Visions of Sugarplums (Mythklok Interstitial)
Title: Visions of Sugarplums (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Yuletide fest, with desserts and weaponry
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing.
Notes: This one happened because wikdsushi wanted Pickles to hallucinate that Charles/Sariel was a giant devil's food cake. Or a Twinkie. And we all know what happens when I try to write to prompts....
“Uhhhhhhhhh,” said Nathan Explosion, with his characteristic eloquence.
“All right, Nathan.” Charles sat down in his office chair and steepled his hands officiously, hoping this would aid in the thought process.
“Uhhhhh … Pickles.”
Well, that narrowed it down at least. “All right. Pickles, ah, what?”
“He got some stuff. Uhhhhhhhh. When he was in THE SOUTHWEST.”
No need in asking what kind of stuff. “When did he find the fucking time?” Charles found himself asking.
“Dude. It’s Pickles.”
“Yeah. Point.” Really stupid question. “So, ah, we have, Pickles, took some stuff,” (because of course he fucking ingested it) “and…?”
“Uhhhhhhh.”
The brainlock seemed a little extreme, even for Nathan. Charles moved to twenty questions mode. “Is, ah, Pickles in fact DEAD Nathan?”
“No.”
“Is anyone else dead?”
“No.”
“Is anyone in imminent danger of death or dismemberment?”
“Uhhhhh. What’s dismemberment again?”
“Getting a leg chopped off by a rampaging lawnmower, that kind of thing?”
“Oh. Cool! But, no.”
“OK. Nathan. I give up. Should I go see?”
“Yeah! Yeah, dude, you should go SEE PICKLES!”
They proceeded down Mordhaus’s vast corridors to the Endangered Species Room. William Murderface stood directly outside Pickles’s doorway, sidearm at the ready.
“Schinnamon bunsch!” he told them.
“Brutal,” said Nathan. “He thinks I’m an ÉCLAIR AU CHOCOLAT!”
“He thinks you’re, ah…. Excuse me?” asked Charles. But before he had a satisfactory answer, Murderface had yanked open Pickles’ door, and Nathan shoved their manager inside.
“Uh, Pickles?” he asked.
The dreadlocked drummer was sprawled on his bed, and appeared to be hungrily gnawing on his bedpost. He looked up with Charles, his eyes filled with wonder.
“MOTHERDOUCHERS, IT’S CAAAAAAAAKE!” he screamed. And pounced.
They had retired back to Charles’ office: Nathan, Charles, Murderface, and Pickles, who appeared to be laboring under the chemically-induced misapprehension that Dethklok's manager was some form of especially delicious chocolate dessert. As Pickles was also the subject of a most epic case of the munchies, he was currently and most contentedly nomming away on Charles's forearm.
"I just had this suit fitted," Charles sighed, watching the redhead eagerly turn his sleeve into a frayed slobbery mess.
"Maybe Schanta will bring you another schuit in a schtill darker schade of grey," Murderface proposed as he manicured his fingernails on his hunting knife.
“This is December 24th, isn’t it?" Charles asked.
“Yeah. You usually don’t CELEBRATE THE YULETIDE SEASON, huh dude?” Nathan inquired.
“No, Nathan, I do not. You would not be inclined either, I’ll wager, if you were forced to listen to choirs of angels singing glory fucking hallelujah for 36 hours straight. But, uh," he wrenched his arm partway back from where Pickles had apparently turned it around in order to gain purchase on his exquisite frosting. "May I ask why you guys are still around? And, uh, not with your families?"
“Uh, well," Nathan began, winding up, "you know our moms, and how they all know each other and they’re always calling us and bothering us and they all have each others phone numbers and iMovie and they're all hanging out all the time and making our lives A BRUTAL LIVING HELL?”
“Ah, yeah?”
“So, like, this year? They all went off together on a CHRISTMAS CRUISE TO GUADALAJARA.”
"And, they, ah, left you boys behind to fend for yourselves?"
"Yeah. Aschholes," Murderface muttered darkly, shoving his knife soundly into the corner of Charles' desk.
