Okay, I did the last pinch hit for the Exchange, for Snartha!! One of her requests was Mustakrakish, and that sounded fun, so here we go! Had to redraw it a lot though, whoah. And I hope in the future to color it. UvU I hope you like it. UvU x2
(Opening it in a new window will make the image less blurry and gross, wow.)
And with this we are all done with the Exchange aside from the comic I need to finish. Thanks again to everyone that participated! It was really awesome to see what everyone did for someone else.
Other Tags: Pre Deth-klok, Homeless!Toki, College Au Abigail, Slight Post-Doomstar towards the end.
Summary:Â Abigail is in the prime of her college career when sheâs selected to be a part of the psyche departmentâs annual research and survey experimentation period. While being in charge of handing out a survey one little homeless Toki Wartooth wanders in, having found a flyer that advertised free food for taking place in the surveys. One time isnât much of an issue, but what happens when Toki wanders in to Abigailâs section every day?
Since Tumblr kinda sucks for my large page comics, you can see them all here at full size!
Description: After taking some new drugs, Pickles, during the height of his fame in Snakes ânâ Barrels, has a weird trip where he sees the sad lives of some childrenâŠ
Warnings: For some light violence and Skwisgaarâs momâs ass for 3 panels.
OKAY, hereâs the first half of my gift for Marin! Sorry itâs not 100% done but I promise it will be sometime this month or at least start of next month. (Thereâs like 7 or 8 pages leftâŠ)
The idea was actually originally Packstrapâs, but she got too busy to really start it so I took up the mantle. Where is this story of sad children going? Is it only gonna get sadder? Stay tuned and find out, dear viewers.
(Please note this was my first time drawing cocaine, Snakes n Barrels and alligators. I think I partially succeeded at all three.)
And day 19! When I complete it, or update with more pages, I'll reblog here, too. There's still 3 gifts I'm waiting for to be sent in, so stick around and look for those!
Okay so there's 4 gifts we're waiting on now, one of them needed an extension, one of them I need to find a pinch hitter, one I'm waiting to hear about, and the other is from me, who got a late start on it and I'm only about half done. I'll probably post what I have tomorrow and continue on it later. But we'll probably be waiting a couple weeks until the Exchange-A-Rooni is finished.
But I just want to say right now that the gifts that have been given out so far have been amazing, and I really hope everyone liked what they received! And I hope everyone in general has enjoyed following the Exchange-A-Rooni! Stayed tuned for a little bit more, but I just really wanted to give my gratitude to those that participated.
Iâve been excited about posting this for a while now.Â
This is my Exchangerooni gift for MEG.Â
NOTE: Tumblr is being really lame with sizes, even though I saved them all the same width.
One of the pairings she REQUESTED for was Pickles/Skwisgaar and I thought that one needed to be tackles since theyâre probably the two character that interact the least with each other on the show.
Another aspect she listed was deep platonic bonds and characterâs needing each other.
So I did Skwisgaarâs interview to join Dethklok.
I really believe that Pickles was a little bit more of the driving force when it came to getting the band started. Heâs a pretty well rounded musician, and was probably the one who wanted to seek Skwisgaar out to join the band.
Other than foot ball and dissecting frogs, not really is said much on Nathanâs  childhood, but I think Pickles and Skwisgaar can relate when they say that music was their saving grace.
That despite all there addictions (Be it drugs, or sex) Music has always been the most soothing remedy, or maybe itâs just the most addicting of all.
I think thatâs where there bond is, through the music, because Skwisgaar really is a man a very little distinguishable words and speaks through his music, and I think Pickles gets that more than anyone.
Hope you like it!Â
It was a lot of fun :)
No post today, mostly because I was too busy today, haha. There will be a post in the following 2 days, but I'm waiting for gifts from 3 people, so if you guys see this, please get them to me as soon as possible. Thanks!
