#i learned that the red sun actually appears much bigger too late

[ymeisli]

happy gay month i drew codywan as the lovers tarot card + i got attached to the strawberry mana doodle i have a version where hes just in the corner

[whaleofatjme1920]

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. ��Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

[quentinbecks]

stillness in woe

Summary: Charlie left Hope County years ago hoping never to come back. But when she learns of her parents involvement with the local doomsday cult, she finds herself heading back to a life she thought she left behind. (Begins two years before the reaping/events of the game)

Pairing: Eventual John Seed x Non Dep OFC

Word Count: 1.9 k

Warnings: mentions of death and vomiting

A/N: I was a little nervous that introducing Charlie’s descent into the cult in the second chapter would be too soon, so I made a little filler chapter. Not the best, but the real meat of the story begins in the next chapter.

Chapter 2: Family Reunion

She hears footsteps coming up behind her. She pauses, thinking it’s only a figment of her overtired imagination. The noises don’t stop. Instead, they only increase in proximity. She’s barely turned around when she notices the red and white camo that signals Jacob’s hunters. The sight alone sends her into a panicked frenzy. Both the hunter and its prey raise their weapons at the same time. Luckily for Charlie she shoots first. Stomping over to the body she rips the red ski mask of their face. This time it’s not the usual boyish face that greets her; it’s her own.

“Charlie!”

The young woman awakens with a start. For a second she’s confused about her whereabouts, not used to sunlight first thing in the morning. After realizing that she’s in Mary May’s apartment she quickly relaxes, but that doesn’t last very long. Her nightmare combined with her current hangover causes bile to rise up in her throat. Charlie bolts upright and runs towards the bathroom, Mary May following right behind her.

She can only make it as far as the sink before her body retches into it. She feels Mary May rubbing circles on her back as she trembles, clutching the porcelain.

“You okay?”

“No” Charlie sniffs, wiping away the tears pooling down her face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Charlie shakes her head no. She doesn’t need her friend knowing about what she was doing up in the Whitetails. She knows Mary May said things were bad in the valley, but she doubts John Seed is as much of a monster as his brother is. At least not yet. Instead of worrying her, Charlie chooses to tell a white lie.

“It’s nothing. I’m just worried about going to Joseph’s service. Can’t shake the feeling I’ll be held hostage at his compound.” It’s not completely untrue. Charlie is worried about losing herself to the Seeds. She’s heard and seen too much to not have that weigh heavy on her mind.

“Hey” Mary May says, forcing her friend to look at her. “I’m not gonna let him take you. Not when we just got you back.”

Good luck with that she thinks to herself

“My hero” Charlie says with a smile, choosing to forgo voicing her doubts. “I should shower and at least make an attempt to look decent. I wouldn’t want to show up to a Sunday service looking like a sewer rat.”

“Clearly you haven’t seen many peggies.”

In the shower she tries to wash away all of her fears, but the image of Mary May’s scar keeps flashing through her mind. How many other people in the county have been scarred by the youngest Seed? His handiwork looks painful and she doubts anyone would choose to have it done willingly. She wonders what sin will be chosen for her when the time comes. With her luck her whole body would adorned with all seven.

Charlie leaves the apartment to find Mary May helping Casey Fixman open up the bar. She gives a twirl as she hits the ground floor. “You think daddy Seed will like me in this dress?”

Mary May crinkles her nose in slight disgust. She had been gracious in Miami her friend a dress her, recently deceased, brother Drew had bought her for her graduation. On Charlie’s newly slimmed down body the white dress hangs a bit loose, the straps barely clinging to her shoulders.

“I’m sure Joseph will like a lot of things about you if you call him daddy.”

The blonde studies her friend’s appearance closely. The two of them know the importance of appearance to the cult. Due to the release of the documentary ousting the behavior of Eden’s Gate, the group has become more serious in trying to root out those that come with ill intent. And given by the knife holster strapped to Charlie’s thigh, the woman isn’t going in with good will.

“Come here” Mary May pulls on her pony tail once she’s close enough, letting her waves cascade over her shoulders. “There, see, now you look docile and sweet. Just the way the cult likes.”

Charlie wants to remind her friend no one has called her docile or sweet, not even when she was a child, but she can see something is bothering the younger woman. “You do know Nolan will there, right?” Mary May inquires before she can even ask what was wrong.

“No. No I didn’t fucking know that. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s involved with something illegal, but I am.”

“Your ex husband is basically a glorified drug dealer. He’s helping turn the people in the Henbane into angels” Casey calls out from the kitchen.

“Angels? You know? No. I don’t want to know what that means.”

“Hey” Mary May calls out, bringing her hands to rest on Charlie’s shoulders. “Don’t think about him. Focus on what really matters. Like getting your family out of a cult.”

Charlie nods. She knows Mary May is right, but she can’t help how she feels. It’s been five years since they divorced and she left Hope County, but the wound still feels so fresh.

After promising to check in after the service, she decides to head out to the church. The warm, late summer sun and some classic rock helps Charlie relax on the ride over. Makes her realize there are bigger problems in the world than cheating exes.

The woman is shocked to see the throngs of cultists loitering around and inside the compound, making it almost impossible to find a spot to park her car.

After ditching her car at the end of the drive and doing a few sets of breathing exercises, Charlie makes her way inside. Before she can make her way past the gate she’s stopped by burly, bearded middle aged man.

