A/N: Prompt by Ametan: Spoon.
I pretty much dared her to give me a one-word prompt, and got one XD Here's what I cooked up from it~
This happens between Afterlife chapters 11 and 12, as in before the hotel.
Today was the day. Husk set his toolbox and the additional equipment on the kitchen table, and then made his way to the living room while whistling.
He grabbed a key from the bookshelf and idly noted that a new porcelain deer had joined the herd at some point. This one looked about two thirds decomposed, being partly skeletal but still having chunks of meat and skin hanging from its bones. Fucking gross. He moved it to the back, letting its healthier looking kin be on display while the zombies and skeletons were mostly hidden behind them. Much better.
Satisfied, he turned his back to them and walked over the chest of drawers in a corner. He unlocked the top drawer and fished out a handful of Alastor's shed antlers. It was time to put a few of them to dubiously good use again.
He grinned to himself and returned to the kitchen, where he sat down and began his work. The antlers had, of course, already been coated with various shits to preserve them, so all he had to do was turn them into whatever he wanted to. This time, grill forks and spoons, hopefully.
The grill forks were easy: he simply attached an antler to a thin metal pole, and then attached a wooden handle to the other end. Now all he had to do was buy some sausages and marshmallows, invite Alastor over, and then they could go set something on fire and have a little grill party. It was so fucking stupid that there was no way Alastor wouldn't absolutely love it.
The spoons he was a lot less sure about, and he didn't think he'd actually want to use them in the first place, but he wanted to try making them just so Alastor could discover them and have a good giggle.
But the question was: was his hypothesis about their whacky magical properties correct?
He picked up one antler and stared at it. It was time to behave like a truly crazy person, and internally blame it on Alastor's presence in his afterlife rubbing off on him. Thankfully nobody else would ever know about this.
"Okay, motherfucker. I know you can do strange shit, so here's the deal. I want you to grow inwards between these here prongs and become spoon shaped. Feel free to get thinner in the process."
He stared. The antler did nothing.
Fine. He hadn't expected it to be that simple anyway.
He squeezed the antler tightly in his claws, closed his eyes, and concentrated really hard on what he wanted the magic to accomplish.
Become a spoon. Do crazy magic and grow to fill the space between the prongs. Come on, bitch, you can do it.
This time he felt a very Alastor-like energy wash over his claws, and he opened his eyes to see the results.
...That was not a spoon. The antler had started to grow and branch like they did when Alastor went full Radio Demon on someone's ass.
"Fuck!" Husk said and dropped the thing on the table in hopes of the growth stopping when the contact ceased. It did not. The antler kept on getting longer and sprouting new prongs and it pushed some of his tools off the table.
Husk grabbed it again and concentrated. "Stop growing!"
It didn't. That is, not until it reached its full, very unwieldy size. It also refused to shrink back to the cute little thing it had been, no matter how much he concentrated and swore.
Okay, so no spoons. Now, what the actual fuck was he supposed do with this fucker? It wouldn't fit in the damn drawer. It was longer than his fucking arm!
After much thinking, he decided to hide it under his bed and see if it would shrink on its own eventually – no use making something out of it if it would just shrink down again and stop serving its purpose. When he remembered its existence a month later and it hadn't changed at all, he did some more thinking and eventually attached it vertically to the base of his post box as a highly dubious decoration. It actually balanced the post box quite nicely in his opinion, and he could hang some fucking Christmas decorations off it or some shit if he felt like being ridiculously festive. It would either amuse or offend Alastor, and that would be a bonus!
He stopped receiving spam mail immediately. He never found out if the magic somehow prevented or destroyed such garbage or if the freaky antler simply discouraged all bullshit from the mailman. Regardless, at least it turned out useful in the end.