Intersect


The next day, Iggy drags his clown kart into the garage after she grants him permission to. A few Shy Guys help haul his entire set up here and Iggy thanks them for their assistance with a mocking salute. Some of the timid Shy Guys giggle quietly while others ignore him—even with the masks they bear, Toadette can feel them rolling their eyes.

She's not surprised to see the clown face of his smiling car, but she is surprised to find his sea green wheels are also tiny, appearing seconds away from having the clown kart collapsing on top of them. Yet, they're somehow able to hold the kart's weight without any difficulty to the design.

It's undeniably Iggy Koopa, pushing machines beyond their breaking points to get the results he wants.

Wait, what is she thinking? Undeniably him? How would she know that?

To her shock, Iggy works quietly and efficiently. The only sound in the empty garage is the clinking of metal, the occasional crackle of a water bottle being sucked dry or a can being crushed, and the distant roars of engines sparking to life and the zipping wind of bikes on test runs whizzing by the garage.

It's strangely peaceful. Toadette hums some pop songs stuck in her head to pass the time and—unlike Toad's huffs of annoyance begging her to stop because she's always somehow off-key—Iggy doesn't seem to care much. She's caught him once or twice tapping his foot absentmindedly to the melody himself.

Sometimes, she spares his scattered work area a curious glance; various tools lay everywhere, a personalized tool box decorated with a collection of stickers she recognizes from the many sponsors of their races sits open on the floor, and a bigger collection of ginger ale is stashed inside the clown car sitting in the cushioned orange seat like a king.

'The King of Caffeine', she decides, is the perfect title for Iggy. He's finished about three cans already. Though soda pop is something Iggy really doesn't need in his diet; he's bad enough without all the sugar and caffeine supercharging his blood stream. She fears what will happen when the sugar finally catches up to him.

Anytime he sleepily yawns or his experienced movements lull, he downs a drink until he's a jittery mess. It makes her question how much sleep is normal for him and how much of his energy is fueled by caffeine and sugar.

When it's time to call it a day, Toadette yawns audibly and stretches her sore muscles as she packs away her tools by tossing them in her box. Iggy—despite appearing to be an absolute disaster on two legs—takes the time to meticulously return his personalized tools to their proper spots in his fancy tool kit.

Expensive, she enviously surmises as she critically eyes the shiny black tools with neon green designs. Her gut tells her they're most likely a loving gift; if the customized carving of his name and insignia on all his tools is any indication.

He isn't that big on flaunting his wealthy upbringing; he was probably gifted it by someone who is. Perhaps Bowser or maybe Ludwig? It makes her slightly pricey tool kit look like a bargain bin sale she found at the thrift store.

Maybe she should invest in prettier tools too? She prides herself on being a genius, building tiny trinkets here and there, but she hasn't reached the level of Iggy or his engineering prowess and mechanical capabilities. She never found a reason to invest in anything overly expensive when she isn't as committed to her talents as him.

Truthfully, she only calls herself a genius to hype herself up because sometimes she wonders how she'll ever be able to shine in a world surrounded by innovative inventors like Ignatius Koopa or Professor E. Gadd pushing past boundaries never thought possible. By the time she's caught up, there will be nothing left to discover.

Toadette frowns at her sad expression reflecting back to her on the handle of her wrench as she wallows in her pity party. Inferiority and jealousy are the buzzing words in her mind like a persistent fly asking to be squashed.

She shakes her head. No, this pessimistic thinking won't do. It doesn't suit her. She's better than this and she's not one to mope anyways. When they part ways for the day, Iggy feels the need to ruin the good mood between them by making a fleeting joke about her height then disappears with a laugh as she shouts at him.

They somehow fall into a routine, following a rhythm that suits both their tastes without overstepping boundaries. Though there are numerous occasions where Iggy likes to test how flexible the boundaries are before Toadette puts her foot down or—in most cases—tosses an empty water bottle at his big head.

True to his word, Iggy does help her when she needs it. Though, she chooses to use his help scarcely. She does want to take the most credit for her kart when she holds that beautiful gold trophy in her hands.

When Toadette attaches her choice of glider—a multicolored parafoil—the stupid mechanic on the back of the kart refuses to release it when she presses the button near the steering wheel. She wrestles with it for ten minutes calling it a variety of names like dumb and ugly.