Title: Greeks Bearing Gifts
Rating: R for sexy stuff, consensual violence (D/sish relationship), language
Pairings/Characters: Abigail Remeltindric/Dick Knubbler, William Murderface
Summary: Knubbler doesnât half ass things, especially not birthdays. But most of the stuff he buys for Abigail is stuff he enjoys, too. Meanwhile, all Murderface wants to talk about is sweaters. Equal parts sexual dominance and fluff.
To: Dethharmonic
From: blkbrry
MOD NOTE: Dethharmonic had preferred Art over Fic but I ran out of artists, but once I have time I plan to draw some Abigail/Dick so you can look forward to that!
âDick, I feel like youâre not recognizing how important the schweater is.â
If Knubbler was honest, that wasnât an unfair assessment. It was late, he had wanted to finish up his work and skedaddle from the studio before anyone needed him to do something, but Murderface had slid in just as his data was only 91% onto his thumb drive. So now he was sitting here, eyes worth a couple million gazing on a fat bassist in oversized glasses and a sweater with cats on it.
William Murderface had only just learned what a hipster was, having used his laptop for something other than nude selfies for once, and what he had taken away from it was that as the least popular member of Dethklok, hipsters should love him. After all, Planet Piss was one of the most obscure bands on the planet. It hadnât put out a single song yet.
âThe schwetar schays Iâm indie! They eat that schit up! They want schomeone relatable! Schomeone unknown and fresh!â
The space around his implants was actually aching. That was a new one. Getting old sucked. âBabe, youâre part of a band with a higher GDP than most countries. Youâre not indie.â
âPlanet Pisch is indie! Iâve never schigned any rights away to the man!â
Heâd tried, though. Knubbler had been there. He was lucky he was still allowed back in the Crystal Mountain Records building. Murderface was banned from a five mile radius around it.
âLook, you drive a hard bargain, Dick. You can have two perchent of the revenue on the firscht album, okay?â
The producer was honestly going to explain to him why this was a terrible idea until he spotted the time on the recording console and gave a start. âFuck, Iâve gotta go!â
âGo?! We juscht schtrated!â
âWillie, look, call my assistant, book a time tomorrow, yeah babe?â He snatched the thumb drive out and stood up, at leasting sparing the bassist a pat on the shoulder. âIâve got an appointment that Iâm gonna be in shit for if I miss.â
âIâll make you a schweater, too! Final offer!â
That was possibly the nicest thing Murderface ever said to him, and Knubbler couldnât even appreciate it because he was sprinting down the long and onerous hallway to his apartment. Maybe she was working late, too, he prayed as he fumbled with the key pad on his door. He just needed a few minutesâŠ
âYouâre late,â came that sharp and clear voice. No such luck, then.
Abigail Remeltindric had made herself at home on his white leather sofa, a glass of chilled wine in her hand and a triple rope of pearls spaced with gold beads around her neck. Bottle and box were nearby, scarlet ribbons carelessly discarded on the floor.
âMurderface,â shrugged Knubbler as he closed the door. The single word answer to why his blood pressure was a couple notches higher than it ought to be. He came towards her to take a glass of wine for himself. âI see you found two of your presents.â
There was a crack and then a stinging pain on his neck that he clapped a hand to. Little bitchâŠ
âCorrection,â she smirked, crossing her legs. She had kicked off her heels but she still wore her pantyhouse and one of those great ass-hugging skirts she seemed to only bust out for him. In her hand was a long black bull whip, crafted from only the finest Italian leather. âI found three of my presents.â
âHey, watch it with that, huh? You almost put my eye out.â Abigail generally hated his stupid jokes, but that one made her smile at least. He managed to snag a glass and the wine bottle without getting another lick. âIâd ask which is your favourite so far, but I think thatâs pretty obviousâŠâ
âMmm, thereâs more?â She set her wine down to shimmy out of her pantyhose. They were starting to itch, and soon she wouldnât have much use for them. âAre you trying to turn me into a kept woman, Dick?â
âAll things considered, itâs more the other way around, heh? And I told you, babe, I donât half ass things. When Dick Knubbler commits, he follows through.â
He immediately regretted using that word, âcommitâ. Their relationship status was at best slightly murky. It had started as a friendship. Abigail had had a lot on her plate in the beginning, and they had worked together. They were both industry vets, they both loved music, and most importantly they were the only two people in the house besides the chef who werenât Dethklok or Gears.
