to go see how Pickles was doing.

...Right after she figured out where exactly she was on the map she had of Mordhaus' layout.

It only had the areas she had clearance for visiting, but it was still a big help.

Pickles didn't open the door, and Taiga wondered if he was even in there.

But as if on cue, she heard footsteps and saw him coming closer near the end of the hallway.

He had his thumbs hooked in his pockets as he aimlessly moved along, looking bored out of his mind.

Taiga called his name as she approached and that got his attention.

Pickles grinned.

"Look who it is."

Taiga gave a friendly little smile.

"I just wanted to see if you were feeling alright. I heard you got sick too."

"...Comin' tah check on little ol' me?"

Pickles asked with a growing smirk; purposefully in a teasing tone.

Taiga deadpanned and crossed her arms.

Pickles chuckled at her reaction and stopped smirking, but kept the grin of course.

He'd almost look weirder without it by this point.

"Yeaah, I'm just fi-"

His stomach suddenly grumbled very loudly.

It was almost comical.

Actually, for Pickles, it for sure was.

He laughed hard.

"Okay den, besides da monster inside my stomach I didn't know about letting out war cries, I'm-"

Pickles' stomach kept grumbling.

"Dood, I'm tryin' to talk 'ere."

Now Taiga couldn't help but giggle herself.

Her eyes changing from her natural grays, to purple.

Pickles noticed and his own eyes lit up some more.

"Yer like a livin' mood ring or sumthin'!"

Taiga wasn't the only one to surprise others.

He was the only one to have noticed so far.

Or at least, acknowledge it out loud.

She giggled a bit more before calming down.

"Heh. I guess so. I've never gotten that before...

Hey, if you want, you can have this."

Taiga offered the candy bar she had tucked away in her pocket for later.

Pickles looked over the wrapper as she held it out, and didn't seem displeased. His teasing tone returned,

"If ya keep this up, I might think ya like me~"

Taiga just blinked then moved like she was about to open the wrapper; her normal bashfulness pretty much nonexistent right now.

"Maybe I'll just change my mind."

"'Ey, 'ey, 'ey!"

Pickles snatched the bar.

"I'm just jokin', calm down... Gahhhd."

Taiga was the one grinning now as she crossed her arms once again.

Her confidence had been slowly improving the longer she stayed here, and at times she would catch the boys off-guard especially.

It was honestly satisfying to be able to do so.

"Tryin' tah steal from the starvin' now. I see how it is, Kit Kat."

Taiga tsked and lowered her arms at the sudden silly nickname he got from the bar he held, starting to laugh a little.

"Speaking of, I don't even want to imagine how badly your stomach reacted after we got back home. But I am glad you're feeling better.

You were so sloshed!"

Pickles' grin grew as he raised a brow.

"Sloshed?"

Taiga sighed softly.

"You know what I mean."

Pickles snickered, not remembering much of the events that happened, but he did remember that Taiga saw him in that state for the first time, and was imagining how she must have felt.

Her reaction was probably priceless.

He refrained from teasing her further about it, for now, as a more important question came to mind.

"That reminds me, did ya see who lost first?

I have to bring it back up with da guys so we can talk prizes... And penalties."

Pickles got a more mischievous glint in his eyes as he dramatically clapped his hands and deviously rubbed them together.

Taiga shook her head, at both his question, and other statement.

"No, but...

You were definitely the last conscious one."

It honestly didn't surprise the girl, or him for that matter, but...

It still left her in awe how quickly he could bounce back or keep truckin'.

"Hah!"

Pickles' ego grew 3 times its size that day.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!"

He said in a slightly goofy voice as he unwrapped the chocolate bar and took a bite right out of the side, without breaking it.

"But chocolate is fine too."

He said with his mouth full; cheesing.

Now Taiga's stomach rumbled and she blushed lightly because of it.

She thought and then spoke up again.

"...Actually, that does sound really good right now."

The pair laughed together before heading off to the dining hall.

As they walked, Taiga told him about the soup Toki brought by for her a couple days back.

Leaving about the more...

Charred details of the crispy carcasses and filmed lining of tarlike substance covering the almost porridge consistency of what was supposed to be, what she could only think was bacon vegetable soup.

Taiga just kept thinking:

'It's the thought that counts.'

Pickles made a face and stopped in his tracks, which made Taiga pause herself and look at him curiously; tilting her head to the side some.

He began to pout and stared at the floor for a bit.

He thought Toki was a terrible cook. Was he holdin' out on him all this time??

Before Taiga could say anything, Pickles spoke up once again, in almost a whisper.

At first.

"...what da hell... He never gave me any soup! TOKI!"

As he snapped his head back up and stomped off in a hurry to go looking for the man instead of going to eat, Taiga thought that maybe she should have just kept that to herself.

[skwigelfskwisgaar]

"Hate me."

It was hard to forget what happened. As the star's Dethlights above them faded away and the sensation of Toki nearly collapsing as they touched the ground again consumed his thoughts, all he heard was sounds of silence.

Between freaking out over Abigail and Toki, the band had very little time to process what had occurred.

But as the adrenaline wore down, as they carefully came together in the Dethcopter to go back to Mordhaus, Skwisgaar noted they had boarded 3 people.

He went to see Abigail, who was being doted on by Nathan as Charles and a few Klokateers set her up with an IV and a gown to wear. He laid eyes on the 2nd room, and approached it.

Toki was there, unconscious with several lines hooked up and another to his chest. He went to sit down, next to him, and made sure to clean his nails, and gave his hands got a proper massage. Can't be second best if your hands aren't kept well. It ripped him to pieces to see his friend in such a state. He decdied to not dwell on it too much.

- - -

The 3rd and final room he approached a few hours later. He entered, and nearly choked when he saw who it was.

Magnus. And he was awake.

"I know why you're here."

"I's ... I seens dey boarded 3 people. Was curious."

"You here to show me pity?"

"Nej, I... I amnst heres for dat."

"Then what," spat out the other guitarist, "pray tell, are you her for, Skwigelf?" Skwisgaar returned the vitriolic question with a glare, icy and cold.

"Whys Toki?" This gave the older man pause. His one good eyes raked over Skwisgaar's features as if it was dawning on him that this question had a deeper meaning. His eyes squinted as he sat himself up properly on the bed more.

"Magnus, whys de fucks did you - "

"Because! Because he was the only one who didn't ..."

"He didn't know whats amns your stupids vedetta?"

"Who didn't fucking treat me like a washed up has-been!"

"Ands sos you trieds to kills him!?"

"No! I wanted you all to pay and - what the fuck!"

Skwisgaar hadn't even realized it, but he had taken 2 steps over to Magnus and began to grab at his shoulders and neck. Lanky hands gripped at him, weak and feeble. His hand grabbed hold on to Magnus' throat and squeezed lightly. His hand shook, anger and fury fueling him.

"Hates me," he hissed at Magnus, hand tight and shaking with restraint. "Takes your angers and hates me." Magnus' eyes widened as Skwisgaar tightened his grip. As if a realization dawned on him, he shook his head and Skwisgaar let go.

"Hates me. And if I hears you amns whats nears to Toki evers, I's personallies make shore you amnst able to scream for helps when I gets mine hands on you."

Magnus rubbed his neck and nodded.

"Jesus fuck man, sure. Whatever, it's not like I asked for -!"

"But you amns. And you amnst goingsk to takes it for granteds. Amns we clears?"

"Crystal." When Skwisgaar left, all he could think about was how he needed to return to Toki's room to make sure he was recovering or at least saw a familiar face once he woke.

[sourbat]

The Zit

Summary: During one fine afternoon, Nathan stumbles upon a sleeping Skwisgaar. 

Characters: Nathan, Skwisgaar and Abigail 

Rating: T for swearing and some gross out humor 

Nathan was mindlessly traversing the halls of Mordhaus, his attention far more engrossed with the half-consumed, family-sized bag of barbecue chips in his arm, when he came across a surprisingly loud snore echoing down his left. Recognizing the source almost immediately, Nathan changed course with the intent of playfully interrupting the scene. Though Mordhaus lacked any labels, Nathan knew these parts to be Skwisgaar’s, and after making a sharp turn left, saw the door leading to the room filled with crystal guitars. 

He passed the door covered with caution tapes and warning signs, following along the loud notes, grumbles and mumbles, and eventually coming across more familiar rooms that held even more of Skwisgaar’s ever growing collection of musical instruments, until finally reaching his unintended destination. 

Nathan quietly shoved a hand into the half-eaten bag while his lazy eyes drew to the slightly ajar door belonging to Skwisgaar’s bedroom. Lacking any thoughts, he stowed a few morsels into his mouth, chewed without any caution and proceeded forward.

“Hey, Skwis,” Nathan grunted through a busy mouth. “Hey, you’re really loud, oh.” 

Cast in the center of the room, on top of a messy bed piled high with bedsheets and misshapen pillows, was Skwisgaar. He was resting on his stomach (odd, Nathan noted), head turned to the side (ouch), and was dawning nothing more than a pair of (well-worn) briefs. His arms were splayed out, and at some point Skwisgaar had kicked his blankets aside, leaving his entire backside completely exposed. Translucent blue and white mountaintops consisting of vodka bottles and premade mixed drinks surrounded the man’s bed, and informed Nathan of everything he needed to know regarding what led to Skwisgaar so awkwardly posed on top of the bed. 

Still, Nathan couldn’t help but utter a mean snicker at the less than graceful depiction of his friend and, without bothering to wipe the crumbs off his fingers, he shoved a hand into his pocket to grab his dethphone. He grunted a pained “ow,” but managed to keep his gravelly voice contained so that Skwisgaar continued to press on undisturbed. Carefully, he aimed his camera and snapped a photo. 

He added a group and hit sent without pause. Just beside Skwisgaar’s pillow came a low buzz, but it wasn’t enough to stir the man from his alcohol induced sleep. 

