Writer's Block (Mythklok Interstitial)
Title: Balderdash (Mythklok, Chapter 42 April Fool Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stuff happens!
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, dark and troubled pasts
Disclaimer: The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the Tikiverse.
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
This week, Charles confronts his dark and troubled past. And maybe also throws up!
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
Last week: stuff happened! Whoa, aren’t you glad I’m here to update you?
Drop a Silly Oaf
"Come on, Sariel, WE'RE GOING TO SAN SERRIFFE!"
"Raziel, what are you doing in my bedroom? And more to the point, what are we doing in my old bedroom? We moved next door and are using this small space as a closet for Ganesh's couture overflow for his other 18 closets!"
"Don't be a continuity cop. C'mon, let's all get rum drinks!"
“But what about this week’s Mythklok chapter?
“Aw, the Writer got all emo and decided to give up on Mythklok. You know writers and their moods. LET’S GET NAKED AND PARTY!” And with that she disappeared.
Charles put on his sexiest grey business suit and ventured out.
"Are you coming, jaanu?" Ganesh asked, passing him by in the corridor. He was wearing a baby bjorn.
"Waitaminnit," Charles told him. He examined the infant in the sling. It flapped a pair of downy silver wings and waggled silvery eyebrows at him. "Say! You're the Mythklok AU Ganesh!"
"Oh, who can keep all this bullshit straight anyway?” AU Ganesh sighed. “An AU to an AU. How tiresome!”
Charles watched as Ganesh and the snotty baby disappeared. Suddenly, Nathan Explosion’s burly but gentle arms were around him. Nathan caressed his body in an erotic but nonetheless strangely heterosexual manner. He smelled like a man.
"Nathan, what...."
"What will the media think of our illicit affair?" Nathan wailed.
"We're not having an illicit affair - for one thing, you're straight in this universe!"
"But I brought a tube of lube!" Nathan said, proudly holding it up.
"Forget it.”
“NOOOOOO!” howled Nathan.
Charles stumbled down the hall. Suddenly, his dark and troubled past came to confront him. He doubled over and threw up.
"Aw, ams you has da darks and troubled past, Charl?" Toki inquired. "Ams you needs da innocents Toki hugs whats will lead to NC-17 ratingses?"
“No,” grunted Charles, wiping his mouth. “Where the heck is Pickles?”
“I ams not knows. Here, asks Williams!”
“Wanna schlasch, aschhole?”
“Uh, that would be a no. And what about Dick Knubbler?”
“I’m getting tired of all the Mythklok subtexscht. I wanna pr0n schene.”
“William, this is slash fandom! You’re lucky you haven’t been sent off to tour Civil War battlefields!”
“Pfft!”
“And what do you want, Skwisgaar?” he asked the sneering guitarist.
“I ams needs to talks to Tokis and tells hims I don’t wants to sees him no more so we cans has da sexy sexes scenes.”
“You’re not seeing him in this continuity.”
“No?”
“No. So far you’ve been involved with a Hindu love goddess, AU Ganesh, and, briefly, me.”
“Yous? Pfft!”
“Well, same to you. Where the fuck is Pickles?”
“Pickle ams ins da mens room. Pfffft.”
Charles entered the bathroom to see Pickles wildly waving a PVC bottle. “Here! Drink da bleach!”
“Pickles! No! This is not your musical.”
Regardless, Pickles had started singing,
Once upon a time I was Small’s canon Sue
But now I’m just a Yooper accent.
Nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the bleach
Charles threw down his drumsticks in disgust. “Pickles! I don’t wanna do another half-baked Jim Steinman parody! I need you to take me to the Writer. IMMEDIATELY.”
“Yoo wanna see da Writer? Dood. Ew.”
“Pickles! Do you wanna slash again?”
“Well, yeh. But I don’t wanna go near no Writer dood. Yecch.”
“I WILL send you to the AU where where Murderface is twins!”
“Okey. Okey, dood. C’mon.” Pickles grabbed Charles’ arm and they started to Walk. They ended up in a bohemian neighborhood.
“Dis is all da closer I get, dood. Yoo shure yoo wouldn’t radder drink some bleach margaritas an’ sing dramatical songs wit’ me?”
“No, I gotta do this,” Charles told him, throwing off his tie. Pickles shrugged and Walked off, gargling a big gulp of tasty bleach.