And then one night, after too much wine Knubbler was over her desk and she had him by the hair. Not an entirely unpleasant experience for him, but definitely an indication that Ms. Remeltindric wasnât the put together public face sheâd had to be since Charles fucked off to pray in a volcano, leaving them on the hook with a series of instructive binders and his cell phone number that only got service a couple times a week on account of him being in a fucking volcano.
She had issues. He wasnât judging; he was full to the brim with them himself and he hadnât even been kidnapped by a homicidal cult lately. But she needed someone, and for the first time in his life Knubbler found himself being needed by someone who didnât want his money, his power, or his blood (well⊠sometimes she wanted his blood). And to his eternal surprise, he found he liked being needed.
She was better now. Whatever they had, it had deepened into something neither of them wanted to try to describe. Abigail said she didnât go with guys she worked with. Well, Crystal Mountain signed his checks, and as much as she loved sound she wasnât anywhere near the studio any more. So she justified it, just as Knubbler justified sleeping with a hot younger chick who knew how to press his buttons as being generous rather than lecherous.
It made them liars, maybe, but damned if they didnât have fun.
Celebrating a birthday, though, that went beyond fun and into relationship territory. They hadnât celebrated his, though that was because heâd had every record that said he was aging hidden from the public. Hers, though⊠Sheâd had a rough year. She deserved some gifts. And he deserved whatever flowed from those gifts. Heâd had a rough year, too.
That investment was starting to pay off when she rose, gently wrapping her arms around his neck, tilting her head up to look at her reflection in the glass lenses. Her eyes were gleaming as well. People told him they were turquoise, but he didnât see colours so great any more. âHow about you get those boots off? I donât like it when youâre taller than me.â
Knubbler resisted answering with a âYes, maâamâ as he undid the zippers and kicked them off. She hated stuff like that. Found it fake, juvenile. Didnât stop her from being bossy. Not that he blamed her for wanting control. After her ordeal, she no longer even liked tight necklaces.
But she loved it when someone elseâs neck was hers.
He removed his suit jacket as well, a little more careful with this. He folded it, put it over a chair back.
Abigail took the opportunity to come up behind him, now a few inches taller that he wasnât in his lifts that heâd worn for probably decades. She ran a hand through that fine blonde hair of his. It was getting longer, at her request. âSo, whereâs the rest of my gifts, hmm? So far Iâm not impressed with the old standards. Booze, pearls, fetish gear⊠Did you get the whip at Tiffanyâs, too?â
âHey, those are from Sothebyâs, babe. Theyâre like two hundred years old. A booklet came with them, itâs around her somewhereâŠSome duchess owned them, she killed a bunch of peasants.â
She sighed, removing the pearls and wrapping them instead about Knubblerâs pale neck, simultaneously tightening her grip and kissing the back of his head. âYou boys and your brutal artefacts.â
âYouâre one of the boys now, too, babe. In fact youâre our CFO.â The smooth pearls were digging against his windpipe. It was a great thought, being restrained in such a decadent manner. âDonât snap those, heh? They were pricey. Hit the limit on my Amex Platinum and everything.â
âGuess Iâll just have to find some way of making it up to you.â Her knee was in the small of his back now. God, she was stronger than she looked. Knubbler was starting to think that the managing position came with a physical training test. âNow how about you get the rest of your clothes off before I get impatient. Iâm going to go slip into something a little more comfortable.â She unwound the pearls from his neck, striding off to his bedroom.
Knubbler gulped down the rest of the wine, which was a waste considering what heâd paid for it, but she sounded scarier than usual tonight. Why the hell not, it was her birthday. Still, if he could numb it a little bit, wellâŠ
He was down to his red silk boxers when she finally came out all in black. Lacey panties and bra clung to her dark skin, the whip trailing after her like a snakeâs tail in one hand.