"Ah, William, could you, ah, kindly refrain from stabbing my desk? I believe we have discussed this matter before."
"Schure, Cakesch," Murderface said, withdrawing the knife. Nathan snickered.
"As it happens," Charles continued, once again trying to retain his balance as Pickles took another greedy slice, "King Wotan is hosting an annual Yule party at this time. I have never attended, as I refuse to celebrate...."
"DUDE, you're saying we could be attending a DARK PAGAN RITUAL?" Nathan asked.
"Well, it's actually rather nice, so I've heard. There are blinking lights and a jazz quartet...."
"GET US TO THE YULETIDE PARTY, CAKE DUDE!" Nathan bellowed.
"Cakedenschon," Murderface repeated for emphasis.
"Nomnomnomnom," nommed Pickles.
Charles extracted his Dethphone and activated the speed dial with his free hand, only minimally poking himself in the process. “Raziel! Raziel? Well, uh, then, Thor, would you please get Raziel on the phone? You may tell her this is, uh, Sariel. Her, uh, brother. Yeah, I do actually think she will in fact know who the fuck I am. Uh, yeah, you too. Raziel! Yeah! Yes, merry Yuletide to you. No, I am not, in fact, spending the evening, as you say, jacking off into a some holly. No! Nathan is here. No, his pants are still very much on. Yeah, couldn’t be helped. Pickles is here too, and I’ll bet he would be amenable to pants removal. In fact, he’s doing that right now. OK! Look, the reason I called was, I know it’s last minute, but I have some members of the band here…. No, Toki is not here at present, but I could go get him…. Well, he will be very pleased that you feel that way about him, I’m certain. Yes, I will in fact inform him that you are sending him ‘hugs and angel kisses’ on our next meeting. No, I am not willing to deliver these things personally. No, not even after more brandy. THE REASON I am calling is, some members of the band have expressed interest in attending the, ah, festivities up at Valhalla. Now I know-“
“THEN WHY THE FUCK AREN’T THEY HERE?” Even though she had just apparated in Charles’ office (as angels are wont to do), Raziel was still screaming into her cell phone.
She was dressed in what appeared to be boughs of holly. And little else. Actually, nothing else.
“Whoa,” commented Nathan.
“Hi Nathan!” she said, still keep the phone to her ear. “Hi William! Hi Pickles!”
“Dood, I ain’t wearin’ any pants!” announced Pickles. Who wasn’t.
“Congratulations! I’m arguing with my idiot brother,” Raziel whispered, pointing at her phone
“Raziel, I am sitting here," Charles sighed.
“How did you get there?”
“You are, in fact, in my office.”
“Oh. You’re an idiot. Also, Pickles is sucking on your fingers.”
“He thinks I am gingerbread creation of some sort.”
“Dood! Yer cake!” Pickles corrected.
“Why isn’t your gingerbread ass at our party?” Raziel scolded.
“Debil’s fooood!” Pickles sucked.
“Why isn’t your devil’s food ass at our party? Ooo, devils food. Can I suck on your other fingers?”
“There will be no more finger-sucking! I am not a pastry! Pickles is experiencing a hallucination brought on my some kind of, uh, psychedelic substances.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Look, Nathan, mistletoe!” sang the little angel, leaping up onto a chair. Nathan had no sooner looked up at the sprig of greenery she was dangling over his head than she had swept him into a very passionate kiss.
“Now, find Toki, and get your fucking delicious chocolate ass to our party!” she ordered, letting go the lead singer, who promptly crashed, with a terrific thud, onto the floor. And with that, she disappeared.
“Nathan?" Charles lunged in Nathan’s direction, though It was a bit difficult maneuvering with a chemically altered drummer surgically attached to him.
“Can we go to the party now?” Nathan asked hopefully, not moving from the floor.
“Can you get Toki?”
Nathan was up on his feet almost before the last syllable had left Charles' mouth, dashing out the office door, and it seemed not a minute later when he returned, the Norwegian guitarist slung over his broad shoulder.
"Nat'ans, ams puts me downs!" Toki protested. The hulking lead singer complied, leaving the slender Norwegian sprawled on his butt on the floor.