Within moments the group chat lit up, and Nathan silently congratulated himself on a job well done as Pickles, Murderface and Toki sent hilarious replies and emotes at his gesture. He slowly made his way down the emotes and hilarious gifs. A giant thumbs up. Hell yeah. Crying smiley with head to to the side. That’s always a good sign. 

Then, a message from Pickles. 

Do somethin ‘bout dat zit. 1:45PM 

Zit? Nathan glanced off the screen and at Skwisgaar’s face. His peaceful expression yielded no unsightly blemishes, save for a crusty trail of dried drool trailing down his face and into the damp pillow. 

Nathan returned to his screen to see another thumbs up left by Murderface, and underneath a message from a Toki. 

Oh. hey. Der ams a zits :D 1:45PM

Again, Nathan retreated from the dethphone to better inspect his friend. This time, Nathan landed his stare on Skwisgaar’s back. Within seconds, he spotted a bright red pimple at the center. Nathan was immediately entranced at the sight. His jaw slacked at its colorful base and large, swollen head. 

The phone buzzed again. Nathan tore his eyes from the fat pimple to see what his bandmates had discussed while he was distracted. 

Dude. Pop it. 

Pop n film it. 1:46PM

Hell yeah! 1:46PM

Oh wowee! 1:46PM

Everyone wanted him to pop it. Good thing, since Nathan wanted nothing more than to get his hands on it. That was a pimple just begging to be popped. And with Skwisgaar asleep and drunk, it wouldn’t be too hard to get the job. By the time he knew what hit him it would all be over. 

“Hey, Skwisgaar,” Nathan said with his best attempt at a hushed voice. He knelt over the bed, and his massive shadow cast over Skwisgaar’s resting face. “Hey. Hey, Skwis. I don’t know if you know this, but you have a pimple on your back.” 

Warm air splashed over his eyelids. Long, blond eyelashes fluttered mildly under the tempered winds, then ceased. Other than that, Skwisgaar remained motionless. 

“It’s really ripe,” Nathan counted with a gravelly voice.  “Like, bulbous white center full of pus and all.”

Oh, now there’s a line for a future song there…

His phone vibrated, egging him further. Reminding him to film. To share and poke fun. 

“Hey, Skwisgaar. The guys really want me to pop it.” 

His phone buzzed again. Nathan checked. It was Abigail, begging him to please leave Skwisgaar alone. Beneath her remark was Pickles telling her not to be a spoiled sport. Another from Murderface telling her she wasn’t the boss of them, followed by her reminding him that she was and that harassment involved…lots of big words and other dumb stuff. Whatever. Toki was sending pictures containing adorable kittens with those blurry sad eyes, and Nathan couldn’t just not do something about that. 

“See, everyone wants me to do it,” Nathan said to his sleeping compatriot. “You understand, right? Like, because it’s funny.”

He waited a second for Skwisgaar to utter another grunt, then aimed his camera. He swapped from picture to record and stared through the screen, at the fuzzy red image of the pimple. Licking his lips, Nathan aimed the camera. He could do this, right? Yeah, and it would be funny. So funny that even Skwisgaar would have a laugh. Once he saw it. He still needed to film it. 

Nathan brought his oily, powder stained fingers into view. He lowered them, hovering dangerously close to the swollen mound. 

One quick pinch. That was what he had to do. Just…get in there and squeeze. Keep the camera still and push his thumb and forefinger together. God. How would it come out? In one foul, yellowish burst? Like a string that coiled round and round until it spilled blood? Would it be a chunky flood of green or, damn, he really needed to keep a notepad. This was some good shit. 

Nathan was just about to press his greasy fingers on Skwisgaar’s back when a small chirp erupted from nearby. It wasn’t too overly shrill or loud, but the sound pierced upwards, snatching Nathan’s attention away from his deed and to the nearby Dethphone set by Skwisgaar’s pillow. Someone was calling Skwisgaar, someone so important they warranted their own unique ringtone. Probably one of the old cronies. Maybe his mom, or—uh oh. 

While he stood over Skwisgaar, Nathan noticed the man underneath him begin to turn. A slight movement that elongated and shifted into a waking stretch. Nathan’s throat dried into sandpaper as he watched Skwisgaar hand free itself from another pillow to blindly reach for the phone. Bad. This was bad. Nathan hurriedly looked over his shoulder, at the vast array of bottles that surrounded the bed and would serve to impede his escape. Slowly, he lifted a leg. The heel of his boot grazed an empty bottle, but Nathan was quick enough to avoid scraping any further. He placed his foot back on the floor, waited for the bottles around him to end their minor, yet notable vibrations, then attempted the same with his other leg.

He made an astounding three feet before Skwisgaar grabbed his phone.  

“Hello?” Nathan heard Skwisgaar grumble with a nasally groan. Nathan froze in place, and listened to Skwisgaar sniff, clear his nostrils while a delicate voice spoke through the line. “Abigails? Whats?”

Shit. Nathan backed a few inches, this time without looking. A terrible mistake. In his hasty attempt to flee, both legs bumped into a bottle, one of which fell upon its side at the moment of impact. Nathan’s already pale demeanor turned a ghastly white as the ringing filled the room and Skwisgaar, who’s already miserable expression winced in agony at the shrill and piercing sound, ripped his head from the phone to face his unseen offender. 

Nathan couldn’t remember the last time he was so afraid to look a man in the eye., 

“Na’tans? You’s…” Skwisgaar scoffed at him, shaking his head in disbelief at the barbecue flavored fingertips splayed before him. He recoiled, then tiredly pointed a finger at the group chat. His bitter, hanging lip tightened into an angry scowl. “Eugh, you sons of a bitch!” 

He reached for an empty bottle and threw it at Nathan with pristine accuracy. The damn thing spiraled forwards and Nathan stumbled back, knocking into another bottle, but otherwise missing the one flying at him. It hit the wall and shattered right behind him, filling the room with a powerful cry that forced Skwisgaar back into the sheets, Nathan to stop what he was doing to cover his ears. 

“Dude, watch it!” 

Skwisgaar scoffed. He kicked up sheets and while Nathan stumbled his way back, saw a flurry of blankets fall and Skwisgaar reform from a crumbled mess to a tall and vicious figure. Nathan’s heel bumped into a half-filled bottle and he, stripped of his confidence, was taken by surprise. Years spent playing sports and playing and performing under pressure, and when Nathan saw a wild set of hands on him, only fumbled and fell backwards. 

“I’ms going kicks your ass!”

“Fuck!” 

Bottles clanked and both men tumbled to the floor. The room filled with more ruckus, vodka splashing and and spilling into the concrete flooring. Nathan hit the bedroom wall with a rough thud, but his wide frame happily absorbed most of the damage. Unfortunately, his head bumped against the wall, and the recoil left the entire back half of it aching. Across from him was Skwisgaar. Unlike Nathan, who had the misfortune to slip behind a bottle, Skwisgaar instead made the mistake of stepping on the half-eaten bag of chips Nathan somehow misplaced, and was now wreathing and rolling from side to side. Shattered pieces of chips were spilled under and around him, staining his skin in an uneven mess of tangy red goodness. 

“Gods fucking damnit.” 

Nathan stared at the perplexing array of broken chips that were scattered across Skwisgaar’s back like a delectable galaxy. And there, amongst it all, was the pimple. Somehow, the darn thing had survived the fall, and was now a white, blazing sun amongst thousands of hickory flavored asteroids. Suddenly inspiration. Nathan grabbed his phone and, waiting until Skwisgaar recoiled in agony just right so that the light really captured the oily bits, snapped a photo and sent it to the group. 

His phone went off before he had a chance to stand up. It was from Abigail. 

:( 1:49PM

[failedintsave]

Help I've contracted terminal one-shot brainrot. I ventured out from my usual writing playlists and suddenly I have 5 WIPS instead of 1. Someone send coffee.

Acts of Service

The door to Twinkletits' office shut behind Toki with a click of finality, leaving him in the empty hallway with only his thoughts, muddled as they were. Normally he left a session with the therapist with at least some sense of clarity as they unwound his tangled emotions and experiences, but lately he'd felt as though he'd been haunting the corridors of Mordhaus in a fog.

Twinkletits called it seasonal affective, said some things about lack of daylight bringing it on, but Toki had his doubts. He'd grown up where winters were much darker and bleaker. He was well acquainted with the weighty oppression of the darkness. This felt different. It wasn't the sun he missed. He felt adrift, disconnected.

Even in his earliest memories Toki had always loved the holiday season. It was one of the rare times of the year that his father's church services had seemed less funerary, the inside of the chapel adorned with candles and pine boughs. When he'd gotten older and left home he'd been further enamored by the commotion and color of the season's celebration. Sparkling lights and brightly colored wrapping papers dazzled him, but his favorite part of it all was the effect the holidays seemed to have on people. They were kinder; gestures of affection and goodwill between friends and strangers alike woke a need within him. He wanted more than anything to share that kind of joyful connection with someone.

The fact that the rest of Dethklok didn't share his passion for the season of giving hadn't mattered. Every year he joyfully showered his bandmates with extravagant purchases and tried to convey his love without outright stating it and being called out on the band's strict "no caring" rule. Even though his efforts were usually received with disinterest or ignored entirely, it hardly fazed him.

But since his captivity Toki had struggled to feel connected to anyone. After the fiasco that was the Murderface/Knubbler Christmas Special last year, everyone was content to let the holiday slip by unnoticed, without even the distraction of a visit from their mothers, off on some booze drenched Christmas cruise. The holidays came and went without fanfare and time continued to slip by unmarked until Toki wasn't sure what day it was. Was it still even January, or had he drifted through an entire month?

He trudged past the doorway leading to the rec room, glancing in to where Pickles and Murderface sat watching tv, Nathan on the far end of the couch with his reading glasses and a newspaper. His movement must have caught the drummer's eye, Pickles turned his head to face the door, tipping his chin up in acknowledgment but saying nothing before returning his gaze to the screen ahead of him. Toki floated away down the hall in silence, an aimless spectre.