“Sorry, ma’am I’m afraid I can’t let you past without searching you for any weapons.”

Choices quickly flood Charlie’s mind. She can run past this guard, try to hide amongst the crowd; the crowd wearing mostly uniformed clothing. Or, she can try her hand at improvisation; pretend she really is innocent and sweet. She chooses the latter option.

“I’m sorry” she says, lifting her dress a little to show the knife strapped to her thigh. “You can never be too safe as a woman.”

Charlie pulls the weapon out of its scabbard, holding it out to the man. “If you do me a small favor you can keep this.”

The cultist eyes her warily; unsure of whether she’s worthy of his trust or not. But, to her surprise, her charms worked on him. “What do you want?”

“Well,” Charlie bites her lip before getting as close as she can “I was just wondering if you could introduce me to John Seed. My mom works for him and I just wanted to meet the man she speaks so highly of.”

“I don’t know…” he trails off, looking back at the Seeds and the flock congregating around them.

“Please?” Charlie looks up at the man through her lashes. The man has a rancid odor to him and she wishes she had chosen to duck and run into the compound instead of flirting. “You don’t know how much it would mean to me.”

“Fine. But don’t try anything once you’re inside.”

Pathetic

Charlie flashes him a smile. “Thank you so much.”

The man leads her up the gravel path and through the crowds up to the front of the church. There stood three men and one young woman that everyone seems to gravitate towards.

The Seeds

Charlie’s blood runs cold at the realization that she’s finally in their presence. It dawns on her too late that they may know she was the one responsible for the death of the young chosen. Fortunately she doesn’t have time to dwell too long on that thought as the man pulls her gently towards John Seed.

“Brother John?”

The young man looks up and she’s struck by the fact that he’s actually handsome. He’s well dressed and equally well groomed with a lordly posture. She recognizes immediately that she can’t manipulate him with her feminine wiles, he’s clearly too worldly for that. The older man pushes past two young women who were waiting in line to speak to the herald.

“This lost soul has been looking for you.” Charlie tries not to roll her eyes at the descriptor, but she knows she can act the part if it brings her closer to her parents.

“Is that so?”

“Yes” Charlie answers for the cultist, a sudden surge of bravery overtaking her as she steps around him. “I haven’t heard from my family in years. I heard they were here and I wanted to see if they were okay. A wellness check, if you will.”

“That’s not what you…” John cuts the man off before he can continue on.

“Did you not recognize her?” he asks as his eyes light up with recognition. Charlie freezes.

How? He can’t possibly know.

“She’s clearly our accountant’s daughter” he says lightly spinning her around.

The other man studies her face for a moment. “Huh. You really do look exactly like Christine.”

“You know, there’s really nothing to worry about. Your family is doing well here, but, if you want to do your little ‘wellness check’, you best follow me, sweetheart” John suggests over her shoulder.

Charlie fights the urge to make a snarky retort, choosing to cast a smile over her shoulder instead. “Of course. After you.”

They head inside and Charlie is flanked on all sides by peggies. Two to her side, one behind her, and John in front of her. If she’s being honest she doesn’t understand why they need to guard a tiny, unarmed woman. Besides, who goes to reunite with their family just to attack them?

All of that goes out the window when she sees her mother. She barely registers John calling out to her mother before she’s shoving past him.

“Mama?”

Christine steps forward, her hands cupping her daughter’s cheeks. “Charlene? Baby, what are you doing here?”

Charlie blinks back the tears she can feel tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “You haven’t returned any of my calls in almost three years. I was scared” she whispers, hoping none of the cultists can hear.

Unfortunately for her the youngest Seed does hear. “I told you there was nothing to worry about” he says, clasping both Berger women’s shoulders. “Your family is doing well here, even better, they’re thriving.”

Her mother nods and smiles at John. Charlie can tell her happiness is real and it pains her to see it. If it weren’t for the armed militia around the compound she would punch the smug look off of his face.

“Sweetheart, now that you’re back in Hope County; now that you’re home, why don’t you move back in with your dad and I?”

It sounds like a terrible idea. The last thing she wants is to be stuck in a house with two people who only want to talk about Eden’s Gate. She goes to protest when she realizes she hasn’t even seen her father yet.

“Oh, no I really couldn’t... Wait, where is daddy?”

Before her mother can explain a deep voice from behind her interrupts, stopping everyone in their tracks “Who’s this?”

Charlie turns around to see who intruded on their conversation. She recognizes Joseph almost immediately, his man bun and glasses giving him

Shit

[ff15trashgoldenslumbers]

If requests are open right now, could we get the Chocobros dealing with S/O's ex. Like they won't leave S/O alone no matter how many times they've told the ex that they have a lover now and they don't want to get back together. If requests are not open just ignore this entirely. Thank you and have a wonderful day.❤❤❤

