Honestly Knubbdensen is just so damn perfect as a ship
On one hand you have Offdensen, a stern faced lawyer and businessman, a spitting image of 1980’s yuppies, who has a hidden partier side and a red and black color scheme
And then you have this 70’s wild child who is always high as fuck with a white and blue color scheme, yet even when he’s freaking the f🎵K out he’s as professional as Charles, just with more emotion
if you feel like it, i would absolutely love something w/ knubdensen with #56 or #86 of those love prompts 😭
Yes to both!! Gotta love them! And apologies for this being late!! I really needed to write fluff tonight so this helped me finally finish it so I hope that this was worth the wait!
100 Ways to Say I Love You Prompts[Open]
56.) “It Brings Out Your Eyes.”
Word Count: 962 Words
There was always something nice about being able to have enough time to actually dress for an occasion and not throw in something lazily like the other boys. Time was valuable in the music industry. Friends had mental breakdowns and quit because of it. Projects that couldn’t meet the deadline were shelved away, never to see the public eye. Luckily for Dick though, he never had to go through any of those things personally. Time was still young for him but all he needed was to remember those cold nights in jail and that became his driving force for not falling under like the rest of them.
Working with Dethklok had shown how much power time was given. A little too much power if he had to be honest. Despite all the planning ahead and schedules and meetings, everything was crammed to the last possible minute and somehow, they managed to pull it off. It left him with a sense of euphoria and exhaustion each time they worked and finished on a song. Thank God that he managed to fix up the album with just minutes to spare to the deadline. And now, he got to celebrate the product of caffeine pills, sleepless nights and whatever else he managed to get his hands on.
The fun part with working with Dethklok was the manager. And the parties. But mostly the manager. Specifically, it was the quiet moments whether it was at the recording studio or in one of their bedrooms and it was just the two of them. The times were few but were a delight when they did. Charles did try to put time set aside for him. He was easily able to mask it as ‘work matters’ and what they did afterwards was certainly not worked related but nobody needed to know that.
Putting on their final touches for their outfits to prepare for the album release party? Definitely something that was work related. They didn’t necessarily need the help with their outfits; they had their own tastes that neither was willing to give up. But having a person give in some comments such as ‘You’re looking handsome’ was far better than just staring at a mirror.
With just an hour to go until the release party, they were almost done with their outfits. He had insisted to help with Charles’ tie, not because he couldn’t do it but because he honestly liked doing it for him. With how much he was able to do things so efficiently, it felt nice to be needed for something even if it was as small as tying a tie.
Dick finished with his tie in just under a few seconds. He stepped back just to make sure he did the correctly and he obviously did as he was an expert at ties (but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it as an excuse to take a good look at him).
“How do I look?” Charles asked.
“Handsome, as always.” Dick responded with a smile as he reached up to kiss him. He was careful to not ruin the suit he had meticulously helped straighten.
Charles kissed him back, “Thanks for the help, Dick. Now, why don’t I help you with your tie now?”
Dick rummaged through his drawer. He chose to live outside of Mordhaus as he had other bands to produce but he was given a room just for those long nights. It was honestly a blessing because it brought less baggage and less chances of forgetting to bring certain things. Unfortunately, he had to take his ties out to the cleaners, and he must’ve left them at his home. He had no ties now and this was not good at all. If he had no ties he wasn’t going to show up; that was honestly worse than having to go to jail.
“Dick, are you alright?” Charles asked as he noticed his frantically searching.
“Uh...yeah, totally, babe! Just have one teeny tiny problem.”
“And what’s that?”
“I forgot my ties at home.”
“Oh. Well you can borrow one of mine. Hold on for just a moment.” Charles answered. Before Dick could say another word, the other already left his room.
Charles came back a few moments later with a few different colored ties, “I ah wasn’t sure which color you would have preferred but I think one of these would look best on you.”
Dick smiled as he took the ties. He went to the mirror to decide which color tie would look good on his suit. His suit was a dark grey and the colors Charles provided were a dark red, dark green and a navy blue. He honestly would’ve gone with something a bit more vibrant but it felt nice to get to wear something the other picked out. It was the little things that kept their relationship as colorful as it could be, “What color do you think would look best?”
“Ah the green one. It really brings out your eyes.” He answered with a soft chuckle and Dick laughed.
“Very funny; all the ties would match my eyes anyway. You wanna help?”
