(no subject)

[onehundredbeers]

[Nathan is pacing back and forth in the bar, one hand gripping tightly onto a bottle of beer. It's not an angry pace, not at all; more along the lines of someone upset, someone emotional. All in all, he doesn't seem to be having a good time.

His free hand covers his mouth on one go round and he sighs into it harshly, then moves it up to run the hand through his hair.]

They're- they're kidding. Yeah. They- yeah. It's a joke. J- just a joke. Ha. Hah hah.

[He appears to be trying to convince himself of something as he paces. If it wasn't clear he was upset before, the stiffness and forced tone to his voice definitely gives him away. Also the really bad attempt at forced laughter. Really, Nathan? 'Hah hah'? No.]

Fuck.

Comments

[waterfield]

( she has absolutely no idea what he's talking about, but he's smiling and despite the language and the creepiness and how terrifying it all sounds, that whole business about having weapons that is, Victoria would rather he be smiling than frowning. )

Ah, yes. That sounds very— ( awful, sob. ) —interesting.

Is there no one that would gain anything from your loss of happiness? ( or so she assumed anyway. he wouldn't be so upset about it if he wasn't at least a bit happy with whomever this girl was, right? )

[onehundredbeers]

The only ones that would gain from me being miserable are the rest of my band. They don't like it when I'm dating. You know, the whole 'you're too good for her, bro', 'you deserve better', 'she's a slut', 'she's ruining the band', ugh.

[He heads over to the bar and behind the bar itself to, well, get more beer.]

They can't stand it. Just because they're too socially retarded to date, they have to ruin my life?

[waterfield]

( she frowns. )

That's not very... Friend-like of them, is it? Are you certain none of them have the ability to do something like that? Because, if they're just upset... Well...

[onehundredbeers]

[He pops open his beer.]

Yeah, uh, we're not friends. We all hate each other off and on. But no, no, none of them have the technological know how to actually hack a dating website to fuck around on her profile. God, they probably can't even guess her password.

[And a swig.]

It's probably something like 'iluvnathan4ever' or something. With the number four... for the word for. Like forever into 'fourever'. [He pauses.] Trindle's crazy about me. Was. Is. Whichever of those... apply. I guess.

[waterfield]

( for a while she's quiet, but then, tilting her head she just asks: )

Have you tried speaking with her about it?

[onehundredbeers]

No. No, I have not. I kind of, uh, came up here right after they showed me. So they're still in my writing office, standing there all frozen in time until I decide I want to come back and beat their asses for fucking with me.

[Nathan rubs the side of his neck.]

And then, then. After I beat their asses? I'm going to prove all the shit they're saying about Trindle is lies. That is- that's the plan. That I came up with. Just now.

[waterfield]

( brows elevated, she can't help but to smile at his affirmation to himself. okay, so he's rude — but he's awkwardly endearing, too. she can work with that, at least, she tells herself that she can. )

It's an excellent, if not violent, plan.

[onehundredbeers]

Hey, sometimes violence is all those fuckfaces get. Like, okay, this one time? Murderface was fucking around and making everybody relive traumatic father abandonment issues or whatever. I just wanted, you know, to mind my own business, have some fucking Hot Pockets?

[He sets his beer down on the bar. He has not gotten out from behind it.]

And this continues until finally, finally? I'm fed up. Pickles is knocking phones out of hands, Skwisgaar is trying to quit the band, Toki is about to go mad with power. So, uh. They all got smacked. And then they stopped acting like assholes.

[waterfield]

( Murderwhat. what kind of name... she has a moment of wanting to just curl up in a frightened little ball and but miraculously manages to keep herself from doing so.

she scrunches her nose, though. hot pockets? what's a hot pocket? )

So then, you mean, they listened to you — or rather halted their actions based on your, er, methods to keep them in check? Does that make you the leader of your band?

[onehundredbeers]

Uh, yeah. Those fuckers belong to me. Dethklok is my band, and, uh, they have to do whatever I want?

sobbing, i just wanted to say i adore this ridic. thread :'D

[waterfield]

Then can't you simply tell them to leave you and your girlfriend to your own devices and should she be cheating on you, allow you to deal with it rather than have them celebrate something so tragic at your expense?

