#that's why mangie makes is the greatest ship of all time.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

x. he/him. mangie makes evil version.

wanted to put him in normal clothes / do a compare-n-contrast on his younger self but i was a bit indecisive initially on his '00s haircut. i think some shaggy fringe fits and his modern cut is like an update/toned down version of that.

[lost-n-stereo]

For anon, Nick and Sabrina for the ship question meme. This got super long (over 4300 words) and they kind of go in order, so I guess you can read them as one long fic broken up into moments. Or you can skip around and read individually. Warning: Some sexy times but nothing super explicit.

who likes to go on drives to nowhere in particular

She gets a car for her seventeenth birthday. It’s small and sleek, a black convertible that fits her personality like a glove. Nick asks for a ride the night of her birthday party, gives her a wicked grin like he’s not only talking about the car. Sabrina laughs happily and grabs her keys, throws a see you later in the direction of her aunts and drags him outside by his hand.

“Where do you want to go?” She asks him as she starts the engine, relishing in the way the purr vibrates through her entire body. The car is quiet as a mouse as the top comes down and tucks into the back seat.

Nick reaches over and sets his hand on hers where it rests on the gear shift. “Wherever you’re going, Spellman.”

They drive until they end up in the middle of nowhere, nothing but the moon illuminating their path. When they pull over Nick raises an eyebrow, silently asking her what’s next.

Sabrina gives him a devilish grin, climbs over into the passenger seat and kisses the breath from his lungs.

who is in charge of the radio or playlist in the car (and what do they play)?

“This band sucks.”

Nick growls, his girlfriend’s face a mix of annoyance and amusement. She likes control of the radio, hell she likes to be in control always, but they have an agreement that whoever is driving gets to pick the music.

“I’m driving, Spellman,” he retorts. “My car, my music.”

Sabrina pouts, a cute little trick she’s learned will get him to do her bidding any time she likes. “Nick…”

He wants to roll his eyes when she leans over the console to brush a kiss across his cheek but he can’t. “That’s not fair,” he says and she giggles, grabs her phone from her bag and plugs it into the stereo.

“You’ll like this song, I promise.”

She plays some oldies, songs he remembers his parents listening to before they died, and when he looks over to see his girlfriend bobbing her head to the music he can’t be mad.

He doesn’t need to like the song. He just needs to love the girl.

who reaches over to hold the other’s hand 

“Tell me again why we’re here?”

Sabrina laughs, takes in his furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. Baxter High’s senior prom is in full swing, black and gold streamers and balloons covering every square inch of the school gym.

“I thought you wanted to come to this with me?” She asks, and she sees something flash across his face. Nerves, maybe. But Nicholas Scratch doesn’t get nervous or scared of anything.

“I just…” He’s quiet as he looks around. “The last time we went to a school dance I almost got you killed.”

Her heart breaks as his voice does. “Nick...don’t say that.” She reaches for his hand and brings it up to her lips, dropping a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t blame you for that, I never have.”

He doesn’t look convinced so she grabs his other hand and turns so she’s standing directly in his line of sight.

“There is nowhere else in the world I want to be right now, Nicholas. And nobody else I want to be here with.”

There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes for a split second and then he practically melts into her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist.

“Let’s go dance,” he whispers in her ear and she nods, kisses him once quickly before dragging him behind her by the hand.

who is more likely to hog the bed

She wakes up inside of a furnace.

At least, that’s what it feels like. Nick’s body is spread across her dorm room bed, somehow taking up all of the extra space while still being wrapped around her completely. He’s asleep on his stomach, pressed against her shoulder to ankle.

She’d be mad if he wasn’t shirtless, showing off all the hard planes of his back muscles in the pale light of the moon shining through the window.

“Nick,” she murmurs, lips pressed against the back of his shoulder. “Nicholas.” She repeats his name a little louder, pushing him a little with the tips of her fingers.

“Babe, I’m sleeping,” he says into the pillow and she snorts.

“If you’re sleeping than how are you answering me right now?” She whispers to the back of his head, laughing when he groans and flips over.

“Isn’t it bad enough you kept me up all night,” he says with a wolfish grin and she smacks his arm lightly.

“You’re hogging the bed. And you’re too hot.”

She regrets the words the minute they leave her mouth because he laughs, pulls her body so it’s under his.

“Never heard you complain before,” he says, dropping lazy kisses from shoulder to shoulder.

“You’re the worst.” It doesn’t take long before her shirt is off and on the floor next to her bed.

“Maybe, but you love me.”

who favors lazy morning sex

Feather light touches on his back wake him up, his eyes squinting against the bright morning sun.

When he turns over she’s watching him, her eyes already alight with want, and he chuckles as he moves closer to her under the covers.

“G’morning, gorgeous.” He whispers the words across her lips and she hums in response, her eyes falling closed as he gently pushes her onto her back.

Her breath hitches when he hooks her legs around his waist. They’ve been known to get a little wild when they are alone, even breaking her dorm room bed her first week of college. But he takes his time, kisses down her neck while she breathes his name in his ear.

They are almost completely silent, open mouth to open mouth, as he rocks into her and brings her to the edge with him. Her eyes squeeze shut when she reaches the brink but he nudges her chin with his knuckle.

“Look at me, Sabrina.”

She does, her eyes blazing red fire hot into his, and he says her name like a prayer when they let go at the same time.

They are practically panting when he falls onto his back and Sabrina hooks her leg over his, despite the fact that his skin is burning hot and sweaty.

“We should start every morning just like that.”

He couldn’t agree more.

who likes to drink their coffee or tea outside in the mornings

It’s strange, being in Nick’s bed without him.

When she started college he thought it was lame living at the academy, his words not hers, and decided to get a small apartment for himself near her campus.

It’s sweet, the way he stops by every Tuesday and Thursday to have lunch with her, and she spends more nights at his place than her dorm room.

Usually they wake up at the same time, legs intertwined under his black silk sheets. Sheets that she makes fun of him for mercilessly but in truth she loves the way the soft fabric feels surrounding her.

But this morning she’s alone and she knows that if he’s not with her there is only one place he’d be this early in the day.

She dresses in a pair of socks and the black button down he wore to Dorian’s last night. It still smells like his cologne, like warm spices and leather from his jacket, and she lifts it to her nose once quickly before setting off to find her boyfriend.

The door to the balcony is ajar, just like she knew it would be, and Nick’s relaxing in a chair with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips. A cup of coffee in his hand, resting on his knee, is his only accessory.

She considers saying something, but he looks so peaceful that she’s content to just watch for a minute or two. His eyes are closed, head tilted back as he soaks up the morning sun.

“Enjoying the show?”

She’s startled when he speaks, a slow smirk appearing without him opening his eyes.

“I am, actually,” she admits as she makes her way over to him. He looks up at her finally, eyes playful and happy, before setting his coffee cup on the small glass table next to him and pulling her onto his lap.