The producer tried to raise an eyebrow, which hadnât been easy since the accident. âYou keep your lingerie in my bedroom now?â
Abigail smirked. She looked so gorgeous when she did that for real. âApparently, unless these are yours?â She gave her new present an experimental snap.
âThat was one time in the eighties.â And possibly once more, but it didnât count if you didnât remember all of it, right? âI said be careful with that whip, itâs not a toy. Might have to take it back if youâre not grown up enough for it.â
âGo fuck yourself.â She was in his range again and lashed it out, though it missed him by a foot the crack made him flinch. âOr would you rather me do it for you?â She struck again.
That one got him in the arm pretty good and he hissed, eyes glowing red for a moment. And in that moment he saw a flash he hadnât seen in a long time. A flash of fear. Fear that he was mad, that he was somehow dangerous⊠For all her natural strength and sexual bravado, his Abby was still a pretty delicate woman in some places. But he could help.
âI donât know,â he smiled, green false pupils retracting to pinholes as he focused on her face. Looking for that come-back she always had. âSomeone who hits like a girl just might not be up to it.â
That worked a little too well, and he almost had the wind knocked out of him as she lunged at him, knocking them both over the arms of the couch. She straddled him, strong legs pinning his torso down and one hand grasping him by the scalp a little too hard. The hair, always with the hair⊠She was going to have him in a ponytail before too long if she didnât rip it out first. It was like she had a dog by the scruff.
She kissed him, and that was always weird. Dick had been on both sides of this whole dominance thing, though he much preferred being pinned to the couch. Less responsibility. Kissing, though, when you meant it⊠That was still a little different. How soft her lips were on his, the phantom sensations he got when his rims met skin. How tender she could be while she had a death grip on him.
Shit, maybe they were in a relationshipâŠ
That thought was interrupted because now she quite literally had him by the balls. He could feel the whip handle digging into his thigh and he gave a cry, though he kept his eyes green through sheer force of will, and the fact that he was, after all, enjoying it.
Abigail lowered her head, cheek touching his. âWhen I said get your clothes off, I meant get them all off.â She yanked his boxers down with ferocity. âYouâre terrible at following orders, even after all the practise weâve had.â
He couldnât help but smirk. âWhen the punishment feels this good, itâs hard to find the motivation to be a good boy.â
Another kiss before Abigail ditched her panties. She had blood on her hands from where the whip had licked him both on the neck and arm, though the arm was the deepest. Months ago this might have bothered her, but sheâd inflicted that wound. It was a little harsh on Knubbler, but she liked it. And he wasnât saying no. He rarely did. Lunatic.
The cyborg hissed a bit when she touched the wound, green dots expanding as he cringed. This made her smile softly. Hash, but so satisfying. She thought she might make a few more of those before the night was over, if heâd let her.
And he should. It was her birthday, after all.
Afterwards had always been rough on both of them. Neither had ever been in a relationship where snuggling was entirely appropriate yet neither of them wanted to reduce what they had to a bone and bolt. Usually it was awkward, but tonight⊠Tonight it felt pretty right.
The wine was warm, so Knubbler had mixed himself a double dirty martini and brought Abigail a beer, their usuals.
As he popped the twist top for her, trying to ignore his throbbing scalp, she noticed his arm was still bleeding. She probably should have noticed that by the huge smears of red on the white leather.
âI really got you good there,â she murmured, now more ashamed than anything. No wonder heâd gone red for a second.
âAw, nah, itâs nothing, babe,â he insisted, manually blinking for effect when she rose. âLeaving?â
âGetting you a bandage.â She had to rummage in his bathroom cabinet a bit, ignoring a couple of pill bottles with no labels, before finding his first aid kit. It was weird, walking around his apartment naked. Like she lived there.
Well, she did live in the same house⊠But it was different.