Iggy, having watched the whole thing with levity in his eyes, eventually walks over and coaches her into the many possible problems she could be having. They run down the list, heeding no results.

Well, until the glider suddenly decides to stop being stubborn. It unexpectedly blooms from its compartment in a show of defiance, sending both of them stumbling back in surprise. Toadette shrieks, landing on her backside and Iggy joins her on the floor.

They simultaneously blink, staring wondrously at the crumpled up glider like any moment now it'll get up and start walking away. Of course, that never happens and they share a good hearted laugh before climbing to their feet.

Toadette returns to the garage bright and early this beautiful sunny day. She waves to her garage neighbors; Yoshi and a Shy Guy. Iggy isn't here yet which isn't unusual for him since he doesn't show up until around noon. Setting aside her water bottle and lunch box on the bench, she finds a radio perched on one of the shelves littered with various kart parts.

She lets out a breathy gasp, examining the foreign machine, and ponders where it came from. It's a cute and basic radio; sparkly and orange with a decent set of speakers on either side and plastered with stickers of colorful stars.

She eagerly turns it on, testing if it works. Energetic music fills the quiet garage and she spends a few minutes switching between stations until settling on the station broadcasting the hottest current hits. Unable to control herself, she wobbles and sways to the sickly sweet pop music.

She maps out the choreography she's memorized from the music videos she's watched dozens of times. Infected by the pounding music, her happy dancing turns into a party for one. She raises her hands above her head and jumps the highest she can go, singing along.

Someone clears their throat and she whips her head to the garage door to find Iggy smirking at her, arms crossed, head tilted curiously. He's earlier than usual.

"What are you doing?"

She freezes, slowly lowering her hands to her sides while the music continues to blast one of her favorite songs. She mourns the lost opportunity of singing her favorite part till her throat aches.

"Um," she scratches her cheek, feeling the heat of her skin against her finger as she turns a darker shade of rosy pink. "Just listening to music."

He snorts, face smug. "Is that how Toads dance? Always wondered how your disproportionate species dances since you lack legs and have freakishly huge feet."

"Hey! At least my eyeballs don't take up half my face," she grumbles, defensively crossing her arms.

He laughs hard at that retort, snorting in between fits of uncontrollable laughter. He never takes any insult personally, does he? At least he can handle what he dishes out.

They settle in for the day as music echoes around them. It takes an hour or two of quiet humming and gentle rocking until Toadette grows comfortable enough to start belting out the lyrics to the songs. She dances freely across the room to grab something or taps the beat of the song against her kart. Iggy watches her, snickering and rolling his eyes, but never once voices a complaint.

In fact, when he recognizes a song on the radio he actually knows, he shouts the lyrics at the top of his lungs with her until someone—she believes it's Waluigi because of the nasally tone of voice—tells them to shut up. They share a humored glance then laugh, ignoring whoever dared interrupt them and return to their shouting match/sing-along.

Toadette is on a self-declared break after working non stop for two hours. She sits on her bench, snacking on the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had made in case she got famished before her scheduled lunch with Princess Peach in a few hours. The radio is off to avoid the temptation of singing and ruining her burning throat even more.

Iggy, she notes with thriving curiosity, is sitting in his kart, one leg crossed over the other with his fancy laptop covered in various decals resting on his lap. She spots a few recognizable stickers of his siblings' companies and one of Gadd Laboratories. He must be a fan of the eccentric professor's work too.

Iggy mindlessly clicks away, at what, she's not sure, but with how unpredictable he is; it could literally be anything. Probably something sneaky or devious, preparing the products he'll need for his next elaborate invention to stop the Mario Brothers. He could also be planning for his next convoluted prank his siblings will have to endure.

Her curiosity gets the better of her. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at Chain Chomps," he answers back like she should have somehow known.

She blinks a couple of times, flabbergasted. Out of all the possibilities he could be doing on his laptop; she hadn't expected something so… innocent? She struggles to understand him and maybe it's better to not try at all at this point.

Whenever she believes she's figured something out about him; he immediately does the opposite like he's purposely meant to hurl her off course. She's left with more questions than answers. Questions she'll never get the answers to.