“I don’t like waking up without you,” she says and he grabs her pouted bottom lip between both of his.

He kisses her senseless before whispering two words into her skin that sound like the world’s greatest promise.

“Never again.”

who reads the paper or watches the news

There’s something to be said about a crisp newspaper in his hand.

He doesn’t care much about mortal news, if he’s being honest, but he does like to be knowledgeable in a multitude of areas. It helps in his part time job at Dorian’s, where he works as a bartender when he’s not attending upper level classes at the academy.

If someone comes in and wants to talk about the weather, or the mayoral race, or whatever the heaven else people care about, he wants to be able to hold a decent conversation.

Sabrina makes fun of him for reading the local Greendale paper, says it’s a lot of mortal nonsense as if she’s not half one herself.

But sometimes she’ll curl up on the couch next to him while he fills in the weekly crossword. Or she’ll laugh over his shoulder at a silly comic.

He finishes up the Monday paper, carefully rips out a comic that he thinks she’ll like and tacks it to his refrigerator.

When she comes in later that night, exhausted after a full day of classes, he hears her open and close the fridge before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

And that right there is worth the price of the subscription tenfold

who feeds and takes care of the stray cat that hangs around the house (and pretty much makes it not a stray)

“We can’t have two cats.”

Sabrina huffs and looks at the tiny black kitten that is currently eating tuna out of a dish on their porch.  

“Salem isn’t even really a cat,” she argues. They have been living in this house for three weeks now and she’s been feeding this little one since the day after they moved in.

“He sure uses the litter box like one,” Nick retorts and she rolls her eyes. “Who’s going to take care of it when we’re at school and work?”

Salem meows from the other side of the porch and Sabrina snorts. “I think Salem is offering.”

Nick grumbles as he looks at the tiny mangy kitten that’s more fur than body. “How is one cat going to take care of another?” But he still moves forward and reaches down to scoop the little kitten into his arms.

“What shall we call you, small creature?” He asks as he stares into its yellow eyes.

Salem meows again and Sabrina claps. “Delphi is perfect, Salem. See, he’s taking care of her already.”

Nick narrows his eyes and looks down at Delphi, her tiny ears twitching when he says her name out loud for the first time.

“Well,” he sighs. “Welcome to the family, Delphi.”

who chooses the color of paint for the walls

“Blue?”

Sabrina shakes her head and shuffles through the stack of paint chips in her hand. “Green?”

Nick pretends to gag which makes her laugh. “Yellow?” He asks holding up a canary shade and she pulls it from his hand and rips it in half. “Guess not.”

They play this game until there are only three paint chips left and they reach for the same one at the same time.

“Red?” Sabrina asks, eyes hopeful as she holds the cranberry swatch out to him.

“Red,” he agrees and just like that their bedroom wall has a new accent color.

Sabrina grins, tossing the paint chip over her shoulder where it lands in the center of the others.

“We make a good team,” she says as she crawls into his lap, nipping at his lips with her own.

“That we do, Spellman. That we do.”

who comes home with the weirder work stories

His job at Dorian’s comes with certain perks.

They drink for free, for starters, which is nice because his girl loves a shot of absinthe every now and again. Dorian decided to officially open up the club to everyone, witches and warlocks alike, at Sabrina’s request. Nick knows that Dorian has a soft spot for his girlfriend and it both annoys him and pleases him at the same time.

Being a bartender also opens him up to a world of strange people and the stories that they bring with them. Sabrina likes to hear them when he gets home from work, curls up in the armchair next to the fireplace in their bedroom and listens while he tells their tall tales. Tonight is no different and as he steps out of his jeans and into a pair of sweats he tells her the latest.

“We had a warlock come in tonight that claimed to be Isaac Fawkes.” He laughs at her confused face. “One of the first stage magicians, supposedly dead for a few hundred years, but I suppose it’s not unheard of for someone to fake their death.”

“That’s fascinating. You don’t believe him?”

Nick shrugs. “Isaac Fawkes was married with children, so unless they were all witches, I highly doubt it.”

“It doesn’t really matter if it’s true or not,” Sabrina says, allowing herself to be pulled up when he reaches for her hands. He drops a kiss to her nose. “It’s a good story, either way.”

The next night at work he hears about a coven of witches in Norway that celebrates the northern lights every year with a three day festival. He listens carefully, knowing that Sabrina will love to hear about it when he returns home.

who takes long baths 

All the lights are off when she get home from school, which is strange since she saw Nick’s car parked outside.

“Nicholas?” She looks around, sees the only light shining is coming from where the bathroom door is slightly open. “Nick?”

The door opens quietly and she lets out a small gasp when she sees candles everywhere, lining every surface, some even floating in midair.

“Welcome home, Spellman.” Nick is sitting on the edge of the bathtub which is already full of water, the water so hot there is steam rising from the surface.

“What is all this?” She asks, spinning around to see the room from every angle. Their bathroom is large, the entire reason she wanted this house to begin with, and he’s managed to make it feel small and intimate.

“Just wanted to treat you to a relaxing night. Come, the water is just how you like it.” He holds his hand out and she steps between his legs. His hand comes up to her side to slide down the zipper of her skirt and she uses his shoulders to hold onto as she steps out of it.

“Will you be joining me?” She asks as she gets undressed with his help. He grins, reaches behind him to pull the Henley he’s wearing off his body.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

who has the full skin care routine

It’s no secret that her boyfriend is a little vain.

She’s always laughed at his nighttime routine, because as a warlock he’s been blessed with practically eternal youth. His olive skin is always blemish free, a dark brown lock of hair never out of place.

But he holds a secret that he’d never tell another living soul, one that involves a shelf full of vials and potions. Only they aren’t magical, not in the strictest sense of the word.

“Nicholas,” she laughs as he washes his face that night. “You do realize you’re basically immortal, right?” This isn’t the first, tenth or even hundredth time she’s muttered these words and it definitely won’t be the last.

“Sabrina,” he says with the same inflection that she spoke his name with. “It doesn’t hurt anything to make sure my skin stays looking youthful. Trust me, you’ll thank me when we’re in our hundreds and I still look this good.”

Her heart clenches a little in her chest and she grins, slides her arms around his waist from behind. “So you think we’ll still be together in our hundreds, huh?”

“Well, I hope so,” he says, echoing the same sentiment from all those years ago on her aunts’ front porch.

She drops a kiss to the middle of his back and tells him to hurry up so they can get into bed.

He misses several steps of his nighttime routine that day.

who gives the other a massage when they seem tense

The front door slamming startles Nick as he’s flipping pancakes in the kitchen, causing the one on his spatula to fly off and into the sink.

“Babe?” He calls out, listening to the sounds of Sabrina huffing and throwing her school bag onto the small bench by the door. Seconds later she appears in the doorway, looking adorably angry and practically stomping her foot. “Hey, everything okay?”