For a little while after his recovery the band had made real efforts to welcome him home. Murderface toned down the art of being a dick, instead offering frequent encouragement as Toki reacclimated to normal life. Pickles accompanied him to most of his physical therapy sessions, giving some excuse that he wasn't getting any younger himself and could probably use some mobility coaching. And Nathan, ever conservative with his words, had been a near constant presence, always finding a reason to pat Toki on the back or put a hand on his shoulder. But as time dragged on their day-to-day routines gradually faded back to the casual indifference of yesterday, and Toki felt himself begin to slide.

Twinkletits had made some suggestions today, mostly the usual things, exercise, light therapy, working on a hobby. He hadn't really had any desire to work on his modeling kits in months but maybe it was worth a shot. Toki pushed open the door to his bedroom and was surprised to find it occupied. 

Skwisgaar looked up from where he was seated on Toki's mattress, Flying V cradled in his lap. An opened pack of Dunlop strings and a pair of wire cutters lay next to him.

Stepping into the room, Toki tilted his head to the side. "What ams you doing?"

Skwisgaar's mouth quirked into a wry grin. "I believes you ams at least partially familiars wif dis inskruments." He twisted one of the tuning pegs, down-tuning another string for removal. "I'ms just restringings it, don't worries, nots here to sabotage you."

"But dats my guitar."

"Ja, I dids mine earlier and den I t'oughts yours ams probably dues for a fresh set too so…" he shrugged, turning his attention back to the instrument.

Toki watched as nimble fingers threaded stainless steel filaments through the bridge of his guitar with practiced ease, stepping closer as he struggled to swallow around a lump rising in his throat. He reached out to grasp the neck of the instrument, gently lifting it out of Skwisgaar's hands and setting it aside on the floor.

"I wasn't dones wif dat!" Skwisgaar's eyes tracked the guitar to it's stand, empty hands splayed open.

"It can waits."

Toki climbed onto the bed, arms snaking around the other man's middle. He buried his face between the bony ridges of Skwisgaar's collarbones, practically crawling into his lap to claim the now vacated space. The blonde made a quiet sound of surprise and wrapped slender arms behind Toki's shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Concern laced the murmured question, Skwisgaar's breath warming the crown of Toki's head. "Ams you okej?"

Toki nodded, pressing closer as Skwisgaar angled them to lean back against the pillows, palm rubbing comforting circles on his back.

"You shores?"

"Ja." And he was. Maybe not entirely, but at least for now. The darkness would recede eventually, the sun would return, but for now he could be content in the illumination of the golden heartbeat beneath his cheek.

It was enough.

[atmilliways]

You’re Pickleface is so good, I can’t resist tossing out some smut prompts for them: 7, 12, and/or 13? :)

I think, I think... I might just have managed to hit all three of those. Also it’s trans Pickles. 

[smut prompts]

7) “Oh my god you’re so much better than the last person I was with.” 12) “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.” 13) “Touch yourself for me.”

~

Ever since their first encounter on the Dethsub, Murderface pretty much couldn’t believe his luck. And sure, the second time he and Pickles hooked up it was while the guy was still visibly fuming about Nathan getting some base or another with Abigail—something had happened, anyway, though it had been hard to tell from just the audio. But what kind of an idiot would look gift sex in the mouth, especially under such depraved and deprived conditions? Even if it was pretty gay, doing it with a dude. Even if said dude had different, uh. Equipment. 

Pickles was pretty decent about that though. He never made fun. Possibly because whenever they were alone together anymore, he had a dick in his mouth more often than not. And fuck, when he did, it was like no one else in the world existed. Totally locked in on the present. He’d said that was what he liked about their trysts, that it couldn’t be just anyone; he was ghosting his fingertips over Murderface’s distinctively calloused, crooked dick while he said it, mapping the contours one maddening centimeter at a time, eventually making him come from that alone, but not until the bassist had begged for it. Another fantasy box ticked. 

And it was okay, because there was this unspoken rule that they were only doing this because there were no women around. An ‘only on the sub’ rule. Murderface told himself he was fine—happy, even—with that, and tried not to think about how the way Pickles looked at him sometimes made him feel so, uh. Wanted. 

As soon as they returned to Mordhaus, Pickles grabbed a hold of his t-shirt sleeve and hauled him away from the rest of the guys, towards the drummer’s room. He nervously assumed that this was to hammer out the Rule in actual spoken words, make the boundary between submarine conditions and real life perfectly clear, because. . . . Well, the alternative was to build himself up to inevitable disappointment, right? And this way he wouldn’t have to deal with the whole extreme gayness of what they’d been doing, which would almost be enough of a relief to completely wallpaper over the deep sense of loss that he couldn’t explain to himself. To try would be far too devastating. 

So when Pickles closed the bedroom door by shoving Murderface against it and standing on his tiptoes to mash their faces together, he’s never been happier to be proven wrong about something in his entire fucking life. 

When they pulled apart they were both flushed and panting and reluctant to stop. Murderface stared at Pickles’ mouth, gnawed on his own lips, and mumbled, “Are you schure you don’t want to do schome schlutsch or schomething inschtead? Becausche . . . we’re back on land now. . . .”

Pickles arched an eyebrow, something he tended to do whenever Murderface asked questions that the other man thought he should already know the answer to. “No shit, Sherlock. If I wanted to know where to find groupies I would’a grabbed Skwisgaar or Charles.” He palmed Murderface through his shorts, smirking to find him already half hard. 

Even the way they’d been going at it for the time it took to make landfall, neither of their libidos had gone back to normal yet. They were both on a hair trigger. 

“C’mahn,” Pickles wheedled with a squeeze, “gimme a hit.”

Yep. Thoroughly fucked, and he hadn’t even gotten to come yet. 

Murderface fell into him like space trash being drawn into a black hole. They hit the bed and Pickles scrambled with quick-bitten nails to get their pants undone—one stray hangnail scratched at the eczema on Murderface’s stomach, but they both ignored it. And Pickles was panting in his ear, what do you want, tell me, how do you want me big guy, tell me tell me tell me. 

It was overwhelming. On the submarine, they’d worked their way through Pickles’ check-list of sordid fantasies because he had so many. It wasn’t that Murderface couldn’t have had anything he wanted then, but he’d never thought of anything to ask for; Pickles was the creative one. Pickles was better at . . . everything, way better than anyone Murderface had ever persuaded to be with him before, and now that expertise was being put entirely at Murderface’s discretion. 

“C’mon,” Pickles breathed, nipping at his earlobe, “what is it?” His hand slipped into Murderface’s shorts, fondling him through his boxers. “It can be anything. Ya don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily—you know that by now, right?”

Chewing hard on his own lip to remind himself not to come in his underwear, Murderface closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath in through his nose. It was so hard to think with Pickles touching him like that. Hell, it was all he could do not to buck his hips like a horny teenager, because, fuck. If not for his blood being busy rushing between his legs, his face would be as red as a tomato. 

“Touch yourschelf for me,” he whispered finally. 

Pickles’ lips curved against his jaw. “Oh, so all you want’s a show?”

“N-no, I didn’t schay that. . . .'' Murderface could feel himself shaking, physically shaking. So hard to think with Pickles touching him, anywhere, in any way, even when the hand on his cock had stilled. Pull yourself together you dumb idiot asshole! “You schaid, one time on the schub, you schaid that you had . . . toysch at home? And juscht didn’t bring any. . . ?”

A sharp intake of breath told him that Pickles had caught on to where this was going pretty quick. “Oooh, that kinda touch myself.” The drummer nipped at his earlobe. “You gonna walk in and find me, punish me fer my dirty ways?”

“Nn. . . .” God, there was already a damp patch on his y-front. He knew Pickles could feel it, and that awareness was driving him even more insane. “M-maybe nexst time. I wasch thinking you could usche schome toysch, and . . . I . . . couldbeoneofthem?”

And that way, that way, Murderface could watch and learn what to do. He’d never learned to read tabs very well, just enough to help him remember how it’d gone when someone else showed him how to play it. (Not that Skwisgaar often had the patience, usually just letting him play like shit and then re-recording it later alone.) But he couldn’t ask, with bass or with the drummer, because he had his pride. For some reason. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Pickles breathed, and wasted no time in detaching to scoot back on the bed, shedding clothes the whole way. By the time he hit the headboard and groped to one side for a nightstand drawer, the only things he still had on him were those blue wristbands he always wore and his underwear caught around one ankle. He spread his legs—Murderface could see everything, everything—and began.

[multifandomthoughts]

Still of the Night

Requested by: @dynamesvirtue​, 

AFAB reader

Word Count: 2.4k words.

Synopsis: It’s been weeks since Magnus had been home, and you’re ready to give him a warm welcome when he returns! Warm, and oh so naughty.

Wandering the halls of Mordhaus once again, you sighed and looked up at the dark and foreboding walls of your residency, only lit by the blazing torches. Magnus had been away for it seems like an eternity, and you felt like you had been without him for years rather than months. Sleeping in your shared bed was incredibly tough; you’d often lay there and inhale his scent, and once morning came you’d be disheartened when he wasn’t right beside you.

He would call you, sure, but it wasn’t as often as you would like. You didn’t know what was going on every night that you were away from him, and you don’t know what kind of mischief he was getting up to with his bandmates. That was pretty much how you had met him; you had decided to go out with your friends for a night at the sleaziest club in the city. You hadn’t been doing so well lately and your friends had decided to cheer you up by taking you out for the night. You would rather have stayed inside on the couch eating ice cream and watching mediocre TV. But you weren’t going to get what you wanted this time; oh no. It will be fun, they said. Maybe you’ll find someone you like, they said. That part ended up being true. You ended up leaving the house and going with your friends to the bar, whereupon entering, you were met with an interesting sight.

