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nowlemmehearyourguns · 5 years

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Did someone ask for... Murder-fluff?!

I’m finally done, y’all! I hope you like it!!

i do apologize for how ridiculously i type out his lisp in advance.

((oh hey, this is the internet’s first introduction to my OC, Venus. She’s a rascal and i hope you like her too. lol))

. . .

‘Party pass cash in!!! <3’ The text came through on the five musicians phones. Why she always alerted them all, no one knew. William heaved a dramatic sigh tossing his dethphone back onto the couch.

“Not like sche’sch gonna hang out with anybody but Picklesch anyway…” He mumbled to himself. He couldn’t rightfully be upset. One could only assume someone preferred to spend time with their significant other, hence the significance. But man were they annoying, flaunting their couple-hood all the time. And knowing his pouting would be seen as invalid only made him angrier. By the time the whoosh of the dethjet neared Mordhaus, he was nothing short of thrilled to tell Venus the rest of the band was out for the day. That’d show her and her stupid good mood!

“DK! Where we goin’ tonight?!” The booming command for attention echoed in the empty front room. Venus stood; arms stretched above her, her head thrown back to properly shout her excitement to the skies. After a moment of realized silence, she lowered her gaze to observe her surroundings. “Fellas?” She questioned.

Her klokateer escort attempted to scoot his way out of the awkward scene. “3713.” The number froze him in place. “So, like… when you say ‘my masters await your arrival’ is that just a spiel? Did Mr. O tell you thatcha have to say that?” Venus inquired.

The chill that went down his spine was nigh visible. “Ma’am?” He managed to utter the word cautiously.

“No, but really. You don’t lie to house guests and fly them out from New York knowing they’ll be left bored and they’ll absolutely have to pester you and several coworkers into entertaining them and then you find yourself in trouble because you aren’t supposed to be drinking on duty ‘but mean old V made you and it wasn’t your fault,’ right?” She quizzed mockingly.

“I do apologize. It was my understanding that-”

“Where do you get off ordering around OUR schervantsch?” Murderface butted in. The klokateer himself never expected the bassist to be his savior.

“Oh there you are sire! Miss Remeldtindrinc has arrived. The uh- less scary one.” The near-groveling gear was quickly dismissed with a shove and a trademark ‘fuck off’ as his far-from-benevolent master stood staring the small woman down. Venus thought to call the worker out on his comment, but recalling the last time she’d upset Abigail, she concluded he was well within his rights to title them as such.

“In all fairness, he was assigned to me. But enough about that.” Venus eased off her cutting tone, directing a genuine smile and greeting at the man.

“What’re you schmilin’ at?”

Venus, consistently unfazed by textbook Murderface behavior, sauntered over to the couch, her backpack thrown over one shoulder. “Can’t be happy to see a familiar face? It feels like it’s been ages!”

“You schtayed for a month and went home for a week.” He pointed out, following her.

She ignored the factual assertion. “Where’re the rest of your heathen friends?”

He crossed his arms. Right, he was supposed to be laughing at her misfortune. “They’re not here. Looksch like you flew all this way for nothing. But hey champ, better luck nexsht time! I’ll be scheein’ ya!” He began to motion her back to the door.

Venus stood her ground, causing William’s force to become apparent. She turned to face him. “You… don’t wanna hang out with me?” The less chipper tone caught him off guard.

“Well ahhh- What?” He backpedaled, unsure of what upsetting his band mate’s girlfriend would beget. Not to mention, the hurt looked pretty genuine. “I’m not- I juscht figured…” Now he was the one sounding pouty, much to the young woman’s amusement.

“Figured I wouldn’t want to hang with the legend: William Murderface just cuz the rest of the guys aren’t here? Get the fuck outta here, goofy!” She nudged him in the ribs. “You wanna party? Let’s go party!”

Before he could respond she was dragging him back to the drummer’s room. “Just lemme change and we can be on our way. What’re ya thinkin? Dive bar? Upscale joint? Karaoke?” He was overwhelmed already, internally questioning how Pickles could tolerate this ball of enthusiasm on a regular basis.

She dumped the contents of the backpack on the drummer’s bed observing the pile as if even she wasn’t sure what all she’d stuffed inside. “We could go hang with some bikers. I brought my leather pants!” Venus exclaimed, clutching the pair to her chest, expressing aloud how ecstatic she was to be able to fit them again.

