![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: The Babysitter's Club (Mythklok AU Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The brutality of death metal babysitting
Warnings: Slash, AU, including an AU to the AU, OCs, smoking, baby spit
Notes: If you haven't finished The Santeria Arc (Chapter 38), this contains a spoiler.
Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
capslokdethklok.
Somewhere in another universe....
Ganesh was holding out his shirt with one hand while the others worked frantically on a PDA, an electronic pad, and scribbling out a sticky note.
"The telephone numbers are all on the fridge, and I have his physician's number as well as mine and three alternate contact numbers programed into the speed dial..."
"Gannish dood. Relax," Pickles breezily assured him.
"He has had his evening feeding and bath, so he should just go down for a nice long nap. I have the baby monitor just there...."
"Dood. Jest go wit' Lady Raz t' yer dance crap t'ing."
Ganesh folded away his extra arms and started to button his shirt. "Are you quite certain the two of you will be all right?" he asked, looking somewhat uncertainly over Pickles' shoulder.
"Dood! Yoo can't find better babysitters dan deat' metal musicians! We got a familiarity wit da brootality of child care sityooations! Da baby dood will be fine."
Ganesh nodded and grabbed his ringing cell phone. "I'm on my way, Lady Raziel. I am simply making certain Sariel is situated for the evening...." And then he disappeared into the night.
"We'll be jest fine," Pickles assured the thin air. "Right, Toki dood?"
Hearing no answer, Pickles turned.
"Hey, Toki, dood?"
The guitarist sat, frozen, on Ganesh's couch, white as a streak of very fine South American blow.
"Is he a djevel?" Toki sputtered.
"Wut?"
"Pickles! Didn't you notice? The guy has a dozen arms!"
"Nah, he's jest some funny religion. Vegan or somethin'."
"Are we in helvete?" the confused guitarist squeaked.
"Heh. Mebbe! But, it cud be worse. We cud be at dat stoopid dance trance crap t'ing wit' Raz an' Dick Knubbla."
The baby monitor suddenly crackled to life with some soft fussing, which sent Toki crawling for safety up on the arm of the couch.
"Aw," said Pickles, "Da poor little dood prob'ly woke up when his daddy dood left. Ah'll go git him." Pickles wandered cheerily off, only to return a moment later cradling a small infant. Though still fairly convinced of his imminent eternal damnation, Toki peered curiously at the baby. It seemed to have gone quite, quite, quite prematurely grey.
Pickles set the child down on the couch between himself and Toki. "Aw. Yer jest lonely, aren't yoo?" he cooed.
The baby batted it's curious little silver eyes at Toki.
And then he fluttered his tiny silvery wings.
"AAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!" shrieked Toki, pitching backwards over the arm of the couch.
"Aw, look at dat, baby dood! Unky Toki is playin' wit' cha!"
Pickles' cell phone buzzed. He picked it up.
"Skwisgaar, dood!"
"Oh. Does he wanna talk to me?" Toki asked hopefully, peering cautiously over the arm of the couch.
"Jest a minute. Hey, Toki, you sit wit da baby dood fer a bit?"
"Glorb!" said the baby dude.
"Uhhhhh," said Toki.
"So, Knubbla don't t'ink dey'll go fer Tit Clock? What about Tit Frog...?" Pickles babbled as he ducked into the next room.
Toki warily crawled back onto the very end of the couch, carefully keeping the angel baby in his sights the entire time.
"Blarrrrghr!" explained the angel baby, giving it's tiny wings a very small flap.
"You just stay on that end, and I'll stay over here," Toki ordered.
Toki jerked again as his own cell phone rang. He fished it out of a pocket. He glanced at the caller ID, and shuddered. He sighed and answered the call.
"Uh. Hello, Caroline. Yeah, it, it was nice. Uh, I don't really usually go on blind dates. Uh, I dunno. I'm kinda busy with the band and stuff. Uh, no, I'm not blowing you off. No, I'm not. OK. Uh. Your boyfriend?? Uh, I dunno. I'm not.... No, I don't think I'm a hard hearted beast. Look. Uh. Maybe next week...."