:D thank you. just a normal day in the life of nathan, really.

[onehundredbeers]

What? No. We live in- we live in the same house! Sure, it has... seven thousand rooms, but the point is I see them every day and we all, uh, like to enjoy each others suffering. It's kind of a band rule.

[Nathan pauses to think.]

Plus I've already told them to get out of my life and they- they don't listen. So, uh, I'm fucked in that area. They will not leave.

it's beautiful

[waterfield]

( band rule? what kind of band is this?! )

Oh. ( she frowns ) Then you may not have much you can do about it, unfortunately. I'm sorry, Nathan.

I think you should just try to talk to her. It may not be as bad as it seems, one can always hold onto a little hope. But, if it turns out badly, you can always use the experience to write a song, right?

[onehundredbeers]

Ugh. I already did that once - the, the write a song thing about your girlfriend. Castratikron. She, uh, she cheated on me too. Eventually. While she was in a coma.

[Nathan grabs his beer and drinks from it.]

Man. Why the fuck do all my girlfriends keep cheating on me?

[waterfield]

( that one leaves her staring at him for a time. how do you cheat on someone whilst in a coma? is that even possible? what what what. her mind, it is blown. )

Well. ( she pauses, she doesn't know this man that well, so, she can't really offer that much insight. ) Are you perhaps not showing them enough interest?

[onehundredbeers]

Oh, no way, I totally show them a ton of interest! Like, I did whatever Rebecca wanted. Granted, that was because she was fucking forcing me and I was fairly certain if I didn't obey her every whim I would regret it for the rest of my life.

And Trindle, man, she's- she's cool. She knows my schedule, she comes to all my shows and waits backstage and hangs out and we're awesome, so why would she cheat on me?

[He's clearly trying to suss it out. At least, trying a little. He really did think things were going so well, and now here everything is. All terrible. And shit.]

[waterfield]

Do you think your bandmates might have forced her into making her... site? ( she's still not really sure what a 'site' even is, but, she's trying Nathan. )

[onehundredbeers]

[He shakes his head.]

They're too fucking dumb or drunk or high to do that. I am afraid we are not masters of manipulation even though we totally try to be. We, uh, we kind of fail. At that aspect.

[Nathan swirls his beer in the bottle.]

Okay, maybe if they tried threatening her, like. 'Hey. Fuckface. Go ruin your relationship with Nathan right now or we'll have one of your arms torn off and fed to the wolves.' But I don't think she'd go for that, she's heard them make those threats before.

[waterfield]

( she pales significantly at the fact that a woman has had such things said to her, or at least in front of her before, and still remains loyal with this man. to her, that's a sign of undying, unwavering love — it may not be that way for him, though. )

I'm running short on ideas. ( she frowns again. ) You certainly do need to talk to her, though. It would be the easiest method to clear everything up.

[onehundredbeers]

[Completely oblivious to her paling or even mild discomfort, Nathan continues as normal. Oh, Nathan.]

Yeah, no, it's cool. I wasn't expecting you to, uh, fucking magically fix my problems or anything. That's- that is Charles' job, and I think he's staying out of this one.

[And he chugs down the rest of his beer.]

I'll... probably talk to her. Eventually. Soon. When I'm ready.

[waterfield]

Still, I am sorry that I couldn't really assist you.

( she bravely, for her that is, reaches out and pats Nathan on the arm for some form of comfort extended to the man. )

I do hope that all goes well when you do talk to her.

[onehundredbeers]

[He allows this.]

I hope so too. I would really appreciate if the stars fucking aligned in a way that didn't end up with me being totally miserable.

[waterfield]

It's a good thing to desire, that. No one really wants to be miserable.

( quietly she pulls her hand back. )

[onehundredbeers]

Wrong. I have to be some degree of miserable to write. But, uh, that's what Murderface is for. To make me miserable so I can write non-shitty songs.

[waterfield]

Well, I do suppose there is a saying about starving artists, so that makes sense to a degree. But I suppose I meant you shouldn't want to be that miserable.