Day 4 - Dressed To Kill KLOKTOBER

Day 4 - Dressed to kill 【 KLOKTOBER 】

Kloktober 2024 Day 3

Horror Movie Crossover

I love horror movies and I love Skwistok so I tried to tackle a very popular trope often seen in horror movies featuring, well, these guys.

I think it's pretty obvious movie which movie I'm referencing so I won't say it, haha.

Toki barely managed to close the door before Skwisgaar lunged at him. “Stops!” He laughed, though he didn’t really push him away.

“No ways…” Skwisgaar hummed, stealing kisses to Toki’s neck. “We ams finallies alone…” Slowly, he worked his way up to Toki’s jaw. “Dey was drivins me crazy, you knows?”

“Ja…” Toki half-assedly agreed, the attention too distracting. “Dey was…”

“Hm…” Skwisgaar licked the outline of Toki’s ear. “What you says we…” One of his hands suggestively squeezed Toki’s side.

“Buts…” Toki weakly protested, as Skwisgaar’s hand dove inside his shirt. “It ams soes nice outside…” Everyone had gone to swim at the lake because it was so damn hot and Toki wanted to get changed to join them. Because it was summer and it was…a vacation, right? Toki was pretty sure of it but Skwisgaar’s fingers were making him question reality. 

“We has times…” Skwisgaar said in a throaty voice, before his lips suckled the skin on Toki’s neck. “We has lotsa times…”

Any reluctance in Toki’s mind faded away the moment Skwisgaar’s eyes laid on him, his own eyelids growing heavy. As their mouths met, Toki decided to put the swimming plans on hold. 

It wasn’t all that recent since they started messing around, though they still hadn’t told…anyone, really. Honesty, it just added to the thrill of it, to keep a secret that big from the rest of the band. 

So, when Charles suggested they take a few days off recording at some random cabin well within american forests, the excitement was palpable. They would be free to disappear to get raunchy together, without having to justify their absence to the other three, which would sometimes happen back in Mordhaus. 

…They just didn’t expect for the trip to be in a car, so they couldn’t sneak in any incidental gropes or whisper dirty things in each other’s ear like they would’ve on a plane or bus. Of course the moment they freed themselves of his friends was meant to end like this. 

Not to mention, Skwisgaar wanting him so badly was a turn on in itself. 

The bed squeaked under the weight as they continued making out. Skwisgaar quickly got rid of his shirt, his lips returning to Toki’s with urgency. Aroused, Toki reached for Skwisgaar’s belt and undid it in a matter of seconds. He had barely taken it off when he heard a creak outside their room.

“Waits.” 

“Whats?” Skwisgaar’s face was buried in Toki’s neck.

“I heards somet’ings.” Toki whispered, gesturing to the door when Skwisgaar lifted his head.

Frowning, Skwisgaar glared at the door. “Who ams there?”

No response. No noise either.

After a while, Skwisgaar shrugged. “Maybe it ams de winds.”

“J-Ja.” Toki chuckled and they continued as if nothing had happened. 

Toki took off his shirt and Skwisgaar’s lips began tracing a loving path down his abdomen. Toki closed his eyes and sighed, focusing on the sensation of skin against skin and the warmth of Skwisgaar’s touch. So, it was to his utmost surprise when Skwisgaar suddenly stopped.

“Da fucks…” Toki heard him say and he opened his eyes.

Skwisgaar was staring at the door in disbelief. When he turned to look, he saw it was slowly opening, as if someone had pushed it. “Wha…”

“Alrights.” Skwisgaar got off the bed, annoyed. “Who ams it? Dis amsnt funnies.”

“Skwisgaar!” Toki tried to hand his shirt back at him but Skwisgaar wasn’t listening, grabbing his guitar resting against the wall instead. 

“Betters not be any dildos fans!” He said, wielding the instrument as if it were a sword. In a way, it made sense that the one that would turn Skwisgaar violent was being interrupted from having action. “Wells?” Upon meeting no answer, he disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

“W-Waits!” Toki tried to follow him, but something was in the corner of his eye. 

He turned and saw the silhouette of a big, tall man. He was wearing a hockey mask, strands of straight white hair coming out of the sides of his face. His skin was pale like a dead man’s and there was a red glow coming out of his eyes, piercing through Toki.