Ohhhh the drama in me loves this! but the anger in me makes me wanna punch ex’s like this! All in all good fuel! Kinda slight NSFW with Gladio here, hope that’s okay…

~~~~~

Noctis

You shifted your head slightly, trying to hide your face. Granted being a Princess was still new to you in hundreds of ways but that didn’t make what was happening any stranger.

When you and Noctis became public in your last year of being in school you immediately were thrown into a completely different life than the one you grew up in. You had to quit your job, move twice, and learned that being online you had to become very vague about a lot of stuff.

Before Noctis, you dated this guy that was kinda of…well full of himself. He was always posting selfies and talked himself up as if he himself were a god. After requesting to be in at least one selfie with him on his page after dating for a while and then him getting pissed at you when you posted a picture of the two of you with some friends and him thinking it would make him lose his fanbase you realized that you just wasted a good two months of your life.

So off the idiot in foil armor went and in strolled your Prince on a White Chocobo. You couldn’t exactly post selfies with him, but Noctis always made certain that you were by his side in any tabloid, magazine, fashion shoot, anytime there was a couple opportunity he was certain to take it and show you off!

But it still didn’t excuse the fact that your annoying two-month ex was everywhere! All the damn time! Some gossip column was all over it when you gave the vague question about kissing a few frogs to get your prince and tried digging up your nonexistent love life before Noctis and found that mistake, and this asshole figured he’d ride on your coattails to boost himself.

Nearly every magazine for a year was all about your previous relationship with the guy: Prince Noctis’s New Girlfriend EX Spills All. There were so many false columns and info this guy was giving about you that Prompto last year gave you a red thread board of him trying to solve who this guy was actually talking about and the only idiot he came up with was aliens. 

You still laugh at it whenever you have a bad day.

So to see this asshole now at this charity event for animals was just so annoying! He must have volunteered at the shelter when it broke news a few weeks ago that the royal family was going to help raise money. Gladiolus noticed him before you, and the big guy was itching to throw him out since the last time the guy tried to break into a ball. 

“You want me to toss him?”

“Nah, just keep an eye on him.” You replied to the big guy, only to feel Noctis take your hand.

“You sure?”

You could only nod, the guy just talked a lot, and as long as Noctis thought you were cool, you didn’t give a damn what any tabloid said about you.

So while Noctis was talking with the charity people and getting everything ready for you all to leave, you had stepped away to take a few selfies with the volunteers of the event with some of the dogs, cats, and Chocobo’s they had brought out to do photoshoot earlier.

“Y/N.”

You turned, only to be greeted by your ex standing there, you could be civil for Noctis’s sake, “Hello.”

He chuckled softly, “That’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

You blinked, “Do I know you?”

“Oh, you don’t remember me?” 

You smiled, “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Princess Y/N, Are you ready?”  Prompto called, he was at your side with the selfies so you weren’t left alone. The blonde leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You okay?”

“Yes, thank you Prompto.” You cooed, taking his arm as he moved you over to Noctis. You gasped as you felt something snag the sleeve of your dress, expecting it to be one of the Chocobo’s, but quickly found yourself in a whirlwind.

You recalled a cracking sound, quickly followed by being pushed behind Gladiolus, only to find your ex on the ground, Ignis, and Prompto holding him down. You were only able to piece it together a few moments after it happened and both yourself and Noctis were quickly escorted to the car by Gladiolus.

Apparently, everyone was so focused on Prompto decking the guy the hadn’t noticed Noctis was keeping an eye on the guy so when your ex  grabbed you, Noctis had tossed a pen over towards your feet warping after it. Gladiolus jumped before the two of you, while Ignis and Prompto subdued the guy.

You honestly had to admit that you loved that Noctis was so protective of you and wanted to always do best by you, but the fact that your ex was still in the news was a little icing on the cake, but now instead of being labeled as the “Ex of the new Princess” he had a lovely new nickname of “Stalker.” or even better year, “Inmate.” 

~~~~~

Prompto

When you both started dating Prompto had already known that he was going to take everything you had to offer. He just wished that your Ex wasn’t a part of it, he wouldn’t give you up for anything in the world, but your Ex he’d give that jerk up for a plate of stinky tofu.

From what you had told him, you had broken up with your Ex after quite a bit of time of him comparing you to other women. Time and again, why weren’t you thinner, why weren’t your boobs bigger, why don’t you were makeup more often, why don’t you dress better. 

Prompto honestly didn’t see what the guys deal was, to him you were those most perfect of perfect! No one could compare to you, and it seems that your Ex realized it way too late. He had overheard from your friend’s hundreds of times that you seemed to glow so much more in a relationship with Prompto.

It was only when he saw it first hand that he realized just what a scumbag this asshole was. 

It was date night, you had both decided to go hang out at the little carnival in the park the two of you would often jog through. You had left him holding your purse and a stuff Chocobo he had won you at a shooting game to head to the bathroom. He was waiting on a bench just outside the restrooms, messing around on his phone, waiting for you to come out.

When you appeared he stood to go get you, when he noticed a guy quickly approach you. The look across your face was one that he wasn’t familiar seeing on you but he immediately knew that it was of distress, so he quickly moved over to you.

“…come on Y/N, let’s just go somewhere and talk.”

“I’m here with my boyfriend.”

“I know that I’ll…”

Prompto had only heard a part of it, but that was more than enough, “There you are, figured you fell in.” He laughed, his arm going around your shoulders, as he pressed a kiss to your temple, turning those violet eyes to your ex. “Is this a friend of yours?”

The sneer on your ex’s face didn’t go unnoticed, the guy wouldn’t even look at Prompto, “Y/N, come on we can go somewhere private and…”

“Sorry buddy, date night,” Prompto called, as he handed you the stuff Chocobo, before turning you around. “You understand right.”

He didn’t even wait for a reply before whisking you away. Only when he made certain that you both weren’t being followed by the jerk he turned to you making sure that you were all right, but instead found you holding tightly to the plush. 