William propped himself against the wall with his shoulder, defeated in his quest to disappoint the woman. He supposed this was fine. It was a rare occurrence for him to feel welcome. Why not make the best of it? “Well there’sch thisch bar in Shcotla… what are you doin’ there?” He asked as Venus spritzed her curls.

“Hm? Oh, ya see with hair like mine or Abigail’s, it gets dry faster than say, Skwisgaar’s. So I have this handy little mixture of conditioner and water to keep the ‘fro in check.” She’d gotten accustomed to explaining these things due to her favorite stoner’s curious nature and lack of self-maintenance on what hair he had left.

“Condishioner?”

She rolled her eyes. “Willy, come on. Even good ol’ boys have conditioner.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking!” She turned to him, her mouth agape. A slight headshake led her to begin plotting. “Come here.” She waved him over.

“Why?” William grew defensive again. Venus tapped on the trigger of the spray bottle and imitated the spritzing sound effect. “What? Why would I wanna do that?” He inquired.

She shrugged, going back to her own routine. “You get a lot of shit for your hair, don’tcha?” He couldn’t disagree. “But hey, you won’t catch me upset about being able to save on product, so to each their own.” She chuckled, scrunching the spirals to her liking and going back to mumbling to herself. “Kind of a ponytail night…”

He spoke up, his interest piqued by the open options. “What’sch the big deal? Doesch it feel that different?”

Venus grabbed his wrist and patted his hand against her mane, having him compare the sections she’d worked on against the rest. “I’d say so, wouldn’t you?”

The bassist found himself relaxing again. “Alright. I’ll try it.” He agreed, with less hesitation in his voice. “But this doeschn’t mean I’m schome nancshy boy, ok? You get that thought outta your head, if that’sch what your angle isch!” He reminded her with a threatening index finger.

Venus snickered, motioning for him to have a seat on the bed. “Lemme ask you somethin’, Murderface. What exactly constitutes homosexuality? To you? How can you‘tell’ someone’s gay?” She humored his admittedly irritating notions as she begun attempting to part his hair.

“Well that’sch obviousch!” William rolled his eyes; confident he had the world figured out. “You alwaysch see those dudesch with their fancshy clothesch and their two-hundred dollar haircutsch. Never wanna get their nailsch dirty.” He listed off.

“So Offdensen?” She teased.

“No! Not Offedenschen! I mean- I don’t think scho. No, like thosche pretty boy asscholesch with tight pantsch!” He attempted to specify.

“Skwisgaar and Toki then?”

“Nooo! Or maybe! I don’t fucking know what those Schcandinavian baschtardsch do when no one’sch lookin’!” He shuddered at the thought.

“Nate’s pants are pretty tight. You think he’s gay?” Venus giggled, working the leave-in spray through the dehydrated mass atop his head.

“Ok, no, Nathan’sch not gay.”

“Why isn’t Nathan gay?”

“Cuz he likesch pusschy!”

“Skwisgaar likes pussy more than anyone I’ve ever met.” Venus countered.

“He’ll fuck anything that movesch.” William noted.

“You are dangerously close to understanding my point, bud.” Venus giggled.

“What are you talking about?!” He sighed in exasperation.

Venus attempted again to run the comb through his hair with only the slightest avail. “Alright, hear me out. You know who else likes pussy and women in general?” He gave her a questioning gesture. “Yours truly.”

“Ok grossch, too much informatschion.” He noted. “But you’re dating Picklesch which obviouschly meansch-”

“I get more now than ever in my life because the boy’s a master of the ménage. You are correct, sir!” She said cheekily. “But I also love my little Irishman.”

Murderface raised an auburn brow, grunting slightly as she struggled with her task. “Scho you don’t do threeschomesch just becausche he wantsch you to?”

“No, dude. I wanna bang who I wanna bang and I don’t worry about what’s in their pants until I get there. And then, I’ll happily make use of whatever awaits me.” Venus smirked. “Hell Nona’s mostly a lesbian. So’s Abigail. Nathan is an outlier for a lot of girls I know...” She trailed off, distracted by pondering why that may be.

“So what’sch your point?” He huffed.

