#but Tang pointing it out actually proved the show had more thought put into it than I'd realized

[sunshineandspencer]

Coffee dates (Iridescent, Part 3)

A/N: I don’t know how to enemies to lovers, why can’t we all just be friends. Again, I haven’t seen past season 10, I don’t know how it works or who is present so if there are mistakes you can blame showrunners for making me too nervous to keep watching <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Their last coffee date before finally getting back to the office, he’s bored and wants to find out what she’s been working on. 

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: swearing, spencer is an ass™

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt4

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

They’re getting close to the end of his probationary period now, and the thought of getting back to the office, and back to catching psychos was intoxicating.

Sure, she enjoyed his lectures, but not nearly enough to deal with him for longer than she had to.

There’s only one of his lectures left, and yet she still finds herself completing the last assignment he gave just like all the rest. It’s due today and mostly completed, but she just wanted to tweak a few things and add some more references. Working quietly next to him in the campus cafe as always.

He’s realised before, but now that his time was coming to a close, he was properly aware of the fact that she was always working. On all their little coffee dates - he refuses to call them that, and she only does it to piss him off - between their lectures, she’s always writing.

So far that’s been perfect, because he didn’t want to talk to her unless absolutely necessary, neither did she. The two of them avoid conversation like the plague and have silent coffee dates in his breaks.

However, he has no marking left, and finished his book, he is bored and wants to annoy her.

A quick text told him that it’s paid leave for her, which he didn’t know until now but makes the fact that she actually put up with him make sense, and means that she isn’t going over casework. He’s dying to know what it is.

When he sends her off for another round of coffee, he barely even waits for her to turn the corner towards the till to reach out and snatches the page she had been writing on.

Surprise turns him cold to find that it’s his work, set in the lectures that he expected his students to complete. Not only that, but he recognises the writing style, and she had been giving in work as someone called ‘Maisie’, lying about who she is.

Of all the people attending his lecture, he certainly didn’t expect her to do the work, much less under a different name.

Especially when the writing is so.. Good.

Maeve finally came back, sitting down and sliding his coffee across to him, not even batting an eye that he had her work in his hands. Sipping her coffee and feeling the immediate bitter tang of caffeine. Setting her own mug down and shrugging at his questioning tone.

“You’re completing the work I set?”

“Yeah.”

Part of him wondered if she would try to lie, wanting to determine what he could get from profiling her if she did. Expectedly, however, expected her to tell the truth, it’s definitely on brand for her. Suck up.

“Why?”

“I’m not allowed casework when I’m with you, in case you try to involve yourself.” Glaring at him, considering they had proved Emily right by inserting himself uninvited into her work the minute he got bored and she turned her back. Cons of working with profilers, he supposes. “I needed something to do or I would’ve gone crazy. Besides, I felt like you’d want someone completing the work because they enjoy the lecture, not because they think you’re pretty.”

He stared at her for a moment, really using all 187 points of his IQ to take in what she said, then shook his head. Placing the sheet back on the pile and picking up his coffee.

“My students don’t find me attractive.”

Honestly, he’s a little offended by the way she scoffed at him.

“The room is 80% women, they don’t even pay attention half the time, they just stare at you and your hands.” His hands? Now it just feels like she’s projecting, but she doesn’t stop talking yet. “One of them didn’t even complete your last assignment. She just handed in an A4 piece of paper with her number on, it was titled ‘Call Me’.”

He remembers, and he didn’t even look at it long enough to remember the number. The past minute of conversation feels like it shouldn’t be real. Blinking softly in confusion and trying to subtly glancing down from her to his hands and then back again.

Deciding to just hum softly, as if it wasn’t actually something new to him. Picking up his coffee to finally take a sip, irritatingly perfect - God he wished she didn’t try so hard.

“And you?”

“Me?”

“You’re a woman.”

Lifting her head, the look on her face was a picture. Feeling that, had he spoken in Dutch, he probably would’ve gotten the exact same facial expression.

“Am.. I supposed to congratulate you for correctly identifying that I’m a woman?”

He scowled over at her, and that’s a lot better. Their little coffee dates over the last 30 days had been spent mostly silent aside from snide comments and scowls, she wasn’t used to all this conversation from him. So getting him back to scowling again felt like progress.

Until he leant in, a smug grin settling on her face again that she was quickly coming to hate.

“No. But~ surely, if you’ve noticed them finding me attractive, doesn’t that mean you think I’m pretty as well? Hm, little assistant?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t even miss a beat.

“I’d rather make out with a pencil sharpener than you, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer couldn’t help the scowl on his face, even though he was still very smug on the inside. She so gets off on calling him that.

But she got up, and that startled him slightly, watching as she started to pack away her work into her bag. Eyes darting to his, meeting his scowl with a smug grin of her own for managing to get back at him again. Hoping, desperately, that he doesn’t notice that she didn’t actually answer his question.

“Your last lecture is starting soon, hurry up.”

Of course she thinks he’s pretty, but that doesn’t mean she likes him. And she certainly isn’t going to admit it to his face.

Want more?! Good!

[wonder-womans-ex]

One Word Answer

Luke won’t even try to deny it—he’s fighting back tears as he pushes the screen door open. The house is so silent he thinks it might be empty, and, quite honestly, that’s probably for the best. If he tries to talk to anyone right now, he actually is going to start crying. 

All he wants is to curl up on the Lupins’ sofa and think about whatever the fuck it was he did wrong; whatever he did to deserve this. 

But he has no such luck. 

The instant he enters the living room, he’s met by an onslaught of noise. There are streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the smiling faces of his friends—James, Remus, Sirius, Logan, Leo, Finn; he even thinks he might see Lily in the corner—are there to greet him. Remus approaches first, and presses a glass of champagne into his hands. 

He passes it right back, and the noise stills, and Remus’s face falls slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Obviously something’s wrong.” 

Luke sighs. “Just forget it.”

“What?”

“Forget it. Forget this.” He gestures around them, at the people, the decorations, the alcohol. “There’s no point.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Isn’t Remus supposed to be the smart one? Is he really going to make Luke say it? “He said no, Remus.”

If the room was quiet before, now it’s unbelievably so; painfully so. “He said no,” he says again, this time more to himself. 

He barely feels himself slump against the doorframe, sliding down to the floor with a slight thump. His head falls to the side, and he squeezes his eyes closed in one final attempt to stop the tears. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, though it feels, in a way, like he’s dreaming; he hears Remus’s voice, determined and far, far too loud: “Okay, everyone out. He needs… he needs.”

There follows the all-encompassing silence of a party ended too soon. Footsteps pass by him, going out into the hall, but Luke doesn’t have the energy to try to put gaits to faces and faces to names. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything but sit there and feel the uncomfortable warmth of his tears spill from his eyes and trail down his cheeks. 

“I’ll go,” he hears Sirius say, once there’s no one left but the three of them, “and talk to…” he trails off, perhaps not saying the name for fear of it killing Luke just a little more inside, but it does nothing to help. All he can think of is hazel eyes and blond curls and gold, gold, gold. 

And then it’s just them there: Luke, who needs to be comforted, and Remus, who hasn’t had to comfort him in so long that he’s forgotten how to—or maybe he never knew at all. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. 

“Don’t be.”

For the first time since it happened, Luke opens his fist. He opens his eyes, too, and he stares at the glint of metal. He bought the ring so long ago; he spent hours deliberating, trying to find the perfect one, and now it seems it doesn’t matter after all. 

“He said no,” he whispers again, and this time it feels, even to him, like he’s just trying to convince himself of that. He looks up, meeting Remus’s gaze, and he brings his knees up to his chest, curling himself into a ball, into a defense mechanism, and buries his face in his hands. “I love him.”

“I know.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t know!” This—this anger isn’t like him. Or, well, it is like him—it’s how he was before the treasure, when they were just Gods and Hollows. It’s how he was before Saint. 

He feels one of Remus’s hands grasp his, and he thinks of all the times they tried so hard to be in love. For years, they thought that it had to be each other; that they would never have anyone else. But it never worked out, because Remus needed Sirius—brave, easy Sirius—and Luke needed Saint. 

Saint who was harsh like ice and warm like sunlight. Saint who loved like he fought. 

Saint who said no. 

Gently, Remus pries the ring out of his hand. He hears the click as it’s set down on the floor beside them, and he lets himself be enveloped in the arms of the boy who was his only friend in the world for so very long. 

*

The apartment is empty when Luke gets back. The lights are off; the door is locked; Saint’s wallet is still on the counter here he left it. He wonders where Saint is. He wonders if Saint is going to come back. 

He wonders whether he wants him to. 

Well, that’s not quite right. Of course he wants Saint to come back. What he’s not so sure about is whether he wants Saint to acknowledge any of this. 

He’s been hurt in a way he didn’t know he could be hurt. He has his defenses—he always has—and he took them down for the boy who was somehow both wild dreams and harsh reality all at once. For the first time in his life, he saw he was falling in love, and he let himself. He had no idea that that love would ever—could ever—destroy him in the way it is now. 

Saint loves him. Luke knows this. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have pretended to, because while Saint is a good liar, he is not a happy one. He’s lived far too much of his life surrounded by half-truths, and he would never willingly do something that would hurt himself. 

Hurting other people, yes. But Saint is not self-destructive. He’s just reckless. 

Luke sets his keys down on the coffee table. He stares at the sofa—the sofa he and Saint bought together—and he clenches his jaw. His fist flies, practically of its own accord, into one of the couch cushions, and he feels his anger hit boiling point. 

Just as quickly, it cools. 

He’s not so much mad at Saint as he is mad at himself for wanting to be mad at Saint. He’s always known himself to be a paradox, and now, here, in the semi-darkness of the place he calls home, he finally understands that now is no exception. 

When he enters the bedroom, he reaches out blindly with one hand for the light switch. To an outsider, it would seem like nothing has changed at all, but in reality, Luke’s entire world has been flipped on its head. It feels like it, anyway. 

He goes through the motions. He brushes his teeth; he changes into his pajamas; but all the while he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice. 

Climbing into bed and smelling the briny tang of salt water that Saint always carries with him is what finally tips him off the edge. He becomes lost in the memory of this afternoon, and it’s like Crucio all over again; he’s drowning in the past and the present and the future—

“Do you recognize this place?” Luke asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Of course.” 

The sun shines off Saint’s hair, bright and beautiful, and Luke tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It’s natural—they’ve said it a hundred thousand times by now, and, as Luke squeezes the ring he’s holding, he hopes beyond hope they’ll be able to say it a hundred thousand more. 

“Saint?” 

When Saint turns around, his eyes go wide. Luke tries to keep his balance—his jeans are already damp at the knee from the still-dewy grass, and the faint warmth of the noonday sun does nothing to calm his nerves. His breath shakes; he almost drops the ring as he holds it out. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to smile. Inhale, exhale, he tells himself, and starts over again. 

“I think you know why I’ve brought you here, but I’m going to say it anyway. 

“This place, right here, is where we were when I finally fell in love with you. Sure, I’d been falling for a long time, but it was here that I hit rock bottom and realized I wanted to stay there.” 

Saint must know where this is going. There’s no way he doesn’t. But his expression is unreadable, and Luke has to force himself to look away in order to keep going. 

“I love you, Saint. I have for so long it scares me to think about and I will for the rest of time. You mean the world to me—I hope you know that. You are, without a doubt, my everything, and I want more than anything for you to remain my everything forever. 

“You’ve spent years without a last name that truly feels like home. What I’m offering now, what I’m laying my heart bear in the hopes of, is that you can take mine. Will you—” he swallows, finally focusing his gaze; finally meeting Saint’s eyes, “—will you marry me?”

It’s like time has forgotten where it was going before—or perhaps even that it was ever going anywhere at all. Luke waits, biting his lip and trying not to smile, for an answer.

Saint turns his head away; he’s looking at something in the distance. His fingers are twitching ever so slightly at his side, and Luke’s heart falters. 

“I’m sorry,” whispers Saint, still looking away, and Luke doesn’t need to hear any more. It’s as if someone has taken an axe to the very fibre of his being; his dreams of the future are being chipped away at in front of his very eyes. 

Luke clears his throat. “Right.” He stands up, and his leg hurts like a bitch from kneeling, but he won’t say anything. The last thing he can do right now is show weakness. The last thing he can do is prove to Saint that he, Luke Deveaux, isn’t worth it. 

“Wait,” Saint calls after him when he turns to go, but Luke isn’t listening. Of course Saint has his excuses, and, knowing Saint, they’re probably damn good ones, too, but he doesn’t want to hear them. Not now, when the chasm down the centre of his heart is still fresh and bleeding. Not now, when it hurts to take even a single step away from the man he loves, but he has to anyway. 

Maybe not ever. 

Luke isn’t asleep. He’s caught in the half-place—the place you go when you’re not there, not yet, but you aren’t quite here, either. So he feels the mattress dip beside him, and he feels the breath on the back of his neck, and he feels the hand curl protectively over his waist. He hears Saint say “I’m sorry,” in that quiet, desperately painful voice he has. 

“You’re not,” he says into the silence, and he waits. 

“I am,” Saint tells him. “I really am. I’m sorry I can’t want that. I’m sorry I can’t be that. I’m sorry I’m not enough.”

The last part is raw and full of emotion, and it would kill Luke completely if he was to say anything but “You are enough.”

“Not for you, I’m not.”

He still doesn’t turn over to face Saint—he’s not ready for that—but he lets himself relax slightly into his arms. “You are. You’re enough. You’re more than enough. Sometimes—sometimes I think you might be a little too much, actually.”

Saint’s other hand slots quietly over his. It makes his breath catch in his throat, but he can feel, in the thrum, the ever-constant ebb and flow of Saint’s very being, that it makes all of this so much easier. 

“What I wanted to say,” Saint starts—tentatively, as if he’s scared that at any moment Luke is going to decide he doesn’t want to hear it—“earlier today, is that I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted that. I’ve never wanted a wedding and a certificate and a house and a family and honey, I’m home. That’s… that’s not for me. 

“The way I see it, marriage is an anchor. It’s there to make sure you never stray. It’s a choice you make once, and it’s a choice that stays with you forever.”

Exactly, Luke thinks, but he says nothing. 

“What I want—what I’ve always wanted, I just never thought it was within any realm of possibility until I fell in love with you—is a hundred choices. I want freedom in the fact that there isn’t really freedom at all. I want two boats, floating freely, that always find their way back to each other. I want to wake up next to you every morning knowing that I could leave if I wanted to but make the choice not to. 

“And I know that’s not what you want. But I can’t make myself play happy families because the truth of it is that that isn’t me. I’m a wanderer. I want a reason to stay in one place, not a rule to keep me there. I’m sorry.” 

He can feel Saint’s mouth moving against the place where his spine meets the cords of his neck. He can feel Saint’s tears, but it’s okay, because he’s crying, too. 

“No.” His voice is far too loud for the weighted silence of the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried to make you choose between yourself and me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that I don’t want marriage; I want you. I want you in your entirety; I want you in your all-encompassing happiness. That’s all I want. I want what you can give me—nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, Luke turns over onto his back. Saint immediately tucks his face into the space between Luke’s shoulder and neck, and this, this feels right. 

“I love you,” Saint whispers. “I’ll always love you.”

“And I you.”

Saint laughs, a quiet noise that sounds like it’s half sob, as well. “And I tried to want that. I really did. At the wedding, I looked at you in that suit and I tried so hard to imagine if that was, well, us.”

“But you couldn’t.” As he says it, Luke presses a kiss to the crown of Saint’s head—the curls tickle his nose, and he closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself just be. 

“I couldn’t. And I thought that was okay, because I never even considered that you could love me enough to… to want that with me.”

Luke pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow and creating enough space between them for him to look Saint in the eyes. They haven’t properly looked at each other since this afternoon, but that particular shade of hazel is all Luke has been able to think about. “It has nothing to do with how much I want you,” he says, and then he realizes how that sounds. “Or, rather, it is no indicator of how much I want you. It’s like you said—marriage is like an anchor. Sure, I haven’t always wanted that anchor, but that doesn’t change the fact that, anchor or no, I’ve always known, somewhere, that I’ll never let us drift apart.”

There are a few moments where they simply stare at each other. Luke runs his tongue along the edges of his teeth, pressing it into the sharpness of his canines just to feel something. Then Saint smiles that half-smile of his—the one he only ever wears when he and Luke are alone—and reaches up to cup Luke’s cheek in his palm. 

“Fucking hell, Tweedle,” he says, in a soft, gentle voice that doesn’t at all match the words coming out of his mouth, “that might be the sappiest shit I’ve ever heard you say.” 

Luke rolls his eyes and grins. He leans down, brushing his mouth against Saint’s. Their lips are barely touching, but, even so, Luke feels himself smile into the kiss. He’s at home here. 

“You know,” Saint says later, when they’re simply lying in the dark, Luke’s head resting on Saint’s chest and one of Saint’s fingers tracing circles in Luke’s back, “there is one downside to the whole ‘not getting married’ plan.”

Luke wonders if he’s walking into a trap. “What’s that?”

“The last name thing.” 

“Mm hmm.” Luke yawns. “Saint Deveaux does have a nice ring to it.”

“That it does.”

There’s another minute or two of comfortable silence, before Luke speaks up again. “And the second thing?”

“The second—oh.” Saint waits half a second before, “No divorce jokes.”

Luke laughs despite himself, relishing in the way Saint’s chest moves as he laughs, too. Saint, he knows now, is his choice. Saint is everything. Saint is home.

Saint is forever. 

characters are by the incredible @lumosinlove

thanks to @im-oknutzy-trash for betaing

[skellebonez]

Monkie Kid Headcanons 3: Just Tang This Time

It’s been so long since I did one of these... I actually have more headcanons for Tang than I thought I did and while slightly lighter than the other posts they’re a bit more complicated in my feelings on them. Most of these have no backing in canon and are just from my brain going haywire, and are definitely subject to changing if season 2 gives them the boot.

Given the shots of him in the opening I believe he would be some kind of scholar, librarian, or both. I like scholar more but I headcanon both.

Like I said in my first post, he’s a descendant of a relative of Tripitaka. A very distant nephew at the closest, distant cousin at the farthest.

Tang has known Mei and MK longer than he has known Pigsy and had known Mei the longest out of everyone, if only by a little bit. He had no idea everyone knew each other until Mei and MK visited the library together as teens and then Pigsy described a couple of his regulars and realized “oh I know them, neat”.

He did his best to support MK on his trips to the library since he could see how much he wanted to learn despite how quiet he was as a child, and when he learned just how his parents were he took it upon himself to teach MK a lot of what he missed out on under their roof.

He can and will put the fear of death into anyone. When he is genuinely angry, not just regular angry but seething rage, he gets quiet and terrifying.

He is actually incredibly skilled in conversations in the exact right circumstances and has years of practice talking around people to lead them to the information he wants out of them at work. This is much less effective against demons who can see that he is terrified, however...

He was a very early regular customer of Pigsy’s Noodles and has eaten literally everything on the menu. He INVENTED some of the menu.

He can absolutely pay for his food, he just thinks it is infinitely more fun to tease Pigsy with no paying since they are so close.

I don’t care what the show says they live together until I am proven wrong. We all also know I ship them, they’re just. So damn close all the time. Either they’re together or they’re the closest friends I have ever seen.

Given how close he seems to be with Mei (rooting for her over the person he claimed to be a father figure to in a race? come on they have got to be close somehow) I believe he is either an actual relative of hers as well or a close family friend, but the later is more likely.

He could have met her parents through his job as a scholar, since they have so many artifacts and they are directly related to JTTW, which is his main line of study. And they were on extremely good terms when their relationship was strictly business related, so close that people thought he actually was a brother to one of them.

Then they asked him to finally meet Mei and he realized “OH this Mei and MK’s Mei are the same person I wasn’t just overthinking” things went kinda sideways.

While I think he was still on very good terms with and is in very good standing with Mei’s parents... it’s a bit more one sided on their part, unbeknownst to them. I don’t think he is fond of their parenting of Mei in the least and stays on good terms with them more so he can remain in Mei’s life as outside support since he knew MK cares a lot about her and he also wants her to thrive the way he sees her when on her bike racing or at the arcade. Deep down he is a bit bitter and jaded at this before the show, he is just extremely good at pushing it down for Mei’s sake.

He’s been slowly trying to push them toward being nice to Mei and it kinda worked a bit, slowly but surely.

At least until episode 3. He went full “fear of death quiet anger” after episode 3 if the above is the case in my book. That would have been his breaking point, hearing about how they changed their tune so fast when she got the sword. He was just that angry.

BUT until canon proves me wrong, I think that (as well as Mei’s shocked reaction to their acceptance and pride) was a wake up call for them to take a more active role in her life and to be much more understanding.

Like I said, until canon proves me wrong: Later on the three of them are actually on even better terms than they were before he met Mei since they are now taking an active (if very confused sometimes) interest in her hobbies and friends when they find time (they are still the Long family and have duties to fulfill that cannot be canceled, and Tang and Mei both understand that).

Please LMK let me have one story line where parents improve even a little. If you don’t give it to me with DBK and PIF let me have this one headcanon. MK’s parents don’t even exist on screen. Please. Let parents improve?

He is more of an Uncle figure to Mei than a father figure, but it’s a damn close margin, and her parents are absolutely accepting of this fact now.

This is super indulgent and silly and not connected to anything really, but I think Tang just... really really likes mystery and thriller movies. I don’t know why. It just feels like he would.

[master-thief-gray-shadow]

Earn It

Summary: With days before the district preliminary performance, Keke attempts to settle one more thing with Sumire.

Notes: So I just wrote a LL fic for the first time in almost 3 years. Figured I’d get one out eventually.

Three days until the district prelims. Three days until she would finally, finally be the center, the focus, the main attraction. Her heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute every second of the day. Every time she felt herself calm down a little she would imagine herself on that stage, in front of who even knows how many people, and she’d go dizzy all over again. It was overwhelming. She was exhausted, she’d barely slept because she just couldn’t seem to get her heart to stop racing. But she had never been happier to be so tired.

For what was probably the first time in her entire life, Sumire felt respected. At last, she wasn’t just some random stranger only good for a supporting role, she was finally recognized for her skill, her talent, and was finally going to shine. A part of her had given up on this. Show business was ruthless, and either you had what it takes or you didn’t, and while she certainly had something she had been starting to doubt if what she had really was what it took. But no, she knew now. She had what it took alright. Just took finding the right kind of stage for it.

In hindsight, perhaps she had been very foolish for doubting that she could be a school idol. Perhaps she had been a little too swept up in Ren’s then-dislike of school idols, perhaps, she realized, out of fear of being further ostracized. After all, the push for school idols was being helmed by a gutless coward and a loud, obnoxious, raving lunatic who seemed to take any pushback as an excuse to just be louder and obnoxious-er.

Of course she knew now that Kanon was anything but a coward. She was actually probably one of the bravest people Sumire had ever met. It took a lot of courage to face down obstacles even as your legs trembled the way she always seemed to. Sumire was honestly a little jealous of her, and it was that jealousy that had drawn her to the idol research club in the first place (or...well...maybe it was admiration. Sumire had trouble telling at times.) Kanon was nothing like her disastrous first impression had made her out to be. She was so much better, so much more worthy of respect.

Keke was also nothing like her first impression. She was, in fact, worse. Just such a stupid, delusional moron who did nothing but scream about school idols this, school idols that, and had standards that were high enough to have left orbit. Sumire could understand high standards and why someone would hold them, but Keke couldn’t even meet her own, a hypocrite if there ever was one. She’d been downtrodden and cast aside in favor of people who shone brighter for her entire life and for the first time Sumire actually felt genuinely superior to someone. She worked hard at what she did! She nurtured her talent, or what she had of it, and this girl who didn’t even comprehend that any kind of performance required, you know, actual work had the audacity to talk down to her! Even when Sumrie tried to play nice, give her the benefit of a doubt, Keke was nothing but rude and catty and seemed to jump through hoops to find any means of putting her down.

Why did Kanon put up with her? Why did any of the other club members put up with her? She was dead weight, a liability. A tiny, tiny part of Sumire wanted to throw the prelims, make Liella fall flat on their face, just so Keke would have to go back to China and she’d never have to see her or think about her again.

The sky was tinted orange as Sumrie left the school building, her feet already instinctually following the path to the shrine. Gods, she was tired, not just from the rigorous practice she’d just done but also because her nerves just wouldn’t let her rest. All she wanted right now was to lie down for a little while. She had the star power to nail that performance, sure, but star power meant nothing if she wasn’t well-rested. She was maybe five feet from the gate, almost to the sidewalk. Quickly approaching the threshold that meant she was well and truly on the way home.

“Hey! Hey Sumire! Wait!”

Sumire bristled as she recognized Keke’s voice. She had been sweet leading up to the performance. Not nearly as harsh or cruel. Almost kind. Too kind. Something about it made Sumire’s stomach turn. Oh, so now you see that I’m actually quite talented, and suddenly you want to be nice, is that it? Pathetic. Truly the mark of a weakling to start sucking up to someone once they prove themselves to be superior. If she really wanted to show some respect she’d just shut the hell up.

“What?” She glowered slightly as she looked back. Keke was surprisingly close, practically right behind her. At this distance it was easy to notice something...off about her stance. She seemed almost too rigid, too serious. Curiously, Sumire turned around fully to face the other girl. “I’m exhausted, so every second you delay me is a second I could be resting up for the live, you know.” She flipped her hair for good measure. Just so she wouldn’t seem too interested in why Keke had chased her down like this.

Keke was still and silent for a moment, her soft blue eyes staring straight into Sumire’s own. Sumire was starting to wonder if she’d just come here for a staring contest when she dropped onto all fours, her forehead pressed to the ground as she curled herself into a low bow.

“I’m sorry!” Keke wailed, a slight sniffle in her voice suggesting she was already past the verge of tears. “I’ve been so awful to you ever since you joined and I never even gave you a chance to prove yourself!”

Sumire’s jaw nearly hit the pavement. Okay, what the fuck? How the hell was she supposed to have prepared for something like this? All that practice ad-libbing and performing on the fly and here she was at a genuine loss for words. “You’re...sorry?

“I am!” Keke looked up at her, and as expected tears were running down her face. “And I’ve been thinking, and I realized that it’s my fault you didn’t realize your passion for school idols sooner!” She was on her knees now, her hands clasped in front of her as if praying. “I’ve been holding you back, Sumire. I’ll understand if you don’t have it in your heart to do so, but can you ever forgive me?”

Sumire gazed down at Keke’s face, streaked with tears and snot as she continued to cry. Disgusting. If someone was going to fake-cry to make a half-assed apology, she’d imagine it would look something like this. This was certainly how she would do it. But this was Keke. The girl was nothing but sincere and genuine every hour of every day, exhaustingly so. She wouldn’t lie if it was to save her life. She might not even grasp the concept of lies in the first place. If you told her the asphalt on the street was rock candy you could count on her running over to take a few bites. That would be funny, Sumire thought to herself. But it wouldn’t be very helpful in this situation.

“So you finally admit that I have the star power to carry Liella on my back, huh?” She folded her arms and laughed a little, her practiced, evil noblewoman’s laugh. She loved that one. “You come crawling back to me, the greatest in the galaxy, to beg for my forgiveness? Then beg!”

Keke did not beg. Instead her posture went limp, her head hanging low. She was silent, save for a few soft sobs, and Sumire was quickly overwhelmed by a growing sense that she had just really, really messed up.

“So,” Keke said, her voice quiet and hoarse, “you won’t forgive me?”

“I...” Sumire looked down at this crying, trembling shadow of Tang Keke. The girl who had been nothing but a pain this entire school year, the girl who had put her down so often and so flippantly. The girl who, deep down, was just as scared of losing her dream as she was. It wasn’t an excuse for anything, no. But Sumire supposed she’d done some things she didn’t have an excuse for, either.

“When we--when I win the preliminaries,” she said, her voice now much softer, but with just enough arrogance so as not to seem too soft, “then I’ll think about maybe forgiving you.”

“Really?” Keke leapt up and got right into Sumire’s face. Sumire did not need to see how red and puffy her eyes were at this level of close detail, she’d already gotten the point across. “You really mean it?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself!” Sumire said, pushing Keke off of her and flipping her hair again. “Remember, it’s only if we win.”

Keke stood straight, her expression now fierce and determined. Even through the mess on her face there was an undeniable fire to her aura. “Then I’ll work hard so we can win! I’ll earn your forgiveness, Sumire!”

“Hmph! We’ll see if that hard work pays off soon enough!” With one final flip of her hair, she spun around and resumed her route home.

She wasn’t ready to forgive Keke, not yet. But she supposed she had a few days to get there.

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch9)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Hey! So sorry for the delay, once again!! 

I've learned I really can't make any promises based on how fast I'll get these out XD But I have actually already started on the next chapter--in fact it's one I've been excited about for a long time, so I started on it a while ago--so that's a good sign at least, haha.

I'm very VERY excited to share this one with you!! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do!! 

I hope you guys like it!! As always, it's your comments, and interest, that keep me writing!! <3

@toms-wife Okay if I tag you??

If anyone else wants to be tagged on future chapters don’t hesitate to let me know!!

Chapter 9: On the Topic of Souls, and Other Such Oddities 

Snape marched towards the Headmaster’s office, his cloak swishing about his heels. It was the next morning after everything had happed, and he couldn’t say the little sleep he got left him feeling refreshed. Numerous meetings, and even more numerous questions have a way of making one altogether restless.

And, in the end…an innocent girl was dead. It isn’t easy to sleep after such news, even barring the politics of it all.

When he entered he got the feeling that Dumbledore had just been speaking with the portraits, as words trailed off, and Dumbledore, standing in the middle of the room, turned to him like he had been about to make a very good point. The portraits too looked down at him in—if he wasn’t mistaken—an annoyed way.

“Ah, Severus. Welcome. We were merely discussing if lemon drops or chocolate frogs are better. Theodore moved that chocolate frogs are more pleasingly sweet, but I think the best sweets have a bit of tang to them. Would you like to weigh in?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. The glare the portrait gave showed there was more than a small chance the matter they were discussing was something weightier than that.

When Snape didn’t comment, Dumbledore moved on;

“Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the chair in front of the desk. Snape reluctantly swept around and sat in it.

Dumbledore walked over to a side table with a strange contraption on it, which quickly revealed itself to be a sort of odd teapot, as he proceeded to pour the steaming liquid within it into a teacup. He retained his calm, pleasant demeanor, but Snape could tell the previous day weighed on him too: there was a slight shake to his motions, and his eyes held a heaviness that his smile couldn’t mask.

“Sir…would it not be better to do this another time?”

Dumbledore gave a knowing smile. “You’re not suggesting that I am getting old, are you?”

“No, merely that such news takes a toll on all of us.”

“Many things take a toll, Severus.” He gestured to the tea to ask if he wanted a cup, Snape gave a small nod. “It is if we decide to let that toll keep us from crossing the bridge that matters.”

The headmaster brought the two cups over and he took his place on the opposite side of the desk.

Snape paused before speaking. “I assume you have brought me here to discuss the sentence of the boy with the unspeakable name.” He took a sip of tea.

“You know what they say about assuming, Severus.” He lowered his glasses. “But in this case you are correct. And it’s not so unspeakable, in fact, I encourage you to call him by it.”

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Before I endeavor to divulge my carefully-laid plans,” Dumbledore spoke, putting a handful of sugar into his tea. “I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter: what do you think we ought to do with the young Tom Riddle?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“It’s the only kind of speaking I endorse.”

“I think we should dispose of him as soon as possible. He’s too dangerous, too clever. It’s inevitable that he’ll get his memory back even if we attempt to do everything in our power to shield him from it—perhaps before we so much as try.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” One of the portraits burst out and a few others nodded in agreement.

“Keeping him alive is like keeping a ticking time bomb as a pet,” Snape continued, “thinking a little love is enough to keep it from exploding. He’s nothing more than a liability.”

Snape’s dark eyes flicked to Dumbledore, who had been listening pleasantly, with his hands folded on the desk.

“But…”—Snape drew the kind of long breath one takes when they know they’ve lost the fight before it starts, and exhaled—“something tells me you disagree.”

Dumbledore smiled. “It seems you know me too well.”

“Sir…need I remind you of your meeting with him as a child? You once told me you wished you’d been more careful, more cautious, more discerning when dealing with him in the past.”

“Thank you, but my memory has not proven faulty just yet.”

“If that’s true then I also don’t need to remind you of the things I’ve seen him do first hand. Actions that do not make me partial to the idea of keeping him alive.”

“Quite the contrary, it is for that exact reason that I am trusting with this situation.” He paused, looking at him over his half moon spectacles and saying meaningfully. “You and no one else.”

“‘Trusting me with this situation’?” He drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“Is that not what you would call telling you all this?”

Snape said nothing, taking another sip of tea. That was true too, he was sure, though this was one of those moments in which he could tell Dumbledore meant something more than just that.

Dumbledore stood, walking over to the window as if he had all the time in the world, and he wanted to enjoy some sunlight.

“That boy is not Voldemort,” he murmured, taking a sip of tea.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Respectfully, Sir, I beg to disagree.”

“That boy is merely a young Tom Riddle: a teenager who looks like who Voldemort once was when he was young, and who has some of the personality of Tom riddle, and who, if given the right parameters, could become Voldemort. But he is not Voldemort now.”

“All he needs to become the Dark Lord again is to get his memory back, something which I do not think will prove altogether difficult.”

“Perhaps. But there is something else. After giving it careful consideration I find that my theory is sound.”

“What theory would this be?”

He paused, gathering his words. “It is my understanding that a door, once opened, can be walked through in either direction.”

Snape remained silent, waiting for him to tie the statement to their situation.

“What if I told you that our dear Ginny Weasley may not be dead?”

“I would say that is something we’d all like to hear, but that it would be wiser not to put your faith into fairy tales.”

“As I expected.” He turned, smiling. “However,” he began taking careful steps towards Snape, looking at his feet, “it is my personal inclination that the method by which he returned to the land of the living had a fatal flaw.”

“Which is?”

He looked up at him and stopped, saying meaningfully, “It required a young girl’s life.

“You see,” Dumbledore continued, “he will have assumed, of course, that her soul was destroyed in the process of bringing him back to life—her life merely energy to use up. But what if, as it were, he assumed wrongly? In my experience, human souls are far more resilient than that. What if, much like she poured herself into the diary, her soul was simply”—He took an extra teacup off the table—“poured into a new vessel:”—he poured the tea from his cup into the empty one—“The form of Tom Riddle himself.”

Pondering this for a moment, Snape looked away. As he did, Dumbledore returned to his seat once more.

Snape wanted to dismiss the theory right away, and intended to. However, the more Dumbledore explained it, and the more he thought about it…it wasn’t baseless. However—

“You are assuming a rather large amount with little to go on. We can’t base our decisions on a theory, especially one so far-fetched as the idea that the simple method of revival was enough for the soul of a young girl to persist.”

Far-fetched, perhaps…but then he thought of what he saw when he read the boy’s mind yesterday. The wall in his head. How there seemed to be something trapped behind it. Something alive.

“No, but we can let theories inform our decisions. If there is that chance, do you not think it worth exploring?”

“Are you proposing we let the young Dark Lord live on the very small chance we can salvage her soul from the brink? Or else that her presence within his soul will cause him to …what? Grow a heart? Forgive me but that sounds like a hopeless endeavor. Lamentable as the situation may be, we can’t sacrifice all of wizardkind for the soul of one little girl.”

Dumbledore sighed, and there was a heaviness to it. “No. I am afraid that it is unlikely the poor Ginny would be able to return to her original state. I am unsure if her soul is even fully intact. Or, further still, she may not be entirely aware of her current predicament herself either. When speaking of souls, it’s difficult to discern where consciousness resides. It would be unwise, however, to dismiss any of these options entirely either. Rather I am proposing that the presence of her soul is a variable with unprecedented possible outcomes.”

“This is the Dark Lord we’re talking about. I don’t think one little girl’s presence—be it within his soul itself—is going to make much difference.”

Dumbledore smiled. “You of all people should know it is unwise underestimate the influence of one little girl.”

Snape’s eyes widened, unable to keep himself from reacting to that. He turned his head away.

“The Dark Lord is incapable of love, of human emotion,” Snape muttered softly.

“Perhaps. However, personally I like to refrain from making such bold statements about even the cruelest of men. But, even so, it is for precise reasons such as those why I believe the simple presence of someone who is capable of love, of human emotion, within his soul, could make all the difference. As long as there is more holy water than plain, the whole vat becomes holy.”

Snape sighed, looking away. “It is a gargantuan risk for something that is nothing more than an educated hypothesis. What if you’re wrong?”

“Then I will face the consequences.”

“Then we all will face the consequences. Those consequences could easily be the destruction of all of either wizard or muggle-kind—or both. What would you do then?”

Dumbledore sighed. “You seem to be rather caught up in that.”

“I’m more surprised to find that you’re not. Unless there is some way to guarantee he won’t repeat his past sins, then I cannot entertain the thought of keeping him alive.”

“I think we may be able to work something out.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t some misguided journey to erase your past sins, is it?”

“No.” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. “It’s a misguided journey to try to erase his.”

“Think for a moment! If you are wrong, is there any reason you have to keep the Dark Lord alive, if not for the thought that perhaps Ginny Weasley yet lives within his soul? Any at all?”

“Oh yes, several in fact.”

Another eyebrow raise.

Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk. “I think you are underestimating the gravity of the opportunity we have been given. An opportunity which I do not believe will present itself again. We have been handed a young Tom Riddle—without memory, no less. Tom Riddle, who has yet to commit the crimes of his previous self.”

“Tom Riddle, who already exhibited little to no regard for others’ well-being! He felt no compassion upon seeing a corpse!” Anger reached his voice, he was very close to slamming his fist on the table.

“Yet he has hurt no one.”

“He’s only been around for a day.”

“A day which Voldemort could have easily spent hurting and killing as many people as he wished.”

Snape looked away. “One amnesic day does not determine the capacity of a life.”

“No, you are correct about that. But…try to imagine for a moment. Do you understand what kind of asset it would be if we were able to get a young Tom Riddle to come over to our side? If we could save him from becoming who he once was…it could save us all.”

“You’ve made this mistake before.”

“I’ve made this decision before. My mistake was in the fact that I did not realize just how much evil such a young boy was capable of. I know now what that boy could become—and already has once—and that it will take much more than a watchful eye to save him from the darkness lurking in his own heart.”

“Do you realize just how easy it would be for him to fall back into that darkness?”

“Which is why I want to keep him alive. To try to prevent him from making the mistakes of his past self. The key difference here, is that there is a chance he has light in him now, in the form of Ginny. If that’s true, we need only water that seed.”