She scowls. “I hate my history professor, Nick. He thinks he’s so much smarter than everyone else and he’s not…oh boy, is he not.”

Nick hides a grin behind his hand. “I’m sorry, love. What happened exactly?”

She goes into a long story about correcting some information her professor was spouting and him tearing into her in front of all of her classmates. While she’s telling him he stands behind her, hands kneading into her shoulders to relieve some of her tension.

“I should turn him into a toad,” she says seriously. “Can you imagine? One day he’s talking about ancient Rome and boom!” She claps her hands once. “Frogs legs for dinner.”

Nick snorts. “You’re starting to sound like Zelda.”

It makes her shudder, he can feel it under her hands. “Shit, you’re right.”

He grins as her head starts to drop a little and she hums in satisfaction. “Is this helping?”

Sabrina reaches up and holds his hand, gives him a thankful smile over her shoulder.

“More than you know.”

who is more easily turned on 

He’s learned, over the years they have been together, that making love to a mortal, even a half mortal, is nothing like being with a witch.

And he means that in the best possible way.

It’s no secret that he’s lived many years longer than Sabrina and because of that, and the lustful ways of witches, he’s had more than his fair share of experience.

But nothing compares to how it is with Sabrina.

Every touch seems to set her on fire from the inside out. Barely there kisses make her toes curl. It’s as if her mortal side falls prey to him, amplifying every sensation no matter how many times they are together.

But then there’s the witch side, the side of her that completely and utterly owns him. The fire within her pulls him under, time after time, until he’s gone entirely. It’s then that she has total control over him, sending him to his knees with a whisper or a touch.

So yes, he’s spent many years on this earth and has experienced more things than he can remember, but not a single one of them mattered until her.

who prefers to kick back with a drink in the evenings

Dorian’s is packed wall to wall with dancing witches, bodies melding together under the lights shining above them.

Sabrina sips her drink, something fruity and pink that Dorian promised she’d love. Nick drinks his standard bourbon, one hand holding his glass on his knee and the other resting on her thigh.

“This place is insane tonight,” he says with a grimace. “Glad I had the night off.”

Sabrina leans over and kisses him, licks the taste of bourbon from her lips and relishes in the way his eyes darken as he watches the trail of her tongue.

“With this many people we really shouldn’t stay long.” Her fingertips start a slow and lazy trail starting at his wrist, up his arm to the back of his neck. She pushes her fingers into the lush hair on the back of his head and he practically growls.

“Careful, Spellman. Keep it up and I might not be able to wait until we get home.” His grip on her thigh tightens, sending chills up her spine.

Looking around, she spots a door that leads to a hallway full of offices and storage rooms, places she knows no one will look for them in.

“Maybe we can stay and drink,” she says and laughs when he pouts. “But after we...” He follows her line of sight and gives her a devilish grin.

“Ladies first.”

who stays up too late reading

The moonlight wakes her and when she reads the clock it tells her that it’s near two in the morning.

Nick’s side of the bed is empty but she can hear soft music coming from downstairs so she knows he made it home from work okay.

She climbs down the stairs quietly, careful to miss the second step to the bottom that creaks. It’s not that she wants to scare him or spy on him, she just loves to see the Nicholas Scratch that no one else gets to see.

He’s sitting in his favorite armchair, Salem perched on one arm and Delphi curled at his feet. A large leather bound book sits in his lap. If she squints she can almost make out the words on the side, something in Latin that tells her it’s a spellbook of some kind. That doesn’t surprise her, as he’s been trying to climb the ranks in the Church of Night, on their mutual quest of helping her Aunt Zelda transform it into a coven to be proud of.

Nick absentmindedly scratches Salem on the head and she watches as her familiar purrs, nudging his hand when he stops. Sabrina chuckles, perhaps a little too loudly because Nick’s head shoots up and he raises an eyebrow when he catches her watching him.

“What are you doing up?” He asks, motioning for her to come to him, pulling her onto his lap when she reaches him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorts as she runs her fingers through his hair. “I’m not supposed to wake up without you, remember?”

“To be fair, you woke up about five hours before I expected you to.” Nick presses a kiss to her knuckles and turns her hand over, placing another kiss to her palm. “I missed you tonight.”

She hums. “Just tonight?”

His eyes are warm when he looks up at her. “Whenever we’re not together,” he admits. “It’s something of a problem.”

She doesn’t fight him when he tugs her down for a kiss that lingers after he pulls away.

“What are you reading?”

They stay that way for the next hour, his arm wrapped around her waist and her hand in his hair, until they are both so tired they can barely keep their eyes open.

When they finally go to bed, both cats following loyally behind them, Nick holds her hand and doesn’t let her go, even as he drifts off to sleep.

who is the deep sleeper 

“Sabrina.”

He whispers her name against the bare skin of her shoulder but she doesn’t budge. Saying her name again, he places the small velvet box he’s been hiding for the past three weeks onto the pillow beside her cheek so it’ll be the first thing she sees when she wakes up.

“Spellman,” he says with a laugh. “I swear woman, you sleep like the dead.”

For a minute he considers maybe just letting her sleep and trying again later but then she stirs, eyelashes fluttering as she opens her eyes. She blinks a few times, the world coming into focus a little at a time, and he can see when she registers the foreign object in her direct line of sight.

“Nicholas?”

His heart is pounding in his chest and nothing has ever been this nerve-wracking, which is saying something considering he once held Lucifer himself as a prisoner inside of his body. She’s sitting up now, the small box resting on her open palm.

“Is this what I think it is?”

He chuckles softly. “If you think it’s anything other than an engagement ring, than no.” A tear falls down her porcelain cheek and his hand comes up right away to wipe it away.  “Open it up, Spellman.”

“Oh my gosh, Nicholas. Is this…” She carefully takes the ring out of the box. “It looks just like…”

“Your mother’s,” he nods. “Ambrose found a photo and I thought that you’d like it.” All of a sudden he’s second guessing himself, and he’s sure that his voice is giving him away.

“It’s the most beautiful thing in the entire world,” she whispers and all he can think as he looks at her is impossible.

She’s the most beautiful thing in the entire world.

“So what do you say, Spellman? Think it’s time I start calling you Scratch instead?” He asks as he takes the ring from her, slides it onto her ring finger and looks into her eyes, which are quickly tearing up.

“I think I’d like that,” she says with a watery laugh, and when the ring is on her finger she gives herself a minute to look at it before tackling him onto their bed. 

“Except, it’ll be Spellman-Scratch,” she says against his lips and he laughs, holds her tightly by the waist and kisses the breath from her lungs.

“Of course,” he says in earnest. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[tunehummed]

TWO-PLAYER GAME. — 355 sentences from joe iconis and george salazar’s 2018 album plus a few bonuses from live performances! change pronouns as needed. trigger warning for mentions of drugs, depression, and suicide.