“I’m saying your sexual identity is based on who you wanna have sex with. It’s that easy. For some of us it can be anyone. For some of us it’s none. And you can’t be 100 percent sure who likes what unless an individual tells you. So knock off that stereotyping shit.” She threatened with a tug at his hair.

He shrugged. “I just have a sixschth schensche about thesche thingsch.”

“We call that gay-dar. It tends to be a lot more effective when used by our kind.” She snorted, spraying his locks again.

“Agh, don’t schay ‘our’ kind! Feelsch like you’re lumping me in with ‘em.”

“I wasn’t. But if the shoe fits.”

“I don’t think I appreschiate the inschinuation.”

“Again, I’m not doing anything. Maybe you’re projecting?” He cast a furious gaze her way. “And whether that is or is not the case, who. the hell. cares? Honestly, what business is it of mine or yours what anyone does with another consenting adult?”

William sat in silence for a bit as she worked away at his unruly mane. He pondered many deep-seeded thoughts he had never confronted before. “Scho if I thought a man was…”

No sooner than he parted his lips, a nasal voice called into the room. “Oh look at that, I didn’t know anybody else was here. Venus, babe, how the hell are ya? Murderface, what are we doin? Getting a makeover?” Dick enthusiastically approached; shutting down any revelations the bassist may have been coming to.

“Knubbler! Hi, doll! Long time no see!” Venus turned giving him a peck on each cheek once he reached her.

Murderface returned to his defensive posture, annoyed with the new presence. “What are you even doing here? We don’t have any schesschions today.” He pointed out in a grumble.

“Well ya see, I woke up on the recording room floor, figured it was a good night and thought you guys might wanna hang again! Maybe get some sushi, hit the bar. What do you say?” The engineer suggested.

Venus gasped, finally finagling the wide-tooth comb through a portion of William’s knots. “Great minds think alike! That’s why I’m here too. But everyone bailed on us.”

Knubbler gave her a set of finger guns. “Well it’s your lucky day. I can take you to one of my favorite places since nobody is here to object. Bright lights, beautiful people, the whole nine yards, babe!” He trusted she’d be in full agreement. They had similar tastes based on some of their previous chats.

“Excusche me, I might fuckin’ object!” Murderface turned; offended by the assumption he shared their affinity for the club scene.

“Aw come on, Dick’s cool! He’ll show us a good time. Old timers always know the best spots!” Venus goaded the brunet.

The man’s robotic eyes flashed red. “Hey who are you callin’ old? I’ll have you know, I can run circles around you and everybody else! I’m a fifth of vodka in right now and you wouldn’t even know it!”

Venus giggled at the notion. “Sounds like something old man Pickles would say too.”

After a heated battle with William’s coif and a few skincare pointers, the three of them found themselves in the deth limo, a bottle of champagne passing between them.

“So what’s the scoop, Knubbles? The suspense is killing me.” Venus questioned, hoovering a line off the mirrored tray to her left.

“This place is fucking amazing. Drinks are a little pricier these days than I’d like, but what are you gonna do, right?” He chuckled.

Murderface shook his head. “You’d better hope scho. If it’sch lame, you two can say goodbye to your inschtant accessch passch.”

“Grumpy, grumpy. Here, put some more liquor in you and get chipper, motherfucker!” Venus slurred lightly.

“Hot girls are instant access either way, Willy. Don’t worry about us.” Dick added on. “And if you need a pick-me-up, I know a guy.”

“Awwww, Dick, you sweetheart.” She waved a hand at him coyly as the vehicle came to a stop.

They stood outside the disco, gazing up at the neon sign. William fiddled with his wavier ‘do, suddenly worried about his appearance. He wasn’t one to dress for this environment, after all. “Just relax. You look great, man.” Venus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder before they journeyed inside.

Dick teleported to the bar, making a shady transaction beneath a napkin as he ordered a round for the three of them. He waved William and Venus over for extra hands.

Climbing into an empty booth, Dick displayed the napkin in his half-closed hand. “This shit will make you have a good time whether you want to or not.” He grinned.

A weary Venus motioned for him to slide her the thin paper. The small pouch wrapped inside contained 10 blue pills with tiny dolphins stamped on the sides. “Ohh. Good. This I can work with.” She nodded in approval.

