The Mango Mooncake Incident (Disneyverse Snippet)
Summary:
Mozenrath is minding his own business in the Outside World until he overhears Bradford Buzzard threatening to erase magic. Mozenrath responds in the pettiest, most Mozenrath way possible: weaponized mango mooncakes.
Warnings:
Modern AU, petty sorcery, food‑based revenge, mild crack vibes, Mozenrath being Mozenrath.
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Hot Topic smelled like incense, vinyl, and teenage rebellion. Mozenrath fit right in.
He stood in the middle of the store, black coat sweeping behind him like a dramatic cape, judging a wall of band tees with the same intensity he used to judge incompetent sorcerers.
He wasn’t doing anything suspicious.
He wasn’t plotting anything.
He wasn’t even hexing anyone.
He was just… shopping.
And drinking a Starbucks black coffee so bitter it could strip paint.
He lifted the cup, took a sip, and muttered under his breath:
“This tastes like despair. Perfect.”
That’s when he heard it.
Not clearly — just background noise drifting from the mall corridor. Bradford Buzzard’s monotone corporate drone and Scrooge McDuck’s booming Scottish thunder. They were arguing about something, voices rising and falling like two angry geese.
Mozenrath tuned it out.
Until he heard it.
Until the words cut through the noise like a blade.
“No magic.”
Then:
“Erase magic entirely.”
Mozenrath froze mid‑sip.
The coffee hovered near his mouth.
His eye twitched.
His soul left his body, circled the mall, came back wearing brass knuckles.
Erase magic?
Erase his magic?
Erase his mother’s magic?
Absolutely not.
He set the coffee down on a shelf of Nightmare Before Christmas mugs and whispered:
“Oh, you picked the wrong sorcerer today.”
He could confront them.
He could blast them.
He could turn Bradford into a duck‑shaped mamluk and call it a day.
But that would draw attention.
And Mozenrath was trying — trying — to be subtle in the modern world.
So he thought:
“What would Mother do?”
Then:
“What would Mother bake?”
Then:
“Mooncakes.”
His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.
He went home.
Pulled out Morgiana’s mango mooncake recipe — the one she used during festivals, the one he pretended he didn’t remember by heart.
He baked.
Perfectly.
Then he added the potion.
Not a romantic love potion.
Not mind control.
Just a taste‑obsession enchantment — a spell that made the eater fall hopelessly, embarrassingly addicted to the flavor.
A potion that said:
“You don’t love me.
You love the mooncake.
And you will do anything to get more.”
He boxed them neatly in a sleek black gift box.
He wrote a note:
“Complimentary samples from a local bakery.
— Management”
He teleported the box directly onto the conference table where Bradford and Scrooge were still arguing.
Then he went back to Hot Topic.
And picked up his coffee.
Like nothing happened.
Bradford Buzzard took a bite.
Scrooge McDuck took a bite.
They froze.
They stared at the box like it contained the secrets of the universe.
Bradford whispered:
“I…need another.”
Scrooge muttered:
“Aye, I’d trade me Number One Dime for more o’ these.”
They ate the entire box.
They fought over crumbs.
They called the “bakery” demanding more.
There was no bakery.
There was only Mozenrath.
Watching from across the mall, sipping his coffee, smirking like a smug goth gremlin.
“Erase magic? Try erasing your cravings first.”
