“F-fucks you, Skwisgaar…y-you’s such a h-heartsless f-fuck,” the rhythm guitarist sobbed, his voice barely audible. There was a bang from just down the table as Toki threw his silverware down. We turns de albums release into a fareswells parties, eh?” Toki stood there for a moment, shaking, before Skwisgaar sat back down in relief, turning back to his dinner and cocking his eyebrows. Once the table was mostly clear, Murderface wiped his face with the back of his hairy arm and turned, wheezing, to storm out of the dining room. He grabbed what he could off of the table and threw it at Skwisgaar, narrowly missing the guitarist each time, and Skwisgaar jerked around in panic, trying to reach for defensive ammo but unable to grab anything substantial. “You want me out of the fucking band, Schkwischgaar? Fine. “I quit,” Murderface spat, his entire body shaking, his face red and furious, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “D-don’ts, please, please stops, it ams okays, wes all sits downs and we-” Toki shook his head violently, pain clotting in his throat. Murderface threw his plate across the table at Skwisgaar’s head, and luckily his aim was terrible and Skwisgaar saw it coming: it shattered against the wall, spraying food and porcelain everywhere. “You don’ts talks to me, Tokis, you means not’ingks, you’s almost as dumb a dildos as dis stupids, fats, uglies piece of shits…what, why you looks so surprised? You knows it…alls he dos ams screamingks and complains abouts stupids craps, and he take and take and dos not’ings…nobodies likes hims, nobodies cares, he ams a dumb dildos and you ams a dumb dildos for tryingks to bes a friends for such a fucksing crappy guy…such a fucks-up, such a wort’less assholes, looks at him sits der, can’ts evens gets a lady, can’ts evens figures out his own parts on de stupids bass guitars, such a cries-baby, t’inks dat he lose de weight and bes handsome, pfah, looks at him, nobodies coulds ever loves dats-” “ YOU SHUTS UP!!!” Skwisgaar snarled, slamming his good fist on the table.
“You woulds,” Skwisgaar growled: the first words he’d said at a full dinner table in a long, long time. When asked why he was eating so healthily, Murderface poked at his food and said that he was trying to lose weight. Jean-Pierre was, as always, deeply understanding. It was passed on to Charles, who in turn passed it on to Jean-Pierre with specific instructions to keep quiet about the reason for the diet change. He was surprisingly submissive, when Toki told him that he needed to obey the list as much as possible. Murderface went reluctantly back to the hospital to ask if he could do anything for the nausea and sickness, and he came back with a list of vitamins he should take and foods he needed to avoid. Other nights he was luckier and got to the bathroom, but he was sick without fail every time he woke up, and Toki wearily cleaned up each mess, quietly soothing the bassist and assuring him that it was okay. Some nights he just woke up and vomited, not even able to sit up before the wave came. He didn’t exactly enjoy crying, and in his opinion, doing it once was doing it quite enough.Ī couple of days came where Murderface was too sick to even get out of bed. In a way, Charles was glad that they didn’t come together. They never came in together again, but either Toki or Murderface would stick their head in at least once a day to check on to the progress of their getaway, usually earning a nod or an encouraging word from Charles. He made arrangements for a rental car to be waiting for them at the airport. He made reservations at a tiny bed and breakfast just outside of Lillehammer. He procured plane tickets on a commercial flight to Norway-no one would ever suspect anything if they left and arrived like regular people, and that would in turn keep the press away from them. He was the only one that noticed.Ĭharles worked his ass off, planning the album release party and the secret escape of the bassist and guitarist alongside each other, keeping a straight face all the while. Toki and Murderface ate in silence, Toki watching carefully as the bassist ate less and less with each passing day. It bothered Nathan and Pickles, though they said nothing about it if they could help it. Mealtimes were still tense, and the five of them rarely sat all together, anymore. Skwisgaar’s hand had healed, and he practiced more often than ever, trying to make up for lost time, as Pickles said jokingly. Toki fulfills one of Murderface's fantasies. Warnings: (at times, really nasty) sex, self-harm, gore, excessive angst, Murderface being himself.Ĭharacters This Chapter: Murderface, Toki, Skwisgaar, Nathan, Pickles.Ĭhapter Summary: Murderface feels.a little better. Title: The Inevitable Undoing of William Murderface What you think happens this chapter.happens.