BROADWAY, HERE I COME.

‛ i’m high above the city. ’

‛ i’m standing on the ledge. ’

‛ the view from here is pretty. ’

‛ and i step off the edge. ’

‛ and now i’m fallin’, baby, through the sky. ’

‛ it’s my callin’, baby, don’t you cry. ’

‛ i’m fallin’ down through the sky. ’

‛ broadway, here i come. ’

‛ i could almost go to pieces, but i’m not quite there yet. ’

‛ see i’ve been bravin’ crazy weather, drownin’ out my cries. ’

‛ i pull myself together. ’

‛ i’m focused on the prize. ’

‛ and it’s a tune you can hum. ’

‛ will i remain the same, or will i change a little bit? ’

‛ will i feel broken or totally complete? ’

‛ will i retain my name when i’m the biggest, hugest hit? ’

‛ or will i blend in with the rest of the street? ’

‛ the people all are pointing. ’

‛ i bet they’d never guess that the saint that they’re anointing is frightened of the mess. ’

‛ but even though i fear it, i’m playin’ all my cards. ’

‛ baby, you are gonna hear it when i give them my regards. ’

‛ and i refuse to go numb. ’

‛ is it a scream or a cheer? ’

‛ well, never mind, i’ll never find out. ’

‛ cause broadway, i am here. ’

TWO-PLAYER GAME.

‛ find the bad guy, push ‘em aside. ’

‛ then move on forward with your friend at your side. ’

‛ it’s a two-player game. ’

‛ so when they make an attack, you know you got a brother. ’

‛ gonna have your back. ’

‛ remain on course! ’

‛ and if they give you a smack, you use your force! ’

‛ and if you leave your brother behind it’s lame. ’

‛ cause it’s an effed up world. ’

‛ dude, you are cooler than a vintage cassette. ’

‛ it’s just that no one else but me thinks that yet. ’

‛ you’re just a nothing in this high school scheme. ’

‛ but it’s no big cause you and i are a team. ’

‛ nobody here appreciates, but soon we’ll be together where they do. ’

‛ cause guys like us are cool in college. ’

‛ we rule in college. ’

‛ high school is hell, but we navigate it well. ’

‛ it’s what we do. ’

‛ we make it a two-player game. ’

‛ as losers, we have fought together for years. ’

‛ now we’re stuck on a level and i wanna move on. ’

‛ just wait two years whereupon you’ll realize guys like us are cool in college. ’

‛ dude, i know, i get it. ’

‛ but we’re not in college. ’

‛ high school is wack, but we have each other’s back. ’

‛ you know that you are my favorite person. ’

‛ that doesn’t mean that i can’t still dream. ’

‛ is it really true? ’

‛ we’re never not gonna be a team. ’

‛ high school is shit, and you gotta help me conquer it. ’

I LOVE PLAY REHEARSAL.

‛ i love play rehearsal. ’

‛ because it’s the best. because it is fun. ’

‛ and i get depressed as soon as it’s done. ’

‛ see, i just use the word to emphasize the point. ’

‛ i am passionate a lot. ’

‛ i have mad, gigantic feelings. ’

‛ red and frantic feelings about most everything. ’

‛ like if i’m living up to all i’m meant to be. ’

‛ oh, uh… where was i? ’

‛ cause you are equipped with directions and text. ’

‛ life is easy in rehearsal. ’

‛ you follow a script so you know what comes next. ’

‛ sometimes life can’t work out the way it works out in the play. ’

‛ only when i’m in a show am i the center of attention. ’

‛ like when i’m [role] or [role] and can i mention? ’

‛ those were two of my greatest roles. did you see those? ’

‛ and no matter how hard i try, it’s impossible to narrow down the many reasons why. ’

‛ i happiness cry whenever it starts! ’

‛ it’s just so universal, getting to try playing so many parts. ’

‛ most humans do one thing for all of their lives. the thought of that gives me hives! ’

‛ i’ve got so many interests i wanna pursue. ’

‛ and why am i telling this to you? ’

‛ guess there’s a part of me that wants to. ’

‛ my brain is like ‘bzzz.’ my heart is like ‘wow!’ ’

‛ and it’s starting soon. ’

TINY SHORT LITTLE SONG.

‛ monkeys are cool. babies are too. ’

‛ they make funny sounds that sound simple and new. ’

‛ these are sounds that belong in my tiny short little song. ’

ANDY’S SONG.

‛ i ride my bike to work every morning. ’

‛ i ring my bell and make sure my helmet’s tight. ’

‛ MOVE, ASSHOLE! ’

‛ have a nice day! ’

‛ that happy grin is enough to provide me with total satisfaction for a long, long while! ’

‛ and i don’t have a car because of pollution. ’

‛ so completely not cause i’m much too scared to drive. ’

‛ i’ve gotten pretty far in my evolution. ’

‛ i don’t need a lot to be totally alive! ’

‛ you know those bicycle seats cut down on your sperm count. ’

‛ uuuh… i know that cause you tell me everyday. ’

‛ that boy needs to get laid. ’

‛ i tuck my polo shirt in my levis cause it looks SHARP! okay? ’

‛ how come every person i receive tries to tell me i need ‘something more?’ ’

‛ i don’t need a girlfriend, i got a goldfish! ’

‛ i don’t have a secret dream or some bold wish. ’

‛ i’m fine with what i’ve got, i feel totally alive! ’

‛ i never open it or shake it, too afraid i’d break it. ’

‛ i’ve had self-control since way back then. ’

‛ there’s nothing else i really need. ’

‛ you may think that i want more than i let on, but i’m really fine. ’

‛ but i’m really fine, so no need to be appalled. ’

‛ i’m this way by choice and what you can bet is i’ll keep moving forward. ’

‛ i’ll keep moving forward, the opposite of stalled! ’

‛ your bike is LITERALLY stalled in front of my car! ’

‛ i don’t have a car cause they’re overrated. ’

‛ i don’t have a girlfriend and somehow, i survive! ’

‛ and just as i’ve stated, i mean what i’ve said. ’

‛ sure as the helmet’s on my head, i feel totally alive! ’

‛ i’m the opposite of dead, i feel totally alive! ’

THE ANSWER.