Sariel removed his jacket, went to True Form and Walked on through the front door. The floor was littered with pizza boxes and little cocktail umbrellas. In one corner was a pile of empty Kahlua bottles and Chinese takeout cartons. There were two stockinged feet sticking out from under the pile.
Sariel kicked one of the feet. “Hey, are you the Writer?”
“Go away!”
“You need to get off the fucking floor and write the next chapter.”
“I don’t wanna write! It’s gotten to silly and complicated! I’m depressed! I’m out of mu shu! Nobody loves me! I feel bloated!”
Sariel gave a silvery scowl and flapped his wings irritably. He grabbed an ankle and pulled.
The Writer glared up at him. “Who dares disturb the Great and Powerful Writer?”
“Get off the floor and WRITE ME A FUCKING CHAPTER,” he ordered. “Now!”
The Writer glowered back, but then sighed. “I can’t,” she whined.
“Why the fuck not?”
She sighed again and stood, flicking off ramen noodles. “OK. Follow me. I’ll show you.”
They walked through a long hallway. The walls were completely covered with bits of yarn.
“What the fuck?” asked Sariel.
“Oh. Those are my hanging plot threads.”
They got to a darkened, cave-like room, where The Writer pulled out a brightly colored computer.
"Wait. You write slash on a Yo Gabba Gabba laptop?" Sariel asked.
"Oh, quit yer bitching."
She opened a file and sighed yet again.
"Hey, this is actually not bad,” Sariel commented, reading over her shoulder.
"Keep scrolling."
"Fuck, you write long chapters. Had you ever thought-"
"NO!"
"Tsk. Touchy. This is fine, it just needs an ending."
“I can’t think of an ending,” she sighed, her head sinking to the laptop. Her forehead hit a row of keys. “It’s all gotten too weird and complicated.”
"Come on. We'll write an ending. Here. Now. Here. Now. Here. Now."
"Quit acting in character!"
"Yeah. That definitely never happens in your fics! Whoa, where did you get that?" he asked as she suddenly pulled out a gorgeous Underwood typewriter.
“Whenever writers depict writers writing stuff, they have to use and old fashioned typewriter. Know your tropes!”
“So, do you have any ideas about what comes next?”
“No. I’m completely blocked.”
“Look, just start typing. Whatever comes into your head!”
Charles sat behind his desk, looking terribly sexy in a grey business suit.
"You look SEXY in your GREY BUSINESS SUIT," commented Nathan Explosion.
"I must confront my dark and troubled past," Charles told Nathan.
"LOOKEE! I brought a tube of lube!" giggled Narthan. "Hey, wait, dude, you need to vomit into your wastebasket."
"No," Sariel grumbled, ripping out the paper. “No character derailment.”
"Well, I never could write N/C anyway. OK, how about this...."
“I ams hates you, Skwisgaar!”
“Pfft.”
“Let’s haves da make ups sexes!”
“Ja, sure.”
“What does S/T have to do with your fucking universe?
“Aw, but they’re so cute together!”
“You need an end for the chapter!”
“OK, let’s try this….”
Brand new Gear number 1138 swept back her long lustrous hair and blinked her rainbow colored eyes. “This is my very first day with Dethklok! I hope the masters all like me, despite the fact that I am Charles’ long lost daughter through his dark and troubled past….”
“Will you marry me?” asked Nathan Explosion. “Lookee! I brought my tube of lube!”
Sariel ripped the page out of the typewriter and crumpled it.
“Look, Sariel, why don’t you just go play in the AU where you’re a sexy schoolteacher?”
“I don’t feel like doing a gender flip right now, and I definitely don’t wanna slash a Mary Sue…”
“You’re not slashing her, she’s your daughter from the dark and troubled past that always makes you vomit.”
“I just want a goddam ending! I don’t wanna vomit! And no more dark and troubled past bullshit. Why can't I just enjoy being an asshole?"
“OK, how about this?”
Charles sat back and thought about his rather pleasant childhood in suburban New Jersey.
“Come here, Pumpkin Cakes,” winked Mr. Selatcia, waving a handy tube of lube.
“Oh, hells no!” growled Sariel, irritably rattling his wings and crumpling yet another sheet.
“Damn you’re one fussy bitch,” observed the Writer.