âItâs really not bad, babe,â repeated Knubbler, betraying his attempt at toughness when he hissed at the disinfectant she splashed on it. Despite surviving the loss of both of his eyes, it had done little for his pain tolerance. âThe couch is kinda gross, at least thatâll wipe clean⊠Probably going to want to have that whip cleaned, tooâŠâ
She wiped the cut off and carefully applied a bandage to it. It wasnât too deep, but she still felt bad. She added a kiss to it for good measure as she settled against him to drink her beer. âThere, nice and sterile.â
âFlorence Nightengale over here.â Heâd be lying if he said he didnât like it. Sitting here cuddled up to her, some good booze⊠Even sore and spent, he couldnât remember a time heâd felt this good without pharmaceutical intervention.
Well⊠Actually, he could, though he only remembered when he felt Abigailâs fingers on the brand on his chest. The first time heâd heard Dethklok.
âMy assistant thinks I should get one,â sighed the manager, tracing the outline of the gear seared into the pale flesh. Imagining how it would look on her own skin. âTo show commitment. Did it hurt?â
âI was still pretty doped on morphine from my surgery. I barely remember getting it, to be honest. Just the song⊠Donât get one if you donât want one.â Heâd gotten pretty good at reading through these conversations. âDid Charles call today?â
âYeah⊠He sounded like he wanted to come back.â She took a long swing of beer. âI kind of wish he would.â
âI kinda wish he would, too.â Knubbler blew a strand of hair out of his face. It was really getting longer. He didnât like it. It reminded him time was passing. âIâm thinking of getting my eyes altered soon. Take the red outta them.â He still wasnât sure why it set her off so much, but he was hardly attached to having twin mood rings on his face.
âYou donât need to do it for me.â She kissed the outer rim of the one closest to her. It was warm from the heat of the processors beneath. She didnât know if it was that or some lingering blood that left the not entirely unpleasant metallic taste in her mouth. âBut thank you.â
He honestly could have fallen asleep like that, but then he remembered what heâd been doing in the studio. âHeh, you forgot about the rest of your present, babe. Youâd make a bad interrogator.â He shifted her from his lap and ducked down, grabbing the square, thin wrapped package from under the couch. âHappy birthday.â
Abigail sighed, tearing at the paper. âYou really spent too much, Dick. Besides, itâs going to be pretty hard to beat the whip. WhatâŠâ As she pulled the record from the paper, she sat in stunned, naked silence. âThis isâŠâ
âMashed Potato Johnsonâs only recorded album. Steam Train Junction.â It was one of the rarest albums in existence. Less than a hundred had come off the press. Johnson had done some singles and been on other albums, but this was the only one all his own. Knubbler had always wanted a personal copy, but Abigail had lost her fatherâs copy years ago and she needed it more. âI transferred it to digital, too, and did some great restoration and isolation work on it, I think youâll be pretty impressed. As soon as I standardized the levelsâŠâ
He was silenced when she ran a hand through his hair kissed him, more fully than ever before. Maybe more fully than heâd ever been kissed. Despite its inspiration, it didnât feel like a bought kiss at all.
âThis album is the reason I went into the industry,â she whispered, holding his head with one hand and the record with the other. âI never thought Iâd⊠Where did you find it?â
âThe Internet, like everything else in life. Some guy in Oslo had it, and I had some test pressings from the nineties I didnât mind parting with. Itâs not that big of aâŠâ He looked down and immediately stopped humble bragging. âAw, jeez, Abby⊠Donât cry.â
âMânot crying,â she muttered as she took a swig of her beer. There had been only one tear; that wasnât crying. âAnd donât call me Abby. Unless you want more blood on the couch.â
He pulled her a little closer to him. He could do that much for her, at least. âMaybe we can set up a meeting with him, heh? The boys met him when they tried to sell their soul to the Blues Devil. I met him, too, actually, though a lot earlier.â
Abigail had gotten used to a lot of weird things but this one was new. â⊠Johnson or the Blues Devil?â
âEh, both, actually. Long story.â
â⊠You didnât sell your soul, did you?â
âNah, not my soulâŠâ
She was going to ask a follow up question before the door opened and suddenly Murderface was there, in a cat sweater, brandishing another sweater. This one had robots on it.