"Dude! We gotta get to the PAGAN YULE PARTY! Before they run out of PAGANS!" Nathan informed him.
Toki stubbornly crossed his arms. "I ams not goings! You cans not makes me! Why ams Pickles sucksing on your toeses, Charles?"
"Because he's not sucking on my fingers." Charles looked over irritably to where Pickles had now removed his shoe and sock. "Dammit, that really tickles!"
"That'sch OK, Toki. You juscht schtay here," Murderface put in amiably.
"WHAT?" thundered Nathan. "But Raziel said...."
"Juscht schtay schafe from the Yule Monschter," the bassist warned, mad glow in his eyes.
Nathan suddenly got a very sly look. "Ooooohh, yeah. The YULE MONSTER."
"Wouldn't want anything to happen to our bescht little friend," Murderface speculated, plunging his knife once more into the wood of Charles' desk. "Oops, schorry, Cakeschy,” he said in responsde to the evoked glare.
"Charles, what ams dey talksing abouts?" Toki asked nervously.
"Ah, Toki, if you stay here, I can sincerely say, I cannot guarantee that you will not be unaffected by the, ah, Yule Beast...."
"Monschter."
"...Monster."
Toki regarded them suspiciously.
"WELCOME, MY GOOD FRIENDS, TO OUR ANNUAL YULETIDE FEST!" bellowed Wotan. The Norse god stood at the top of one of Valhalla's grand staircases. He was clad in a well cut three piece suit, and wore a metal helmet with two large horns.
There was much noisy clapping and cheering from the very large, and very drunken crowd.
"THIS IS A SPLENDID YEAR FOR ME, AS THIS IS THE YEAR, THE WORLD'S LOVELIEST CREATURE HAS AGREED TO BE MY WIFE!". Woman held up the hand of the holly-clad Raziel, to more raucous cheering, stomping, and applause.
"World's loveliest creature? Where is she?" came a drunken shout.
"FUCK YOU THOR!" bellowed Raziel, holding up two tiny middle fingers. Whereupon Wotan embraced her, and they kissed, to much more yelling and noise. And they kept kissing, and kept kissing....
"Ah, this is just inappropriate," grumbled a not terribly drunk Charles, who had just arrived, along with 4/5 of Dethklok.
"Pagans know how to party!" came a familiar, if inebriated voice.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Ganesh?" Charles asked the Hindu god.
Ganesh puffed some air to blow away the hair that was hanging down in his face. It stubbornly fell back down in his face. "I asked you repeatedly to accompany me! All I recall in return was a muttered 'glory fucking hallelujah' and no further explanation.”
"I didn't wanna come," Charles grumbled. “I hate fucking Yule. But I ended up babysitting.” He indicated Pickles.
"Is that Pickles?" Ganesh asked through his hair.
"Of course it's Pickles!"
“I don’t recall him being congenitally attached to your person prior to this evening!” Ganesh said, tilting his head for a better look.
Charles reached over and righted Ganesh’s glass of punch, which had also listed worryingly to the side.
“Om, creamy filling,” Pickles muttered.
“I believe that most recently he had concluded that I am a Twinkie.”
“You know Twinkies never go stale?" Ganesh informed him. "It’s a scientific fact.”
"Hey SKWISGAAR!" Nathan rumbled.
The Swede held a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh! I ams been tryings to avoids his moms all evenings," he explained, hooking a finger at Ganesh.
The Hindu god put an affectionately drunken arm around Skwisgaar's shoulders. "Awww, you have no need to avoid my mother," he said.
"No?" asked Skwisgaar nervously.
Ganesh blew his hair out of his face. It all fell back into his face. "No. It's my father you need to worry about!". He held up his glass of punch for emphasis. "He'll cut you to tiny ribbons if he sees you!" he explained, slashing with the glass, creating a fine spray of pink punch.
Skwisgaar suddenly looked even paler, and he hurriedly slipped away.
"Wait," asked Charles, shrugging off where Pickles was trying to get to the creamy filling under his jacket, "is Skwisgaar-"
"No," grinned Ganesh. "He’s fine. William has been giving me some instruction of late on how to be, as you Americans term it, a dick."