"Oh, okay," she responds simply, unable to conjure up something witty to say. He hums his affirmation, continuing to furiously scroll past what she assumes is pictures. They're both silent; she enjoys her lunch in peace until Iggy side-eyes her from his seat inside his kart.

"Wanna see?"

Truthfully, having been on the receiving end of a couple Chain Chomps that happen to be religious biters; Toadette doesn't find them very cute. Creatures with teeth larger than her entire body couldn't possibly be adorable and she'd rather avoid them.

She's heard maintaining proper dental care is a must for raising a happy Chain Chomp. Their sharp teeth require regular brushing and flossing. Any owner brave enough to own one could end up missing an appendage or two eventually. She's read horror stories online from previous Chain Chomp owners about their hospital visits.

Toadette takes the final bite of her sandwich. Chewing thoughtfully, she swallows then shrugs her shoulders. "Why not?"

Iggy hops out of his kart, careful not to jostle his laptop around too much, and approaches her. He sits beside her on the bench and she glances at the screen. Her negative opinions on Chain Chomps is immediately proved wrong; they can absolutely be adorable.

"It's so cute," she squeals. The tiny Chain Chomp in the photo is fast asleep, curled up in a fuzzy cream-colored blanket surrounded by mutilated chew toys, and a pretty pink bow with polka-dots is tied onto its head. A bow, she notices with squinting eyes, that looks vaguely familiar.

"Her name is Priscilla," Iggy says with a proud smile on his face."Wendy likes to dress her up in ribbons."

Toadette realizes this cute little thing is one of his notoriously dangerous pets. She recalls the many stories of Mario battling against Iggy and his infamously vicious Chain Chomps.

Mario's come back from fighting Iggy numerous times missing chunks of his overalls with large bite marks covering his arms. Princess Peach always feels obligated to play the part of a worried mother to him when he comes back in such a shredded state. She mends his clothes and his punctured skin, tutting as Mario reassures her he's completely fine.

When Toadette cheekily questioned the proper princess' ulterior motives, the princess disregarded her veiled insinuation. Sewing, the princess claimed with slightly red cheeks, is one of her favorite pastimes. She wouldn't waste the opportunity to pass up a chance to show off her hobbies.

Toadette still isn't convinced that's the only reason for fretting over Mario. She isn't buying what the princess was trying to pawn off to her. Princess Peach isn't fooling anyone.

"How many Chain Chomps do you own?" Toadette inquires as Iggy skips to the next photo of a giant beast of a Chain Chomp with a colorful bow tie below its mouth.

She almost misses the fact that Lemmy is balancing on top of the huge Chain Chomp with a similar bow tie of his own tied neatly around his neck while juggling three colorful balls, eyes crossed in a silly manner.

"I own three; Priscilla, Jazz, and Crispin. I also have a Piranha Plant; his name is McIntosh." The smile on Iggy's face seeps into his inflection. The dry or teasing tone of his voice she's accustomed to is almost nonexistent.

"That's a lot of pets." A lot of dangerous pets.

Iggy shrugs. "They're easier to deal with than more self-aware species like ourselves."

Toadette casts him a look of disbelief because every single one of those creatures could swallow her whole if it was bored of her. How is constantly avoiding getting attacked and dodging teeth easier to deal with than having a decent interaction with a person?

The Chain Chomp in this photo with Lemmy is Crispin; he's a gigantic monstrosity. Though Iggy claims Crispin is terrified of Priscilla. The big Chain Chomp usually hides behind Iggy like it'll help conceal his large mass from his yappy playmate.

She giggles as Iggy recounts a moment in particular where Priscilla had chased Crispin around the park as he yelped and whined for help. Iggy admits, at the time, he had been laughing too hard to save Crispin from Priscilla's clutches. All the smaller Chain Chomp wanted to do was pounce on Crispin and give him licks anyways.

Toadette learns Jazz is the Chain Chomp obedient enough to take into battle. He's the pup that Mario ends up on the receiving end of bites the most.

He's a purebred Chain Chomp, bred specifically to follow commands and maintain a calm temperament when the world around him isn't. He doesn't look much different between the other two Chain Chomps—besides being a more average size—but his regal deposition bleeds through every photo. Jazz clearly knows his worth.