“What? What isch it?” William leaned over to get a better view.

Venus removed a pill from the bag and gave him a closer view. In a loud whisper she informed him. “It’s ecstasy. You should take it.” She handed him the drug with a big grin. “Thanks, by the way, Dick. You didn’t have to do all this.”

Knubbler shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a nice guy.” He boasted, tossing three of the pills into his mouth. The younger pair stared in awe. “Hey I don’t keep up, I do laps.”

Thirty minutes later and William felt himself loosening up. Of course he’d experimented with many things over the years, but X wasn’t really his forte. Call him old school, but booze and coke was a failsafe combo. No need to complicate things, to hear him tell it.

He panicked as he slipped the cocktail waitress a five and felt the fibers slide from between his fingers. Venus and Dick stifled laughter. “Hey you two schut the fuck up. Thisch is your fault!” He whined.

“No, no, Willy, babe. We’re not laughing atcha. It’s just a happy high. Come on, let’s go dance!” Knubbler bounced in his seat as the electronic bass bumped.

“I don’t dansche.” Murderface insisted.

Venus slid him her cup of water. “Come on! You pretty much gotta on this stuff. Look.” She pointed to a woman lurking near the dance floor. “She’s not having the time of her life. Let’s go change that.” She insisted, grabbing a hold of William’s hand and tugging lightly. “My friends pull ass when we go out. You’re not exempt.”

Murderface sighed, downing the remainder of the water and succumbing to the excess energy and peer pressure. What was new? He wondered to himself as they approached the colorfully lit tiles.

Dick immediately went into disco king mode, doing the hustle into the bustling crowd and leaving the metalhead and his tormentor to fend for themselves. Venus shrugged, offering a hand to Murderface. “If ya can’t beat ‘em, join em!” She cheered, urging the bassist to twirl her.

The lonesome looking woman flashed Venus a smile, seemingly amused with her dramatics. She was a bit older, dressed in business casual wear. Venus motioned for her to join them in their awkward boogying. She initially declined, but Murderface, now fully immersed in his high, trapped her in an air lasso. The woman hid a shy grin behind her hand as she hopped toward them, allowing herself to be pulled by the imaginary rope.

Venus took the opportunity to spin both of them, taking her cues from the confident blonde across the room. “Ok! I see y’all” She cheered them on as the woman showed William her adorably dorky robot. He countered with the sprinkler earning hoots and hollers from fellow patrons nearby. The crowd loved the silly display, starting a wave of all the best throwback moves. And all hell broke loose as the DJ caught wind of the group activities and slowed it down for the electric slide.

A few younger adults stood in confusion. “What’s wrong? Never been to a wedding before, kiddos?” Knubbler attempted to spur them into action. Venus ran to the front of the group of 20-somethings and helped them get the hang of things. It was quite the show to behold.

By the end of the line dance, the bar was in a happy uproar, requesting more oldies and running on nostalgia fuel. Knubbler downed a water and got back to work, while Venus stopped by the shy pair to announce she was going for a smoke break. “Oh wait, me too.” The woman chuckled.

“Me three!” Murderface, followed, needing the fresh air more than anything.

“So what brings the infamous William Murderface to a place like this?” The gruff-voiced woman queried in the quieter smoking area.

William repeatedly failed to work his zippo as he tried to formulate a response.

Venus stepped in, lighting everyone’s cigarettes for them. “Everyone likes a night on the town. And nobody likes the same old, same old all the time.”

“Yeah, what sche schaid.” William pointed a thumb at his slightly more social comrade.

The woman brushed choppy blonde bangs out of her face, enjoying the cooler night air on her forehead. “You’re right. I’m getting too old for this myself. But it had been a while since I made a public appearance so here we are.” She motioned to her surroundings. “The two of you don’t strike me as 808 fanatics though.”

Murderface leaned against the railed enclosure. “Fuck no we’re not. Thisch was all Knubbler’sch idea. Just makin’ the bescht of a bad schituatschion.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh shush, Murderface. We’re having fun! You can’t pretend you’re not. Was that the lawnmower I saw back there?” Venus teased.

“Ok, ok, schut it.” He chuckled lightly, releasing a small smoke cloud.

