Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse, or any of the songs referenced tonight.

Drabble Set:

Put your musical device on random. To the first three songs, write a drabble. When the song stops, you stop. You can not skip songs, or pause songs. All the way through. GO!

#1: Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner – Fall Out Boy

Pickles/Charles One-Sided / Charles/Toki

There was nothing that hid the pain that crept through the drummer's mind at bay better than a bottle. It really didn't matter the contents of it, Bacardi, Smirnoff, hell, even Southern Comfort worked, But if there was one thing that helped Pickles more, helped him forget how their Robot ignored his existence, how he preferred the Norwegian instead, it was gin. He'd drink down his gin, burning like kerosene on the way as he screamed silently, relishing the relief.

It came in waves, the differences in images. From Charles sprawled naked on his sheetless bed, to walking in on the Manager and Toki, to his days back in his old band. No matter what had happened, he had been weighed down, choked, by any man he ever got involved with. With another sip of gin, Pickles grimaced at God's cruel humor. Sometimes, he hated being such a faggot. How un-metal.

#2: Fake It – Seether

Toki/Skwisgaar

Well fuck it! Sofucking what if he was un-metal? He couldn't help it! He'd never had another band, unlike the rest of these fuckers.

And then, there was him.

Toki glared at the blonde from across the room, a mostly empty bottle in his hand. Why did that fuck have to be so fucking perfect? He could do no wrong, but Toki could do no right.

Toki didn't fucking belong here.

Skwisgaar was such a fucking hypocrite! Just yesterday, Toki had missed one note in his entire solo, and he was a "ladies dildos", but Skwis hadn't even made it ten seconds into his.

God Forbid Toki said a word to him.

But, the Norwegian grinned as he finished his bottle, pulling a blade from his pocket. He may have lost his self-esteem along the way, but he could fake it with the best of them.

And Skwigelf was about to get a taste of just how "metal" Toki Wartooth could be.

#3: A Trophy Father's Trophy Son

Toki/Charles

They simply couldn't believe it. Charles Foster Ofdensen, who they were sure was a Robot (much to Murderface's insistence), never showed emotion, let alone this. He had rage quit in the worst way. He left. Gone for good, he swore. The band members stared at the door long after it slammed shut. Toki sobbed silently into his Deddy, choking back a cry being the first sound.

Pickles did a line, and moved to comfort the guitarist.

"Why ams he walkings away, Pickle? Will hims even misses us?" Tears flooded his azure eyes.

"I danno Toki." The ginger whispered after what seemed like an eternity, washing a sour taste out of his mouth with a swig of whiskey.

"Yous a dildo's, Pickle! It was yous bottles!" The blonde had a look of pain on his face, contorting to rage.

Pickles turned slowly, glaring at the Swede for placing the blame soley on him. They had all done it. "And yer fackin' mistress', douchebahg!"

The sudden screaming match sent Toki into another fit of tears as he rose, and fled after Charles. He held Deddy tight, jumping in the road in front just as Charles limo was pulling away. The Gear stopped just in time, and a still-pissed Charles got out of the tinted back. He went to scream, but Toki was in his face, eyes level. The now ex-manager of Dethklok was skipping town, with no note telling where he was headed. He sighed, expecting a bombardment of questions from the Norwegian.

But he only got two sentences that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Whyevers yous walkin's away, Charlie, please jus' takes Deddy. Yous need loves too."