Three men, clearly inebriated were arguing and growling at each other “growling at each other. You couldn’t make out most of the conversation, but a few scattered bits reached you. Mostly “douchebaeg”, and “yous ams a stupid mans”, and a rather loud “drums ain’t fuckin cool!!”. You wanted to avoid weirdos like that, but then he caught your eye. Unfortunately, before you could approach the strangely alluring man a brawl erupted between the other dudes. It started with a bottle getting smashed on someone’s head, then people were throwing whole plates at each other and picking up stools to use as weapons. Your first thought had been “fuck this!” and you found a table away from the action to try and hide under. Sneaking away from the epicenter of the fight, you seem to have finally gotten close to the man.

Furtively moving to the barstool next to him, he gave you a side-eye, before giving a small accent hello. You introduced yourself, giving your name, and then began small talk with him as the while banging, crashing, and screaming was going on in the background. “I can’t believe they’re doing it again...they always do this when we go out.” He sighed and took a long sip of his drink, covering his face with his hands.

“You know them?” You replied, surprised that such a calm and collected man could know some people so rowdy and crazy. Sighing and pausing before he spoke, he says “Yeah…they happen to be my bandmates. We happen to be on tour at the moment and whenever we go to some restaurant or bar I have to be the responsible one and reign them in. It’s quite insulting.” A screech erupted from one of them; startled, you looked back at them. One of them, a man with ginger dreadlocks, piercings, and a wristband covering each arm had picked up another man by the shirt. The man he was picking up had dark brown hair shaped like a mushroom, a gap in between his teeth, and was a little chubbier than the others. The man next to you, who’s name you found out was Magnus, went wide-eyed. “I think I have to go…this looks bad.” Before getting up to go deal with his bandmates, he writes his name and number on a napkin in front of him and dashes off.

You headed towards your bedroom for the night, once again expecting to be greeted with the same old thing as every night that he was on tour. Unbeknownst to you, Magnus had arrived home quite early from his tour and had decided to surprise you by sitting on his side of your shared bed. Walking inside of your shared quarters, a smirk crept onto his face when he had discovered you were right where he expected you to be.

“Magnus…” you gasped, so happy to see your significant other after time away. “Hello my dear…” he responded, his thick accent piercing the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for a few more days…I expected to sleep alone tonight…”

Your voice went from normal to a whisper, as you realized the rest of the band may be in your vicinity. “Where is everyone else?” You questioned, hoping that if this became intimate, it wouldn’t attract their gazes. “Oh, worry not my dove. I sent them on a little bit of an adventure to make sure that they wouldn’t interrupt our precious time. I sent them on a nearly impossible quest to find a guitar that can play a riff by itself. They won’t be back for quite a while.” You smirked, knowing that they will never find it and that maybe tonight will be a good night to get some alone time. Scooting over onto his lap, looking innocent, you begin to ask about the tour, all the things that he’s gotten up to, and the hijinks that ensued. “Oh…it seems that you’re giving me two contrasting ideas…two can play that game.” He stated in a deadpan voice, as you could feel two fingertips begin to graze your shoulder. Perfect, your plan was beginning to fall into place. You turn around and straddle his hips, running your fingers through his brown curls.

Cutting off his words with a kiss, you hoped that you had gotten your point across about what you wanted. Pulling back, he growled and cooed. Getting closer to him, you can smell more of his natural scent, and it only excites you further. Leaning forward to rest your forehead on his, your breath becomes uneven as your cheeks grow flush and you can’t stop smiling.

“What shall I do to you first?” You muse teasingly, gently tugging on the hair near the nape of his neck. In response, he lets out a primal sort of growl from the back of his throat and moves to kiss your face and neck as if wanting to get the advantage of the first move. This only prompts you to hold his head tighter and closer so he can’t pull away. Breathy sighs and light moans pass your lips before you even realize it’s happening. Your lips on his, soft and wet, the subtle taste of alcohol on them. You pause and pull his jacket off of him, genuine leather, before placing your mouth back on his. Instead of putting your hands on his cheeks like a normal person, you stroke his now bare chest, admiring the dips and indents his body had.

“You look just as good as you did when I last saw you....” you cooed to him. Kissing him again, you lick his lips, asking for permission for entrance. He gave it, and your tongue swirled around his. Gripping his bareback until it left marks, you scooted closer into his lap, getting much more into it. Magnus bit your lip in anticipation, not drawing any blood, but sending chills down your spine when you realized what had happened. As you were clenching your fingers into his back, he was running his long skilled fingers up your shirt, causing you to flinch.

“You look every bit as good too, and I wanna see if that’s true under all these layers.”

The more skin he exposed the more places he started planting kisses. His breathing became erratic and his eyes were lidded. “You can’t imagine how much I need ya, after all that time apart.” He muttered, hands going down to squeeze the flesh of your ass. You nodded your head softly, taking his hands and attaching them to your shirt. He seemed to get the idea and grasped, pulling your shirt over your head and onto the floor. “I never get tired of this...” he coos, and with your consent, he runs his hands over your chest and squeezes it. You squeak, as his hands were cold and you were not expecting him to squeeze them.

“Y-You like it? You stuttered, feeling a little shy about your body. “Of course my dear, why would I not?” As he was squeezing your chest, you decided to do something of your own. Sliding your hands down his body, and into the back end of his pants, you began to squeeze and knead. The tender flesh fit right into the palm of your hand as if you were squeezing a peach.

“Ahhh!” He let out a long moan as you held the flesh in your hand. Leaving one hand to play with his rear, the other slid around front to undo the button and then the zipper, as you start tugging his pants off entirely. You wondered how he could go every night wearing these pants; they were long leather pants that seemed to stick to every piece of skin.

Magnus starts wiggling his hips to help you yank his pants down, and you can immediately notice the burden he’s been hiding under the next layer.

“Oh, look what we have here…someone has been a needy little boy, haven’t you? You have been a good boy while I was away, haven’t you? If you have, you get the joy of me wracking you with pleasure so intense that you can’t even speak.” Magnus gulped, finding it hard to speak already. You run your hand over the fabric of his underwear, ready to absolutely wreck him.

“Maybe I’ve been a good boy, maybe I’ve been a bad boy, who knows? You know how rowdy I and the boys can get when we’re away. I’ve been waiting so long for this, every lonely night, every waking day. You drive me absolutely wild…” Magnus sneered at you, in the way a certain eighties musician would have done while attempting to rub your legs for payback. Being teased was not something he liked. his knee brushed up your inner thigh to your core, and you couldn’t help but coo with delight.

“And you’re making it really hard for me to not just tear these clothes off you. So are we gonna keep torturing each other or are you gonna give me what we both want?” As you say, you lean forward to fill his hands with your chest, licking your lips. You brush your hand dangerously close to his covered cock, desperately wanting to pull it out. But you know that it wouldn’t be fair to have him completely nude while you were just missing a shirt. All the same, you were the one to take his pants off. So he should do the same, and to that end you stand up and wink at him. “Help me get out of these?” You ask, wiggling your hips in a seductive manner, hopefully enticing him to do what you want.

Magnus’s brown eyes widen and he scrambles to take your pants off, almost tripping over himself. He hooks into your pants and panties, yanking them down with such force that he could have ripped them if he wasn’t careful. Now he could get to the goods he wanted. You were still as beautiful as he remembered, no bumps bruises or marks to be seen on your body.

The fresh air hits your body startling you. You squeal and giggle with the combination of that and Magnus’s hands roaming your body. The pads of his fingertips were calloused and worn and made for an interesting texture against your skin. As his hands neared your groin, with your approval he spread your legs just a tad wider to get a better look at you.

“Such a dirty boy, aren’t you? Looking directly at the place a man shouldn’t be. The only way you’re going to make up for this is to beg; now go on and do it!” What had gotten into you, Magnus thinks, how much has changed since he last saw you? No matter, it was interesting and exciting.

“Please, may I fuck you?” He mumbled, the words falling out of his mouth. “Louder!” You proclaim. “I want to fuck you, please!” One more time, you said. “Let me fuck you!” “Now that’s more like it.” Pulling down his undergarments, his erection now sprung free as he shuddered from the cold air connecting with his cock. Holding it in one hand, the other went to your hip to hold the two points of union steady. “Ready for the big show?” He pants excitedly

Nodding your head vigorously, you were excited to say the least. “What’s that? I need verbal confirmation that you’re ready.” “Yes, I’m ready. Please fuck me, Magnus!” You whined, just looking at his cock inches away from you. Slowly slipping into you, he let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

Meanwhile you let out more than just a breath, a high moan bursting from you as you started rocking your hips back against him. “Fuck yes…I missed this feeling so damn much…” Pumping in and out at a steady pace, Magnus could already begin to feel himself enjoy this. Taking his time at first he then starts to speed up a bit, losing his mind at the pleasure he’s feeling. You’re feeling a similar way, however, you decide to play with his hair gently. Alerted back by his senses, he realizes that he could do so much more for you in terms of pleasure. Upon this revelation, he places his mouth upon your nipple and sucks.

Muffled sound pours out of Magnus’s mouth, something along the lines of: “Now the tables have turned and you’re the one lost in pleasure.” And at that moment, you yanked on one of his dark brown curls, eliciting a yelp and a shiver of pleasure to go through Magnus. After what felt like hours, you could feel your climax creep up on you, sweat dripping from both of your bodies. “I’m so close...” you said in a voice hoarse from screams and moans. “Yeah I can’t hold back any longer...” he replied, muscles twitching in anticipation of the coming release. “So where do you want it?”

You didn’t expect to get that question, and your pleasure addled brain can hardly think about a response, but the answer does find its way out. “M-my stomach please…” you manage to stutter out through pants. “You got it…ah! Pulling out, his seed explodes onto your stomach as you find your way to your climax, pulsing and sweating all the way through it. Magnus puts a hand on your thigh to help you stabilize as you come down, breathing heavily himself.