“And you’re the drummer’s girl, right? Sorry, I’ve just seen you in the tabloids.” The woman clenched her teeth, worried she was saying too much.

Venus chuckled, squatting down to the woman’s eyeline. “They still don’t know who I am? What a drag. I was hoping to be a household name by now.” She giggled. “Yes I am the not-so-mysterious ‘Yorko Ono’ here to ruin the band or whatever tripe they’re sellin’. My government is Venus.” She offered the woman her hand.

“Marta.” The woman shook Venus’s hand. Murderface leaned over the table and received a shake as well. Boy, was her grip strong. Murderface waved his hand, silently cursing at his now sore fingers.

“Nice to meet you, Marta.” Venus smiled, forcing herself not to laugh at poor William��s crushed bass-playing hand. “And if ya don’t mind me pointing it out, you don’t look much like one for the disco yourself.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not.” She chuckled, taking another hit. “It’s my little sister’s birthday and she lives for this shit. I’m more for the beer drinkin’ than the booty shakin’.” She said with a matter-of-fact tone.

“What do you normally lischten to then?” William chimed in.

“Hmm... Thrash. Though I guess I don’t look the type for that these days either.” She raised devil horns with a sinister grin.

Venus squealed in excitement, internally of course. She was determined to hook them up now. “A thrash gal, huh? Who’s your favorite?”

“Fucking Exodus. Holy crap man, I saw them in ’89 and I’ve been in love since.”

“The Fabulousch Dischastour?!” William chimed in excitedly. “Fuck, man, that schit was fucking aewschome!” He sat next to her and proceeded to gush about the bands he saved up for or snuck in to see in high school. Venus flicked her cigarette into the ashtray and quietly departed, convinced her work there was done.

A few hours passed and the younger squadron of dancing machines tracked down team mom Marta, who’d been chatting up Murderface all night. Venus sloppily knocked back a jack and coke as she approached the table to check on her match-making project.

“We’re ready to hit the next spot. Are you coming?” A long-haired woman questioned Marta.

Venus watched Marta’s eyes dart between the girl she assumed was the aforementioned little sister and her new friend. “Actually I was thinking I might head out. But I’m glad you invited me!”

The birthday girl cheerfully waved her off, giving her friends a suggestive smirk about the whole scenario once she was out of her sister’s sight.

Knubbler approached, sweaty and still raring to go. “Where to next, VR?”

She looked at the incoming call on her phone. “Ahh, I’m being summoned!” Venus flailed about, excited to see her beau but also in desperate need of updates on the William and Marta situation. She answered Pickles’ call. “Babe ohmygod, this is too cute, you need ta see it! I’m not drunk, you’re drunk! I mean yeah I am but thass irrelevant!”

She fluxuated between swears and giggles as one of the klokateer’s threw her over his shoulder, holding the phone to her chest as she screamed back to her small posse. “Go on without me! Remember me, brothersss!”

Marta chuckled waving to the excitable woman. “It was nice meeting you, Venus!”

“Nice meetin’ you, you won’erful badass of a lady! Be safe ok, I love you guys dearly!!” Her words faded out as she was carried away. “Dick, you’re my hero! Murderface, be good! Marta! I know we jus’ met but be my first child’s godmother!” Venus shouted holding onto the doorframe. “Alas, I must go!” She shouted in defeat as she was pried away for the night.

A month later, Venus was en route to Mordhaus giddy over a text from her bassist pal. He seemed to be much more cheerful than usual.

“Yeah he hasn’t been around much dese past few weeks, but dat can’t be why!” Pickles asserted.

“You’re just awful!” Venus snorted, attempting not to laugh aloud and encourage the drummer’s shit talking. “Be nice to your band mate. Also, I have no reason to lie. Look!” She shoved her phone toward his face.

“Yeah I really feel like Marta gets me. Hell, I think I get myself more now. Thanks for the assist, bro.” And so it read.

He lowered the phone. “You tryin’ ta tell me dis chick was haht, single, inta metal, AND interested? In fuckin’ Murderface? Yer fuckin’ with me. Or you must’ve passed out and dreamt dat shit up!” Pickles shook his head in disbelief, pulling her into his lap.