“You don’t know that there’s light in him!” Snape stood abruptly sweeping around resting his hands the back of his chair.” At best that’s an informed hunch! Are you really willing to base such an important decision on that?! The only way to guarantee he won’t make the mistakes of his past self is to prevent him from making any decisions at all!

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Snape blinked. “Is that all this is to you? A bit of fun?” He spat.

“Of course not.” His smile dropped at last, along with his eyes to the desk. “A young girl’s life has been lost. I’d prefer not to lose another.”

“Even if that other life is the life of the Dark Lord?”

“It is not the life of the Dark Lord.” He traced his finger along the rim of his teacup. “It is the life of the young Tom Riddle, who is entirely unaware of the crimes of his previous self—or anything much at all. He has shown no immediate inclinations to harm others, even if he is a bit insensitive. Forgive me, but I do not think it right to simply dispose of him.

“There is another thought that gives me unease as well.” Dumbledore seemed unsure he wanted to say it aloud. He folded his hands and looked at down. “If it turns out that my theory is correct, and Ginny isn’t dead after all…if we decide to dispose of him now, we, and not he, will be the ones who killed her.” The words were altogether too soft.

Snape ran his hand through his hair. “So what do you propose we do with him? Keeping the young Dark Lord alive, and a secret, will be much more difficult than simply killing him.”

“Oh I’m not denying that. If all goes according to plan, there are a number of portraits and other such lingering spirits we will have to inform of the situation.” He eyed the portraits, which folded their arms, harrumphed and looked away.

“And you’re actually proposing that we teach him magic? To the point where, when he does remember who he is, he’ll have the means at his disposal to destroy us all?”

“If we don’t teach him magic, if and when he regains his memory, do you not think he would seek out those means on his own anyways? At least this way we’re teaching him in a controlled environment, where we know where he is, and how much he knows at any given time—not to mention we can decide how much caution to exercise in the smaller details of the situation.”

“Even so…we can’t place a sixteen-year old who knows nothing of magic in first year classes.”

“Nor am I proposing that we do so. I intend to have someone teach—or remind, rather; I think he will be quick to pick it back up—of the basics over the summer. It may not be an easy task to get permission from the ministry to allow a boy under seventeen to do magic over the summer, but I think I may be able to come up with something. Either that, or we may be able to hope they assume the one doing the magic is the wizard who already lives in the house.”

“You’ve told me he has a penchant for flattery that caused many teachers to let their guard down around him. I don’t think I have to tell you why I don’t think it wise to have just any wizard teach the young Dark Lord.”

“I fear you underestimate me, Severus. You really think I would choose just any wizard teach to him? In fact—if you’ll permit my saying—he’ll have a teacher who is rather stern, and won’t find himself so easily swayed by flattery.”

“And who is the lucky contestant?”

Dumbledore gave him a look strangely similar to the smirk of a mischievous schoolboy, running his fingers along his wand.

“I did tell you I was trusting you with the situation, did I not?”

Snape’s eyes widened. He took a step back as if he’d been physically hit.

“No.”

“You asked me if I was proposing that we teach him magic,” Dumbledore elaborated, “and, for the summer at least…Actually I’m proposing that you teach him magic.”

Snape rarely found himself struck dumb but in that moment he was at a loss for both words and actions. For a moment he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t been placed under a powerful confundus charm.

“During the school year, of course, he’ll learn here.” Dumbledore continued. “That is, if aforementioned summer goes smoothly.”

Snape blinked, shook his head, as if trying to remove a wrackspurt. The only thing he could ask was:

“Why me?”

Dumbledore frowned. “I thought I’d made that rather obvious. Because—as you so well proved over the past few moments—no matter how kind, how flattering, how clever, he appears, you will always keep in mind who and what he is. And, if he shows any signs of becoming his past self—or future self, as it were—you will not hesitate to do what is necessary.”

“Is there a reason you can’t do this, Sir?”

“Oh, I’m an old sap, Severus. For all we know I might grow attached to the boy.”

“And you want me to…what?” He spat. “Invite him cordially to stay in my home,” He held out a hand and bowed, “feed him, coddle him, tell him what a good little boy he is,”—he clapped his hands—“all the while teaching him all sorts of dangerous spells?!”

“No. I will inform him of the situation. Then after that I am suggesting you take him to your house—you don’t have to be too terribly cheerful about it, merely as amicable as you are able—feed him, provide him a place to stay over the summer. I’m not suggesting you coddle him—though kindness is a virtue—rather give him both praise and criticism, and each in moderation. That you teach him the basics of magic, and the spells you think would be useful, but not terribly dangerous. I trust your judgment there wholeheartedly.”

Snape stared at a speck of dirt on the ground as if that could tether him to this moment, breath weighing heavy on his chest, his mind splintering into fractals of thoughts. How could Dumbledore possibly expect this of him?

“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. “Oh!” He held up a finger. “Yes. Harry will be staying with you as well.”

Snape jerked his head to look at him, and this time couldn’t hold back:

“WHAT?!”

“I’ll admit, it’s a bit—the poor boy has been through a lot, he won’t be fond of the idea—but I think it’s important that he and the young Tom Riddle become…Well let’s put it this way, I don’t think Harry giving him hateful glares in the hallways at school will help the situation. Currently both he and you seem to have more than enough of those to spare.”

“Oh yes, and forcing us all to live together will certainly solve that problem!”

“While it’s true that living with someone can indeed increase one’s distaste…I do find that living with someone forces you to build a bond of some sort with them, and sympathize with them, in ways you would never have otherwise.”

“You’re asking the three people in this school who have the greatest distaste for each other to spend three months in a confined space!” He spat. “Not only do I think the boy would likely kill one of us before the summer is over, I’d be surprised if we don’t all end up killing each other halfway through June!”

“Or…perhaps the three of you will come to a new understanding about each other.” Dumbledore was as calm as ever. Snape wanted to wipe that smug look of his face.

“I don’t see than happening any time soon.”

“You might be surprised.”

Snape leaned against a pillar, running his hand over his face. He knew from the beginning that he wasn’t going to win this argument, but this was more than a loss, it felt like a slap in the face.

“Don’t you understand?” Dumbledore resumed his previous argument. “Tom Riddle never had a single friend—even at this age his ‘friends’ were all merely supporters and worshippers. If he and the boy destined to destroy him—who will most certainly neither blindly worship nor support him—were to become something even remotely close to friends it could make all the difference. And I think Harry is the only one who can truly change him.”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t make friends. Even without memory I don’t believe he’ll have any inclinations to form attachments—especially not to someone like Potter. He himself said he feels hatred at the sound of Potter’s name.”

“Need I remind you once more this is not the Dark Lord we’re speaking of? Memoryless, and with the presence of Ginny inside him—who already has an affinity for Harry—I think there is at least some chance his opinions on Harry, as well as concepts such as friendship itself may change. He did mention that he hates the sound of Harry’s name, as well as mine, yes. However, when I asked him if it made him sad that he had no friends, for a brief second he said yes.”

“He corrected himself immediately afterwards.”

“In all my years teaching the boy, I never saw a single moment’s hesitation, especially on a question like that.”

Snape let out a breath.

“Doesn’t Potter need to stay with his aunt and uncle?” Snape rubbed his temple, feeling defeated, voice breathy, “His mother’s protection—”

“Oh he will stay with his aunt and uncle at first, still. However, I was discussing it with the portraits, and considering the strange situation, I find the rules may be a little different, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, have him live with the Dark Lord! That will keep him very safe!” Snape sighed, slumping in his chair once again, holding his head in his hand.

“It is not one of my safest ideas, I’ll admit. But you’ll be there, of course. And you haven’t given me reason to doubt that you’re up to the task of protecting him, should the need arise.”

“You expect too much of me. There is only so much I can do.”

“It is true you can only be so many places at once. But if I did not think you were capable of accomplishing such a task, I would not ask in the first place.”

“This is lunacy,” he breathed into his hand.

“I hope I haven’t fallen prey to madness just yet. But I will not rule out the possibility.”

Dumbledore paused, standing back up and walking around the desk. “I understand if you need more time to mull it over. I often find after jarring news a walk and a good bottle of mead do wonders.”

“I only have one guest room, Sir,” Snape muttered.

“Harry can sleep on the couch.” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “He’s very small, I’m sure you’ll barely notice him.”

Snape glared at him through his fingers. “…I think I’ll notice him.”

“You haven’t answered my most pressing concern. What’s to say the boy won’t get up and kill us both in our sleep?”

“…That doesn’t sound much like Harry at all.”

“The other one.”

“We will need to discuss what protections we should put in place, certainly. But you and I are both very smart, very skilled wizards. It would be disappointing if, putting our heads together, we are unable to come up with something.”

There was a long moment of silence. Snape put his hand in his hair, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and had gone wrong before…or at least just how much annoyance such a living situation would provide, even if there was no real danger. No matter how much chaos may occur over the school years, his summers at least had always been quiet.

His next words were soft, but thick with emotion. “I don’t think it wise for him to live with me, Sir. I don’t think I could ever feel any kindness towards the man who killed her.”

“But,” Dumbledore’s voice was as gentle as a moth’s wing beat, no annoyance or exasperation in his tone at the fact that he had to keep repeating himself, “he is not the man that killed her. Not yet. And you have the unique chance of saving him from becoming that man.”

“Not a chance that could save her.”

“No, you’re right, that chance has long since passed. But you can save hundreds of other men and women just as kind as her.”

“No one is as kind as her.”

Dumbledore knelt down beside him, putting his hand on his arm, a certain twinkle in his eyes. “If you give it a chance…I think you may just find that Harry is.”

[hedwigstalons]

Reunion

Something soft for @gumnut-logic‘s Fluffember.  There is no way I’ll be able to do 30 separate fics but this kinda covers ‘reassure’, ‘special person’, ‘together’ and ‘bedtime’.  

It’s not edited or polished but I wanted to get something out before inspiration abandoned me again.

xoxoxox

Brandon closed the holocall and slumped back on the couch with a contented sigh.  Three months.  Three long and agonising months in close quarters with the Lemaires for work meant that not only had seeing Alan been out of the question, their calls had been distinctly censored.  Or rather the calls had been more guarded after the one attempt at being, ahem, intimate, that Madeline had walked in on.  He still cringed at the memory.  Nope, calls had been kept distinctly more bland after that incident.  

He’d seized on the chance to talk freely the moment he had got home, not even stopping to unpack, and now he was exhausted.  A wave of tiredness swept over Brandon, post travel fatigue mixed with the comfortable glow that came from talking to Alan and being back in his own territory.  The sighs turned to a yawn which in turn gave way to gentle snores.  Barely an hour later he was startled from his nap by a loud and insistent knocking at the door.

***

Alan turned up the track, feeling the road beneath the car getting bumpier and bumpier.  While he was grateful to Parker for the lessons that enabled him to make this journey solo, his education in driving had been rather lacking in how to choose an appropriate car; the sleek, red sports car, which had looked perfect on the hire yard forecourt, now felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with the worsening terrain.

He checked and rechecked the address that Brandon had given him, wondering if he had taken a wrong turn but everything tallied up.  The bachs that lined the lane at intervals were mostly in darkness, as would be expected for holiday homes out of season, and he struggled to imagine Brandon actually living in one of the small cabins.  The one ahead of him, however, showed signs of occupation, a muted light shining out through the glass in the door.  He turned into the empty parking spot next to the cabin and killed the engine.

Grabbing his duffel off the passenger seat, the car seemingly lacking a trunk, Alan steeled himself and headed towards the front door.  He paused on the step, taking in deep breaths of the air that held the unmistakable tang of snow as it blew down from the nearby mountain.  It had felt such a good idea at the time, rushing off to New Zealand the second he closed the call with Brandon, but now he was here he wondered if he was coming across as too needy, too forward.  Perhaps he should have waited until morning.  

Scott had pencilled in two days off rota the moment Alan had gone to him with Brandon’s return date, two days that he hadn’t dared tell his boyfriend about in case the world conspired against them and ripped that precious time away in a whirlwind of rescues.  But for once the world had been obliging and so here he was, bag in hand, about to surprise the man who had barely left his thoughts during their enforced separation.  Too late for doubts now, he was here.  One more deep breath and he rapped on the door with rather more confidence than he felt.

***

The knocking, loud and unexpected, had Brandon nearly rolling off the couch at the intrusion.  Rubbing his eyes he checked the time wondering who the hell could be calling on him at this time of night.  It was probably just some lost holiday maker, struggling to find which rental was theirs in the dark and seeking help from the nearest cabin that looked occupied.  It wouldn’t be the first time he had had to direct someone further up or back down the track depending on which cabin number they had failed to find.  He was almost an unofficial warden for the lane being it’s only permanent resident, not that he was there much of the time himself as this latest work trip had proved.  

Brandon hauled himself to his feet, preparing to point the way to whichever lost soul had found his bach this time.  He shambled down the hallway, stretching the kinks out as he went, his eyes still bleary as he unlatched the door.  He blinked sleepily, his brain not fully registering the sight.

***

From his place on the step Alan could see the familiar silhouette making its way down the hallway.  Nervous excitement fluttered in his stomach as he waited for Brandon to open up.  The butterflies intensified at the sound of the lock being opened.  Moments later there he was, the ginger curls all mussed up and, Alan noticed guiltily, yawning and rubbing his eyes in a way that suggested he’d just woken up.  

“Hey,” Alan greeted Brandon, smiling sheepishly.

“Alan?”  Brandon steadied himself on the doorframe, exhaustion still keeping tight hold on his body.

“Yeah, uh, can I come in?”  New Zealand was far colder than the island and Alan was feeling to temperature drop keenly, it probably didn’t help that he was still only in a t-shirt.  Seeing Brandon completely thrown for a loop had him seriously doubting the wisdom of his actions.  

“Oh God, yeah,” Brandon stepped to one side to let Alan in, the reality finally sinking in that Alan really was there on his front step, “I just wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I said I’d come as soon as I could,” Alan mumbled in explanation as he followed Brandon up the hallway and towards the lit room at the back of the cabin.

This was the first time that Alan had visited his home, it normally making far more sense for him to go to the island, and Brandon was suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how far removed it was from the opulence of Alan’s usual surroundings.  Even on a good day the cabin was pretty shabby and the whole four roomed building could easily fit inside the lounge of the Tracy villa.  Now, after three months of sitting empty the bach smelled musty and in need of a good airing, there was also a damp chill in the air which suggested the roof might have sprung a leak somewhere.  He had been meaning to spruce the place up a bit before Alan arrived, expecting him in the morning at the earliest; he hadn’t counted on the Tracy definition of ‘soon’ applying to vacation time as well.

Alan followed Brandon into the lounge area and dropped his bag on the floor, noting that his wasn’t the only case in the corner of the room.  He was really starting to regret heading over so quickly especially seeing as Brandon hadn’t even looked him in the eye since inviting him in, in fact he hadn’t even turned to face him since they reached the lounge.

Brandon scratched the back of his neck.  He’d been foolish to invite Alan to stay.  How could his little cabin compare to Tracy Island?  He felt the overwhelming need to explain.

“So, welcome to Casa Berrenger.  On the flanks of what has to be the greatest mountain in the world.”  He gesticulated at blinds that were closed across the picture window.  “I mean, I saw this place and thought ‘Hey Brandon, what could be cooler than having Ruapehu as your neighbour’.  You might have seen it, in some of my vlogs...”

“Brandon…”

“I filmed the very first one right on the slopes out there.  It was, like, totally awesome.  It’s still my favourite place to board, hence the cabin.  You should come stay when the snow’s right and I can take you on out the slopes, that would be, like, amazing...”

“Brandon…”  Alan hadn’t heard Brandon this babbling since he’d helped pluck him off a mountain following an avalanche.  Back then he’d initially taken Brandon’s non-stop chatter to be part of his natural exuberance but as he got to know him more he learnt that it was more a sign of nerves, a cover for the insecurities he kept hidden from the viewers.

“Except you’ve probably been there, right?  I mean, you’ve been everywhere.  But yeah, this little place isn’t much to look at now but in the morning when you can see her,” he waved vaguely at the shut blinds again, “man, the views more than make up for…”

“BRANDON!”

Brandon couldn’t put it off any longer.  He turned, hardly daring to meet Alan’s eyes which he was sure would show some sort of contempt at the small space with it’s meagre and mismatched furnishings.

Alan reached out and gently took hold of Brandon’s hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of it. “I don’t care where you live.  I didn’t come here to see the mountain.  I came because I wanted to see you...because I’ve missed you.”

Brandon looked up to see only warmth and softness in Alan’s gaze.  He closed the small gap between them, melting into the embrace as he rested his chin on Alan’s shoulder and felt a fool for worrying that Alan would be so shallow as to judge him on his home.  Despite their riches the Tracy family had never shown any signs of looking down on those who had less than them but he’d hardly ever let anyone cross the threshold of his little mountain sanctuary and it left him feeling vulnerable.

“I missed you too, three months is far too long,” he sighed as he gently planted a kiss on the warm neck.  Feeling the arms around him pull him in that bit closer he raised his head again so see a need darkening Alan’s eyes, a need that he felt mirrored in himself.  “Y’know, I was just off to bed when you got here.”

Alan quirked an eyebrow, knowing full well that Brandon had already been asleep despite being still fully clothed.  “Now that sounds like a nice idea, I could probably do with turning in too,” he yawned, “you aren’t the only one that’s been travelling, ‘cept I’ve been working too.”

“Uh, one slight problem,” Brandon smirked.  “This place isn’t as large as yours and, uh, there’s no guest room.  D’you think Virgil would have a problem with that?” he asked, referring to the rules laid down when they first hooked up which meant he always had a guest room available on the island, even if he never used it.

Alan cocked his head to one side as though giving the issue some serious consideration.  “Oh, I think we’ll find a way to manage.”  The lust in his eyes deepened as Brandon pulled away and led them back up the hallway towards the bedroom.

“Well then, I think it’s bedtime.”

[thdorkmagnet]

Light of the Sun and Stars Chapter 42: Cooking With Kelly

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: The annual Mewni Bake-Off is about to begin and Kelly is excited and nervous to be representing her restaurant this year. Needing help she asks Star and Marco for assistance in the competition and Tom comes to help out too, much to Kelly’s dismay. And to make matters worse one of the other competitors seemed determined to ruin Kelly’s chances at winning, no matter the cost.

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Index

Previous Chapter>>

Next Chapter>>

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. All rights go to them.

Kelly sucked in a deep breath, trying to rid herself of the nervous energy she felt building up in her chest. Her fingers tapped impatiently against her leg as she scanned the crowded streets, looking for any signs of her friends. Today was the big day. The Annual Mewni Bake-Off was about to begin and so far Star and Marco were no shows, Kelly unsure if they were just running late or possibly had forgotten, although that last one seemed unlikely. Come on guys, this is not what I need today, Kelly thought glumly, feeling her anxiety spike again. She really needed some support right now. Although she had felt calm and ready during the time leading up to the bake-off now that the day had actually arrived, doubt had started creeping into her mind, her nerves making it incredibly difficult for her to relax.

She cast a quick glance over to Tad from the stands, her boyfriend sadly having to sit out the competition since he wasn't a chef and he gave her an encouraging smile, yelling something to her that sadly was drowned out in the noisy crowd around him. Kelly put a hand to her chest, trying to relax her nerves to no avail. It was bad enough she was struggling with self-doubt but not having Tad with her made her feel incomplete, like a part of her was missing and that only made her feel more stressed and anxious.

And to top it all off, Roy had made it very clear to her what would happen should she fail this competition, his horrifying use of the terms “dish maid and underpaid waitress” enough to give Kelly nightmares. She had to win this competition or her dreams of being a world-famous chef would be all but impossible. Kelly tried not to let those thoughts crush her, reminding herself of her resolve.

She was going to show Roy exactly what she was made of, she was going to help Fang Tangs reach new heights of popularity even if it killed her. Fang Tangs had never won the competition before, mostly going unnoticed to the bigger and better bakers on the roster, but Kelly was not gonna let that stand. Now was her chance to prove what she was made of!

But those dreams would be all but dashed if her sous-chefs didn't get there soon.

Right on cue, she heard the familiar voice of Marco call behind her, “Hey Kelly!”

The green-haired girl turned with a relieved grin as she saw Marco and Star approaching, the two dressed in cute chef outfits. “Thank goodness you two made it!” Kelly exclaimed, her tone slightly panic-filled. “I was starting to worry you wouldn't show.”

“Sorry,” Marco said, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, Star giving the girl an apologetic grin. “Hope we didn't worry you too bad.”

Kelly shook her head. “Nah, so long as you're here, that's all I care about,” the Woolett told her friends with a bright grin.

“Well you can count on us, Kelly,” Star said, doing a little salute, Marco doing the same. “We're here to help!”

“Thanks, I really appreciate the support,” Kelly replied, before letting out a soothing breath. “To be honest, I've been feeling a little freaked out about this. Roy said if I fail I can kiss my role as chef goodbye.”

“That's not gonna happen, Kelly,” Marco said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. “Because so long as the four of us work together we're gonna win this thing!”

The girl felt a flood of relief wash over her at that, Marco’s confidence helping to restore some of her own. “Thanks, Marco, I-” Kelly began, only to stop mid-sentence as she processed what Marco had said. “Wait, what did you mean by four?” the green-haired girl asked, a suspicious eyebrow slowly raising.

“Oh we invited Tom to help out, too,” Star explained.

“You did what?!” Kelly exclaimed.

The two flinched at the raised tone, Marco saying in a soft, unsure tone, “We, uhh, just thought maybe he could help.”

“How?” Kelly asked, in disbelief.

“Well it is a really complicated recipe, Kelly,” Star tried. “We just thought an extra pair of hands could be useful.”

“Yeah, but you could've at least told me about it,” Kelly muttered bitterly, crossing her hands in front of her chest.

“Sorry, we didn't think you'd mind,” Marco said with an apologetic look.

“Plus, it just kinda happened,” Star added. “We mentioned the competition to him this morning and Tom offered to lend us all a hand, so we said yes.”

“Well, where is he then?” Kelly asked, with a skeptical frown.

“Tom's usually late for stuff,” Star explained. “He'll be here.”

“Does he even know how to cook?” the Woolett questioned, an eyebrow slowly raising.

“Oh, totally!” Marco said with a confident smile. “He said he's been baking since he was a little kid.”

Kelly looked back and forth between the two for a moment, seeing their eager and begging faces and knew there was no point in arguing. It was impossible to resist those two's charms. “Okay, fine. He can help,” the Woolett declared and Star and Marco cheered, high-fiving in victory. “But he better not get in the way and he has to follow orders, got it.”

Star and Marco nodded. “Thank Kelly!” Marco exclaimed, giving the girl a quick hug, Star joining in, too. “I promise you won't regret it.”

Kelly gave a small grunt in reply. She really hoped that was true and that she wasn't making a terrible mistake. But she supposed for once, she'd just have to trust her friends. They were helping her out of the kindness of their own hearts, after all. The least she could do was hear them out. She pushed the two away before saying in a commanding tone, “Now, let's go get our area set up, the competition starts soon.”

“Yes, ma'am!” Star and Marco said simultaneously, saluting their chef with goofy but enduring looks and Kelly couldn't help but giggle.

“At ease, soldiers,” she joked with the smallest hint of a smirk on her face, her friends succeeding in crushing the fears and doubts within her.

…

The center of town was a hectic mess of people, rows of seats now surrounded the square, Mewmans and creatures from many dimensions all sitting to watch the competition take place. In the middle were little miniature kitchens for the designated contestants, complete with all the essentials needed to prepare each dish, made to perfectly suit each chef's unique style. Although most contestants were Mewmans, Marco could spot many different species present, some he didn't even recognize. He couldn't help but gawk at every new face he saw as well as admire the cooking utensils which were completely unknown to him, the red clad teen left to guess what they could possibly be used for, pointing them out to Star whenever he could.

Star as well seemed curious about the other contestants, sometimes even staring in wonder along with her boyfriend, the two letting out quiet and simultaneous “oohs”. Kelly, on the other hand, didn't seem as impressed, her face set in a firm line as she led her two helpers over to their spot.

“Wow, can't believe how many people showed up this year,” Star commented, her hands behind her back, an almost skip in her step.

“Is it not like this usually?” Marco asked, his interest clearly piqued.

“Normally, no. But since the war ended, this year my parents thought it would be a good idea to allow contestants from other dimensions to compete instead of just from around Mewni,” Star explained to her boyfriend.

“Oh neat,” Marco said, a bright grin on his face.

“Not really,” Kelly spoke up, her voice devoid of emotion. “That just means we have all the more competition to beat.”

Star and Marco shared a look. “Well I mean, I hadn't thought of that,” the hooded teen mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Geez, Kelly. I know you wanna win but don't you think you're taking this a bit too far,” Star spoke up, putting a hand on her hip. “I mean everyone else just looks like they're having fun.”

Kelly stopped in her tracks, turning on her heels with a grim look. She leaned in close to the teens and whispered, “This is not a fun game. This is survival of the fittest. Don't let everyone's happy appearance fool you, none of these guys are our friends. You can't trust anyone, got it.”

Star and Marco both nodded dumbly, their eyes wide with fright. They had never seen Kelly so intense before and the couple could feel a shudder jumping up their spines. “Good, then stop admiring the competition, we gotta look professional.” With that, Kelly continued on ahead, Star and Marco following reluctantly after.

“Do you think any of that was true?” Marco asked his girlfriend, his voice shaking some in fear.

“It's okay, Marco. I'm sure Kelly's just exaggerating,” Star replied with a comforting smile.

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Marco said in relief.

“Oh hey Kelly,” a friendly boy said, a bright smile on his face as he approached the Woolett. “Long time no see.”

“Out of my way, Gustav!” Kelly shouted and Gustav jumped, quickly moving out of the way of the rampaging girl, keeping his hands raised in fright. The girl paused only long enough to shoot him a warning glare. “I'm watching you.” She did a quick gesture pointing two fingers to her eyes then in Gustav's direction before storming on.

Gustav watched her go, still frozen stiff, his eyes wide with shock and terror, saying more to himself than anyone else, “Uhh, see you later then, I guess.”

Star and Marco both cringed at their friend's unjustified behavior, their eyes slowly meeting. “Or maybe she's completely lost her marbles,” Star corrected herself and Marco nodded in agreement.

The two quickly approached the still-troubled Gustav, Marco greeting in a friendly tone, “Sorry about our friend, she's just... really determined.”

“Oh no, I get it,” Gustav said in a thick accent neither teen recognized. “Kelly's always been the competitive type.”

“Yeah, we kinda picked up on that,” Star replied.

“You know, Kelly?” Marco asked, cocking his head curiously to the side.

“Sorta. I worked at Fang Tang's for a few months,” Gustav explained, rubbing his neck shyly.

“Oh, so what restaurant are you representing this year?” Star asked.

“My own, actually. I own a modest meatball place back on Earth.”

“Wow! Your meatballs must be pretty good, then,” Marco said his eyes shining with wonder.

“I could let you try one if you'd like,” Gustav offered.

Marco gasped in joy, exclaiming, “That would be-”

“Marco! Star!” The two jumped as they heard their names, turning to see Kelly tapping a foot impatiently, her arms crossed in annoyance, clearly waiting on them to catch up.

“We better get going,” Star said, not wanting to make Kelly any more stressed than she already was.

“Good luck in the competition!” Marco added with a quick wave, the two racing to join their friend.

Gustav waved back, calling after them, “You too!”

When Marco and Star reached Kelly, however, they were greeted by a much less friendly sight, the girl glaring long and hard at them. “Hey, Kelly,” Marco began, feeling slightly nervous. “Is something wrong?”

“What did I literally just tell you two?” the girl hissed in exasperation. “Don't trust anyone!”

“Oh come on, Gustav is harmless,” Star shot back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You're being paranoid, Kelly.”

“Yeah, he seemed friendly,” Marco added a smile on his face.

Kelly rubbed her forehead with her hands, feeling a headache start to form. “They always do, right before they stab you in the back,” the Woolett muttered. But seeing the worried looks on Star and Marco's faces she quickly added in a much more reasonable tone, “Look, just try and not talk to anyone else unless you have to, okay.”

“Okay,” Star and Marco agreed as one.

Satisfied her friends wouldn't be putting themselves at further risk, turned to her designated area for the competition. The smooth metal counters shone in the mid-afternoon light, cleaned and polished to perfection. The top-of-the-line oven and stove top both looked brand new and Kelly smiled in anticipation for getting some good use out of them. All the cookware they would need was stacked neatly and organized just to Kelly's liking and the ingredients needed for her recipe were all on a cart next to the small cooking area, a blanket draped across them to try and prevent the competition from catching on to her chosen dish. The area was small but just big enough for three (or now four) people to work and move about freely.

“Wow, looks to me like we're already ready to go!” Marco exclaimed, a bright grin on his face as he admired the miniature kitchen.

Kelly nodded her head in approval. “Yeah, looks that way. Guess whoever Roy hired actually did their job right,” the green-haired girl complimented, running her finger along the smooth metal, not a speck of dust to be found.

“Guess that means, we're just waiting for the competition to actually start,” Star commented.

“And on Tom,” Marco added.

“If he shows,” Kelly said doubtfully.

“He will,” Marco reassured her. “He promised.”

“Well, let's hope he does, then,” was all the Woolett said in response. “In the meantime, though, do you guys remember your jobs?”

Star and Marco nodded. “Oh yeah, we are so ready!” the hooded teen exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air. “I've been hyped for this all week!”

“Oh, he has,” Star agreed, putting a hand on her boyfriend's shoulder shooting him a loving look. “I haven't seen Marco this excited in forever.”

“Yep, I even stayed up all night last night making a list of everything each of us has to do!”

Marco pulled out said list, letting it unfold so the two girls could read it. Kelly looked over the tiny lettering in surprise, saying in the nicest tone she could, “Wow, Marco this is... very detailed.”

“Thanks, I even color coded it,” the boy said, puffing out his chest with pride.

“So what about Tom?” Kelly asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh well, I had to rearrange a few things,” Marco explained sheepishly.

“That's what took us so long getting here, actually,” Star pitched in.

“I see,” Kelly said, her eyes scanning the page again without really reading it. At least they are prepared, the hairy teen thought.

“Well, well, well,” a cynical voice said behind them and the group of teens turned to see a tall lanky man in a chef's uniform standing over them. He was a strange looking man to behold, everything about him screamed that something was not quite right, from the eyepatch over his right eye, to the hook hand on his left arm, to the large metal spatula that operated as a sort of peg leg, something about this man left Marco and Star feeling uncomfortable. On top of that he had a crooked smile that screamed trouble, framed by a thin, curled mustache and goatee, and his cheek marks were spatulas.

He leered down at the three with a single, judging eye, his gaze seeming to be sizing them up and Star and Marco felt a chill jump up their spines. “It would seem Roy decided to hire a few amateur chefs to represent his restaurant this year, how interesting. Seems like he's finally given up,” the man said, his voice dripping with superiority, polishing his gleaming hook with a fancy handkerchief.

Kelly's eyes narrowed at the insult, saying through gritted teeth, “We are not amateurs. And for the record, we are more than ready to wipe the floor with you, Pie King.”

“Pie King?” Marco whispered in confusion and Star just shrugged.

Pie King paused for a moment at the challenge before bursting out into laughter, only causing Kelly's anger to grow. “Oh that's a good joke. Roy's pathetic restaurant has never won once, not against the superior might of the Pie Folk.” The pompous man stood a little taller as he spoke of his people.

“Well before Roy didn't have us,” Kelly responded confidently, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Pie King rolled his singular eye, before saying in a sly tone, “Right, then I suppose we'll just see who is better, won't we.”

“Yes, we will,” Kelly spat out, the two glaring at each other for a moment, a spark of animosity passing between the two competitors.

“Well, good luck with that, I look forward to beating you,” Pie King said before turning and walking over to his own station which was three times bigger than their tiny set up, at least a dozen chefs all waiting to follow his orders. The Pie King turned to them with a superior grin, giving them a patronizing wave that caused Kelly's blood to boil.

The Woolett let out a groan of annoyance, doing her best to not let her anger show (not wanting to give Pie King the satisfaction of seeing he had an effect on her) and she turned away, propping herself up on the tabletop as she took slow breaths to try and calm down.

“Who was that guy?” Marco asked curiously, eying the strange man out of the corner of his eye.

“That would be the esteemed Pie King of Pie Island,” Kelly said in a mocking tone, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, so that's the Pie King, huh?” Star questioned, her interest peaked. She had never actually met any of the Pie Folk in person before, but their reputation spoke for themselves, well known for being as untrustworthy as they were excellent cooks. Their pies are some of the most delicious things in the world but the cost of getting one could prove too great since the Pie Folk were dirty cheaters and thieves at heart.

“Yep, that's him in the flesh,” Kelly replied with a deep sigh. “Watch yourself around him. He's as sneaky as they come.”

Star and Marco nodded. “What does he have against Roy anyways?” Marco asked nervously, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he felt the Pie King's lingering gaze land on him.

“Oh those two have hated each other for forever,” the girl-haired girl said. “And he would do anything to make sure we don’t win because of it.”

Star and Marco shared nervous looks at that. If what Kelly said was true then this guy really was bad news and the two wanted to stay as far away from him as possible.

The teens quickly brushed this off though, having more important things in mind than the tricky Pie King, as the announcer declared the competition would soon begin. Star, Marco and Kelly quickly got into their positions, checking over everything to make sure it was all in perfect working order. Once the Woolett was satisfied, it simply became a matter of waiting. The time seemed to drag on at an agonizing rate as the three stood around in boredom, watching the other chefs rush around to get everything ready. Kelly drummed her fingers impatiently against the countertop, searching the crowded area for any signs of their fourth member, growing more and more frustrated with every minute that passed. Every few seconds, Marco would check his phone for both the time and to see if maybe he got a call from Tom, but with no luck.

After three minutes of waiting Marco tried calling him, Kelly watching closely as the hooded teen's face flooded with disappointment before hanging up the phone without a word. “Seriously?” the Woolett huffed. “I'm starting to think he isn't going to show.”

“He'll be here,” Star reassured her friend, giving her a confident smile. But she was starting to have her doubts herself. Tom was usually a little late but this was getting ridiculous, even for him.

After nearly ten minutes though, the gang was starting to worry he wasn't coming, Marco keeping a close eye on his phone for any sign of ringing and Star and Kelly looking around frantically for any sign of him. Finally, the blond leaned heavily on the tabletop. “Where the heck is he?!” Star snapped, starting to get frustrated with her friend's tardiness. “I swear if he doesn't show, he's gonna get an earful.”

“Maybe he forgot,” Marco suggested with a shrug.

“Typical,” Kelly muttered bitterly. But she quickly took charge once again, saying to her fellow cooks, “Well if he doesn't get her soon, we'll just have to go back to the original plan. Star, you'll be in charge of-”

“That won't be necessary,” a voice said behind the girl and the three looked over to see Tom standing just a few feet away, a smug grin on his face.

“Tom!” the three said as one.

“You made it,” Marco added happily, his eyes twinkling in joy.

But Kelly and Star were less than enthusiastic, the hairy girl snapping, “Where were you?!”

“And why weren't you answering your phone?!” Star added, with a scolding glare.

“Whoa, whoa, relax,” Tom said smoothly, raising his hands in surrender. “Look sorry for making you wait, but I'm here now, aren't I?”

“Yeah but barely, you cut it way too close, Tom,” Kelly responded immediately, her voice full of authority as she addressed her final baker.

Tom shrugged. “I just like to wait for the best possible moment to show,” the boy explained, giving her an innocent grin.

But Kelly wasn't budging as she said in a firm tone, “Well, on time would have been the best possible moment and if you are gonna be baking for me, you need to follow my commands exactly, got it?”

Tom seemed a little annoyed by this, his cheekmarks simmering just a bit but he quickly gained control of himself, nodding and giving a salute. “Aye, aye, ma'am,” he said with a cool smirk.

“Good,” Kelly said, satisfied with the boy's obedience. She held out a hand in offering and Tom shook it without a second thought, the Woolett adding in a semi-pleasant tone, “Then welcome aboard the team.” 

“Happy to be here,” Tom replied, smiling smoothly back.

“Hey, Tom!” Marco shouted over to the pair, a bright grin on his face as usual, his cheekmarks glowing bright red from his excitement. “Come stand over by me, I saved you a spot!”

“Sure thing, Marco,” Tom called back, giving his friend a warm smile as he moved over to Marco's side, now standing between him and Star. The hooded teen practically bounced with excitement now that Tom had arrived, happy to have his best guy friend there to help out.

“Glad you could make it,” Star said to her friend, before giving him a knowing look, “Finally.”

Tom smiled guiltily, saying, “Yeah, sorry.”

Star laughed, giving Tom a light shove. “Tom, I'm just kidding. I know how you are. I'm just glad you made it.”

Tom grinned over at the blond. “Thanks.”

“So Tom, are you ready to help us make the most delicious meal ever!” Marco exclaimed, unable to hold in his enthusiasm.

Tom, however, kept up his cool and collected attitude as he just shrugged, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he replied smoothly, “Sure, what are we waiting for? Let's do it.”

“Well we gotta wait for the time to officially start,” Star explained to her hot-headed friend.

“Luckily we only got about a minute or so,” Kelly spoke up, returning to her own spot as she waited tensely for the competition to officially begin, her heart beginning to pound in anticipation.

Star turned to Tom and whispered softly over to him, keeping her voice low enough that neither Kelly or Marco could hear. “Are you sure you are up for this? I've never heard of you cooking anything in your life.”

Tom scoffed, not bothering to match Star's quiet tone as he replied confidently, “Oh yeah, I've got this. I've been cooking with my mom for years. I can handle anything you guys can dish out.”

“Well if you're sure,” Star said reluctantly, not quite believing her friend was as ready as he let on. Tom seemed to pick up on this though, his eyes flashing with hurt and annoyance for a second and Star quickly added, “It's just this whole thing means a lot to Kelly and she needs all of us at the top of our game to pull this off.”

“Star, relax,” Tom replied, giving her a smooth grin. “I got this.”

Star still wasn't quite sure if that was true or not but not wanting to upset her friend, didn't argue any further, simply nodding her head and giving him a small smile.

“What are we whispering about?” Marco asked in his own soft tone, leaning in closer so he could hear what his friends were discussing without him.

Star and Tom shared a grin before the blond explained with a giggle, “Nothing important, Marco. Don't worry.”

“Okay,” the boy said with bright enthusiasm.

Tom decided it best to change the subject as he asked the group. “So what are we making anyways?”

