A Waltz Into the Unknown
Knuckles paces around the Denny’s, contemplating what to say. Everyone’s attention is glued to him. All eyes on him in the center of the ring like it’s a circus. His eyes twitching from wall to wall; he feels like the rodent he is. Trapped like a rat in a cell made of stale bread… forced to survive by eating the walls…
…NO!!! He snaps out of it. That was then. His time in Spoonian prison. This is now, his time at Denny’s.
“Can I get a quick Grand Slam?” Knuckles introjects to the waitress.
“Eggs over easy, hash browns, sausage, and white toast,” he says cheekily. His excitement at his Grand Slam distracted him from his original objective, causing great annoyance within the crowd.
“...aHEM. You were saying?!” Joie grumbles in annoyance.
“My apologies. The hash browns were calling,” Knuckles acquiesces. He begins to tell his story.
After arriving in Spoons, I was struck with wonder at the luscious natural soup springs. Chicken noodle, tomato, miso… It was all so new, and so awe-inspiring. I stood there for so long, jaw agape, that the Spoonian police deemed me a “suspicious echidna” and took me into their custody. I begged for judicial immunity, as I was technically not an echidna but a balloon given sentience, but it was not to be.
“Father your honor, may I explain / My brain has claimed its glory over me! / I’ve a good heart, albeit insane,”
But they condemned me to the infirmary! Axon, dendrite, et cetera.
“What are you FUCKING talking about?” sighed Syghie frustratedly.
-
Jain decideS to plan a fundraiser for further Spoons research. What better than a ball? Sounds like a ball of a good time if you ask me.
She gathers up the guest list. Although this is a charity event, that doesn’t mean she can’t stir shit up. It might result in more dollars for the Spoon research if she invites some wealthy donors. Who is the richest person Jain knows? Chrollo Lucilfer comes to mind, but isn’t he still in jail? Well, it’s worth a try. She decides to go ahead and dial him up.
She hears a heavy breath on the other line. It’s a little … creepy…
“Hey Chrollo, long time no see.”
He gives a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I’m used to the police ignoring my white collar crimes, but yet this new guy who has been working at malls for security has been chasing me down everytime I go to a mall. It’s been a bit hard for me. You know, I love malls.” Jain can hear the anxiety in Chrollo’s voice. It must be hard not to go to malls without somebody chasing you down.
“How did this all start?” Jain asks curiously.
“Well, one day I was in Flushing, York New, and I went to the Busy Mall, and this guy on a segway came up to me asking me why I was out walking as a free man. I tried as fast as I could to conjure my nen, but this guy was going so fast on his segway that I had a bit of a hard time getting away.” Jain nods at Chrollo’s response. He is so powerful and yet? ‘Well, let’s hope he still has money at least,’ Jain thinks.
“Umm well you see. I’m hosting a charity event to, you know, support Spoonian studies. Would you be interested in attending and perhaps bringing your checkbook?”
Chrollo laughs, and laughs and laughs again.
“Hahahahahahaha. Mwahahahaha. El - oh - elle. EL- EM - EF - AY - O. Party Rocker’s in the House Tonight!”
Chrollo’s shrieking is really pissing Jain off, “You don’t have to fucking laugh, Chrollo. I’m trying to help the Spoonians.” She’s angry.
Chrollo’s coughs to stop the laughter, “Ahem; sorry for uh, party rocking,” Chrollo barely manages to stifle his giggles after his apology for party rocking.
Natsume notices the anger bubbling to the surface of Jain’s non-flat surfaces and knows there’s trouble. He comes over to Jain and holds her hand to comfort her, but Jain signals for Natsume to go away. She must deal with this on her own. Natsume walks off all sad boy.
Chrollo clears his throat, “Well, Jain, I still have money if that’s what you're wondering, and I’ll come to your little shindig. My one request is don’t let anybody with segways into the event for the safety of myself and others.”
Although Jain is one of the most powerful beings in the YKTTSWM universe, this segway guy does sound a bit scary if Chrollo is to be believed. Jain can call up her security forces for this one, so she doesn’t have to protect the ball herself.