‛ when a fire starts in the hull, how much time do you have before it spreads to the deck? ’

‛ minutes? hours? what time is it anyway? ’

‛ how do you tell your family that you wanna quit school and just play with your band? ’

‛ when a fire starts in the hall, how much time do you have before it burns itself out? ’

‛ and why do i feel like i’m choking lately? ’

‛ what am i doing here? ’

‛ what am i looking for? ’

‛ maybe school, or maybe love, or maybe none of the above is the answer. ’

‛ maybe for once i’ll really try, or fuck it all and just get high cause that’s an answer. ’

‛ cause that’s answer. feels like an answer. ’

‛ and who do i wanna be? ’

‛ what’s the furthest distance a ship can be from shore before it loses its signal? ’

‛ maybe i’ll practice my guitar, or read a book, or steal a car and steal the answer. ’

‛ i’ll get a job and i’ll get paid, or get a girlfriend and get laid, and get the answer. ’

‛ i’ll join the army, go to war, give up my smokes or smoke some more. ’

‛ i need an answer. ’

‛ move to the village, shave my head, wind up happy, wind up dead. ’

‛ wind up in debt, wind up in love, or maybe none of the above is the answer. ’

‛ maybe it’s okay that i don’t have a plan and i don’t have a clue. ’

‛ i’m 19 and that doesn’t mean that i should know exactly what i wanna do, right? ’

‛ i’m 19 and that doesn’t that i should know what i wanna do. ’

‛ i’ve got time to make mistakes, make up my mind. ’

‛ i’ve got time enough to find out all the answers. ’

‛ but i am scared and i’m afraid that a decision won’t get made. ’

‛ i’m afraid that a decision won’t get made and i’ll be like this forever. ’

‛ i need help, need extra help to find the answers. ’

‛ what’s the answer? ’

‛ i don’t know. ’

‛ pencils down, papers turned over. time’s up. ’

‛ time’s up. ’

LISA.

‛ ain’t got no future. ’

‛ ain’t got no future, but i got ADD. ’

‛ but i got ADD. ’

‛ i steal from 7/11. ’

‛ i’m fuckin’ ugly. ’

‛ but she pretends she doesn’t care. ’

‛ she laughs and smiles, fingers through my hair. ’

‛ she must be ashamed of me. ’

‛ so i try and i try to change myself. ’

‛ so i try and i try to change myself, but my back’s against a wall. ’

‛ but my back’s against a wall. ’

‛ i don’t deserve all the coolness of her. ’

‛ i don’t deserve [name] at all. ’

‛ pollute my body. ’

‛ she makes me feel clean, clean, clean. ’

‛ i say ‘i feel like i’m drownin’’. ’

‛ and even though she don’t, she say ‘i know what you mean.’ ’

‛ sign on to AOL and think of funny things to say. ’

‛ she’ll always LOL, never pretends like she’s away. ’

‛ because she likes me for some reason. ’

‛ i know i’m dumb. i know i’m ugly. ’

‛ i know that she is not. ’

‛ i know if i were her i’d hate me. ’

‛ i hope that she does not. ’

‛ i hope that she does not hate me. ’

THE VAGABOND.

‛ i’m wearin’ two pair of underwear, some worn out kicks, and my mangy hair. ’

‛ my mangy hair could formerly be referred to as blond. ’

‛ i’m just a couple years out the clink and i’ll take showers in your kitchen sink. ’

‛ i guess i’m what you’d call a vagabond. ’

‛ i been walkin’ the highway for a while. ’

‛ fragrance of the road is my cologne. ’

‛ maybe i get some sun, maybe get a ride. ’

‛ i don’t worry none, let destiny decide. ’

‛ life’s laid back when you’re totally alone. ’

‛ life’s laid back when you’re on your own. ’

‛ see i don’t have much, don’t have much. ’

‛ don’t want much, don’t want much. ’

‛ don’t need much, don’t need much. ’

‛ don’t need much ‘cept maybe the promise of whiskey at the end of the day. ’

‛ i’m just a vagabond lookin’ for a place to stay. ’

‛ see i walk and walk and walk some more. ’

‛ i’m green grass high and a little sore, hopin’ that a car will soon appear. ’

‛ i stick out my thumb and i let it linger. ’

‛ and my eye kinda travels to the ring on my finger. ’

‛ it reminds me of a woman who’s not here. ’

‛ and my chest starts hurting, that’s just cause of the heat. ’

‛ and for the first time in days, i start feelin’ my feet. ’

‛ i start feelin’ the feelin’, the journey’s crushin’ me. ’

‛ cool it, man, just get it out of your head. ’

‛ where’s the car, where’s the car? this road’s fuckin’ dead! ’

‛ but i don’t worry, just repeat instead. ’

‛ yeah, well fleein’ ain’t a problem for me. ’

‛ cause if you get me down then i guarantee, i’ll up and leave and i never will return. ’

‛ i’ll break your heart, i’ll break your back. i won’t lose no sleep. ’

‛ shit, i can’t keep track of every bridge i use and then i burn. ’

‛ and the thought of what i’d done to you is what sends me through the desert and beyond. ’

‛ i’m up for a trade. just take me far away from mistakes i made. ’

‛ take pity on the broken vagabond. ’

‛ the promise of shelter at the end of the day, from the places where the bad bastards swarm and pray. ’

‛ with every bone in my body wanna hear you say that this vagabond can put his walkin’ shoes away. ’

NORMAN.

‛ i haven’t known her very long. ’

‛ think i can tell that something’s wrong. ’

‛ think i spy tear drops clinging to her pale white skin. ’

‛ on this dirty night, i just want her to feel alright. ’

‛ we all get a little sad sometimes. ’

‛ i want to watch her chew her food. ’

‛ i want to watch her in the nude. ’

‛ i want to watch her wash away her ugly sins. ’

‛ and if i’m caught she will not slap my hands because she understands. ’

‛ because she understands that we all act a little bad. ’

‛ we all act a little bad sometimes. ’

‛ i can see your image in picture frames looking ever so formal. ’

‛ if you rearrange the letters in both our names, you get one away from normal. ’

‛ we’re both one away from normal. ’

‛ i’ve never seen a girl like her. ’

‛ we’re not in love. i wish we were! ’

‛ put all your love inside of me. ’

‛ i’m in a trap so set me free. ’

‛ let’s go right now, the two of us, and not look back. ’

‛ and the logic might be hazy, but i’m hoping that she’s just as crazy. ’

‛ we all go a little mad sometimes. ’

‛ we all go a little mad sometimes. don’t we? ’

‛ i can tell you’re hungry and you need some food. ’

‛ if i didn’t offer i’d be awfully rude. ’

‛ it’s not fancy, it’s not stable. but join me if you’re able. ’

SONG OF THE BROWN BUFFALO.

