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Title: Mahmy Dearest (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Some band members wrestle with demons. Or themselves as demons. Or something.
Warnings: It's a nice weekend, you should probably be outside instead of in here reading slash.
Notes: This is just something that bugged me since the end of the last MotherKlok.


“Yes, Nathan. I am going to take care of it.”

“We can’t have Toki performing LIKE THAT!” the lead singer groused, gesturing dramatically across the rehearsal stage with one clawed hand at the rhythm guitarist, who was currently sporting a pair of rather impressive power-blue feathery wings.

Nathan stomped a cloven hoof, leaving another dent in the stage, and snorted.

“I ams likes him dat way,” sniffed Skwisgaar, who was referring to Toki, and not the demon Formed lead singer.

“HE CAN’T PLAY GUITAR LIKE THAT!” Nathan bellowed down at the Swede. At eight foot plus from hoofed feet to the top of his horned head, Nathan struck an impressive figure.

“Pffft. Hims can’t play guitar anyways,” noted Skwisgaar, who didn’t seem intimidated in the least.

“All right. OK guys. Nathan?” asked Charles, who had just skillfully inserted himself between the two feuding musicians.

“Yeah, what?” growled Nathan, still staring over Charles's head at Skwisgaar.

“I need to deal with that other matter, so could you please escort Boon to my office?” Charles pointed down to his small son, who stood beside him, blinking up innocently at Nathan. Elias’ faithful black wolf pup put in an agreeing yip.

“Boonie go to Daddy office wid Nate Nate?” inquired Elias, squinting over dark-tinted eyeglasses.

Nathan cast a last sneer at Skwisgaar, but then said, “Yeah, sure. Hey, did the kid always have GLASSES like that?”

“No, those are new,” Charles told him. “They are actually just sunglasses. Ganesh is concerned his eyes may have become sensitive to the light.”

“Hey, yeah, OK. BOON, you wanna RIDE?” asked Nathan.

Elias grinned and jammed out his arms, and was soon, screaming, hoisted up sit on one of Nathan’s extra broad shoulders. They stalked off, Murgatroyd pattering and yipping after them.

“Just be careful of doorways, guys!” called Charles. He turned to face the remaining musicians. “OK. I’ll be back soon,” he told Skwisgaar, Toki and Murderface. “You guys just stay here.”

“I’m not exschpecting to go anywhere schoon,” Murderface informed him.

“Uh, very well, William. Are you quite certain that Pickles wants you to carve your initials into his drum kit like that.”

Murderface paused, pointing his knife. “It’sch not my inischialsch, it’sch the Planet Pissch logo!” he corrected.

“OK. Well, wouldn't you rather wait until you can ask him about this?”


“Well, he will be, William. He will be. Now, everybody, carry on,” said Charles.

“How can I carry on if he aschksch me not to carry on?” grumbled Murderface.

“Ams conbuzzling,” agreed Skwisgaar.

Out in the hallway, Charles looked down at the orange and black striped cub which was winding around his legs, and making it mildly difficult to walk. “You're coming with me, Hobbes? OK, but there's not going to be any pie there,” he warned the small tiger.

“Here you go, kiddo!” said Nathan, swinging Elias back down to the floor. The child immediately scampered for his father's desk, where he clambered up into Charles' large chair.

“Huh. You kinda look like your dad now,” said Nathan, settling his demon butt into a specially reinforced guest chair (which Charles had had custom made after a recent unpleasant episode). “I mean, with the little glasses and shit.”

“Uh-huh! Boon id Tarl Fos Offysen!” agreed Elias, who cheerfully opened up a middle desk drawer and yanked out one of his father's red ties, which he draped artfully around his neck. He whacked a little hand on the desk. “Fuggin wid da bread an budda!”

Nathan let out a chuckle, but then quickly stifled it. He leaned over, leading to creaks of protest from the chair, and putting his demon-horned head closer to the boy. “Uhhh. Boon, you know your dad said you're not supposed to use WORDS LIKE THAT!” he told Elias, wagging a taloned finger.

“No?” asked Elias, wide-eyed. “Whyyyyyyy?” he inquired

“Because it's not NICE!” scolded Nathan.

“Whyyyyyyy?” persisted Elias, peering over his dark glasses.

“Just because!”

“Cause whyyyyyyy?”

Nathan cast a demon eye on Elias. “OK, now you're just fucking with me, right. Uh, oops!”

Elias dramatically covered his mouth and pointed at Nathan. “Da bad Daddy word!” he accused.

“Yeah, well, I'm a BAD DEMON I guess.”


“Whaddya mean?” asked Nathan, who was now scowling.

“Wunky Nate-Nate id da hooman!” Elias informed Nathan.

“Well, usually. But now I'm a TERRIBLE DEMON.