“Of course,” Charles helped with his tie. He was a bit slower compared to Dick but he still carried the swiftness and efficiency that came with experience. Pretty soon, he finished with the tie and stepped back.
“How do I look, babe?” Dick asked.
“Handsome, as always.” Charles said with a smile.
They shared another kiss. They had about 45 minutes until the celebration began but nothing would hurt about sharing a drink as they watched guests arrive. They could take their time. Wow.
Dick managed to look at the mirror before they left. The dark green really did go with his eyes after all.
86) “You’re important too.”
Word Count: 1044
Trigger Warning: Depression (But there is a bittersweet/happy ending)
It’s hard to remember it, honestly.
Charles knew he was important, but it was hard to realize that sometimes. After all, he had an image to maintain. And such an image meant that he had to do certain things, behave a certain way and talk to the right people. He knew what to do. It wasn’t like this was his first day in the music industry and he had almost every golden contact amateur would be begging on his front steps for. He had everything he could possibly want.
He knew how to take care of himself. He made sure he had time for his personal life and for the most part, he was successful. He was able to take breaks and have time to himself alongside time with his friends and his relationship with Dick. He kept to the schedule and even with Dethklok’s usual antics, he was able to keep up with it well.
Sometimes life just happened to disregard all your careful planning anyway and throw in all sorts of problems/emotions that you simply can’t control anymore.
Charles was aware of it. He understood the feeling of waking up with a numb feeling and feeling almost emotionless. He understood the days where it felt longer than usual, almost wanting to put a stop to it and the lack of motivation that was just slowly beginning to eat at him alive.
He couldn’t let it effect his work. No. He had something far more important to do.
And so he simply took Prozac to let the feelings subside until the effects wore off and he was left feeling those God-awful feelings again. He had to continue working and had to continue doing so. He wouldn’t take a break over feelings that would eventually pass. Though nearly a month later, they really didn’t and his work was now just starting to pile up.
It didn’t really help that he had been forced to cancel plans due to him slowly slacking off. Friends were understandable at least (if they hadn’t then, they wouldn’t be his friends now), Dethklok were fine with him having to postpone meetings though not without asking if he was okay because he rarely had to postpone meetings so last minute, and Dick was just getting a bit worried. Okay, a lot worried.
He hadn’t seen Charles in almost a few weeks at least and any plans of hanging out were immediately cancelled because he just lost track of time and got so busy. It wasn’t even hell week or having to prepare for a press release or a new album. Something was wrong.
He found Charles in his office, going over mountains of paperwork. He almost didn’t acknowledge that Dick was in the office until he spoke up, “Hey, Charles?”
He looked up, almost a bit surprised to see him, “Oh, Dick. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Well yeah, we haven’t seen each other in a few weeks! I was getting a bit worried!”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to avoid you-work is just getting a bit ah hectic right now.”
“Well, can you take the night off, babe?”
“I’m sorry, Dick, I have work to do at the moment.” Charles answered apologetically.
“Alright, I’ll stay then.” He answered with a shrug.
“You don’t have to. I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to.”
“Well I offered myself. Besides, I just wanted to see you. It’s been so long, anyway.” He took one of the office chairs to sit next to him, “But are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He answered almost automatically. One look from Dick and it was clear he didn’t believe in the answer, so he caved in, “I’m just a little tired, is all. I promise when I get this done, we can do something together.”
“How long have you been feeling tired?” Dick asked.
“Just for a small while. It happens, it’s nothing to worry about. I just need to sleep better.”
“Is that really all you need? To sleep more? Are you sure it’s not something else?” Dick may have never been a therapist (and why would he be one?) but he knew Charles and how humans worked. Adults especially often hid what they often felt by using words that were safer. ‘I’m tired’ could mean a multitude of things and it was something that he needed to figure out.
Charles paused with his work momentarily before setting the pen down, “I guess. I just don’t know, honestly.”
“Well, take a few days off to figure it out. It’s not like its tax season or anything important. You can just leave this to your assistants, right?”
“Well, yes, but-“
“Then do it, please.”
Charles wanted to argue. It meant giving up and caving into whatever he had been fighting so desperately. He didn’t want to just take a few days off, but he knew Dick was right. It was enough incentive to get him to agree, “Alright. I’ll call them in the morning to help me out.”