“I just want a good Mythklok ending! I wanna whack some mother with a big fucking sword, and end up ass deep in my Hindu love god boyfriend!”
“Well, if you think it’s so goddam easy, Mr. Smarty Angel, why don’t you write it?”
“OK, I will! I will ghost write your chapter!”
“How the hell are you gonna ghost write?”
“Pfft! How hard can it be? I will ANGEL WRITE your chapter. Move it!”
“Angels can’t write worth shit! EVERYBODY KNOWS THIS.”
“Oh yes we can! Move your emo fangirl ass and let a pro try!”
The Writer scowled resentfully as Sariel sat behind the antique typewriter and began to hit keys in a rhythmic fashion.
Several drafts later….
“Whaddya think?” Sariel asked.
“This is your ending? You have a three-way and then eat pie?”
“I’m rather proud of it,” he puffed, unfolding his wings and giving them a rather good flap, which sent all the crumpled scraps of paper in the room fluttering.
“’Ganesh carressed his throbbing….’ Good god, you can’t write porn for shit.”
“That wasn’t bad!”
“Is this even physically possible?”
“It might be! Ganesh has a lot of arms,” Sariel grumbled.
“But is he triple-jointed?”
“Uh. Maybe….”
“OK,” said the Writer. “Look, I have another idea. Let me try again.”
Several more drafts later….
Sariel shuffled through the papers. He looked up at the writer. “So. This was your brilliant idea? We eat pie, and then have a three-way?” He arched his wings skeptically.
"You wanted an ending." The writer scowled menacingly. “So. What do you think?”
“Uhhhh. Brilliant and fresh?”
“OK. I'll accept that comment.”
“Well, now that that’s taken care of, I’m going to catch up with everybody at San Serriffe. Wanna come?”
“I dunno. Do they have cocktails?”
“With little umbrellas!”
“Yeah. Sure. As long as I can get alcohol poisoning.”
The Writer True Formed.
“They make wings that color?” Sariel laughed.
“Don’t be a douche. Hey, you think I could get in on that three way with Ganesh?”
“No.”
“What? Why not, I wrote him!”
“No. No character derailment.”
“But he’s got a hot ass!”
“Your fault. You should have written him straighter.”
“Pffft.”
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stuff happens!
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, dark and troubled pasts
Disclaimer: The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the Tikiverse.
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
This week, Charles confronts his dark and troubled past. And maybe also throws up!
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
Last week: stuff happened! Whoa, aren’t you glad I’m here to update you?
Drop a Silly Oaf
"Come on, Sariel, WE'RE GOING TO SAN SERRIFFE!"
"Raziel, what are you doing in my bedroom? And more to the point, what are we doing in my old bedroom? We moved next door and are using this small space as a closet for Ganesh's couture overflow for his other 18 closets!"
"Don't be a continuity cop. C'mon, let's all get rum drinks!"
“But what about this week’s Mythklok chapter?
“Aw, the Writer got all emo and decided to give up on Mythklok. You know writers and their moods. LET’S GET NAKED AND PARTY!” And with that she disappeared.
Charles put on his sexiest grey business suit and ventured out.
"Are you coming, jaanu?" Ganesh asked, passing him by in the corridor. He was wearing a baby bjorn.
"Waitaminnit," Charles told him. He examined the infant in the sling. It flapped a pair of downy silver wings and waggled silvery eyebrows at him. "Say! You're the Mythklok AU Ganesh!"
"Oh, who can keep all this bullshit straight anyway?” AU Ganesh sighed. “An AU to an AU. How tiresome!”
Charles watched as Ganesh and the snotty baby disappeared. Suddenly, Nathan Explosion’s burly but gentle arms were around him. Nathan caressed his body in an erotic but nonetheless strangely heterosexual manner. He smelled like a man.
"Nathan, what...."
"What will the media think of our illicit affair?" Nathan wailed.
"We're not having an illicit affair - for one thing, you're straight in this universe!"
"But I brought a tube of lube!" Nathan said, proudly holding it up.
"Forget it.”
“NOOOOOO!” howled Nathan.
Charles stumbled down the hall. Suddenly, his dark and troubled past came to confront him. He doubled over and threw up.
"Aw, ams you has da darks and troubled past, Charl?" Toki inquired. "Ams you needs da innocents Toki hugs whats will lead to NC-17 ratingses?"