“Of course Chrollo, no worries.” Jain was writing Chrollo’s RSVP down when all of the sudden, HE SPEAKS.
“Are you still dating that little boy, Nyatsume?” Chrollo devilishly inquires. Perhaps the spirit of those dancing devils was possessing him. (A/N: I’ll bring the dance with devils guys back but the thing is they are all weird and creepy :( and so is Chrollo but he’s HOT. There’s a difference)
Jain was shocked to hear this come out of Chrollo’s mouth. I mean the thing with Chrollo before he went to jail was like a full 20 hours ago. She thought they would’ve moved on past this, but is he trying to bring things up by insulting Natsume?
“Umm things are complicated right now. It’s a situationship, and uhh Natsume’s not a little boy. He’s like a tall sexy ginger man who uhh means a lot to me. I can be better to him this time”
“But Jain, where were you on April 29th?”
“Oh god, do you really wanna know where I was on April 29th?” Jain channels the spirit of Hiddleswift, her voice lowering.
(A/N: In our cone world the months are as followed
Each year: 10 months, 304 days
The sexy hot girl summer season: 9 months of the year
Percanuary
April
Annabethuary
Grovanuary
Lukeanuary
Thalianuary
Clarissember
Rachuary
One month of hallmarky good christian vibes
Travisandconnerary
The 10th month will be revealed in due time.
This calendar is similar to the ones the romains used before grease beat their ass! Hence, why many of the months were renamed to Percy Jackson characters.
Also, you may be wondering about time considering that Chrollo going to jail happened less than 20 hours up to this point. Hours account for an unspecified amount of time in this universe.
(All will be revealed of time in an unspecified amount of hours.)
“It was yesterday, so yes.” Chrollo responds.
Back then, Jain was dancing around it - “it” being Natsume at the Jackson Wang’s party.
“I went to Jackson’s party.” It’s not a lie, nor does Jain owe him anything, but it feels like high infidelity anyways! ‘Think of the charity’ Jain tells herself.
“Wow! I heard about that party. It sounded DISGUSTING. In fact, I had to use my nen to ward off the urge to go celibate.” Chrollo says.
A sigh emits from Jain’s mouth as she painstakingly agrees: “Yeah… the celibacy sure hit us hard.”
Jain looks over at Natsume wondering when she’ll once again feel that desire for the p in v, but alas Jackson’s party was all too recent. She’ll have to create a sexy environment for the ball and make it all Anna Karenina and Vronsky coded. Perhaps some purple janeiro de seoul body butter will make everybody smell good and make them all smooth and creamy. That will work as an excellent party favor.
“Well, I think I could use a party considering I’ve been in jail and whatnot. I’ll also bring my checkbook as I am rich. I am money, so I should spend it.”
Chrollo’s response reminds Jain of somebody else… Jumin. Jain wonders if she should find a reddit snark page to see what’s been going on with JuminRose, Eren, and Jack…
That’s besides the point though as Chrollo is showing up and will donate the money. Jain just need to acquire some body butter.
-
Syghie horned hornily. TOot. French horn shit. Wow the sound is very … alluring.
“Wow, I am Raring to GO! Wonder which one of my men I can dial up real quick…”
Boop boop boop. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Line picked up! Who is it?
It’s… DONG!
Dong, there he stands, dinging and donging his ding noodles and also twisting and spinning the dough so it flies around him like a ribbon, a magical ribbon. Like an Olympic rhythmic gymnast, the noodles fly so effortlessly, around his elbows. He snaps the dough in front of Syghie’s eyes, like a little sneaky flirtatious move, as if to kiss the noodles delectably against Syghie’s parched lips, Syghie’s dry crackly crusty lips, now being wet wet wet with slippery saliva at this showmanship and straight up skill and the elusive, not-wanting-to-be-here aura emanating from Dong.