As your combined shuddering began to dissipate, and your breathing slowed back to normal, Magnus smirked at you. “Damn fine way to welcome me back, don’t you think?” You leaned in to kiss him again. “Only the best for you.” The two of you soon retreated under the bedsheets and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

[lampmeeting]

U for hammertooth, but Toki’s the one that loves him first? 👀

okay, this one...... oof T~T

U: Unrequited Love, Eventually Returned 

this fic would start with a long flashback to the times when toki and magnus would hang out pre-doomstar. they’re at magnus’ apartment and toki’s helping him tidy up a bit (because at this point he’s already crushing and wants to do anything to hopefully endear him to magnus), and he finds a ratty old guitar case in the back of the closet and gets SO excited because he’s never heard magnus play or even TALK about playing even though music used to be his life. so toki grabs it and realizes right away that it’s lighter than he would expect, and when he opens it there’s...nothing inside. toki carries the case into the living room and sets it down on the kitchen table to grill magnus about it. after some gripes about toki being a snoop, magnus finally admits that he sold his les paul on craigslist back in ‘07 so he could fix his car. toki is HORRIFED. they’ve gotta get it back! magnus’s is like “nah man, that thing’s long gone. i don’t even remember who bought it.”

fast forward to post-doomstar, a couple months out. in spite of everything, toki still feels what he feels, and having watched over magnus in the hospital for weeks listening to him struggle for breath and beg for mercy in his sleep, he’s found a way to forgive him. when magnus recovers and gets put through physical therapy, toki’s there to help, even if it makes magnus angry and stand-offish. it doesn’t matter if magnus hates him, he just wants to be there and see him get well again (though it hurts his heart so, so badly when he catches those livid eyes on him)

after months of this, when magnus is improved enough to finally leave the hospital, toki surprises him at his new place with a gift. “wanteds to gives this to you back ins the hospital, but tooks me a long time to find.”

magnus is already irritated, wanting nothing to do with another guitar. but when he opens it up... oh. it’s a les paul custom like the one he used to have. or wait... magnus picks it up, flips it over, and there’s a fucking scratch right in the middle of the back. it’s his les paul custom. he’s speechless. toki explains how he had mordhaus IT contact craigslist and they were able to dig and figure out who magnus had been communicating with, and then it was just a matter of contacting the guy and offering him a lot of money.

magnus finally finds his voice, asks toki why the fuck he would bother. toki gets a little flustered because the answer is because i loves you, you fuckins idiot. instead he says something about the things we think are lost and gone forever sometimes aren’t. sometimes we get a second chance with them. and then magnus quietly breaks down and starts crying, and when toki moves in to hold him, magnus holds him back. and they stay like that for a really long time. so long that toki spends the night. :)

[dethshit]

Rocking Around The Christmas Tree

Dec 13th: Your Favorite Holiday Tradition Dethklok Style

Toki practically vibrated in place, shifting from foot to foot as he waited impatiently for everyone to come into the living room of Mordhaus. It had taken him hours, hell, days of begging, pleading, whining and complaining to anyone within earshot but he finally got his wish. 

He was going to decorate the massive Christmas tree he had pestered Offdensen into buying with his family. 

The massive evergreen tree smelled of artificial pine and stood tall, so very regal despite the macabre décor. It was custom made and probably cost more money than most people could dream of touching. It was bolted down to the floor by an iron base to keep it from wobbling. 

The black tree skirt had been Toki’s personal choice, decorated with white skulls with splatters of red and green glittery pools that looked shockingly close to blood. It wasn’t the only thing he had a hand in. He had helped prepare the massive star to adorn the top of the tree. It was made from stainless steel painted black with fourteen sharp points to symbolize everyone important in his life. There was one for each member of the band (he had reluctantly included himself to make it an even number), one for Murderface’s partner Noni, two for Charles and his partner, three for Abigail and her partners, one for Knubbler, one for Mashed Potato Johnson and even one for Magnus. The center had a red gem that Toki was told was some super expensive ruby from a far off land he never heard of but he loved the shine. He even convinced the creators to put a set of lights around the ruby that would twinkle cheerily. 

He hugged the star tightly, ignoring the bitter cold of the metal and the jab of the ruby against his face and chest. 

“Tokis? What ams yous doings?” He turned to Skwisgaar with a massive smile before running over and grabbing the blonde’s hand. 

“Skwisgaar, yous ams just in times! Theys brought de stars!” He yanked him to the black star, Skwisgaar falling over his feet from the amount of strength Toki used. “Sees? Offdensens lets me makes the stars with the helps of the blacksmiths and the makers and it has a points for everyones!” 

Skwisgaar wrenched his hand away, rubbing his sore wrist as he looked up at the star. “Oh, yeahs?” He asked dryly, bored with no one else around but the hyperactive Norwegian. 

Toki nodded excitedly. “The tops ams Offdensen and to his rights ams Akitas. To his lefts ams Noni. Moidaface ams next to Noni and Dana ams next to Akitas. Abby ams next to Danas and Carmens follows hers. Yous ams next to Moidaface and I ams next to yous! Pickle ams next to me and Nathan is next to Pickle. Knubbler is next to Nathan and Magnus is next to Carmens and the last one ams Mashed Potato Johnson!” He pointed out each individual arm of the 14 pointed star while Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. 

“...Oka- wait. Whys ams I next to Moidaface and yous?” Skwisgaar asked, eyes narrowing. 

Toki shuffled. “...Yous can takes a different points if yous want. You can be nexts to Mashed Potato Johnson?” He offered, hoping not to start a fight. 

“And be nexts to dats psycho Magnus?! Absolutely nots!” Skwisgaar huffed, upturning his nose at the very idea. 

Toki’s smile fell. “...then wheres dos yous want to be?” 

Skwisgaar glared at the shorter man. “Amnest it obvious? I shoulds be at de tops!” 

Toki stomped his foot, not caring how much he was acting like a child. “Nos! It ams for Offdensen! Yous cans have my spots instead!” 

“Of course yous wants my spots! Yous always wants my spots!”

“That amnest even whats we weres talkings about!” 

Their argument escalated until they were screaming in each other’s face, not noticing when the others came into the room. 

“Boys, really?” Offdensen asked, lifting his glasses to rub his face tiredly. Toki quickly shut his mouth, worried that Offdensen would change his mind and have the Klokateers decorate the tree instead. He had gone through so much trouble to pick out all the ornaments and he had a whole plan set up, the likes that would make Offdensen and Abigail proud. 

Skwisgaar scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dis ams a stupid ideas anyways.” Toki deflated slightly as Skwisgaar tried to leave the room. He was held back by a strong hand. 

He glared indignantly at Nathan. “We said we were gonna do this with Toki so we’re gonna do it.” Nathan mumbled, forcing the blonde back into the room. 

Skwisgaar bristled. “Yous can’ts makes me!” Nathan only frowned at him before turning over to where Offdensen and his boyfriend were busy unpacking some of Toki’s custom ornaments. “HEY AKIT-”

Skwisgaar hurriedly smothered Nathan’s yell, glaring at the lead singer. “Yous bastard!” He hissed. 

“Something wrong, boys?” Akita asked innocently but his eyes said something different. There was a definitive threat in those ice blue eyes that if anyone did anything to ruin the youngest bandmate’s plans, there would be absolute hell to pay. 

“Nothings!” Skwisgaar squeaked, his voice scaling up an octave. Akita narrowed his eyes and he read that there better not be. 

Toki grabbed a green bulb that had been strung with alcohol bottles instead of lights. “Pickle, this ams for yous.” The ginger grabbed the glass and grinned. “Dat’s pretty cool, Toki.” Toki’s face threatened to split with his wide smile before returning to his box. 

He had a black skull with a white Christmas sweater pattern running across it for Nathan. A knife with a bough of holly hanging off of it for Murderface. A palm tree wrapped in string lights for Noni. A makeup kit that lit up for Dana and a dress mannequin that had on a Santa suit for Carmen. Abby had a pair of old school headphones wrapped in ribbon. Offdensen had a computer that had HAPPY HOLIDAYS written across the screen that alternated between green and red. Akita had a golden microphone that sang Christmas carols when a button was pressed on the bottom. He had chosen a festive clown that reminded him a lot of his straw companion from his days in Norway. 

And then there was Skwisgaar. 

He reached into the box, hesitating as he ran a thumb over the cold glass. He startled when he felt a hand gently land on his back. He whirled around and blushed, feeling foolish. 

It was only Akita whose eyes were full of concern. “What’s wrong, Toki? I thought you wanted to do this.” 

He nodded eagerly. “Ands I stils do. I just...” He lifted the box to let Akita see the ornament he had chosen for Skwisgaar. 

It was an exact glass replica of his Gibson Explorer down to the tiniest scratch on the neck. Akita glanced up at him, cocking a blonde eyebrow. He turned redder. “I guess....” He glanced down at his boots. “What ifs he hates it? He hated his points on the stars.” 

Akita held back his soft chuckle to avoid offending Toki. He cupped his cheek, rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb. “Toki...you know he’s going to love it. The damn Swede is a drama queen, that’s all.” 

“SHUTS YOUS FACE YOUS DAMN FINNISH SHIT!” 

Akita let go of Toki’s face, turning around to confront Skwisgaar. “Oh, shut your own ass, you wish Sweden was as great as Finland!” 

“FINLAND AMS A SHITHOLE COUNTRYS!” 

“IT”S THE FUCKING BEST YOU ILLITERATE JACKOFF!” 

Toki smiled faintly at the familiar bickering. While the words were harsh and an outsider might suspect that the two blondes hated each other, there was genuine amusement in Akita’s voice and Skwisgaar’s insults were lacking the usual bite they had when the two opposing Europeans first met. 

Toki walked up to Skwisgaar while Offdensen pulled Akita away to help him untangle the lights much to Akita’s chagrin. “You just had to volunteer for the most difficult part of the job?” Akita asked dryly as he sat down next to an outlet. Offdensen rolled his eyes fondly at the complaint. “Four hands work faster than two.” 