They spend the next half an hour shifting through Iggy's broad collection of Chain Chomp photos. He talks fondly of them, in a tone the gentlest she's ever heard leave his mouth with a smile resting on his face. It's not mocking, sardonic, or cruel; but soft and sincere as she watches him continue to admire his pets.

He clearly loves them. Why is she surprised by this? Even her enemies are capable of experiencing love and dealing out affection.

Some of the photos have Iggy in them with his many pets, others with his various siblings. Toadette can tell when Iggy's sniped a picture unbeknownst to his siblings because Roy cuddling a stuffed rabbit sleeping like an infant next to a Chain Chomp (she thinks this one is Jazz in specific) is not something his older brother would want spread around.

The mischievous thought of using it as blackmail crosses Toadette's mind, but she shoves it away; being around Iggy is rubbing off on her. She doesn't doubt he keeps it around to brandish like a glinting sword when he needs something from Roy.

One photo in particular sits with her. It's of Priscilla as a puppy, body small and round with eyes too big for her current proportions. She's tiny enough for a younger Iggy to hold in his hands without any problems, his rainbow hair preserving the rays of the sunny day the photo was taken. He's smiling brightly towards whoever took the photo, eyes squeezed close and exposing a missing tooth. He looks happy. Genuinely happy.

Dare she say, his younger and more vibrant appearance was cute? Why'd he change his hairstyle to something more vegetable-like anyways? It's here she can see the resemblance between Lemmy and Iggy the most.

Toadette briefly wonders what happened to the Koopa boy in the photo. She sneakily peeks at Iggy, intensely studying his hunched form and amiable expression. He's twitching from the caffeine he inhaled over ten minutes ago, drumming his fingers against his laptop to a beat only he can hear, and bags sag so heavily under his eyes; she can see them past his thick frames.

Which doesn't add up since he no longer has to stay up till four to work on his kart if he's sharing the garage with her. Yet, he still appears exhausted. Thinking back, she's unable to recall a time when he ever appeared well-rested.

Why? Is it because he feels this unquenchable need to finish projects or because he becomes so absorbed in his work he can't pull away for too long? Is he an insomniac?

Part of her wants to ask, but she knows him enough to expect succinct or playful responses. One thing she's learned about him is that he hates when others pry. She's witnessed him veer off tangents when their fleeting conversations grow too personal for him. Or maybe, he doesn't care and finds opening up a waste of energy.

Eventually, Iggy swaps over to photos of his Piranha Plant: McIntosh. While browsing through his photos; she isn't as persuaded by the cuteness of the Piranha Plant as she was with the Chain Chomps. When she imagines sticking googly eyes on the plant then she starts to see the charm.

Casually, she brings this idea up to Iggy. He bursts into a fit of chortles, snorting and wheezing. She feels a spark of satisfaction at having caught him so off guard.

When their thirty minute break turns into an hour of scrolling, Toadette is the first one to hop off the bench. If they keep sitting around, they'll waste an entire day. Begrudgingly, she drags her unmotivated feet to her kart and returns to work.

Iggy, though, shrugs. Instead of being productive, the Koopaling jumps back into the comfy seat of his kart and continues to fiddle around on his laptop.

Iggy's clicking eventually stops and she thinks perhaps he's finally going to continue where he left. Not a sound comes from his side of the garage, though. It's too quiet.

Toadette turns around to find him fast asleep, laptop still on his lap. His mouth hangs wide open, all his menacing teeth exposed, but this is the most relaxed she's witnessed him. She smiles fondly, remembering her many instances of sugar crashes. It can only keep someone going for so long.

Her gaze travels down to the poor laptop. It's one tiny movement away from falling out of his kart and smashing to pieces onto the concrete floor.

Setting down her tools, she tiptoes over with her step stool since his Clown Car is tall and she is not. She places it down beside the kart without making a sound. Cautiously, she steps up it, pausing whenever the ladder creaks under her weight.

Gently and as quickly as she can, she pries the laptop out of his hands. He stirs once, nostrils flaring, but remains safely asleep. With a silent sigh of relief, she climbs down and sets the laptop on the bench before returning to her kart.


I'm just not feeling my work lately. Gotta push past it somehow.