Kelly whipped her head over in their direction, saying in a disbelieving tone, “You didn't tell him what we were making?!”

Star and Marco's faces flushed with embarrassment, Marco beginning to tap his pointer fingers together as he muttered sheepishly, “Well it kinda slipped our minds.”

Seeing Kelly's growing worry and frustration, Star quickly added, “But hey, it's okay. I'm sure Tom'll be able to learn as he goes, right Tom?” She gave him a knowing look and the flaming teen nodded.

“Oh yeah, sure, I've got this,” Tom replied awkwardly, the hesitancy and nervousness in his tone giving him away in a second.

Kelly sucked in a calming breath, doing her best to remain cool and level-headed despite the creeping anxiety she could feel building up inside her. “It's fine,” she muttered, more to herself than the others. “We can handle this.” She turned to the hooded teen. “Marco, please fill Tom in on what we're making today and what his part is going to be.”

Marco nodded and pulled out his color-coded list and Kelly almost laughed at the irony. Looks like I misjudged that thing. Who would've thought that actually had a use?

“Ok, so we're making a very special recipe that Kelly came up with all by herself. It's called the Multiverse Multi Layered Rainbow Cake,” Marco explained, his voice shaking some with excitement, his eyes shimmering with pure joy as he thought of the genius recipe his friend had come up with, his stomach rumbling some and his mouth beginning to water just thinking about the delectable treat.

But before the hooded teen could explain anymore to his friend, the announcer from before loudly declared to the crowd and competitors alike, “And now friends it's time for Queen Comet’s Annual Mewni Bake-Off to officially begin!” A loud cheer rang out through the crowd and the Mewman man smiled brightly. He cleared his throat, before his megaphone cheekmarks glowed brightly, activating his Trait as he shouted loud enough for all to hear, “Good luck to all our chefs this year and may the best baker win!”

With that a whistle was blown behind him, officially beginning the baking competition.

Kelly immediately took charge, yelling to the rest of her bakers, “Nevermind, we don't have time for that, Tom you're just gonna have to learn on the go!”

Tom's eyes widened and he let out a nervous chuckle, saying in a skittish tone, “Uhh, can't we just go over the recipe like one time or-”

“Nope” Kelly shouted, flicking the sheet off the cart, revealing her ingredients to the world and letting the sheet flutter to the group forgotten. Tom nearly gasped in shock as he stared at a collection of ingredients from all over the multiverse, some of which even he didn't recognize. “What is all that?”

“Our ingredients, duh,” Kelly responded, quickly grabbing a few of them off the cart and handing them over to Star and Marco.

“This stuff looks like it came from every dimension possible!” Tom exclaimed, his mind still reeling in shock.

“Yeah, that's the whole point,” Star spoke up, her and Marco huddled together as they worked on peeling open some odd-looking purple fruit. “Kelly had the genius idea of mixing food from different dimensions together into one dish.”

“I've actually had the idea for a while now,” Kelly said modestly, but there was a confident gleam in her eye. “It just took a while to figure out which ingredients to use. But I think I got the recipe down.”

“Oh man, do you!” Marco exclaimed, looking up from his task long enough to shoot his friend a smile. “Me and Star loved it! Right, Star?”

Star nodded. “Yeah it was delicious,” the blonde agreed, still working hard on peeling the remaining bits off the fruit, before passing it to Kelly.

The green-haired girl whipped out a sharp knife, twirling it expertly in her hand before quickly dicing up the fruit in only a few seconds, her hand moving at speeds Tom didn't even know was possible. 

“So what do I do?” Tom asked, feeling suddenly left out of the group.

“Well while we're working on getting the purpleblurp berries ready, you can start on mixing up the rest of the ingredients,” Kelly directed him, never taking her eyes off the sharp knife as she cut through the purple fruit like it was nothing.

“Right, sure,” Tom said with a quick nod, looking around the small kitchen for any signs of a bowl of some sort. “Uhhh just need a-”

“Below you and to your left,” Marco helpfully supplied and Tom was able to locate the mixing bowl he needed.

“Alright, where do I start?” Tom asked, looking over to his friends for his next direction.

“Four scoops of fluff flower,” Kelly said, Tom quickly scooping the mix into the bowl.

“Two griffon eggs,” Star added and Tom quickly cracked them open and added them to his mixture.

“Two scoops of sapphire sugar,” Marco directed, a bright smile on his face, clearly enjoying himself.

“A whole thing of banana butter,” Star added, looking over to make sure her friend followed the direction.

“A pinch of aquamarine salt,” Kelly finished. She turned to Tom with a serious expression, pointing her knife in his direction as she added, “But not too much. It could ruin the whole mixture.”

Tom nodded, sprinkling in only a few grains of the blue powder.

“Now just keep mixing okay,” Kelly said, the smile returning to her face as she continued to cut up fruit. Tom did just that, whisking the spatula around the bowl at the fastest speed he could, his eyes beginning to glow red from the pure intensity he was putting into the task, causing some of the mixture to splatter out of the bowl.

“Relax, Tom,” Marco said, noticing his friend's tense demeanor. “You don't have to be so aggressive. Just have fun, okay.”

“Yeah, you're mixing the batter, not declaring war on it,” Star jokingly added, giggling a bit to herself.

Tom slowed down his assault on the batter, giving his friend an embarrassed grin, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Right, sorry, guess I just got carried away.”

“Well next time, try not to spill it everywhere,” Kelly commented as she stepped over to where Tom was, depositing the chopped up bits of fruit into the bowl, Tom mixing them in with the rest of the ingredients. “We want the mixture to go in the cake, not on the floor.”

The hot-headed teen frowned but kept his comments to himself as he finished stirring.

Kelly nodded her head in approval as she looked into the bowl, before saying, “Okay, that should do it for the first layer, now get it into the oven to cook.”

Tom nodded, quickly moving over to the oven and beginning to fiddle with the buttons and knobs, trying to figure out how to activate the heat, while Kelly poured the mixture into a pan. The boy growled some in frustration as he pressed buttons at random hoping that would somehow work. Dang, stupid machines! Why did they all have to be so complicated! This was exactly why the Underworld had Firebrand Fairies instead. All they had to do was breathe a little bit of fire and your meal was ready to go. Why didn't everyone switch to this much easier method instead of insisting on using dumb technology for everything?!

The others could see their friend struggling and Marco helpfully asked, “Hey, Tom you need a hand?”

“No, no, I got it,” Tom replied stubbornly, though the venom in his tone was clear. There was no way he was gonna let a stupid oven beat him! He was the Prince of the Underworld for crying out loud! He would get this thing working even if it killed him!

Kelly just rolled her eyes and hit the start button out of the boy's view, causing the machine to instantly come to life and Tom grinned in victory. “See, told you I'd get it,” he said smugly in Star and Marco's direction. The two had to turn away to hide their laughter, giggling to themselves over their friend's naivety in the kitchen. It was obvious Tom wasn't the master baker he had said he was.

Tom proudly slid the pan into the oven and slammed the lid, clapping his hands together to dust off the remaining powder from his messy mixing. “There, done and done. That wasn't so bad,” the boy declared, gloaling to himself at his impressive skills. Sure, he had been a little lost at first but he was really starting to get the hang of this whole cooking thing. You couldn't even tell this was his first time.

Just then, though, Star and Marco  gasped in surprise, the former exclaiming brightly, “Oh hey look Kelly, Jackie and Janna came to cheer us on!”

Tom followed the blonde royal's pointing finger, before feeling his heart stop as he spotted the beanie-wearing girl in the crowd. The girl's playful brown eyes rested on him and him alone, clearly watching him from her vantage point. She was leaned back in her seat, her lip showing the slightest hint of a grin, causing her bright white fang to be just barely visible in the blinding sunlight. Tom felt his heart skip a beat, his cheeks heating up in a blush and making his flames become roaring bonfires.

A second later, the oven lit on fire, flames bursting from within the metal device and Marco and Star screamed as one, “Tom, your fire!”

The hot-headed teen screamed in surprise as he looked down and saw the damage from his power. Kelly's eyes widened to the size of saucers as she yelled at the top of her lungs, “No, my cake!” The group began panicking as they tried to put the fire out, Marco rushing over to the sink and filling a glass of water to pour on the flame, Star running to go get her wand, and Tom simply tried to think calming thoughts and slow his racing heartbeat. Kelly, however, kept her cool as she reached into her large mass of hair and pulled out a red fire extinguisher. In a matter of seconds, Kelly had the fire under control, blasting the ruined pan with a wash of the foamy, retardant substance.

But the incident hadn't gone unnoticed, gaining a crowd of onlookers both audience and participants alike, all of them watching flabbergasted as the teens struggled to save their spot in the competition. One of these viewers was none other than the Pie King himself, who had been keeping a close eye on the kids since the contest began. He smiled smugly to himself as he watched the four scramble to repair the damage done, his one eye hovering on that of the demon boy. It was clear to the sneaky chef that this boy was out of his element, looking uncomfortable and awkward as he attempted to help cook. But it was clear he had never been in a kitchen in his life and that made him an easy target.

The Pie King let out a shrill whistle and held a banana up in his good hand. A second later a squealing white monkey hopped onto his shoulder, snatching up the banana and devouring it instantly. The Pie King barely acknowledged the animal, his eye remaining on the group of teens. Specifically on the young, awkward half-demon. A twisted smirk formed on his face as he said to his small pet, “Go take care of our competition. And please try and be discreet about it.”

The monkey nodded it's furry head before hopping off his shoulder, readying to go do his master's bidding, the Pie King watching giddily. 

Once Kelly got the fire out, the group of teens were finally able to breathe easy again as they stared at the oven in disbelief. Tom cringed in guilt, looking shamefully at the damage he had done to the metal monstrosity. He hadn't meant to cause so much damage, maybe agreeing to help had been a bad idea after all.

Kelly was silent as she slipped on a pair of oven mitts and pulled out the smoking, burnt mess that was once cake batter. She set it on the counter and frowned in despair. She wafted a hand over it a few times to try and dissolve the thick smoke that poured off it but she knew it was a lost cause. There was no salvaging this, they would just have to start again. She checked the watch on her wrist, not wanting to see just how behind they were and let out a groan of annoyance from how much time they had lost. They would have to work extra fast to make it up.

“Uhh sorry, Kelly,” Tom finally managed to mutter, his voice tight with remorse for his actions.

Kelly let out a long sigh, before pushing down all her anxiety and stress. They didn't have time to dwell on it. “It's fine,” she said to the boy, her voice sharp but thankfully not resentful. “We'll just have to remake it.”

Tom nodded, still feeling bad for causing so much trouble. Marco and Star finally stepped in, each putting a soothing hand on Tom's shoulders and giving him an understanding smile. “Don't worry, Kelly,” Marco said, his voice full of positivity and belief. “I'm sure we can make up for lost time if we work hard enough. Right, Star?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah, Marco's right! As long as we work together I'm sure we can finish the cake before the deadline.”

“Well, we gotta move fast then,” Kelly muttered, dumping the ruined food into a nearby trashcan before setting the bowl back down. She didn't sound quite convinced but at least she wasn't dwelling on the mistake. Instead, she got right back to work, barking out orders to her helpers who rushed to obey her commands. “Alright, we're gonna have to work fast then, Marco, Star, start peeling more fruit. Tom get the ingredients in that bowl asap! Let's move people, we don't have a lot of time to do this!”

In a matter of a few short minutes, the group had completely remade the first batch of cake batter, this time without any incidents and it was in the oven cooking, Kelly setting the timer instead of Tom, which the boy was thankful for.

But there was no time to celebrate, Kelly not wasting a second as she turned to her friends and said, “Alright, here's the plan, Tom and I are gonna work on the next batch. Marco and Star, you get to work on making the frosting. You remember how, don't you?” The two Mewmans nodded, doing cute little salutes.

“Yes, ma'am!” Marco exclaimed.

“We're on it,” Star added, equally as enthusiastic.

The two scrambled over to their station, ready and eager to get to work on the frosting.

Kelly watched them for about two seconds before whipping her head in Tom's direction who flinched.

“Alright, Tom. Ready to put those mixing skills to good use?” she asked, the smallest hint of a smile on her face.

Tom nodded, though he looked a bit unsure of himself. “Uhh, yeah, I guess. But out of curiosity, how many layers is this cake going to be?”

“Three,” Kelly replied as she set out the next set of ingredients needed. “The bottom layer is going to be purpleblurp, which we just finished, the middle layer is going to be Mewberries, for obvious reasons, and the top layer is going to be chocolate, cause who doesn't like chocolate.”

“I like it!” Marco pitched in, raising a hand and flashing them an innocent grin before returning his focus on his work.

“Exactly!” Kelly exclaimed, looking confident and in control again, any signs of nervousness gone. She was in her element, after all, and it was time for her to shine.

The Woolett flew into action, chopping up the delicious looking Mewberries into small little pieces, while directing Tom on the next set of cake mix. The boy worked delicately and precisely now, not wanting to make another mistake like before, being extra careful to not spill any of the contents on the counter, gritting his teeth and pinching his eyebrows together in concentration as he swirled the large spoon around the bowl. He wanted to prove to Kelly and the others that he was of valuable use to them. At first he had only agreed to help out of wanting to spend some time with Star and Marco but now he needed to prove he could do this. That he could fit in and do his part, otherwise he might not have a place in their group and he didn't want to be left out for such an easily avoidable reason.

As he mixed though, he kept his eyes on the bowl, barely looking over to acknowledge the ingredients as he picked them up off the table. Because of this, he didn't notice a small, furry hand reaching up from under the table and picking up the box of sugar, switching it with the box of salt. Then the hand slowly disappeared beneath the table once again.

“Now for the sugar,” Kelly said and Tom nodded, lifting up the box beside him without reading the label. He poured in the amount Kelly told him before setting it down and continuing with the baking process.

Star and Marco, meanwhile, were hard at work making frosting. They had set out the correct ingredients in front of them and Marco was eagerly stirring the smooth mixture into the bowl, his movements reminding Star of a master chef. The boy was humming a tune as he steadily mixed, clearly having a blast and Star couldn't help but hum along with him despite not recognizing the tune. Star was immensely happy she had agreed to help out Marco and Kelly, any time spent with her amazing boyfriend was sure to be a good one and having some time away from trying to literally fix the world was a relief. They had been working really hard lately, it was nice to have some time off. Even a princess needed to rest from time to time and after the Baby incident she had needed it more than ever.

Star was pulled from her thoughts as Marco suddenly said, “Okay Star, time to add in the food coloring.”

“Right,” Star agreed with a nod. This was the most important ingredient, Kelly’s own secret ingredient that she had worked tirelessly to make and the two teen’s both knew all too well it’s importance in the dish. Star scanned the countertop for the small vial of rainbow-colored liquid. But her smile switched to a frown when she didn't see the bottle anywhere. “Marco, you did grab it from the cart, right?” she asked, giving him a questioning look.

Marco nodded, his eyes widening in surprise. “Uh, yeah,” the boy in red replied, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. “I remember getting it. I put it right there.” He pointed to the spot only to gasp in shock as he stared at an empty space where the secret ingredient had once been.

“What?” Marco put down the bowl to lean over the spot, examining the smooth metal surface like the bottle might miraculously appear there. “But I know I put it there.” He frowned, his head spinning with questions.

Star tapped a finger to her chin looking around the tiny kitchen space for any sign of the missing ingredient. “Hmmmmm...” she mumbled. Her eyes landed on Kelly and she cringed, not wanting to trouble the girl with any more problems. She already seemed stressed enough and telling they had lost her secret ingredient just seemed like a bad idea. So she softly whispered to Marco in a low tone, “We better find it quick before Kelly notices.”

Marco nodded and the two quietly began a search around the kitchen, trying to go unnoticed by Kelly and Tom who were too focused on finishing up their batch of batter. Star checked all the cabinets and shelves for any signs of the missing vile with no luck, growing more and more agitated with each passing second. Marco was on his hands and knees looking around the table just in case it had fallen off somehow and rolled away. Although the hooded teen didn't locate the missing bottle, he did come across a trail of suspicious looking pawprints leading away from their table.

Marco stared at them in surprise for a second, examining them closely. They looked like they came from some kind of animal, though Marco couldn't tell which one. Whatever it was it had stepped in some flour, leaving white, powdery footprints behind. He was far from an expert on these things but something told Marco that if he followed this trail he would find out where the missing bottle of food coloring had gone. So without a word, he stood and began following the messy footprints around the courtyard.

He passed by a few stands but barely looked up to notice the rush of chefs scrambling to finish their meals on time. His focus was only on following the footprints, his head still filled with questions, wondering what could possibly be waiting for him on the other end. He did notice though that the footprints seemed to be fading, whatever creature had stepped in the incriminating flour had had a long way to go it seemed and the trail begun to vanish from its paws with every step. Marco began to fear he'd lose the trail and picked up his pace, jogging forward while keeping his gaze down at the prints. Just as the prints faded fully, Marco found himself standing in front of one of the many baking stations, staring down at the table in confusion.

He looked up and was shocked to be staring into the smirking face of the Pie King, who just stared back at him with a look that Marco found instantly off-putting. The boy stumbled back in his surprise, feeling his cheeks heat up against his will. Marco felt a rush of awkwardness and found it difficult to meet the Pie King's intense gaze, especially since there seemed to be something malevolent hidden behind his dark eyes. “Can I help you with something?” the Pie King asked, his voice ringing with annoyance and Marco felt even more uncomfortable than before.

“Sorry, I was just looking for something,” Marco responded in a tiny whisper. He turned to leave when a squealing drew his attention back. He turned to see a creature (a monkey if he remembered from his books) sitting on the Mewman's shoulder, staring at him with what looked like an evil grin... and clutched in its small hand was the rainbow-colored bottle that Marco had been looking for.

“Hey, that's ours!” Marco exclaimed, reaching over to grab it, only to receive a smack from the Pie King's hooked hand. The boy cringed, holding his aching palm to his chest, while giving the man a confused frown.

“What do you think you are doing, trying to steal from our table like that?!” the crooked king exclaimed, anger flashing across his face.

“I'm not stealing from your table!” Marco shouted, completely flabbergasted at the accusation. He stabbed a finger at the pet still perched on the Pie King's shoulder. “That monkey stole that from us!”

“And do you have any proof of that?” the Pie King asked, his eyebrows slowly raising.

“Uhhh, well, he left footprints leading all the way-” Marco's voice cut off as he turned to look back at him, the trail now completely gone, swept clean by one of the Pie King's many minions, who smirked at him still holding the incriminating  broom.

The Pie King and his monkey shared a knowing look, before the man exclaimed, “It seems to me you are completely delusional. That or you're a thief and I don't tolerate either, so you can either leave my stand peacefully or I can call one of the judges over and have you and your little team disqualified.”

Marco's mouth dropped open in complete disbelief. Was this guy for real? Was he seriously accusing Marco when his pet had so obviously stolen from their table like that? Did he seriously think he was gonna get away with it? “Are you serious?! You stole that from us!” Marco pointed to the vile, once again, in a last ditch effort, but the Pie King merely shook his head, in complete control of the whole situation. 

“I will not ask you again to leave. Or would you like to fail your friend on such a spectacular level as to get her disqualified?” The Mewman gave him a warning look and Marco took a step back out of instinct. He felt utterly lost and alone, his cheeks burning with failure and his stomach doing little flips in despair. Still, he knew there was no winning this and so simply shook his heavy head and headed back the way he came.

The feeling of defeat was made all the worse by the fact that he could swear he heard the Pie King laughing at him behind his back.

When the boy got back to Kelly's station he was quickly greeted by Star, who's eyes shined with concern, running over and giving him a tight hug. Marco felt his stomach twist in guilt, knowing he had made Star worry for wandering off without a word. Ever since the Mewberty incident, Star didn't like not knowing where Marco was, keeping him under an even closer watch than usual... and that was saying something. Star was already pretty protective.

“Where were you?” she asked as she pulled away.

Marco gave her a sheepish grin, replying apologetically, “Sorry, I didn't mean to wander off.” But his throat tightened as he added, “But I found out who took the rainbow dye.”

“Who?” Star asked, the fear leaving her eyes, instead replaced with burning curiosity.

“The Pie King. He had his pet monkey thing snatch it up while we weren't looking.”

Star gasped, her mouth dropping open in surprise before she scowled angrily, gritting her teeth in frustration. “That jerk! I can't believe he would just take it like that, especially in the middle of the competition!”

Marco nodded, an angry frown on his own face. It seemed Kelly had been right all along about the sneaky Pie King and the hooded teen couldn't help but feel resentment towards the man. He was about to ruin his friend's only chance to achieve her dream for no real reason. And even if he had a reason it was still wrong!

“I tried to get it back but he said he'd have us disqualified if I did,” Marco explained, his eyes now filling with panic. “What do we tell Kelly?”

Star shook her head, looking as lost as Marco felt. “I have no idea. This is gonna crush her.”

Just then, the Woolett let out an annoyed shout, the frustration and nervousness clear in her tone as she yelled, “Tom! You mixed it in wrong! You put in way too much salt!”

“What?!” Tom exclaimed, looking down at the dough in disbelief. “No way, I followed the recipe exactly like you told me to, I swear!”

Kelly quickly picked up two boxes off the table, shoving them in the hot-headed teen’s face. “You mixed up the salt and sugar! You ruined it!”

Star and Marco shared a knowing look, both thinking the exact same thing. Looks like the Pie King had sabotaged them once again.

“N-No,” Tom muttered weakly, looking lost and confused as he stared at the two boxes in growing despair. “I-I couldn't have. I mean, I thought I had it right.”

“Kelly-” Star spoke up, trying to gain the Woolett's attention but she was too busy reprimanding the hot-headed teen to notice.

“Ugh, I knew this was gonna happen!” Kelly groaned, slamming the boxes down on the table in a huff, her anger and frustration close to bursting. “I knew you couldn't handle this! I never should have let you help!”

“Wait, what?!” Tom exclaimed, a dark glare spreading across his face as his cheekmarks burned with growing anger.

“Kelly, wait,” Marco tried, moving between the two, Star right beside him, needing to stop the two before a full-blown argument broke out. “It's not what you think.”

“Oh I think it's exactly what I think!” Kelly shouted. “Tom ruined any chance I had at winning this thing and just cost me my dream job!”

“How is this my fault?!” Tom yelled, his anger now boiling over as his eyes began to turn a dark shade of red. “I did everything you told me! If anything this is your fault!”

Kelly let out a fake laugh at that, giving him an incredulous look. “Me? You said you knew how to cook but clearly you were lying!”

Tom's eyes flashed with guilt at that, rubbing subconsciously at his arm.

“ENOUGH!” Star shouted at the top of her lungs, finally gaining both arguing teens' attention. The two stared at her with looks ranging from confusion to annoyance and she shot them both a scolding glare. “That is enough out of both of you! Arguing is not going to fix anything!” the blonde exclaimed in a reprimanding tone.

“Besides it's not Tom's fault,” Marco added. “The Pie King is trying to sabotage us. He stole the rainbow food coloring too and he probably mixed up the sugar and salt to make it look like Tom mess up.”

Kelly stared at the two in disbelief for a second, before saying loudly, “What?! Are you serious?! He just ruined everything and we didn’t even notice! How did I not see that coming?! I mean, sure I knew he was sneaky, but that is just downright criminal! I can't believe we fell for that, ugh!” The girl buried her face in her hands, letting out a long groan.

Tom, meanwhile, just stared at his feet, his heart aching from the Woolett's harsh words. Marco seemed to notice this as he asked pointedly, “So don't you think you owe someone an apology?”

Kelly finally met Marco's eye and then Tom's seeing the hurt she had caused him and felt her stomach churn with guilt. “Tom, I'm sorry. I-”

“No, no, you were right,” Tom muttered weakly. “I did lie. I don't know what I'm doing. I just wanted to be included.” He sucked in a deep breath before adding softly, “I know how important this whole competition is to you, so I'll just let you guys handle the rest without me.”

“Tom,” Star spoke up soothingly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “This isn't your fault. The Pie King is messing with us. This is exactly what he wants. To divide us. But we don't have time to feel bad or be at each other's throats, not if we want to win this.” She turned to Kelly with a questioning expression. “We do still want to win this, right?”

Kelly sighed, defeat and exhaustion shining in her eyes. “I don't really see how we can. We've lost so much time and we don't even have a way to finish the recipe. I think this year Fang Tangs is out.” She leaned against the tabletop, her head lolling forward in shame and regret. She was practically shaking with despair, her fingers clutching so hard at the countertop they were turning white.

Star, Marco, and Tom all shared a look, unable to bear seeing their friend so emotionally devastated. Even Tom looked determined to cheer their friend up, his eyes glowing with compassion, even if he had no clue what to do to help. Star looked to be at a loss, as well, looking around sadly at the competition, all hard at work and nearly done with their dishes. It would take a miracle to catch up now.

But Marco refused to give up, something about this situation filling him with ambition and determination. That’s when the idea came to him. “No,” the boy said firmly and all eyes turned to him. “We're not out of this yet.”

Kelly looked confused at his words, before arguing, “But Marco. Look around.” She gestured to the other competitors. “We'll never catch up at this rate.”

“Yes, we will,” Marco said, a smile spreading across his face. “We just need a different method. And I think I have one in mind.” There was a knowing glint in his eye that caught Kelly’s attention instantly.

“And what is that?” Kelly asked, an eyebrow slowly raising.

Marco shook his head, knowing they didn't have time for him to explain it. “Don't worry about it. You just focus on getting the frosting ready. We'll handle the rest.”

“Wait, seriously?” the green-haired girl muttered in disbelief.

“Yep, leave everything else to us,” Marco said with a nod, ignoring the questioning looks from his other friends.

“But what am I supposed to do without the food coloring?” Kelly questioned, looking lost once again.

Marco shrugged. “Improvise. I'm sure you'll think of something.”

Kelly took a moment to contemplate that, her eyes flashing with determination and new drive. Marco was right. She couldn't just sit around moping, not when there was still time. She was a Woolett, a warrior by blood and her people didn't give up without a fight. She began to search their small kitchen space for anything to inspire her, needing an idea fast. That's when her gaze caught on the box of cereal Marco had brought with him. It was Captain Blanches Sugar Seeds, Marco's favorite apparently and he had insisted she use it somewhere in the cake. She had been planning on using it as some slight décor to top off the cake. But maybe...

A smile spread across Kelly's face now as she formed a new plan to get her in first place. “Alright, I think I'm on to something,” she said proudly, grabbing the box off the counter and running over to the other workstation, eager to get started, excitement bubbling in her chest.

“Great!” Marco exclaimed happily. “Then if you've got that, the rest of us will take of the cakes.”

“And how are we gonna do that?” Tom asked, giving Marco a doubting look.

“By doing what we do best... sticking together,” the hooded teen answered. He held a hand out before asking, “You two in?”

“I'm in,” Star said, immediately placing a hand on top of her boyfriend’s, the couple sharing a short smile.

Tom looked hesitant, asking softly, “You sure you want me to help?”

Marco nodded, giving him an uplifting smile. “I'm positive. We can't do this without you, Tom.”

Tom's eyes shined joy at the acceptance, feeling like an equal in their group once again. And with his confidence restored, he proudly placed a hand over Star and Marco's own before exclaiming in a cool, collected tone, “Then count me in!”

“Alright, then let's win this thing!” Marco shouted and the other cheered their agreement, throwing their linked hands into the air in excitement and unity. The boy immediately turned to Star though and added cryptically, “First things first, Star you're gonna need your wand.”

…

Jackie and Janna watched from their seats  as their friends seemed to be struggling with something. It was hard to tell because they were so far away but the four teens had completely stopped working, looking like they were talking amongst each other and based on their sorrowful expressions, it didn't seem like they were talking about anything pleasant. Clearly something had gone wrong, although neither Jackie nor Janna could piece together what that was. Things had seemed like they were going well from the two girls’ perspective, after a bit of a rough start in which Tom almost set the kitchen on fire (which Janna had seemed quite proud of for some reason) they had managed to more than make up for lost time. Only now, the group looked close to giving up, Kelly hanging her head in defeat for reasons Jackie and Janna didn't understand.

“What are they doing?” the skater girl asked, leaning forward in her seat in a vain attempt to hear them somehow.

“No idea,” Janna said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “But if they don't get back to work soon, they're gonna run out of time.”

“I know,” Jackie agreed, nodding her head. “I wonder what's wrong?”

“Wrong!” Tad exclaimed, both girls jumping in their seats. They had completely forgotten the tiny Woolett was even there, perched atop of Janna's brown beanie. For some reason, he seemed to have a distaste for chairs, much to the creepy teen's annoyance. “Something's wrong! Oh no, Kellllyyy!” he whined pitifully, his eyes shining with worrying tears.

But Janna seemed unaffected by his distress, asking in an annoyed tone, “Do you have to sit up there?”

“What, I can't see anything sitting in a chair,” Tad replied quickly.

“He has a point,” Jackie spoke up in defense of the pile of hair.

“Then why don't you move to Jackie's head?” the girl asked.

“I like yours better,” Tad replied, before the annoying whine returned to his voice. “Besides, who cares about that when my babe is struggling!”

“I don't know if they're struggling,” Jackie pointed out, frowning in the direction of the four teens.

“No, they definitely are!” Tad exclaimed, his small body beginning to shake. “I've never seen Kelly so depressed before, she looks like she's about to give up.”

“Why would she give up when they are so close to winning?” Janna asked, an eyebrow slowly raising. “Based on the rest of the dishes I'm seeing, they don't even come close to what Kelly and the others are cooking up.”

“Something must have gone wrong,” Tad replied, his body beginning to rise off of Janna's head. “I need to go over there. She needs me!” He started to float off in the direction of his girlfriend, feeling a pressing need to comfort her.

“Whoa, hold up there, Romeo!” Janna shouted, grabbing the hair out of mid-air and squishing him to her chest, holding him in an effective ‘hairlock’. “You can't go over there. She'll be disqualified if you do.”

“But Kelly...” Tad muttered in a nervous whimper, his voice trembling so much he couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Will be fine,” Jackie reassured him, patting him gently on what she assumed to be his head. “She's not alone, after all. She's got Star, Marco, and Tom on her team. And if I know anything about those three it's that they don't give up without a fight.”

“Yeah, they are pretty stubborn,” Janna added in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh as opposed to you,” Jackie slyly added, giving her roommate a knowing look.

Janna shrugged. “That's fair,” she agreed.

Tad still seemed unsure, groaning under his breath but Jackie gave him another comforting pat. “Hey, no worries, Tad. They'll pull through, you'll see.”

“And wouldn't you know it,” Janna spoke up in a mystified tone, drawing both teens' attention onto her, while she was busy staring in disbelief in the direction of Kelly's table. “It looks like they're already doing just that.”

Jackie and Tad both gasped in shock as they finally noticed what Janna was seeing. It took both Woolett and human a few seconds to process the bizarre sight and a few more for the skater to be able to form functional words as she asked no one in particular, “What are they doing?”

…

Marco was moving at a speed he hadn't even known existed, his hands flying through the motions as he prepared Kelly’s signature dish. It was a wonder he was able to keep up with his own insane speed but for some reason, he felt totally in control, like this was what he was always meant to do and he couldn't help but wonder if it was because of his Trait that was giving him the speed and precision at which to do his job. He was throwing ingredients into the bowl left and right, not even bothering to measure things out (he didn't have time for that) just doing his best to guess the amount for each serving. He cracked open eggs, chopped, sliced, peeled, and poured in the span of mere seconds for each task. At some points even he didn't even know how he was keeping up, his hands moving faster than his brain could. But somehow he was pulling this off.

He risked a quick glance at Star, a smile of wonder spreading across his face as he watched the blonde royal spinning the wand confidently in front of her. The whole thing was glowing with pink energy and Star's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, her tongue sticking out in the cutest way as she focused intently on her spell. In front of her, was a large glowing whisk, completely pink, much like Star's wand, and covered in little diamonds and star patterns all over it. It spun around the bowl in a circular pattern, stirring the mixture into a delicious looking pile of dough, everything blending together perfectly thanks to the magical utensil.

Once Star was done with stirring she pushed the bowl over to Tom who would pour the batter into a pan. He set the pan on the stovetop and cracked his knuckles, ready to do his own part and prove himself to the group. He sucked in a deep breath, before allowing the flames within him to take control. He could feel his cheeks growing hot enough to melt lead and knew they had to be burning torches by now, while his vision went completely red. 

He took slow, even breaths, picturing the fire he needed to summon deep within his core. Then focusing only on the pan in front of him, he blocked out all distractions, all three of his eyes trained on the metal dish. Slowly he saw a flame forming underneath it, burning a dim yellow, and he smiled. He was doing it. He was really doing it. 

“Wooowww,” he heard Marco’s awe-filled whisper and he felt his pride grow, making the small flame burn just a little hotter. But he knew he needed to speed things up, concentrating now on making the flame grow, watching as it slowly grew from a tiny spark to a burning, hot fire that completely consumed the bottom of the pan. 

Tom heard Marco’s gasp and he held his head a little higher, proudly showing off his skills to his best friend. “How are you doing that with your mind?” Marco asked in disbelief.

Tom was too busy concentrating to answer but luckily Star pitched in for him, still keeping her eyes on the magical whisk, “It’s Tom’s Trait. He’s always been able to do that.”

“Tom has a Trait, too!” Marco exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table in shock.

Star nodded. “Yep, he’s half-Mewman so he gets a Trait same as us.”

“That’s so cool!” Marco shouted in joy. “I can’t believe you can light things on fire with your mind, Tom!”

“It’s not easy,” Tom finally said, letting the flames around the pan diminish, leaving behind a steaming hot pan, the delicious aroma wafting off it enough to make Tom's stomach growl. “I think it’s called like pyrokenesis or something like that, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I heard a few egghead physicians my parents would take me to call it that.” He shrugged, as he poked the cake, making sure it was cooked all the way through and smiled in satisfaction. 

“Anyways,” he continued. “Most people in the Underworld can light themselves on fire and stuff but my ability is one of the rarest among demons and sometimes the hardest to control.”

“Why’s that?” Marco asked.

Tom cringed at the question, answering hesitantly, “Uh well, there are a few things that can affect it… like your emotions for example.”

“Ohhhhh,” the hooded teen said, finally understanding. He gave his friend a sympathetic look and the hot-headed boy hung his head in shame.

“Well if you ask me, I think you’ve been doing a great job, Tom,” Star spoke up, pushing the final bowl of cake mix over to Tom. 

Tom poured the batter into a new pan, casting a hopeful look over at his friend. “You think?” he asked nervously.

Star nodded. “Of course. You’ve really been working on getting that temper of yours under control, your emotions are way more in check than they used to be. I hardly ever see you set things on fire at random like you used to. I mean, used to my parents would have to put fire-proof coverings on all the furniture when your family came to visit.” She gave him a teasing wink. 

Tom grinned, the flame coming even easier than before as fire once again burned at the bottom of the pan, the batter slowly rising into a usable shape. “Well I don’t know what it is but lately controlling my Trait has been a lot easier.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re happier,” Marco suggested. 

Tom paused at that, thinking it over for a second. He was happier. Ever since he and Star had made up, his anger had been so much more manageable. He loved being a part of the Commission, feeling like he belonged to something and wasn’t shamed for his emotional outbursts. Even as a prince, he could tell people were afraid of him and it made getting close to people hard. But now, he belonged to something and that gave him comfort, because he would never have to try and belong again. Now the only time he ever lost control was around Janna, his twisted knot of emotions for her impossible to understand.

“Yeah, maybe,” he whispered, his cheeks flushing slightly as he tried to keep his thoughts off of the creepy beanie-wearing girl no doubt watching him.

Star glanced at the pan and said, “Okay, I think that’s enough, Tom.”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice, the flames instantly dying, leaving only a thin layer of steam rising off of the cooked surface of the cake.

“Good work, Tom,” Marco said, slipping on oven mitts and moving the pan next to a fan to cool. “It looks perfect.”

Tom put his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest proudly as he declared, “Well, what can I say, I am the Prince of the Underworld for a reason.”

Star and Marco giggled, before the blonde royal said teasingly, “And so modest, too.”

Tom just gave her a playful grin back, happy to feel included once more. 

Marco pulled the last pan from the oven and set it next to the other two. Now all the teens could do was wait till they were cool enough to frost, still the three couldn't help but sniff the air greedily, their stomachs growling in want. But they knew better than to indulge their empty stomachs, not after all the hard work that had gone into making the rich dessert. So ignoring their hunger pains, Star, Marco, and Tom turned to Kelly, who was hard at work mixing something.

“Okay, Kelly, all three layers are baked and ready to be frosted,” Marco exclaimed, standing at attention as he waited to hear the Woolett's next order.

The girl turned to them in surprise, her hands still mixing as she stared at them in disbelief. “Already,” she muttered. But it wasn't hard to hear the hopefulness hidden in her voice, her gaze softening. “You actually pulled it off.”

“You say that like you doubted we could,” Tom spoke up smugly.

“Well, I-” Kelly began, fidgeting as remorse flooded her features and her cheeks burning in shame.

But Marco shook his head not allowing his friend to continue, instead saying brightly, “Well, we handled it, just like I said we would and now we have a fighting chance again.”

“Yeah, we actually do!” Kelly exclaimed, her eyes burning with passion once again. “And honestly I think the change I made to the recipe is gonna be even better than before.”

“Seriously?” Star gasped. She couldn't imagine the amazing cake she and Marco had tried before could get any better. It had taken all her will-power not to stuff the delicious dessert down her throat and she had still ended up eating three slices in one go, Marco outdoing even that with four slices (which he had immediately regretted).

“What did you do anyways?” Marco asked, cocking his head to the side, clearly burning with curiosity.

“See for yourself,” Kelly said, tipping the bowl so the three could look inside it. The teens gasped but smiled at the delicious and wonderful sight in front of them. Marco was especially overjoyed by the contents of the bowl, his eyes lighting up in the cutest way. The frosting was now pink and purple and had small bits of sugar crushed up in it which sparkled in the sunlight, making it glitter like tiny crushed up jewels.

Marco couldn't believe what he was seeing, recognizing the ingredient in a heartbeat. “That's sugar seeds, isn't it!? You used Captain Blanches Sugar Seeds as your secret ingredient!”

Kelly nodded, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Yep, sure did. I'm glad you insisted on adding it to the cake, otherwise I might not have even thought to do this.”

Marco grinned brightly, practically shaking in excitement. “I can't believe you used my favorite cereal for your recipe!”

“Didn't have much of a choice,” Kelly replied, before adding quickly, “Now help me get this thing frosted before the time is up.”