The judges stand and clap as he salutes them and leaves the floor. A manager brings him a towelette, not daring to raise their gaze to the champion’s eyes. The champion’s dark, chocolate brown orbs. He dabs the wet on his brow away *airhorns* and looks aloofly and fashionably towards the scoreboard as the judges furrow their eyebrows and scribble down notes with their yellow number two pencils. Behind their glinting glasses, their eyes are blurred with tears, but no, they mustn’t let the emotion flood through. They have work to do here, yet, tonight, judging. But they know what they have seen is beyond anything else they might ever hope to see tonight, or for the rest of their lives. Yes, this is the peak of skill. The jumbotron above alights with the scores - the highest difficulty ever. No deductions. 30 points, breaking the previous highest score possible of 20. Such beauty deserves better than the previous maximum score.
Syghie clasps their hands in joyous exaltation. That man. Yes, that man. It is simply amazing. Dong doesn’t realize his grace. He is jaded. He is broken. He needs someone to refresh him and pull him, stretch him like the noodles he stretches for a living.
Syghie saunters up to the noodle man. “Your watermelon is delicious.”
Dong procures watermelon, out of habit. Syghie smiles at this act of chivalry.
“You are coming with me, Dong. Break free of the noodles that bind you to this world of noodle rhythmic gymnastics.”
Dong nods his head, in a trance. “Yes, I must break free. I must be free of… this. I handle the noodle, the noodle doesn’t handle me!”
With a roar, Dong breaks the invisible noodle shackles that hang heavy around his wrists and ankles. Whoa! He’d been performing that well with such a handicap as these shackles? I wonder what his noodleship skills could be now.
Dong takes Syghie’s hand, and wraps their two hands together with a long piece of noodle dough. They walk off into the distance.
-
The party is bustling. Jain greets guests offering them goody bags of body butter and condoms in the hopes of raising the sex rates worldwide. The United Cone might just give her a grant for her impact in making the world sexy again.
Natsume makes it in, and Jain undoubtedly feels happy to see him. The man who has repeatedly done right by her over and over again. However, she shoos him to the side for she knows she must put on somewhat of a flirtation show for Chrollo.
Chrollo arrives in a money clad suit - literally. His suit is made from a collection of currencies - the Whales awoocoin, the Japanifornian yeller, the YorkNew peso, the Brazilian Gisellenote, the Forks franc - you name it. It is very new money-like for Chrollo to wear a suit made out of money. It does not go unnoticed by Jain.
‘Now, is not the time for an ick when I’m trying to manipulate him into spending money on charity,’ Jain thinks as she hands Chrollo the giftbag.
Chrollo looks inside and smirks. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Shall I escort you there?” Jain asks to which Chrollo agrees. Jain’s arm wraps around Chrollo, and she feels goosebumps. Could it be those kinds of goosebumps or THOSE kinds of goosebumps?
“I hope I have a chance to waltz with you tonight.” Chrollo states before retreating to the bathroom.
Jain locks eyes with Kite and gives a thumbs up her way, and she finds herself eager to talk to Natsume who sits pensively at the bar. She can’t forgo her hostly duties though and makes her way back towards the entryway.
Kite watches the noodle courtship ritual from across the ballroom. Things seam to be going well for Syghie and Jain! The fundraiser ball seems to be an effective method of garnering money for future Spoons explorations- Knuckles account of the soup was one thing, but established contact with Spoons is far off.
A lot has happened over the past three days, since that sleepover. Demonic summonings, dimension hopping, tennis rule violations, the death of the wealthiest family on the globe and sinking of one of the first truly sentient ships, the Reality Television Production Guild - YorkNew Federation of Camera Guys (RTPG-YFCG) strike, and now the beginnings of the reunification of Forks and Spoons. Something bothered Kite about all of this. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily connected, but this many things happening in under a week (A/N: a week is an unspecified number of hours) meant something bigger was brewing- something, perhaps, that all of these events individually would end up pushing over the brink.
The noodle man has now moved to a more sensual approach, and Kite politely shifts her gaze to another side of the ballroom, watching the crowds mingle and dance. Some people are gathered around a table taking shots of- wait, hang on…
The smell wafts over waftily. Sauteed onions and garlic and carrots and celery? Some potato? Beef stock? No, this couldn’t be…. a… soup? But where could they get soup in the State City of Joisey New, where this story is taking place currently, and not Spoons as incorrectly stated by one of the performers?
