The screen flickered once—just a momentary blip—before stabilizing again. The message board was covered with notices proclaiming: "I am winning currently." and "I am currently winning." each time stamped one minute apart.
Nobody noticed. Nobody ever did. The bartender kept wiping the same glass for the third time, his thick fingers leaving fresh smudges on the already cloudy surface. Tempokai typed furiously to finish his philosophical magnum opus.
At the far end of the pub, JayMark flexed his wings impatiently, the leathery membranes catching the dim lantern light as he adjusted his grip on the wand. It was an unassuming thing, really—just a slender stick with a little pink star duct-taped to the end—but the way he held it suggested he knew exactly what it could do. Shiriru_B was mid-"Wah!" when he took aim, her floppy ears twitching as she reached for a bowl of pretzels.
A piercing squeal came from nowhere—like a thousand mice suddenly realizing they'd been stepped on—and the world blinked. The bartender froze mid-wipe. A pencil holder's mouth hung open mid-syllable. Then, as if someone had hit rewind, everything stuttered backward: ale sloshed back into the mug, the glass unsmudged itself, and JayMark's wings folded with an audible rustle.
Tempokai the philosopher, mid-sip from a cup of suspiciously glowing tea, suddenly found herself staring at her own reflection in the liquid—except it wasn’t hers. Wide, glittering eyes blinked back at her, framed by absurdly long lashes. A tiny, involuntary squeak escaped her lips. Across the room, Shiriru_B’s ears perked up. “Wah? That was a squeak!”
JayMark’s massive bull-face paled beneath his fur. The wand, still emitting a faint pink sparkle, trembled in his grip. “Uh,” he said, voice deeper than a cellar full of regret. “That wasn’t supposed to—” Navillus, who had been mid-“Nyan” into a plate of fried calamari, gasped so hard she inhaled a tentacle. “KYAAAA! Tempokai-chan is... MOE?!”
Tempokai’s teacup slipped from her fingers—except it didn’t shatter. It floated gently to the ground, cushioned by an inexplicable cloud of pastel sparkles. She touched her face, fingers brushing cheeks now impossibly soft. Words—once measured, philosophical diatribes—tumbled out in breathy hiccups. “I—oh my—why do I want to hug everything?!” Shiriru_B lunged across the table, nostrils flaring. “Wah! What did you do to Tempokai! He's a she! She's adorable! Change him back!” Her claws unsheathed, snagging the edge of Tempokai’s robes—now suspiciously frilly.
JayMark’s wings twitched. “Look, I might’ve… borrowed… the wand from ElijahRyne’s vacation luggage.” Laumy, the houseplant, let out a slow, rustling sigh. “…toldClasses you… shouldn’t… touch… his… stuff…” The bull-man’s ears drooped. “Yeah, well, it was supposed to be a prank!” He flicked the wand’s star—it promptly fell off, hitting the floor with a sad plink. The sparkles fizzled. Silence. Navillus, still chewing calamari, swallowed hard. “Nyan… so you’re saying…”
Tempokai blinked—once, twice—her new eyelashes fluttering like startled butterflies. A pamphlet slid from her sleeve: The Ethics of Transmogrification. She stared at it. It stared back. Then, without warning, she sneezed. A tiny rainbow poofed into existence above her head.
Shiriru_B’s jaw dropped. “WAH!” Tempokai whimpered, clutching her suddenly too-small robes. “This is highly irregular! Philosophers shouldn’t poof!”
JayMark groaned, rubbing his temples with hooves. “Okay, new plan—”
Navillus vaulted onto the bar, tail lashing. “Nyan-plan?! You broke ELIJAH’S WAND!” The bull flinched as she brandished a half-eaten calamari ring like a sword. “Do you KNOW what happens when you break Elijah’s stuff?!”
Laumy’s leaves trembled. “…last time… he turned… the docks… into… sentient… baguettes…”
Shiriru_B cracked her knuckles—then her neck—then, alarmingly, her tail. “Wah. Fine.” Her ears snapped upright, pupils sharpening into slits. The temperature dropped. Frost spiderwebbed across the pretzel bowl. “Ultra… Cool… Mode… ACTIVATE.” The air around her warped, her form flickering between solid and shadow.
