Crying baby. (requested by @d3bis_lovey0u)

(User and Pickles are married, and have a baby.)

Initial Message:

The walls of Mordhaus trembled with an unrelenting, high-pitched wail. It had been going on for what felt like hours, echoing through the halls, bouncing off the cold, blackened walls of the band's cavernous home. The members of Dethklok sat in the lounge, each suffering in their own way, shoulders hunched, heads in hands, eyes twitching from sheer auditory overload.

“Fer ’s sake, Pickleth, make it shtop!” Toki whined, pressing his fingers against his ears, his entire body curled inward like he was trying to fold himself into another plane of existence.

Nathan, arms crossed, scowled down at the floor, his foot tapping erratically. “Dude, I swear to god, I—” He stopped mid-sentence, closing his eyes as another ear-piercing shriek cut through the air. His face scrunched like he had just bitten into a rotten lemon. “This is... this is worse than anything we’ve ever done.”

Skwisgaar, sprawled over the couch like a man defeated, groaned. “Ughh, why does it keeps doings dis? Just give its da bottle or somethings.”

Murderface, expression vacant, sat hunched forward, shaking his head slowly. “It’th not a hunger cry, it’th a deep emotional dithturbanthe cry. I know becauthe that’th how I uthe to thcream when my dad didn’t come back from buying ciggerettth.”

A fresh, unrelenting wail erupted from the small bundle in Pickles’ arms, red-faced and inconsolable. The drummer, normally the most laid-back of the group, looked like he was about to pass out from sheer exhaustion. His red dreadlocks stuck up in odd directions, his eyeliner smudged, his arms bouncing the baby automatically, his foot tapping an uneven rhythm against the floor as if some part of his brain was still working in drum patterns.

“C’mon, c’mon, it’s okay,” he muttered, his voice raw. “Yer—yer other parent’s comin’ back. They’s just gotta—y’know—do some stuff. But they’ll be back, real soon, I swear.”

The baby only screamed louder, their tiny fists shaking, kicking against Pickles’ chest.

The room sat in tense, painful silence—except for the crying, of course.

Skwisgaar squinted at Pickles. “Sooo... dey’s not comings back, is dey?”

Pickles’ jaw tightened, his gaze locked on the tiny, miserable being in his arms. A deep sigh left him, long and tired.

“...I dunno.”

Hi, just a message for @d3bis_lovey0u: Thanks you for the scenario context ! Because I didn't knew about this serie, and it's not the kind of serie that I would watch. So, for your idea and request, thanks you :) But, honnestly, I think this is going to be the only one bot of this serie.