‛ uuuh, might i ask… who the fuck are you? ’

‛ hey, white man. do you know what i am? ’

‛ i’m the brown buffalo by way of mexico. ’

‛ i am an attorney on a lifelong journey. ’

‛ never met a man i couldn’t devour. ’

‛ never met a plan i couldn’t put in place. ’

‛ they attack, i brace. they escape, i chase. ’

‛ i’m a tad temperamental, so get out my face. ’

‛ i’m mad monumental, see my dick from space! ’

‛ i am strength for the weak, i am speed for the slow. ’

‛ this is the song of the brown buffalo. ’

‛ i’m beastly and i’m brutish and my fur is caked with gore. ’

‛ i’m the trouble you’ve been looking for. ’

‛ you don’t know i’m brilliant cause you only hear my roar. ’

‛ i don’t ever hide from a fight that needs to be fought. ’

‛ i would never filter a cigarette or a thought. ’

‛ my mind is open wide and it grows and it grows. ’

‛ inhibitions cast aside, it just goes where it goes. ’

‛ see i’m a great big bad brown buffalo. ’

‛ my head is full of acid, but my heart is kind and pure. ’

‛ he’s the trouble you’ve been looking for! ’

‛ my politics are liberal, but i pack a .44. ’

‛ i pack a .44, which i use to fight for those who are too weak to wage a war. ’

‛ i’m the trouble we’ve been looking for! ’

‛ my mind is open wide, it expands, it expands. ’

‛ every open gate i pried with these hands. ’

‛ leaving no path untried, walks the sands. ’

‛ i’m no ordinary human, no no no. ’

‛ this is my birthright, baby, and this is my song! ’

‛ food, booze, drugs, guns, and radical politics! ’

‛ you’re the brown buffalo. ’

‛ see now you know. ’

MICHAEL IN THE BATHROOM.

‛ i am hanging in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall. ’

‛ i could stay right here or disappear, and nobody’d even notice at all. ’

‛ i’m a creeper in a bathroom cause my buddy kinda left me alone. ’

‛ but i’d rather fake pee than stand awkwardly or pretend to check a text on my phone. ’

‛ everything felt fine when i was half of a pair. ’

‛ now through no fault of mine, there’s no other half there. ’

‛ now i’m just [name] in the bathroom. ’

‛ [name] in the bathroom at a party. ’

‛ forget how long it’s been. ’

‛ no, you can’t come in! ’

‛ i’m waiting it out till it’s time to leave. ’

‛ i’m just [name] who you don’t know. ’

‛ [name] flyin’ solo. ’

‛ [name] in the bathroom by himself. ’

‛ all by himself. ’

‛ i am hiding, but he’s out there, just ignoring all our history. ’

‛ memories get erased and i’ll get replaced with a newer, cooler version of me. ’

‛ i’ll get replaced with a newer, cooler version of me. ’

‛ i hear a drunk girl sing along to whitney through the door. ’

‛ now there’s no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore! ’

‛ i half regret the beers. ’

‛ i’ll wait as long as i need till my face is dry. ’

‛ i’ll just blame it on weed or something in my eye. ’

‛ they’re gonna start to shout soon. ’

‛ oh hell yeah, i’ll be out soon! ’

‛ it sucks he left me here alone. ’

‛ here in this teenage battlezone. ’

‛ i feel the pressure blowin’ up. ’

‛ my big mistake was showin’ up. ’

‛ i throw some water in my face and i am in a better place. ’

‛ i go to open up the door, but i can’t hear knocking anymore. ’

‛ and i can’t help but yearn for a different time. ’

‛ then i look in the mirror and the present is clearer. ’

‛ this is a heinous night. ’

‛ i wish i stayed at home in bed, watching cable porn. ’

‛ wish i offed myself instead, wish i was never born! ’

‛ i’m just [name] who’s a loner, so he must be a stoner. ’

‛ god, he’s such a loser! ’

‛ all you know about me is my name. ’

‛ awesome party, i’m so glad i came. ’

THE GOODBYE SONG.

‛ the time has come. ’

‛ i’m flying away. ’

‛ mouth is numb. heart don’t know what to say. ’

‛ and although i’ll be out of sight, dear, know i’ll be right here. ’

‛ right here forever. ’

‛ and when you look to the night skies, don’t think of goodbyes. ’

‛ think how i’m right here. ’

‛ thank you for teaching me lessons. ’

‛ thank you for listening to mine. ’

‛ don’t be scared, you’ll be fine. ’

‛ come! ’

‛ no, you can’t come with me. ’

‛ stay! ’

‛ i wish i could. ’

‛ goodbye. ’

‛ i know it’s hard to say. ’

‛ i’d stay if i could. ’

‛ i’d stay if i could, but the universe won’t let me. ’

‛ but the universe won’t let me, so please be good. ’

‛ so please be good and don’t you forget me. ’

KABOOM.

‛ i never cared about caring much before. ’

‛ i rolled my eyes and even texting was a chore. ’

‛ i was your average heartless kid. ’

‛ hey, read this book. ’

‛ the book is by some guy who’s dead. ’

‛ i read it and i’m glad i did. ’

‛ it was by a person who i never knew, but the words made sense and the message too. ’

‛ the words made sense and message too. ’

‛ it made me fired up, it made me care. ’

‛ i wasn’t scared, i was not alone. ’

‛ made me wanna make something of my own. ’

‛ something wired up that i could share. ’

‛ and that person i would never see just totally affected me. ’

‛ is that legacy? ’

‛ i never cared about fireworks before. ’

‛ i thought that they were just for babies, nothing more. ’

‛ i was your average fucking kid. ’

‛ i was your average fucking kid, but then i started giving things a second look. ’

‛ but then i started giving things a second look and realized fireworks were kind of like that book. ’

‛ and i’m really glad i did. ’

‛ if handled with intelligence and care, the explosion and the crashing sound can seen and felt for miles around. ’

‛ it reaches folks who weren’t even there. ’

‛ even though i didn’t see the blast, i watched glitter in the sky blow past. ’

‛ and that’s legacy. ’

‛ what do i leave behind? ’

‛ which is why we gotta make a spark. ’

‛ which makes a flame and then will leave its mark for someone else to find. ’

‛ and that person who lived dangerously makes me braver than i used to be. ’

‛ and now i’m fired up and how i care. ’

‛ and i always squeeze my bloody heart and i let it drip into my art. ’

‛ and wow, i’m fired up. ’

‛ the light that shines on the distant shore is the light i will be aiming for, forever. ’

‛ it’s where i want to go. ’

‛ and i’m gonna reach it. ’

‛ oh, on with the wonderful show! ’

[weakzen]

Wretched Form

Edér loves his salty little skull. To a certain point.

Rating: T

AO3 Version

“This ship is a blight on Eora, a putrescent carbuncle festering with buffoons, hooligans, and dunderheaded tosspots.”

As he neared the starboard side of the hold, Concelhaut whirled and continued to pace, as much as a disembodied skull could pace, anyway.

“Xaurips in the rigging, imps in the forecastle, drunkards at the cannons and the helm! Bah!” he spat, whirling again. “And always the belching, the caterwauling, the slop of spilt drink, the vacant eyes over open-mouthed mastication and the ever-present, unending reek of hagfish. Disgusting, all of it! I would be doing the world a great favor if I excised this malignancy by chewing through the hull and sinking this abominable vessel to the bottom of the sea.”

“NEMNOK AGREE WITH TALKING SKULL, EH! NEMNOK WILL HELP DROWN NASTY GROUNDSTINK!”