“You’ll see when we get there! I didn’t even black out! I remember everything.” She settled into her place atop the cozy redhead’s thighs, examining the small image on her finger. A devil emoji. “Except the part where you convinced me to do this, you ass.” Pickles snickered at the thought, recalling the actual events of her threatening to personally torture a series of klokateers if one of them didn’t come forth and admit to any tattooing experience.

“Yep. Dat’s my bad. You betcha.” He rolled his eyes.

Once inside, Marta excitedly ran to hug Venus at the door. “Long time no see!”

Venus returned the excited embrace. “So what’s the scoop, girl? Will I be seeing you around these parts more often?”

“Oh, about that. I mean yeah, but not for… ah what was it you call it? Murderface-sitting?” Marta chuckled. Before Venus could ask any more, she summoned over a blonde man. He sported a septum ring and a series of lovely art pieces on his arms. “Venus, this is my brother, Max.” Venus stared at the man, mildly perplexed as she shook his hand. “We’re twins, biologically and in spirit.”

Murderface approached the huddle. “’Schept he can do tattoos and piercingsch, so technically he’sch the cooler twin.” He joked.

“You dick!” Marta laughed, punching the bassist in the arm.

Venus finally managed to read the room. “Oh… OH! Well I am psyched to meet you Max!” She retried her handshake. “And welcome to the gang!” She winked.

“Nice to meetcha. And thanks.” Max said, happily accepting the pleasantries.

Marta clasped her hands together. “Well! Now that intros are out of the way, I actually have a few errands to run, so I have to get goin’.” She apologized for not being able to hang for longer.

“Oh next time for sure!” Venus smiled waving her off.

“Well, an ass beatin’ on wheelchair bound is callin’ your name, motherfucker!” Max bragged, turning to the bassist.

“Oh you’re fuckin on, dude!” William shouted, flashing the pair a genuine smile as Max pulled him away.

Venus swooned as she and Pickles made their way down the castle’s corridor. “Must be spring. Love’s in the air.”

Pickles blinked at her in confusion. “Arite maybe I’m missin’ sumthin. Dat chick just bailed. Whut’s so lovey-dovey about dat?”

She turned to him with a sigh. “I… am not at liberty to say. Not our business what two consenting adults do.” The short girl smirked, placing a light tap at the tip of his nose.

“No, wait, wut da fuck am I not getting’ here?” Pickles whined.

“He’s my boyfriend, you fuckin’ dumbassch!” Murderface shouted down the hall.

“Yeah, ya fuckin’ dumbass.” Venus snickered throwing her beanie in the speechless Pickles’ face.

“Ohhhh!” Pickles had a laugh at his own expense. “Well good fer him!”

#metalocalypse #fanfiction #mtl #william murderface #sorry it's so long!#i always get carried away lol #i just wanted to write my son being a happy boi

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izzy-b-hands · 6 years

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Årsgång På Metall-Chapter One

Finally writing a Dethklok fic based off of/in relation to my love of the game Yearwalk (and Swedish folklore in general.)

This wasn’t gonna be multi-chapter, and I should probably really post it to AO3 too (maybe later) but here we are.

Skwisgaar/Toki. SFW (some mention of kissing and wanting to make out only lol) for now, might get NSFW later, will mark as appropriate as we go along.)

And yes, the title is kind of silly and cheesy and in Swedish. That’s just a bit of goofy fun for me (that technically doubled as Swedish practice, lol.)

Toki could admit when things were bad. When they had sunk their teeth into a bad idea, and were clinging to it too tightly, like a scared dog bloodying its gums to hang onto a familiar toy.

Not out loud, maybe, but to himself, he could admit it. And this felt like a bad idea.

It was all to get inspiration for a new album–something mystical and dark and “creepy as fuck” per Nathan’s demands. They’d all fumbled into various topics to find something good: Nathan and Pickles and Murderface dove into American urban legends and cryptids like they’d been researching them all their lives. He’d picked through books about Norwegian folklore, but hadn’t found anything in particular he wanted to use. Besides, Skwisgaar was having plenty of luck with Swedish folklore.

Almost too much, actually.

That was, he seemed obsessed. It had reached a point where Toki couldn’t get him to do much else other than research, albeit with his guitar balanced in his lap, the strings occasionally lightly plucked with a new melody Skwisgaar had been working on constantly. It sounded old, and almost…folksy. Like something he might have heard at a festival back home.