Moving the both of you besides a candy apple stand, he turned to face you, “Y/N, are you okay, we can go home if you want.”

You shook your head, before turning to Prompto with a large smile, “You were so cool, Prompto.” 

He honestly didn’t know if the apples or his face was redder.

~~~~~

Gladiolus

At least twice a month, you would get these annoying text messages. It was never during the day typically anytime from 9 at night to 6 in the morning. Most of the time it wasn’t too big a deal, they would start, and either you or Gladiolus was mute the phone or turn it off should neither of you have any duties for the evening.

The issue was they there were coming from an ex, an annoying ex! Despite the fact that you had been the one to break up with the asshole after finding him in bed with not one but two other people. Granted your break up was you grabbing the guy and tossing him out, you let the other two get dressed as they both seemed just as equally confused to see you. You then did a little therapy by selling all the clothes and items you had bought him and smashing the game station you had brought him that he left at your place with your battle axe.

Noctis claimed that he still had nightmares about it.

He tried stating you were a crazy bitch, and that you destroyed his stuff, but all receipts showed that you purchased them and they were in your home and were yours. You gave him back anything he left at your place in boxes he had bought, but seeing that he was jobless and mooching off of you that was enough to fill one box. But if you bought it with your hard-earned money, and it sat in your house, and you had no need for it, it was getting sold, tossed, or smashed. 

So with 3 years gone, and a new love of your life that you’ve been sharing a bed and new home with for the last 2.5 years you had hoped all of this would be over. But nope like clockwork, you’d got these texts, even after changing your phone number 3 times and endless blocked numbers.

They started off angry, calling you every name under the sun, then to saying you should both talk it out, then the crying, then the pictures of him crying, or cuddling up to his new flavor of the month. Followed by texts of him reinstating time and time again that he was over you come the morning after. You never responded and after a bit, it became a running joke between yourself and Gladiolus.

The guy was too afraid of the both of you to ever try anything physical considering you both could destroy him with one hand alone, so he tried mental warfare which wasn’t his strong suit.

So when you went to open this month’s messages to stop getting the notifications from your phone you couldn’t stop the shriek of disgust.

“What he do this time?” Gladiolus asked sitting on the couch beside you.

You turned the phone, showing Glaidolus a dick picture.

“Really? Just send him one back.” Gladiolus chuckled, only to notice that you were suddenly scrolling through your phone. “What are you doing?”

“I thought about yours but that’s for my eyes only.” You responded, before finding whatever it was you were looking before hitting send.

It was honestly nice to have your phone silent for the last few months.

~~~~~

Ignis

You receiving undying support from Ignis, it was one of the things that you adored so much about the man. There were a few things that he didn’t support you on, but that typically was for your own good, like when you wanted nine espresso shots in your ebony.

A  wonderful welcome compared to your ex who thought a woman’s place was in the homestead and as he so delicately put it: Popping out babies, and only standing there to look pretty, to be seen and never heard. Not to mention he had often referred to you as his own personal Oracle, while he was the god you were to serve.

You weren’t even certain if you could call him an ex, considering that it was a pre-betrothal situation by your parents from years ago as a teenager and that after the third meeting with this asshole and a nice glass of wine tossed in his face you were determined to do all you could prove this man wrong. Pettiness was always a good motivator.

The only problem being, he was just elite enough to have a way into most of the royal invites, and being Ignis’s forever plus one and The Citadel’s head Historian you would often get put in lovely situations where you needed to be civil to this overgrown child again and again.

You couldn’t even count how many times he would try to act as if you were both an item, and would often try to joke around with Ignis about how the other must-have you under his boot and that he would take you off of Ignis’s hands should he get sick of you, knowing how much of a handful you were with these crazy ideas of yours.

Thing being, Ignis would have none of it! 

If there was anyone who hated your ex more than you it was Ignis, and Ignis could be so much more petty than you.

So tonight when you found yourself, being trailed around the party by him, you attempted to put on a pleasant face and excuse yourself, but this asshole somehow found a way to keep finding you around the party. Attempting to talk his way back into your life and constantly bring up to anyone who would listen to him that you both were once betrothed.

As you were contemplating on either giving him a black eye or bruise rib, you were surprised to instead find Ignis had shoved his way between the two of you, a protective arm around your waist pulling you close. 

“Kind Sir, I would say it was a pleasure to see you again, but we mustn’t tell lies. I’ve noticed something this evening…”

“What…”

“Do not interrupt me, as it make you appear, even more, the fool. I would appreciate it that you refine from speaking with or about Y/N for the rest of your meaningless existence, should you not, I will see it that not only yourself but also you family are stripped of any such titles that allow you to grease your way into any social standing, do I make myself clear?” Ignis inquired, he had mastered the look of a pleasant face, to everyone else in the room it must have looked like Ignis was simply have a pleasant conversation with the other man.

“I…”

“It is a yes or no question,” Ignis replied, that tight smile appearing even more so, those green eyes appearing to glow.

A slight nod of the head from the other man was the answer.

“Wonderful!” Ignis perked up an actual genuine smile appearing on his face. “Do have a pleasant evening.”

You allowed Ignis to whisk you away to the other side of the room, “Can…can you do that?” You had already known the answer but you just wanted to confirm.

“Of course, My Dear. Now I have been dying to dance with you all evening, shall we?”

Gods! You loved that man!