“NO!” giggled Elias, shaking his head so hard he nearly knocked off his sunglasses. He mashed his hand on a lens to push them back up his nose. “Unky Nate-Nate id da hooman. Da hooman had da hooman maddik!”

“I have.... What?” asked Nathan.

Elias wriggled up on to his knees in the large chair so he could lean forward to his elbows, intertwining the fingers of his little hands. He let out a loud sigh. “Da hoomans had da hooman maddik! An, da wungels had da wungel maddik. An da demon had da demon maddik.”

“Wait. You mean even in this body, you know I'm a HUMAN?” asked Nathan.

“Uh-HUH!” agreed Elias, now wriggling sideways to poke in another desk drawer. “Id Daddy had da bie?” he asked.

Charles knocked softly. Hearing no answer, he tried the knob, carefully opening the door just a fraction. “Uh, Pickles? Can we come in?”

Hobbes the tiger regarded Charles for a moment, and then pushed on in. Charles followed. “Well, OK, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it in there.”

The room was dark, and full of unsettling shadows. Even with Charles' keen night vision, it was difficult to see. “Pickles?” Charles asked again, and then, after a bit of fumbling, he found and hit the light switch.

Charles looked up. Hobbes had climbed up on a high shelf that appeared to be held up by dead meerkats. The tiger switched it's tail. “Well, I warned you,” said Charles.

He was quiet then, listening. Hobbes, up on his perch, listened as well, and then, with a hunter's grace, leapt off the shelf and stalked over to a stuffed giant tortoise. He was atop the tortoise ottoman in one quick leap.

Charles walked over to the tortoise as well. Huddled behind, Dethphone gripped tightly in one hand, was Pickles.

“Pickles,” said Charles.

The drummer looked up at him. He had terrible dark circles under his eyes. “I keep callin', Charles. An' she ain't answerin'.”

“Your Mother?”

“Who da feck else?” asked Pickles, suddenly tossing the phone away. It landed, shattering, causing Hobbes to switch his tail.

“Well, OK,” said Charles. “She's obviously upset.”

“Yoo're da one who tol' me t' tell her t' feck awf!”

“That's true. I did. But you know, that was your choice too.”

“Is she never gonna tawk to me no more?”

“Yes, Pickles,” said Charles, “that is a possibility.”

“A pawsubility?” raved Pickles. “Is dat awl you gaht t' say?”

Charles sighed, wishing desperately that it were Ganesh, or really, anybody else at all here in the room right now. All he wanted to do was flee very, very far away. “Well, I apologize,” he said, awkwardly kneeling down near Pickles. “I can be an asshole sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” demanded Pickles.

“Sometimes you need to hear things you my find … unpleasant. That's my job.”

“Yoo ain't dat way wit' Nat'an!”

“No. No, I'm not,” admitted Charles.

“Yer admittin' it?” asked Pickles, wiping his eyes on a wristband.

“Yes. I guess I am.”

“So. Why is he so feckin' special?”

Charles reached up and scratched Hobbes behind his small tiger ears. He appeared to drift off for a long moment.

“Charles! I asked yoo a question!”

“Pickles,” said Charles softly, “I have a question for you.” He turned to look at Pickles. “If I treat Nathan differently than I treat you – and I admit it, I believe I do – why do you jump to the conclusion that Nathan is the special one?”

“BECUZ-” Pickles started. He stopped short, teary-eyed, and was quiet for a long moment. He started to wipe his eyes on his wristband again.

He looked up to see Charles was proffering a handkerchief. He reached for it, but instead, Charles held it to Pickles' nose. “OK,” he said, “blow.” Pickles gave a great sniffly hoot. Charles wiped Pickles' nose, as one would a weeping child, and then wadded up the handkerchief and stuck it back in his coat pocket.

Charles stood. “Are we ready to go?” He reached out a hand, and helped a shaky Pickles to his feet. “Come on. We'll have Jean Pierre make you some ice cream.”

“I broke mah phone,” said Pickles, pointing forlornly to the broken spikes on the floor.

“We'll get you a new one.” Charles turned towards the door. Hobbes was there scratching on it. “I warned you!” he told the tiger. “I don't think my kid's tiger likes the Endangered Species Room, Pickles.”

“I'm nawt shoore I like it either,” said Pickles, now walking towards the door with Charles. “Dood. Why is my mawm like dat?”

“Because she is a bitch, Pickles,” said Charles, opening the door for Hobbes, who was instantly out.

“Yeh,” said Pickles, watching the cat streak away. “I t'ought it wuz somethin' like dat.”

“Oh, there you are, jaanu!” chuckled Ganesh from the office doorway.

“Portan bidness!” said Elias, who was still at Charles' desk, drawing on his father's laptop.