âSchee, I had them make you one, too!â he proclaimed with a beaming smile. âThisch isch gonna be the greatscht band ever!â
âWillie, uh⊠Having a little private time here, babe.â
Murderface only just seemed to notice the manager, who was attempting to shield herself with a throw pillow. âIâm not making her a schweater. We gotta have schome schtandards, Dick.â
Story Summary: With the atomic age long past, families rarely consist of a man, his wife, and their children. Some families still tend to slip into that dynamic, thoughâŠeven at Mordhaus.Â
Notes: This is my pinch-hit entry in Exchange-A-Rooni, written for tumblr user skelethal-boy. For the entry criteria, visit here.Â
Hey, guys, please remember not to post your entries early. I know it probably doesn't seem like much, but I don't want any one to be confused that post after you. Thanks a lot!
Untitled
SUMMARY: When Toki comes to in a warehouse after the incident at the funeral with Abigail, he reflects back on a moment in the past between him and Magnus that he should have clued him in on Magnus' true nature.
FOR: Chauna
FROM: Meg
When Toki came to in the warehouse basement, he didnât realize where he was at first. He fully expected to open his eyes and see his bedroom. After all, what happened with Magnus - that whole ugly ordeal at Roy Cornickelsonâs funeral - he could not imagine it as anything other than a nightmare.
Inevitably, he felt the deep, aching pain in his side where Magnus stabbed him, and he whimpered as he opened his eyes. His surroundings came into focus, and a chill set into his core as he scanned the damp, dark basement. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed upward in an expression of primal terror when he noticed that he was chained to the wall by his neck like a dog. He found himself in another punishment hole, and the man he thought of as a friend and confidant put him in there. He saw Abigail asleep (or perhaps unconscious, possibly even dead) on the floor beside him, but could not bring himself to concern himself with her. His thoughts raced and blurred â how could that possibly have been real; how could Magnus betray him like that after they had bonded so closely; what had he done to provoke such an attack? He clenched his hands and wept bitterly until he became so numb that all he could do was lie on the ground, staring into space and reflecting back on the events that led up to his current situation; where he could have gone wrong.
*****
About two weeks after Toki left Rockarooni Fantasy Camp, he received a phone call while the rest of the band took a âpost-recording napâ. It had been a while since he got a call from anybody. It had even been a while since the last time Dr. Rockso bugged him to get him out of some kind of trouble (or to get into some kind of trouble, for that matter). He wasnât in a particularly good mood that day. The band had returned to the grind, and the stress of finishing the new record affected all of them. Their old habits of pushing Toki around when things ran less than smoothly unfortunately resurfaced rather quickly, eclipsing the warmth and compassion they had felt and shown towards him the day they took him back to Mordhaus. He picked up his phone without looking at the part of the display that showed the caller.
âHellos?â
âHey, Toki! Howâs it goinâ, pal?â
Toki recognized Magnusâ raspy voice right away. âOh, hey Magnus! Iâms okays, I guess. We ams just tryings to finish the new record what ams to replace the one stupid Nathans destroyeds.â
Magnus snickered. âYeah, I heard about that. Guy never thinks of anyone but himself, does he?â
Toki frowned. He didnât think poorly of Nathan, not really, but at that moment, his instinctive side jumped eagerly at the chance to vent and to have someone commiserate. âYeah, and nots just him! Theyâs all selfish dickheads, they only cares abouts me when somebody else ams givings me trouble. Like I ams their properties or somethings.â
âHeh, believe me, I know. Theyâre not exactly an easy bunch to deal with. Iâm here to listen any time youâre havinâ trouble with âem,â Magnus sighed with a smirk on his face.
âThanks,â Toki sulked.
âAnyway, I wanted to ask, are you free any time soon? I mean, I know you probably arenât, what with the whole record thing and all, but I just had such a good time getting to know you at Rockarooni and having you in my band there, I figured it couldnât hurt to ask. I donât really see too much of anyone these days, and now that the campâs over, Iâm back to being lonely again.â
âI woulds loves to! The rest of the bands ams sleepings right now, probably goings to sleeps âtil night-time, so maybes we can hangs out this evening!â Toki gushed. After the day he had, it was nice to hear from someone who cared; someone who appreciated him.