“Attention all competitors! There is only five minutes remaining of this year's Annual Mewni Bake-Off so hurry and finish your dishes before it's too late!” A voice announced and the four teens shared a look, before they flew into their work with new vigor.

The next five minutes flew by in a haze of chaotic cooking, Star, Marco, Tom, and Kelly frosting and stacking and smoothing out the spread over the baked layers of cake like there was no tomorrow. There was no time for precision, only panic, as they rushed to get everything done in time. Honestly, if asked afterwards not a single one of the four novice bakers could say what they did during those five minutes. Except maybe Kelly, who was used to working under a time limit but even she gave in to her stressful mind once or twice and lost track of time.

Kelly was nervously trying to smooth out the frosting on the cake, making sure it was all even and neat but she could feel the time ticking away from her. At this rate, they were just barely going to make it since they had to have it on the cart ready to go before the time ran out. She took a moment to observe the cake, trying to decide on if they should try and make it look a little nicer or call it done.

But when the announcer loudly shouted they were on the final minute she knew they had to stop and just hope it was good enough. “Guys, we need to get it on the cart!”

“But the frosting isn't-” Marco started and Kelly grabbed onto his arms, cutting him off.

“There's no time!” she screamed, shaking him back and forth. “We need to move it, now!”

Marco gave a small nod, clearly confused and disoriented by the Woolett's action but quickly got into position to help lift the massive plate the three-layered cake was sitting on.

Kelly got into her own spot and waited until the others were ready before shouting, “Ready? Lift!” The four grunted as they managed to hoist the heavy dessert off the tabletop with their combined strength. Kelly waited a second to make sure everyone had a solid grip, the hooded teen seeming to struggle for a second, before she ordered them to move.

The group started the slow, steady process of carrying the cake over to the cart, every step pure agony to Kelly who became intensely aware of every second that passed and she cursed herself for not having thought to bring the cart closer to them beforehand. But the teens actually seemed to be making decent time, the cake remaining steady on the plate as they walked. The Woolett smiled as the cart drew closer and closer. This was it. They were actually going to make it!

The announcer's voice called out again, proclaiming in his loud but professional tone, “Only ten seconds remain! 9... 8..”

Marco felt something wedge underneath his foot mid-step and was powerless to stop himself as he felt his knee buckling and he lost his grip on the cake as he began to fall.

“7...”

Kelly saw Marco trip and felt the weight shift but could do nothing but scream in terror as the plate flew from her hand.

“6... 5...”

Star and Tom turned when they felt the plate slip from their grip and gasped in surprise as they watched the cake falling down towards their fallen friend and Star's instincts took over as she held out her wand.

“4...”

Star managed to catch the cake with her magic just before it splattered on Marco, who could only stare forward dumbly, watching as his girlfriend lifted the cake high into the air with her spell.

“3... 2...”

Star set the cake gently down on the cart, making sure to move slowly enough that the cake wouldn't be messed up in any way, but luckily it all stayed in one piece, the spell she had used keeping it suspended in a moment in time as well as in the air. She only had time to set the dessert down before a loud bell was rang, signaling the end of the competition.

“Time!” the announcer declared. “All bakers, lower your utensils!”

The four teens let out long breaths of relief and exhaustion, Star, Kelly, and Tom nearly collapsing to the ground like Marco as the stressful competition was finally over. “Oh man!” Kelly exclaimed, still in complete disbelief. “That was too close!”

“See, I told you we could make it in time!” Marco spoke up as Star helped pull him to his feet, brushing him off in a caring manner and checking him over for any injuries.

“You okay, dude?” Tom asked in concern, moving over to his friend. “That was a pretty bad fall.”

“Yeah, sorry I guess I just tripped over something,” the hooded teen muttered sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. He quickly met the Star's eye and the two blushed against their will. “Thankfully Star was here to save the day.”

“Aww, I didn't do anything special,” Star said modestly, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

“You saved the cake and my career,” Kelly pointed out, giving her a kind smile. “Thank you for that, Star.” She then turned her gaze to Marco and Tom. “And thanks everyone for keeping me going even when I felt like giving up, I really couldn't have done this without you.” Her eyes lingered on Tom for a second as she added sweetly, “All of you.”

Now Tom was blushing and he quickly hid his embarrassment with a cough, saying, “Soooo, we should probably get this cake over to the judges before anything else goes wrong, huh?”

Kelly nodded her agreement and said in an enthusiastic tone, “Yeah, let's do that.”

She began to wheel the cart away, Tom following along behind her as they headed over to the judges stand. Star started to follow when she noticed Marco standing in the same spot as before, staring at the ground, and she immediately asked, “What's wrong, Marco?”

The boy frowned and gave his shoulders a little shrug. “I just can't figure out what I tripped on. I mean, I know Higgs said I was clumsy but there was nothing for me to trip on.” He thought it over for a second, before meeting Star's eye with a nervous expression. “Do you think there's something wrong with my feet?”

Star couldn't help but giggle at her boyfriend's childish worry and he gave her a confused look at the sudden burst of laughter. “No, Marco, I don't think it has anything to do with your feet,” Star replied, trying to hide her smile. “You probably just lost your balance, it happens sometimes.”

Marco gave a slow nod, his eyebrows still pinched together, telling Star he didn't quite believe her theory. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“Now, c'mon, let's go catch up with the others,” Star said, snaking an arm around him and leading him away from the small cooking station. Marco didn't fight the blonde as she pulled him away but taking one last look back he could swear he saw a small furry white tail poking out from under one of the tables. He frowned to himself, suddenly having a pretty good idea what had tripped him up earlier.

But then Star said something to him and he returned his focus onto his girlfriend, responding to her question while inwardly hoping that the Pie King didn't have any more tricks up his sleeve. He wasn't sure Kelly (or him for that matter) could take much more of this.

…

When the gang finally reached the judge's table, they encountered a large crowd blocking their way, their competitors beating them there it would seem. Kelly looked around for a moment, trying to find a way through the thick wall of people in front of her before sighing in defeat. “It's no use. Guess we'll just have to wait till they call us.”

“Well hopefully we won't have to wait too long then,” Marco spoke up, his voice as positive as ever.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tom added, already starting to look bored. “I mean how long does it take to try some food, anyways? Just stuff it in your mouth and move on.” He rolled his eyes and Kelly had to bite her lip to keep from lecturing him on the incredibly important and intricate process of critiquing fine cuisine. But it wasn't worth the effort, besides she'd probably only end up putting the flaming teen to sleep.

“Y'know Tom, if you don't feel like waiting you could always go and join our other friends in the stands,” Star pointed out, shooting him with a playful smirk and wink.

Tom blushed as he remembered just who was waiting for him in the stands and quickly blurted out in a nervous squeak, “Uh no, that's okay.” He cleared his throat, before adding in a much more collected tone, “I'd like to see how this thing plays out. After all, I am part of the team.”

“I just hope we don't run into any more trouble before the judges can taste the cake,” Marco said nervously.

“Well just keep your eyes peeled, trouble could lurk around every corner,” Kelly replied in an unnerving tone.

“Hello friends!” Gustav yelled behind them and the group all let out screams, Kelly instinctively grabbing the boy's arm and flipping him over her shoulder. The young chef was left coughing and groaning on the floor as the group stared down at him dumbfounded. “Ouch,” he murmured in a strained tone.

“Gustav! What the heck, dude! You know better than to sneak up on a Woolett!” Kelly exclaimed, letting out an annoyed huff.

“Right, that was my bad,” the boy said, blinking away tears of pain.

“Sorry, Gustav,” Star quickly apologized, giving him a sheepish grin as she helped pull him to his feet. “We didn't know it was you.”

“Yeah we thought it was the Pie King,” Marco explained. “He's been trying to sabotage us this whole time.”

“Marco,” Kelly hissed, giving him a warning glare. Had he seriously already forgotten her rule about not talking to the competition unless it was absolutely necessary.

But Gustav didn't seem to notice this letting out a loud gasp, his eyes widening as he said, “No wonder you all are on edge! Being on the Pie King's bad side can only bring trouble.”

“Yeah, tell us about it,” Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I wouldn't want to be you right now, that's for sure,” Gustav added, giving them all sympathetic looks.

“Next up, Gustav's Meatballs,” the announcer suddenly called and the young human let out a squeal of delight, adjusting his baker hat on his head as he exclaimed. “Guess that's me! Wish me luck!”

He strolled away with an unnaturally wide grin on his face, wheeling his cart over to the judge's stand.

“Good luck!” Marco yelled after him, waving to the boy.

Kelly nearly groaned in embarrassment, muttering out sharply, “Marco, don't wish him luck! This is still a competition, remember?”

“Well, yeah but that doesn't mean I can't be friendly,” Marco argued, his eyes shining with innocence.

“Yeah, Kelly what's the big deal? So far the only one who has it out for us is the Pie King and I don't see him anywhere around,” Tom retorted, his voice full of doubt and arrogance.

“Look you guys still clearly have a lot to learn about the Mewni Bake-off,” Kelly said simply.

“But isn't this your first year entering, too?” Star pointed out, raising a knowing eyebrow.

Kelly felt her cheeks flush some as she quickly argued, “Well yeah but I just know these things, okay!”

“Okay whatever you say, boss,” Tom replied sarcastically, the smirk visible on his face.

Kelly simmered in place for a moment, doing her very best to hide the annoyance she felt but her impatience and anxiety was starting to get the better of her already. She knew she was overreacting but she couldn't help it. She was once again a walking ball of stress, her fingers twitching in place and her shoulders tensed up to the point she felt like she had pulled a muscle out of place. Her body seemed incapable of holding still with the massive amount of nerves building inside her. She did her best to hide her irrational fears from the common eye but on the inside she was screaming in both worry and excitement. The outcome of this bake-off would make or break her career, after all, it was hard to stay calm with knowledge like that.

And as if she wasn't already stressed enough, Roy decided now of all times to make his presence known, sauntering up to them with the same dorky, over-the-top grin as always but instead of just humiliation at the sight, she now felt genuine fear from the look, knowing underneath the layer of goofy bravado was a power-hungry and spiteful creature. “Well hey there, Kelly. How's my favorite chef doing today?” Roy greeted cheerfully enough, before it hardened into a much more sinister question. “Feeling confident in us crushing the Pie King in his smug face, hmm?”

“Uhh, hey Roy,” Kelly managed to nervously muster. “Good to see you here. Right before the judges taste our cake. That's not stressful at all.” She let out an awkward chuckle and the others could see their friend was in desperate need of saving.

“We managed to get the cake done, Roy,” Star spoke up, hoping to distract the goblin's attention off of her friend.

“Yeah and I think the judges are gonna like what they taste,” Marco added with a confident grin.

“Oh thank you princess for coming to help out my little restaurant, it really means a lot to me,” Roy said in an overly sweet tone, shaking the girl's hand vigorously.

“Uhh, what about Kelly?” Tom asked suspiciously.

Roy seemed to have completely forgotten about his chef for a moment as he mumbled halfheartedly, “Hmm, oh yes, yes. It means a lot to Kelly, too.”

Tom gave the goblin an incredulous look while the Woolett's eyes just narrowed in annoyance, gritting her teeth to keep from commenting.

“Well it was no problem,” Star said modestly, her regal tone picking up at just the right moment. “I'm always happy to help out a friend.” The blonde put extra emphasis on the last word, hoping to gain Kelly a little recognition for her own work.

But again, Roy seemed oblivious to his worker's existence as he squealed in delight, “Oh my, I can't believe it! The princess of Mewni is calling me one of her friends!” His eyes shimmered with joy and it took all of Star's willpower not to grimace.

“Actually I think Star was talking about Kelly,” Marco pointed out.

“Oh,” Roy said in obvious disappointment. But he quickly directed his attention onto the Woolett asking in excitement, “Sooo did everything go well? I know after tasting that amazing recipe you came up with we'd finally have something to one-up my greatest rival and his island of thieves.” The goblin gave his chef an eager look as he waited for her answer and Kelly felt her stomach twist with nerves once again.

“Well there were a few hiccups,” Kelly said awkwardly.

“Like what?! Did you manage to finish the cake or not?” Roy asked, clearly panicking.

“We did,” Kelly reassured him, before sucking in a deep breath. Here goes nothing. She closed her eyes as she hesitantly added, “But I did have to modify the recipe in a few places.”

“What?!” Roy screamed, drawing many onlookers to the scene the goblin was beginning to make. “You modified the recipe during the competition! Do you realize how risky that is?! What if the judges don't like it! I could lose... again! I can't take another year of gloating from that villainous king!” Roy was starting to go into a full-blown panic attack, hyperventilating as he rubbed his clawed hands together in nervousness.

“Relax, Roy. I made the cake even better than before. We're still gonna win this for sure,” Kelly said smoothly with all the confidence she did not have.

“You better or you won't have a job!” Roy shouted, giving her a firm look and Kelly's hands clenched into tight fists to avoid losing her cool. So now he was threatening to fire her! Demoting her was bad enough but being forced to leave in shame like that… it was unthinkable.

“I got it, okay. Just let me do my job already,” Kelly said in a huff.

“Uhh, Kelly,” Marco spoke up nervously, flinching as all eyes fell on him. He gave them a sheepish grin as he said apologetically, “I know this might not be the best time but I think we're next up.”

“Good, we're done here anyways,” Kelly said immediately, turning her back on her goblin boss, her long hair whipping him in the face slightly. To her friends she added, “Now let's go guys, we got a competition to win.”

The others gave a quick glance to Roy before following after their friend, leaving the small goblin to mutter under his breath about the insubordination amongst his staff and how he really needed to stop hiring a bunch of disrespectful teenagers.

“Wow, I've never seen Roy acting like that before,” Marco mentioned, once they were out of earshot.

“That's because you've never seen him competitive before,” Kelly hissed, her blood boiling with rage towards her boss. “He becomes a whole different goblin. One year he nearly mauled a teenage street vendor for trying to sell hot dogs too close to Fang Tang's.”

“Yikes,” Star and Marco said as one.

“Yeah, yikes is right,” Kelly agreed, rolling her eyes.

“Sounds like you need a better job,” Tom commented.

“Well if this doesn't work out I might be in need of one,” Kelly whispered, her eyes flooding with worry.

“Don't worry, Kelly. You're gonna be great,” Star reassured the girl, putting a steadying hand on her back.

“Yeah, Kells, you're totally gonna blow them away!” Marco exclaimed brightly.

“Prepare to be blown away!” a loud and familiar voice called from up ahead and the group all turned to the judge's stand in surprise. The Pie King stood in front of the table where the three judges sat, giving them what could almost pass for a friendly smile if not for the sinister gleam in his eye. He had his hands behind his back, two Pie Folk ready and waiting at the cart behind him, watching their boss closely for his order. “For today I unveil to you a dessert so delicious, so unbelievable, so amazing that I guarantee you have never seen anything like it before!”

“Let me guess... it's a pie,” once of the judges said gruffly, looking bored and unimpressed with the long-winded speech.

“That's Emilio,” Kelly explained to the others, looking at the judge in total awe. “He's one of the most famous chefs on Earth and one of the most stubborn judges ever! He's incredibly picky. Getting him to like one of your dishes is close to impossible.”

“Well sounds like we don't have anything to worry about then,” Tom commented, a sly smirk growing on his face. “What are the odds he would like something that sneaky chef makes?”

“It is much more than just a simple pie,” the Pie King explained, unfazed by Emilio's cold demeanor. “I have spent weeks perfecting this recipe and now present to you my piece de resistance...:

Pie King snapped his fingers and his two lackeys ripped the fabric off of the tray, revealing the food that lay beneath it. It was indeed a pie, a very delicious looking one in fact, its crust cooked to perfection, just the perfect color of brown, with a layer of steam gently rising off of it and decorated on top with a few strawberries which looked like they had just been picked from the vine. But the part that caught Kelly and the others attention was the rainbow-colored filling that was inside it, some of it oozing out of the holes in the top. “The very first rainbow pie!”

The crowd of onlookers all 'ooed' and 'awed' at the sight, some even licking their lips in hunger, but Kelly and the gang could only stare at the dessert slack-jawed. “That's not their recipe!” Marco exclaimed in complete disbelief. “They stole your recipe, Kelly!”

“Yeah I can see that,” Kelly commented numbly.

“I cannot believe they are actually trying to pass that off as their own after all the hard work you put in,” Star hissed, her eyes narrowing in anger and she began to storm over to the judges stand. “I'm gonna put a stop to this right now!”

Kelly put up an arm, stopping the fuming princess from passing and the blonde turned to her with surprise. “Don't. It won't change anything. It'll only make things worse.”

“What but Kelly-” Star began to argue, only to be cut off by the Woolett.

“I know, it sucks,” Kelly said through gritted teeth, her voice tight with barely suppressed anger. She sounded like it was taking everything in her power to hold herself back. “But the Pie King is crafty, he'll just turn it around against us. Better to just let him have this.”

“Are you serious?!” Tom growled, his anger beginning to boil over. “So what, we just let him get away with this!”

“We don't have much choice, Tom,” Kelly responded, watching as the Pie King passed out slices of the pie to the eager judges. Of course she wanted to fight and take back what was hers. It was her recipe, after all, something she had worked tirelessly on and had been so proud to of made. But she had been careless and allowed it to end up in the hands of the greedy Pie Folk. She should have taken better care in safeguarding her secret recipe and now she just had to face facts and accept that her precious recipe was no longer hers. She just had to hope what she had made to replace it was somehow better.

But to her dismay the judges reactions were far from uplifting. They all seemed enamored with the pie, chewing the food greedily and nodding their heads as they wrote down their thoughts on the slips of paper before them. Even Emilio seemed impressed, his gaze softening as he took extra care and time to chew the treat, clearly in deep thought over the taste. When he did finally swallow, his face was totally unreadable. He scribbled something down on the paper, before saying in a businesslike tone, “Thank you, now move along.”

The Pie King bowed low before sauntering away from the table with a victorious grin, his minions following along behind them. He stopped right besides Kelly and he didn't even hide the shrewd smirk on his face as he said to the green-haired girl, “Good luck topping that.”

Kelly glared back and said through gritted teeth, “Just watch me.”

The Pie King made an indistinguishable noise that seemed to be a combination of a chuckle and a snort. “Sure you don't wanna drop out and save yourself the embarrassment.” He gave her a cheshire grin, his crooked teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

“Yeah right, like we'd even listen to anything you have to say,” Star snapped, speaking up for her friend while giving the Pie King a hate-filled glare.

“Especially since all you did was steal the secret ingredient from us,” Marco added, with an angry scowl. “Kelly worked way harder than you! She deserves to win, not you!”

The Pie King rolled his eyes, clearly growing bored of the conversation. “Well, we'll just have to see what the judges have to say about that, won't we?”

“Next!” Emilio shouted, his critical gaze landing on Kelly and she felt a chill jump up her spine. She gulped, feeling her stomach bubble with nerves, any semblance of control she once had leaving her the moment she was called on. She felt like the pressure was crushing her, the weight of all her responsibilities and dreams piling on her at once, making it difficult to breathe or move. She felt like she would crumble if a strong gust of wind hit her and as all eyes now fell on her, both onlookers and judges alike, she found her body had completely given up on her, movement an impossible feat.

But then she felt a hand on her comforting hand on her back, followed by a friendly hand on her shoulder and then a third hand on her arm, reminding her she wasn't in this alone. She was surrounded by friends who would help her face this challenge, who would stand with her pass or fail and she felt courage rise in her again. Kelly was able to turn her head in the direction of her friends and they all gave her a confident nod, silently telling her they could do this and Kelly smiled back at them, her drive restored.

And so, the Woolett held her head high and approached the judges stand, each step carrying her to her future but she welcomed it openly. Once she was in front of the three judges she cleared her throat, before speaking in the calmest, most controlled tone she had ever used, “Ladies and gentlemen, creatures of every dimension, me and my friends are here today on behalf of Roy's Fang Tangs-”

“Ah yes, wasn't that the same restaurant that tried to present discount Goblin Dogs last year,” one of the judges commented, her voice none too friendly.

But Kelly ignored the harsh comment, instead declaring, “Well this year I made my own original recipe.”

“Yes, yes and it's probably unlike anything we've seen before,” Emilio muttered, rolling his eyes.

Kelly, seeing words were not going to sway the judges' minds any, gave a small nod to Tom who pulled off the cover over the cake. Once exposed to sunlight the cake began to shine and shimmer, the thousands of grains of sugar lighting up and causing the whole courtyard to be covered in tiny spots of light. The crowd again was enchanted by the beauty of the cake, soft murmurs filling the air around Kelly. Star, Marco, and Tom all gave her thumbs up, happy this was going well so far. The judges remained stone-faced but the Woolett was sure their eyes had a hint of sparkle and wonder to them. Taking advantage of the hype, Kelly did a dramatic flourish towards her creation saying in a dramatic tone, “I present to you all the multiverse triple layer crystal cake! Each and every ingredient used comes from a different dimension blending together into one treat to celebrate our unity and companionship.”

The crowd hung on every word, the murmurings growing louder and more vibrant as Kelly let the attention soak over her. She hadn't expected this kind of reaction for something she made but it made her heart swell with pride, finally feeling for the first time ever like a real chef.

“It is quite a sight,” the woman judge said, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.

“Yes but the taste is all that matters,” Emilio commented, still not giving away even a hint of emotion.

“Of course, what's the point of a cake if you can't eat it,” Kelly said, smiling ear to ear. Nothing could faze her in this moment, she was on top of the world. Star, Marco and Tom began cutting up slices of the cake without a word, making sure to get all three layers on the plates before handing them out to the judges with small smiles. The group then moved to Kelly's side watching with held breath as each judge stabbed a fork into the sugary treat. Time seemed to slow as the bite of food was lifted up to their mouth before disappearing inside, all four teens on edge as they watched the judges silently chew.

Kelly kept an eye on the judges' expressions hoping to see some kind of indication they were enjoying her creation and to her delight they all seemed to like it, savoring the bite for as long as they could. When they did finally swallow, two of them began to furiously scribble something down, while Emilio simply stared down at his plate, deep in thought. Then he too wrote something down and said to the girl in a dismissive tone, “Thank you, next!”

Kelly and the others quickly moved back to the crowd, Tom pushing the cart out of the way so the next contestant could go. Once they were out of eyesight from the judges, the group all let out long breaths of relief and took a moment to relax. Marco bent over on his knees, trying to will his racing heart down to a decent speed as he commented, “Wow, that was intense!”

“Yeah no kidding,” Tom agreed, though he seemed a bit more at ease compared to the hooded teen, leaning against the cart with a tense expression. “Can't believe people willingly put themselves through that. It's nerve-wracking.”

Star seemed much less affected, her stance and posture calm, having grown used to dealing with unhealthy amounts of stress during her time on the throne. “Uh guys, you do remember our job is literally fixing the entire world, right?” the blonde royal commented playfully.

Tom and Marco shared a look before the hooded teen responded simply, “Well yeah but that's totally different. If Kelly loses this she doesn't have a job.”

Star giggled, shaking her head before planting a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek. “You are too cute sometimes,” she cooed, brushing his bangs out of his face. Marco blushed and looked away with an adorable little grin on his face. Star directed her attention onto Kelly who had yet to say a word so far and asked, “So, Kells, how do you feel?”

“Pretty good, actually,” the Woolett responded in an even tone, looking at peace. If she was stressing or worrying, it didn't show. “I think that went pretty well.”

“You think we're gonna win?” Tom asked with a competitive grin.

“I think we have a good shot at it,” Kelly replied with a confident nod. “But we'll just have to wait and see.”

“I bet they are gonna declare you the winner for sure!” Marco exclaimed, his eyes shining with naive brightness and Kelly couldn't help but smile at his innocent sureness.

“I hope you're right, Marco,” was all the Woolett could say in reply.

…

The next hour passed by at an unbearably slow rate, the four doing everything they could think of to keep their minds off the competition. They met up with Tad, Jackie, and Janna (who Tom did his very best to steer clear of) and luckily they were able to keep the gang sidetracked as the rest of the competition presented their cuisine to the picky judges. Kelly felt immediately more relaxed with Tad in her hair again, all the pieces of herself back together now that they were reunited. Still she had trouble focusing on a single word the others were saying as they talked and laughed in an effort to distract themselves. But Kelly couldn’t stop casting glances over at the judges table, shifting nervously in her seat. Tad seemed to notice this and reassured his girlfriend, saying, “Hey, no worries, babe. You got this in the bag.”

“I sure hope so, Tad, or I can say goodbye to my job,” Kelly muttered, crossing her arms in front of her chest, trying to hide her nerves as best she could.

“C’mon do you really think Roy is gonna fire you over some dumb competition?” Tad asked.

“It’s Roy, Tad,” Kelly hissed, leaning back heavily in her chair. 

“Oh… right,” Tad said sheepishly and Kelly let out a heavy breath of defeat. She buried her face in her palms, trying to massage her aching head, she was ready for this whole competition to be over, the sooner this was done the sooner she could relax, she had a three hour bubble bath in her future that much was certain.

“Hey Kelly, I think they’re about to announce the winners,” Jackie spoke up, snapping Kelly out of her thoughts and back into the moment. Kelly gave a quick glance in that direction and saw the judges whispering amongst each other, serious expressions on their faces. 

“Yep it looks that way,” Kelly muttered, rising up out of her chair, she felt her knees wobble a little but managed to keep her balance. Get ahold of yourself, Kelly, she mentally reprimanded herself. You’re a Woolett for corn’s sake! Act like one! The green-haired girl sucked in a breath forcing herself to relax (or at least appear to be) and made her way to the judge’s stand.

The others followed silently along behind her, not wanting to break her concentration. She seemed really focused. There was again a crowd of people that kept them from getting too close to the stage but they managed to find a free spot relatively close to where the judges had gathered. Emilio and the others seemed to have reached a decision, the serious expression they all shared tipping Kelly off and she felt her nerves spike. This was it. Moment of truth. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Emilio began, addressing the crowd and the moment he spoke a silence fell over the courtyard, all ears trained on his final decision. “The other judges and I have come to an agreement. This year's winner of Queen Comet’s Annual Mewni Bake-Off is…”

Kelly and the others all held their breaths, Marco crossing his fingers for good luck and squeezing his eyes shut, willing the judges to say his friend’s name. 

“The Pie King!” 

“WHAT?!” the group all exclaimed, their mouths dropping open in disbelief. Kelly was shell-shocked to say the least, the world around her almost fading to black, the applause of clapping hands fading to a dull roar, her own heartbeat pounding against her eardrum drowning out any other noise. It was as if her brain had completely shut down, watching numbly as the Pie King proudly received his golden trophy, flaunting it off to the crowd and sending Kelly snarky looks. But Kelly was barely aware of this. She was barely aware of anything. The only thing she could focus on was the simple and yet world shattering truth that she was faced with. She lost. All her dreams of being a professional chef… crushed. She felt tears form at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them away. She wouldn’t give the Pie King the satisfaction, since she was aware he was watching her closely. 

She could also feel her friends sympathetic stares burning into her back but she was too ashamed to face them. What was she supposed to say anyways? What words could possibly describe the soul-crushing despair she felt. She could feel Tad gently running a hand through her bangs, a gesture that would normally soothe her but right now....

“Kelly, I’m so sorry,” Marco said, placing a hand on her shoulder, his voice full of empathy and he was clearly suffering from his own despair at losing. 

“That is so unfair!” Tom exclaimed in a loud growl, his eyes flashing red with anger. “He stole Kelly’s secret ingredient and then still wins the whole thing! In the Underworld we would have ripped out his spine by now!”

The Pie King must have overheard them cause he gave them all a condescending smirk and even went as far as to wink at the teens. 

Tom’s cheekmarks were burning infernos at this point and it took all of his restraint not to light the thieving royal on fire. 

Star, however, had no such restraint. “That’s it!” she shouted, storming forward. “I’m putting a stop to this right now!”

“Guys, just forget it,” Kelly spoke up and the whole group froze, turning to her with surprise. “There’s no point,” she continued, her voice sounding pathetic even to her own ear. “I lost, he won and that’s that.”

“Only cause he cheated!” Star argued. 

“Want me to curse him?” Tom offered. “Cause I’ll do it.”

“Already on it,” Janna said, flipping through an old worn book with a black leather cover. Jackie quickly snatched it out of her hands, shooting her a warning glare. Until, the Pie King gave them another patronizing look and the skater handed the book back to her friend, glaring at the king in hate. “Fine, just don’t kill him,” she whispered to her friend. 

“Don’t you guys get it!” Kelly shouted, her hands clenched tightly at her sides and her body shaking in both rage and despair. “I lost because I wasn’t good enough! I thought I had the perfect recipe but I didn’t! And now I’ll never be a real chef!” Her voice cracked on the last word, the tears not threatening to spill. 

“Heck yeah you won’t,” Roy exclaimed, suddenly appearing beside her. He gave her a disapproving look, his arms crossed in front of his chest sternly. “I’m very disappointed in you Kelly. Thanks to you I get to face another year of that loser king taunting me!”

“Hey it wasn’t her fault,” Marco spoke up his friend’s defense, moving to her side. “The Pie King cheated and-”

“I don’t wanna hear any excuses!” Roy interrupted, his focus never leaving Kelly. “Maybe if you hadn’t changed the recipe without my permission this wouldn’t have happened.” 

Kelly said nothing, too numb to speak. She just waited for Roy to speak those dreadful words to her. 

“Kelly, I’m sorry to do this but you’re fired,” the small goblin said, no sympathy in his eyes. 

“Then I quit too!” Tad finally said, adding to the conversation for the first time. “And good luck replacing us! We’re two of your best workers.”

“Not anymore,” Roy replied, before turning his back on the group and storming away. 

Kelly nearly crumpled to the ground, hanging her head in shame as the weight of those words pressed down on her. She could barely breathe, it felt like all the air was being sucked right out of her lungs, like she was drowning in her despair. 

“Kelly, I’m so sorry,” Tom spoke up, his voice full of sympathy. “This never would have happened if I hadn’t lied. You, Star, and Marco would have won this thing if I hadn’t gotten in the way.”

“No, Tom,” Kelly spoke up, her voice tight but she gave him a friendly smile. “I’m glad you were part of the team. We never would have gotten the cake done at all if you hadn’t been there.” 

“It’s just so unfair,” Marco groaned. “We worked so hard and you deserved to win, Kelly.”

“Thanks, Marco,” Kelly muttered, looking tired and emotionally exhausted, heavy bags hanging under her eyes. “But I guess it wasn’t good enough. And now me and Tad are out of the job.”

“Maybe not,” Star said thoughtfully and Woolett turned to her with a startled expression. 

“What do you mean?” Kelly asked softly, barely daring to hope.

“Well Roy may not see your talent, Kelly. But I do,” Star said, flashing her an encouraging smile. “So how about you come work at the castle as our new head chef.” 

“Seriously?” Kelly exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face at the offer, all signs of fatigue gone as happiness filled her core. 

Star shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I already know we all love your food and you did say our current chefs could use some help.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea, Star!” Marco shouted, pumping his arms in the air in joy. “That way we can see Kelly all the time!” the hooded teen gasped as an idea came to mind, squishing his cheeks with his hands. “Me and Kelly could be baking buddies!” The boy was squealing at the thought. 

“But what about Queen Moon?” Kelly asked, fear flashing across her face. “Aren’t you worried she might say no?”

Star waved a nonchalant hand in the air. “Oh that’ll be no problem. Mom trusts my judgement. Besides she was really impressed with the work you did with Baby. And once my parents get a taste of your food they’ll be begging you to stay.”

“That would be…” Kelly began but no words came to mind, she was too stunned, too ecstatic for words. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Uhhh, a yes seems appropriate,” Janna suggested.

Kelly smiled, swiping a hand across her face to free it from tears. “Yes. I’d love to come work for you, Star.”

“Then welcome aboard!” Star said, holding out a hand to shake. Kelly received it gratefully, her smile incapable of growing any wider. 

“Thank you, Star. I promise I won’t let you down,” the Woolett said in a confident tone. She gave a quick glance up at Tad, squealing in excitement, “Tad, do you hear that?! I’m a real chef!”

“That’s awesome, babe,” Tad spoke up, giving his girlfriend a quick pat. “I’m so happy for you!”

“And of courseTad will have to be with you,” Star added as she remembered Kelly’s boyfriend. “I’m thinking something like… Royal Food Taster.” 

“Awesome,” Tad replied, nodding his head in approval. 

“Congrats, Kells,” Tom said enthusiastically. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks Tom,” the Woolett replied, giving him the smallest of nods, which he returned, a mutual understanding passing between each other. 

“This is so exciting!” Marco shouted, unable to hold back his joy any longer as he quickly tackled Kelly in a tight hug, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “This is the best day ever! One of my best friends gets to come work at the castle with us!” 

Star giggled at her boyfriend’s enthusiasm, finding his joyful outburst as adorable as he was. Then again, nothing about Marco wasn’t adorable. The blonde smiled softly to herself, knowing she had made the right choice. 

“Still a shame you didn’t win the contest though,” Jackie said, looking sadly over at the judge’s stand where the Pie King was still gloating over his victory. “That jerk really doesn’t deserve to win.” 

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Who cares? I still managed to impress the crowd and I’m a real chef. Winning some silly contest isn’t that important.”

“Does this mean you aren’t gonna compete next year?” Janna asked, giving her a knowing look.

“Oh no, I’m totally competing,” Kelly replied. “Only next time, I’m taking that trophy home with me.” 

“And we’ll be right there to help you,” Marco said, giving her a friendly grin. 

 “Never doubted that for a second,” Kelly replied, returning the gesture. 

The moment was interrupted though as a voice suddenly cut through the crowd, saying cryptically , “Everyone, I have an announcement to make!” All eyes turned to Emilio, the crowd hushing once more and the Pie King scowled as the attention was drawn away from himself. The chef had a serious look on his face as he explained, “Due to a recent discovery I’m afraid the Pie King is disqualified.”

The crowd all gasped and the Pie King’s face contorted in rage. 

“What?!” the greedy king shouted in outrage, storming over to the chef in a rage. “This is an outrage! How dare you take away my victory like that! Do you not know who I am?! I’m royalty! On what grounds do you have to disqualify me?!” The Pie King grabbed onto the man’s collar, bringing their faces so close together their faces were now mere inches apart, the greedy king narrowing his one eye in warning. 

Emilio didn’t back down though, keeping up a solid stance as he replied, “On the grounds that we discovered hypnoberries hidden in the pie you gave us. Meaning you forced us into making you the winner, Your Highness!” 

The Pie King’s face immediately flooded with guilt, his one eye widening in fear. Sweat began to drip from his face as he realized he was caught. He gave the disapproving chef a sheepish grin, releasing his collar and trying to smooth down the chef’s white coat. He let out a nervous chuckle, clearly trying to act innocent.  “Oops,” he muttered, trying to play off his crime like it was nothing. 

But it was clear Emilio wasn’t buying the act, ripping the trophy out of the Pie King’s hands and jabbing a finger off-stage, clearly indicating for him to leave. The Pie King grumbled in anger and stormed off the stage, crossing his arm in a childish manner. The Pie Folk quickly chased after their leader as he barreled his way through the crowd, pushing men, women and children out of his way without a care. 

The gang watched as the Pie King exited the scene before a loud chittering at their feet drew their attention downwards. The same monkey from before glared up at the teens, only to let loose a barrage of raspberries, spitting at them and then scampering away after his master. The teens could only watch stunned as their rivals in the competition left in a huff. Once they were out of sight, the group could only stand in silence, no words coming to any of them after the bizarre experience. 

“Well that was just embarrassing to watch,” Janna commented in her typical cryptic tone. 

The others nodded in response.

“Yeah, talk about your sore losers,” Tom scoffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Looks like that cheater finally got what he deserved,” Star added, a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“So, wait a second, does this mean there is no winner?” Marco asked quizzically.

As if to answer his question Emilio addressed the crowd once more, declaring, “Since our first place winner was forced to leave, that means this year’s new winner is Kelly of Fang Tangs!”

The crowd exploded into a barrage of applause and Kelly felt her mouth drop open in surprise. She could only stand there and gap, dumbfounded as the roar of cheers invaded her eardrums, making her heart swell. I won, she wondered to herself, the words not quite hitting her brain just yet. I actually won. It was a dream come true. More than she could have ever hoped for and there were no words to describe the pure elation she felt. Even Emilio gave her the tiniest of nods from on stage, recognizing her as a talented, worthy individual and Kelly didn’t think her life could get any better in that moment. 

“Kelly, you did it!” Marco exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “You won!”

“Congrats, babe!” Tad cheered.

“I’m so happy for you!” Star added, quickly hugging Kelly’s other side. Soon it was a group hug as the others joined in, even Tom somewhat reluctantly. They all couldn’t hold back their screams of delight at actually winning. 

“That’s my girl!” Roy said, hopping on stage and moving so he was standing right next to Emilio. He puffed out his chest in pride, a bright grin on his face. “I knew she could do it! I always believed in her!” He put his arm around Emilio’s leg, who gave the small goblin a warning glare and Roy immediately pulled away. 

Kelly’s eyes narrowed on the small goblin gloating and soaking in her victory and suddenly she knew what she had to do. She cleared her throat, before declaring, “Actually, I didn’t win.”

The cheering immediately stopped, all eyes turning to the Woolett in surprise. “What do you mean?” Star asked in confusion.

“Yeah, Kelly, they just said you won,” Marco explained to her, wondering if she had somehow not heard him. 

“No, they said, Kelly of Fang Tang’s won. And I don’t work for Fang Tang’s anymore so technically I didn’t win,” the Woolett replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Roy’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widening in fear. He quickly tried to wave it off saying, “Oh Kelly. You actually believed all that, haha. You silly goose. I was just messing around.” He quickly leaned in closer to the girl, whispering softly, “Look forget what I said, come back and work for me and I’ll double your pay, okay.”

But Kelly shook her head, staying firm. “Not happening..”

“Fine you drive a hard bargain. I’ll triple your pay and rehire Tad, too. I’ll even let you work in the kitchen more, promise,” the goblin said, rambling with nerves at this point, desperate to get her to agree. 

“Too little too late,” Tom said, moving to Kelly’s left and giving the goblin a smirking grin, crossing his arms slyly in front of his chest. 

“Yeah, Kelly’s with us now,” Marco added, from the Woolett’s other side, trying his best to mimic his cool friend’s demeanor but failing drastically. 

“What, no!” Roy exclaimed, panicking. Finally, he could think of no other option as he got down on his knees and begged the girl to change her mind. “Please, please, please! You can’t leave me! Not when I’m so close! Just think of all the good times we had together!”

