I adore PirateHatter but speak no French.
This here is my half of the art-for-fic trade I did with
piratehatter, her half being here. The world just needs more ugly old dood love. Speaking of which, I wrote about half of this lying on a beach behind two retired guys from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. They were drinking illegal outdoor beer, smoking cigars that smelled like dog doo afire, and talking about times they had forgotten their guns places and subsequently found them in the hands of teenage boys holding up liquor stores. So just in case you think my stories are weird, remember: my life is weirder.
Pairing: Nathan/Murderface
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: IT'S DISGUSTING, OOH IT'S ALL GNARLED! (false advertising- I don't actually show it, I just love that line).
It had taken some doing to convince Ofdensen to let them perform “Awaken” again. The manager knew something about the ways of supernatural beings, and understood that just because you had blown something to charred chunks all over the scenery didn’t necessarily mean it was gone for good. He eventually explained this to Dethklok using video games as a metaphor. This had the infelicitous side-effect of making Toki and Murderface absolutely avid to summon the thing again and see if they could get treasure or cheat codes. Eventually it was agreed that they would only perform that number at inland, desert venues; it was on for Nevada, Mongolia and the Sahara, off for basically anywhere else. This meant that Nathan would have to remember which venue they were in; he promised to try.
The Nevada show was going to be the first time Dethklok performed “Awaken” since Finland. The band was in fine form. They had happily violated showbiz superstition by peeking out at the audience. Toki and Pickles were enthused to see that a good percentage of the crowd was comprised of working girls from the nearby legal brothels, who might be inclined to give out freebies later. Skwisgaar looked put out until Pickles pointed out the contingent that had bused in from the casinos- not one of the women was a day under sixty or an ounce under two hundred pounds. The Swede brightened substantially.
The show started and Dethklok was mother[♪~]ing ON. They were playing as hard as they ever had; the hookers and casino matrons and standard-issue metalheads were going wild. Despite the band’s general opinion that their fans were brainless mutants, they couldn’t not respond to that kind of energy. Nathan’s boom and growl were shaking the stage.
During a fractional pause between songs, Nathan glanced over at Skwisgaar, who nodded at Pickles. Time for “Awaken.” Pickles laid down the beat and the air started to thicken around the stage. Nathan began to rumble out the lyrics, vibrating the charged atmosphere.
‘Vibrating’ was the key word. Murderface ground stolidly through the bass line as usual, but he was definitely feeling somewhat strange. Kind of… tingly. He had so little experience of feeling good that he couldn’t readily identify the sensation. He tried to ignore it, as he did with most nice things.
They reached the second bridge, where the trouble had started in Finland, and an extra energy surged through the band. Toki, in particular, was hoping the troll would show up again. Nathan thundered, “I command you to rise, rise, RISE-!” Murderface’s odd feeling leapt and throbbed. The bassist looked perplexed. As the chant continued- “RISE, RISE, RISE, RIIIIISE!!”- Murderface became aware which part of him, exactly, was doing the leaping and throbbing. Apparently that song was bound to make something ugly and twisted rise, no matter what; he had a truly massive boner. Oh man- he didn’t even have a cockslap bass solo in this show, and his pants felt like they were going to burst.
The song ended, leaving the bassist aching. Holy [♪~], but he needed more of that incredible, pulsating vibration. As Nathan launched into “Murmaider,” Murderface sauntered over as casually as he could to lean on a speaker. Mm- nice, but he wanted more. He turned to face the speaker, and murmured “oh pissch.” This was awesome, feeling the throb of Nathan’s voice directly. However, his bass was seriously getting in the way. He stopped playing, unshipped it from around his neck and let it drop on the floor, in order to press his full length against the speaker. Awwwh yeah…
Unfortunately, the singing stopped abruptly as Nathan looked around to see what had happened to his brutal bass line and noticed his bassist humping the equipment.
“Murderface, what the [♪~]?” he rumbled across the stage, forsaking the microphone. There was nothing more coming through the speaker, and Murderface was in agony.
“Nnngh… scho… closche…” he muttered.
“Come on, dog-face, we’re in the middle of a concert! This is… uh… unprofessional.” Nathan pulled out one of Ofdensen’s words. The bassist was struck with inspiration, but it was unfortunately not of the musical variety. He lunged at the singer and climbed the huge man like a tree. Murderface wrapped his legs around Nathan’s waist and hung on for the ride.
“What the [♪~]?” Nathan repeated. Murderface was getting the amazing vibration of the singer’s voice straight from the source. It was like sitting on a diesel locomotive that happened to have a soft tummy.
“Pickles, what did you give Murderface before the show?” Nathan’s growl got lower when he was pissed, which was certainly the case right now.
“Nahthin’, dood, nahthin’!” the drummer protested.
“Are you high or did you finally just totally lose your [♪~]ing mind?” the singer growled. Murderface had his junk pressed up into the notch of Nathan’s ribcage.
“Don’t schtop talking…” he whispered to the singer.
“GET OFF!" Nathan roared. Murderface obeyed, but not how the singer had intended. Ecstasy suffused the bassist’s ugly face as ten thousand cameras snapped pictures.
“… that better not be what I think it was, “ Nathan muttered as Murderface finished shuddering. “Oh, [♪~], it’s soaking through my shirt, that’s brutal.”
“Aw man, Murderface!” Pickles exclaimed. Then, he said as an aside to Skiwsgaar, “Dood, you owe me five bucks. I tolja Murderface would crack before Toki did.”
