iPod Meme Fic
So, um. This is my first post. I've been lurking for a while, and I've started writing Metalocalypse fic.I did this meme. Some of it is S/T, most of it is gen, and yeah.
I’m Your Man by Nick Cave
New Orleans was a sticky city to be playing a show in, but the booze was great and the crowd was thick. The band was collectively happy, spirits high as they toasted themselves with mugs of beer in a bar after the show. Nathan was still insisting that they not drink before a show and they were intent on getting drunk fast, perhaps crashing a few parties. Nobody would care if they burst through the doors of a bustle as they were Dethklok, famous sex gods, and any party would be lucky to have their presence granted.
They wound up in a split level in the slums. Pickles did coke off a slut’s tits while Toki smoked from a bomb, hiccupping and giggling. Nathan was in a drinking competition with some guy in the kitchen; Nathan won and spent the rest of the night arguing death metal with the man who lost to him. Murderface was attempting without success to get laid; Skwisgaar was not attempting to get laid, but had a lot of success anyway.
It was a pretty good night, all things considered.
Marry Me by Emilie Autumn
In Norway, Toki had been promised to a girl. She was pretty enough but he didn’t know what color her hair was because she dressed like his parents, and that bothered Toki a lot for some reason. But his parents were adamant in their silent way that upon Toki’s twenty-first birthday they would hold a ceremony in the church, Toki’s father acting as the priest. The girl’s parents hadn’t taken the vow of silence and this was the only reason he knew about the arrangements of his promised marriage.
A month before his birthday and subsequent wedding, Toki was milling around in the town square. He didn’t want to go home and liked to stay out until it was simply too late for him to be out without suspicion. He didn’t have a reason to be in town, but he didn’t have a reason to live, so he figured everything evened out or fit together or something. It didn’t matter; it felt right.
So, he was sitting on a bench. A man came around the corner, dressed in white. Toki hadn’t seen him before, which was strange. The man carried a guitar and was quite tall, intimidating. Toki felt the urge to talk to him and thus he did.
Twenty-nine days later, Toki was on the same bench, besides the man who went by the name of Skwisgaar.
“Marry me instead,” Skwisgaar said.
They laughed. They did not get married, but they stuck together.
The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance by Vampire Weekend
High school was a weird time for Murderface. Nobody really talked to him, so he passed the days by sitting in his room and fucking around with a bass guitar he’d found in his grandparents’ basement. On the anniversary of his parents’ mutual death, he learned how to play his first death metal song. This was his turning point; he remembered shooting up and exclaiming that he’d found his purpose in life. From the living room downstairs, his grandmother yelled at him to shut up and go to bed.
For Skwisgaar, high school had been his sexual awakening. He did okay, but passed mostly because he fucked every one of his female teachers, no mattered how old or married.
Toki’s high school experience had been like the rest of his life: lonely and quiet. The teachers stared at him like they knew something, but if they did, they never indicated it.
Pickles was too busy with Snakes N Barrels to care about school, but he did graduate, so that was something.
Nathan dropped out and occasionally, he felt stupid. Mostly, he was glad that he dedicated his life to metal. It was a more fulfilling existence by far, the microphone over a diploma.
Down By The Water by The Drums
The view of the ocean by the hotel was amazing. The waves lapped at the shores, the sand a perfect yellow. Families congregated on the beach in the daytime, but by the night they were long gone. Fireworks were able to be heard but not seen on this particular stretch, which was probably why the families left when the night fell: to seek the excitement.
This had been in the room-sharing days, after Magnus left but before they got big. This was their first major tour, their first five-star hotel. Toki and Skwisgaar, sitting on the two beds in their shared room, were giddy with a combination of elation and illegal substances. Toki had been the one to suggest they go down to the beach; shockingly, Skwisgaar agreed.
“No swimmingks,” Skwisgaar said, getting off the bed. “There ams sharks in de water.”