Dick smiled, “Great, let’s get you to bed now.”
Charles was honestly at his complete mercy and he didn’t protest when Dick dragged him to his room. God, when was the last time he slept honestly? He was afraid to know the answer.
Dick, thankfully, didn’t press further which Charles was glad about. He didn’t want to explore emotions that he wasn’t ready to express or talk about things he wasn’t ready to talk about. He did the talking for them both and it worked out well as they got ready for bed.
“You’re important to me. You know that, right?” Charles said finally as they laid down. He had been uncharacteristically quiet since they were in his room but if that was the only thing Dick managed to get out of him, he was fine with that. He was fine to help him out however he can. They’ll get through it.
Dick smiled and kissed him gently before pulling him closer, “Of course, I do. But you’re important too, babe. Don’t forget that either.”
The words wouldn’t cure what Charles had been feeling for over a month. But it did help him sleep peacefully for the first time in a while.
Caution: This fic will contain extremely dark and serious themes, including discussion of the Vietnam War, the consequences of drug use, s*ic*de, slight brainwashing, self h*rm and mental illness that isn’t glamorized. If you can’t handle those topics, steer away from this fic for your own protection. As always, Zita Lang Knubbler and Penny Lang are the creations of the lovely @yourprettyfacebones.
AN, VERY IMPORTANT: This page in particular has a brief but somewhat graphic depiction of self h*rm urges, alongside some unreality in the beginning.
Unrelated, but how would y’all feel about me making a tag/notif list?
“Let’s rock talk.” Twinkletits sat backwards in his chair, looking at you. “So, look, what Dick did on the previous page is extremely fucking stupid, especially considering the time period he was living in. So many people in the real world-that means your world-got into vehicles with strange people, and would never arrive at their destination. You know why?” His face suddenly darkened, “Oh, no reason, except they fucking died!” After a few moments, he sat up and his smile returned.
“And I’d just be heartbroken if that happened to you, readers, because you’re awesome people and you would be missed by so many people. Be safe out there, all of you, and don’t get into stranger’s cars. Good rock talk. Bye for now!” He waved cheerfully.
~~~
{????, 1972}
The blonde boy stumbled a little on the flooring, then fell into an olive green seat on his right, panting. Holy shit. He just got onto an ugly bus with a bunch of strange hippies. Backpack in his lap, he took time to look around and get a hint of his new surroundings.
“You in?“ The other veteran asked. Richard just nodded.
“Yeah…”
“Right on.” The older man slid the door shut, then
maneuvered up to the driver’s seat, rummaging through a duffel bag for something.
It was a hippie bus, alright. Posters for a cornucopia of bands Pastor Tom called satanic were plastered haphazardly on the walls and ceiling, some overlapping and obscuring their names. Next to his seat was a small fridge and countertop, and he swore he smelled booze in there.
“Welcome to the Pop Rock Crew, maaaan.” A guy who could only have been a couple of years older than him sat up from behind the seat in front of the blonde, eyes bright red. He was topless and wore a black paisley bandana around his head, along with a black string around his neck bearing a small wooden peace sign. Several other young men and women got up behind him, their eyes equally red.
“You’re gonna love it here,” A girl with long brown hair in a flower crown who looked about his age emerged from behind Richard himself, making him jump.
“So you were in ‘Nam, huh?” The older veteran returned and sat down on the seat in front of him, a packet of pop rocks in one hand and a can of coke in the other.
Richard nodded hesitantly, and mumbled again, “Yeah…”
“Lottery?”
That pukey feeling was coming back to him. He gripped the backpack for dead life. “Y-yeah…”
“Hey.” The man smiled softly, and despite everything, he felt soothed. “Don’t worry about a thing, kid. You’re ok now.”
“Am I?” Richard sighed sadly and stared down at his hands.
“You are. We look after each other in the Pop Rock Crew. Speaking of Pop Rocks, you ever had any, kid?” He raised an eyebrow.
Richard shook his head. “W-What’s a pop rock?” Gasps filled the bus, all the hippies looking at him in utter horror, all save for the man, who still had a gentle smile. The boy fought back the urge to shrink back.
“Oh, kid… You’re about to experience the greatest thing in your life.” The man extended his hand to him again, it filled with a handful of the treat; tiny red sugar crystals. “Try it. Strawberry flavor. S’good.”