"Where did William get to, anyway?"
"He peed on the Yule log!" Raziel announced. "It exploded!"
"Oh good lord...."
"It was epic!" she grinned.
"Oh, look, uh, Raziel, dude, MISTLETOE!" Nathan told her, pointing out a sprig.
"Nathan, you get ONE YULE KISS,” the little angel told him. “Don't be greedy!"
"Ah, my pet, you can give the boy two. It is Nathan, after all," said Wotan, coming up behind her.
No sooner said, than Raziel had appeared up on a table next to Nathan, and swept him into a kiss. She let him drop into a tray of canapés, and hopped off the table. "Hi Toki!" she said.
"I ams t'anks yous for invitsing me," Toki told her. His expression was still sullen. "But I ams onlies here to avoid getsing eaten by da Yule Monster."
"She never waits 'till I'm ready," gumbled Nathan, picking shrimp puffs off his jacket as he attempted to stand.
"You have Yule Monsters?" Raziel asked.
"This is a very serious situation. You boys clearly need armaments," Wotan concluded. "Come!"
"Did schomebody schay, armaments?" asked Murderface.
"Wait, Wotan...." Charles stammered as Pickles knocked him into the Yule tree with his gnawing.
"Don't worry, Cakesch," Murderface told him.
"This will be awesome, CAKE DUDE," Nathan averred.
"We ams be fines ... Caksies!" Toki added before they all swept off with the Norse god.
"How are you, Lady Raziel?" Gamesh politely inquired.
"I'm about to murder fucking Thor," she muttered, trying to help Charles achieve a standing position.
"I know," the Hindu god grumbled, tossing his hair out of his eyes. It fell back. "But with Wotan, it's always, Thor Thor Thor!"
"Ooo, wanna see my hammer?" Raziel bitched, picking tinsel out of a furious Charles' hair.
“Compensating for anything, you think?” Ganesh asked.
"You," Charles said accusingly to Pickles, "have severely impaired my, uh, sense of authority."
"What sense of authority, Mr. Cream Filling?" asked Raziel.
"On the other hand, perhaps you could threaten them now with incipient diabetes and rampant tooth decay!" reasoned Ganesh.
"Here we are!" said Wotan, clapping Nathan on the shoulder. Nathan and Toki now carried ridiculously big swords, and Murderface wielded and equally comical axe.
"Wotan," Charles sighed, "You really shouldn't have. I mean, you really, really, REALLY shouldn't have."
"Now, go get a Yule Monster, boys!" Wotan ordered, as Dethklok made for the exit.
"Are you sure I can't behead Thor?" Raziel pouted
"Now, my little Raven," Wotan told her as they headed off, "where is your Yule spirit?"
"Maybe I'll just take his legs," the angel grumbled.
"What are going to do about Pickles?" Ganesh inquired of Charles as he picked a bit of tinsel off the Dethklok manager’s jacket.
"I dunno. Is there anything you could do with him? Like, shoot him with a tranquilizer dart?"
"I'm not sure, let me see," Ganesh said, grabbing a handful of red dreadlocks to get a look into Pickles' eyes.
Pickles suddenly gaped at Ganesh. "SAVOY TRUFFLE!" he exclaimed, as he tackled the surprised Hindu god, sending them both crashing to the floor. He ripped open Ganesh's rather expensive dress shirt and began licking his chest.
"Aw, fuck, Ganesh," Charles told him, smoothing the remains of his own jacket and straightening his tie. "I find myself feeling sorry for this. Though, not too sorry."
“Actually," Ganesh told him, still on the floor, "I find this to be a fascinating case study. I was thinking that we could, in fact, transport him back to my place, so he can receive, er, the attention he clearly deserves.”
“Uh, Ganesh, is that, ya know, ethical?”
“Sadly, I am in fact inebriated to the point that I find my decision making process to be impaired.”
"Oh." Charles regarded the two entangled beings beneath the dessert table. He was forced to admit, the results of Pickles' delusion didn't look terribly unpleasant from this angle.
"Wanna come?" asked Ganesh.