“And six are even better. Hey, Noni! Come help, please!” 

Toki patted Skwisgaar’s shoulder. “U-Uh, Skwisgaar?” The blonde glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Whats do yous wants?” Toki winced and pulled the ornament from behind his back. “....I gots yous an ornaments too.” 

Skwisgaar was silent and Toki braced himself for the backlash with his eyes screwed shut. All he could hope was that Skwisgaar didn’t throw the precious glass and break it in his tantrum. 

He opened his eyes when he felt the weight lifted off his finger. Skwisgaar was gently cradling the mini guitar as if it was his real one. “...Yous gots dis...for me?” Toki nodded, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I wanteds to get ones for everyones. Yous ams part of everyones, Skwisgaar.” He explained quietly to his boots. 

He missed the way Skwisgaar had covered his mouth with his free hand, eyes starting to turn wet from unshed tears. The blonde quickly blinked away the tears before they fell and he shook away any visible emotion on his face. “It ams okays.” He finally deemed, underplaying how much it meant to him. Most of his Christmases as a kid were spent either in the cold or bouncing from house to house with anyone who would put up with him. The Christmases in the band were usually blurred by alcohol but even then. There was nothing festive about the day until Toki began his quest to make Mordhaus as festive as possible. 

Toki gave a small smile and grabbed his own ornament. It was a mini snow globe where a snowman with his fu manchu was in the middle of a group hug. There was a tall snooty snowman, a shorter one with Pickles’ fiery beard, another with a fierce scowl and the last had Murderface’s mustache. He wanted to add more snowpeople: one with a turquoise pendant around her neck, one with a set of glasses and semi circle green buttons for eyes, one with green robot eyes, an elderly looking snowman with a cane and another with a white and brown goatee. That was without even adding the newest members of his family!

But the man making the ornament begged him to keep the number small, his hand cramping with the amount of detail he was trying to cram on the small snowmen in the snow globe. 

There would be other years and he could add to the ornaments. 

He climbed up the ladder behind Skwisgaar and waited patiently for the taller man to place his ornament near the top of the tree. He placed his own towards the front so that everyone could see his snow globe and grinned happily at the sight below him. 

Noni and Murderface were adjusting some of the lower branches, Noni using their height to place some of the colored balls onto the tree. Murderface made a comment and the tall tanned figure laughed. Abby was sitting between Dana and Carmen as the trio worked on the beaded garland that would wind its way around the tree. It had gotten tangled in its voyage to Mordhaus and Carmen and Abby were talking while Dana nodded or shook her head along with the conversation. Nathan and Pickles were starting to work the lights Akita and Charles had untangled around the tree. Akita and Charles were watching them, Akita waving at Toki when they locked eyes. 

Toki waved back and winced as Skwisgaar pushed on his head. “Comes on ands moves it! I do nots plans to spends all days up heres!” 

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

I ended up combining two traditions into a small snippet of a fic. I love decorating the tree with my family and I usually get some ornaments for my friends and I take a long time to pick them out. 

And yes I added my own OCs and their respective ships what you gonna do about it

[ceaselessblade]

Headcanon (Armory and Clothing)

I was trying to write Ike’s bio and there’s... honestly too much to be said about some of the quirks about how he treats his weapons and armor that I might as well just put them here. 

ARMOR AND CLOTHING: Ike’s armor is asymmetrical. He usually holds everything together with belts and straps because he literally scavenges it out of bits and pieces to fit his unusual sword style. This is mostly because he needs his right arm open for his sword style, usually entirely uncovered at the shoulder joint or at least having free mobility in that area.  That’s right-- he has the ‘Chrom’ problem. It didn’t use to be this way, but as he grew, he found that lesser and lesser sleeves fit him. His right arm needs to be bare-- at least up to the bicep. If he doesn’t leave it bare, he goes through the clothing like wet paper. Mist has terrified him out of wearing sleeves entirely as a result: her eminent wrath after he gives to her the next ripped sleeve is simply not worth it.  This has resulted in many jokes about how he’d bulked up over the past three years when he’d finally started showing his bare shoulder.  Mist would be able to tell you that Ike never actually did become muscular all of a sudden, it’s just that he’d covered up too well for you to see it! Speaking of giving up, however-- even Mist has to retreat when it comes to Ike’s armor of choice on his left arm. That’s because of several reasons, but most recently because he’s developed a style where he usually guards with his left, utilizing his shoulder armor, elbow guard, or gauntlet itself as a buckler. 

As a result, his left sleeve gets singed, burned, tattered, frozen, and all manner of things on a regular basis if he’s wearing cloth on that arm. As a Vanguard, he’s completely eschewed said cloth for a leather covering and armor for this exact reason. 

Now, here’s a bit of a surprise, mentioned briefly earlier-- despite his common appearance, Ike actually really likes being covered entirely from neck onwards. This is the reason he likes multiple pop-up collars. The only exceptions that he has are because they directly affect his combat performance: (around joints) other than that, he prefers to bury everything else behind wraps, layers of leather and cloth, and steel. 

He has a very tight undercoat, and will wrap a sash or layer belts around his waist to secure it if he’s not already wearing a gorget to compress his waist. 

Moving to the limbs, he has an extreme favor for heavy boots and gauntlets: steel knuckles and steel-tipped boots. This is because likes having the option to smash weak points in with melee combat, a habit he picked up from the laguz. In the absence of claws and teeth, he’s picked up something similar with the sharp points of his  armor and body where he lacks natural weapons. Because of this, without those accouterments, he feels at least somewhat de-fanged and doesn’t know what to make of it. This particularly irks him when he’s given extra soft-weights or filigree, which register as things he can charge people with, but most emphatically aren’t. 

It’s like expecting to hit someone with the pommel of a sword and having it transform into a pillow mid-swing instead: it drives him nuts. 

The constant reshuffling between ingrained instinct for his balance and how he should shift it with the not-weapons on his body is a constant drain on his attention, and he’ll straight up call the clothing stuffy and shuck it off if possible. 

The effect can be mitigated if he’s wearing clothing that mimics his original weight distribution (heavy capes, shoulder weights, tightness in roughly around same areas), or clothing that flows in the wind. He’s used to having strips of cloth flutter about, so he doesn’t register those as failed weaponry. 

He finds heavy capes and flowing bands comforting: His vanguard cape with the metal bars actually put him at ease, because it feels like the burden that he’d assigned to his original cape when he was a ranger-- which had then fallen off as he’d grown used to heavier weights. The feeling of heavy cloth around his shoulders calms him down, and feeling the tug of wind on his headband or other clothing items helps him find his bearings at times when he’s stuck waiting. It makes him feel like he has a tail or has wings, and it’s nice to pretend that way in the moments between. 

WEAPONRY (TRAINING QUIRKS): As a ranger, he had an extremely counterproductive sword style where he used to draw his sword over his left gauntlet, creating sparks as he unsheathed it. This is a weakness borne from not having enough strength to use his father’s sword style at the time: as a result, he often took to forcing himself to hold his sword one-handed in an overhand grip just to train himself into getting used to doing so. As he’s gained enough strength to eventually draw his sword properly and also use it such, he’s since stopped that habit. If he ever picks up Urvan, however, it’s quite likely you’ll see something similar return-- he’ll attempt to use Urvan in a one-handed reverse grip, axe-head facing downwards, simply to train up familiarity and strength with the greataxe.

WEAPONRY (PREFERENCE): He prefers larger weapons for their comforting weight and larger range. You may make jokes about how he’s compensating--to this, he’ll just admit shamelessly that it’s what his father gave him, so he’ll make the best use out of it he can. If you have a problem with that, then if you would kindly shove one of his entire weapons up where the sun don’t shine, then perhaps you may be qualified to seek his opinion. No? That’s what he thought. 

For example-- If he picks up a bow, he’ll find himself actually snap some of the smaller ones by accident. He’ll need a bow that can withstand a stronger draw, and then he needs to adjust being able to grip the bow with his off-hand long enough for his draw to work due to a disparity between arm strength. 

This is likely to repeat with other weapons. He may not shatter weapons like Dimitri, but he has a habit of turning usable weapons into little more than dented stubs by the time he’s done if they’re not suitable for his use. He will put the weapon and himself through the paces, and to that effect, the results will get pretty brutal. 

He’s most commonly seen with his two large blades: These are one of the most noticeable items on his person, even above his clothing, due to their sheer utter size-- Ettard is roughly about 3/4th of his height, and Ragnell isn’t far behind, trading for hilt length over blade. That said, Ragnell is far more potent in general, both in make, weight, and in innate properties. 

Ettard is a personal keepsake from his father, and he enjoys using it-- it makes him feel like his father’s at his side, guiding him with every strike.  The blade itself is a little too gaudy for Ike’s taste, being embossed with Daein engravings bright gold filigree, but he won’t ever remodel it, simply because it’s his father’s old weapon and he wishes to keep it that way. He likes to think the markings evoke strength, and they’ve kind of grown on him over time. He likes to compare it with Urvan-- which is much plainer, but roughly about in the same style.  Ettard was originally made to be used both atop cavalry or on foot, like Durandal, which is why the blade length and make is such. Because of its dual nature, it’s ever so slightly wrongly balanced on foot and is made more for cutting down large swathes of enemies over one-to-one duels. Ike will favor this sword if he’s facing a large amount of enemies with inferior combat skill, and will use the range and sweep of the blade to shatter the poise of enemy fronts. Once that occurs, his allies usually step in to finish the job.  Ragnell is Ike’s signature blade-- despite his protests. He’ll never admit it because the value of the blade is simply that precious (and also a holy weapon of Begnion), but he’s never had a blade fit his hands so well. It’s like Ragnell is an extension of his limbs, and he swears to the Goddess that sometimes it’s like he can actually feel through the damn thing. 

That fact scares him a little inside. He doesn’t want to think about it. 