Like a terrified feral dog being coaxed out of hiding, he stared for a moment, then reached out, carefully took them from his hand and stuck them in his mouth.
“Don’t swallow yet. Just hold it on your tongue and savor that funky burnnnnnn.”
And there indeed was a burn, but it was a pleasant burn, like one gets when drinking soda. He liked it. Loved it, actually.
“Funky, right?”
The boy swallowed, and for the first time since before he got the letter, he chuckled, then laughed. The veteran laughed too.
“Ahhh, man… Name’s Kenneth. What’s yours, kid?”
Feeling a little less burdened, he replied, “Call me Dick.”
~~~
{Mordhaus, Present Day}
Dick checked their visage in the bathroom mirror one more time. Eyes were at full power, charged last night. They were showered. Their teeth were brushed. Their hair was brushed. Their suit was neat and their tie was on correctly. Good. They almost passed for a normal functional jackoff dildo, but their eyes obviously were a dead giveaway that they associated with Dethklok.
Dick stepped away from the mirror and moved their hand to the light switch, and they froze. There was a sliver of pale skin that their suit jacket didn’t cover, on their wrist. That oppressive itchy feeling returned with a vengeance. It begged to be ripped open.
Dick mentally beat themself on the head with a rolled up newspaper.
NO. Knock it off, Knubbler. Think of your kid, ok babe? Can you imagine how heartbroken she’d be if she found out her idiot pops hurt themself? Mindfulness, mindfulness… For the banana sticker. There, good…
They exhaled in relief, the evil thought having passed by harmlessly, and turned off the light. They couldn’t wait to try those fancy fries.
~~~
“The vial containing Seneca.bat has been delivered to the premises, doctor, and is now in the hands of our agent. It will be added to Knubbler’s beverage order.”
Turn The Page - A Knubbdensen Tale (FOREWORD AND TRAILER)
Yep, it’s a thing! What is it, you ask? Well, it’s bullshit of course! But it’s MY bullshit, and I’m inflicting it on the lot of you!
First off, I’d like to extend my fondest thanks to the amazing and talented @yourprettyfacebones for allowing me to use their gorgeous OCs Zita Knubbler and Penny Lang, along with their headcanons about the prophecy and about Dick and Charles’s relationship.
This might be the most ambitious thing I’ve planned out and then actually executed, so I’m both excited and scared of how it’ll go, or if it’ll go at all. I’m using a completely different writing method and style for the first time, so this should be interesting-ish.
This fic will contain extremely dark and serious themes, including discussion of the Vietnam War, the consequences of drug use, s*ic*de, slight brainwashing, self h*rm and mental illness that isn’t glamorized. If you can’t handle those topics, steer away from this fic for your own protection.
Without further ado, I am proud and anxious to present, the trailer for Turn The Page.
Charles Foster Offdensen was a professional. This was how most people described him. Calm, collected, willing to get his hands dirty for his boys with that same blank look on his face.
Most people didn’t know him well at all. The playful, music-loving face beneath the gray bejeweled mask was strictly reserved for those he believed could be trusted.
The fire crackled, acting as the only source of light in the room. Lighting was important, like he always said, and this was the ideal lighting for a romantic winter night in with his criminal soulmate, Dick “Magic Ears” Knubbler. To get extra cozy, they wore only their tracksuits and fuzzy socks; Offdensen’s were black, Dick’s were white.
Charles had his legs crossed on the plush rug, 59 Les Paul in his lap, strumming along as his beloved sat on their knees beside him and sang with an ethereal tenor.
“Weeping as no one before her has wept,
A feeling of panic that takes all her breath.
Emotions like lava are burning inside,
Burning with hatred, self-pity and lies.
A circle of doubt and of fear closes in,
Choking, it blinds her to every good thing.
She can't face living if he's not around,
How much will his broken promise cost now?”
It was a horrifically sad song, but when Dick sang it, it sounded almost like a lullaby, or a comforting hymn. The blonde inhaled sharply and continued, cybernetic eyes glowing bright green.
“He promised he would never leave her again,
Promised his days as a soldier would end.
Her and that baby would always come first,
Now they want him back for one more mission.
He tries to calm her and move to the door,
Says he'll be gone ‘16 days and no more!’
Thinks of his comrades, he owes them his life,
Now forced to choose between them or his wife!”
Charles joined in for the next part, their voices echoing eerily off the stone walls.