"Glory fucking hallelujah," grinned Charles.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Yuletide fest, with desserts and weaponry
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing.
Notes: This one happened because wikdsushi wanted Pickles to hallucinate that Charles/Sariel was a giant devil's food cake. Or a Twinkie. And we all know what happens when I try to write to prompts....
“Uhhhhhhhhh,” said Nathan Explosion, with his characteristic eloquence.
“All right, Nathan.” Charles sat down in his office chair and steepled his hands officiously, hoping this would aid in the thought process.
“Uhhhhh … Pickles.”
Well, that narrowed it down at least. “All right. Pickles, ah, what?”
“He got some stuff. Uhhhhhhhh. When he was in THE SOUTHWEST.”
No need in asking what kind of stuff. “When did he find the fucking time?” Charles found himself asking.
“Dude. It’s Pickles.”
“Yeah. Point.” Really stupid question. “So, ah, we have, Pickles, took some stuff,” (because of course he fucking ingested it) “and…?”
“Uhhhhhhh.”
The brainlock seemed a little extreme, even for Nathan. Charles moved to twenty questions mode. “Is, ah, Pickles in fact DEAD Nathan?”
“No.”
“Is anyone else dead?”
“No.”
“Is anyone in imminent danger of death or dismemberment?”
“Uhhhhh. What’s dismemberment again?”
“Getting a leg chopped off by a rampaging lawnmower, that kind of thing?”
“Oh. Cool! But, no.”
“OK. Nathan. I give up. Should I go see?”
“Yeah! Yeah, dude, you should go SEE PICKLES!”
They proceeded down Mordhaus’s vast corridors to the Endangered Species Room. William Murderface stood directly outside Pickles’s doorway, sidearm at the ready.
“Schinnamon bunsch!” he told them.
“Brutal,” said Nathan. “He thinks I’m an ÉCLAIR AU CHOCOLAT!”
“He thinks you’re, ah…. Excuse me?” asked Charles. But before he had a satisfactory answer, Murderface had yanked open Pickles’ door, and Nathan shoved their manager inside.
“Uh, Pickles?” he asked.
The dreadlocked drummer was sprawled on his bed, and appeared to be hungrily gnawing on his bedpost. He looked up with Charles, his eyes filled with wonder.
“MOTHERDOUCHERS, IT’S CAAAAAAAAKE!” he screamed. And pounced.
They had retired back to Charles’ office: Nathan, Charles, Murderface, and Pickles, who appeared to be laboring under the chemically-induced misapprehension that Dethklok's manager was some form of especially delicious chocolate dessert. As Pickles was also the subject of a most epic case of the munchies, he was currently and most contentedly nomming away on Charles's forearm.
"I just had this suit fitted," Charles sighed, watching the redhead eagerly turn his sleeve into a frayed slobbery mess.
"Maybe Schanta will bring you another schuit in a schtill darker schade of grey," Murderface proposed as he manicured his fingernails on his hunting knife.
“This is December 24th, isn’t it?" Charles asked.
“Yeah. You usually don’t CELEBRATE THE YULETIDE SEASON, huh dude?” Nathan inquired.
“No, Nathan, I do not. You would not be inclined either, I’ll wager, if you were forced to listen to choirs of angels singing glory fucking hallelujah for 36 hours straight. But, uh," he wrenched his arm partway back from where Pickles had apparently turned it around in order to gain purchase on his exquisite frosting. "May I ask why you guys are still around? And, uh, not with your families?"
“Uh, well," Nathan began, winding up, "you know our moms, and how they all know each other and they’re always calling us and bothering us and they all have each others phone numbers and iMovie and they're all hanging out all the time and making our lives A BRUTAL LIVING HELL?”
“Ah, yeah?”
“So, like, this year? They all went off together on a CHRISTMAS CRUISE TO GUADALAJARA.”
"And, they, ah, left you boys behind to fend for yourselves?"
"Yeah. Aschholes," Murderface muttered darkly, shoving his knife soundly into the corner of Charles' desk.
"Ah, William, could you, ah, kindly refrain from stabbing my desk? I believe we have discussed this matter before."