Nemnok rushed through Edér's legs, skittered across the floorboards, and began to aggressively scratch at the wall of the hold.

“Oh, buddy, don't listen to him.”

“Yes, Nemnok! Do it! Together, we shall bring them all down!”

Edér sighed, then walked over to scoop up the tiny imp.

Nemnok screeched in protest and feebly swiped his claws, but he quickly became silent when Edér pulled a suole from his pocket and popped it into the imp's small mouth. For a moment, Nemnok stilled entirely, then he lowered his arms and curled inwards as he began to suckle the coin like a pacifier.

“Aw, that's right, buddy.” Smiling broadly, Edér shifted Nemnok into the crook of his elbow, cradling the creature against his chest while he began to rock his arms. “Who's a good imp? You are, little guy. Yes, you are.” Edér gently scratched the imp's belly and Nemnok's legs kicked in pleasure. “You got the cutest little feet and the cutest little tail. The cutest little tummy, too. I'm gonna bite it,” he cooed, cuddling Nemnok closer as he hunched over. “Yes, I am.”

“How revoltingly saccharine,” Concelhaut sneered. “Were that I still had a stomach myself, so I might express my disgust by vomiting upon the two of you.”

Edér glanced up. “No need to be grumpy, little skull. If you want some attention too, all you gotta do is ask.”

“For whom do you mistake me, you simpering mooncalf?” Concelhaut reared up and glowered down at Edér, the flames in his eye sockets burning brightly. “I am Concelhaut, fool! Greatest archmage to ever grace this miserable planet—and I do not ask. I take what I desire, whenever I desire it, just as I shall take your pathetic life once I have secured a new body!”

“C'mere,” Edér said, reaching for the former lich. “I got a whole other arm here just for you.”

Concelhaut hissed and swerved away from Edér's outstretched hand. “Keep your grubby fingers away from me, you cow-handed oaf! How many times must I tell you that before it penetrates that overgrown cabbage atop your neck?”

“Sure sounds like somebody needs a nap.”

“I do not require a—a nap.” Concelhaut grimaced, as though it had pained him to say the word. “Nor do I require your cuddles or your petting or any of your incessant gibbering, you lumbering, half-witted bespawler.”

Edér carried Nemnok over to one of the straw beds for the ship's numerous animals. Kneeling before it, he gingerly placed the imp into a blanket then carefully swaddled the creature, pressing a kiss to Nemnok's forehead after he finished.

“Look,” he began, glancing at the skull as he straightened. “I'll make a little bed for you too, okay?”

“I do not require a bed, either!” Concelhaut seethed. “Curse this wretched form! If I still had arms, I would smite you into the form of a swine, silence your flapping maw with an apple, and roast you into a succulent, honey-glazed dinner.”

“Well, I always did like a pork chop. My mom served 'em with applesauce on top, roasted potatoes and buttered green beans on the side.” Edér chuckled as he grabbed another blanket and shook it open. “Now you got my mouth watering, thinkin' about it.”

“Of course you would salivate at the thought of consuming yourself, you daft pillock. I wager you would be equally gluttonous if I served up a pan-seared cut of your fishy friend with a slice of lemon and some mashed parsnips.”

“Uh, wait,” Edér said, pausing. “Which fish friend, now?”

“That fribbling, layabout libertine.”

Edér squinted slightly.

“The dawdling dew-dropper, with all his insufferable singing and monkeyshines.”

Edér titled his head to the side, his mouth scrunching into a frown.

“Confound it, you dolt! Ondra's blasted whelp! The shark man! The marine godlike! That one. I can't be bothered to actually remember any of your names.”

“Oh, you mean Tekēhu. Okay, I got it.” Another chuckle rumbled past Edér's lips. “Heh, 'fishy friend.' That's real good. Gonna tell him that later.” He whipped the blanket behind himself, draping it over his shoulder, then paused once more. “Uh—what about him, again?”

A noise of deep displeasure rattled from Concelhaut's mandible and he surged away to resume his pacing.

“Damn this humiliation! Reduced to suffering the vacuous fiddle-faddle of a farmhand. Pah!” He swished back and forth across the hold, grinding his teeth. “Damn that ghastly, meddling busybody. Once more, this is entirely her fault. Damn her and her tedious puns and her consistently overcrowded pack. Who requires that many eggs, anyway? And for what purpose? They are not even hard-boiled for the rigors of travel!”

“Never know when you might want a road omelet.”

“When I regain corporeal form,” Concelhaut continued, ignoring him, “I shall delight in her vivisection. I will slowly dissect that loathsome saucebox, layer by grisly layer, until I hit bone and peel that Watcher's soul free. Then, victorious at last, I shall mount her ridiculous horns in my study as a trophy and a warning.”

“Y'know, I almost got to touch those horns once,” Edér said, as he gathered straw into a pile. “I had my hand and my face buried in her smoke hair—which is real soft and pettable, by the way—and I started to reach for her horns when, suddenly, I just couldn't move anymore. I fell over, and she started to drag me across the ground by my foot. At first, I thought she was tryin' to get me to some help, but then she just left me under this tree with a beehive in it. Few seconds later, an arrow knocked that thing clean off the branch.” He grinned. “I had to go jump in a pond. Couldn't sit down properly for a week after, neither.”

“It does not surprise me that a dullard such as yourself would be easily ensnared by a cipher's parlor trick.” Concelhaut rolled his flames. “Mindhunters,” he huffed in disgust. “What an inappropriately overwrought title for those Glanfathan savages who practice that feral excuse for magic.”

Edér hummed in consideration as he hugged the pile of straw together and shaped it into disc. “Well, I dunno 'bout that. I think it's fun when Serafen goes mindhuntin' and guesses my thoughts.”

“What, precisely, is there to guess?” Concelhaut twisted to face Edér. “You are all field and no crops, farmer! One does not need the proclivities of that mangy, orlan guttersnipe to deduce that obvious fact,” he said, snorting. “And when I have fingers again, I will fashion that hirsute cockalorum into a rug for my washroom, right after I pluck each and every feather from that dour, grumbling bird-woman to stuff my bed pillows.”

Edér fluffed the blanket over the straw bed, then patted the middle.

“All yours, buddy,” he said, flashing his favorite little skull a smile. “It ain't as soft as that rug, or as fancy as that feather pillow, but it should be comfy enough.”

“By the degenerate standards of a Dyrwoodan mongrel, perhaps,” Concelhaut said, scowling at Edér. “Why don't you join your family and all your flea cousins and lie down in it yourself? Or, better yet, do that whimpering, foppish fussbuget a favor and push him into it, face-first preferably.” Concelhaut huffed again. “If that milksop represents what passes for a mage these days in the old empire, then it is no wonder they lost their little war to a bunch of inbred yokels and the pack of illiterate stone-worshippers a hill over.”