Kelly shrugged. “Sorry, Roy. But I got a new job.” The girl gave a quick glance around at her friends, smiling sincerely at each of them before adding, “And I think I’m gonna stick with my real friends.” 

Roy deflated in defeat, giving his ex-employee a sorrowful look, his lip quivering against his will. But Kelly didn’t buy into the pity party, keeping a straight face as Roy sadly slumped away. Marco waited until the goblin was out of earshot before asking, “But Kelly I thought you wanted to win?”

“I do,” the Woolett said with no regrets in her face or tone. “But on my own terms, not Roy’s. He’d just spoil the victory for me.”

“Well then, I think you made the right choice, Kells,” Star said, giving her a proud grin. The others all nodded in agreement, some even voicing their support out loud. 

“Thanks, I do too,” Kelly replied, feeling confident in her decision.

Emilio, from on stage, cleared his throat to regain the attention, before asking the girl, “Sooo, you're saying you don’t want to win then?”

Kelly shook her head, before explaining, “That’s right. I’m dropping out of the competition.”

A murmur grew in the crowd, people in shock by the girl’s bizarre declaration. Emilio was stunned, his face showing uncharacteristic surprise as he stared at the girl, now at a loss for words. “Well then… I-I-” He stammered, unable to form coherent sentences. “I suppose, this year’s winner is our third place… which was…” He turned to the other judges for help. They quickly began skimming through the notes they wrote down, scrambling for the right name. They were not prepared for this and their haste caused them to struggle. Finally, though one of them seemed to have found the right name and sighed in relief. 

He quickly handed Emilio the slip of paper, the chef acknowledging his fellow judge with a simple, “Thank you, Gordon.” Emilio cleared his throat before, reading off the name on the paper, saying for the third time that day, “And so this year’s actual winner of Comet’s Annual Mewni Bake-Off is… Gustav of Gustav’s Bites!”

“Yay!” A voice cheered from the crowd, two skinny arms pumping into the air in joy. The crowd parted to let the boy through, watching as he ran towards the stage to receive his award. There was a scattered mix of claps this time, most people still confused by what was happening. But Gustav was too excited to care, letting out whoops and shouts of joy as he sprang up onto the stage, beaming ear to ear. Emilio held out the trophy for him to take and the boy eagerly accepted it before giving the gruff man a tight hug. Emilio’s body went stiff, once again at a complete loss of what to do. Finally he settled for awkwardly patting the boy’s back. Still, he looked beyond relieved when the young chef let him go. 

Gustav held the trophy up high into the air, tears of joy streaming down his face, as he yelled at the top of his lungs, “I woooooon!”

Kelly and the others clapped for the young teen, all of them smiling brightly in his direction. “Good for him,” Star said sweetly.

“Yeah, he deserved to win,” Marco agreed, nodding his head.

“Better him than that rotton king,” Tom grumbled in annoyance.

 Kelly placed her hands on her hips, giving Gustav a long look, her head cocking slightly to the side before she finally said, “Not bad.”

“So how about we get out of here and go get Kelly officially certified as our lead chef,” Star suggested.

“Finally,” Janna said, not needing to be told twice as she began to make her way out of the courtyard. “Seeing all this food and not being able to eat it is a fate worse than death.”

“Tell me about it, I’m starving,” Jackie agreed, putting a hand over her rumbling stomach. 

“Well, what do you say, Kelly?” Marco asked, giving his friend a hinting look. “Feel like teaming up to cook one more dish for the day?”

“Sure, it’ll give me a chance to show off my skills.”

“Tom, you in too?” Marco asked his friend.

The hot-headed teen gave them a long look before he shrugged and replied, “Sure, why not?”

Star and Marco cheered in victory, high-fiving each other. “Yeah! Team Stomco is back at it again!” the hooded teen yelled.

“We are not calling ourselves that,” Tom muttered dismissively. 

“So Kelly, got any big plans now that you’re the head chef of Butterfly Castle?” Jackie asked, giving her friend a curious look.

Kelly’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she rubbed her hands together in anticipation, an evil grin beginning to spread across her face. “Oh I’ve got a few ideas in mind,” she replied cryptically. 

Finally, Kelly felt more free than she had ever been. She was no longer forced to work under the goofy and eccentric Roy, she was free to pursue whatever. She could bake to her heart’s content and she could already imagine all the amazing dishes she would be able to make now that she was in charge of her own staff of chefs. And boy did she have plans for her new staff. She was gonna whip those guys into shape or die trying. She was determined to not only run the kitchen right, she was gonna be the best dang chef Butterfly Castle had ever seen! 

She had been dreaming of such things for so long for an opportunity like this to come along, a dream which until a few hours ago had been entirely out of her reach. But now, it was finally a reality. And it was all thanks to her friends.

The girl took a moment to look around at her group of chosen companions, listening to them in silence as they all talked and laughed and joked with each other. She watched as Star said something flirty and Marco blushed beet red, hiding his face under his bangs. She watched as Janna poked Tom in the arm, causing him to flare up in anger, only to be distuighed as she then booped his nose, his face growing hotter than the surface of the sun. She smiled as Jackie’s laughter filled the air, giggling at her roommates bizarre attempt at flirting. She felt Tad’s weight pressing down on her head, reminding her that no matter what she wasn’t alone and she was loved.

And in that moment, Kelly couldn’t help but think that contest or not she was the real winner of the day. And her friends were all the award she needed. 

[raendown]

A commission from @officerjennie for a friend! 

Pairing: TobiramaItachi Word count: 5077 Rated: T+ Summary: Itachi and Tobirama get a cat. They didn't really mean to. They certainly weren't prepared to.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Meow and Furever

They hadn’t actually intended to get a cat. If not for their own collective lack of creativity they would never have even been inside the shop that day. Social niceties dictated they bring some sort of gift to Hashirama’s house-warming party that weekend but neither of them were any good at buying gifts for other people; such was the main reason they had a long standing agreement to the limit of one gift each during the holidays. Without any better ideas they had come to the conclusion that they would instead purchase gifts for Hashirama’s many dogs. That was just the sort of cute gesture he would adore and it came with the added bonus of not disappointing any human recipients. 

So off they went to peruse through aisle upon aisle of nonsense toys that made an entire cacophony of noises when squeezed or shaken. It was standing at the end of aisle twenty-seven with a plastic hotdog between his hands that Itachi spotted the beast who would change their lives forever. 

“Tobi,” he murmured from one corner of his mouth. When the other did not respond he reached out to nudge lightly with one elbow. Tobirama grunted, looking up from comparing two different squeaky donuts. 

“What is it?”

“Look.”

He did. And what he saw was quite possibly the ugliest cat he had ever come across in his entire life. Situated behind glass in a wall of cages designed to attract potential pet parents while also keeping the animals safe, a pair of amber eyes glared back at him in a way that spelled death. Or possibly begged for treats. It was hard to tell under the absolute explosion of ginger fur and the massive jaw. 

Almost before Tobirama could process the man had even moved Itachi was across the aisle and all but pressed against the glass barrier, fingers coming up to trace patterns in the air for the angry ball of fluff to follow with its eyes. The store employee standing nearby gave them a side glance that practically smelled like a sales pitch. She watched with dollar signs in her eyes as the giant orange cat stretched out both front legs and yawned, showing off uneven teeth sticking out in all sorts of strange directions, then pattered daintily closer to the glass where it sat and resumed staring at the brave human who dared to approach.

“What on earth happened to its face?” Tobirama wondered out loud. As though it heard him, the cat turned to look at him with both ears swiveled forward as best they could over the crumpled folds of skin. Despite its obvious feline roots one could almost mistake it for a pug with a face that squished.

“Poor genetics,” the nearby employee piped up. “He was born that way. It’s put off quite a number of potential owners.” 

“I think he’s beautiful,” Itachi breathed. 

When the cat looked back in his direction he cooed and wriggled his fingers enticingly. Tobirama sighed. After several years together he knew his partner very well and he knew the look in those dark, beloved eyes. Come hell or high water they were going to take that animal home. Oh he could put up a fuss and dig in his heels, he could come up with a dozen logical arguments why they shouldn’t or couldn’t, but when Itachi really wanted something he had ways of being quite convincing. All of them were very underhanded. None of them were the sort of thing Tobirama wanted strangers to witness in the middle of a public pet shop. 

Still, he had a reputation to maintain. With as stern of an expression as he could muster he simply growled, “No.”

“But look at him!” Itachi whipped about to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“I am,” Tobirama said. “He’s as ugly as sin.”

“He’s perfect.”

“The answer is no, Itachi, we are not taking him with us. We don’t have anything for a cat at home. He would destroy the furniture we only just finished paying off!” 

Despite knowing this was a battle he would inevitably lose Tobirama folded his arms with every intention of standing his ground. 

An hour later they were trooping out the front door of the shop with half a dozen bags of assorted feline paraphernalia and a plastic carrier containing one very smug orange monster. The inside was meant to be lined with blankets for extra comfort but after the third was ruined before it could even make it halfway inside the staff decided that perhaps it was best they keep anything soft far away from those sharp claws until the thing was no longer their problem. Tobirama said a silent goodbye to the sides of his couch even as he watched Itachi settle the carrier across both knees and murmur soothingly through the grated door. Incredibly, he did not get hissed at.

For the entirety of the drive home the two new cat parents discussed their options for names. On the adoption forms Itachi had written down the first thing that came to mind simply for the sake of being able to take him home quicker but that was one thing Tobirama had successfully put his foot down on. He refused to call out ‘Butternut Squash’ whenever he inevitably got angry at the cat for something. They tossed a lot of options back and forth and by the end of the drive it was narrowed down to two different options. 

“I would have thought you’d be more excited about ‘Tang’,” Itachi mused. “It’s close enough to the word dang that you could almost feel like you’re swearing.”

“True. Unfortunately it reminds me of that awful drink powder my brothers were all obsessed with when we were young.”

“Ah yes. That would be why I rejected ‘Clifford’. I remember it a little too well from a show my own brother used to enjoy.” He frowned briefly, though it faded when his new monster gave off a sort of rumbling sound that might have been purr or growl, it was impossible to tell. 

Pulling in to the driveway, Tobirama gave a sage nod. He’d never liked that show either. “Alright so what are we going for? I’ll leave the final decision up to you; are we calling him Winston or Rohan?”

He didn’t get an answer until after they had fought their way out of the car and in to the home with their many large bags. Itachi set the carrier down on the kitchen floor and then sat beside it to coo through the door soothingly. Whether or not it worked was hard to tell. Before opening the door to let their new family member roam free he paused to crane his neck up with a smile. 

“Would you consider another option?” he asked. 

“Seriously?” Tobirama lifted one eyebrow. “We just spent half an hour narrowing this down and you want to throw in a new contender?”

“Tesla. We could call him Tesla.”

“...because all that fur makes him look like he’s been in some sort of electrical accident?” 

“Precisely.” As if to prove the point he’d already made Itachi squeezed the latch and twisted, swinging the little door open, then beamed with a parental sort of pride as their newest addition came stumping out of its carrier in a gait that reminded Tobirama very uncomfortably of his brother’s best friend. 

True to his proposed name, however, the cloud of orange fur surrounding the cat’s massive bulk stood out from his body in raggedy clumps that gave a very good impression of being recently electrocuted. After pausing to rub himself up against Itachi’s knee almost incidentally he took a few cautious steps and lifted his nose to sniff the air. His misshapen little nose wriggled in time with his ears, swiveling front and back while he tried to take in as much information as possible about this new environment. Both humans watched him take a few more steps-

Only to plop his bottom down on the linoleum and declare the whole adventure business to be too much trouble. Instead he stretched out and rolled over to put all four paws in the air. 

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean,” Tobirama murmured. 

“Maybe that he feels safe here already?” Hesitating very briefly, Itachi reached out and dared to run his fingers through the wild hair covering the belly on offer. “Oh. Oh he’s so soft!” 

“So clumpy, you mean. I wonder when he last groomed himself.” 

His partner gave him a stern look. “Quit insulting him and just tell me whether or not you like the name!” 

“Yes, I think Tesla is a good name for him,” Tobirama gave in. It wasn’t a lie, he did think it was a good name and it definitely appealed to his nerdy side, he was just a little too fond of the way Itachi’s nose wrinkled whenever he was exasperated. He was a little too fond of many things about this man. 

Tesla himself seemed to approve of the name and he showed this by rolling heavily back on to his feet and strutting away from them both with his tail held high in the air. His short hesitant footsteps were surprisingly delicate for a creature of his size. Just as Tobirama was beginning to think that perhaps adopting him wouldn’t be quite as big of a change to their lives as he had initially suspected Tesla paused to lock his gaze on to the dishes piled up by the sink. With both of their families stopping by for visits over the past week there hadn’t been much free time to wash the dishes just yet so the stacks were getting just a little wobbly. That, of course, is precisely what caught Tesla’s attention. 

Before either of them had time to do more than gasp with prophetic despair Tesla crouched down and launched himself upwards straight towards the tallest and most wobbly stack of dishes on the countertop. It was only by the grace of some god or other that all the bowls and cups he smacked in to face first were each made of plastic. A good thing, too, as they all immediately came cascading down towards the floor amid shrieking yowls of surprise. Tesla’s little claws screeched against the kitchen floor as he landed only to shoot out of the room in fright, abandoning his new parents to the task of cleaning up his very first mess. 

Tobirama felt he was being incredibly generous by waiting until after they had spent five minutes chasing waywards cups that really wanted to roll their way to freedom before turning to his partner with both eyebrows on the upper limits of his forehead. Unfortunately for the sassy remark he’d been composing in his head, Itachi beat him to the punch. 

“He lived his whole life in that shelter,” he reasoned. “A pile of dishes is probably something he’s never seen before; he couldn’t have known that would happen!” 

“Don’t think logic will save him from my wrath every time,” Tobirama muttered. 

Gathering up as much dignity as he could, he set all his gathered dishes down and swept out of the room. Now would have been a perfect time to actually wash the dirty cutlery and so on but he was much more concerned with what else their fluffy new resident could have gotten in to. Five minutes was a long time for a cat to be loose in an unfamiliar environment. All it took was a couple of visits to any of his brothers’ homes to know that pets were their own class of natural disaster.

As it turned out, his instincts were correct. Barely two steps past the kitchen Tobirama broke out in to a run as a terrible ripping sound reached his ears. When he skidded in to the living room it was to find Tesla halfway up their living room curtains, although by the look of the long rips he’d probably made it quite a bit higher before the polyester gave up its structural integrity. Granted, those curtains were ugly as ugly as he was and only remained in the window because they’d been a gift from Itachi’s younger brother at some point, but that didn’t make the prospect of replacing them any more pleasant. 

“I should leave you there,” Tobirama snapped. Tesla wriggled until he could tilt his head for a very cute and innocent meow. 

“What happ- oh! He’s stuck! Can you hold the curtains still so I can get him down?” Itachi inched around their cluttered living room to reach the window where he began stroking down the cat’s back, hoping to sooth him. 

Tesla honestly didn’t look like he needed much soothing. He purred to have such gentle affection, a sound that could be compared to a dying lawn mower, and continued to hang in place as though such had been his intentions all along. It took the two humans working together several minutes to detangle all four sets of claws so they could set the cat back on the ground, whereupon he immediately leapt on to the couch and began kneading the blanket Mito had crocheted for Itachi as a birthday present several years back. 

“You’re not going to stop him?” Tobirama asked incredulously. “He’s going to pull out all the threads and leave holes!”

“It’s crochet, it’s already full of holes. No one will notice.” 

“Mito will notice.”

Like he’d been struck with lightning Itachi launched in to action, crawling over furniture to reach for Tesla and very gently encourage him to leave the blanket alone. Evidently having his activities interrupted was grounds for declaring war in cat language. The moment his claws were once again detached Tesla hissed wetly at them both and took off down the hall to disappear in to yet another new room. Both men hurried after him.

One cat, Tobirama thought to himself as they came to a skidding halt outside the bathroom. It was only one bloody cat. If he didn’t already know the exact devastated expression his partner would give him for doing so he would give up now and toss the bloody animal outside in to the garden. Gently, of course, because he was actually pretty fond of cats himself. But he was also fond of maintaining an orderly home life and while the cat he’d taken care of growing up had been docile, almost demure, it hadn’t exactly taken him a lot of time to realize this one would not behave the same. They may have chosen his name for the way his fur stuck out at odd angles but it was becoming very clear that Tesla had lightning in his veins as well. Tobirama could already predict many nights being awoken by an attack of ‘the zoomies’ as his brother called it.

“Ah! Tesla! Don’t eat that please!” Itachi hurried forward to rescue the bowl of sweets he kept on his side of the bed for the rare occasion he got a craving. “I don’t think those are good for you.” Tesla meowed curiously and made a valiant effort to follow the bowl, determined to continue inspecting the contents. 

“Just let him sniff it and maybe he’ll leave it alone once he knows what it is,” Tobirama suggested. 

“But what if he tries to eat one?” 

With a sigh Tobirama looked down at the cat stretched up on his hind legs and shook his head. “Then I suggest putting it inside your nightstand for now. Come on, you, let's show you where your litter box and food are. Maybe that will calm you down.” 

Tesla gave a very loud protest when he was picked up without further warning. As good as he’d been in the carrier, he didn’t seem to appreciate being swung freely through the air. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t trust him to keep his claws to himself just yet and so he opted for holding the beast out in front of him like a stinky sack of potatoes rather than cuddling him up close as he would with any other cat. Considering the size of him it was no surprise that Tobirama’s arms began to feel the strain long before he finally made his way in to the laundry room where they planned to set up the litter, figuring this was the best place for any possible stinkiness. 

Only after he had arrived and found himself in the middle of the room did he remember that they hadn’t actually had time to set anything up just yet. 

“How much do you love me?” he asked in a flat voice. From behind he heard Itachi cough in a poor attempt at covering up a bit of laughter. 

“Enough to lock you in here with him while I go get everything ready.”

Tobirama sighed despondently. It was probably for the best. Leaving Tesla in here alone would probably result in some kind of disaster. Reluctantly and with much pouting, he agreed, watching the door close them in like a prisoner might watch the door to his jail cell slam shut. When they were alone he set Tesla on top of the washing machine and wrinkled his nose in irritation when the cat immediately began pawing at a stack of clean laundry. He supposed he should say goodbye now to the idea of ever being cat hair free again. Not even a lint roller was going to save him from this explosion of puff. 

By some merciful twist of fate it only took Itachi a few minutes to set up the food and water dishes in their kitchen and fill the litter box, something he did right outside the door. The sound of him pouring litter just a plank of wood away drove Tesla absolutely mad and set him to scratching at the door until finally Itachi opened it.

“Clearly he’s already decided which of us to attach himself to.”

“Well can you blame him?” Itachi carefully set the box down and buried his fingers in orange fur. “From the sounds of it I was the first person to ever give him a chance. Just look at this face, who could ever help loving a face like this?”

If not for the fact that he was overly aware he was making the exact same expression as the cat, Tobirama would have had some very different answers to that question. Instead he only darkened his scowl and turned away. Stupid animal. As soon as his partner spotted the thing he’d known they would end up taking it home but it was only now hitting him just how sleepless, fur-covered, and lonely his future was looking. The shame was probably the worst part. He was jealous of a cat. A cat. Well, more of an orange monster that was clearly plotting to steal all of Itachi’s time and affection away from him. 

Doing his best to consciously smooth his face in to something more neutral and unrelated to cat based jealousy, Tobirama cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we be showing him his litter box so he knows where it is? That’s supposed to be important.” 

“Oh, right, yeah.” 

“So maybe you should put him down, then?”

“But listen to him purring…” Itachi gave him a tiny smile that blossomed in to a full grin when he laid his head down against Tesla’s side to listen to his monstrous purrs from up close. 

With a huff Tobirama nudged the litter box. “Just put him in it.”

It was already happening. The stupid beast was already stealing Itachi’s best smiles, the really soft ones normally reserved just for him when the two of them were all alone. And he was already feeling stupid for letting it get to him. Tobirama wondered if it would be a little too childish to bury the stupid thing in litter while it was still clean just to have what petty revenge he could; it wasn’t as though Tesla would really understand, after all. Stealing Itachi away wasn’t exactly premeditated. 

Nor was it real, the man was still right there and he would no doubt still have a part of his large heart reserved for the one who shared his bed, it was just that Tobirama was already fairly sure their bed had just gained another occupant. 

“Come on little one, like this!” Itachi used the litter scoop to dig through it like he was teaching a child something new. 

“I think he knows how to bury his own shit,” Tobirama grumbled. “The store said he was box trained.”

“What if this isn’t the brand they used? Change can be confusing for anyone.” 

“Oh for- I’m going to make dinner.” 

So he did. Tobirama ignored the bemused questions that followed him out in to the hall, calling back over his shoulder that keeping up with Tesla’s explorations was Itachi’s responsibility for now as he himself stomped off to the kitchen while trying not to be obvious about said stomping. 

Irritated as he was, he chose not to make anything too complicated for dinner, not wanting to let his distraction affect how well he cared for his beloved partner. He definitely had an advantage in this arena. Tesla was great and all but his paws probably weren’t all that useful in the kitchen - not to mention he would coat anything he touched in long ginger fur. Not very tasty for humans. 

Eventually as he went about his business the familiar motions of chopping and stirring and fiddling with their faulty stove dials helped center him, calming the silly emotions he hadn’t been able to help. There was something about the simple domesticity of housework that never failed to bring him back in to himself. Probably because housework didn’t require much of his brainpower and so allowed him plenty of time to work through his thoughts without any expectations or outside pressures. Tobirama opened the dishwasher to pull out his favorite set of miso bowls and admitted silently to himself that he might have overreacted to getting a cat. Sure he usually loved cats and yes he had very much enjoyed having one as a child but he and Itachi had lived alone together for close to a decade at this point, their home had become a place where he knew that the rest of the world could fade away and he could envelope himself in nothing but the quiet man who stole his heart from the very first date. It was a little embarrassing to realize that he’d grown so attached to that concept that even as simple of an addition as a pet could make him feel threatened. Itachi would love him no less. Pay him no less attention. Really there was nothing to worry about. 

Almost as though he could sense that a bit of mental peace had been reached, Itachi came wandering in to the room just as Tobirama was pulling down some glasses. He insisted on setting the table, for which Tobirama was grateful, and in only a couple of minutes they were both seated together devouring a simple yet delicious meal. The kitchen was Tobirama’s domain and his talents in that area only grew with each year. On the other hand Itachi hadn’t learned to cook until he was nearly thirty and his talents mostly included bowling water. 

When Tesla came wandering in to the room with a plaintive yowl Tobirama found it in himself not to glare at the sight of his partner leaping up immediately to guide him towards the cat dish. He supposed the animal deserved to have dinner as well and they might as well eat at the same time. A small fragment of his mental peace was shattered when Tesla began to eat, however, and he realized the stupid thing snarfed down its food with a litany of disgusting sounds almost like he were gargling it. Just because he accepted that the beast would be living here didn’t mean he had to like the thing. 

“Thank you for agreeing to let him come home with us,” Itachi said as he slid back in to his chair. Tobirama grunted. “I can’t imagine how it must have felt to stay in that place for so long with only a tiny cage to live in and never have anyone love him.” 

Rather than answer all Tobirama could do was grunt again and stir his miso aimlessly while trying not to feel guilty for fantasizing earlier about tossing the thing out. 

Dinner was quick, the clean up after even quicker, and even though it was probably a bad idea Tobirama decided that the rest of the evening would be his own, determined to ignore any shenanigans their new addition might get up to. Several people had told him over the years that he was too uptight. He would show them. Of course he knew how to relax, how to let the small things go. How much damage could one animal do in the short span of a single evening? 

After the past couple of hours he already knew the answer to that question; he chose to ignore it. 

Never having been a large fan of most popular TV shows, he spent the rest of his evening curled up in one corner of their large couch trying not to leap up and investigate every crash or yowl or quiet scolding word. Listening to his partner follow the cat around while Tesla continued learning this new environment did make him feel slightly guilty. Not guilty enough to actually go help though, not when getting the damn thing had been all Itachi’s idea. Sometimes he could be a nice guy but he certainly wasn’t that nice. Instead he combated his helpful urges by sinking farther and farther in to the cushions with every loud noise until he was all but buried between them and tried his best not to imagine what chaos was being made of his neat and orderly home. Whatever got misplaced he was sure Itachi would at least try to clean it up. 

By the time his phone went off to tell him he should probably go to bed - a daily alarm he’d been using since college when his study habits grew wildly unhealthy - his efforts to relax hadn’t been nearly as successful as he would have liked but he wasn’t feeling quite so twisted up in knots as he had been before dinner. Tobirama called a few vague words down the hall to let his partner know he was tucking in for the night, pleased to hear Itachi call back that he would follow in a few minutes. A man of his word, he was in the bedroom getting changed when Tobirama came back out of the bathroom, teeth freshly brushed and flossed. 

Since Itachi always took so much longer to perform his nightly ablutions Tobirama had plenty of time to slip under the covers and squirm about to find a comfortable position. He didn’t often move around much in his sleep but the older he got the more prone he was to aching limbs if he didn’t fall asleep in just the right position. Just as Itachi came out and crossed the room to turn out the light Tobirama at last found the perfect spot, spread out on his side just close enough to the center of the bed that when the other man crawled under the sheets he was able to fit himself right in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips. As much as he liked to pretend that cuddling was something he only did for his partner’s benefit, it did help him sleep most days. Tobirama was grateful that slumber was such a private activity. There was no need for anyone else to know that under his gruff exterior he was nearly as sappy as his older brother. 

Like he often did, Tobirama had trouble falling asleep. Listening to the sound of Itachi’s breathing evening out relaxed him, of course, but he still found himself distressingly awake to hear the sound of their bedroom door creaking open ever so slightly. A scowl touched his face when he felt the end of the mattress dip under a tiny weight. 

“Do you really have to?” he grumbled under his breath. 

As though in answer Tesla gave a low meow and trotted a full circle around the lump their bodies made together under the covers, looking for the perfect spot to lie down. No choice could have been more surprising than the one he went for. Tobirama was left blinking rapidly at the back of Itachi’s head when he felt soft fur press up against his neck; almost immediately his entire frame was practically shaken with the force of Tesla’s raucous purring. He didn’t even like the stupid thing but of course he was the one it wanted to cuddle with as they all slept through their first night together.

That, of course, was when it hit him. He understood at last why his partner had fallen so deeply in love with this creature and why it had been so important that they take him home. If ever there had existed a cat form of Tobirama himself it would be Tesla. Coarse and unrefined, prone to explorations and a curiosity that was never quite sated, he himself was exactly the sort of person many others would pass up without a second thought. He was grumpy, he was cantankerous, and he wasn't much to look at. But at the end of the day when it was only him and the ones he loved Tobirama was as soft as melted butter. If he could purr then he certainly would have every time he fitted himself around Itachi’s warm and welcoming form. 

“Alright, fine,” he murmured, shifting so Tesla could curl around his head a little more comfortably. “You can stay. Just to be clear, though, I was still here first. And don’t you forget that.”

He didn’t get much of a reply but he wasn’t really expecting one. Tesla merely continued to purr, Itachi continued to dream, and Tobirama decided that he didn’t mind expanding his family just a little bit. Of all the possible choices for a pet it did warm him inside to know that, in a way, his partner had chosen to fall in love with him all over again. 

[breezeinmonochromenight]

I was challenged to rewrite this prompt into something a little more serious/fleshed out with a few inputs from a friend:

Note 1: Why am I still here? Just to [make myself] suffer?

Note 2: This was supposed to go up the day before yesterday, but every time I get Metal Gear asks I just [vibrates uncontrollably and writes an essay]. So, sorry ‘bout that to the anon asking.

Note 3: Higgs is unapologetically on his full creep shit in this. So. Consider that fair warning.

—

Of course she’d get caught wandering through Homo Demens’ territory on her way to deliver a fucking pizza. That alone was bad enough luck for a lifetime. But, in an even more unfortunate turn of events, of course one of those terrorists just had to be the same guy that just couldn’t leave her alone on these god-forsaken deliveries to the middle of nowhere. 

The Man in the Gold Mask that she’d had multiple run ins with wasn’t just ‘one of them’, either. Oh, no. She could never be that lucky. Of course he just had to be the leader of the fucking pack, to boot. The entire situation would have made her laugh hysterically, the cosmic irony of it all proving too much for her already fraying sanity, had the business end of a rifle not currently been digging into her temple with the slightest shift in movement. 

Unsurprisingly, the ter — she couldn’t bring herself to even think the word, because thinking it confirmed that she’d been fraternizing with a monster — Higgs liked to bloviate in front of his lackeys just as much as he did around her. She could only count the seconds passing by; could practically feel her delivery getting colder through its packaging. She hadn’t been paid for this delivery, and yet,  she could feel it being snatched from her hands with each lost moment. Her thoughts inadvertently had her jaw clenching, brows furrowing into a glare at no one in particular. The anger at her current situation and grief over the unfortunate nature of Higgs’ real identity caused a roiling her gut so intense, so immediate and all-consuming, that she found herself half tempted to nudge her guard and see if she couldn’t take an early exit out of the situation.

No pay meant no resources, and no resources meant, well... she refused to be in a ‘no resources’ situation ever again.

She wasn’t the same dirty, starving little lost girl any more. Wouldn’t be. Couldn’t be.

(And though she’d never admit it, she’d grown accustomed to his sudden appearances and self-insertion into her life. He was a random variable that interrupted the stagnancy of her days.)

(He was almost delicate with her when the rest of the world had not been.)

(He was a... friend, reluctant as she was to admit it, and now that had been taken away.)

(She was so tired of things always being taken away from her.)

—

“...Darlin’, I don’t much care for the look you’re giving me or my... associates.” Higgs’ drawl was lazy, almost bored in tone as he came to a stop in front of her.

Hearing that pet name finally interrupted her brooding.

She blinked, fully snapping back to reality when she felt sting of the the rifle muzzle pointed at her digging its way into her temple a little more. Wincing at the resulting thin line of blood trickling down the side of her face from the new cut and the gravel digging into her knees, she flicked her eyes up to meet his expectant gaze as lowered himself to a crouch, their eye contact never breaking.

Well, shit. This was bad.

Had Higgs been speaking to her directly?

Whoops.

“Whatever.”* It was entirely dismissive in tone, but she was spiraling quickly, and couldn’t bring herself to care. If this was how she was going to die, she might as well show some backbone and die with a little dignity. Go ahead and get it over with. “Maybe I really don’t like assholes like you holding me up.” 

Was it a stupid thing to say in her position? Absolutely. But what else was there to do? Apologize for wallowing in her own misery and zoning out? Beg for her life? 

Yeah, no.

Fuck that.

Her life really wasn’t worth much, anyway.

—

Higgs sneered through his masks at her, hidden face beginning to lose its composure at a rapid rate. It was taking everything in his power to maintain his even facade toward her before removing the physical masks he hid himself behind, especially when he’d noticed in the porter’s eyes that she’d drifted off to a place very far from her current reality. 

It felt like a dismissal. Made him feel powerless, like he had for so many nights with his da— when he was a child. And that had infuriated him, especially coming from the one person he couldn’t take his mind off of; that he kept finding his way back to.

Why this reckless little porter got under his skin so easily, he didn’t quite know.

But she did, whether she meant to or not. And the hold she had on him was powerful — so much so, that he could often physically feel her emotions as she was experiencing them. Rarely were they positive, but they served as an easy guide back to her, wherever she may be.

That was why, not long ago, when an incredibly pleasant, persistent tingle down his spine had nearly doubled him over with arousal, this so-called ‘connection’ of theirs had gotten infinitely more irritating to him.

Investigation led him to her private room at Mountain Knot City and, more importantly, to the sight of her being far less mouthy than she’d ever been with him toward some fucking no-name porter... One that she was currently riding late into the night, so desperate in chasing her release that she didn’t notice — or perhaps, worse, didn’t care — that he’d decided to pay her a visit.

Heh. Higgs supposed, in retrospect, that he shouldn’t go there. It was rude to speak ill of the dead, after all. That, and the poor fuck’s corpse had effectively wiped out Bridges Corpse Disposal. So, realistically, he shouldn’t be too angry.

(Except he was. He was still absolutely fucking seething.)

(If only she hadn’t looked so goddamned enticing with her skin glistening from a thin sheen of sweat in the low lights; hair partially shielding her face and biting her lip to hold back the noises of pleasure-pain and her pleas to a god he was sure she didn’t believe in.)

(If only the way she looked with her toes curled and back arched skyward hadn’t effectively rooted him to the spot, unable to look away from the sight of her strong thighs trembling and parting just enough that he could see a tiny, heart-shaped birthmark sitting high on the inside of one of them.) 

(If only the thought of claiming that little heart with his teeth before he buried his face in-between her thighs hadn’t left him so painfully, achingly hard that he’d had to bite down on a gloved knuckle to keep from howling as he spilled into his hand later that night. An ultimately useless act, given the perfect visual he now had of how she’d look riding his cock, controlling the pace of her hips until he was finally ready to let her tip over the edge — an image that had him rutting into his hand again in record time.)

(If only, if only, if only. If not for so many if only’s, he’d have killed her ‘acquaintance’ in the act that night.)

Logically, he should have killed her, used her body for a voidout long before now. Forgotten her name and everything about her. She knew his face now, after all, and the last thing he needed were witnesses.

But he couldn’t. There was something about her he couldn’t let go of. Something that made him want to completely devour her, mind, body, and soul. Something about her defiance toward everyone and everything despite being dealt a shit hand that made him see a bit of himself in her.

Still, even though he had no intentions of killing her, he couldn’t let mouthing off go completely in front of his men.

“A word of advice, darlin’?” Higgs gripped her chin hard as he spoke, forcing her to look him in the eye as he ran a gloved thumb over her full bottom lip.

She refused to say anything or to shy away as Higgs tugged his masks off with his free hand, dark eyes catching his blue ones and staring him down fiercely. He kept their little contest going for an extended moment, amused, before leaning in close to her ear, positively delighted at the small shiver he sent through her body.

“Trigger fingers can slip. So might want to work on on keeping that mouth of yours shut, quickly,” Higgs growled out, casual drawl giving way to something much darker, before jerking her head away from him. He was pleased at the further surprised widening of her eyes in response. Flicking his tongue out, he dragged it down a in wide stripe on her cheek, the coppery tang of her blood welcome on his tongue. “...because I’d just hate to see this gentleman put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours.”

He lingered for a few seconds longer, too close to her graceful neck and that remarkably smooth looking skin of hers. She smelled good, sweet, even— faintly of soap and something else he couldn’t identify.

Funny, given her sour personality. 

Still, despite his efforts at unnerving the porter, nothing even close to fear was registering on her face — only a look of shock and revulsion, maybe even annoyance with him. “What the f— Look, man, I’m not interested in your business. I just wanted to pass through to deliver a fucking pizza. But I’ll shoot myself it’ll make you just stop. fucking. talking.”

He barked out a genuine, surprised laugh at the unexpected, honest response. He certainly could do that, but given the look in her eyes and the way jaw was set, he knew it wasn’t an act — she’d actually do it.

And that’d be no fun for either of them. She was even more feisty than he’d originally thought. Confusing. Interesting.

And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to see more.

“Bring her back to my tent and let her get cleaned up, but don’t let her leave,” he ordered her guard her guard before turning his attention back to her. “The pizza girl here and yours truly are going to have a nice n’ friendly little chat about everything that’s happened here today.” He smirked at her near-instant change of expression from completely stone-faced to puffing out lightly freckled cheeks in anger, ready to hurl expletives at him.

Yeah.

Yeah, she was definitely a keeper.

(He was internally mourning the loss of a perfectly good pizza the whole time, of course, but its delivery girl was just too appetizing in her own right not to entertain for a little while.)

(He’d just have to make another order and make it more than worth her while to deliver it. An offer she couldn’t refuse, if he recalled the quote from the old pre-Stranding movie correctly.)

(Cold pizza was for the dogs, after all.)

[stoiccthulhu]

Update time...actually, why should these be titled? I mean, whats the point of writing a title to these if all I’m going to do is ramble on and on with no specific topic of discussion, just several things on my mind?

Election day 2020 happened yesterday and I voted for nobody. And if I would have voiced my polling choice I would have voted for the candidate I see as being the best option in line with my thoughts and opinions concerning the state of the world at the moment as well as the future.

You can insert whomever you want to believe that would be based off an assumption and a look at my internetting footprint, but you would be wrong, but that’s part of the fun of interpreting what I’m writing down for you in the future. Trying to figure out what I’m actually saying. While it makes complete sense to me, because you don’t have the hidden key phrase you can’t decipher what it is that I am putting to digital paper.

I get it, I’m an asshole.

And this isn’t, completely, a justification towards my actions but a direct result of your intervention within my life that has caused this behaviour. Think of it sort of like a self-fulfilling prophecy. You interpreted me, came back, and intervened in any little way imaginable. Negatively or positively, but no matter your justification, it was still an intervention that didn’t need to happen because, as Malcolm once said, “Life, finds a way.” And just like destiny, it will find a way. But enough of all that crazy talk, you’re here because you want to hear all about my political leanings and to unravel the mystery as to this anonymous random on the internet’s preferred presidential choice in the election that has already passed.

But before I do that, let’s get some shit off my chest because I tend to swear and if you don’t like it, go the hell away. I’m sick of people being sensitive over everything. As if they’re looking for any reason to complain or get offended nowadays.

“The internet has given everyone in (the world) a voice, and evidently everyone in (the world) has chosen to use that voice to bitch about (anyone they find offensive)” -Holden McNeil (with some modern revisions)

And that’s why I’ve chose not to be PC in this thing, whenever I feel the urge to put pen to paper, relatively speaking.

Like, let’s see who I can offend right off the bat.

Women need to start getting punched more and treated like human beings instead of china dolls. If you’re a pro-gender equality advocate, and you’re a woman, you need to be willing to be punched in the face for doing ANYTHING a man would otherwise be punched in the face for. They also need to be held accountable for the shit they do to everyone. I am a strong supporter in believing that no matter what women say about women controlling the government and such, while women have great communication skills, they have the worst track record when it comes to not being aggressive, biologically speaking.

In the wild, whom are normally the more aggressive of the genders? Whom is usually the one more protective of the young? more willing to go out to hunt?

To be fair, I have a very limited knowledge when it comes to the animal kingdom. But, I mean, the Black Widow is normally depicted as being a deadly female, the female preying mantis devours the head of her mate after they’re done mating. There are so many, example, of females being worse than males in nature its hard to ignore. And, to add religious believers to the list of people offended, if you’re not ignorant to science and knowledge, or at least the pursuit of it, we evolved over a long period of time from apes, which, by nature, makes us, humans, not white people, black people, yellow people(to stick to the color scheme), brown people(gotta throw the other Asian people’s in there as well), animals. Highly evolved and communicative animals, but animals none the less. Was that supposed to be one word? Nonetheless?