“Skwisgaars!” Toki yelled in horror, too frozen to move.

Hurried steps came back into the room and Skwisgaar appeared again. “Whats?”

“L…Looks!” Toki pointed at the window, only to see there was nothing now. “Whats?! I-I swears…dere was ams…scaries mans…”

Thankfully, Skwisgaar didn’t doubt him, walking to his side instead. “Dis places ams givinks de creeps.”

Toki nodded, looking out of the window in disbelief still.

Where the hell did they get themselves into? 

day 7 - furklok ! HORAAAY

Kloktober 2024 Day 9

Use someone's parents

I was initially not going to do today's entry but I realized couldn't miss the chance to address Skwisgaar's issues with Servetta. Or, well, one of many I suppose.

Thank you Servetta for helping create this deeply traumatized guitarist that I love!

Skwisgaar walked into the classroom. He could notice the eyes on him, and it made him apprehensive, but he didn’t want to show it. Instead, he just sat in his usual seat at the end of the left, right by the window. 

A group of girls whispered nearby him, and clearly they weren’t being quiet enough because he could still hear them. 

“My mom said his mom is…a disgusting person.” One of them said.

“Yeah, my parents told me not to talk to him.” Another replied.

“I think she tried to sleep with one of the teachers!” A third girl said. 

“No way!”

“Yeah, Ebba told me!”

“Ew, then he shouldn’t even be here!”

Skwisgaar glared at the girls and they stopped, pretending to look away. As soon as he laid his eyes off them they started whispering again, except this time he couldn’t hear them anymore.

He watched the snowfall out of the window, wiping his eyes before the tears had a chance to drop. He didn’t need to add ‘crybaby’ to the rumors about him and his mother. 

Not when so many of them were true, anyway.

–

A group of boys ran away when they saw Skwisgaar coming. Laughing and stealing glances at him, they disappeared into the crowd in the hallway. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, so when Skwisgaar reached his locker, he wasn’t exactly shocked.

There were scribbles all over it, insults to him, his mother, crass jokes, obscene drawings. Pretty much the usual stuff. He was a little surprised when a postcard came flying out when he opened his locker, though.

It was a picture of his mother from the 1956 Miss Sweden contest. Someone had drawn nipples and a bush over her bodysuit and written on the side: “I came to this picture 100 times last night. And you, Skwisgaar?”

“Oh, my God, that’s horrible!” A feminine voice said and Skwisgaar turned in her direction. 

It was Hilda, the appointed nice girl of her class. She had shoulder-length black hair and big auburn eyes and was staring at his locker with horror. Or, wait, was her name Helga?

“Eh, I’m used to it.” Skwisgaar said, tossing the postcard into the nearest trash can. 

“It’s still terrible.” Hilda or Helga replied with her arms crossed and a judgemental look. Skwisgaar noticed that there was a girl by her side. She was biting down her lip, like she wanted to say something.

Skwisgaar knew that look damn well.

“Is it true your mom slept with Erik from 9th grade?”

“Krista!” Her friend scolded her.

“What? You wanted to know too!”

“What are you-”

“Probably.” Skwisgaar closed his locker with a slam, startling the girls. “I don’t really care.” He turned his backs on them and walked away. 

It was always the same.

–

“Dude, Skwisgaar.” 

“Yeugh?” Skwisgaar raised his eyes from his guitar. He was tuning up by the ear.

“You told me you didn’t have a mom, dude.” Matthew said. He was the curly-haired vocalist of the American band Skwisgaar was currently part of  and he was a constantly smoking weed. 

“Uh, ja.” 

“Well, I looked you up last night, dude. Since you said you were famous in Sweden…why didn’t you tell me your mom was a total hottie? I would’ve so banged her!”

“What? Show me the pics!” Rick, the drummer, yelled from the other side of the room.

“I wanna see too!” The bassist, whose name was something like Ryan, joined Matthew on the couch. “Woah, no way!”

“Yeah, dude…”

“That’s one hot slut!” Rick exclaimed, peeking at the phone from behind the other two.

As he watched his bandmates fawn over what were presumably pictures of his mother, Skwisgaar was reminded of a feeling he thought he had left behind just like his hometown. 

That ugly, ugly discomfort when people spoke about his mother. Made him feel so powerless and vulnerable, even though it wasn’t on him.

