#as are the rest of dethklok with their respective baggage

[basu-shokikita]

the way some people talk about skwisgaar like he's a bastion of feminism and not a rockstar with actual issues towards women and sex (originating from his childhood trauma and perpetuated thanks to his lifestyle)

[sourbat]

10, hammertooth or nathan/abigail? :O

Alright, let’s try some Nathagail! 

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

This prompt also took its own path, but i’m weirdly proud of how it tuned out. I hope you like it :) 

Charles said the job would be difficult, describing it as strenuous, constant and, most of all, thankless. He said with an unwavering expression, with eyes that told no secrets, leaving Abigail only with that ominous warning to guide her through the coming months. And there was some truth to his words. Dethklok was a successful band, but it was not without its baggage, and Abigail quickly learned that Toki wasn’t the only member with more than his fair share of issues that needed handling. She only worked with the band a few times prior, earning their favor and respect in the process, and had an inkling there was far more to each member than they were willing to let on (though she had a feeling no amount of friendliness would get the crew to open and express said concerns). And so, despite the gory video clips, lawyers asking her to review her will and testament, and being handed pages of Mordhaus’ layout, contracts that she would need to memorize, and paperwork for upcoming courses on physical fitness, marksmanship, kinesiology and child psychology, Abigail took the job.

She expected her first few weeks as manager to be chaotic. There were several courses she needed to attend to build her physical and mental prowess, classes on Mordhuas’ history, and lessons on how to manipulate and create Facebones videos for the band and staff. There were meetings regarding the transfer of power, the upcoming conversations with the new head of the company, and, of course, the band itself. 

Abigail woke up to a light knock, early in the morning of her second week as Dethklok’s manager. The dim lighting emitting from her half-drawn curtain suggested the sun hadn’t quite risen yet, and when Abigail checked her phone, saw it would be another 40 minutes before her morning alarm. There was yet another knock, and she scuttled out of bed. Abigail expected a klokateer on the other side to alert her of some obstacle course that she missed, but when she opened the door, saw Nathan standing there, small brown bag in hand.  

“Oh, cool, you’re awake,” he said. He rested his intense, domineering stare upon her, starting with the wild curls that had freed themselves from her silken hair net, the lines that dragged from the corner of her eyes, then down to her powdered blue pajamas that were wrinkled and tight in some places, baggy in other areas. He supplied her an affirming nod. “You look great.”

Abigail rubbed her eyes. “Nathan, you’re…awake?”

“Well, yeah,” Nathan answered, stowing his free hand deep within the confines of his jean pocket, then turned his head slightly to the side so that his hair partly hid the subtle changes to his expression. He lifted the brown bag. “I made you lunch. It’s a ham sandwich, with mustard.”

“Oh.” Abigail took the lunch that was practically shoved into her arms. Once she had it, Nathan withdrew again, crossing his arms and looking away while she carefully opened the bag, internally sighing with relief when at the completely regular sight of a few plastic bags bearing what appeared to be crudely chopped apples and baby carrots. “How sweet,” she said, looking up from the brown bag to see Nathan chewing a nail. “Thank you.”

Nathan smiled at the compliment.  “We better hurry,” he stated. “You got like…fifteen minutes before you’re late to your first meeting.”

“Are you serious?” Abigail asked, letting her arms drop to the side. “I thought for sure I had my schedule down to a tee.” 

“There were some last-minute changes.”

Well, that explained why Nathan was awake at this hour. 

“I’ll say.” Abigail hurried back into her room, not minding when Nathan slowly followed her.

There was hardly any time to fix her hair or apply makeup, much less ask Nathan to please stay out of her way while she tried to condense an hour’s worth of morning rituals to less than five. Luckily for her, Nathan was more than willing to sit quietly at the edge of her bed, his naturalized glare chasing after her every move as she raced to put on her outfit and grab a small travel makeup to take with her to whatever room, station, or field that would serve to fill her morning with laborious tasks.

“Do you know where this meeting is being held?” she asked while hovering over some hair scrunchies that she didn’t want to wear on her first day on the job, but succumbed to grabbing a set, along with some pins and rubber bands.

Nathan quickly rose to his feet. “Follow me.”

As it would turn out, having Nathan around proved to be quite beneficial. He guided her through the dark, twisting halls of Mordhaus, carrying her lunch on one hand, and the opened makeup bag across his raised arm. Though he mentioned a clear time constraint, Nathan’s pace never once broke from Abigail’s, and he continued remaining aligned with her, at an arm’s length. Thankfully, Abigail managed to fix herself a fine layer of foundation, eyeliner and blush. It wasn’t much, but it made Abigail feel a little better about her outward appearance.