“Well, it is very good you could attend to that important business,” laughed Ganesh, walking around the desk to see what Elias was drawing. He hoisted up Elias and sat in Charles's chair, the boy on his lap. “Thank you for watching him, Nathan!” he told the demon waiting nearby. “I believe you can go back to rehearsal now, if you'd like.”

“Yeah,” said Nathan, who seemed reluctant to get up. “Uh. Can I ask you something, Ganesh?”

“Of course.”

Nathan frowned. “Boon says I'm a human. I mean, even like this.”

“Yes?” said Ganesh, tilting his head. “Is that what he told you?”

“He told me I got HUMAN MAGIC. So, can he see stuff like that?”

“Well,” said Ganesh, repositioning Elias on his lap, “to tell the truth, we're really not sure quite what he sees. Or even if it's his sense of sight. Sariel, as you know, can hear things.”

“You see stuff, right? Creepy shit?”

“Er. Yes.”

“What does your CREEPY SHIT say I am?” asked Nathan.

“Er. Do you really want to know?” asked Ganesh.

“Yeah, I wanna know! That's why I'm asking. Otherwise I WOULDN'T ASK!”

It was Ganesh's turn to frown. “Well. Er. Although you obviously have the physical Form of a demon. Currently. Yes, your magical aura indicates, to me, that you are human.”


“But, you are aware, Nathan, not many beings have the sight, as I do.”

“But BOON is just a KID! And he can see!”

“Well, that is so.....”

“I wanted to be SPECIAL! Like EVERYBODY ELSE!”

“Nathan, you are special....”

“NO I'M NOT! Geez, even Toki has fucking BLUE WINGS nowadays. Asshole.”

“Nathan, as I have explained to you before, you are a human, but you are somehow able to channel the magic of your band mates. I have never seen the like. You are the only human who can do it. The only being who can do it!”

“So you think I should go back to being human?”

“Nathan,” sighed Ganesh. “What I have been trying to tell you – what WE have been trying to tell you,” he added, looking down at Elias. “You never really ceased being human! You are simply, temporarily, in a new vessel.”

Nathan frowned. They heard a soft thump, and there was suddenly a tiger in the middle of Charles' desk. It nosed at Elias' computer, and then crawled onto the laptop and seated itself.

“AWBS!” laughed Elias.

“Three people at my desk and none of them are me,” grumbled Charles from the doorway. “You can get to rehearsals now, Nathan. They're all there. Everybody.”

“I'VE BEEN THINKING,” said Nathan, standing to his full height. “I'm gonna have Ganesh dude put me back I think. IN MY HUMAN BODY.”

“Oh, well, that's nice, Nathan,” said Charles.

“Whenever you are ready, Nathan,” promised Ganesh.

“I had a talk with BOON!” said Nathan.

“You did?” asked Charles.

“Yeah, he can SEE ME!”

Ganesh pulled off Elias' dark glasses and stared through them. “Not certain how he sees anything at all though these,” he muttered, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the very smudged lenses. He handed the glasses back to Elias. “Now, you need to handle these by the edges, Eliu.”

Elias very carefully held the glasses by the frames to put them on, and then pushed them up his nose by pressing his hands on either lens.

Ganesh sighed as Elias grinned up at him though the thoroughly re-smudged glasses.

“Well, it's gonna happen when you got a four armed kid, there will be fingerprints,” reasoned Charles.

“Perhaps we need to try a brimmed cap instead,” said Ganesh, once again taking the glasses and ruffing Elias' hair.

“Oh, he could wear a FACEBONES BALL CAP!” said Nathan.

“That's a very good idea, Nathan,” said Charles.

“COME ON BOON!” said Nathan. Elias immediately scrambled down from the desk and pattered after him. “We'll get you a cap, and you'll be TOTALLY METAL!”

“TOTY MEDA!” agreed Elias.

“Yip!” said Murgatroyd, thundering along after them.

“You not going along?” Charles asked Hobbes, who was now contentedly asleep across his laptop.

“Perhaps it is a message to take a break from your work,” said Ganesh, who did not rise from Charles' chair.

“What do you think Boon said to Nathan?” asked Charles.

“I cannot say,” said Ganesh, now crossing several arms and looking thoughtful. “Evidently, Boonie somehow senses that Nathan is still human. I do not know how.”

“You think he sees things? Like you do?”

“I can see magic, true, that is a gift I was given at birth. But it took me many years to be able to distinguish the different forms. I still do not know what the boy senses.”

“Our kid is weird,” concluded Charles.

“Well, yes.”

“So what am I supposed to do now? I got a god in my chair and a cat on my laptop!”

Ganesh grinned and scooted back the chair. “There is room now in my lap,” he said, patting a thigh.

Charles glanced at Ganesh, and then at sleeping tiger on his laptop. “You won't squeal on us, will you, Hobbes?'

And Hobbes never told.
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