[xiaoderys]

❝ Saturated Sunrise ❞ (l.dh, n.jm) I

DISCONTINUED

pairing: haechan x reader, jaemin x reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst, possible smut soulmate!au, college!au, social media!au mixed WITH narrative

warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive with possible smut in future chapters

word count: 2.5K

parts: prologue , character-profile, I

synopsis: you gradually lose your ability to see colors as you fall out of love with donghyuck

you were red and you liked me because I was blue. but you touched me and suddenly was a lilac sky. then you decided purple just wasn't for you.

You’ve always loved the rain, unlike your boyfriend who would squirm whenever a single drop touches his golden skin, but then again, who could blame him? he was like the sun; a ball of roaring fire that could never learn to love its polar opposite. But you on the other hand, could never hate it even if you tried, there was just something about it, maybe it’s the tranquility of it, the smell, the aesthetic or the fact that it brings you back to the very night you met Hyuck.

It’s quite funny really, you’d think these only happened in movies and tv shows yet there you were, soaking wet and walking side by side with a boy you barely knew under an umbrella that barely covered you both.

You sighed deeply while looking through the glass windows of the convenience store and up at the dark sky, the rain was pouring and you figured it won’t be stopping any time soon.

You didn’t have your umbrella with you but it was already past 10pm so after a few minutes of internally arguing with yourself, you got out of your seat, walked out and pulled your bag above your head to somehow shield yourself from the rain.

new instagram post from Donghyuck, 1 new text from mom, 6 new notifications from bible study

open? Yes / No

As you took your first few steps outside, you heard the bell ring from behind you, signaling that there was someone going in/out of the store.

You didn’t mind it at first but you heard someone yell “Hey, wait up!” no one else was around so you assumed the person was calling out for you and stopped in your tracks.

You turned around to look and just as you do, a car sped right in front of you which caused the rain water from the ground to be splashed all over you.

“Well, fuck” you exhale.

You lowered the bag covering your head as you were already soaking wet from head to toe and wiped your dripping face swearing to yourself that the universe hated you.

As soon as the car passed, the person on the other side of the road, jogged towards you and adjusted his umbrella over your head “What the hell were you thinking?”

You were quite confused as to why this person was suddenly scolding you so you just furrowed your brows at him.

“Walking home without an umbrella in this weather? Are you stupid?”

“Well what do you want me to do? spend the night at 7-eleven?” you didn’t mean to respond with sarcasm but you just got soaked with rain water and this guy who was nagging you while talking just called you stupid which did not help you and your anger issues.

“Better than ending up looking like a wet dog that just played in the mud but I think it’s a little too late for that” he said as he looked you up and down.

“Hey, it’s not my fault! that guy was driving like he’s in grand theft auto!”

“Well if you just stayed back in the store and waited for the storm to at least calm down a little bit then you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place and I wouldn’t have had to leave my delicious cup of ramen in there all alone” he raised his brow acting as if he made a point.

“No one asked you to do that”

“No one asked me to be so unbelievably hot either but here I am”, you scoffed at his sudden cockiness but you’d rather eat your own arm than feed a man’s ego so you looked at him with a distasteful expression “Just go back to your ramen, I can handle myself”

“Lies. You’ll freeze to death before you could even get half-way home. Here, take this” he took off his jacket and handed it to you.

The cold wind mixed with rain and your wet clothes hit you like a truck bigger than your ego but your stubbornness still got the better of you “I-I don’t need it”

“you’re literally shivering like a little puppy”, he was right but are you going to admit to that? No.

“I bite into my ice cream without feeling a thing and sleep right in front of the air conditioner, I think I’ll be fine”

He poked his tongue in his cheek, showing his annoyance “Why do you have to be so difficult? you’d rather walk home freezing than put your pride aside for a second?” the angrier he got while scolding you, the more he talked in a pout so instead of scaring you into listening, you actually found it a little cute—

“Hey, are you listening?!” thunder struck all of a sudden which made you flinch and Donghyuck swore right then and there that you were the most adorable thing in existence.

After seeing you jump from the thunder, his expression softened and suddenly the rain was pouring heavier than before and you were shivering like crazy. He sighed, and put his jacket over your shoulders himself.

You were gonna take it off and give it back to him but he stopped you “if you take that off, I’ll kiss you” normally, you would love to challenge a bluff but you couldn’t take it anymore, it was so cold and you had no other choice, so you mumbled a quick “fine” and although it didn’t help much, you did feel a lot warmer.

He smiled at you, satisfied with your decision “Great, so where are we headed?”

“We?” you looked up at him confused

“mhmm, were you just expecting me to give you my umbrella and let you go home with my adidas track top?” he said with a ridiculing expression

“pretty much, yeah”

“This is my only umbrella and that jacket costs over a $60, I’m not letting you walk away with it just like that and besides, there are loads of creeps out here”

“$60 for a jacket this thin?” you held up the sides of the jacket wondering how a jacket so thin could cost more than your weeks worth of allowance.

“Yeah, it’s a bit off a rip-off, but that’s not the point, dummy. I’m your only option of getting home safe wether you like it or not”

“You don’t even know me, why do you care so much if something happens?“

“My gentleman nature is truly my biggest flaw-“ you rolled your eyes and turned around, ready to walk away but he held your shoulders back “ah ah, hold on! My mom would never forgive me if she found out I left a girl all alone to walk home in the rain”

You sighed “Fine but no talking, I’ve already used up all my social juice for the day” he nodded cutely and snuggled beside you.