Navillus’ fur stood on end. “NYAN?! SINCE WHEN COULD YOU—?!”
A single clawed hand raised. Silence. Shiriru_B’s voice dropped three octaves. “Coolness… is… TIMELESS.” She snapped her fingers. Ice crystals erupted in a perfect spiral around Tempokai—then shattered. The philosopher hiccuped, now wearing a tiny snowflake-patterned onesie. “Eep!” Shiriru_B’s coolness faltered. “…Wah. That was supposed to de-cute her.”
JayMark snorted. “Maybe try not aiming at her this time?” He ducked as Navillus hurled the calamari ring at his head. It stuck to his horn with a wet slap.
“NYAN-DUMBASS! YOU BROKE THE WAND’S RULES!” Nav pounced onto a stool, tail puffed to twice its size, “Elijah’s magic only reverses if you—oh no.” Her pupils shrank. Tempokai was now hugging Laumy’s pot, nuzzling the leaves. The plant emitted a strangled rustle. “…help… me… she’s… too… pure!"
Shiriru_B’s claws dug into the counter. “Wah! Okay, backup plan.” She whipped out a frayed scroll—Emergency Cute Containment Protocols—and slapped it down. “Step one: isolate the infected.”
The group stared at Tempokai, who was now attempting to braid her own hair with sparkles. A tiny unicorn plushie materialized in her lap.
“Infected?!” JayMark bellowed. “She’s adorablified!”
Navillus’ tail twitched like a live wire. “Nyan-uh, hate to break it to you, but she’s starting to… spread.” She pointed a trembling claw at the bartender’s glass—now sporting a hand-knit cozy. The turnip-futures man’s suspenders had morphed into striped candy canes. Laumy’s leaves curled inward. “…oh… no… it’s… airborne…”
JayMark fumbled for the broken wand, his hooves skidding on spilled sparkles. “Okay, okay, we just need to—MOOOOOO!” A sudden force yanked the wand from his grasp.
Tempokai—now floating two inches off the ground, haloed by cartoon hearts—held it aloft with a giggle. “Lookie!” She waggled it like a conductor’s baton. Shiriru_B lunged, but the philosopher pirouetted mid-air, her robes billowing into a frilly pink vortex. The wand pulsed.
Navillus tackled Shiriru_B behind an overturned table as a neon-pink shockwave rippled outward. The pub’s wooden beams sprouted polka dots. The bartender’s apron transformed into a lace bib. JayMark’s wings now flapped uselessly—they’d become giant, glittery butterfly props. “Nyan-catastrophe!” Navillus hissed, peering over the table’s edge. Tempokai was cooing at the wand, which had grown a tiny face and was blowing kisses. “Ohhhh, who’s a cutie wandy? You arrrrre!”
Shiriru_B’s fur stood on end. “Wah. This is worse than the time Laumy photosynthesized vodka.”
The plant in question was now wearing a miniature topiary tuxedo, leaves trembling as Tempokai patted its pot. “…why… do I… feel… tap-dancing… urges…?”
JayMark’s butterfly wings flapped pathetically, sending a shower of iridescent dust onto Navillus. She sneezed—and a tiny rainbow shot from her nose. “Nyan-asty!” She rubbed her snout, then froze. Her claws had turned pastel pink. “Oh no. Oh no no no—” Her protest morphed into a startled squeak as her tail poofed into a cotton-candy puff.
Shiriru_B’s ears drooped under the weight of suddenly sprouting bows. “Wah… this is…” She shook herself, sending a cascade of sparkles into the air. One landed on Laumy’s pot. The houseplant shuddered, then—with a sound like celery snapping—burst into bloom, its new flowers shaped like giggling cherubs. “…I’ve… made… peace… with… my… fate…” it mumbled, as a tiny top hat materialized atop its leaves.