Toki grinned. “Brutals.”
They sat on their asses on the sand and passed a bottle of vodka between them, drinking and laughing. Toki fell asleep at one point and would not wake up, sluggish; Skwisgaar carried him back to the room and pretended that it was a nuisance.
Under Your Spell by Desire
Toki viewed Skwisgaar as the end of the world, the vessel for the apocalypse. Even the man’s gait was not immune to his smugness, the way his long legs bent and feet lifted begging somebody to challenge him. Toki tried to challenge him, Toki failed, Toki was the rhythm guitarist, Toki was in love with the lead. Sometimes he would stare at him between windmills and head-bangs during their shows, and he would watch Skwisgaar play the guitar. His fingers strummed the strings like a woman, his hips turning into the back like a woman, cradling it like a woman-watching Skwisgaar play the guitar was like watching him have sex. Toki was largely content to play his own guitar in the shadows, forming vague half-thoughts about wanting to be made out of wood with his hair turned into strings as he focused on playing. One night, the word lovesick formed, and it would not leave.
You Don’t Know Me by Birds Escape
“Nathan, what is my favorite color?”
“Uh…pink?”
“Wrong,” Abigail hissed. She was standing outside the recording studio, arms crossed over her chest.
“Well, then what is it?” Nathan asked.
“I’m not going to tell you because that’s not the point,” Abigail responded.
“I would like to know my future wife’s favorite fucking color,” Nathan growled. “What if I wanted to, like, buy you some jewelry? How would I know what stone to get?” He was earnest, facial features drawn up in an endearing way. He had his headphones on, holding them on his ears. He had been singing (quite well, she might add) and she had been recording, but he’d stop in the middle of a song to shout at her that he loved her and to beg her to please, please, please give him a chance.
Abigail sighed and turned the option that let her hear him and him hear her off. She kept her arms crossed over her chest and listened to him shout empty, silent words at him. He had a nice mouth and a good singing voice, but she liked him better when he was providing pleasure, not unprofessional conduct in the workplace.
“You don’t even know me,” she sighed.
I’m Your Man by Nick Cave
New Orleans was a sticky city to be playing a show in, but the booze was great and the crowd was thick. The band was collectively happy, spirits high as they toasted themselves with mugs of beer in a bar after the show. Nathan was still insisting that they not drink before a show and they were intent on getting drunk fast, perhaps crashing a few parties. Nobody would care if they burst through the doors of a bustle as they were Dethklok, famous sex gods, and any party would be lucky to have their presence granted.
They wound up in a split level in the slums. Pickles did coke off a slut’s tits while Toki smoked from a bomb, hiccupping and giggling. Nathan was in a drinking competition with some guy in the kitchen; Nathan won and spent the rest of the night arguing death metal with the man who lost to him. Murderface was attempting without success to get laid; Skwisgaar was not attempting to get laid, but had a lot of success anyway.
It was a pretty good night, all things considered.
Marry Me by Emilie Autumn
In Norway, Toki had been promised to a girl. She was pretty enough but he didn’t know what color her hair was because she dressed like his parents, and that bothered Toki a lot for some reason. But his parents were adamant in their silent way that upon Toki’s twenty-first birthday they would hold a ceremony in the church, Toki’s father acting as the priest. The girl’s parents hadn’t taken the vow of silence and this was the only reason he knew about the arrangements of his promised marriage.
A month before his birthday and subsequent wedding, Toki was milling around in the town square. He didn’t want to go home and liked to stay out until it was simply too late for him to be out without suspicion. He didn’t have a reason to be in town, but he didn’t have a reason to live, so he figured everything evened out or fit together or something. It didn’t matter; it felt right.
So, he was sitting on a bench. A man came around the corner, dressed in white. Toki hadn’t seen him before, which was strange. The man carried a guitar and was quite tall, intimidating. Toki felt the urge to talk to him and thus he did.