Even though none of it was on him.

–

“Yeah, I heard of you.” One greasy manager told him, slinging an arm around Skwisgaar’s shoulder. 

He was at the New Year party of a big label. He had been invited by one of his ex-bandmates because he briefly replaced the guitarist of one of the bands they represented and he would never turn down free alcohol and drugs. 

The only downside was the annoying people that acted familiar with him. Like this jack off.

“Skwisgaar Skwigelf, right?” He said, with a drunk breath. He was a middle aged man, his gray hair slicked back and wearing a couple of sunglasses even though it was night. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Eugh, rights…” Skwisgaar said, already annoyed by the proximity of the man. He hated when people got on his face like that. Unless they were floozies, of course.

“I actually worked in Sweden some years ago.” The man continued. “Your mom was a total sensation back then.” 

“Ja, she was a bits ofs a celekbrities…” Skwisgaar said with disinterest, mildly relieved the conversation was just boring, rather than uncomfortable. 

The man leaned in to whisper into Skwisgaar’s ear. “They say she slept her way to the top…” He placed his hand on Skwisgaar’s waist. “What about you?”

Infuriated, Skwisgaar shoved him away and left, gripping the drink in his hand.

“Hey!” He heard the man call him. “I was just joking, come back!”

There it was again.

That feeling he had worked so hard to abandon.

He hated it.

–

“What ams this?” Their latest addition, Toki, had been snooping around Skwisgaar’s stuff for a while. He was a bit like a child, excited over everything and constantly asking questions. He reminded Skwisgaar of an overstimulated dog. 

“Mmh?” Skwisgaar kept fretting mindlessly and Toki showed him a magazine with himself on the cover. “Oh, dat ams and olds thingks…when I was just gettingks starts…”

Toki paged through the magazine, searching for the Skwisgaar article. “Founds it! Buts I can’ts reads anyt’ings…” He sounded dejected.

“Dats woulds be because it ams in skwedish.” Skwisgaar said, still playing. 

“Waits! It shouldn’ts be thats hard…” Toki squinted at the text. “En…kommande…gita-gitarr? Gittartala- Oh, it ams too hards!” He started looking at the pictures instead. “Wowee! Why ams dat a pages rippeds of?”

Skwisgaar flinched unwillingly. “Eugh…it has somethingks I didn’ts wanna sees…ja.”

Toki tilted his head, awaiting more information and Skwisgaar swallowed heavily.

“It, was, eugh, my moms.” He tried to say casually.

“Oh…”

The pace of Skwisgaar’s playing increased unconsciously. He closed his eyes, feeling his body tense up, his heart rate picking up. 

…But nothing happened.

Confused, he glanced at Toki, who kept inspecting the magazine with curiosity. “So cool…” He whispered in awe at some picture of teenager Skwisgaar posing with a guitar.

“Yous not goignks to ask abouts dat?”

“Whys?” Toki turned the magazine upside down, confused. “I donts gets this…” There was a cryptic illustration on the page. 

“Because it ams my moms?!” Skwisgaar asked, in disbelief. 

Toki’s stupidly innocent eyes laid on Skwisgaar. “Buts you donts wants to talks about it.” He said as if it were obvious.

“W-Well, ja, buts everyones always-”

“Parents ams hard.” Toki said, and it was like the naivety had left his face suddenly. “And…we ams not thems.” His eyes were hard, as if he wasn’t just talking to Skwisgaar anymore.

Come to think of it, Toki hadn’t really talked about his parents either, had he?

And, instead of the discomfort Skwisgaar had grown used to over the years, he felt something different. Something he hadn’t felt since he was a child, since his mother cradled him in her arms and sang lullabies for him. 

He smiled, embracing the sentiment. “You ams wise for a littol snot-nosed brats, heuh?”

“Ams not a brats!”

Skwisgaar chuckled with fondness. “Thanks you, Toki.”

Toki blinked, scatterbrained as ever. “Whats for?”

Without replying, Skwisgaar looked out of the window. The snowfall was inclement as ever.

But things weren't the same anymore.

Day 9 - Use someone’s parents 【 KLOKTOBER 】

Kloktober 2024 Day 7

Furryklok or Demonklok

Today’s entry is a companion piece to @kaanagen’s fanart because I got inspired while we were talking about it. 🔥

Set in an AU where Toki hasn’t left his family yet!