Doesn’t matter. So, if you stick with my logic, you’ll see that women are terrible. Terrible. But, because men like to have sex with females as opposed to men for the most part in today’s society women have a stranglehold on the pelvic reason of an entire world, which means they can make anyone, for the most part, do anything they want and see things their way, even if they’re saying the sky is as green as the skies of Namek. An example of this is perfectly laid out in a clip from That 70′s Show. Kelso and Hyde prove women can’t play fight because they’ll turn it real, for whatever reason, just because they’re girls. To prove this, Kelso and Hyde play fight, and it looks bad, but they stop, laugh, and hug it out. Then Jackie and Donna play fight, starting out playfully, but then turning it into hair pulling and needing to be pulled apart. Both visibly angry.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUwxxJvtQnI

(OK, my memory was bad, it was Eric and Hyde, and it was set up differently, but the concept is still there.)

And I get it, they’re actors, being paid to do what the script is telling them to do, but it is true. Girls are worst during puberty as well, from what I’ve heard. And I get it, I have a biased standpoint being a male, but in today's culture that shouldn’t matter, it’s about what’s being said, not my gender.

Now that women are out of the way, lets also as black people, but not specifically black people, its more of a systemic form of racism that I believe shouldn’t exist. In which, if you are not of that specific race, you are not allowed to say the n-word. What makes me giggle right now is that with just that sentence every single person reading this probably got a bit riled up. A bit ruffled in the feathers because I’m not a black person. And if you weren’t, you are now, knowing what you know now.

So let me provide you with some context so you can understand how I’m not racist at the same time as saying what I said above.

I enjoy rap music and hip-hop, as do a lot of people throughout the world, black or otherwise. Which, in this current climate, would be considered one of the forms of cultural appropriation we tend to sweep under the rug because it doesn’t fit our narrative of being offended about something. Because I like rap music I tend to learn the word to all of the songs I enjoy listening to. Because I learn the words to the songs that I enjoy listening to I sing along. But, because I’m not black, I have to ruin my flow to edit myself just because the artist chose to use nigger in their song. Which, as an artist, is their choice.

Now, why should I have to edit myself? I have tried to replace it with “wigger”, but because of the closeness of the words, I felt that would still be offensive if I was ever overheard by the wrong black person who, understandably, would be mad if they heard a pasty white boy say the word nigger without any context.

I just think, unless the person is using the word in a hateful way, directed at the person the speaker either personally knows or is conciously speaking about, as in “i hate that nigger” or “you’re a nigger”. If it’s something like that, totally beat the shit out of that racist.

But if you’re singing along to Wu-Tang, and you say:

I be that insane nigga from the psycho ward I'm on the trigger, plus I got the Wu-Tang sword So how you figure, that you can even fuck with mine? Hey, yo, RZA! Hit me with that shit one time! And pull a foul, niggas, save the beef for the cow I'm milkin' this ho, this is my show, Tical! The fuck you wanna do on this mic piece, duke? I'm like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root PLO Style, buddha monks with the owls Now who's the fuckin' man? Meth-Tical It shouldn’t be labelled as being racist.

There is more rattling around in my head right now, things that I’ve been thinking about for years, and things that have been bothering me for just about as long, but for now those were the two that fell out when I vomited all over my keyboard.

And if you’re offended. Get over it. You need to start.

Oh, I almost forgot. I was going to tell you whom it was I was going to vote for yesterday if I had voted for anybody. Jokingly I wanted to write-in “Obi-Wan Kenobi”. But in truth I was going to vote for Biden. Not because I thought he was the better candidate, but because there was not a good option at all, he was just the lesser of two evils. This election has made me decide I want a third option when it comes to my politicians, or at least, get rid of political parties all together. We spend so much time infighting and holding each other back instead of up no real change has happened in the past decade? Longer? And whatever change that does happen gets nitpicked apart so much it becomes a shell of its former self. But, enough about that. I have a baby demanding eggs and waffles and I still need to tag this.

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT/Baron Jitsu fanfiction: Dating… With Children - Chapter Eight

(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment or kudos)

Plot:  Benjamin Draxum hardly considered himself a man of high social standing. Not because he was uncouth or unworthy of it, mind you, but simply because he didn’t have much of a social life. Hard to have one when he usually spent his days at work, cooped up in a lab for so long that he often had his lunches in there, and his nights at home reading or doing research for more personal projects. But perhaps meeting handsome semi-retired movie star - as well as his four young sons - could change all that…

((Apologies for the long wait! Writer's block hit me hard this time around... But not only have I finally finished this chapter, but I managed to get a couple drabbles written out as well to make up for the lack of content, which I should have posted shortly. Anyway, hope you enjoy both them and this chapter! ^v^ Also, shoutout to @halloweennut, whose own celeb AU inspired a few small bits for the beginning chunk of this chapter, heh))

Lou could still remember when he was a younger man, fresh off the set of his first movie. A passion project from an already decently famous director with a foreign, previously unknown actor as the face of it. Lou had been so excited when he first walked into that small LA television studio, only half listening as his manager tried to ‘suggest’ answers to certain possible questions, and instead just tried to take it all in. Not only was he going to be a movie star, but now he was going to be on one of the most well known talk shows in America! Talk about a good head start! As was to be expected, he'd ended up completely acing his interview, charming both the live audience and viewers at home and cementing himself on the path to stardom.

But that had been years ago, the excitement and ‘newness’ of it all being long gone, even after taking a bit of a break from the business. As far as Lou was concerned, you be on one talk show, you've been on them all.

Still, the experience wasn't necessarily a bad one - especially when the studio put in the extra money for a decent backstage spread. Licking his lips slightly, Lou picked up another ham and cheese-topped cracker, quietly munching on it as he watched the various stagehands pass by. He was moving over the dessert side of the table when one of the show’s managers finally approached him. “Five minutes until you’re on, Mr. Jitsu!”

“Mm,” Lou nodded. He took a cookie to go and then stood at the designated spot behind the curtains, knowing the drill well. Popping the treat in his mouth, he took a moment to smooth out his outfit - a crisp white shirt with a light blue jacket and pants and a loose red tie, making the whole thing a sort of call back to the jumpsuits he used to wear - and make any last-minute quick fixes to his hair before the commercials ended.

Finally, the stage lights came back on just as the cameras began rolling, and the audience cheered as their favorite New York hostess strolled back on stage. “Welcome back, everyone,” Jessica grinned, soaking in the cheers from her audience. Jessica Jacklynn was more of a local famous favorite than a national one like other late night talk show hosts, but she still had plenty of fans thanks to her cool demeanor and always being on the search for exciting drama with her guests. “We’ve got a pretty special treat for you all tonight, a man who I'm sure needs no introduction, but I guess we’ll give him one anyway-” The audience gave a bit of a laugh at that. “Here to celebrate the seventeenth anniversary of his film, ‘Teriyaki Shakedown’, give it up for… LOU ‘JITSU’ HAMATO!”

Huh, it wasn't often people included his real last name - and even less often, if ever, his real first name. Most people just introduced him by his stage name. Heck, Lou himself usually did that too, not having much of a connection to his family name and only using it to sign official papers. ‘Guess she did her homework,’ Lou thought as he walked out onto the stage, a professional grin plastered on his handsome face.

He struck a couple ‘action poses’ for the cheering audience and shook hands with Jessica before setting down on the dark red couch opposite her desk chair. (From what he heard, Jessica was somewhat famous for actually standing on her desk when things got really exciting, and wondered if she'd end up doing that tonight at some point.)

“So Lou, seventeen years,” Jessica began, smiling sweetly now, “It’s been a while, though I bet the time just flew by for you, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Lou nodded, “Seems like it was only yesterday I was tossing stunt doubles into bowls of soup.” The audience laughed again. “Heh, it's kind of funny that that film is more remembered than my first just because it started my catchphrase. But hey, it's a good catchphrase! And apparently still pretty applicable to non-soup situations.”

“Mmhm,” Jessica nodded, “Well, we all love a good action-hero catchphrase. But, we aren't just here to celebrate the past, we want to know what you've been up to since! After all, it has been a while since your last film-”

“Yeah well, you can thank the box office for that,” Lou joked, earning more laughs.

“Fair enough, but I understand that you've had other things keeping you busy as well?” Jessica inquired, leaning in a bit on her desk, “Things like trying to take care of four little boys, maybe?”

Lou’s smile faltered ever so slightly as he nodded. “Yes, I suppose you could say that…” Lou never minded the spotlight of the press, and could even handle the paparazzi! But when it came to his kids, well… It was a whole different story.

Even without reporting it to the press, the news that Lou Jitsu had adopted four young sons had still broken a few days after he signed the papers. Almost immediately, news and celeb magazines wanted info and pictures. They'd pop up like a nasty swarm of gnats, hoping for several pictures and wanting to ask the boys questions after questions.

The first time it happened, it caused poor three year old Mikey to hide his face in his father’s chest, obviously freaked out by all the sudden people and flashes, while his only slightly older brothers were still a bit too surprised and confused to know what to do, the three of them crowding around Lou’s tall, protective legs. It took threatening to throw their cameras into the nearest tree to get them to finally leave, though even that didn't discourage much of the media circus.

He had accepted one interview, hoping to relieve some pressure, from a local New York newscaster who simply wanted a cute fluff piece from the semi-retired action star (as well as to get the full story first before any other media outlet could). ...Unfortunately, said newscaster ended up being a huge jerk, doing everything from asking if Lou purposely chose to adopt ‘minority kids’ (as if Lou himself wasn't a minority? The guy was an idiot too) to asking if he was trying to ‘prove something’ to other celebs who had adopted kids by adopting so many at once, even going so far as to imply that his kids were simply charity cases. Honestly it took all of Lou’s self restraint not to just rip the stupid poofy blond hair right off the guy’s head by the time the interview was over.

And of course, once he allowed one reporter to talk to him, everyone else just tried even harder to get an interview too. It eventually took Tang Shen - as well as several other people in the industry who considered themselves Lou Jitsu’s friends - threatening the various members of the paparazzi on social media, as well as the public finding some other piece of celeb news to obsess and gossip over, to finally get it all to stop somewhat.

Though, thinking back on all that, Lou was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake accepting the invitation onto Jessica’s show, possibly inviting that whole mess back into his life... However, Jessica was calm and professional as she continued. “I think we all remember a couple years ago when we all heard that action superstar Lou Jitsu was suddenly a father, and for what it's worth… We couldn't be happier for you!”

Lou blinked. “Oh… Well, thank you!” He nodded, quickly composing himself, “Yes, they are very good boys, even when they don't always listen. But hey, what kid does?”

“True, true,” Jessica agreed, “And I bet they love having fun just as much as you did, eh Lou?”

Lou chuckled. “Well, fun for them, and maaaybe a bit more on the side of stressful for me. But what can I say? I love my boys, even after the hundredth time I’ve told them to take off their shoes before running into the house.”

Chuckling along with his listeners as he relaxed on the couch, he began spinning various anecdotes about fatherhood and his new family that were funny and even relatable as they were heartwarming. The audience was practically eating out of his hands - not that Lou really cared, he just liked talking about his boys! Though, if he could entertain people with them then, hey, two birds with one stone.

“-and oh, you should've just seen the mess they made, and the faces they made when I caught them. They knew they were in big trouble - they got cheese and sauce on the CEILING! It was unbelievable!

"Ha! I can imagine!"

"Yes, and all over a ‘which pizza topping is the best’ argument! I wanted to be mad, believe me, but at that point, it felt like all I could do was laugh!" Lou shook his head at the memory. "Heh, I am sure I must have seemed crazy, but then again I was pretty crazy for leaving four kids under ten in the kitchen alone anyway. And it is like I told Ben, if you are going to have a food fight, you might as well do it as a child so you have a better chance of getting away with it-”

“Wait,” Jessica stopped him, “Ben?” She raised an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “Who's Ben?”

Again, Lou’s grin fell ever so slightly. Had he said Ben’s name? Shoot. “Well, ah… A-Anyway, after all that-”

“Oh, don't tell me you've been holding out on us, Lou!” Jessica told him, her eyes curious and mischievous as her now-curious fans throwing in a couple encouraging cheers, “Come on, you can tell us! Is there a new certain someone we should know about? Someone we already know?”

“Heh, I doubt it...” Lou mumbled. Draxum definitely wasn't the public type, he barely even had a social media page! There was no way he'd want his and Lou's 'story' shared with the whole city, much less the rest of the world. However, even knowing this, he also knew that his hostess wouldn't let it drop if he tried to play dumb and completely deny it. So, he decided to just choose his words carefully.

“I… may have started dating again-” The applause and surprised shouts were practically thunderous- “but, I want to respect my boyfriend’s privacy. It is what he deserves, after all. He is fun, smart, good with the boys-” he cracked a smirk, “Definitely handsome, aaaand… That is all I am going to say.” And his smirk only stubbornly remained as groans filled his ears.

“Are you sure you can't give us anymore?” The so-called Queen of Drama inquired, batting her eyes a bit, “I just know our audience would-”

“Now, I believe your people found some deleted scenes from the studio that you wanted me to give some insight on?” Lou asked, not even looking at her now, effectively ending the conversation, “Because, hey, isn't this supposed to be about ‘Teriyaki Shakedown’? I have got plenty of stories about that story too, you know! Does anyone here want to hear about how I came up with my Hot Soup finisher? Maybe a little demonstration too, if we can find some soup?”

Much to their hostess’ dismay, the audience unanimously answered, clapping and cheering once again. Remaining professional as ever, Jessica just smiled as she tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Well, I guess we know what we’re doing after commercials. Stay tuned for more stories and stunts with our favorite butt-kicking star, Lou ‘Jitsu’ Hamato!”

----------

“Great show tonight, Ms. Jacklynn!” “Wonderful job, Ms. Jacklynn!” “That was such a good idea, finding an excuse to get the Lou Jitsu on the show!” “I'm just surprised he said yes! Feels like it's been forever since he's been on something!” “And yet the moment someone says his name, his fans go totally rabid! Now that's what you’d call someone with star power!”

Jessica nodded as she continued making her way through her stage crew, only briefly acknowledging their comments and praise. Even the executive producer of the network only got a minute of her time. “I just really have something I need to get done before I head home,” she explained, not bothering to reveal anything else as she finally made it to her private dressing room.

She sighed, kicking off her high heels. Hosting a show was nice, but now it was time for the real fun. After all, content for shows and blog posts didn't just fall out of the trees most of the time. Sometimes, you had to go searching for it… And other times, you had to make it yourself. She had been hoping that with enough flirting, perhaps she could make some viewers see sparks between her and the semi-retired star, leading to plenty of publicity for the both of them and possibly start certain favorable rumors. But this… This was MUCH more interesting!

“Funny, Lou,” Jessica mused as she turned on her laptop, “You never used to shy about who you dated…” Even before she got into the showbiz game, she could remember seeing and hearing about all the various arm candy he’d have at movie premieres, award shows and Hollywood parties. Whether they were a new face on the movie scene, some beautiful model, a rich heir or heiress or even a co-star, Lou simply had no problem showing them off and having fun in both public and private for however long the fling lasted.

So what made this ‘Ben’ guy so special? What was he trying to hide?

Jessica went to Lou’s social media page first, naturally. She ended up scrolling through four months worth of content, but unfortunately came up with nothing. All Lou seemed to post were cute pics of his kids, random opinions on random things, Lou Jitsu memes and the occasional food or outfit pic when he had something to show up. Guess he was just as private about his personal life online as he was in person. Jessica scowled a bit at this, but didn’t give up yet. There was information out there, she knew there was! She just had to dig a little deeper…

She began searching for anything Lou Jitsu related on all social media sites. Most of it was useless - a fan mentioning they were doing a #JitsuMovieMarathon or someone taking a pic with an obvious Lou Jitsu impersonator. Those were the most frustrating. But finally, after over an hour of searching, she finally found something.

The Facebook page of a nobody with a followers number that indicated that anything he posted most likely stayed trapped within his circle of friends no matter how interesting or cool it was. There, she found a picture of Lou in a fighting ring with some guy she didn’t know, the caption explaining that this guy just couldn’t believe someone as awesome as Lou Jitsu was fighting in their gym.

But that wasn’t the most interesting thing. No, what was most interesting was the slightly blurry face in the background of the pic, tall with auburn hair and eyes wide with amazement. Jessica hummed to herself. He could’ve just been another fan… But there was something about him that seemed to claim otherwise.

This hinting feeling was indicated about twenty five minutes later when she saw the tall, redhead man again in another picture, this time on Twitter. It was slightly out of focus and far away, and Lou was wearing sunglasses, but it was them, there was no doubt about that. “Can’t believe it! A celeb date night on MY shift!” the girl had tweeted, adding an obnoxious amount of emojis and wishing the former star luck before adding “#HotSoupLove!” .

Jessica smirked. Hot Soup Love, indeed. “Now we’re getting somewhere…” It took some cross referencing and a lot more digging - whoever this guy was, he had little to know social media presence whatsoever, which made it even stranger that he was dating LOU JITSU of all people - but finally, she found him.

His stern, serious picture stared back at her as his information was revealed, thanks to the research lab website that introduced him: Dr. Benjamin Draxum, head of Genetics and Biochemical Research. “Doesn’t exactly seem like the ‘dating’ type, or the type of guy that a guy like Jitsu would go for,” Jessica commented, opening up a word post on her own social media page, “But hey, that just makes it all the more interesting.”

She always did love being the first one to break the story on any potential celebrity gossip, and this was certainly a story twist that no one would see coming…

----------------

Draxum’s eyes shot opened at the sudden alarm. He groaned, hating how early these Monday mornings always seemed to be. His eyes then shifted towards the windows, his body still lazy enough to ignore the alarm. Even behind the curtains, he could tell the sun was just barely starting to rise. So then, why was his alarm-?

It was then his tired brain finally realized that it wasn't his alarm going off, but his simple ringtone. He reached over and picked up his phone, and then glared at the screen when he saw it was a number he didn't recognize. Why they were calling over an hour before he had to wake up, he had no idea. It was probably a telemarketer, but just in case it wasn't, Draxum reluctantly answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello,” a seemingly human voice replied, “Are you Dr. Benjamin Draxum?”

“Yes, and who is this?”

“My name is Samantha Vics. I work for the NYC Inquiry and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

A newspaper? (Or, maybe a magazine, he didn't know for sure given that he didn't really read many of either.) Well… He wasn't expecting that. Better than a telemarketer, at least. “About what?” He asked, wondering if perhaps something happened at his lab and they needed a statement from someone who worked there.

“Well, I was hoping you could tell me a little about your relationship with Lou Jitsu.”

…………… What .

“Excuse me?” He asked after several seconds of silence. Maybe he just misheard-

“Your relationship with Lou Jitsu. You are dating him, aren't you? I was hoping maybe I could ask you a few questions about that. How you two met, how long you two have been dating, what it’s like dating an action star as famous as him-”

Draxum took a deep breath through his nose. “...Excuse me for asking but, which section of the paper did you say you worked for?” He was just barely managing to keep his tone even.

“Oh, it's not a paper, sir. It's more of a local and national pop culture and celebrity-focused magazine, why-?” Draxum hung up, releasing his sigh. He wanted to go back to bed for the next hour and pretend that the whole incident was just an annoying dream.

...That's what he would've done at least, had it not been for the two more phone calls he received that morning. One from some talk show host named Jessica, and another from the Today Show, asking for a comment to use during their ‘Trending Now’ segment. Those two simple words sent enough dread down into Draxum’s stomach to switch his phone to silent, effectively ignoring it as he got ready for what was sure to be a long day.

His temper only rose when he ended up running into more people outside of his apartment, at least three or four. More ‘reporters’ - weren't these people supposed to be researching and reporting REAL news?! - trying to ask him questions, as well as ordinary people passing by, whispering as soon as they saw him and watching him as if he were some sideshow. He lost track of how many times he said “No comment”, practically shouting the words by the time he got to his car. At least they were smart enough to get out of his way once he got behind the wheel.

He didn't drive to work right away though, curiosity finally getting the better of him as he instead pulled into an empty alleyway where he could check his phone - four missed calls now - in peace. All he did was type in his name into a search engine, and about half a dozen articles from various blogs and gossip rags came up.

“Beautiful Brawn Meets Brain! Lou Jitsu Dates NYC Doctor!”

"Just WHO Is Jitsu’s New Boyfriend?!”

"Hot Soup Love!”

"Is Lou Jitsu Into Scientists Instead of Supermodels These Days? These Pics Would Say Yes!”

“What the hell?!” Draxum scowled, reading title after title before finally clicking on the earliest post. Honestly it was more speculation than an actual article, with the only ‘facts’ being the two pictures that included both him and Lou, as well as his name - which was only used once. After that, he was just referred to as ‘Jitsu’s Boyfriend’ or ‘The Scientist’. That definitely irked him.

And one of the photos… That was the diner they liked going to. The diner that would no doubt be swarmed often now in the hopes of getting another shot at seeing the Big Apple’s newest celebrity couple, the public and media alike most likely not caring if they disrupted a date. This made Draxum’s heart ache as much as it made his anger rise. He really liked that diner...

“How did they even find out about us?” He wondered out loud as he continued scrolling through. Sure there were the pictures, but something would have to prompt people to go looking for them, given they weren't originally posted by paparazzi. It was then, in the back of his mind, he remembered Lou saying something about having a talk show gig.

His eyes narrowed as he immediately switched from the Internet to texting. “We need to talk,” he typed.

Thankfully, Lou didn't wait long to reply, his words serious for once. “I know… I have to take the boys for school, but I will meet you at your lab for lunch. Maybe before then I can call up a couple people, do some damage control.” So he already knew. Draxum texted back that he would see him then. Just as he started his car back up, he received one last text.

“Ben… I am so sorry.”

Draxum didn't reply back.

The drive to work was average, save for his still-set-to-silent phone getting more unknown callers. He would have to start blocking numbers soon, maybe even change his number. He scowled just thinking about it as he walked up the walkway to the research building. It was ridiculous, couldn't these people just take a hint and leave him alo-?

* CLICK ! CLICK !*

Draxum’s whipped his head to the side so fast it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash. His eyes had just barely caught the tail end of a flash of light, and as he stared at the seemingly-normal bush that sat near the parking lot, he could see hints of black and plastic within it. Unable to help himself, he clenched his fists. “HEY!”

The scrawny figure didn't hesitate to move, jumping out of the bush and dashing down the street with their camera in tow. Had he not been in work clothes, he might have chased the photographer down. But he was as tired as he was furious, so he settled for simply letting the lab’s security desk attendant know that he'd spotted a ‘suspicious person’ outside.

His interns thankfully were smart enough not to say anything, stiff in their seats and already engrossed in their daily tasks. That's what Draxum tried to do as well, to just pretend that everything was normal despite feeling like the entire city - the entire world - now had their eyes on him, desperate for any little scrap they could get. ...Naturally this made focusing on work fairly hard. In between in-putting data from current tests and doing research on upcoming projects, he’d switch to social media, reluctant yet too curious to stop himself.

By this point most of the ‘articles’ had stopped, given that there was no new information coming in and nothing new to add. But that didn't mean people didn't have anything to say - the comments sections were an absolute nightmare...

Some people claimed Lou was only dating him so Draxum could (somehow) get his kids into a good college, or free medical care (he wasn't that kind of doctor, morons). Others simply called Draxum out for only wanting to date Lou for his status and money, with some speculating that he was only faking being a doctor. They wondered what they saw in each other, how Lou could possibly think of ‘going out with someone like that’. Every quality or accomplishment Draxum had or might have had was just ripped to shreds by fans and gossipers alike, all of them agreeing that the famous action star could certainly do better.

Draxum wasn't the type to care what people thought of him. ...He had to keep reminding himself that. That these opinions were worthless in the grand scheme of things… Still, even the least social people could still feel the crushing weight of words and insults if enough was thrown at them. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, his anger more numb now even as his disheartened frustrations remained.

The morning hours of his shift took an eternity to get through, but eventually the noon hour rolled around, and there was a knock on his doorway. “Hey,” Lou quietly greeted, holding up a logoless bag. With the media circus going on around them, it made sense that his boyfriend would pick making a sandwich for him over stopping somewhere and buying one. Draxum nodded, thanking him as he took the bag, but didn't open it.

As soon as they were alone in the room, his interns heading to the cafeteria faster than he had ever seen them go, Draxum asked his first question: “Why did you think it was okay to just… To just tell the whole WORLD about me without even-?”

“It was an accident,” Lou told him, as apologetic as he was defensive, “I-I was on that show, just telling stories about the boys and, well, your name just… slipped out.” He winced, silently berating himself for such a stupid mistake before continuing. “But I swear to you, Ben, I did not give them anything! All I said was that I was dating someone and left it at that. I didn't say what kind of job you had, or any personal information about you, or even your last name!”

Draxum was still scowling, though at least it didn't seem to be directed completely at his boyfriend now. “And it would seem they didn't need you to tell them that stuff, when they could just find it on their own.”

“Hmph, right…” He still wasn't sure how Jessica was able to find all she did about Draxum with just a first name, but he did know one thing: He was NEVER going on her show again. ...Unfortunately, whether he made a reappearance or not, the damage already seemed done. “Ben, I… I am so, so sorry. I never wanted something like this to happen! Especially not to the man I care about.”

Draxum stared at him for a moment longer before sighing. “I know… And I forgive you.” It would be unfair to keep blaming him for such a minor mistake.

Lou managed a weak smile at that. “Thanks… So uh, I was able to get in touch with a couple of my old managers, and they are going to try and get the story pulled.” Though by this point, it was already far too late. The original reporters had done their job, and it wasn't as if they could control every single person on social media. They had lost the war before starting a single battle. “I, I could still make a public statement. Not sure how much it would help, but…”

“Couldn't hurt to try,” Draxum agreed. Still, while Lou didn't even attempt to ask it, it still hung in the air between them, and the idea of it still sort of broke Draxum’s heart. Even worse, he didn't even have a solid answer to it.

“So, uh… A-Are you still coming over tonight?” Lou asked, “Because if you are, there is this back road behind my house, which may help with-”

“I think,” Draxum suddenly began as he forced himself to not look away, already feeling cowardly enough as is, “that I need some space.”

Lou’s glasses were at just the right angle to catch the fluorescent lights of his lab. Between that and the shading from his poofy hair, Draxum couldn't quite tell what his expression was. Still, the man’s voice remained steady. “Take all the time you need,” he quietly insisted. He then said his goodbyes, and walked out the door - and both of them hoped it wasn't for the last time.

Draxum stared at the open space where his boyfriend had stood, and nearly followed him out the door - but stopped when his phone lit up yet again with another unfamiliar number. He glared at the device, blocking the number before slamming it down on his desk.

Some space between them was for the best… It was for the best...

----------

The nice thing about the media machine was that new news became old news pretty quickly.

Sure, it still took him a couple days and blocking at least a dozen more numbers, but eventually Draxum stopped getting calls asking for interviews or comments. His co-workers made sure to stay out of his way as well, even though he could tell they were VERY curious and we're just barely holding back questions. And even if Draxum still made it a habit to look over his shoulder while walking around, the attempts that various members of the paparazzi made to try and get a shot of him also became few and far between.

After all, there was no point to the pictures if he was the only one in them...

“...” Draxum sighed, his eyes once again going from the book he was reading (a book he'd already read twice over, and was only trying to force himself to read it again as a distraction rather than for pleasure) over to the coffee table, where his phone sat, its silence adding to the much too quiet atmosphere of his apartment. Part of him almost wished it would ring or alert him about a text, but he knew it wouldn't happen. It hadn't happened for nearly two weeks.

“I wonder how he's doing,” Draxum mumbled to himself, eyes going from the device to the dark sky outside his living room window. He wondered about Lou and the boys both… He was sure they’d had to deal with twice as much hounding from the paparazzi, if not more, but he really hoped that they were enjoying some well-deserved peace now too. With days of silence from both sides of NYC’s newest hot couple, the media and celebrity gossipers alike eagerly moved onto the next scandal, leaving #HotSoupLove in the dust.

It was a relief… But there was also little actual comfort to it, for Draxum knew as soon as there were signs of the two of them being together in public again, the cameras and microphone-wielding pests of the city would pounce on them once more like snakes from the shadows. Each date outside of one of their homes would be a spectacle for the world to see, and Draxum hated that.  What he hated even more, however, was the fact that if it weren't for these vultures and the mess they would bring to his life… He would've probably called Lou as soon as the coast was clear...

Draxum had never needed space, he just refused to give the paparazzi a chance to get what they wanted! He had just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to hide from the prying eyes of his newfound public audience. But Lou… He had never wanted to be away from Lou, not for this long at least.  He truly did forgive him for his mistake, and each time Draxum thought of him - of the fun conversations or the things Lou would do to make him smile, of all the small gestures meant only for him and the moments they would also share with Lou’s young family - it only made his heart ache… God, did Draxum miss him. He missed ALL of them, and wanted nothing more than to see them again. To go back to the way things were.

And yet his hand refused to pick up the phone.

Draxum growled, carelessly tossing the book aside before leaning back on the couch and shutting his eyes. He hated it… Hated that to be with the one he loved, he'd have to risk being exposed to the world. Hated that a single phone call between them or a simple night out could also invite thousands of eyes and invasive questions. Hated that, for their relationship to work, he would have to also most likely deal with dangerous rumors and insulting comments and possibly even threats (depending on how rabid that particular part of the Lou Jitsu fanbase was) on a daily basis.

...But most of all, he hated himself for being such a coward. He didn't care how reasonable it was to hide, he was still allowing them to control this part of his life. He was giving them the power to decide the fate of his relationship instead of fighting for it... But since when was Benjamin Draxum not a fighter?

Deciding to do what he should've done two weeks ago, Draxum stood up and got his laptop.  It didn't take very long, about an hour at most. Editing was minimal, and as he prepared to post it on his rarely-used Facebook account (which had amounted followers in the thousands in just a few short days with the number continuing to rise), he finally picked up his cell and sent a simple text:

“Hello, Lou. Sorry for taking so long.”

It only took a couple minutes to get a reply. “It's fine, do not worry about it.” It was a normal enough reply, yet something about it still made it seem like Lou was walking on eggshells with him rather than being his normal, carefree self.

Draxum scowled slightly as his thumb flew across the keys. “No, it's not fine. Yes, I was upset and-” Scared? Angry? Disgusted by society? “-worried about dealing with… this whole situation. But not anymore. By the way, I’m posting something online right now, and I just wanted to give you a heads up. I'd suggest you watch it though.”

That time, Lou’s reply took several minutes. “Should I be worried about this?” He finally asked. He could almost see the man raising an eyebrow at him, wondering whether or not the scientist was about to do something that could get him anything from a bunch of flame comments and haters to getting arrested.

Draxum chuckled despite himself, not exactly being able to blame his boyfriend for being concerned. “No, if this blows up in my face, I should be the only one in the crossfire. That being said, I did want to ask one last thing. Are you free to go out tomorrow? I'd like to take you back to the diner we like.”

He could see Lou thinking it over (thanks to the ellipsis word bubble) before giving him an answer. “Yeah, sure, I should be free...but are you sure u want to go back there? and not somewhere else?”

“Yes. Very.” He was certain that Lou was still a bit unsure, but nevertheless they agreed on a time that Draxum would pick him up before saying goodnight. With that taken care of, Draxum made his post and then promptly shut off his laptop, letting his video do the rest…

-----------

“Hello. My name is Dr. Benjamin Draxum - though I'm sure most of you out there don't care about that. You'll just call me ‘The Scientist’ or ‘Lou Jitsu’s boyfriend’. Speaking of Lou and my relationship with him, that will be the subject of this video. You all want answers? Then fine, you've got them.

“We first met about five months, at an art museum auction event. When we first met each other, he invited me to join him and his family for the rest of the evening. I accepted. Afterwards, he gave me his phone number, and after a long conversation over the phone where we got to know each other, he invited me over to his house for supper. Again, I accepted.

“Ever since then, we've been spending time with each other and going out on dates when we can. We talk on the phone, visit each other’s homes, and do all the normal, average things that literally any other couple would do on dates. Those are the facts. And because I have revealed all the facts that are there, I will not be accepting or answering anymore questions, from the public or the media, in this video’s comments section or through the phone or email. However, I understand that this will not keep people from asking anyway or from speculation, nor will it keep mine and Lou’s relationship private despite the more intimate details of it not being anyone else’s business. I fully expect candid shots of us together the next time we go out, no matter how much I may ask of others to respect our privacy. ...But again, I accept this, and I will give you all one last fact about me:

“I care about Lou Jitsu, fully and genuinely, and as long as he will continue to allow it and as long as I still have these strong feelings for him, I will continue to be with him. Thank you and goodnight.”

Jessica had watched the video three times now, and each time she found herself a bit hollow afterwards. It hadn't been the first time someone famous (or even just in the middle of their thirty seconds of fame) had made a video to help clear up certain things or vent about something. But those were usually a lot more dramatic, where they'd eventually start screaming or crying or insulting people - But Draxum had done none of that.

He had spoke as if he was giving a lecture on whatever it was he studied. He was clear and concise, only presenting the facts with little emotion whatsoever. Even how he presented himself on the camera was professional, sitting up straight on his couch at home, well dressed with brushed hair. This was hardly some dramatic speech or him boasting about how he was sure ‘their love could conquer anything’. ...At least, it wasn't that in words or tone.

But in his eyes and the way he stared down the camera - not caring how many were watching or judging - revealed his true feelings. His passion, his determination to fight for his relationship, maybe even his love.

“I gotta hand it to you, Jitsu,” Jessica smiled, finally closing the screen, “You sure know how to pick them…” She also had a feeling that they'd be one of the few celebrity couples to stay together - and if that were indeed the case, she'd definitely have to come up with a better couples name for them than #HotSoupLove.

---------------------

As far as he knew, no one had followed him to the Jitsu household. No paparazzi desperate for interviews, and no cameramen hoping for candid shots. Though, if there had been someone, he wasn't sure how much he would actually care. At this point, nothing was going to stop him from finally seeing his boyfriend again.

So, Draxum walked up to the house, moved to knock on the door, and-

The door opened, Lou already knowing he was there. He was smirking, but there was gratitude and admiration in his smile. “Well well well… Don't we know how to make a viral splash?”

Draxum smiled back at him. “Well, I didn't exactly have much of a choice. I had to let the world - and you - know where I stand.”

Lou’s smile fell a bit. “...Except you did have a choice. You know that, right?”

“I do… But it wouldn't have been a choice I'd be happy with,” Draxum told him, taking a step forward. He took Lou’s hands, squeezing them with care. “I want to be with you, no matter how much I may have to deal with from everyone else.” Though, after a moment, he frowned. “Of course, I'm not the only one this affects… Even if I'm not around you all the time, I'm sure you and your family will have to deal with all of that extra attention as well, so-”

Suddenly, Lou was grinning ear-to-ear. “Wow, last night really was the first time you have been on social media in a while, huh?”

“...Yesss, why?”

He chuckled. “Tang Shen saw what was going on, and heard about how our house was practically swarmed with people wanting comments that first day. And well, heh, you're not the only one who can make an online video. Just recently she decided to, ah, 'renew' an old threat directed at the entire paparazzi community, and told them that anyone who tried to talk or take pictures of my children without my consent would be VERY sorry. My boys will be just fine.”

Draxum was grinning now, holding back his laughter. “Well, that settles it. I definitely have to meet that woman one of these days.”

“She always flies in around Christmastime, just a heads up. And as for me, I am pretty much used to the whole ‘rabid fanbase, occasionally stalked by media people’ thing by now. Although…” His smile softened. “It really is easier when you have someone helping you deal with it.”

Not willing to hold himself back anymore, Draxum closed the distance between them, kissing Lou softly. Lou deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Yes, this was where he belonged: Beside his boyfriend, taking on whatever came their way together.

As they broke apart, they could hear tiny feet coming down the stairs. “I will have to go drop the boys off at O’Neil’s place, and then-”

“Draxum!” “Dr. Draxum!” “Drax!” “DRAXUMMMMM!”

From out of nowhere it seemed, he felt one, two, three, four small bodies (though that last one was pretty heavy) run into his legs, knocking him off balance and onto the ground. “Wh- Boys?!” Lou shouted.

Of course, his sons just ignored him, too excited as they all shouted at once. “We haven't seen you in forever, Dr. Draxum!” “See, I told you guys he'd come back!” “Yeahhh well, I always knew.” “Nuh uh, Leo!” "Yuh huh!" “DRAXUM I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE BAAAACK!”

Unable to help himself, Draxum laughed, managing to wrap his arms around all four of them. “I've missed you boys, too…” And that was the truth.

It took about fifteen minutes to calm the boys down and get them to April’s house (and to get Mikey to let go of Draxum), thanks to Draxum happily promising to visit them again later. With that settled, the reunited couple made their way to the diner.

As was to be expected, the diner was pretty full, now infamous for being #HotSoupLove’s ‘place’. But the two barely gave anyone else a second glance as they caught up with each other and enjoyed their meal, nor did they hesitate in taking a nice walk through the open Central Park afterwards. Not even the annoying occasional flash of a camera out of the corner of their eye or the whispers as they passed people by could sour their mood.

They were dealing with it all together, and that was all that mattered.

(( I know Jessica Jacklynn was just a referee/commentator, but I feel like she would totally be the type of character to host a late night talkshow and just be all about the celebrity gossip and drama. Lol, anyway, hope this chapter was enjoyable and not too wordy. please leave a comment if you can!))

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Swift As Karma (Part 5)

Ozai peered down from his throne as Azula approached with a sickly feeling in her stomach. A feeling doubled by that she was feeling nervous at all. This should have been an easy feat. Only a week or so ago she had, had her art nearly perfected. 

Her stances, her strength, her agility, all of it was at the ready and in perfect form. All of it saved for the actual ability to access and utilize her chi. 

She hoped that the avatars would work with her, at least this once. 

Had they any sense of self-preservation, they would. 

“Go on.”

Azula drew in a deep breath and moved into her beginning stance. A slow stoop punctuated with an arc of flame. It didn’t fan out as far as she’d intended but at least there was some power to it. Perhaps the past avatars had some rationality and sense after all. 

She snapped to her full height and punched a few balls of flame, cringing as each came out weaker than the next. A bead of nervous sweat arose. It would seem that she had spoken too soon. 