"Schure, Cakesch," Murderface said, withdrawing the knife. Nathan snickered.
"As it happens," Charles continued, once again trying to retain his balance as Pickles took another greedy slice, "King Wotan is hosting an annual Yule party at this time. I have never attended, as I refuse to celebrate...."
"DUDE, you're saying we could be attending a DARK PAGAN RITUAL?" Nathan asked.
"Well, it's actually rather nice, so I've heard. There are blinking lights and a jazz quartet...."
"GET US TO THE YULETIDE PARTY, CAKE DUDE!" Nathan bellowed.
"Cakedenschon," Murderface repeated for emphasis.
"Nomnomnomnom," nommed Pickles.
Charles extracted his Dethphone and activated the speed dial with his free hand, only minimally poking himself in the process. “Raziel! Raziel? Well, uh, then, Thor, would you please get Raziel on the phone? You may tell her this is, uh, Sariel. Her, uh, brother. Yeah, I do actually think she will in fact know who the fuck I am. Uh, yeah, you too. Raziel! Yeah! Yes, merry Yuletide to you. No, I am not, in fact, spending the evening, as you say, jacking off into a some holly. No! Nathan is here. No, his pants are still very much on. Yeah, couldn’t be helped. Pickles is here too, and I’ll bet he would be amenable to pants removal. In fact, he’s doing that right now. OK! Look, the reason I called was, I know it’s last minute, but I have some members of the band here…. No, Toki is not here at present, but I could go get him…. Well, he will be very pleased that you feel that way about him, I’m certain. Yes, I will in fact inform him that you are sending him ‘hugs and angel kisses’ on our next meeting. No, I am not willing to deliver these things personally. No, not even after more brandy. THE REASON I am calling is, some members of the band have expressed interest in attending the, ah, festivities up at Valhalla. Now I know-“
“THEN WHY THE FUCK AREN’T THEY HERE?” Even though she had just apparated in Charles’ office (as angels are wont to do), Raziel was still screaming into her cell phone.
She was dressed in what appeared to be boughs of holly. And little else. Actually, nothing else.
“Whoa,” commented Nathan.
“Hi Nathan!” she said, still keep the phone to her ear. “Hi William! Hi Pickles!”
“Dood, I ain’t wearin’ any pants!” announced Pickles. Who wasn’t.
“Congratulations! I’m arguing with my idiot brother,” Raziel whispered, pointing at her phone
“Raziel, I am sitting here," Charles sighed.
“How did you get there?”
“You are, in fact, in my office.”
“Oh. You’re an idiot. Also, Pickles is sucking on your fingers.”
“He thinks I am gingerbread creation of some sort.”
“Dood! Yer cake!” Pickles corrected.
“Why isn’t your gingerbread ass at our party?” Raziel scolded.
“Debil’s fooood!” Pickles sucked.
“Why isn’t your devil’s food ass at our party? Ooo, devils food. Can I suck on your other fingers?”
“There will be no more finger-sucking! I am not a pastry! Pickles is experiencing a hallucination brought on my some kind of, uh, psychedelic substances.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Look, Nathan, mistletoe!” sang the little angel, leaping up onto a chair. Nathan had no sooner looked up at the sprig of greenery she was dangling over his head than she had swept him into a very passionate kiss.
“Now, find Toki, and get your fucking delicious chocolate ass to our party!” she ordered, letting go the lead singer, who promptly crashed, with a terrific thud, onto the floor. And with that, she disappeared.
“Nathan?" Charles lunged in Nathan’s direction, though It was a bit difficult maneuvering with a chemically altered drummer surgically attached to him.
“Can we go to the party now?” Nathan asked hopefully, not moving from the floor.
“Can you get Toki?”
Nathan was up on his feet almost before the last syllable had left Charles' mouth, dashing out the office door, and it seemed not a minute later when he returned, the Norwegian guitarist slung over his broad shoulder.
"Nat'ans, ams puts me downs!" Toki protested. The hulking lead singer complied, leaving the slender Norwegian sprawled on his butt on the floor.