“No,” grunted Charles, wiping his mouth. “Where the heck is Pickles?”
“I ams not knows. Here, asks Williams!”
“Wanna schlasch, aschhole?”
“Uh, that would be a no. And what about Dick Knubbler?”
“I’m getting tired of all the Mythklok subtexscht. I wanna pr0n schene.”
“William, this is slash fandom! You’re lucky you haven’t been sent off to tour Civil War battlefields!”
“Pfft!”
“And what do you want, Skwisgaar?” he asked the sneering guitarist.
“I ams needs to talks to Tokis and tells hims I don’t wants to sees him no more so we cans has da sexy sexes scenes.”
“You’re not seeing him in this continuity.”
“No?”
“No. So far you’ve been involved with a Hindu love goddess, AU Ganesh, and, briefly, me.”
“Yous? Pfft!”
“Well, same to you. Where the fuck is Pickles?”
“Pickle ams ins da mens room. Pfffft.”
Charles entered the bathroom to see Pickles wildly waving a PVC bottle. “Here! Drink da bleach!”
“Pickles! No! This is not your musical.”
Regardless, Pickles had started singing,
Once upon a time I was Small’s canon Sue
But now I’m just a Yooper accent.
Nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the bleach
Charles threw down his drumsticks in disgust. “Pickles! I don’t wanna do another half-baked Jim Steinman parody! I need you to take me to the Writer. IMMEDIATELY.”
“Yoo wanna see da Writer? Dood. Ew.”
“Pickles! Do you wanna slash again?”
“Well, yeh. But I don’t wanna go near no Writer dood. Yecch.”
“I WILL send you to the AU where where Murderface is twins!”
“Okey. Okey, dood. C’mon.” Pickles grabbed Charles’ arm and they started to Walk. They ended up in a bohemian neighborhood.
“Dis is all da closer I get, dood. Yoo shure yoo wouldn’t radder drink some bleach margaritas an’ sing dramatical songs wit’ me?”
“No, I gotta do this,” Charles told him, throwing off his tie. Pickles shrugged and Walked off, gargling a big gulp of tasty bleach.
Sariel removed his jacket, went to True Form and Walked on through the front door. The floor was littered with pizza boxes and little cocktail umbrellas. In one corner was a pile of empty Kahlua bottles and Chinese takeout cartons. There were two stockinged feet sticking out from under the pile.
Sariel kicked one of the feet. “Hey, are you the Writer?”
“Go away!”
“You need to get off the fucking floor and write the next chapter.”
“I don’t wanna write! It’s gotten to silly and complicated! I’m depressed! I’m out of mu shu! Nobody loves me! I feel bloated!”
Sariel gave a silvery scowl and flapped his wings irritably. He grabbed an ankle and pulled.
The Writer glared up at him. “Who dares disturb the Great and Powerful Writer?”
“Get off the floor and WRITE ME A FUCKING CHAPTER,” he ordered. “Now!”
The Writer glowered back, but then sighed. “I can’t,” she whined.
“Why the fuck not?”
She sighed again and stood, flicking off ramen noodles. “OK. Follow me. I’ll show you.”
They walked through a long hallway. The walls were completely covered with bits of yarn.
“What the fuck?” asked Sariel.
“Oh. Those are my hanging plot threads.”
They got to a darkened, cave-like room, where The Writer pulled out a brightly colored computer.
"Wait. You write slash on a Yo Gabba Gabba laptop?" Sariel asked.
"Oh, quit yer bitching."
She opened a file and sighed yet again.
"Hey, this is actually not bad,” Sariel commented, reading over her shoulder.
"Keep scrolling."
"Fuck, you write long chapters. Had you ever thought-"
"NO!"
"Tsk. Touchy. This is fine, it just needs an ending."
“I can’t think of an ending,” she sighed, her head sinking to the laptop. Her forehead hit a row of keys. “It’s all gotten too weird and complicated.”
"Come on. We'll write an ending. Here. Now. Here. Now. Here. Now."
"Quit acting in character!"
"Yeah. That definitely never happens in your fics! Whoa, where did you get that?" he asked as she suddenly pulled out a gorgeous Underwood typewriter.
“Whenever writers depict writers writing stuff, they have to use and old fashioned typewriter. Know your tropes!”