Ozai’s gaze was heavy to the point where there was no need to look up to know that it was upon her in the most judgmental sense. 

She could feel herself growing tense. She wished that she had a chance to speak with TyLee before her father had summoned her. 

Azula closed her eyes and began again from the beginning, the results remained the same, but she pushed forward, taking the care to put a focus on her stances and forms as opposed to the bending itself. She showed off a few midair kicks, mostly replicating some of the moves she’d used when she’d first come upon the Avatar. From there she displayed some of the motions she’d gone through when fighting him for the last time, but with none of the power it ought to have.

She looked up to find that her father looked none too pleased with her weak performance. 

In the utmost drab tone, Ozai spoke, “your lightning?”

Azula swallowed hard. A whole new feeling of dread cut through her core, leaving her with an icy feeling of despair. She hadn’t dared work with her lightning since the Avatar’s body struck the stony floor. The crunch of his fragile bones reverberated in her mind. 

The Avatars were already furious, Agni forbid she set them off by using the force that she’d killed the boy with. 

“Your lightning.” Ozai repeated. His tone oozed impatience and unamusement. 

Azula nodded. She sent a silent plea to Aang’s past lives to let her have this. She wasn’t certain that they could hear her at all. Energy tingled on her fingertips as she coaxed the lightning to them. It crackled and sizzled in a flashy and large arc and for a moment she thought that she had something. 

She smiled to herself, an expression worn prematurely. 

The lightning grew in intensity. It was more than she had called upon. More than she had trained herself to carry at one time, her muscles contracted and she released the lightning involuntarily. 

The burnt of the volt sailed just to the left of her father. The rest of it nipped unpleasantly at the skin of her cheeks and arms. She could feel the fading static around her. The tang of ozone on her tongue. The way her hair frizzed. 

“At least your lightning still has potency. It would do you well to learn to aim it.”

“Sorry, father.” She apologized. “I’m still learning how much lightning I can use at once.” The excuse came easily because it was mostly true. Her lightning still wasn’t on par with what she’d like. 

“And what excuse do you have for you poor firebending performance?” He questioned. “My expectations are high, so why are you bending like your brother?”

That sent an unpleasant trill down her spine a hollowness in her stomach. “It’s not an excuse. It is a perfectly rational decision.” She fought to keep her voice level. “I’m hoping to reserve my energy for when it matters.” She tried. “I was also hoping to put an emphasis on my form; I wanted to show you the work I’ve done on my stances…”

“You are lying.”

“I’m not…” Azula began.

Ozai laughed. “You can lie to anyone you’d like, Azula, and they’ll believe you. You can lie to me too. But I know better.”

He paused, allowing ample time for it to settle. She opened her mouth but he spoke first. “I taught you how to lie, don’t you think I know how to catch you in one?”

She swallowed, her eyes growing watery. Just one more thing that only he could draw from her. His stare grew harder still, angrier. Azula closed her eyes; he was going to leave her out of his war plans, he was going to replace her with Zuko.

“I’m not lying.” She insisted.

For a moment she swore that he was going to hit her. 

He might as well have. 

“I’m sure that your brother is going to love the opportunity to…”

She was already in deep, she may as well cut him off. “You can’t replace me!” She couldn’t seem to keep the frantic tone from her voice. 

“You can’t bend…”

“I can!” She argued. 

“Send for your brother.”

“I’m stronger than he is. I’m the Avatar now!” She blurted out.

This sparked a roar of laughter from her father. 

“When I killed him…” she mumbled with her cheeks beginning to flush. “His powers transferred over to me.” She paused. “But so did his past lives. They aren’t pleased that I killed Avatar Aang, they have been blocking my chi and tampering with my energy…”

Ozai’s laughter died. “You’re serious.” He commented in a tone just off of nonchalant. He gave his beard a thoughtful stroke. “Prove your words.”

“Have the servants get me some water.”

Azula stared at the glass once it was finally put before her. “I haven’t tried using any of the other elements yet.” She noted as though doing so would help her case. She tried her best to conjure a mental image of her fights with the waterbender. 

They were clear in her mind but of no use, the girl’s waterbending was to advanced to imitate from the start. 

Instead she tried to draw the water to her fingers the way she would her fire. It wouldn’t budge. She looked up at Ozai, something in his jaw worked and she grew ever more nervous. She tired tugging the water again, moving it only enough for it to be mistaken for someone bumping the surface it sat upon. 

Ozai’s hand on her cheek took her by surprise. She blinked at him in a confused daze. 

“Lying wasn’t enough for you? You had to waste my time with foolish games too?” He hollered. 

She brought her hand to her stinging cheek. “It wasn’t a lie father. I am the Avatar now, I can feel them…”

“You’ve lost your mind.” Ozai grumbled. 

“I haven’t!” With that she’d managed to vex him in full. He took the glass and flung it at her. It hit her head and shattered. She winced, feeling a faint ebb of what she hoped was just water. She brought her fingers to the throbbing spot, they came away with blood. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear his footsteps.

She wondered if the Avatars could sense her fear as well as Ozai. 

Ozai’s hands gripped her shoulders with a bruising force as she clutched the aching spot in her head, willing the pain to stop. And then it did. The pain flared up and then ceased altogether. She brought her trembling hand back to her side and Ozai’s grip slackened. He moved her hair out of the way and wiped at the blood. 

“What a fascinating development.” The satisfied smirk was back on his face and the hand that remained on her shoulder was now firm and supportive. “We will have to figure out what to do about those past avatars and their interference.”

Azula nodded. 

“I will send your brother to conquer the weaker villages while we train you to use these impressive new powers.” He paused. “And then you and I will lead the most powerful militia invasion that the Earth Kingdom has seen.” 

The way his face lit with pride filled her with relief and a surge of pride of her own. 

“We will begin tomorrow.”

The regret and horror didn’t settle in until she was burrowed under her blankets and the euphoria of her father’s pride and acceptance had tapered off.

What had she done?

Agni, what had she done?

[caveartfair]

The Art of China’s Empresses Reveals Their Powerful, Secret Lives

Probably Giuseppe Castiglione and other court painters, Empress Dowager Chongqing at the Age of Seventy, ca. 1761. © The Palace Museum.

Probably Giuseppe Castiglione and other court painters, Empress Xiaozhuang, ca. 1750. © The Palace Museum.

At the onset of Empresses in the Palace, the 2011 miniseries that caused a sensation in China, a beautiful young woman, Zhen Huan, is paraded before the emperor. She is one of many marriage-age girls who have been summoned to Beijing’s Forbidden City to be considered for the Yongzheng Emperor’s harem. Although it is an honor to be chosen as an imperial consort, Zhen is dismayed—she must leave her family behind and enter into a new life of luxury, restriction, and scheming ambition.

In the historical epic, set against the backdrop of the flourishing Qing Dynasty (1644–1912) in the 18th century, Zhen navigates the treacherous, strictly regulated court, where eight ranks of consorts compete with the top empress and vye for the emperor’s attention. (While there was only one empress at a time, the larger lower ranks could move up the social ladder, especially by bearing sons.) At the top of this food chain stood the empress dowager—a consort who had either installed her son on the throne, or was the widowed primary wife of a previous emperor.

The real women who lived in the palace are shrouded in mystery, but Daisy Yiyou Wang and Jan Stuart—the curators of a new exhibition that delves into the empresses’ lives—emphasize that the TV show is a dramatization. At least, there’s not enough evidence to prove that the salacious backstabbing and love affairs that dominate the plot actually took place.

“Empresses of China’s Forbidden City, 1644–1912,” a collaboration between the Palace Museum in Beijing; the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts; and the Freer and Sackler Galleries in Washington, D.C. (where it is now on view), capitalizes on the popularity of such costume dramas. The exhibition centers on five empresses’ little-acknowledged influence on art, religion, and politics through the furniture and objects they used, the paintings they enjoyed, and the jewelry and clothes they wore.

Court hat with phoenixes. Probably Imperial Workshop, Beijing, 18th or 19th century. © The Palace Museum.

Festive robe with bats, lotuses, and the characters for longevity, Jiaqing period, 1796–1820. Probably Imperial Silk Manufactory, Suzhou (embroidery), and Imperial Workshop (tailoring). © the Palace Museum.

Pair of bracelets with bats, peaches, and flowers, probably 19th or early 20th century. © The Palace Museum.

Seal of empress with double-headed dragon with box, tray, lock, key, and plaques, 1922. © The Palace Museum.

Hairpin with figure and vase, 18th or 19th century. © The Palace Museum.

The relative obscurity of these women runs counter to our understanding of royalty today. “If you watch the royal wedding in England, it’s a public affair, a spectacle,” Wang said. “Back then, imperial women were probably completely invisible to the general public.” In European monarchies, copies of rulers’ portraits were circulated around the world for others to venerate; in China, access to imperial powers was a privilege, their images considered sacred.

The curators also knew they were up against pernicious gender bias in their field. Scholars of Chinese art history generally believed that women at court had access to inferior art, fashion, and decorations compared to those used by the emperor. “People questioned us from the beginning because we didn’t think objects used by women and made for women were secondary art objects,” Wang said. She was convinced that some of the most spectacular pieces in the Palace Museum collection were enjoyed by powerful women. She was right.

Court painters, Drinking Tea from Yinzhen’s Twelve Ladies, 1709–23. © The Palace Museum.

Probably Giuseppe Castiglione and other court painters, Consort of the Qianlong emperor and the future Jiaqing emperor in his boyhood, probably 1760s. © The Palace Museum.

The curators found that the quality of art and objects owned by these high-ranking ladies matched those of the emperor, though they didn’t always feature the same motifs. “There’s a longstanding thought in Chinese culture that if you have good omens, images of what is desired surrounding a person, that can help actualize the goal,” Stuart said. Thus, women in the court found themselves surrounded by images of mothers and sons, or symbols suggesting fertility—a woman holding a seeded gourd, or two interlocking jade circles, a reference to continuity.

Their quarters were decorated with exquisite pieces of furniture. One delicate lacquer cabinet in the exhibition—whose staggered shelves offer discreet places to put personal treasures—is painted with a delicate landscape scene and auspicious motifs like the bat. Each piece in an empress’s living space was similarly spectacular and refined.

Festive robe with bats, clouds, and the characters for longevity, Qianlong period, 1785 or earlier. Probably Imperial Silk Manufactory, Nanjing (weaving), and Imperial Workshop (tailoring). © the Palace Museum.

Still, the lives and activities of these women have been obscured for centuries. The Qing court, like many other monarchies around the world, had a patrilineal structure. There was a tradition to record the emperor’s life in great detail, but no such tradition for his wives. “To say they’re not documented at all,” however, “would be a false statement,” Wang said.

Often, the influence of the empresses is only obliquely referenced in archival documents written by the emperor, and so they are characterized from their husband’s or son’s point of view. “Although it’s not strictly articulated, you can get a very strong hint that many of these women were educated, they could talk about state affairs, and be the soulmate of their husband,” Wang said. The empress was also expected, like women all over China, to be a good household manager.

Qing Kuan and other court painters, The Grand Imperial Wedding of the Guangxu Emperor (detail), ca. 1889. © The Palace Museum.

To navigate the intense competition at court, savvy networking with both men and women became paramount for success—and survival. The women who rose to power in the imperial court were those who understood the rigid social codes and worked to exploit their possibilities. Their influence on state affairs “was more about subtle subversion than overt,” Wang said, and often went undocumented.

Shrewd dowager empresses took advantage of traditions of filial piety, which demanded that the emperor bow to no one—except for his mother. “That quirky fact is a nice way to be reminded that in the Manchu culture, women actually had dignity, authority, and status,” Stuart said. Empress dowager Chongqing was visited by her son, the Qianlong Emperor, almost every day, Stuart observed, and though her advice—on battle strategy, or how to pray—was not always recorded, we know from historical records that he did, in fact, follow her suggestions.

Ritual space in the Main Hall of the Palace of Longevity and Health. Courtesy of the Palace Museum, Beijing. © The Palace Museum.

Empresses could additionally wield influence as religious patrons. Empress Xiaozhuang, who was Mongolian, was the first person to bring a dedicated worship of Tibetan-style Buddhism to the Qing court, which became the main religion practiced there. As part of her patronage, she commissioned a tremendous amount of high-quality art for the temple near her residence. A portrait of Xiaozhuang from around 1750 appropriately shows the empress in a monkish brown gown, clutching prayer beads.

The Qing dynasty’s last empress, Cixi, achieved an unprecedented level of overt influence, “controll[ing] the power of the court for more than 40 years,” Wang said. Cixi played up her position as the senior matriarch to manipulate the men in her life, especially her husband, son, nephew, and grandnephew, all of whom became emperor at one point. When her son ascended the throne as a little boy, Cixi ruled as co-regent with another woman and the emperor’s brother. “She must have had incredible people skills,” Wang said.

Empress Dowager Cixi with foreign envoys’ wives in the Hall of Happiness and Longevity (Leshou tang) in the Garden of Nurturing Harmony (Yihe yuan), ca. 1903–05. Photo by Yu Xunling. Courtesy of the Smithsonian Institution.

Cixi’s subversion of gender roles isn’t found in texts, but in art. In the Chinese tradition, the most important person is depicted as the largest figure in a painting. In one work showing Cixi playing chess with her son, she is tellingly shown as bigger than the emperor.

Cixi deeply understood the power of images. At the dawn of the 20th century, invasive foreign powers seeking an “open-door” policy in China threatened the Qing empire. Cixi cannily began to cultivate relationships with foreign diplomats, especially their wives. She sent weekly gifts to Sarah Pike Conger, the wife of an American ambassador. Conger convinced Cixi to let an American painter, Katharine A. Carl, create her portrait. “For Westerners to see the real her rather than a dragon lady—that’s the kind of press she got at the time—was quite a coup,” Wang explained. She caused a revolution in Chinese court portraiture when she had an official portrait of herself exhibited at the World’s Fair.

For the first time, the public was invited to not only know of the empress’s great power, but to gaze upon her powerful visage. It was a transgressive moment of significant cultural sway, a “coming out” for the hidden female leaders of China’s Forbidden Palace. The curators likewise hope that the exhibition will inspire other scholars of history, Wang said, to pay attention to women’s lives. “There’s a lot to be uncovered.”

from Artsy News

[thdorkmagnet]

Light of the Sun and Stars Chapter 42: Cooking with Kelly (Preview)

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: The annual Mewni Bake-Off is about to begin and Kelly is excited and nervous to be representing her restaurant this year. Needing help she asks Star and Marco for assistance in the competition and Tom comes to help out too, much to Kelly’s dismay. And to make matters worse one of the other competitors seemed determined to ruin Kelly’s chances at winning, no matter the cost. 

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Index

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. All rights go to them.

Kelly sucked in a deep breath, trying to rid herself of the nervous energy she felt building up in her chest. Her fingers tapped impatiently against her leg as she scanned the crowded streets, looking for any signs of her friends. Today was the big day. The Annual Mewni Bake-Off was about to begin and so far Star and Marco were no shows, Kelly unsure if they were just running late or possibly had forgotten, although that last one seemed unlikely. Come on guys, this is not what I need today, Kelly thought glumly, feeling her anxiety spike again. She really needed some support right now. Although she had felt calm and ready during the time leading up to the bake-off now that the day had actually arrived, doubt had started creeping into her mind, her nerves making it incredibly difficult for her to relax.

She cast a quick glace over to Tad from the stands, her boyfriend sadly having to sit out the competition since he wasn't a chef, and he gave her an encouraging smile, yelling something to her that was sadly drown out in the noisy crowd around him. Kelly put a hand to her chest, trying to relax her nerves to no avail. It was bad enough she was struggling with self-doubt but not having Tad with her made her feel incomplete, like a part of her was missing and that only made her feel more stressed and anxious.

And to top it all off, Roy had made it very clear to her what would happened should she fail this competition, his horrifying use of the terms “dish maid and underpaid waitress” enough to give Kelly nightmares. She had to win this competition or her dreams of being a world-famous chef would be all but impossible. Kelly tried not to let those thoughts crush her, reminding herself of her resolve.

She was going to show Roy exactly what she was made of, she was going to help Fang Tangs reach no heights of popularity even if it killed her. Fang Tangs had never won the competition before, mostly going unnoticed to the bigger and better bakers on the roster, but Kelly was not gonna let that stand. Now was her chance to prove what she was made of!

But those dreams would be all but dashed if her sous-chefs didn't get there soon.

Right on cue, she heard the familiar voice of Marco call behind her, “Hey Kelly!”

The green-haired girl turned with a relieved grin as she saw Marco and Star approaching the two dressed in cute chef outfits. “Thank goodness you two made it!” Kelly exclaimed, her tone slightly panic-filled. “I was starting to worry you wouldn't show.”

“Sorry,” Marco said rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, Star giving the girl an apologetic grin. “Hope we didn't worry you two bad.”

Kelly shook her head. “Nah, so long as your here, that's all I care about,” the Woolett told her friends with a bright grin.

“Well you can count on us, Kelly,” Star said, doing a little salute, Marco doing the same. “We're here to help!”

“Thanks, I really appreciate the support,” Kelly replied, before letting out a soothing breath. “To be honest, I've been feeling a little freaked out about this. Roy said if I fail I can kiss my role as chef goodbye.”

“That's not gonna happen, Kelly,” Marco said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. “Because so long as the four of work together we're gonna win this thing!”

The girl felt a flood of relief wash over her at that, Marco confidence helping to restore some of her own. “Thanks, Marco, I-” Kelly began, only to stop mid-sentence as she processed what Marco had said. “Wait, what did you mean by four?” the green-haired girl asked, a suspicious eyebrow slowly raising.

“Oh we invited Tom to help out, too,” Star explained.

“You did what?!” Kelly exclaimed.

The two flinched at the raised tone, Marco saying in a soft, unsure tone, “We, uhh, just thought maybe he could help.”

“How?” Kelly asked, in disbelief.

“Well it is a really complicated recipe, Kelly,” Star tried. “We just thought an extra pair of hands could be useful.”

“Yeah, but you coulda at least told me about it,” Kelly muttered bitterly, crossing her hands in front of her chest.

“Sorry, we didn't think you'd mind,” Marco said with an apologetic look.

“Plus, it just kinda happened,” Star added. “We mentioned the competition to him this morning and Tom offered to lend us all a hand, so we said yes.”

“Well, where is he then?” Kelly asked, with a skeptical frown.

“Tom's usually late for stuff,” Star explained. “He'll be here.”

“Does he even know how to cook?” the Woolett questioned, an eyebrow slowly raising.

“Oh, totally!” Marco said with a confident smile. “He said he's been baking since he was a little kid.”

Kelly looked back and forth between the two for a moment, seeing their eager and begging faces and knew there was no point in arguing. It was impossible to resist those two's charms. “Okay, fine. He can help,” the Woolett declared and Star and Marco cheered, high-fiving in victory. “But he better not get in the way and he has to follow orders, got it.”

Star and Marco nodded. “Thank Kelly!” Marco exclaimed, giving the girl a quick hug, Star joining in, too. “I promise you won't regret it.”

Kelly gave a small grunt in reply. She really hoped that was true and that she wasn't making a terrible mistake. But she supposed for once, she'd just have to trust her friends. They were helping her out of the kindness of their own hearts, after all. The least she could do was hear them out. She pushed the two away before saying in a commanding tone, “Now, let's go get our area set up, the competition starts soon.”

“Yes, ma'am!” Star and Marco said simultaneously, saluting their chef with goofy but enduring looks and Kelly couldn't help but giggle.

“At ease, soldiers,” she joked with the smallest hint of a smirk on her face, her friends succeeding in crushing the fears and doubts within her.

[warninggraphiccontent]

7 August 2020

Show of hands

A couple of interesting government speeches touching on data while I was away (naturally).

Soon-to-depart Cabinet Secretary, Mark Sedwill, gave a valedictory rundown of his experience in public service. There was a bit on the importance of the UK government comparing itself to, and learning from, other governments (hello InCiSE). And there was a bit on data:

With all the data available to us in the modern era, the man or woman in Whitehall really should know best, but knowledge isn’t impact and so insight from big data should inform our leadership of the wider system, and that leadership must be persuasive and convening to be truly effective.

I don't think it's just the 'knowledge isn't impact' point that makes the expertise of others in the system important (local government will have better knowledge of a particular local area, etc), but the need to see Whitehall as a steward in a wider system - including on data - was a welcome theme running through the speech. Sedwill chose to quote T. E. Lawrence:

“Do not try to do too much with your own hands. Better they do it tolerably than that you do it perfectly … you are to help them, not [do] it for them. Actually, also, under their conditions, your practical work will not be as good as, perhaps, you think it is”. Or in the famous development aphorism: “better teach to fish than provide a fish”.

The 'hands' reference put me in my mind of something else. Specifically, That Dominic Cummings Job Advert which uses a different quote about hands, from mathematician Alexander Grothendieck:

‘Two hands, it isn’t much considering how the world is infinite. Yet, all the same, two hands, they are a lot.’

One may be deliberately over-reading in a desperate attempt to connect some things for a newsletter introduction, but Sedwill's stewarding hands approach and Cummings' contrasting centralising one (see, e.g., 10ds) provide a useful frame for thinking about how the government is approaching data (and much else besides).

There is also some risk of sorting things at the centre at the expense of the whole system in the speech by Steve Barclay, chief secretary to the Treasury, which announces the creation of a small data science team in the Treasury. There undoubtedly be other dragons too - see Peter here, and Rachel Coldicutt and replies here - but I'm mainly encouraged that the Treasury is heading into what have been uncharted waters for them: taking the better use of data seriously.

Setting clear priorities and connecting expenditure, performance and outcomes? Good. Recognising government has 'too often... been behind the curve when it comes to obtaining, analysing, and enabling open access to data'? Good. Talking about the importance of standards, incentives, data architecture, legacy IT and the limits of data across government? Good. Let's see how that's translated into action when it comes to the Spending Review.

There's also a good summary from Graham here. And hats off to Civil Service World for the New Radicals gag.

Also:

Data Bites will return on Wednesday 9 September. Watch the archive here in the meantime.

It's snooker world championship time - here's my attempt at some snooker dataviz (and terrible puns) from last year

The Office for Statistics Regulation are reviewing the availability of data on children and young people. If only someone had done a report on that recently... here's our report with Nesta on missing data in children and young people's services.

A British (online) newspaper has given its frontpage over to a chart, like it's an American newspaper or something. Though as the replies suggest, there may be some way to go yet...

Happy tenth birthday to legislation.gov.uk! Here's John Sheridan talking about how they prepared the site for Brexit, at October's Data Bites.

***Open government irony klaxon*** I'll spare you my extended thoughts on open government being back at the Cabinet Office and therefore under the auspices of certain individuals (for now), but this should give you an idea.

That Twitter Joke Format feels like it was months ago already, but yes, of course I got involved.

Amazing work from the team at the Orwell Youth Prize to keep this year's show on the road - read, and even listen to, some of the brilliant winners here.

Nope. And the polls prove it. And you should always believe the polls. Obviously.

I'm off again next week - so, by extension, is this newsletter. Maybe I'll find some time to read this E. M. Forster short story, The Machine Stops, which has popped up in conversations a few times over the last couple of weeks.

See you soon

Gavin

Today's links:

Tips, tech, etc

Looking after your mental health as we come out of lockdown (Mental Health Foundation)

Companies Start to Think Remote Work Isn’t So Great After All* (Wall Street Journal)

Graphic content

Beirut

Visual guide: how explosion caused mass casualties and devastation across Beirut (The Guardian)

Mapping the Damage From the Beirut Explosion* (New York Times)

The Beirut blast is the latest tragedy linked to ammonium nitrate* (The Economist)

This morning I woke up to see viral maps incorrectly comparing the damage area of the Beirut explosion to London and New York (Joanna Merson)

Beirut port, before and after the explosion (Ian Bremmer)

Beirut explosion: Before and after satellite images show extent of devastation (ITV News)

Viral content

Coronavirus vaccine tracker: how close are we to a vaccine? (The Guardian, via Sukh)

The unique US failure to control the virus* (New York Times)

How to spot a local coronavirus outbreak from data (FT)

Europe battles to contain surge in Covid-19 cases (FT)

Pandemic crisis: Global economic recovery tracker* (FT)

The Infodemic: Super-spreaders* (Tortoise)

New York City Reopening Splits Along Lines of Wealth and Race* (Bloomberg)

Covid-19: England had highest excess death levels in Europe by end of May (The Guardian)

White America Got a Head Start on Small-Business Virus Relief* (Bloomberg)

Covid-19 seems to have changed lifestyles for good* (The Economist)

Coronavirus: England highest level of excess deaths (BBC News)

The French have, breaking the pattern of recent weeks, published Covid-19 test result data on a Saturday... (Tom Forth)

Why does data matter so much in #COVID19 and why is the UK getting it wrong? A thread on transparency (Ed Conway)

Where next for local lockdown? Use our tracker to find out* (New Statesman)

Counting the coronavirus crisis (South China Morning Post)

How fit were public services for coronavirus? (IfG)

Big tech

Microsoft’s proposed purchase of TikTok would be its biggest yet* (The Economist)

Big tech presents a problem for investors as well as Congress* (FT)

Twitter’s algorithm does not seem to silence conservatives* (The Economist)

TikTok’s rampant growth strikes wrong note with US* (FT)

#dataviz

17 gold, 65 silver and 87 bronze medals at #malofiej28 (Malofiej)

Continue, Pivot or Put It Down: The Pudding’s process to go from idea to data story (The Pudding)

The Courage (and Disappointment) of Pitching a Visual Essay (The Pudding)

Ten Guidelines for Better Tables (Jon Schwabish)

Science and nature

Life and Death in Our Hot Future Will Be Shaped by Today’s Income Inequality* (Bloomberg)

Isaias Targets East Coast in Fastest Start to Hurricane Season Since 1851* (Bloomberg)

Exploring the Solar System* (New York Times)

How to dress for space* (Washington Post)

Biden calls for 100 percent clean electricity by 2035. Here’s how far we have to go.* (Washington Post)

Rain shadow maps (Alasdair Rae)

Sport and leisure

A Sankey diagram of the first-place vote for Best Novel in this year's #HugoAwards (@Goobergunch)

Premier League: The best stats from the strangest season (BBC Sport)

Are Penalty Kicks Easier Without Fans? Maybe Not. (FiveThirtyEight)

A year out, few in Japan think the Olympics can be held next year* (The Economist)

Everything else

Major projects in government (Oliver for IfG)

So, the permanent secretary of the newly formed Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office will be... (Oliver for IfG)

Personal well-being in the UK (ONS)

Why supermarkets are struggling to profit from the online grocery boom* (FT)

The time of your life: Time use in London and the UK over the past 40 years (Resolution Foundation/Trust for London)

Finding the New Age, for Your Age (Flowing Data)

How George Floyd's death sparked a wave of UK anti-racism protests (The Guardian)

Below the radar: Exploring grants data for grassroots organisations (Local Trust, NCVO, 360Giving)

Police money in US politics under scrutiny as calls for reform grow* (FT - I think the box charts give the opposite impression to that intended at first glance?)

Early education and childcare entitlements data visualisation (NAO)

So I promised more behind-the-scenes of the @FiveThirtyEight 2020 forecast. Today I'll walk you through the development of our topline chart! (Anna Wiederkehr, via Marcus)

Meta data

Viral content

Coronavirus: England's contact-tracing app readies for launch (BBC News)

From frenzy to clarity: How our COVID-19 response has helped us put our community and data at the heart of our decision-making (Parkinson's UK)

FIGHTING AND WINNING FOR PRIVACY, WHERE WAS THE ICO (Open Rights Group)

We mustn’t let Silicon Valley thinking infect our NHS (openDemocracy)

How the pandemic has exposed AI’s limitations (Nesta)

How Taiwan’s Unlikely Digital Minister Hacked the Pandemic* (Wired - our interview with Audrey Tang here)

How to Think Like an Epidemiologist: Don’t worry, a little Bayesian analysis won’t hurt you.* (New York Times)

NHS contact-tracing app Ethics Board scrapped* (Telegraph)

Health data

NDG report on barriers to information sharing to support direct care (National Data Guardian)

Exploring the barriers to information sharing for direct care (National Data Guardian)

Public deliberation in the use of health and care data (OneLondon/Ipsos MORI/The King's Fund)

Government

Census 2021 – For the first time the ONS is using administrative data to count number of rooms (ONS)

Important digital changes are set out in today's planning reform white paper (Paul Maltby - see also previous Data Bites)

Personal reflections on a year of LOTI (Eddie Copeland)

Introducing our Data Principles (Ordnance Survey)

How data analytics can help with audits (National Audit Office)

Rapidly delivering an online form using MoJ Form Builder (MoJ Digital and Technology)

We won! Home Office to stop using racist visa algorithm (JCWI, via Jill)

Gove's Data Control Coup Emerges from the Shadows (Byline Times)

Teaching Public Service in the Digital Age

The Political School: forecasting, statistics and probability (BBC Sounds, via David)

Lies, damn lies and YouTube analytics – Part 1 (HackIT)

Scottish exam grades - John Swinney v Guy Nason (via Hetan Shah)

Everything else

Is the US about to split the internet? (BBC News)

Introducing WhatDoTheyKnow Projects (mySociety)

How Not to Know Ourselves (Data & Society)

Which Generation Chief Data Officer are you?  #CDOSummerSchool (Edafe Onerhime - see also this)

Tech Titans at Bay? (Project Syndicate)

The (in)credibility of algorithmic models to non-experts (Information, Communication and Society)

FAIR, fairer, fairest? (Leigh Dodds)

It’s not just misinformation that’s confusing us, it’s also missing information (An Xiao Mina)

Polis and the Political Process (Demos, Open Rights Group)

Public apathy is the most powerful enemy of tech regulation (NS Tech)

Can Killing Cookies Save Journalism?* (Wired)

Behind the Buzzwords: Big Data (BBC Sounds)

Mining public opinion: why unsuccessful online petitions should not be ignored (LSE British Politics and Policy)

Creating a digital commons (IPPR)

Modernizing U.S. Data Infrastructure: Design Considerations for Implementing a National Secure Data Service to Improve Statistics and Evidence Building (Data Foundation)

Opportunities

Call for inputs: Emerging technologies and their potential impact on the communications industry (Ofcom)

Consultation: Open Communications – Enabling people to share data with innovative services (Ofcom)

JOB: Biometrics and Surveillance Camera Commissioner (Home Office)

JOB: National Data Guardian for Health and Social Care (DHSC)

JOB: Deputy Director Head of Operations, Data and Dashboard (Cabinet Office)

JOB: Head of Policy & Innovation Lab (Home Office)

JOB: Research Director (Resolution Foundation)

JOB: Data architect (Citizens Advice)

We're hiring: Apply to be our Algorithms Reporter (Bureau of Investigative Journalism)

And finally...

Sound

Transit chimes by chord interval (Denise Lu)

Listen to Wikipedia (Hatnote, via Giuseppe)

Vision

I can't stop thinking about this chart. (Laura Birks, via Nick)

Trump looks at charts (Axios, via Georgie)

Are overweight politicians less trustworthy?* (The Economist)

#EatOutToHelpOut (Rob Fry)

Other

I have a joke about Excel, but... (Mike Shapiro)

Winning the Internet is a data-driven newsletter of links in other newsletters (The Pudding)

[nautilusopus]

The Number I

Chapter 13: If You Thought This Story Was Dialogue-Heavy Already Then Buddy Have I Got Some News For You

I really need to stop second-guessing chapters because it just causes delays and GOOD GOLLY was a lot of garbage posted in this tag in my absence. Longer chapter than usual to make up for that and wipe away the bad taste a front page full of rapefic and paedoshit and repetitive garbage tends to leave in one's mouth.

Also I'd just like to mention my recommended videos are full of industrial lathe accidents and eye surgery now and YouTube refuses to show me anything else. The sacrifices I've made for this stupid ass story. You're welcome.

Thank you to @fury-brand, @limbostratus, @cateringisalie, and @auncyen, because this one needed a lot of work.

There are holes in the world, and spaces between numbers. Neither should exist. Cloud starts noticing them, and he isn’t the only one who has. And unfortunately for him, he’s both. (Contains graphic depictions of violence.)

Cloud had been doing paperwork for the last three hours. He eventually learned it was three hours because Tifa had come to him in the middle of hour two, wondering what he'd been up to. He'd said "nothing", and as far as he knew that was accurate because none of the work was done and he had been sure before it had only been ten minutes. He'd been staring at the holes in his wall for longer than he'd thought.

Everything felt fuzzy today. It was Yuffie's turn to watch him right now, and he'd blanked out twice in the middle of her conversation. She'd said something to him. About him? Maybe. He knew he'd said something, too. She'd said something after that, but without the sentence before it he didn't know how he was supposed to reply to this one.

"...Yes?" he offered.

Yuffie crossed her arms. "What did I just ask you?"

He didn't know. He was supposed to know, wasn't he? If he didn't know the answer fast enough, she'd be mad, and --

"I was asking you if you needed help with expenses. You said yes, and then I asked you which part you wanted me to work on first," said Yuffie. Was she mad? She was probably mad now.

"Oh," said Cloud.

"Well, let me have a look," she said, and leaned over the form he was working on. She stared at it, then looked back at Cloud.

"So... is this a prank?" said Yuffie, and held up the paper he'd been working on for him to see. He'd blacked out most of the form, nearly every inch covered in formless scribbles.

"That's..." Now that she had brought it to his attention, Cloud did have a vague memory of doing that. It had made sense at the time, and he knew it wasn't right now, but couldn't quite put his finger on why that would be the case.

"It's that modern art you hear so much about, right?" said Yuffie, before crumpling the paper. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes."

"You are Cloud, right?"

"Yeah." He was, wasn't he? "I'm Cloud. I'm Cloud."

"Prove it. What did you get me for my birthday?"

"Water canteen. Materia inlay. I made it." She was mad. If she was mad at him, they'd make him listen for longer this time. There was a chemical tang to the air.

"...Yeah, I guess so. So did you want help with this stuff or not?"

"...What?" She wanted something. He didn't know what. He was supposed to know. She would be mad.

Yuffie rolled her eyes. "Y'know, let's do this later." Something seemed to click for her, and she turned back to him. Cloud flinched at the sudden movement.

"Tell me what you want to do later," said Yuffie pointedly. Cloud stared at her. He couldn't seem to point his thoughts in any particular direction right now. Doing later. What you want to do. What I want to do. I want. Want to do I want I am I want. A muscle in his arm spasmed.

Yuffie seemed to take his hesitation as a sign and wheeled his office chair over to the bed before dumping him out of it onto the blankets. There was too much noise in his own head, drowning out his own thoughts, and then drowning out him. There was a woman fussing about him, positioning him against something soft and folding him into a shape for her to slip in next to so she could write words into him more easily. He was melting into the walls, which were already covered with the words he'd let leak out. His arm arced out involuntarily, grasping frantically at something that wasn’t there.

The bits of him that used to be Cloud dissolved back into the green. It was too much trouble to be anyone, let alone be Cloud, right now. This is fine, was the last thought he managed to have for a while.

Schhhhhhick.

The sound was satisfyingly smooth, as good as the blade felt in his hand, lighter than air despite the reinforced steel it was supposedly made of. His breathing was heavy, his blood pounding in his ears, the scent of combat, of adrenaline and sweat and a mix of hormones he didn't even know how to describe, hanging richly in the air. A red heat sprayed up his arm and into his face. He let the body of the monster he'd run through slump off his sword, leaving it on the ground where it had fallen next to what remained of the other three.

A buzzer sounded, and he lay the sword down on the floor in front of him and stepped away, kneeling on the ground and putting his hands behind his head. Some of the blood ran past his nose and into his mouth, delivering a wealth of information that only parts of him, the old parts, could use. The lab aides quickly rushed in and began removing various sensors from him that had been monitoring his vitals, and the guards quickly escorted him out of the examination room once they were done.

He had grown taller in the time he'd been here (one year? ten?) -- not a whole lot taller, since he had never exactly been large, but enough to be the last bit of height he had to go. No longer a boy, very nearly a man. They had improved him, for which he was grateful. It felt good to be as strong as he was, to know he was better, the same way he knew he was taller. To know he was being made whole. To perform well for them, all these humans that had made him everything he was, and to finally begin whispering back to Mother.

The things he fought varied from week to week in size and shape, but they were otherwise generally consistent -- older specimens. The bad ones, the ones that didn't work out, and were consigned to the storage room until a use had been found for them. In this case, that use was bettering him, Series 3 of the Jenova Project. Giving him something to cut through, so they could measure how skillfully he did it. That was all they were good for.

Not like him. Not like Cloud.

In front of his cell, they were met with Hojo standing in the hallway accompanied by a pair of guards of his own, his hands steepled expectantly. Cloud stood and waited to be addressed.

"Welcome back, Series 3. It seems congratulations are in order."

Cloud waited, either for the professor to be finished speaking, or for him to be given orders to speak.

"Your performance this week has been excellent thus far," he continued, now only barely managing to stare down at Cloud due to his recent growth spurt. "My expectations for you were quite high as it stood, and yet in the three years since this leg of the project began, you have still managed to exceed them by leaps and bounds."

Cloud nodded after a moment, judging the risks of speaking unprompted. It appeared to be expected here, though. "Thank you, professor," he said.

"Your cooperation has been noted as well. I have therefore decided that you are worth investing in at this stage, as the potential next iteration of Soldier... among other things," he said, clearly pleased with his work. "And the President happens to agree. As such, I think we're due for a few formalities. As well as certain rewards, for good behaviour."

He stepped back and nodded to the guards escorting him to open the door to his cell. Cloud kept his eyes on the ground so Hojo wouldn't see the confusion in them. He should know what was going on, probably. Shouldn't he?

He was led inside, and the door wasn't shut immediately behind him prompting him to actually look up around himself. His eyes landed on his cot, and his mouth fell open.

It was a sword. A real sword, a proper sword, one that he probably wouldn't break by putting his full strength behind it. It was massive, nearly as tall as him, and more than half as wide. The blade was finely sharpened, the metal engraved, with a hinge near the base with a couple hollows for storing materia directly in the blade, for easier spell channeling. A sword that must have needed to be specially commissioned, which wouldn't be done for just anyone. A sword designed with an incredible amount of strength and destructive power in the arm of the wielder in mind.

A Soldier First Class's sword.

His sword.

Next to it, neatly folded, was a distinctive uniform and a pauldron.

Cloud's knees went weak.

Hojo watched intently from the doorway as Cloud knelt down next to it and reached out a shaking hand to grasp the hilt. "Perform well enough, and perhaps one day when the world is ready for you it will be official."