"Dude! We gotta get to the PAGAN YULE PARTY! Before they run out of PAGANS!" Nathan informed him.
Toki stubbornly crossed his arms. "I ams not goings! You cans not makes me! Why ams Pickles sucksing on your toeses, Charles?"
"Because he's not sucking on my fingers." Charles looked over irritably to where Pickles had now removed his shoe and sock. "Dammit, that really tickles!"
"That'sch OK, Toki. You juscht schtay here," Murderface put in amiably.
"WHAT?" thundered Nathan. "But Raziel said...."
"Juscht schtay schafe from the Yule Monschter," the bassist warned, mad glow in his eyes.
Nathan suddenly got a very sly look. "Ooooohh, yeah. The YULE MONSTER."
"Wouldn't want anything to happen to our bescht little friend," Murderface speculated, plunging his knife once more into the wood of Charles' desk. "Oops, schorry, Cakeschy,” he said in responsde to the evoked glare.
"Charles, what ams dey talksing abouts?" Toki asked nervously.
"Ah, Toki, if you stay here, I can sincerely say, I cannot guarantee that you will not be unaffected by the, ah, Yule Beast...."
"Monschter."
"...Monster."
Toki regarded them suspiciously.
"WELCOME, MY GOOD FRIENDS, TO OUR ANNUAL YULETIDE FEST!" bellowed Wotan. The Norse god stood at the top of one of Valhalla's grand staircases. He was clad in a well cut three piece suit, and wore a metal helmet with two large horns.
There was much noisy clapping and cheering from the very large, and very drunken crowd.
"THIS IS A SPLENDID YEAR FOR ME, AS THIS IS THE YEAR, THE WORLD'S LOVELIEST CREATURE HAS AGREED TO BE MY WIFE!". Woman held up the hand of the holly-clad Raziel, to more raucous cheering, stomping, and applause.
"World's loveliest creature? Where is she?" came a drunken shout.
"FUCK YOU THOR!" bellowed Raziel, holding up two tiny middle fingers. Whereupon Wotan embraced her, and they kissed, to much more yelling and noise. And they kept kissing, and kept kissing....
"Ah, this is just inappropriate," grumbled a not terribly drunk Charles, who had just arrived, along with 4/5 of Dethklok.
"Pagans know how to party!" came a familiar, if inebriated voice.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Ganesh?" Charles asked the Hindu god.
Ganesh puffed some air to blow away the hair that was hanging down in his face. It stubbornly fell back down in his face. "I asked you repeatedly to accompany me! All I recall in return was a muttered 'glory fucking hallelujah' and no further explanation.”
"I didn't wanna come," Charles grumbled. “I hate fucking Yule. But I ended up babysitting.” He indicated Pickles.
"Is that Pickles?" Ganesh asked through his hair.
"Of course it's Pickles!"
“I don’t recall him being congenitally attached to your person prior to this evening!” Ganesh said, tilting his head for a better look.
Charles reached over and righted Ganesh’s glass of punch, which had also listed worryingly to the side.
“Om, creamy filling,” Pickles muttered.
“I believe that most recently he had concluded that I am a Twinkie.”
“You know Twinkies never go stale?" Ganesh informed him. "It’s a scientific fact.”
"Hey SKWISGAAR!" Nathan rumbled.
The Swede held a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh! I ams been tryings to avoids his moms all evenings," he explained, hooking a finger at Ganesh.
The Hindu god put an affectionately drunken arm around Skwisgaar's shoulders. "Awww, you have no need to avoid my mother," he said.
"No?" asked Skwisgaar nervously.
Ganesh blew his hair out of his face. It all fell back into his face. "No. It's my father you need to worry about!". He held up his glass of punch for emphasis. "He'll cut you to tiny ribbons if he sees you!" he explained, slashing with the glass, creating a fine spray of pink punch.
Skwisgaar suddenly looked even paler, and he hurriedly slipped away.
"Wait," asked Charles, shrugging off where Pickles was trying to get to the creamy filling under his jacket, "is Skwisgaar-"
"No," grinned Ganesh. "He’s fine. William has been giving me some instruction of late on how to be, as you Americans term it, a dick."