Kite sniffs her way over, feet floating off the ground, carried by the wonderful stew smell. The group are wearing Japanifornian Revolution outfits- long blue coats with cream buttoned down uniforms underneath. They are taking shots of soup intermittently- a tomato basil, a butternut squash, a Irish Onion.
“The situation in Spoons will not improve with further YorkNew scrutiny,” says a taller man. “We need to communicate with the Gazpachian Order for further protections for the Spoonians.”
“And for the recipes,” another adds. “It’s not unlikely that the sacred texts will be a target once all of Brazil finds out what the City State of Yorknew has been up to in the last few decades.”
“What is the current state of the Pan Era Declaration, Mage?”
“Well hidden with flavor text, sir. The group in Alres Sippies has been contributing to the hiding of the recipes by writing more of the cultural history of Spoons and the historical context of each recipe to further obscure them. If all work stopped now, they would be hidden for at least a month before the YorkNewian spies could locate them.”
“We don’t know that spies have entered The Bowl as of yet.”
The first speaker purses their lips at the mention of a spy. “Which would make them good at their job, Shiki. What of Liam’s comrades?”
A fourth speaker syghies. “We’ve been setting traps, but none have yet been activated. It’s possible that they haven’t come to look for him- tracking by their last known locations, they haven’t been moving in one direction in weeks.”
Slowly, Kite realizes that the steam trail of the sweet soup scent wasn’t magical solely due to the power of a good, hearty soup. When making a good soup, it needs to be finished with a good amount of fat. A healthy glug of olive oil, some animal fat, or… a pat of butter. And dedicated readers will remember where butter has truly shone in this story.
“Mage?” Kite asks, shockedly shocked. Last we saw Mage, the moon was covered with cum and Mage was coated in butter in his every crevice. “What are you doing here?”
Mage hehe hahas. “Where do you think you got the butter?” The other devils - Rem, Shiki, and the Orange One turn and hehe haha as well.
Kite frowns. “What butter?”
“The body butter being given out. Truly, no one understands butter being in a body like I do.” He winks, and butter sprays off of the clap of his eyelashes, splashing into the soup.
“But why are you talking about Spoons? I mean, aren’t you guys like from Hell?”
Rem syghies. “We need help from the people of Spoons to reform the grimoire. Since Ritsuka is currently dating a powerful goddess, we can’t use her for the grimoire since we would get smited. But in order to make a new one, we must turn to the primordial soup. As ancient as our magic is, the materials for transubstantiation won’t come together in Hell regardless of what we do. So we need to conduct the ritual in Spoons, but since the YorkNew government has such a tight grip, we allied with the Spoonian people to liberate Spoons in exchange for using their central broccoli cheddar geyser to create a new grimoire.”
“Huh. Well, since we received the message from Baekhyun, we’ve joined the cause for Spoonian liberation as well. Have you heard from him? Is he free?”
The orange one smiles. “Baekhyun is free.” He reminisces on their night of passion…
“Wait, and you guys were talking about Liam Payne earlier, right? I think Freckles ran into him earlier…”
“Yes, we were. Liam Payne is his stage name though, his real name is Liam Pain. Pain has been held captive in Spoons. But it’s been many months of him being held here with no interference from Yorknew or any of the assembled nations of the cone. It seems like no one wants him back, and yet… holding him hostage feels like we’ve been keeping ourselves bugged.” said Shiki.
“You think he’s been reporting to Yorknew?” Kite asks.
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility. Payne worked with an elite group of interdimensional spies, who only operated by following one direction. It’s hard to believe that none of them would come for him, if only because of the threat he poses to their security.”
Kite looks pensively across the dance floor, watching people get body buttered up. Mage sprints and dives headfirst into the body butter. Buttered bodies. Body butters. Butt bod. Hmmm.