Shrugging, Edér sat on the floor by the newly-created bed.

“Guess I'm not as picky as you are when it comes to who's casting, long as they're casting lightning spells, anyway,” he said, leaning back against the wall to rest one of his arms on a bent knee. “Think that might be my favorite type of spell. Well, other'n that piggy one,” he added, grinning. “I've always liked the way you can feel the lightning 'fore it's cast, by the way all your hairs suddenly stand on end. And I like the way the bolts streak across a battle and leave that ghost of themselves behind, haunting the air between everybody for a few seconds. I also like that hot, sharp smell that lingers too. Makes my nose and throat burn a little. It's almost like breathing in a storm, y'know?”

As Edér glanced at him, Concelhaut jerked upright from where he'd tilted to the side, listening. He glared at Edér for a long moment, then abruptly spun away.

“Feh! Like breathing in a storm, you know,” he mocked. “You know nothing, farmer. Your barren mind could scarcely even begin to comprehend the arcane, much less appreciate its full and beautiful glory. You do not know magic. You cannot grasp any of its numerous intricacies. Beyond base superficiality, you will never understand it, not what it truly means, and neither will that long-eared, knock-kneed poltroon! In fact, it offends me that his soft hands are allowed anywhere near a grimoire!”

Concelhaut vibrated in agitation and began pacing so rapidly it almost made Edér dizzy to watch.

“When I am whole once more,” he spat, “I shall grant that pusillanimous mollycoddle the mercy of being adjacent to my wondrous, arcane world, but he will observe it all from a position befitting his mediocrity, one where he may finally contribute something of value to the field by serving his unmistakable superior!”

“Uh, serving how?”

Concelhaut shot across the room and stopped short of slamming right into Edér's face. Shadows danced over his rictus grin while his eyes flickered with malicious glee.

“I shall flay him into sheets of vellum and bind them together into the grimoire I will use to finally scribe those elusive spells of time manipulation. Then, once completed, he and every other mage on Eora, including the members of that despicable Circle, will be forced to bow and scrape and acknowledge, over and over as much as I please, that, short of the gods themselves, I, Concelhaut, am the most powerful creature alive and the only true and worthy master of the arcane realm!”

Bobbing gently, Concelhaut's gaze bore into Edér eyes, hard and expectantly.

Edér blinked.

Then raised an eyebrow.

“…So you're gonna make a whole grimoire, now?”

Concelhaut sputtered. “Th-that is the least important aspect of what I just said, you dim-eyed clodhopper!”

Edér shook his head as he reached for his pocket. “Well, I'm just sayin', you ain't exactly gonna get more'n a few pages outta Aloth, much less a whole grimoire.”

A long and seething noise of distaste whistled through Concelhaut's gritted teeth, then he soared away.

“Then I shall create more from that ample, Rauataian lickspittle! And if she does not suffice, I shall salvage an index out of that prattling, starry-eyed priestess!” Concelhaut shook in anger again, but he immediately spun around when the sound of Edér lighting his pipe echoed across the hold.

“Stop that!” he cried. “Stop that at once!”

“Stop what?” Edér asked from around the stem.

“The smoking, you imbecile!”

“Why?”

“Why? Why?!” Concelhaut sped towards Edér again. “Are your faculties truly so addled at this point that you cannot even recall the countless times I have already answered that inane question?”

Smoke leaked from Edér's lips, a slow and guilty trickle that ended in a billowing, choking cough as Concelhaut glared down at him sternly. Before he was forced to answer for himself, though, salvation rounded the corner of the alcove and meowed at him.

“Hey kitty,” he coughed, smiling. Then coughed again.

The cat darted towards Edér, her purrs rumbling with each step. When she reached his leg, she meowed again, then closed her eyes as she arched and began to rub against him. Edér cleared his throat and beamed down at her.

“Aww, who's the best kitty?” he asked, scratching her head.

Concelhaut glared at the animal. “The best at being an unsightly, imposing nuisance, perhaps.”  

“Oh, don't listen to him, sweetheart. He's just cranky 'cause he's tired.”

“If I am tired, it is only because I am exhausted by the burden of being in your general vicinity. And now you force me to endure the pain of experiencing you stunt your wits, yet again, while you coddle that failed science experiment!”

“He's jealous 'cause he doesn't have a cone,” Edér whispered, winking at the cat as he continued to pet her. She stepped onto his thigh, purring while she kneaded his leg, then jumped into the empty straw bed.

Concelhaut gasped sharply.

“Remove that creature from my bed immediately!”

Edér took a drag on his pipe and exhaled. “I thought you didn't even want it.”

“It does not matter whether I wanted it or not. It is mine now regardless—and I do not share! Remove that detestable creature at once!”

“No way,” Edér said, shaking his head. “She's too cute and there's plenty of room for the both of you.”

Quivering with fury, Concelhaut scowled at Edér then burst over to follow the cat as she circled the blanket. “Get out my bed, you impudent feline! Shoo! Shoo, I say!”

Animancy cat meowed in response, then rubbed against him.

Gasping again, Concelhaut recoiled in horror.

“How— How dare you!”

“Aww, she likes you!” Edér laughed and took another pull from his pipe. “Bet she'd even cuddle if you asked nicely.”

The former lich said nothing. He merely stared at the cat, watching as she kneaded circles in the center of his blanket on his bed, round and round, smaller and smaller while Edér puffed away, until she finally lay down in a coil and nestled into herself, purring in satisfaction.

“…When I regain my body,” he uttered quietly, a long moment later, “I shall find immense pleasure in ripping those tubes from your sides and kicking you from—”

Concelhaut never saw the mace coming until it smashed him into the floor.

“You speak one more word 'bout harming that sweet kitty and I'm gonna have to crush you completely, little skull.” Edér leaned his weight into the weapon for emphasis, pressing a squeak from Concelhaut's bones. “Now, I don't wanna have to do that, but I will if you make me. Are you gonna make me, or are you gonna behave yourself?”

A long and humiliating moment passed before Concelhaut spoke again.

“I…” Concelhaut started, then cringed. “I… I-I promise you I shall never harm the cat.”

Edér nodded once. “Good,” he said, then pulled his mace away. He inhaled from his pipe again.

Concelhaut floated upwards again, then whirled towards Edér.

“…But I never said anything about you!” he shouted, then hurled himself into Edér's forehead with a violent crack.

“Son of a bitch, little skull!”

As he bounced off Edér's face, Concelhaut cackled maniacally and zoomed away. Sucking air through his teeth, Edér groaned and gingerly touched the lump on his forehead. He shook his head, then pressed to his feet to follow his favorite little skull.

“When I catch up to you, I'm gonna put you in a time out!”

Notes:

Written for @pillarspromptsweekly #56, a random roll for Concelhaut, Edér & threats (which I initially misread as 'treats' …lol)

Bonus footage of Concelhaut