“Ja, ja, alls rights…” the lead guitarist dug out his wallet. Pickles didn’t feel the need to mention the side bet he had with Nathan as to whether Skiwsgaar or Toki would be the first to confess his undying passion for the other.
piratehatter, her half being here. The world just needs more ugly old dood love. Speaking of which, I wrote about half of this lying on a beach behind two retired guys from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. They were drinking illegal outdoor beer, smoking cigars that smelled like dog doo afire, and talking about times they had forgotten their guns places and subsequently found them in the hands of teenage boys holding up liquor stores. So just in case you think my stories are weird, remember: my life is weirder.
Pairing: Nathan/Murderface
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: IT'S DISGUSTING, OOH IT'S ALL GNARLED! (false advertising- I don't actually show it, I just love that line).
It had taken some doing to convince Ofdensen to let them perform “Awaken” again. The manager knew something about the ways of supernatural beings, and understood that just because you had blown something to charred chunks all over the scenery didn’t necessarily mean it was gone for good. He eventually explained this to Dethklok using video games as a metaphor. This had the infelicitous side-effect of making Toki and Murderface absolutely avid to summon the thing again and see if they could get treasure or cheat codes. Eventually it was agreed that they would only perform that number at inland, desert venues; it was on for Nevada, Mongolia and the Sahara, off for basically anywhere else. This meant that Nathan would have to remember which venue they were in; he promised to try.
The Nevada show was going to be the first time Dethklok performed “Awaken” since Finland. The band was in fine form. They had happily violated showbiz superstition by peeking out at the audience. Toki and Pickles were enthused to see that a good percentage of the crowd was comprised of working girls from the nearby legal brothels, who might be inclined to give out freebies later. Skwisgaar looked put out until Pickles pointed out the contingent that had bused in from the casinos- not one of the women was a day under sixty or an ounce under two hundred pounds. The Swede brightened substantially.
The show started and Dethklok was mother[♪~]ing ON. They were playing as hard as they ever had; the hookers and casino matrons and standard-issue metalheads were going wild. Despite the band’s general opinion that their fans were brainless mutants, they couldn’t not respond to that kind of energy. Nathan’s boom and growl were shaking the stage.
During a fractional pause between songs, Nathan glanced over at Skwisgaar, who nodded at Pickles. Time for “Awaken.” Pickles laid down the beat and the air started to thicken around the stage. Nathan began to rumble out the lyrics, vibrating the charged atmosphere.
‘Vibrating’ was the key word. Murderface ground stolidly through the bass line as usual, but he was definitely feeling somewhat strange. Kind of… tingly. He had so little experience of feeling good that he couldn’t readily identify the sensation. He tried to ignore it, as he did with most nice things.
They reached the second bridge, where the trouble had started in Finland, and an extra energy surged through the band. Toki, in particular, was hoping the troll would show up again. Nathan thundered, “I command you to rise, rise, RISE-!” Murderface’s odd feeling leapt and throbbed. The bassist looked perplexed. As the chant continued- “RISE, RISE, RISE, RIIIIISE!!”- Murderface became aware which part of him, exactly, was doing the leaping and throbbing. Apparently that song was bound to make something ugly and twisted rise, no matter what; he had a truly massive boner. Oh man- he didn’t even have a cockslap bass solo in this show, and his pants felt like they were going to burst.
The song ended, leaving the bassist aching. Holy [♪~], but he needed more of that incredible, pulsating vibration. As Nathan launched into “Murmaider,” Murderface sauntered over as casually as he could to lean on a speaker. Mm- nice, but he wanted more. He turned to face the speaker, and murmured “oh pissch.” This was awesome, feeling the throb of Nathan’s voice directly. However, his bass was seriously getting in the way. He stopped playing, unshipped it from around his neck and let it drop on the floor, in order to press his full length against the speaker. Awwwh yeah…
Unfortunately, the singing stopped abruptly as Nathan looked around to see what had happened to his brutal bass line and noticed his bassist humping the equipment.
“Murderface, what the [♪~]?” he rumbled across the stage, forsaking the microphone. There was nothing more coming through the speaker, and Murderface was in agony.
“Nnngh… scho… closche…” he muttered.
“Come on, dog-face, we’re in the middle of a concert! This is… uh… unprofessional.” Nathan pulled out one of Ofdensen’s words. The bassist was struck with inspiration, but it was unfortunately not of the musical variety. He lunged at the singer and climbed the huge man like a tree. Murderface wrapped his legs around Nathan’s waist and hung on for the ride.
“What the [♪~]?” Nathan repeated. Murderface was getting the amazing vibration of the singer’s voice straight from the source. It was like sitting on a diesel locomotive that happened to have a soft tummy.
“Pickles, what did you give Murderface before the show?” Nathan’s growl got lower when he was pissed, which was certainly the case right now.
“Nahthin’, dood, nahthin’!” the drummer protested.
“Are you high or did you finally just totally lose your [♪~]ing mind?” the singer growled. Murderface had his junk pressed up into the notch of Nathan’s ribcage.
“Don’t schtop talking…” he whispered to the singer.
“GET OFF!" Nathan roared. Murderface obeyed, but not how the singer had intended. Ecstasy suffused the bassist’s ugly face as ten thousand cameras snapped pictures.
“… that better not be what I think it was, “ Nathan muttered as Murderface finished shuddering. “Oh, [♪~], it’s soaking through my shirt, that’s brutal.”
“Aw man, Murderface!” Pickles exclaimed. Then, he said as an aside to Skiwsgaar, “Dood, you owe me five bucks. I tolja Murderface would crack before Toki did.”
“Ja, ja, alls rights…” the lead guitarist dug out his wallet. Pickles didn’t feel the need to mention the side bet he had with Nathan as to whether Skiwsgaar or Toki would be the first to confess his undying passion for the other.