You didn’t get the chance to think about it but he looked around your age and appeared to be a student as well, considering the fact that he wore a tracksuit and was carrying a backpack.

You tried to catch a glimpse of his face every now and then and you weren’t gonna lie, he definitely wasn’t bad looking.

Being a little shorter than him, it gave you the opportunity to study his side-profile; his jaw was quite defined and his features were really soft and he had these insanely fluffy cheeks oh- and you also noticed his plump lips that made it look like he was always pouting.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” he said with a straight face, not even bothering to look in your direction.

“What?” you widened your eyes, blood rushing to your cheeks due to embarrassment.

“What? you think I haven’t noticed you staring at me for the past five minutes? you’re practically undressing me with your eyes” he playfully rolled his eyes.

You slapped his arm “No, I wasn’t! what’s wrong with you!”

He let out a chuckle, finding your annoyance and the way you turn red when embarrassed very amusing but you on the other hand just stayed with a pout and furrowed brows.

Donghyuck soon realized that you haven’t caught each other’s name yet “so what’s your name?”

“I thought I said no talking”

“Come on, small talk won’t hurt you”

I guess it’s better than walking in awkward silence “I’m y/n”

“Cute. I’m Donghyuck“ he smiled.

Since you were making small talk, you decided to ask about him more “if you don’t mind me asking, are you still a student?”

“A high school junior, yes, you?”

“Oh my god! same!” Donghyuck noticed how you got a little too excited over something so little but little did he know, that your childlike nature was just a sample of your many unforgettable qualities.

“Really? your height is making me think otherwise”

“Hey! My height is average!” you stopped and started to get defensive.

“And it’s not like you could talk, you’re not even that much taller!” that was a lie, he stood a good 7 inches taller than you making him the perfect height to give you forehead kisses.

“Okay mike wazowski, let’s keep it moving”

“Are you really trying to get me mad?!”

You looked so cute with your brows knit together and mouth forming a thin line that Donghyuck just couldn’t help but laugh “No offense but I literally feel like I’m being threatened by a cupcake”

“Do you want to fight?!” and just like that, Donghyuck found his new favorite hobby: annoying the living hell out of you.

“Pftt, what are you gonna do? eat my kneecaps?” he rolled his eyes.

“You know what, take your umbrella, I’m going home on my own!” You were ready to leave and he chuckled “Come onnnnn, I’m just kidding, it’s already-“ he checked his phone for the time “10:57 and I have to be home by midnight”

“Who are you? Cinderella?”

“Yeah but I’m much prettier and charming plus I have a mom who will eat me alive if I stay out too late so let’s get going”

“okay but you have to promise to stop teasing me”

“Alright. I’ll try” and with that you huffed continued with your walk home

You didn’t want to admit it but you really enjoyed Donghyuck’s company, there was just a natural sense of familiarity with him which made you feel at ease.

He would talk about the most random things but no matter what they were, he always found a way to put a smile on your face.

He even talked about his little puppy at home who probably misses him which made you feel bad because the puppy must be so sad right now and here you are, taking up too much of Donghyuck’s time.

You were both so into these conspiracy theories that you didn’t even notice that thirty minutes have passed and you were right in front of you house.

“Well, uhm, this is me” you smiled softly.

“Oh then I guess I’ll get going now” he responded, getting ready to go home.

“Wait uh- thanks for you know, walking me home and stuff.. I’m really sorry for being rude earlier” you looked at the ground, feeling ashamed of how you acted earlier when he was only trying to help.

He chuckled, ruffling your hair “It’s fine, I won’t exactly be very happy either if I got ground water splashed all over me while it’s 10 degrees outside, but you do owe me a cup of ramen”

“Oh come on, that probably only costed like a dollar or something” you whined

“3$ actually and it was a really delicious cup of ramen so I’m gonna have to get your number because I’m not letting this one slide” if Donghyuck was being honest, he couldn’t give two fucks about the ramen; normally, he’d be really mad about it but the fact that he can use it as an excuse to get your number, made up for it.

“fine” and that was how it all started.

Now, you could’ve called a cab that night or asked someone to come pick you up but you didn’t. Call it fate or your brain just wasn’t working at the time but you sure as hell know it happened for a reason because that’s what brought Hyuck to you.

There are forces in the universe that we don’t understand, measurable forces that can’t be explained but also can’t be denied and nobody gets it but maybe that’s what it was because right here, right now you’re with a distressed Donghyuck because you both forgot your umbrellas and have to take shade under an oak tree.

He hated the rain, he would squirm every time it hit his skin yet he still gave up his jacket to cover you. He continued to scold you because quite frankly, you stopping to pet every single stray animal you saw was the reason why you got caught in the middle of the rain anyway.

“You know, one of these days, one of those strays will bite or scratch you and you’re gonna get rabies” there he was again with his lips in a pout, annoyed by the continuous droplets of rain meeting his golden skin.

“Hmm maybe, but until then, I’m gonna stop to pet every single one I see because all of them deserve love and attention. You know, if it were up to me-“ he cut you off “You’re gonna adopt all the stray animals in the world and take care of them, I know. You literally never fail to mention that” you smiled at how he always seems to never listen to you yet he remembers the little things. But then you noticed that he was shivering “are you cold? do you want your jacket back?”

“no, I’m fine” he exhales.

You furrowed your brows and looked at him with worry and of course he noticed.