Sensing a presence, Toki suddenly looked up.
Somehow, the angel baby was nearly on top of him, staring up with tiny silvery eyes.
"Erk!" said Toki, dropping the phone and leaping to his feet.
"BLEEEAAAAH!" rejoindered the infant, suddenly scoring a direct hit on Toki's cellular phone with gloppy, colorful baby spit.
"Ewwww!" said Toki.
"What's da matter, dood?" asked Pickles, who had wafted back into the room.
"He spit up on my cell phone," Toki said, surveying the damage from a safe distance.
Pickles gathered the angel into his arms, wiping the little mouth with a sleeve. "Did yoo burp, little dood? Dey burp a lot. Dat's what dey doo." He carefully picked up Toki's glop-encrusted phone with two fingers. "Damn, dood, I t'ink dis t'ing is ded. Sahry!"
Toki frowned. "Actually," he said. "I needed to get a new one. And. A new phone number."
"Oh, den dat's okey!" cheered Pickles, tossing away the phone.
Toki stared at the silvery infant. He held out his arms.
"Now, l'il dood, yoo be nice fer yer Uncle Toki!" Pickle warned the angel baby.
"Warrrgle," chirped the angel baby, as Toki uncertainly hoisted him.
"You're our guardian angel, huh?" Toki asked the baby.
"Yeh! Nice, huh? Wanna see of Corazon de Azool is on t'night?" Pickles asked.
"Do you think he's a fan?" Toki asked, meaning the infant.
"We'll make him one! I'm good at explainin' da plot davices. As long as he don't like da long haired dood, we'll be okey."
And so they sat down and clicked on the remote control.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The brutality of death metal babysitting
Warnings: Slash, AU, including an AU to the AU, OCs, smoking, baby spit
Notes: If you haven't finished The Santeria Arc (Chapter 38), this contains a spoiler.
Cross-posted to
capslokdethklok.Somewhere in another universe....
Ganesh was holding out his shirt with one hand while the others worked frantically on a PDA, an electronic pad, and scribbling out a sticky note.
"The telephone numbers are all on the fridge, and I have his physician's number as well as mine and three alternate contact numbers programed into the speed dial..."
"Gannish dood. Relax," Pickles breezily assured him.
"He has had his evening feeding and bath, so he should just go down for a nice long nap. I have the baby monitor just there...."
"Dood. Jest go wit' Lady Raz t' yer dance crap t'ing."
Ganesh folded away his extra arms and started to button his shirt. "Are you quite certain the two of you will be all right?" he asked, looking somewhat uncertainly over Pickles' shoulder.
"Dood! Yoo can't find better babysitters dan deat' metal musicians! We got a familiarity wit da brootality of child care sityooations! Da baby dood will be fine."
Ganesh nodded and grabbed his ringing cell phone. "I'm on my way, Lady Raziel. I am simply making certain Sariel is situated for the evening...." And then he disappeared into the night.
"We'll be jest fine," Pickles assured the thin air. "Right, Toki dood?"
Hearing no answer, Pickles turned.
"Hey, Toki, dood?"
The guitarist sat, frozen, on Ganesh's couch, white as a streak of very fine South American blow.
"Is he a djevel?" Toki sputtered.
"Wut?"
"Pickles! Didn't you notice? The guy has a dozen arms!"
"Nah, he's jest some funny religion. Vegan or somethin'."
"Are we in helvete?" the confused guitarist squeaked.
"Heh. Mebbe! But, it cud be worse. We cud be at dat stoopid dance trance crap t'ing wit' Raz an' Dick Knubbla."
The baby monitor suddenly crackled to life with some soft fussing, which sent Toki crawling for safety up on the arm of the couch.
"Aw," said Pickles, "Da poor little dood prob'ly woke up when his daddy dood left. Ah'll go git him." Pickles wandered cheerily off, only to return a moment later cradling a small infant. Though still fairly convinced of his imminent eternal damnation, Toki peered curiously at the baby. It seemed to have gone quite, quite, quite prematurely grey.