Still, Toki would sit beside him and read through the Swedish as quickly as he could (not as quickly as Skwisgaar could, unfortunately), trying to figure out what pieces of research Skwisgaar might be using or discarding.

Because he didn’t share, of course. Toki could ask as many times and in any language he liked, but got nothing.

Until the week of Christmas, the week before they were due to share all that they’d found and how they wanted to use it or how they’d already tried to do so.

He should have known Skwisgaar’s breakthrough would happen just as he was heading off to bed. Toki was almost comfortable, almost ready to turn out the lights and get what passed for decent sleep among them, when Skwisgaar came racing through his bedroom door.

“I has it. Nathans ams goings to love it, once I has it all finisheds,” Skwisgaar whispered fiercely, his face lit up by the small lamp Toki had yet to turn off. The light was on a low table; its tendrils reached up to claw at the sharp angles of Skwisgaar’s face, making him look ghostly and menacing.

Toki turned off the light and turned over. Let the asshole sit in the dark and talk to him as he fell asleep. If he wanted to share, he should have done it sooner. Now Toki was actually tired; he would have killed someone to get some sleep.

“The planes leaves now, gets up!” Skwisgaar tugged at his arm until he fell out of bed onto Skwisgaar’s boots.

Not his usual boots. Snow boots.

“Planes to wheres, somewheres you lets me sleeps?” Toki grumbled as he picked himself up.

Skwisgaar tilted his head. “Maybes. I ams goings to needs you awakes for parts of this.”

“What ams ‘this’?” Toki asked as Skwisgaar grabbed him by the arm again and dragged him out of his bedroom and down the hall.

He barely concerned himself with the Klokateers that dressed him in winter gear as they boarded the Dethjet, pulling a sweater over his bare chest and shoving his feet into a pair of snow boots. He was far more concerned with getting an answer to his question. It was creepy, seeing Skwisgaar like this–he didn’t get this hyped up for much except their music. But his guitar was packed away in a travel case, still at his feet, not in his arms where it should have been. It was wrong.

“I figures out the best ways to get inspirations for the albums,” Skwisgaar finally said once they were in the air. “Charles does not evens knows yet.”

And that seemed to be true. Charles wasn’t there, and it seemed like he should be–or at least, he should have seen them off, like he would normally. Again, wrong, wrong, wrong–enough to make Toki’s head hurt.

“There ams a ritual things,” Skwisgaar continued, almost out of breath with excitement it seemed, his eyes gleaming. “Theys evens makes a video games out of its.”

“So we ams goings somewheres to plays it?” Toki asked, letting himself hope for a moment this wasn’t something even more Wrong.

“No,” Skwisgaar replied. “I plays it already. It ams fun, very goods, but not enoughs. I must do the real things.”

At that, Toki physically shook his head. Now they were entering an even more dangerous realm–Stupid and Wrong. Especially since it seemed like only a few Klokateers knew where they were, and no one else knew what they were going to do.

Then again, Toki didn’t really know that yet either. And it was unsettling to not know, made all the worse by how…un-Skwisgaar-like Skwisgaar was acting like. He had no other words for it, not other way to describe the twist in his gut as Skwisgaar started to detail the ritual.

Apparently, it could change in bits and pieces by region, but Skwisgaar’s research had led him to some similarities that he was planning to follow.

It had to be performed on Christmas Eve or New Years Eve.

“I ams doing it on New Years. Wes go nows so I can prepares everythings,” Skwisgaar explained when Toki raised a hand to protest leaving so early and missing Christmas.

It had to be done alone.

“Yous will be theres to make sure I makes it back where we ams stayings,” Skwisgaar said. “I don’t trusts the others guys–they will ruins it.”

There was a rush of adrenaline and a flush to his face at that. To be the only one Skwisgaar trusted with this–something so clearly important to him–was a heavy but welcome responsibility.

It was a very old, archaic form of divination, considered by some to be rather complex. Yet there wasn’t anything banning anyone from undertaking the ritual. But it was dangerous–you could see good things, bad things, run into past and previous versions of yourself, or be ensnared by various creatures from other bits of folklore–and they could do some awful or at least strange things to you.

“I ams not worrieds,” Skwisgaar said. “I cans does this.”