“Baby, I’m fine, I swear, all this sexual tension between us from being so close together is enough to keep me warm”

You playfully hit his arm and he chuckled “No, seriously, keep it, you need it more than me” oh, he hated it, he hated it so so much. He wanted to be anywhere with you but there but he wasn’t gonna admit to that and he didn’t want you to worry.

Youu started to talk in a pout, a habit you unconsciously picked up from your boyfriend whenever you were worried “but you’re shivering, can we at least share it?”

Donghyuck knows the jacket would never fit the both of you but he also knows that you’re not one to give up easily, it’s one of his most favorite things about you, except when you’re arguing or playing games because you’re both egotistical assholes yet you’re the only one who can put him in his place and the only one he sets his pride aside for.

You looked at him snuggled right beside you, trying his best to not let the rain touch you and despite the situation being unfavorable, right at this exact moment, everything just felt right and you know you were supposed to be here.

[aaluminiumas]

Be the First

Kalifa vividly recalled her first days at CP9: to be accepted, she had to go through a huge number of entrance tests and to obtain a pile of various certificates to become a rookie among other elite combat troops under the notorious Rob Lucci. Oddly enough, her relation to one of the leading assassins of the organization didn’t play a significant part in the whole process: obviously, the World Government was aware of the fact, but she could be certain that her father never petitioned for her. Kalifa was appointed to the post of undercover agent by means of her own strength, stamina, knowledge and skills.

She worked with Lucci from the very beginning. Despite a small difference in age, he seemed significantly older and more mature comparing to nearly anyone she was acquainted with. Although the woman knew what she would be dealing with and what her duties would include, the man nonetheless caused a slight spark of repulsion in her, he gave her an unpleasant impression. Appearance-wise, Lucci did not look like an assassin at all but something about his manners seemed so vaguely intimidating that Kalifa had to admit – this man breathed danger. He was peril incarnate.

She learned about her father’s occupation late enough to be able to compare the two: while Laskey managed to hide his real attitude, Lucci barely disguised his bloodthirst. Unbearably handsome, atrocious and completely aloof, the man stared at people with clear disdain as if the only thing he saw was, in fact, a stink fish that didn’t even deserve his attention. In addition, his movements, swift and economic, immediately exposed his perfect body-control. He already knew the victim’s weak spots – and would hit there without a heads-up – he wasn’t particularly coy not to harness the skill.

That was the first time Kalifa faced his unbiased attitude. Normally, she was surrounded by a group of persistent suitors attempting to touch her or to make a superfluously eloquent compliment – in all honesty, even the indifferent carpenters of Water 7 let themselves whistle in her wake, but Lucci, unlike many others, barely paid any heed to her: even a vase in the headquarters got a bigger scrape of it. His calm grey eyes hardly passed across her – he absolutely did not care whether he was training a confident woman or a garishly painted kabuki actor.

Evidently, for that reason exclusively she recollected her first training. She had already been considered as an equal to those men, and she did not beg for mercy, no matter how hard it was to prepare herself for the future trials. In all honesty, Lucci made no endeavor to offer it to her; while all the erstwhile supervisors before him spilled ribald comments over the woman, this one kept counting the attendees, undisturbed. To tell the truth, the woman was curious: the scuttlebutt fueled by witnesses mentioning a peculiar amalgamation of beauty, devious mind and excessive brutality outmatching the vilest pirates didn’t scare her off but confirmed the statement that this man was unique. He appeared to control even those who didn’t serve under his command – at any rate, Lucci needed a glance to shut a talker up. There’s little wonder how he got his place in the sun – he had become one of the few whose authority remained unscathed even after the destruction of Enies Lobby.

“I will not detain anyone,” Lucci’s cold, quiet voice came. “One whimper, and rest assured… we will never meet again.”

His opening address before the training turned out extremely terse and laconic – and did contain an obscure threat. Kalifa became the first who dared step forward for a sparring round. Kaku, Kumadori, Jabra, Blueno and Fukuro preferred to stay clear and watch: albeit they got an opaque understanding of what was prepared for them, they found solace in being last.

It was the first time when Lucci beat her up.

Kalifa failed to dodge, and despite her outstanding kami-e and soru skills, she hadn’t managed to show the level Lucci would consider satisfactory. Tired of the boring and stultifying pursuit, he effortlessly broke through her tekkai and kept mauling her after his initial powerful blow. Impassive and unaffected, he kept lambasting and clawing her fiercely, not a single emotion contorted the fine features of his visage. Seeing her staggering, he used his shigan against her – and the woman, bleeding enormously, fell on the ground.

However, she did not emit a single sound.

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed Kaku growing paler. He wasn’t exactly spineless, but he for sure came short of stamina comparing to her… What’s happened, actually? Looks like no one managed to demonstrate sufficient knowledge of such techniques as kami-e and soru, let alone tekkai: they barely maintained it for a second, and it turned out useless as Lucci breached the invisible shield easily with the attack Kalifa calmly repelled. Though, she wasn’t quite positive of it, to be honest: the last memory faded away as she focused on standing up to walk to her room.