Twenty-nine days later, Toki was on the same bench, besides the man who went by the name of Skwisgaar.
“Marry me instead,” Skwisgaar said.
They laughed. They did not get married, but they stuck together.
The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance by Vampire Weekend
High school was a weird time for Murderface. Nobody really talked to him, so he passed the days by sitting in his room and fucking around with a bass guitar he’d found in his grandparents’ basement. On the anniversary of his parents’ mutual death, he learned how to play his first death metal song. This was his turning point; he remembered shooting up and exclaiming that he’d found his purpose in life. From the living room downstairs, his grandmother yelled at him to shut up and go to bed.
For Skwisgaar, high school had been his sexual awakening. He did okay, but passed mostly because he fucked every one of his female teachers, no mattered how old or married.
Toki’s high school experience had been like the rest of his life: lonely and quiet. The teachers stared at him like they knew something, but if they did, they never indicated it.
Pickles was too busy with Snakes N Barrels to care about school, but he did graduate, so that was something.
Nathan dropped out and occasionally, he felt stupid. Mostly, he was glad that he dedicated his life to metal. It was a more fulfilling existence by far, the microphone over a diploma.
Down By The Water by The Drums
The view of the ocean by the hotel was amazing. The waves lapped at the shores, the sand a perfect yellow. Families congregated on the beach in the daytime, but by the night they were long gone. Fireworks were able to be heard but not seen on this particular stretch, which was probably why the families left when the night fell: to seek the excitement.
This had been in the room-sharing days, after Magnus left but before they got big. This was their first major tour, their first five-star hotel. Toki and Skwisgaar, sitting on the two beds in their shared room, were giddy with a combination of elation and illegal substances. Toki had been the one to suggest they go down to the beach; shockingly, Skwisgaar agreed.
“No swimmingks,” Skwisgaar said, getting off the bed. “There ams sharks in de water.”
Toki grinned. “Brutals.”
They sat on their asses on the sand and passed a bottle of vodka between them, drinking and laughing. Toki fell asleep at one point and would not wake up, sluggish; Skwisgaar carried him back to the room and pretended that it was a nuisance.
Under Your Spell by Desire
Toki viewed Skwisgaar as the end of the world, the vessel for the apocalypse. Even the man’s gait was not immune to his smugness, the way his long legs bent and feet lifted begging somebody to challenge him. Toki tried to challenge him, Toki failed, Toki was the rhythm guitarist, Toki was in love with the lead. Sometimes he would stare at him between windmills and head-bangs during their shows, and he would watch Skwisgaar play the guitar. His fingers strummed the strings like a woman, his hips turning into the back like a woman, cradling it like a woman-watching Skwisgaar play the guitar was like watching him have sex. Toki was largely content to play his own guitar in the shadows, forming vague half-thoughts about wanting to be made out of wood with his hair turned into strings as he focused on playing. One night, the word lovesick formed, and it would not leave.
You Don’t Know Me by Birds Escape
“Nathan, what is my favorite color?”
“Uh…pink?”
“Wrong,” Abigail hissed. She was standing outside the recording studio, arms crossed over her chest.
“Well, then what is it?” Nathan asked.
“I’m not going to tell you because that’s not the point,” Abigail responded.
“I would like to know my future wife’s favorite fucking color,” Nathan growled. “What if I wanted to, like, buy you some jewelry? How would I know what stone to get?” He was earnest, facial features drawn up in an endearing way. He had his headphones on, holding them on his ears. He had been singing (quite well, she might add) and she had been recording, but he’d stop in the middle of a song to shout at her that he loved her and to beg her to please, please, please give him a chance.
Abigail sighed and turned the option that let her hear him and him hear her off. She kept her arms crossed over her chest and listened to him shout empty, silent words at him. He had a nice mouth and a good singing voice, but she liked him better when he was providing pleasure, not unprofessional conduct in the workplace.
“You don’t even know me,” she sighed.