“So, do you have any ideas about what comes next?”
“No. I’m completely blocked.”
“Look, just start typing. Whatever comes into your head!”
Charles sat behind his desk, looking terribly sexy in a grey business suit.
"You look SEXY in your GREY BUSINESS SUIT," commented Nathan Explosion.
"I must confront my dark and troubled past," Charles told Nathan.
"LOOKEE! I brought a tube of lube!" giggled Narthan. "Hey, wait, dude, you need to vomit into your wastebasket."
"No," Sariel grumbled, ripping out the paper. “No character derailment.”
"Well, I never could write N/C anyway. OK, how about this...."
“I ams hates you, Skwisgaar!”
“Pfft.”
“Let’s haves da make ups sexes!”
“Ja, sure.”
“What does S/T have to do with your fucking universe?
“Aw, but they’re so cute together!”
“You need an end for the chapter!”
“OK, let’s try this….”
Brand new Gear number 1138 swept back her long lustrous hair and blinked her rainbow colored eyes. “This is my very first day with Dethklok! I hope the masters all like me, despite the fact that I am Charles’ long lost daughter through his dark and troubled past….”
“Will you marry me?” asked Nathan Explosion. “Lookee! I brought my tube of lube!”
Sariel ripped the page out of the typewriter and crumpled it.
“Look, Sariel, why don’t you just go play in the AU where you’re a sexy schoolteacher?”
“I don’t feel like doing a gender flip right now, and I definitely don’t wanna slash a Mary Sue…”
“You’re not slashing her, she’s your daughter from the dark and troubled past that always makes you vomit.”
“I just want a goddam ending! I don’t wanna vomit! And no more dark and troubled past bullshit. Why can't I just enjoy being an asshole?"
“OK, how about this?”
Charles sat back and thought about his rather pleasant childhood in suburban New Jersey.
“Come here, Pumpkin Cakes,” winked Mr. Selatcia, waving a handy tube of lube.
“Oh, hells no!” growled Sariel, irritably rattling his wings and crumpling yet another sheet.
“Damn you’re one fussy bitch,” observed the Writer.
“I just want a good Mythklok ending! I wanna whack some mother with a big fucking sword, and end up ass deep in my Hindu love god boyfriend!”
“Well, if you think it’s so goddam easy, Mr. Smarty Angel, why don’t you write it?”
“OK, I will! I will ghost write your chapter!”
“How the hell are you gonna ghost write?”
“Pfft! How hard can it be? I will ANGEL WRITE your chapter. Move it!”
“Angels can’t write worth shit! EVERYBODY KNOWS THIS.”
“Oh yes we can! Move your emo fangirl ass and let a pro try!”
The Writer scowled resentfully as Sariel sat behind the antique typewriter and began to hit keys in a rhythmic fashion.
Several drafts later….
“Whaddya think?” Sariel asked.
“This is your ending? You have a three-way and then eat pie?”
“I’m rather proud of it,” he puffed, unfolding his wings and giving them a rather good flap, which sent all the crumpled scraps of paper in the room fluttering.
“’Ganesh carressed his throbbing….’ Good god, you can’t write porn for shit.”
“That wasn’t bad!”
“Is this even physically possible?”
“It might be! Ganesh has a lot of arms,” Sariel grumbled.
“But is he triple-jointed?”
“Uh. Maybe….”
“OK,” said the Writer. “Look, I have another idea. Let me try again.”
Several more drafts later….
Sariel shuffled through the papers. He looked up at the writer. “So. This was your brilliant idea? We eat pie, and then have a three-way?” He arched his wings skeptically.
"You wanted an ending." The writer scowled menacingly. “So. What do you think?”
“Uhhhh. Brilliant and fresh?”
“OK. I'll accept that comment.”
“Well, now that that’s taken care of, I’m going to catch up with everybody at San Serriffe. Wanna come?”
“I dunno. Do they have cocktails?”
“With little umbrellas!”
“Yeah. Sure. As long as I can get alcohol poisoning.”
The Writer True Formed.
“They make wings that color?” Sariel laughed.
“Don’t be a douche. Hey, you think I could get in on that three way with Ganesh?”
“No.”
“What? Why not, I wrote him!”
“No. No character derailment.”
“But he’s got a hot ass!”
“Your fault. You should have written him straighter.”
“Pffft.”