“No,” Shiriru_B growled. She ripped the bows from her fur, flinging them into a nearby lantern. They burst into pastel flames. Navillus hissed—half in admiration, half in horror—as Shiriru_B grabbed a fork from the calamari plate. “Wah! Emergency Protocol Sub-Zero Coolness… ENGAGE!” She stabbed the fork into her own tail. Frostbite spiderwebbed outward, crystallizing the encroaching frills.
JayMark gaped. “Are you—?”
“Sacrificing… my… tail… to… the… Coolness… Gods? Wah… yes.” Her breath came in icy plumes. The frozen limb snapped off with a sound like breaking peppermint. Navillus screamed—not in terror, but in sudden realization—as the severed tail transformed mid-air into a katana of solid ice. Shiriru_B caught it between her teeth. “HAH! Still… cool!”
The creeping lace froze where it touched her paws. The frilly vortex around Tempokai stuttered, heart-shaped halos cracking under the sudden cold. The philosopher pouted—a lethal expression when backed by magically enhanced moe—and stomped her foot. A shockwave of glitter exploded outward, but Shiriru_B was already spinning, her ice blade carving a defensive sigil in the air. Frost met sparkles in a miniature supernova, filling the pub with the scent of burnt sugar.
Navillus shielded her eyes as stray ribbons of cuteness ricocheted off the frozen shield. One grazed JayMark’s hoof—instantly morphing his butterfly wings into a crocheted sweater vest. "Nyan-dammit!" he bellowed, batting at the pastel yarn now swallowing his torso. "Focus, dog girl!"
Shiriru_B didn’t answer. Her breaths came in visible white plumes, muscles coiled as she tracked the wand’s erratic movements. A single misstep—one stray giggle from that damned philosopher—and she’d be tying bows in her sleep.
Tempokai twirled, her frilly vortex accelerating into a candy-colored tornado. The wand’s duct-taped star flapped like a distress flag. "Oopsy~!" she chimed, accidentally pointing it at Laumy. The houseplant’s tuxedo melted into a sundress, its leaves now sprouting animated blush marks. "…kill… me…" it wheezed, as tiny animated birds began nesting in its petals. Shiriru_B’s grip on the ice blade tightened. Coolness wasn’t just aesthetic—it was survival. She’d sooner chew her own ears off than let a single "kawaii" syllable pass her lips.
The frost creeping up her arms was a temporary fix. She could feel it already—the warmth creeping in at the edges, the way her claws itched to pet something fluffy. A memory surfaced: five years old, tail wagging at a butterfly. She’d buried that version of herself in the tundra of discipline. Now it clawed at the permafrost of her soul. She plunged the ice katana into the floorboards, sending glacial fractals racing toward JayMark. "Bull-boy! Lick the wand!"
JayMark recoiled. "Moooooooo?! That’s—"
"YOUR mess!" Her voice cracked like glacial calving. Navillus, now sporting a polka-dot bandana, hissed through needle-sharp teeth. "Nyan-genius! Bulls can’t lick!" Shiriru_B snarled—then choked mid-snarl as her own fangs rounded into pearly nubs. Panic seized her throat. She headbutted the nearest keg, letting the pain anchor her. The wood cracked. The beer foamed over her forehead, freezing instantly into an icy helmet. Cool. Cold. Unbreakable.
Tempokai’s giggle pierced the chaos like a needle through frost. "Awwww, widdle puppy’s trying so haaaaard~!" The wand swiveled toward Shiriru_B’s exposed flank. Instinct kicked in—she backflipped over the bar, tail-stump twitching where the blade had sheared it clean. Glass shattered beneath her boots as she landed in a crouch. The bartender’s rag froze solid in her grip. She whipped it like a lasso, snagging a ceiling beam to swing clear as pink sparkles rained down.
Her lungs burned. Not from exertion—from containment. Every exhale threatened to sound like a whimper. She bit down on the inside of her cheek until copper flooded her tongue. Coolness was control. Control was survival. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let them see the trembling pup buried under years of practiced aloofness. The ice katana trembled in her grip. She snapped it in half and jammed the shards into her boots. The pain grounded her. The blood crystallized before it could stain the fur.