âYeah, thatâs fine, any time is fine! I figure itâd be better if you came by my place, if thatâs possible.â
âYeah, sure! Iâll sees you ins abouts an hour or so?â
âHah, okay, see you then. Iâll text you my address. Bye, Toki.â
Toki hung up his phone and, once he received Magnusâ address, he called for a Klokateer to transport him to his place. Before he left, he jotted down a note telling the band not to worry in case they woke up before he got back.
Magnus lived in a dingy high-rise on a gritty, glass-littered street that seemed strangely non-threatening in the diminishing daylight, but would surely feel more ominous once night fell. He frowned, feeling badly for the former Dethklok guitarist but also worrying if someday the band would discard him and heâd end up somewhere similar. He weakly lifted his finger and rang the buzzer for Magnusâ unit.
âHello?â
âHey, I ams here now.â
âYouâre by yourself, right?â
âYep. It ams just mes,â Toki stated, figuring he was only asking because his apartment unit was not particularly accommodating.
âAll right,â Magnus said, pushing the button that automatically unlocked the outermost door for Toki.
As Toki stepped into the building, the smell of stale tobacco smoke and cheap laundry detergent mixed with a faint hint of rat piss flooded his nostrils immediately. Fighting the urge to cringe, he took the elevator up to Magnusâ unit and knocked on the door.
Magnus opened the door with a warm smile on his face. âHey, Toki. Come on in.â
Toki smiled and shuffled into the small apartment unit, pleasantly surprised to see that Magnus worked well with what he had, and did not live in the sort of squalor that the overall conditions of the complex suggested. The place still stunk, but his kitchen was clean, and his floors were tidy. His furniture, while plain, was arranged neatly, and he even had some artwork hanging on the walls.
âCan I get ya anything? Maybe a drink?â Magnus asked with his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. âMight help take your mind off all that stress youâre under.â
The younger manâs eyes lit up. âYes, please.â
Magnus opened his refrigerator and fixed Toki some vodka mixed with raspberry-flavored Seltzer water (it was all he ever saw the younger man order at the bar they had in the dining hall at Rockarooni), and grabbed himself a can of beer. âHere ya go, buddy,â he said, handing Toki his glass and sitting down beside him.
Toki took his drink from Magnus, smiling warmly. âThanks you.â He took a surprisingly large gulp from his glass. âThanks for invitinâs me over. It feels goods to gets away from the rests of the band,â he mused. âEven if this neighborhoods ams kind of a garbage can.â
The older man snorted at Tokiâs comment, not at all bothered by the crassness of it. âYeah, sorry about that. Guess you havenât been in a dump like this in a while, huh?â
Toki took another drink, nearly finishing the glass. âYeah, but please donâts thinks I ams spoileds like the others! Hey, maybe I can gives you some moneys, whats to buys a betters place to live!â
Magnus smirked. âI donât think your manager would be too happy about that. I appreciate the thought, though.â He genuinely appreciated the younger manâs kindness â it just wasnât what he wanted. If kindness were what Magnus wanted, he would have felt satisfied with the bandâs willingness to forgive him after he saved their rhythm guitarist from death by diabetic shock. âYouâre a good kid, Toki. I wish the others could see what they had. Maybe someday, they will.â Magnusâ one natural eye gleamed with warmth â and with something else that Toki couldnât quite place â as he said this. He glanced at the Norwegianâs glass, which was now empty. âYou want another drink?â
Toki nodded, mulling over Magnusâ words as the other man took the glass back to the kitchen and filled it back up. He watched the other mansâ movements, smiling without realizing it.
âHere,â he said, placing the glass back down on the tiny wooden coffee table.
âThanks,â Toki mumbled, picking it up and taking a sip. âYou knows, I really wants to thanks you agains for savings my life. I realliesâŠâ He paused, frowning slightly. âI reallies admires you for that.â
âHey, what else was I supposed to do in a situation like that, you know?â
Toki chewed his lip. âWhat happeneds to Ludwig after that? Did he gets in troubles?â
âWait, you mean you didnât see Nathan go after him? Nathan beat the shit out of him, you know how heâll jump at any excuse to start throwinâ punches. He got rushed to the hospital right away, I havenât heard from him since so I have no idea how he made out.â
âServes him rights,â Toki said with a slight scowl.