His arms suddenly felt like jelly as well, and he supported the blade with his other hand, looking it over. It was his sword. His. Just like a Soldier.

"Thank you," he managed to choke out.

"Hm." The guards began to file out. Cloud didn't look back at any of them, busy looking at his sword. His sword.

"Earn it." The door slid shut.

I will, though Cloud, the sword sitting on his lap, the uniform pressed into his face. I will. I will.

He fell asleep that night, on his cot and under his blanket that he had earned, next to his sword, the First Class uniform clutched to his chest. He really should have put it away, but he didn't want to let it out of his sight so soon. Clothes were a privilege and not a right.

He was looking forward to putting them on, but the next morning he was told to strip, and was then sprayed off with the hoses in preparation for an operation. Dr. Crescent was there, which meant it was probably an important one.

Once the sedatives were in his system he couldn't do much more than move his eyes, but from what he could see from his position on the operating table, there was something in a box that she and Hojo seemed excited about. It looked almost like a materia, and had the same sort of magical tug around it as one, but Cloud had never seen a white materia before.

He was jarred from any further contemplation when the operation began, the searing pain of the scalpel carving into his chest below his right pectoral making it significantly hard to focus on anything at all. He caught a word every now and then, about the Ancients, contact, naturally receptive. He couldn't make much sense of it, and it made even less sense when the materia was lowered into his abdominal cavity and the slow, excruciating process of sewing up what wouldn’t heal right away. After the drugs wore off, he kept quiet; both because he had not yet been addressed, and because something was concerning him.

It was strange -- although he was very, very much in contact with the materia now, the spell didn't come to him. There was no rush of knowledge, no easy recollection of all the ways one could reach into the Planet. It seemed to be reaching to him, trying to pull him somewhere, but to where he wasn't sure.

Maybe it was just because his chest hurt too much to focus. He hoped they wouldn't ask, because "nothing" was almost always a wrong answer.

After another hour or so, when he had been deposited back in his cell, he eagerly changed into the uniform -- his uniform -- and looked at his reflection in the sword. He was stronger now, his muscles more defined, and his features were sharper and more mature-looking than they had been when he was fourteen. The uniform was a bit big on him, since most Soldiers trended away from a slight build, but the shirt fit comfortably. His eyes were unmistakably glowing, and they even looked a little bit like Sephiroth's did, the pupils still just a bit more biconvex than they were perfectly round like a human's, as dilated as they were as the sedatives slowly worked their way out of his system.

It had been quite a while since he had seen his reflection (months? years?), and it was with a small jolt that he realised it was him, in that Soldier uniform, with those mako eyes, looking like a grown-up. He spent the rest of the night staring back at his reflection in the dim (though not for him) light provided by his eyes.

He didn't feel any older. He couldn't quite remember how old he'd been when he had first come here. Fifteen? Maybe sixteen. He'd been thinking of himself as such for long enough. The further back he thought, the less there was to remember. Maybe the doctors knew how old he was.

Could he buy lottery tickets? Cigarettes? Booze? Could he get married? Own a house? It had been a long time since he'd thought about any of these things, but looking at his face -- a man's face, a Soldier's face -- brought it all flooding back. These were things he wanted when he was younger. Things that came with being a grown man in Soldier.

For the first time in a while, he thought about the name tied to all those old worries. Cloud. This is what Cloud wanted, wasn't it?

He quashed the thought almost immediately, as though it were an unpleasant image. It wasn't allowed to be his name. That was bad, like Cloud. He knew how to not do anything bad anymore.

He realised after another moment that much of it wouldn't matter -- he was Shinra's now, and if Shinra hadn't mentioned these things to him yet, they probably wouldn't at any later point either. He wouldn't need any property beyond his sword, or companionship beyond the company. Shinra was his home. He rarely ate food these days either, receiving much of his nutrition intravenously.

There was something else he had wanted with Soldier, too, the reason it had been his dream, but he couldn't remember what it was anymore.

It probably wasn't important.

There was something that felt wrong this time. It was night, Aeris could tell. She'd deliberately waited to avoid another encounter with Cloud's family in the middle of the day. One thing at a time.

She was pretty sure Cloud was here -- at least, something was. But there were no thoughts coming from the presence; no steady stream of resentment bleeding into her perception. It was little more than a niggling feeling in the back of her head, the way the "whiteboard" was.

She felt something on her hand and looked down -- there was a young woman sitting next to Cloud in bed, her fingers laced around his. She appeared to have fallen asleep sitting next to him. He had been propped up against the wall. Some sort of animal appeared to be asleep across his lap. It was quiet here, and both the woman and the animal were curled up quite closely to her. The blanket even seemed to be handmade. It would have been nice if it didn’t feel incredibly intrusive, which she supposed it was.

It's me again, said Aeris. No response. That wasn't right.

...Hello? Cloud? If you're willing, I'd like to talk. And apologise

Something seemed to brush up against her as she said his name, but it was so faint she wasn't sure she imagined it. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on it.

She felt her way towards the something -- there was something here. She was sure of it. As she listened, she could feel bits of thought occasionally congealing before disappearing again. Something was definitely wrong here.

Well, she didn't know what this was. But someone else would.

She extracted her hand from the young woman's and gently shook her. "Psst. Wake up," she whispered.

The young woman did not wake up. The animal did, and she managed to choke down a gasp as she saw that it was apparently on fire. Before she could shake the woman harder, the animal opened its mouth.

"You're awake!" it said. "I was worried, you haven't been this long in a while..."

"...You talked."

The animal (wolf? lion? it certainly seemed too big to be a dog) stared at her, cocking its head to the side, and then bared its teeth.

"You're not Cloud," it said in a growl.

"I -- no, I'm not. I came to apologise," said Aeris. "What's wrong with Cloud? He's not... he's not here."

"And whose fault is that?" It had walked itself forward and was now snarling in her face.

"Not mine. He was like this when I got here."

"Well, you're most likely making it worse."

"Just -- listen," Aeris hissed. "I came here to try and fix things. And I can't do that if I don't know what's going on because no one will tell me anything."

"...Cloud is having an episode," said the... something, glancing at a digital clock by the bed -- a digital clock that used a twelve hour system, maybe? "This one has lasted ten hours and forty-nine minutes. I had hoped he had finally thrown it off, but it was just you."

"An episode of what?" There shouldn’t be any reason what she’d been doing would have given him any brain damage (well, apart from the incident with the coma), but anything further and she’d have to call off the project anyway. Talking was one thing. Scrambling someone’s brains was another.

"Cloud has sustained severe and continuous psychic damage over the last decade. It is difficult for him to maintain his sense of self. It is an ongoing battle, and on occasion he loses ground."

"What do you mean, ‘psychic damage’? From what?”

“That is Cloud’s business. Not yours.”

“And... how long is he usually like this?"

"It's difficult to say. It could be a few hours, or a few days. His longest was a little over two weeks."

Two weeks with their contact point out of commission... that could end the project, and doing things achronologically was nigh unworkable.

She had another thought, then, of a headline -- “DISGRACED SCIENTIST FIRED. RUINS THE LIFE OF BRAIN-DAMAGED BYSTANDER. ACTUALLY WORSE THAN MENGELE.” She pushed it away.

"What's your name?" asked Aeris. The dog-thing stared at her suspiciously.

"Nanaki. I am visiting until Cloud gets better and you go away."

"And you're..." Calling something that could talk a "pet" would probably be a bit rude, even if she was reasonably certain that was the case in one way or another. Who else let their friends sleep in their beds? Not that she couldn’t see why. She wondered if he would allow her to feel his fur.

"I am Nanaki," said Nanaki shortly. "I'll be waking Yuffie now."

"Wait!"

Nanaki stared at her. "For what?"

"...Maybe I could help. I can sort of feel him... moving?" That wasn't the right word. "He's here. I could talk to him."

"You do that. I am going to wake Yuffie now anyway."

"Don't --" she shook her head and let it drop. Priorities -- dealing with whatever fugue state this was.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the strange presence that wasn't the whiteboard. If she hadn't been deliberately looking for it, she wouldn't have noticed it as anything more than occasional intrusive thoughts in the back of her mind. Whatever it was, it wasn't truly thinking.

She tried writing to it in the way she wrote to the whiteboard. Hello, she said.

Hello came the reply, but it was merely an echo of her own words; stimulus, response.

It's me Aeris, she thought. It's me Aeris, echoed the parts that weren't really a person. They began to twist closer to her.

I came here to talk to you. If you can hear me please give me a sign. Again, she heard the not-a-person echo her thoughts -- no, not echo. They'd been thinking them at the same time.

Cloud? Are you there? No, not thinking them -- she was thinking with those bits, as though they were just another part of her mind.

They began to congeal around her, and more and more they became another part of her thoughts. Stop it, they said, or she said. She tried to say to them, anyway, but there didn't seem to be any of them left.

He was gone. How could he be gone? He had just been there -- and now here he was, twisted up so deeply into her she couldn't tell what was her own mind and what was him, mimicking.

Not good. Not good at all, he had to be here; she searched her own thoughts frantically. She was here to talk to Cloud, and Zack had her count to thirty before she came here, and Lazard had taken a blood sample from her as part of a routine checkup --

She felt a thrill of repulsion run through her, and a very small part of her said no.

She thought more about the appointment. It had been just in case constantly drugging her was having adverse effects on her, she remembered. She had looked away from the needle going in, but she had watched it on the way out.

The thing that said no pulled away further, and it seemed to recognise itself then. Parts of her turned out to be the pieces she'd collected, and more and more of them identified themselves -- never again -- broke his arm -- I don't belong here. It became easier and easier to find the parts that had convinced themselves they weren't parts of anything else. She pulled away from some, and pushed others in towards each other, each thought connecting to another idea that distinctly wasn't her, and for some reason despised having its blood drawn.

It was still twisted up against her, but it was distinctly no longer her.

Who, it asked. She hadn't told him to do that.

Are you feeling alright? She replied.

I'm here, he said, as if to remind himself. I'm here. I'm Cloud.

Someone was touching her, and she opened her eyes to see Yuffie twisting her arm behind her back. She sighed. "I'm not going anywhere," said Aeris.

"Fat chance," said the woman. "I shoulda kept a better eye on you last time."

Aeris sat up and pulled her arms away from her back -- Cloud was a lot stronger than her, it seemed. She still needed to ask about that business with the motorcycle.

"See? I’m helping. I can hear him," said Aeris. "There's something wrong with his head. What do I do?"

"You leave," said Nanaki.

"Fine. I'll figure it out myself. Should be easy enough," said Aeris, and closed her eyes again.

I'm here, she could hear him saying. He was still built around her and through her, using her to define what was and wasn't himself.

...I thought I'd apologise, said Aeris. I likely sounded bossy and rude. So I thought I could start by telling you a little about myself in exchange.

Cloud said nothing. She wasn't sure if he could really hear her.

I'm from Reading, and I study physics in London. That's a really large city in the United Kingdom. We have a queen, and a prime minister. Neither one of them really does much of anything for the country, but at least people like the queen. It felt strange, narrating to herself and and knowing someone was there to listen.

My parents, they studied physics as well. Most people in England, they live with their parents until they become adults. Mine are gone though. I didn't know many people besides them, so it was very difficult. She could feel him listening now, a gentle probing against what she was saying. When I turned out to be good at physics too, it was decided that I should get into the field as well. It's all very fascinating. And now, I'm picking up the project they left behind.

I'm not from Reading, she heard him say, as though trying to convince himself.

No, I'd imagine you aren't, said Aeris. Where are you from?

Nibelheim. I'm from Edge. I'm from Nibelheim. I'm from 6 7 dark in the storage room don't make me go back don't want to go back I'm from 3 I'm from Nibelheim Sector 7 Edge Nibelheim Midgar please don't make be go back 7th Heaven off Reedgrass and 25th.

She needed to get him... out, for lack of a better word. This was too much information too fast. She wondered if he was getting about the same experience from her.

Then he asked, Yuffie?

Aeris started slightly. ...No, I'm not Yuffie. I'm Aeris. I came to apologise.

She didn't get a response that was articulated with any words, but there was a good amount of confusion and unease rather than the expected hostility.

I'm not from Reading, he said again. I'm not from Reading...

Something clicked into place then, and she felt a stab of pain shoot through her that had her gasping out loud. She reached up to grasp at her head, but her arm stopped halfway and put itself back down.

"She's here again," she felt herself involuntarily say.

"Yeah, I know," said the woman. "What should I do? Should I get Tifa, or... you're awake."

"I am," said Cloud, as Aeris felt her jaw part and her mouth moving to form words she had no input in making. And then she blurted out, "I said I was here to help. I just want to talk. I --"

Her speech broke off into a sharp gagging noise as the throat they were both using tried to say two things at once. Nanaki looked between her and the other woman helplessly.

"I'm going to talk to Cloud for a bit," she said slowly. "Then I will leave."

"...Two hours," said Yuffie. "Or I'll..." she glanced at Nanaki, who didn't seem to know how to finish the threat either.

"Yes. Two hours." She closed her eyes again and leaned back against the wall again.

What happened? she asked Cloud. He must have still been a bit disoriented, because what he said next didn't make much sense.

I've been trying to push in since you started doing this, but it was too hard. You let me in. I thought you did this. I don't know why you let me think and move this time, and not the others.

...What do you mean? The others? The earlier runs, probably.

That's the only way I know to describe it. I wanted to move but you wouldn't let me. And now you are letting me. That's what it feels like.

Well -- look, I was serious when I said I was sorry, pressed Aeris. So... if I'm gonna ask you a bunch of questions, then you should ask something too. Does that sound fair?

...You helped me, said Cloud.

Sorry?

You... in my head, you talked to me. It... it helps to hear people talk.

Oh. Well... least I can do.

He was quiet for a while. He seemed conflicted about something.

...How are you doing this? he asked eventually.

Well, began Aeris, I do a lot of very complicated calculations based around that signal I mentioned earlier -- the one we found coming from this world, that has something to do with you. Then I get into a tank with a lid that's filled with liquid gallium, and some other metals. Brainwaves are just electrical signals, after all. We pick up those signals, and we can tweak one set of signals into another to match mine.

Is that what you're doing now? he asked.

Yes. Technically I'm asleep right now. I'm writing down what we're saying on -- well, that's another conversation. I'm keeping track of it, though.

...So, you didn't... do anything to me?

What do you mean? she asked nervously. Whatever the implication was, it seemed unpleasant.

To do this. You didn't do anything to me. I'm not... I'm not different from how I was before you started this?

I doubt it, said Aeris. I don't quite understand why the data we obtained led us to you, but since it did, I don't think it's very possible that we might have based that data on you before even meeting you.

...So, we're humans. And so are you, apparently.

Well… I think so, said Aeris. In a manner of speaking.

"In a manner of speaking"?

Yes. You mostly look like what humans in my world look like, but I think there might be a few differences. I'm not certain. Your family seems to be what I'm used to... mostly, anyway, the wolflion was new, but I couldn't help but notice your eyes --

Aeris felt her fists clench involuntarily.

What about 'em?

A sore subject. Perhaps there were different subspecies of humans, and this one was a minority. Well... I noticed earlier they glow. We have animals that naturally produce light in my world, but humans usually aren't one of them. Does it impair your vision any?

Shouldn't you know that by now? he deadpanned.

I... yes, I suppose I should. Are there many humans with glowing eyes here?

Not anymore, said Cloud. And it's not a normal thing. They're from mako treatments.

...What's mako?

There was a pause. What do you mean, what's mako? It's -- never mind. They used to use it to power stuff --

-- until it was outlawed. Yes, I remember that from yesterday. But... it's a medication, as well as a fuel source?

Not a medication. Performance enhancer. I've had five years worth of shots and tissue infusions of it.

Performance... that's how you lifted that motorcycle. Not everyone can do that?

No. Just me.

And anyone else that's had those... injections. Are they legal? How many others are there?

They were legal -- they were issued by Shinra. And there's nobody left anymore. They're all dead.

Was it a health compli --

I thought I was asking the questions here, snapped Cloud.

I'm trying to get some common ground here. A lot of what you've been saying doesn't make much sense to me. Things like "materia" and "mako" and --

Well... maybe you can tell me the kinds of things you do know, he said, and for some reason this reply didn't seem as testy as the others.

I could tell you about the people on the team with me.

...How many of you are there?

There’s six of us. I suppose technically there’s more, since we’re funded by CERN, but there’s six of us specifically on this project.

...What’s CERN?

It’s the organisation I’m part of. We study physics.

Physics? He said it as though he didn’t quite believe her.

Yes. You know, different kinds of matter, spacetime, dark energy. Things like that.

So if you’re a physicist, how come you’re messing around with me?

Like I said before, that’s what I want to find out. This was an accident, sort of, finding you. We know how this works, but not so much why. Or maybe it’s the other way around…

Just physics, though?

Well, I mostly study physics. So does Fair, albeit a different application of them. And Hewley mostly does maths, which is sort of a purer form of physics -- which we’ll need when we start planning things like navigation. Lazard is a medical doctor, just in case something goes wrong, because we won’t be able to leave for medical attention.

...And why’s that?

Well, this place is a clean room, isn’t it? Say one of us showed up on your doorstep tomorrow --

Please don’t.

...Hypothetically. If I came straight there, there’s a good chance both of us would die.

Probably. If I didn’t kill you, someone else would.

That’s… well, that’s not really what I meant. Like… let’s say -- you have colds in your world, right? Something you get sick with for a day or two?

Yeah, we have colds and the flu and stuff.

Well, let’s say that we didn’t. If I went to your house and was around you, I’d pick up whatever you were carrying and bring it back home with me. Even if it didn’t make you very sick, it could kill us because we have no natural immunity to it and no way to treat it. The same goes for you. So we’re locked in here with no contact from anyone else for a few weeks at a time, for your safety and ours. There’s an even cleaner clean room in the middle of the facility too.

Sounds like you’re talking about a lab.

There are parts of it that are labs, yes. Tseng has one for biology things. I don’t really understand much of what he’ll be doing, but then that’s why he’s doing it and not me. But viruses are viruses. Even if neither one of us are sick, we could still transmit something to one another.

...What do you mean? There was a hint of suspicion in his “voice” again, but this time it seemed tinged with interest.

Well, the way I understand it, viruses make more of themselves by changing your DNA to pump out more of them. Even after you’ve recovered, they’re still there in your system for good -- sorry, I’m not -- you’re familiar with the concept of DNA, right? Do you call it something else?

We know what DNA is, he said shortly. And I know how viruses work.

Ah… good. Then you know how --

Yes.

I haven’t even said anything.

I know what viruses are.

...Out of curiosity, what do you know about them?

There was another pause as he seemed to be considering something.

Most of what you already said. They latch onto a host, rewrite the DNA of the host cell. Really contagious. They’re sort of… the odd phylum out, because they’re alive, but they’re not actually alive the way bacteria are, and that’s a hard thing to wrap your head around. They exist to make more of themselves because that’s what they are. Anything in that weird in-between space that acts the way that does, we call that a virus.

That seems about right, said Aeris, even if the last bit hadn’t quite been clear. For someone with a hatred of modern medicine he sure seemed to know a lot about it. Do they usually teach that kind of thing in schools here?

I guess so. We went over it a little before I dropped out. I didn’t learn it in school though.

...When did you drop out? He did seem the type, now that he mentioned it.

I kinda stopped going to classes when I was eleven. But I left officially when I was thirteen. Spent three months on the road on the way to Midgar. Probably missed a lot of stuff I should know, but Tifa usually helps me out with the bookwork.

...Why did you leave? Aeris herself had technically finished grade school when she was thirteen, but leaving voluntarily was completely unthinkable. Was it a money issue? How long does school usually last?

Sort of. I thought it would be nice to help out Ma with the whole food thing. So I went and enlisted.

...Enlisted? That didn’t sound good. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

Yeah. You know, military, police, military police… they mostly deployed me in Midgar, though I got sent to Wutai a lot during my first year. Mostly cleaning up pockets of resistance hiding out in the jungle. Work for disposable grunts...

You… they dep -- how old were you?

Fourteen. What’s your problem? He likely could feel her disgust and sadness slowly settling in, and it was probably giving him the wrong idea.

Fourteen.

Yeah. I mean, I did leave a little late. Everyone else in my squad was twelve, except for a couple guys in their thirties that just never got promoted. I got enough shit from them about dragging my feet, I don’t need it from you.

Sorry. I just… where I come from, that -- letting children into the military... it’s considered a war crime, she said weakly. There was a brief pause. If they’d been speaking aloud, she would have been sure he’d snorted in disbelief.

What’s a “war crime? asked Cloud.

Definitely not good. And absolutely as bad as it sounded. Before she could reply properly, someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped and reflexively swatted at whatever was in front of her, but for some reason her hand came up short of actually touching anything. Cloud was determinedly holding still.

Watch it, he warned. Yuffie, who was sitting in front of her, had flinched away from her arm.

“Sorry,” said Aeris. “Has it been two hours already?”

“No,” grumbled Yuffie, edging away from her just in case. “But I’m getting everyone else up. You’ve got questions to answer.”

“I -- I also have some questions,” said Aeris, her voice sounding slightly panicked. “How is it that none of you have heard of war crimes?”

Yuffie stared at her. “I mean… it’s a war, right? The whole thing is made of crimes. It seems a little redundant to make a word for that kind of thing. You can’t exactly march up to soldiers or world leaders and arrest them for fighting a war the way wars get fought. I mean, maybe they do where you’re from, but...”

Aeris just gawked. Cloud took the opportunity to speak up then.

“She’s been asking about physics a lot,” he said. “Can you get Cid? I can’t make heads or tails of any of this, and I’d like to sleep soon. The WRO’s gonna be here in the morning, I think.”

“Who --” began Aeris. Then she shook her head. We need to come up with a system.

What “system”? replied Cloud rather irritably. You’re the one that’s letting me do this suddenly. Even though you didn’t have much of a problem forcing me to do whatever before.

I didn’t know! I didn’t… never mind. Just -- I don’t know how I’m “letting” you. Your head was a bit funny when I came here. Maybe it has something to do with that.

I’ve got a system for you. You keep quiet and let me talk for once.

...Alright. That’s fine.

“Just… get everyone,” she felt herself say. “I wanna get this settled.”

Nanaki stared at her hard, then exchanged a look with Yuffie, who turned to her and said, “Password?”

What does she -- ?

“The hell are you talking about?” said Cloud, voicing her own confusion.

“The real Cloud knows the password,” replied Yuffie without missing a beat.

“Fuck off, no I don’t.”

Yuffie nodded to Nanaki. “Yeah, it’s him.” Nanaki sniffed and padded out of the room to fetch more onlookers to complicate things.

...Now what? asked Aeris.

Now, said Cloud, we get a few things straight.

Control, or at least the illusion of it. Gods, he’d missed this. It was something he experienced in brief spurts during a repair, or in the middle of a fight -- periods where Cloud knew exactly what he was doing, how he was going to do it, and why. There was a clear problem and a path to a solution and Cloud would force a straight line between the two because it was the easiest way to do things.

“She says her name is Aeris Gainsborough,” he said, “and that she’s human. She doesn’t seem to know anything about Jenova, or the WRO. She’s part of a group called Sern, or something like that. I wasn’t supposed to be part of this. We’re trying to figure out why I am.”

“How’d she get ahold of you?” asked Cid.

Cloud shook his head. “We don’t know that either. She mentioned something about a pattern --” he paused as Aeris filled him in on more information, trying to keep himself focused on some point in the room so no one would comment on his eyes glazing over, “-- but the person that discovered it died years ago. So we’ll have to answer a lot of these questions ourselves.”

“If she’s a human, how is she doing this?” asked TIfa. She’d positioned herself in front of the window and kept glancing at the door as well. Cloud shrugged.

You explain it, he told her.

And she did, and he felt his mouth move involuntarily as she launched off into another explanation. Something about broadcasting, and other universes, and distinct electrical signals, and waypoints.

“...and he’s the only one there is, and we don’t really know why. There were others at first, but they all flashed out in seconds. I don’t know why that is either.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

“...Well, the WRO’s going to be here tomorrow morning anyway,” said Reeve. “We’ll know for sure by then.”

“If you’re humans, I guess y’all live on the Planet, right? One of ‘em, anyway,” said Cid, looking a bit disappointed.

...What does he mean by that? Is there only one planet here? What happened to the others? probed Aeris. From the pictures we got of your sky we know there are probably other planets out there, so --

The Planet is the one we’re on, he said. Why would you think there’s only one? How many Planets do you live on?

Just the one, replied Aeris. But you just… you call your world “the Planet”. It doesn’t have a name?

No. What other Planet would we be talking about? It doesn’t need a name; if it wanted one, it would ask for one.

...You just call it “the Planet”, then?

Yeah. Why, don’t you?

No. We call ours Earth.

...So, you’re getting on me for us knowing what planet we’re obviously talking about, but you call your planet “dirt” just to be sure.

“He’s zoned out again. Someone pinch him,” he suddenly heard Jessie say from in front of him. He blinked hard and brushed her hand away rather firmly.

“I’m fine.” He leaned back against the wall, yawning. “She says it’s called Earth.”

“Sounds fake,” said Cid. “Let’s say I buy that. Best case scenario, who’d you want to be in contact with? ‘Cause the space program was dissolved over a decade ago, and starting up a new one’s been outlawed as treason.”

“What? Why?” said Aeris, using his mouth again.

Stop that, he snapped.

I’m trying.

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you ain’t the first alien we’ve brushed up against,” drawled Cid. There was a glint in his eye that Cloud hadn’t seen there since the night before.

“It was decided it was… safer,” supplied Reeve in a clipped tone. “Given that we have no way of knowing what else was out there. We would likely not survive a second confrontation. Of course, this may count as an exception given this isn’t really an airspace violation.”

…”What else”?

Long story, said Cloud, rubbing his forehead. ...Though I guess it’s one I’ll probably have to tell you anyway.

“There’s a lot of countries involved,” he continued aloud. “So there are a lot of people that are interested in the project continuing. They’re here for information, she says.”

...Who are all these people? asked Aeris. You never really said. You mentioned family, but you never said how.

“...She wants to know who you are,” relayed Cloud. “Personally, I think. And how we met.” He got another flash of confusion from Aeris and wasn’t sure why. He was answering her question, he thought.

There was another pause as a glance went around the room. Cid was the first to speak up.

“Cid Highwind,” he said. “Used to be into aeronautics. I’m the one that deciphered your vandalism. Met Cloud when I joined Avalanche.”

“Reeve Tuesti,” said Reeve. “Senior member of the World Regenesis Organisation. I was… initially sent to gather intelligence on Cloud. I met him properly when I joined Avalanche.”

Intelligence? I thought you said you were a mechanic.

I am a mechanic. I used to not be a mechanic. Shut up and listen.

“I’m Tifa Lockhart. Cloud and I grew up in the same town. We…”

“You don’t have to tell her anything,” said Cloud. “In fact, you probably shouldn’t tell her anything about that in the first place.”

So… it’s complicated? Is that why you were sleeping with that other girl when I got --

Shut up.

“Fine, then. I had to leave Nibelheim when it burned, and I met up with Cloud in Midgar five years later. I convinced him to join Avalanche, and he lives above my bar now.”

What’s Avalanche?

A group we used to be part of. We blew up reactors, fought Shinra, saved a bunch of people…

Er --

I said it was a long story. Later.

“I am Nanaki,” said Nanaki. “I met Cloud during his incarceration in the Shinra Tower. I joined Avalanche as a matter of prudence, given we were both fleeing from the military in the same direction, but I stayed as a matter of personal attachment.”

“Lady Yuffie Kisaragi of the Golden Kingdom of Wutai,” said Yuffie. “I tried to mug Cloud ‘cause he looked like a dumbass. I joined Avalanche to mug him some more because he definitely was a dumbass and let me. Now we’re friends. I still take his stuff sometimes. It’s a game we play.”

"It's really not," said Cloud quickly.

"Then stop leaving your wallet around in the back of your dresser drawer where anyone can find it and I'll start taking you seriously," retorted Yuffie, pointedly dangling it in front of him. He snatched it out of her hands. She'd probably taken it when he was asleep.

"Barret Wallace," said Barret. "Mr. Wallace or 'sir' to you. I hired Cloud as part of Avalanche. Abdicated due to... personal reasons, and 'cause I got sick of him taking all my damn money. Let him handle the payroll for a change."

"I'm Jessie Mahoney, and I was working for Avalanche as our technician when Cloud signed on," she said. "I dated him twice and dumped him because he was a giant prick the whole time and Tifa's the only one that can put up with it. We still hang out though," she added, as Cloud shrank a bit further into the bed.

Ignore that.

Absolutely not.

"...Aeris is from Reading," he said eventually. "She likes space."

You like space, right?

I do like space! Though I wouldn't say that's my specialty. So, that's your family? They're all former co-workers.

Yeah. What's wrong with that?

Nothing. I love all of them, she said enthusiastically. Only...

What?

Do you not have any relatives? Or are families not organised by blood here?

Usually they are. I said already I didn't have any. They died years ago.

Oh. Well, your family's brilliant and I like them already. Tell them I said hello.

"...She says hi," he added lamely. He got a chorus of monotone "hey"s from around the room.

So, the stories behind these people are as good as they sound, aren't they?

I guess. I mean, we all kinda met in unusual --

There was a knock on the door downstairs. They all froze.

"They're here awfully early," commented Tifa. "After all that time they spent dragging their feet..."

"Can't be, can it?" said Cloud, frowning. "It's probably Reno doing something scummy."

The knock returned, louder this time, and someone downstairs who distinctly wasn't Reno announced themselves as a driver for the WRO. Cloud slid himself out of bed.

"Everyone clear out, I gotta get dressed." So much for sleep.

Cloud watched everyone file out, then began to shrug off his pyjamas.

Wait -- I'm still --

Then leave. Not my problem.

That's not the... Her voice trailed off as she forced him to stop and stare at his skin, or more accurately, what was decorating nearly every inch of it.

What happened to you?

Oh. You mean...? Stabbed a bunch, among other things.

...You’ve led an eventful life, then.

I guess so. Avalanche picked me up as a mercenary. It was Tifa’s idea to join. I remember I almost left after the second job when they cut my pay.

I don’t know why you’d leave. There was an unusual pause, where she seemed to be focused on something he couldn’t see. I’d love to have a family like that.

Why, what’s yours like?

My parents died a few years ago. I haven’t dated in a while. I guess this project is the first time I’ve gotten to talk to someone in a long time. Another pause. What are they like? That dog, he seems nice.

Nanaki’s not a dog.

Well, what is he, then?

...We always thought it was rude to ask, so nobody ever did.

Do you suppose he would be mad if I pet him?

...I mean, maybe not. You’d have to ask.

I’m going to next time I come back. He looks like he’d appreciate a good pet.

Don’t make it weird.

I’m not, she said indignantly. And another question -- do you always sleep together like that?

Not… not for a while, I guess, said Cloud. We used to, on the road.

It was kind of nice, she said.

Yeah, he said after a moment. It was.

It took him another couple minutes to get dressed, because Aeris was torn between wanting to examine more of his body and attempting to respect his privacy, which meant Cloud had a difficult time looking at what he was doing at all. She'd taken a particular interest in his boots, or more specifically, what was stuck in the treads of them (scientists, complete nutters, every last one). Then he'd buckled on his harness and loaded his sword into them.

...What's that for?

It's a sword. You use it to kill stuff and defend yourself.

...And... you expect to kill someone during this visit? Will they be alright with you bringing a weapon?

I don't know. It never hurts to be safe, right?

As it turned out, the WRO was very much not on board with him bringing his sword with him, and after a heated argument insisted he at least have it in the back seat rather than in his hand. He reluctantly agreed, if only because he could probably set the driver on fire and retrieve it faster than they could pull a gun on him.

Aeris stared out the window through most of the drive, staring at the city as it blurred past them, which was actually fine by Cloud; he didn't care much for cars. Too cramped. There had been a time when he'd been just as enthusiastic about them as he was with bikes, but that was before he'd spent a fifth of his life locked in very small spaces. Any distractions were more than welcome, even if they came in the form of someone forcing him to stare at every single street sign and pedestrian she came across. She even seemed fascinated by the brief view of the Wastes they caught when they were on a highway overpass.

Aeris suddenly sat up straighter and addressed him.

I figured it out!

...Figured what out?

What was different about your city. I haven't seen a single plant anywhere, the entire time I've been here. Apart from the wood you've made things out of. What happened to them all? In my world, they usually plant grass and things in cities. Do they not do that here?

...Not in Edge, said Cloud. We're too close to where the reactors used to be. Nothing really grows here anymore without a lot of coaxing. They're not gonna waste that energy on things like grass and flowers when it has to go to things like food and lumber. Most wood we have to import in.

That's...

I've seen real flowers before, said Cloud proudly. There was this jungle we were visiting. They were everywhere. You see the pictures, but it never really captures the smell right. One day, I'm gonna go back and visit.

Aeris was silent.

There were flowers just outside Nibelheim too, when I was little, he continued. Tiny blue ones. I don't remember them, though. That's what Tifa says.

...I have a garden at home, said Aeris. I grow different flowers and mints and things. Maybe I'll bring pictures, if we ever --

Silence.

If you ever what?

No response. The strange presence in his head seemed to have vanished, and he felt the beginnings of nausea begin to creep in. Before he could investigate any further, the vehicle ground to a halt.

"We're here," said the driver. Cloud let himself out and immediately fished his sword out of the back seat, the expanse of the facility they'd driven to looming ahead of him. It had been built fairly recently on the outskirts of Edge, and there was still construction equipment littered outside of it. Tifa and Reeve emerged from another car that had pulled up beside him.

"We're right here with you," said Tifa. Cloud nodded, and slipped his sword into his harness anyway.

"Why did you pull me?!"

"Shh!" That was Tseng, clamping a hand over her mouth and hauling her out of the tank with Zack. For some reason, half the computers against the wall were in the process of rebooting.

"We had a power issue," he explained in a low murmur. "And when we went to sort it out, we --"

"Something moved. I saw it. I know I saw it. It followed us up here," whispered Zack, anxiously glancing around. "It was big. Way bigger than a rat."

"What would even be in here with us?" hissed Aeris, removing his hand from her mouth. "This entire compound is sealed off."

"Maybe something came through?" muttered Zack. "Can't have, though, the centre room's still closed off."

They sat in silence for another few minutes. There were no sounds beyond their own breathing, and the dripping of NC fluid onto the floor. A faint hum could still be felt coming from below them, and Zack was still staring fixedly at the maintenance hatch set into the floor by the wall. It sat there, unremarkable as always. The whiteboard flickered back to life.

"...You must have imagined it," said Lazard eventually. "We've all been cooped up here too long. It's getting to us. The next restock period is in a couple days, at least."

"I didn't imagine it. It was... I don't know what it looked like," broke off Zack, frowning. "I saw -- it was something. I was looking at it, but when I looked at it, it was like... like I didn't want to see it, so I couldn't."

"We need to get out of here for our own mental health," said Angeal. "We're well ahead of schedule, at least. Did we save the transcript?"

"Right here," said Cissnei, patting one of the computers. "I dumped it as soon as the lights started flickering."

"You're not authorised to be using those," warned Angeal. Cissnei rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I will delete it."

"Thank you, you're a valuable part of this team," interjected Aeris. "Speaking of which, you read --"

"Yeah, we read it," said Zack. "Part of it, anyway."

Aeris approached the computer. "What do you mean?" she asked, then leaned in and saw for herself.

We know what DNA is and I know how viruses work.

Good. Then you know how

yconfirming@@*@

not said anよything.

I know what viruses are.

Out of curiosity what do you know about them?

Most of what you already said. They latch onto a host, rewrite the DNA of the host cell. They are very contagious. they 門6226s7xuuu8subecause they 偽 infect65535ria are and that’s わ a hard thing to unれderstand they exist πολ8xujれονται. Anything with behaviour between in not 4μεtween, we call that a virus.

That seems about rigわht. do they usuallれのy teach that kind of thing in schools here?

I guess so. We went over it a little before I dropped out. I didn’t learn it in school though.

when did you drop out?

I sort of stopped going to claこs000learn90 when I was elevどe11111ten one. But I left officially when I was thirteen. Spent 3 akkkkkkkkkkkkk traξid missing should know, but Teefa usually helps me out with the booもkkeeping.

"A good chunk of it's like that," said Cissnei as Aeris scrolled through, hoping to god she’d remembered to switch it off for part of the conversation. The official report did not need details of her personal life in it. "Most of it we can parse, but..."

"I thought we fixed this bug," said Aeris. Most of it looked more or less legible, at least. Good.

"We thought it was caused by the partial," said Angeal. "But it seems like there's some sort of interference bleeding through this time. Tseng and I will look into it."

Tseng nodded. "We have something to work with, it seems, but..." he gestured to the bits of the transcript that were legible. The ones about war crimes and the potential for an international incident across two worlds.

"Mm," nodded Aeris. "Do you think we could ask for an official diplomat during the restock period?"

"It wouldn't be out of the question," said Tseng. "It explains a lot of the hostility, too. They're expecting the worst because it's not out of the question for them to expect it.

"So... the situation as it stands is that we are in contact with a likely shellshocked former child soldier from a world with no equivalent of the Geneva Convention. It may have been obvious, but that would explain why his expectations of us are likely not good."

"We really oughta ask for a shrink, if Lazard can't do it for us," said Zack. "Like, I'm just saying, it just turned into a necessity."

“I thought you said he wouldn’t want a professional anything in his face?” quipped Aeris. Zack shrugged. "Look, there's a lot to go over," she added. "I'm getting back in in six hours. I want to know more about the rest of them. Especially that aeronautics man. He said they'd already had first contact with someone, and it's probably a good story and no one wants to talk about it."

She retreated back to her room to sleep off the meds. Lazard must have been at least partially right about drugging her for as long as they were, because she had very strange dreams.

The sky was burning, the ugly red colour of an open wound. It whispered to her things she couldn't understand, and behind all of it she heard music -- the most beautiful, terrible sound she'd ever heard. She covered her ears and looked out at the city, and then at the low roar coming from above them, and gasped. It was big. Too big. Aeris didn't think she'd ever seen anything that big before in person. But the more she looked, the more she felt it was looking at her, and the more she felt an insatiable hunger, and a spark of rage that kept growing and growing --

The world ripped in half. She was dead, she knew. She had to be. But she wasn't afraid -- she was returning to where she needed to be. It was time to finally be let out --

Aeris awoke with a jerk and stared at the ceiling, reorienting herself. She could have sworn, though, that the whispers were still echoing around the room, if only for a moment.