Pickles set the child down on the couch between himself and Toki. "Aw. Yer jest lonely, aren't yoo?" he cooed.
The baby batted it's curious little silver eyes at Toki.
And then he fluttered his tiny silvery wings.
"AAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!" shrieked Toki, pitching backwards over the arm of the couch.
"Aw, look at dat, baby dood! Unky Toki is playin' wit' cha!"
Pickles' cell phone buzzed. He picked it up.
"Skwisgaar, dood!"
"Oh. Does he wanna talk to me?" Toki asked hopefully, peering cautiously over the arm of the couch.
"Jest a minute. Hey, Toki, you sit wit da baby dood fer a bit?"
"Glorb!" said the baby dude.
"Uhhhhh," said Toki.
"So, Knubbla don't t'ink dey'll go fer Tit Clock? What about Tit Frog...?" Pickles babbled as he ducked into the next room.
Toki warily crawled back onto the very end of the couch, carefully keeping the angel baby in his sights the entire time.
"Blarrrrghr!" explained the angel baby, giving it's tiny wings a very small flap.
"You just stay on that end, and I'll stay over here," Toki ordered.
Toki jerked again as his own cell phone rang. He fished it out of a pocket. He glanced at the caller ID, and shuddered. He sighed and answered the call.
"Uh. Hello, Caroline. Yeah, it, it was nice. Uh, I don't really usually go on blind dates. Uh, I dunno. I'm kinda busy with the band and stuff. Uh, no, I'm not blowing you off. No, I'm not. OK. Uh. Your boyfriend?? Uh, I dunno. I'm not.... No, I don't think I'm a hard hearted beast. Look. Uh. Maybe next week...."
Sensing a presence, Toki suddenly looked up.
Somehow, the angel baby was nearly on top of him, staring up with tiny silvery eyes.
"Erk!" said Toki, dropping the phone and leaping to his feet.
"BLEEEAAAAH!" rejoindered the infant, suddenly scoring a direct hit on Toki's cellular phone with gloppy, colorful baby spit.
"Ewwww!" said Toki.
"What's da matter, dood?" asked Pickles, who had wafted back into the room.
"He spit up on my cell phone," Toki said, surveying the damage from a safe distance.
Pickles gathered the angel into his arms, wiping the little mouth with a sleeve. "Did yoo burp, little dood? Dey burp a lot. Dat's what dey doo." He carefully picked up Toki's glop-encrusted phone with two fingers. "Damn, dood, I t'ink dis t'ing is ded. Sahry!"
Toki frowned. "Actually," he said. "I needed to get a new one. And. A new phone number."
"Oh, den dat's okey!" cheered Pickles, tossing away the phone.
Toki stared at the silvery infant. He held out his arms.
"Now, l'il dood, yoo be nice fer yer Uncle Toki!" Pickle warned the angel baby.
"Warrrgle," chirped the angel baby, as Toki uncertainly hoisted him.
"You're our guardian angel, huh?" Toki asked the baby.
"Yeh! Nice, huh? Wanna see of Corazon de Azool is on t'night?" Pickles asked.
"Do you think he's a fan?" Toki asked, meaning the infant.
"We'll make him one! I'm good at explainin' da plot davices. As long as he don't like da long haired dood, we'll be okey."
And so they sat down and clicked on the remote control.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-03-18 01:59 am (UTC)Famous last words.
"Skwisgaar, dood!"
"Oh. Does he wanna talk to me?" Toki asked hopefully, peering cautiously over the arm of the couch.
Yeah, keep hoping, Toki. You know Caroline can be your back-up plan in case things fall through. *shudders*
I vote for Titty Frog. And Mexican novellas with a long-haired guy no one likes.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-18 02:22 am (UTC)I vote for Titty Frog.
Me, I think they should name the band Blarrrrghr. Or Glorb.