They were five minutes late past Nathan’s suggested time when they finally arrived at a small door at the end of a dark, dreary hallway. Abigail noticed the silence, the lack of screams and pleas, and wondered just where she was. Then Nathan opened the door, revealing a small, homely looking room decorated with faded pink wallpaper, worn furniture, and a single fern tucked in the corner. Sitting in one of the couches was an older gentleman was cybernetic arms, and as Abigail entered the room, caught his attention.

“Good morning!” the man said, waving a shiny, mechanical hand. “You’re a bit late, but that’s fine. Come in, come in. We got a lot to talk about.”  He stood up to greet her, shaking her hand and giving a warm smile to a silent Nathan. “Well, I’m sure Nathan’s already mentioned it, but I’m Dr. Twinkletits. I’ll be your therapist for the next four to six weeks.”

Abigail was taken aback. “Excuse me?” She turned to Nathan, who was leaning by the doorway.   

Nathan shrugged. “Well, yeah?”

“I don’t recall Mr. Offdensen–”

“I signed you up,” Nathan interrupted. He crinkled the top of the already worn lunch bag, large hands nervously fidgeting for something more adequate and time consuming. Abigail watched, crossing her arms as she patiently waited for Nathan to explain. Nathan looked away in defiance, continuing to play with the lunch bag for a few more seconds before finally caving in. “I, uhhh, figured maybe…before you started working…”

Abigail brought a hand to mouth when she caught sight of a burgeoning shade of crimson starting to form around the man’s sharp cheeks.  

“I wanted to make sure you started your day, alright?” Nathan stiffly grunted, embarrassed at his own words. “So, uhh, yeah.  I signed you up for an hour of therapy every week.”

He turned away, hand shifting into fists that shook, and scowl that twisted uncomfortably when Abigail approached and laid a hand on his massive shoulder.   

“That’s… really thoughtful of you, Nate,” she said, her smile melting the larger man’s muscles, softening Nathan  just enough that he didn’t mind showing off the worry that he kept hidden behind each deep blue iris. She rested both hands on top of his chest, feeling his resting heart slow as he finally faced her head-on. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, well.” The bag Nathan carried swayed as he brought his arms up, raising his defenses one final time. “Go ask him. That’s his job.”

“I will.”

Nathan dropped his arms. “And don’t tell anyone about this. About me.”

Abigail chuckled at the request. “I won’t,” she promised.

He handed Abigail the makeshift lunch. “Don’t forget to eat your lunch.”

“I won’t.”

“And, uhh.” Nathan rubbed his heel into the stone pavement. “Have a nice day.”

“I will, thank you,” Abigail said.

“Well, if that’s all said and done, let’s get started,” Dr. Twinkletits announced. “Abigail, how about you take a seat over there?”

She parted from Nathan and reentered the small room to take her seat. Abigail squeezed her lunch bag, lips pulling into a tight-lipped grin at the sounds of a sandwich being crushed under her shaking arms. Was she nervous, she pondered, sensing a tinge of concern for herself as she settled into a cushion. Since taking the job, she hardly had any time to think about her condition. There was the occasional nightmare, those rare moments when she was alone in a long, dark hallway that made her stomach knot, her heart rate increase, but Abigail assumed one of the many courses assigned to her would eventually tackle these issues. Well, turns out she’d been right, though not in the way she expected. 

Abigail placed her small makeup bag and lunch besides her, and smiled warmly at her odd-looking therapist. The man was certainly a sight to behold. Knubbler aside, Abigail wasn’t quite used to seeing someone with robotic attachments. But the man carried a gentle, if not eccentric disposition, and if Nathan recommended him, Abigail had to assume he was the best Dethklok had around.

Abigail exhaled. She had a therapist now. A rush of relief set in, and she brought her hands together, finding that, she too, needed something to do with her now shaking hands. She was so caught up, so unprepared that she didn’t notice the peck on her cheek, followed by a hushed “see you later” provided by Nathan. Somehow, he managed that large, scowling mouth to alter itself into something small, and so subtle that Abigail didn’t pick up on its presence, not right away. She barely registered the flash, the cascading flow of jet black hair in her peripheral, and the muffled, but prominent sounds of Nathan stepping out of the room. It wouldn’t be until long after her first meeting with Twinkletits was over, after introducing and explaining her situation, and having a good cry upon hearing her own words describe the event, did she recall that faint sensation, and it wasn’t until she picked up her crushed lunch filled with misshapen, cut apples and two fruit-rollup packets, did that phantom kiss return, singeing her right cheek and alerting that even the great Charles Offdensen could sometimes be wrong.