âYeah, itâs only fair, right? Though I bet you would rather have been able to take a whack at him yourself, huh?â
Toki crossed his arms. âHmm, maybes. Oh, wells.â He shrugged, downing more of his drink.
As the night wore on, Tokiâs mood and demeanor grew lighter. He laughed and joked as they reminisced about their time together at the camp. The alcohol took hold before he even noticed its effects, due to how quickly he drank. Magnus took notice of how the younger man swayed from side to side, even while sitting down on the couch. âYou feelinâ okay there, Toki?â He asked, placing a hand on the nape of Tokiâs neck.
Toki turned to him, smiling and nodding with his eyes closed. âYeps. I ams just tireds, maybe I goes homes now,â he slurred. He tried to stand up, but quickly lost his balance. Magnus caught him.
âMaybe you should lie down,â Magnus suggested. âThereâs a bed in the other room, you can fall asleep there if you want, I donât mind. Iâll just sleep here on the couch.â
âMaybes.â
âHere, let me help you.â Magnus linked his arms with Toki and led him into his bedroom, allowing the younger man to lie down on his tiny bed. âBetter?â
âYeps. Actuallies, coulds you brings me a glass of water?â
âSure.â Magnus fetched Toki a glass of ice water from the kitchen and set it down on the nightstand. âHere. Just donât knock it over.â
Toki took a couple sips of the water and then set it aside, turning over towards the wall. âHeyâŠâ
âHmm?â
âNo ones ever tolds me exactly why you lefts Dethkloks.â
Magnusâ heart raced, and he squeezed his right index finger, thankful that the younger man was not facing him at that moment. âWe had different ideas, and they refused to compromise, so I left. Nathan was a tyrant, Pickles just went along with whatever he said, and no one ever listened to me or took my contributions seriously. It sounds like theyâre treating you the same way. Heh, maybe they just arenât meant to have a rhythm guitarist.â
âI donâts thinks I will leaves, though. It isnât always bads. Anyways, itâs nots like I ams tryings to contributes anything musics-kallies anyways,â Toki mumbled, his words becoming less comprehensible as he drifted off.
âJust do whateverâs best for yourself, buddy,â Magnus whispered gently, patting the younger manâs head.
*****
âToki? Toki, are you conscious? Can you hear me?â It was Abigail. Toki had dissociated somewhat, but her voice brought him back down to Earth.
âOh, Abigails⊠Youâs alrights. Thatâs goods,â he droned.
âHow are you feeling?â
âCoulds be worse. I just donâts feels like talkings rights now.â
âAll right. Sorry,â she sighed. âI understand.â
Toki clenched his fists, dreading the fact that he would probably see Magnus Hammersmithâs face again very soon. His mind was still fixated on the past; his conversation with Magnus that night he stayed over at his house and all those things he should have found suspicious â especially the part about how maybe Dethklok wasnât meant to have a rhythm guitarist. Still, he could not see any real reason for Magnus to stab him, even considering that. He then remembered back to Dr. Rocksoâs warning about Magnus â how the clown mentioned he got kicked out of Dethklok. Could Magnus have been lying when he said he left of his own volition? Could Rockso have actually been right about something? At this point, anything was possible. He focused on his breathing, steeling himself for a confrontation.
I hope this does not suck, I myself liked it so much I plan on continuing this story. I super apologize for any spelling/grammar/continuity mistakes, my beta could not work on this on time.
If anybody would like to beta this, I would love you a lot
This is a gift for the lovely artist Sie, I hope you like it!! :)
Title: Youâre in Good hands
Rating: PG-13 at most
Pairing: Skwisgaar/Toki
Summary: How Toki came to live in Mordhaus shortly after his successful audition
Still wondering whether Toki is canonically legal age