It also actually didn’t use to be this way. This is as because the goddess of its power specifically tuned its ownership to Ike to ensure her most fatal strike, so its energies have become in sync with him-- Ragnell breathes as he does, and the flames ebb and flow with his internal rhythm.  This means that Ragnell’s influence rubs off extremely easily on Ike-- it’s quite likely those more sensitive may be able pick up traces of it if he’s held it in the past few days. This has certain consequences-- mostly unfortunate.  Thankfully, he left it back in Begnion, huh? Good thing it’s not here in Fodlan! How nice! 

(haha)

In other aspects, however-- Ragnell is a blade made specifically for duelling. It and its twin Alondite were specialized for slaying the divine and the mortal respectively. It’s balanced well, better than Ettard is, and its focus is more precise than Ettard’s, despite appearing otherwise. 

The blade itself is ridiculously heavy, being made of an unknown metal with a golden sheen. It’s brimming with divine Blessing, and will never break or shatter as a result. Its myriad scratches have been caused with its contact with equally-blessed armor, or with clashes with its twin, Alondite. 

It has to be emphasized: Ragnell is heavy. Very heavy. Almost full-suit-of-armor heavy. To put things in perspective: a two-handed longsword, say, like a claymore, is 5 pounds. Ragnell is at least 11. The blade is built for chopping and slashing rather than thrusting.  It has a heavy, flared tip for smashing divine armor, and is particularly effective in weapon-to-weapon clashes, due to its weight distribution. Due to its longer hilt, Ike has more options with it than with Ettard. In a pinch, he’s able to grab the blade itself and utilize the hilt for a mordhau. 

Ragnell itself has no sheath. Ike actually has a particularly nasty habit with regards to this: At the time, he’d wanted to annoy Sanaki and everyone else into having him give up the blade at the end of Ashnard’s reign, so he proceeded to treat it in the most irreverent way he could to convince them-- by sheathing it in the ground.  That’s right. If he’s not carrying it on his back, it’s in Firma Terra itself, stuck up like a guidepost. Unfortunately for Ike, everyone had unequivocally agreed that the habit somehow suited him and left him with it, so his ploy failed rather miserably on that front.  That habit has never really left him-- although he’s most likely to carry the sword over his shoulders, if he has to drop it, he’ll rear back and put Ragnell a foot into the ground, and leave to do his errand, whatever it may be. Not many are really able to really pluck it from the floor when it’s been embedded in it, so it actually does function pretty well as a temporary weapon rack.  

If you manage to distract him enough, you’ll probably be able to figure out a trail of where Ike’s actually been from the distinctive holes in the ground every so often. 

[okietokiee]

from the 45 otp prompts, 25 w skwistok? :D

25. “I can’t be mad at you.”

This prompt is so cute and became long, shameless Fluff :’) 

Skwistok / Anniversary 

Skwisgaar was extremely proud. Though that was arguably his default mode, he had an extremely valid reason at the moment (other than being the fastest guitarist to ever grace the earth). 

His and Toki’s one-year anniversary had been fast-approaching for the past month. But now it was finally the day-of, and he was the most prepared he could ever possibly be. 

He wasn’t known as an esteemed playboy without good reason; he truly was a romantic at heart. And, though he could admit past romantic endeavors were mostly shallow and just a means to an end, he could honestly say this time was different. This time he was out to woo Toki and absolutely reinvent the world’s idea of romance. In a good way. 

And it started with an -eughhh- healthy breakfast in bed. 

After a klokateer handed Skwisgaar the impeccably prepared tray full of assorted fruits Toki was annoyingly fond of in addition to his favored brand of sugary cereal, Skwisgaar was on his way. 

Toki was still deeply asleep, spread out like a starfish smack-dab in the middle of Skwisgaar’s four-poster sized bed, where he had previously left him to retrieve his first surprise. 

The swede smiled fondly and set down the tray by the bed, plopping down and peppering Toki’s face with a multitude of quick, sloppy kisses. 

Toki was slowly stirred awake, and he giggled, returning Skwisgaar’s smooches with his own. He even started making some moves bring his kisses a bit lower, and he was incredibly surprised when Skwisgaar stopped his movements with a small push and cough. 

“Whats wrongs?” Toki asked, sitting up and stretching his sore muscles.

Skwisgaar grinned. “I gots yous breakfast,” he declared, as he picked up the tray from the floor and set it on Toki’s lap. 

To say Toki was confused would be an understatement, but he was never the type to look at a horse’s gift on the mouth. Or however that phrase went. Especially when that horse was an incredibly sexy Swedish guitar God with a tray of Toki’s absolute favorite foods to start the day with. He wasted no time and was munching happily. Skwisgaar even humored him and was currently eating a crisp red apple with no complaints. 

“Afters yous done gets yous swimsuit readies, we goinks somewhere,” Skwisgaar said with an air of nonchalance, sneaking glances at his boyfriend. 

“Where’s we goins Skwisgaar?” Toki asked after finishing his glass of orange juice. 

Skwisgaar smirked. “You’ll sees.” 

An hour later, if Toki’s excited, ear-splitting screech was anything to go by, he was pleased with this surprise. 

“I can’ts believes you buys de whole Splasharoonie Water Parks!” Toki yelled gleefully, already tearing off his clothes and eyeing the tallest waterslide. 

Skwisgaar gave a nonchalant hand wave. “Pfft, it no big deals. Nots dat expensives anyway. Besides now we cans come here whenever we wants,” he finished with a smile. 

And though both boys could rest assured that they could now visit the famous waterpark whenever they felt like it, the day was not wasted and by the end of the day they both tried every waterslide at least twice and were comfortably exhausted.

After a couple hours of lying close together on a beach chair, idly playing with each other’s hair and laughing about any stupid subject or observation that comes up, Skwisgaar surprised Toki once again. 

“You hungries?” Skwisgaar asked, combing his fingers through Toki’s chocolate locks. 

“Starvings! You wants to heads back nows?” Toki answered, sitting up a little. 

Skwisgaar grinned. “Nos, stays down, I gots it,” he said as he grabbed his Deathphone from the nearby side table and sent a quick text. 

Within minutes, a group of Klokateers approached and began setting up a picturesque picnic right in front of them, complete with a woven basket, Norwegian delicacies, and a generous assortment of booze. It was heaven. 

Toki was both incredibly overjoyed and completely bewildered now.

“Skwisgaar…”

Skwisgaar beamed, expecting his well-deserved praise and kisses right about now. “Yes Toki? It’s nice, ja?”

“Ja, it’s amazings! Buts…” 

This caused Skwisgaar to pause. He gave his man a scrutinizing stare. “What ams wrong? Dey forgets de stinky herrings? Gotdammit! I tolds dem dams klokateers-”

He was cut off from his rant by Toki’s light tugging on his arm. “No, no! It ams absolutely perfects! It’s just…”

Skwisgaar was confused and frustrated now. “Whats? Spits it out.”

Toki was flustered and finally got out a strained, “Why?”

For a painfully long moment, Skwisgaar had no idea how to respond. He briefly considered the idea that Toki was pulling his leg, and he let out a scoff. “It ams obvious you dildos. You knows what days it is.” 

Toki still had that annoyingly confused look in his big blue eyes. “I’m sorries Skwisgaar, what’s you mean?”

That was definitely the straw that obliterated the camel’s hip, and Skwisgaar angrily replied, “Our one years anniversaries you dildo!” 

Toki paled. “That ams today?”

Skwisgaar let out a frustrated groan. “Yes, it ams been on dis day for de past, I don’t know, year?” He said snidely, his good mood ruined. “I can’ts believes you forgets!” Outraged, the Swede pushed Toki off him and stood up, marching away.

Toki scrambled up, chasing after his boyfriend and trying to apologize. “Toki ams so sorries Skwisgaar! I aments goods at rememberings dese tings, and I didn’t realize you was de type to wants to celebrates dis!” 

Skwisgaar abruptly turned around. “Of course I wants to celebrates today! It’s my first anniversaries with someones I-” Skwisgaar paused, cutting himself off. He flushed red with anger and maybe a hint of something else. “Euuuuughh, it don’ts matters anymores… I ams goinks home…” He finished dejectedly, blocking out whatever fervent apologies and promises Toki made. 

The following day was full of Skwisgaar, understandably, locking himself up in his room with just his guitar for company to sulk, avoiding the object of both his affection and ire in every way he could. 

It was also full of Toki desperately trying to make it up to his man, in whatever way he could. He’d already caused the deaths of 2 klokateers after an attempt at baking Skwisgaar a cake, and he was prepared to lose more if needed. 

But his current plan (to the relief of his manager and employees) did not involve any potentially life-threatening machinery. 

He was dressed in a strikingly similar fashion to his Steve Vai phase years ago, but this time in a blindingly bright, glittery red 4-piece suit with his flying-V tucked under his arm. 

He looked cartoonishly absurd, and the rest of Dethklok was not blind to that. 

“Er… Toki, you sure Skwisgaar will appreciate this, uh… what are you doing again?” Nathan asked, already pretty used to the Scandinavian couple’s lovers quarrels. 

“I’m goins to serenade him,” Toki declared proudly.

Pickles gave a big laugh, and walked up to give Toki is supportive clap on the back. “You gett’em kid. He’ll love it.” 

Murderface rolled his eyes and mumbled vaguely encouraging, vaguely insulting platitudes Toki’s way. 

Toki, emboldened by his friend’s support, marched confidently up to Skwisgaar’s door and gave it a hard succession of knocks. 

“Gos aways!” Was his only muffled reply. 

With a nervous sigh, he plugged his guitar into a nearby amp brought by a klokateer and he prepared to make a complete and utter fool of himself. 

Within moments, the halls of Mordhaus was flooded with the smooth, dramatic sounds of Air Supply partnered with Toki’s broken, tone-deaf english. Which was quickly followed by Pickles’ barely contained laughter. 