Tempokai’s vortex wobbled, shedding glitter like diseased confetti. The wand’s duct-taped star unraveled further, revealing circuitry beneath—ElijahRyne’s telltale tinkering. Shiriru_B’s pupils narrowed. Tech had rules. Rules could be exploited. She lunged, not toward the philosopher, but toward Laumy’s pot. The houseplant yelped as she uprooted it, dirt spraying in an arc. “Forgive me,” she growled—then hurled the screaming plant like a clay pigeon into Tempokai’s sparkle storm.
The collision sent a shockwave of cuteness ricocheting sideways. Laumy’s sundress petrified into a porcelain doll’s gown mid-flight. Tempokai squealed, instinctively swatting at the sudden foliage—and the wand’s trajectory jerked wildly. JayMark barely had time to moo in terror before pink lightning struck his left horn. It promptly sprouted a Hello Kitty charm. Shiriru_B didn’t pause to celebrate. She was already shredding her own sleeve with ice-shard claws, wrapping the fabric around her ears like makeshift armor. Cuteness required exposure. She’d reduce the vectors.
Then—the pub’s front door banged open inward.
Not with violence, but with the sheer, unrepentant force of a man who had definitely not authorized anyone to touch his things. Splinters hung suspended in the air for a heartbeat, each one catching the neon-pink glow of Tempokai’s vortex like tiny disco balls. A sandal-clad foot stepped through the wreckage, followed by a sunburnt nose twitching with the scent of malfunctioning magic.
ElijahRyne blinked. Once. Twice. His oversized Hawaiian shirt—patterned with aggressively cheerful pineapples—billowed in the sudden draft. "Oh," he said, voice flat as a tax audit. "You 'borrowed' it." The wand in Tempokai’s grip gave a pitiful whimper, its duct-taped star finally detaching entirely to flop onto the floor like a dying fish. The philosopher, mid-twirl, froze. Her frills deflated with a sound like a balloon animal committing seppuku.
JayMark’s wings twitched under their crocheted prison. "Uh," he offered, eyes darting to the exit now blocked by Elijah’s sunburned silhouette. "Technically—" The human held up a single, sandy finger. The temperature dropped thirty degrees. Shiriru_B’s makeshift ear armor froze solid; Navillus’ polka-dot bandana stiffened into a cardboard cowl. Even Laumy’s animated birds paused mid-chirp to gawk.
ElijahRyne stepped forward. Each footfall left a perfect, unsparkled footprint in the glitter-crusted floorboards. He plucked the wand from Tempokai’s limp fingers with the ease of someone retrieving a stolen pen. "My luggage," he said, examining the frayed duct tape, "is not a community chest." The wand gave a feeble spark—then dissolved into a puff of bureaucratic-looking paperwork. Form 27-B, subsection C: Unauthorized Magical Misuse.
The effect was instantaneous. Tempokai’s frilly vortex collapsed like a deflated bouncy castle, taking her cartoon halo with it. HIS robes—now decidedly un-frilled—slumped into their original drab folds.
JayMark’s crocheted wings unraveled thread by thread, the yarn retreating into the ether like chastised snakes. He tried to moo in protest but duct tap wrapped his snout.
Navillus’ polka-dots evaporated mid-nyan, leaving her fur blessedly plain. Even Laumy’s sundress wilted into compost.
ElijahRyne tucked the wand’s remains into his fanny pack with the finality of a judge slamming a gavel. “Current standings,” he announced, adjusting his sunglasses despite the pub’s gloom, “indicate I’m currently winning.”
The group stared. Shiriru_B, mid-transformation from ice-warrior back to disheveled dog girl, spat out a mouthful of melted katana. “Wah!?”
"I'm winning currently."
I don't see an edit anywhere on my post so I'm still cool not cute, that's the others job not mine. Now back to winning, where I belong.