—
Meanwhile on the dance floor, Justin Beaver performs his hit song, “Soupy Slick Back.” Everyone starts doing the slick back dance in a circle like a mosh pit but more organized. Woot woo. They are stirring the pot on the dance floor in unison.
With all of the power of their uniform dancing stirring imaginary soup pots, just like the club penguin iceberg, the dance floor rumbles and flips over. It reveals…. A boiling cauldron of cream of mushroom. Was it a cover up? For the Spoonians?
The wolf spiders approach over the horizon. Citizens begin screaming!!! Kite screams, “IT’S THE BODY BUTTER!! HIT THOSE SPIDERS INTO THE SOUP!”
Everyone takes off their la chanclas and begins whacking the spiders in as they come in by the droves. People throw their body butter containers into the soup also. The spiders enter, attracted by the butters. They hop in, meow weakly as they enter the boiling water, and sink without further noise.
“It’s an OMEN!” screams Jayfeather the blind warrior medicine cat, who is also there.
Chrollo runs out of the bathroom, his balls being bitten by two spiders! Did he really put the body butter where the sun don’t shine? Jain gets the ick and to think she was toying with the idea of a waltz with him tonight! Suddenly, a warm body ;) sneaks up behind Jain, sexily. The body smells like cats and pen ink. Could it be?
Everything goes black as Jain feels two greasy palms cover her eyes. He’s shielding her from the sight of Chrollo getting ate up from balls to head (a/n: take a guess as to which head teehee). Jain knows these hands! The grease of Natsume’s palm adds moisture to Jain’s under eyes in a quality higher than the body butter she gifted out. All of her dark circles vanish suddenly and a warm fuzzy feeling overtakes Jain.
This isn’t Nyatsume anymore. No, it’s Natsume.
When Natsume takes his hands off of her, she notices she is in a different realm - the faerie realm.
“Natsume,” Jain whispers. “You’ve got that dawg in you.”
All of the sudden, Natsume’s ear get pointier - oh no. This wasn’t just a little vaycay, rather Natsume is one of them.
“I am in fact a half fae or whatever Sarah J Maas calls it.” Natsume says. Jain is inconsolable for .02 black hole milliseconds
(A/N: Black hole milliseconds (BHM) is a timekeeping system in our universe. Time will tell what the conversion rate is between BHM and hours. Don’t worry, we have it under control.)
She then stops the world for .69 hours and then carries on out of the fae verse leaving Natsume to fend for himself by solving riddles or whatever they do in the fae realm. Surely, the spider situation has to be under control now.
-
As Jain transports back to the party, the doors to the party slam open. Who could possibly break in with no rsvps under maximum security?
“You’re Insecure
You’re Insecure
You’re Insecure, You’re Insecure, You’re Insecure oh ah”
Screams ring all throughout the ball as a catchy hook undoubtedly filled with subliminal messaging blasts through the speakers. Who is doing this shit?!?
“You’re in ze car
You’re in ze car
You’re in ze car, You’re in ze car, You’re in ze car oh ah”
Guests begin to pass out as the accent changes into a fake French one because France was cancelled! This has to be stopped at all costs.
“Freeze!” None other than Hairy Styles declares. Everyone hides under tables except the core four: Syghie, Joie, Kite, and Jain because they are goated fr.
“Or I’ll put a hole in the middle of your heart like a polo!” Nail Horan holds onto a spider venom laced Nerf water gun and points it at a wailing Chrollo.
Louis Tomliasons snaps his fingers and turns into a firearm, adding: “I told you I was a loaded gun!” Louis moves his barrel upwards shots at the roof and SHOOTS, transforming back into a hooman with no control.
The core four thinks about doing something to stop this, but they also realize every good story needs drama and suspicion. (Drama and suspicion has been promised, so it will be delivered in approximately .0420 BHMPH)
Liam Payne & Zain Malik waltz into the ball hand in hand, drawing audible gasps from everybody who is not massed out.
…When did this happen? Is Liam in collusion with our enemies again?
One thing is for sure. Zain breathes heavily into this mic: “I’ll also give you a sweet dream next night.”