Counting Sheep.

Been meaning to draw him ever since I first saw him without his mask 👉👈

All I can say is:

The band comforting their bassist in a vulnerable moment? It's more likely than you think!

I expanded on a random vision I had, enjoy these 1k words of the scenario from Murderface's POV :P

Warning for:

Lots of swearing and self deprecating language, because Murderface. Not beta'd, so there may be mistakes.

It had been building up within him for some time now. Every little thing just added onto the pile of all the shit that happened to him. Deep down, subconsciously, he knew that it was only a matter of time before something would set him off again. Would make all the bottled up emotions break free again. But hell, if he could tell before it got to that point. It only ever occurred to him afterwards, making him hate himself even more for exploding. A vicious cycle, really.

Right now, though? He was in the process of losing it. Some remark or other must've done it; didn't really matter. But instead of the usual anger resulting in a quick outburst, he felt flooded with frustration and... sadness? 

He could feel the tears slowly clouding his vision, felt his throat constrict, the pit in his stomach. 

Huh, that was new. It took a bit for the panic to set in. This was new, this had never happened to him before? Crying in front of the others? No, no way! That would make him a weak and pathetic loser! He had to keep it together long enough to come up with an excuse to leave and leg it out of there to repress all of this in peace. Didn't matter if he cried if no one was around to see it!

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Pickles talking to him at first. He was... asking him a question? 

"Dood. Why are ya so quiet? Something wrong?" Oh shit.

At least one person was catching onto him not acting his usual self. Fuck. This was bad. Quick! Think of something, you dumbass! Say something! Do something! Anything!!!

Apparently, the only thing his body was capable of at the moment was betraying him. By making him look up in Pickles' direction and fucking whimpering instead of talking! Way to go asshole. Fuck!

"...Murderface, what the- are you… crying?" The expression on his bandmate's face turned from confusion to ...concern? That couldn't be, it was just a matter of seconds before he would make fun of him for being such a sensitive crybaby, the others probably gearing up to join in on the usual bullying.

Once again too caught up in his own mind, he didn't notice Pickles reaching for his hands until they were carefully held in the drummer's. A quiet "Hey" made him look up, Pickles' face a little closer than before, the concern and care now unmistakable. 

This was it, the last straw. The tears were flowing, as was the snot, and he let out a pathetic and pained wail. It was all so strange and too much, too much, TOO MUCH!

His hands were maneuvered into one of Pickles' while he reached out to cradle his face with the other. "Dood..."

Between his loud sobs, he noticed the absence of any kind of comment from the others. Usually he would have some choice words for them and promptly leave, the sound of his bandmates joking and laughing about his reaction drifting out of the room after him.

Not this time though. He was still there. Everything was quiet apart from the embarrassing amount of crying and wailing he was doing. Fuck!

Pickles was stroking his cheek now. Weird, but strangely soothing? What kinda magic trick was that?! Then he felt a big warm hand settle on his trembling shoulder. Could it be? No, Nathan would never! A quick glance revealed that it was indeed the singer's hand trying to give a reassuring squeeze, black nail polish and all. What the hell was going on and why the fuck couldn't he stop crying?

Eventually, he felt the hand on his cheek guide his face to rest on the drummer's shoulder. He was probably ruining Pickles' shirt with his leaking eyes and nose. How disgusting. Nathan's hand wandered to his back, going for gentle rubs which helped the ache due to the unrelenting sobs jostling his body, messing up his breathing. In the time it took for Pickles to wrap his arms around his trembling body and him to mirror the drummer, clinging to him for dear life, he felt another hand settle on his head. It's owner seemed hesitant at first, long slender fingers then burying themselves in his hair. Short well-kept nails giving him light pats and scritches. Skwisgaar. Shit, what was happening?

Only one other person missing now. Ah, there he was. Toki. Through the haze, he felt the last of his bandmates press up to his side, putting his head on his shaking shoulder, nuzzling his face into his neck. He could feel the Scandinavian's long hair settling over part of his back, slowly warming up the covered area. Damn, Toki was a furnace! He had never noticed before. And what was that? A low rumble. Was he... was Toki having a go at purring? What a nerd. It seemed to work though. On top of all of them basically forming a brutally awkward cuddle pile around him, it was indeed helping to calm him down. Slowing his racing heart, soothing the ache and evening out his breathing.

After a while, the tears stopped. He had finally calmed down. His head felt empty and full at the same time. Void of any volatile, explosive emotion while feeling like it was stuffed with a million dirty dish towels. Probably from crying so hard. Urgh, what a mental image. Then he realised that he was still surrounded by the others and that they all would have to let go eventually. His bandmates witnessed his embarrassing display of weakness and would never let him live it down! Fuck! He cringed and slowly one after the other gave him some space, removing their hands from his body. 

"Well uhh... that was-" "Now dats dat ams overs-" 

"Guysch, I-" 

Before anyone could finish their sentence, Pickles took hold of one of his hands once again, apparently the only one not quite as embarrassed by the entire situation.

"You okey now?"

He took a moment to think. Was he? He still felt strange for wailing and sobbing like a damn baby. But, he did feel... lighter somehow. Relieved? At least for the time being. He cleared his throat, gingerly wiping the tears from his cheeks and the snot from under his nose, cleaning it all off on his shorts.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think scho."

It actually felt kind of nice to have some tangible proof the others cared about him in some way, despite their official No Caring Rule. He would never admit that to anyone though, he wasn't weak like that.

Unrelated doodles :)

And like I said - life just isn't fair.

Text version under the cut

“I wait for the echoes of the night  To be born on the open sea…”

~Alcest (Écailles De Lune (Part I)

Dog Sleeping in Bed

Miola Ceramics on Etsy

Yea we skatin

hi fear and hunger fandom

this is for @witcher3 birthday 🦐💕

Star-crossed

If you would like it as a print you can purchase it at my store <3