Photo credit

Toki wiped his bloody nose, holding back the tears. It had been years since the last time his parents beat him this badly. The basement? Sure, that was like his second room by this point. But being so brutally assaulted, to the point of blood…

Just because he dared to talk about his one dream, about his aspirations to be a musician…

He choked back a sob, more disappointed in himself than anyone else for ever having thought that the people that raised him would react differently. They didn’t even like having music played in the house. Of course wanting to be a guitarist would be blasphemous to hear for them. He was an idiot. A stupid, naive idiot.

But no more of that. That Toki was done for, soon to be buried.

Determined, he searched under the pile of straw and spotted it. The book about satanic spells and rituals that he had researched when he first acquired an interest in death metal. He knew his parents cleaned his room every now and then so the book would be safer here, amongst the litter and rubble that only Toki was in charge of cleaning.

He already knew what page to go to, he had already marked it. It was page 242, how to summon a devil.

Evidently, Toki thought it would be cool to summon your own guardian and thus protect himself from harm, while also enacting revenge on those who wronged him. The only reason he hesitated was, well…the possibility of hurting his parents.

Despite everything, Toki didn’t want to hurt them. They were the only people Toki really knew, after all. What was he supposed to do without them?

Against his will, he felt his reluctance come back to him, and he was about to close the book when a drop of blood fell on the page. Abruptly reminded of what they had done to him, Toki made up his mind.

With his own blood, he painted a pentagram on the wooden floor and placed his battered guitar at the center. Then, he closed his eyes and began chanting, picturing a future where he was allowed to be who he wanted to be. To do anything he wanted to do. A future where he could be free.

Music would be his freedom and he was willing to pay with his soul for it.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling and a light pierced his eyelids. Alarmed, he opened his eyes and found the ground was splitting in two, red blaze coming from where it had cracked. Terrified, he fell on his knees and began to pray for forgiveness.

When he looked up, he saw scarlet smoke was now emanating from the cracks and invading the basement. And within the smoke, there was a dark figure, approaching him with inhuman movements. He screamed in horror, wanting nothing more but to escape yet his body was frozen from the sight. A noise that could only be defined as an electric guitar riff resonated in the air.

“Nows, nows…” A deep voice spoke as the smoke slowly dissipated. “Who dares awakes me from mines slumber?” Blue eyes materialized, penetrating Toki with his gaze.

And yet, rather than be intimidated, the color eased him. It was a beautiful shade of blue, one of Toki’s favorites in fact. The color of the sky, or, well, heaven.

Heaven…

The silhouette stepped out of the smoke and Toki’s eyes widened upon witnessing its appearance.

What appeared to be a slim, naked man with flowing golden hair, cascading way past his shoulders, presented itself before Toki. It was holding a guitar, like a warrior with an axe, and eyeing him with interest. It was so beautiful that Toki would’ve thought he had summoned an angel instead, until he noticed the horns coming out of his forehead and the pointy ears emerging from his mane.

“So it ams you.” The demon said, leaning down to hold Toki’s chin between its fingers. “You looks like a good meals.”

As tempting as it was to gaze at the demon up close, Toki removed himself from the demon’s grasp. He tried his best to remember the Latin lessons his father had forced upon him during childhood. “M-Mihi nomen est…”

“Nej, nej,” The demon waved its hand. “Is understand everies lanksgage.” Its eyes spotted Toki’s guitar, now miraculously repaired, on the ground. “Ams this yours?”

Toki nodded and the demon proceeded to ditch his own guitar, which disappeared into a scarlet cloud, and picked Toki’s. Its long fingers began playing a monstrous solo on the guitar that, moments ago, was completely destroyed. It was sublime, it was godly, it was unlike anything Toki had ever seen.

“Whats yous name?” The demon asked, still fiddling with his guitar so freely that it almost felt obscene to watch.

“T…Toki.” He answered with cheeks flushed.

“Wells, Toke,” The demon hummed with a smirk. It was so tall, so tall that it was towering over him. “Does you have anythingks for me?”

Completely hypnotized, Toki was unable to answer. Though something in his mind was exceedingly clear.

He had gotten his wish.