He even flipped his hair over his shoulder with that, the damned drama queen. Toki couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull that hair or braid it, for a chance to get close to Skwisgaar one last time in case of…whatever might be waiting for him out there.

He ended up braiding it when Skwisgaar flopped on the floor of the plane with a book in his hands–another book on folklore, of course. Skwisgaar didn’t even seem to notice when Toki joined him, and pushed him up so he could gain access to the tangled blond hair.

Toki wanted to be mad. Could count every reason to be mad, to shout and demand they turn around. This was stupid, and dangerous–he could be honest with Skwisgaar on that, the innate understanding that even if no one really followed much of the old folklore anymore, there was still a respect for it, and boundary lines to be carefully kept. Or at least, that was the case in Toki’s experience.

But Skwisgaar was so excited. He held his hand tight as they walked off of the plane, to a waiting car with the trunk full of their luggage, to a truck with snow tires that carried them to their final destination.

A cabin. Old enough to remind Toki of home-though this was notably more of an actual home, considering his parents’ cabin in Norway hadn’t even had a proper bed for him most of the time, just a bit of hay tossed onto the floor and a rough blanket. Only a few modern additions had been made–electricity that must have been an absolute horror to wire out, and running water. Otherwise it was just them, their luggage and supplies, and the knowledge that they were on the edge of something strange and mystical.

No Klokateers.

No Charles.

None of the other guys.

If he weren’t so scared Skwisgaar might not make it back home, it would have been a dream vacation.

And Skwisgaar was still odd– much more cuddly than usual in front of the fireplace, letting Toki press kisses to his face, his lips, the tips of his cold, long fingers. It was nice, but it could have been better. It was just so evident that Skwisgaar’s mind was on the task at hand, which was precisely what Toki wanted to distract him from. With kisses and threats to pick up his guitar and play (”don’ts you evens dares”) and pulling the books out of his hands to force him to pay attention to something, anything else.

It worked, in bits and pieces. But he always bounced back to the Årsgång. Even as Christmas Eve and Day passed with no mention, though Toki realized acutely how quickly time was moving towards New Years Eve.

“Maybe I will sees you,” he mumbled their second night there, as they curled in front of the fireplace. “Wonders what you wills be doings, in the futures.”

Toki resisted the urge to say ‘you.’ “Playings in the bands. Sames as yous.”

Skwisgaar shrugged. “Yeah. But whats else? We amn’ts always playings.”

“You almost always ares,” Toki replied. No sense in calling a horse anything other than a horse, if they were going to sit in this space of weird but welcome vulnerability and honesty.

Skwisgaar nodded. “Trues. Maybes we wills be celebratings the new album. Wes can comes back here, takes a vacations away from those dildoes.”

It was nice and quiet without the other guys. Nicer still to have Skwisgaar to himself, even if the circumstances were strange. He tried to focus on that, to will Skwisgaar to see it on New Years Eve when he’d be out wandering among the ghosts and grims in the woods–them, sitting in the cabin in a few months, playing and wandering the woods and making out like stupid horny kids with nothing better to do. No worries, no rituals, and nobody else to distract them.

He tried to dream of it that night, but only got nightmares. Ones where Skwisgaar bloodied his hands to the bone trying to get back in through the cabin door that Toki couldn’t open no matter how hard he tried, forced to listen to Skwisgaar being dragged away by something unseen. Ones where he woke up on New Years Day and waited desperately into the next day, the next week, the next month, only for Skwisgaar never to return. Ones where Charles would come searching for them, only to find Skwisgaar frozen in the forest. Ones where he was left alone, and the other guys would never understand what had happened or why and would only be mad at him for letting Skwisgaar die.

He held Skwisgaar tight, and checked his dethphone over and over again, whenever he woke, for the date: 26 December. There was still time.

Time to convince him not to do it.

Time to try and memorize every inch of his face and body.

Time to try and pretend like everything was going to be fine.

When it all still felt so very, very Wrong to let Skwisgaar do this, even if it was for the album.

#text post #Alyssa writes #Dethklok fanfic #Skwisgaar/Toki #Poor Toki he's doing his best #trying to be so supportive #also I didn't edit this quite as much as I wanted #but I'm happy with it for now lol #I just really want to post so I can get the second chapter started and keep this one going

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