"Where did William get to, anyway?"
"He peed on the Yule log!" Raziel announced. "It exploded!"
"Oh good lord...."
"It was epic!" she grinned.
"Oh, look, uh, Raziel, dude, MISTLETOE!" Nathan told her, pointing out a sprig.
"Nathan, you get ONE YULE KISS,” the little angel told him. “Don't be greedy!"
"Ah, my pet, you can give the boy two. It is Nathan, after all," said Wotan, coming up behind her.
No sooner said, than Raziel had appeared up on a table next to Nathan, and swept him into a kiss. She let him drop into a tray of canapés, and hopped off the table. "Hi Toki!" she said.
"I ams t'anks yous for invitsing me," Toki told her. His expression was still sullen. "But I ams onlies here to avoid getsing eaten by da Yule Monster."
"She never waits 'till I'm ready," gumbled Nathan, picking shrimp puffs off his jacket as he attempted to stand.
"You have Yule Monsters?" Raziel asked.
"This is a very serious situation. You boys clearly need armaments," Wotan concluded. "Come!"
"Did schomebody schay, armaments?" asked Murderface.
"Wait, Wotan...." Charles stammered as Pickles knocked him into the Yule tree with his gnawing.
"Don't worry, Cakesch," Murderface told him.
"This will be awesome, CAKE DUDE," Nathan averred.
"We ams be fines ... Caksies!" Toki added before they all swept off with the Norse god.
"How are you, Lady Raziel?" Gamesh politely inquired.
"I'm about to murder fucking Thor," she muttered, trying to help Charles achieve a standing position.
"I know," the Hindu god grumbled, tossing his hair out of his eyes. It fell back. "But with Wotan, it's always, Thor Thor Thor!"
"Ooo, wanna see my hammer?" Raziel bitched, picking tinsel out of a furious Charles' hair.
“Compensating for anything, you think?” Ganesh asked.
"You," Charles said accusingly to Pickles, "have severely impaired my, uh, sense of authority."
"What sense of authority, Mr. Cream Filling?" asked Raziel.
"On the other hand, perhaps you could threaten them now with incipient diabetes and rampant tooth decay!" reasoned Ganesh.
"Here we are!" said Wotan, clapping Nathan on the shoulder. Nathan and Toki now carried ridiculously big swords, and Murderface wielded and equally comical axe.
"Wotan," Charles sighed, "You really shouldn't have. I mean, you really, really, REALLY shouldn't have."
"Now, go get a Yule Monster, boys!" Wotan ordered, as Dethklok made for the exit.
"Are you sure I can't behead Thor?" Raziel pouted
"Now, my little Raven," Wotan told her as they headed off, "where is your Yule spirit?"
"Maybe I'll just take his legs," the angel grumbled.
"What are going to do about Pickles?" Ganesh inquired of Charles as he picked a bit of tinsel off the Dethklok manager’s jacket.
"I dunno. Is there anything you could do with him? Like, shoot him with a tranquilizer dart?"
"I'm not sure, let me see," Ganesh said, grabbing a handful of red dreadlocks to get a look into Pickles' eyes.
Pickles suddenly gaped at Ganesh. "SAVOY TRUFFLE!" he exclaimed, as he tackled the surprised Hindu god, sending them both crashing to the floor. He ripped open Ganesh's rather expensive dress shirt and began licking his chest.
"Aw, fuck, Ganesh," Charles told him, smoothing the remains of his own jacket and straightening his tie. "I find myself feeling sorry for this. Though, not too sorry."
“Actually," Ganesh told him, still on the floor, "I find this to be a fascinating case study. I was thinking that we could, in fact, transport him back to my place, so he can receive, er, the attention he clearly deserves.”
“Uh, Ganesh, is that, ya know, ethical?”
“Sadly, I am in fact inebriated to the point that I find my decision making process to be impaired.”
"Oh." Charles regarded the two entangled beings beneath the dessert table. He was forced to admit, the results of Pickles' delusion didn't look terribly unpleasant from this angle.
"Wanna come?" asked Ganesh.
"Glory fucking hallelujah," grinned Charles.