“Ams all outta loves! Ams so losts wivouts you! I knows you was rights-”

Toki was so lost in the sappy music, he didn’t even notice as the Swede’s door slowly creaked open and the object of his desperate love slowly stepped out into the hallway to bear witness to his passionate tribute. 

As he finished with an intense improvised guitar solo that honestly rivaled his best live shows, he was surprised to hear the melodic laughter of his song’s intended recipient. 

“Skwisgaar!” Toki cried, throwing his guitar aside and shamelessly wrapping his arms around the taller man. 

“Toki ams so sorries! I never wanteds to forgets our anniversaries! I does anyting-”

He was cut off with an abrupt, fiery kiss from the Swede himself, and when they both separated after a long, amazing moment, he completely forgot what he was saying. 

“Toki… I just can’ts be mad at yous can I? You dumb dildos,” Skwisgaar said fondly, holding his idiot boyfriend in his arms. 

“Sos yous forgives mes?” Toki asked hopefully, smiling widely. 

Skwisgaar laughed. “I guess, afters a performance likes dat. Why can’ts you play dat well in rehearsals?” He teased. 

“Oh, shuts up,” Toki laughingly replied.

He playfully shoved his Swedish boyfriend straight back into his room where he followed, and he made sure to shut the door tight. 

Within moments, the halls of Mordhaus were filled with even more romantic sounds, although these sounds were more reminiscent to a dirty video than an 80s love song.

- - - - -

I guess I don’t really know what drabble means?? I’m sorry this ended up wayyy longer than originally planned ;-; But I was overtaken by the sap and needed to write it LOL 

Also, I blame @little-murmaider  for her Skwisgaar loving Stevie Wonder hc, because now I’m an absolute sucker for Skwistok interacting with soft, painfully sappy love songs

[thatwritingho]

I've seen a ton of really raunchy Skwisgaar stuff, but he can be such a fragile character and I felt like writing some fluff today, so here we are.

.

The soft knock knock on his bedroom door was enough for Skwisgaar to know who was on the other side without opening it; you were the only one who didn't mercilessly pound the poor wood with their fist or just barge in. He took a deep, shaky breath to settle his previous sobbing, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, heels of his palms pressing into his eyes in an attempt to stop the crying.

He didn't want anyone to see him like this, but especially not you.

The door cracked open, and a soft voice called out his name. He couldn't bring himself to look at you.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you entered the room, setting your eyes on the blonde perched on the edge of his bed, guitar laying untouched next to him. You could tell from where you were how tense his shoulders were, his face stubbornly hidden in his hands, long fingers threaded through silken hair and pulling just a bit too hard in an attempt to gain control of his emotions.

His mother had just left Mordhaus after staying what was, in your opinion at least, an entirely unreasonable length of time. The amount of damage she had done to Skwisgaar's nerves and self esteem during her stay would take a long time to heal, but as always, you were more than up for the challenge.

"Skwis..."

The echo of your footsteps filled the emptiness of the room as you approached him, and with a shaky inhale he finally acknowledged your presence.

"I wants to be alone right nows."

You ignored him, and knelt to the floor in front of him, gently taking his wrists and coaxing his hands away from his face. His eyes met yours briefly, bloodshot and distant, but as expected he averted his icy blues to the side immediately.

"I don'ts wants you here."

Again you ignored him, softly pushing his shoulders back to make room for you to slide into his lap, kneeling on the mattress to straddle him, and took his face into your hands, thumbs gently swiping away the tears still fresh on his cheeks. His gaze slipped back to yours, chilling you to the bone with how cold and devoid of emotion they were.

But that was alright. You would warm him back up soon enough, just as you had done countless times before.

"It's ok, you know. To let yourself feel things."

He scoffed and jerked his face away from your hands, but you weren't deterred and just slid your arms around his neck instead, combing your fingers through his long locks and pulling it all to one side, exposing his jaw, ear, and neck to your warm breath as you leaned into him.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders in an embrace, the tip of your nose tracing the shell of his ear.

"You know I love you, right?"

Skwisgaar couldn't hide a light shiver as you whispered in his ear, and you allowed yourself a small grin, despite his next words.

"Ja, yous and a millions other womens."

His jab meant little, his words always holding the most bite right before he gave in. You felt him start to relax as you kissed along his jawline.

"How about you let me cheer you up?"

An annoyed grunt was his reply, but yet his hands came to rest on your waist. It was all the affirmation you needed, and you began to trail your lips along the expanse of his neck, feeling him finally relax into you as you mouthed over a particular sensitive area. You teased your teeth over his skin, and were rewarded with a shaky groan from the blonde.

Now that he was being receptive, you took the opportunity to place you hands back on his cheeks, turning his face to yours as you planted a hot, open mouthed kiss to his lips. He was quick to respond in kind, his large hands splaying across your back to pull your chest flush against his as your tongues intertwined, dancing together and probing each others mouths, neither of you attempting to take control, just enjoying the feeling of being connected.

It was no wonder Skwisgaar was an amazing kisser, what with all the practice he had had, but it never ceased to amaze you how quickly he could leave you a breathless, flustered, needy, whimpering mess just from making out. Heat was rapidly pooling in your core, you panties becoming soaked with your severe need for him as his hips ground up into yours, his hardening cock pressing against your thigh.

Eventually, you managed to remove your mouth from his, a trail of saliva still connecting the two of you, and he descended upon your neck as you attempted to catch your breath. You whined, low and wanton, as he latched his mouth to your weak spot, sucking hard and rubbing his skilled tongue across your heated skin as his hands began to roam your body, making sure to keep you pressed firmly against him.

"Skwisgaar..."

He hummed against you in reply, making no move to stop his assault of your senses. You whimpered and tugged on his shirt, desperate for more skin on skin contact. With what seemed like great effort, he removed his mouth from you and yanked off the offending article of clothing, quickly doing the same with yours, and unlatched your bra in record time.

He left only enough space between your bodies for his hand to slid in the gap, groping at your breast as his mouth attacked your own once more. Long fingers teased at your peaked nipple, and your back arched as he twisted it between his thumb and index. His unoccupied hand pressed between your shoulders, dipping you back so he could latch his hot mouth to your other breast, suckling at your nipple as you mewled in delight.

Wait, wait, wait.

Weren't you supposed to be making him feel good?

Skwisgaar was a shockingly selfless lover, and was an expert at diverting the attention from himself and focusing on giving you pleasure instead, and it seemed he had done it again.

"Skwis"

He hummed in response, the vibrations against your abused nipple making you shiver.

"Skwis!"

He released your tit with a wet 'pop' and lifted you back up to eye level.

"Ja?"

"Take off your pants."

His lips twisted up into a smirk, eyes smoldering as you raised on shaking legs, backing up a bit to give him room to stand. He made a show of it, running his nimble fingers through his long hair, trailing them down his torso, making unwavering eye contact with you as he unbuckled his belt, flicking open the button and unzipping slowly, pulling his underwear down with them and letting them drop to the floor, his fully formed erection springing free from its confinement with enthusiasm, your mouth watering at the sight.

He stepped out of his pants and toward you, ghosting his hands across you lower abdomen and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants, easing them over your hips and grabbing a handful of your ass as he lowered them and your panties off your body in one go.

Skwisgaar took your hand lightly, guiding it to wrap around his aching cock, running your fingers along his length, the skin impossibly soft and warm as his eyes bored into your own.

"You wants this insides you?"

Your cheeks flushed, mind hazy from lust, and gave the only possible response.

"Yes."

He wasted no time in pulling your naked bodies flush together, connecting your mouths once more as he backed you both up to the bed, sitting down on the edge and pulling you back to your position straddling his hips. A few delectable moments were spent grinding his hard length against your slick folds, drawing desperate gasps and groans from you as he teased at your entrance.

"Skwisgaar, please..."

Half lidded eyes met yours, one hand cupping your face, the other gripping your hip, and he shocked you with the gentleness of his kiss as he lowered you onto his cock, your pussy wet enough for him to slide in without resistance. The two of you set a mutual pace, both rolling your hips against each other slowly, enjoying the feeling of him stretching you with his thickness, and you sighed and whimpered your approval as your lips met time and time again, each kiss sloppier than the last as he gently fucked you open.

Slow sex was vastly underappreciated, and you were starting to think the two of you needed to indulge more often. Your could feel every centimeter of his engorged cock as it slid in and out, in and out, your lower lips gripping on to the length in an attempt to keep him inside you, the head teasing against your gspot with delicious pressure as he bottomed out.

You were losing yourself to the sensations, and threw your head back with a loud moan as he stilled inside of you, dick filling you to the brim as you ground against him, clit rubbing against his pelvis and making your legs quiver, shockwaves of pleasure spreading through your entire being. Long fingers cupped your chin, pulling your face to his and pressing your foreheads together as he he resumed his thrusts, and you lost yourself in his blue eyes.

"Looks at me whens you come."

The pure passion and need in his gaze caused the string holding you together to snap, and you shuddered, muscles convulsing as you tipped over the precipice into mind blowing bliss, repeating his name over and over like a mantra. The fluttering of your pussy around his cock sent him reeling into his own euphoria, and his eyes never left yours as his face contorted beautifully in pleasure, coating your insides with his pearly ropes.

The two of you maintained eye contact as you both settled your breathing, his cock twitching inside you when you squirmed slightly; your knees were getting stiff from sitting like this. You both groaned as you lifted yourself off of his dick, and you whimpered at the feeling of emptiness without the connection to him.

He collapsed back onto the bed, and with a deep, steady breath, grabbed his guitar, beginning to absentmindedly pluck away at the strings as you settled down next to him.

He had finally relaxed.

"Hey, Skwisgaar?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Calm blue eyes glanced at you briefly, still a bit red and puffy from crying, before returning back to staring at the ceiling, fingers never ceasing the effortless picking of strings.

"Ja... mes too."

It was the best you were going to get from him, but that was ok. As long as you got to remain by his side, be the one to comfort him in times like this, it was enough for you.