Late at night, the woman clenched her teeth trying to tear off the bloodied rags of her clothes – they stuck to the gashes, and stripped off with the skin. Kalifa had to clean out the grazes she could reach, but as the ugly marks covered almost her entire back which was in tatters after the rampant onslaught – it was nearly impossible to swathe every wound. Moreover, the slightest touch caused searing pain in every cell of her body, and she couldn’t move wondering whether she was about to faint or could stay conscious. In fact, she did have the right to go to the hospital juxtaposed between the headquarters and the training site in order to get professional help, but it was obvious what consequences it could entail. Every assassin worked in “field” conditions, and Lucci, maybe unaware, was preparing them for the upcoming trials and impediments. Only a few succeeded, but those who were attested, became the best and later morphed into a legend within the confines of the organization.

Next morning, she stepped forward again. The man eyed her from head to toe with the similar concealed disdain and contempt she had noticed previously – and lambasted her in the same fashion though did not use his shigan for his own reasons: he either thought her to be unworthy of it, or failed to see an equal adversary in her as she knelt after several stabs. Albeit she surrendered shortly, her tekkai seemed to improve and got thicker – though moving much slower, Kalifa managed to resist for a while longer.

“There’s no point in your staying here if you cannot evade a blow.”

The gossip she’d heard were not untrue, Lucci turned out a real monster… As a human being, as a man, as a leader – but to her surprise, his brutality never baffled her: it failed to arouse any emotion inside of her as silent humiliation and battering became a part of the routine. Day by day taciturn insults reduced, Kalifa sensed that she was gradually approaching the ideal she had conjured in her head but the imperturbable pale face remained aloof as ever. In Lucci’s eyes she still remained a pathetic loser, even though she had made a long way to establish herself as one of the few female agents of CP9.

The man had eliminated almost all emotions except for perverse delight at the sight of the power he wielded: spoiled by his own abilities and skills, the intimidating Rob Lucci relished the consternation he inculcated in others, and when he saw her naked back painted in crimson red stripes, he simply grinned under his breath. His fingers lingered across the scarcely healed wounds and pressed on the freshest cut while indifferently muttering that she got off cheaply. He could’ve killed her during that training by aiming an inch higher.

He offered her a chance to be the best.

He improved her skills and knowledge through lambasting her so brutally and ingeniously as he did to no one. She learnt to avoid the most devious attacks; she escaped and hid behind him; she grew stronger: she was no longer Laskey the assassin’s daughter – she got her own name, she was the Kalifa everybody feared.

What about the cost?.. Thanks to an ointment, all the scars got healed pretty well. Actually, no one else needed it just as much: Jabra wiped blood off under his nose and spitted off chunks directly into the sink; Kumadori howled as the most lugubrious and woeful yurei complaining that “his hair were pulled with too much force”… Kaku may be the only to catch his breath after trainings, and Kalifa once took notice of his trembling fingers hovering over a fresh bite on his shoulder. But she was much better. She stood out.

She couldn’t be compared to Rob Lucci but at least she impelled him to respect her – if he ever respected anyone. After the humiliating defeat of CP9 he intended to do her in, just as any top-notch undercover agent would do, but wasn’t it the very same desire she used to read in those lackluster grey eyes all along? Wasn’t it exactly the thought that crossed his mind – didn’t he want to reciprocate in response to his personal setbacks and those of his own department?.. He definitely had a reason to track her down, and he assigned Kaku to be his lapdog in accordance with his ulterior motives. Rob Lucci always had plans – she comprehended it immediately.

The woman approached the mirror and stared into the reflection of the violet eyes. They darkened around the pupil but eventually grew lighter dispersing in the miscellaneous, minuscule streaks. The woman took her red lipstick and slightly tapped it on the lips.

Kalifa was no longer afraid. She had become the best.

And she will keep going.

[epicbasher65685]

(Soo yeah a few people wanted to read this so here it is. sorry I can’t write for anything but I tried my hardest to get my head cannon across)

TW: descriptions of blood and gore, abuse

“What a fantastic song! No one could ever go wrong with the brilliant song “Let’s Misbehave” by none other than the darb Cole Porter!” Alastor exclaimed excitedly with his powerful transatlantic accent into the microphone. “Truly a marvelous performance. Anywho! The bayou killer strikes again! That’s right folks you heard it here first! The bayou killer claims their 11th victim! Oh the tragedy! There seems to be a pattern in this killer’s cycle. The moon cycle! Who would’ve guessed? And who will be the twelfth on the full moon? What kind of monster from hell could possibly cause this much pain and torture to both the victims and their families?” He questioned the listeners. His smile grew bigger at his sarcastic yet genuine sounding empathy. Deep within him he knew there was none. If he tried to look any deeper in himself the only thing we would find would be the rumbling of his stomach and it’s almost snickering like sounds, laughing mischievously and knowingly at his sarcastic line of questioning. Alastor reached over and closed the report he was reading from with a resounding thud, a look of accomplishment graced his face. The listeners were shocked with the news, seeing that the killer is still at large and could pounce on them or their loved ones at any moment. “Lock your doors and stay safe ladies and gentlemen! This concludes tonight’s broadcast. Oh oh! Almost forgot the regularly scheduled joke! Just to lighten the mood a bit. What happened when the cannibal was late for dinner? He got the cold shoulder! Ahahahahaha! See you tomorrow folks, stay safe!” He said brightly as he ended his radio broadcast, turning off his equipment and microphone.

The streets were full of Ebullience and joyful spirit. The year was 1933. New Orleans, Louisiana was really quite a marvelous and interesting place to live. Alastor McCarthy walked down the sidewalk in his clean white shirt and suspenders, shoes polished so thoroughly you can see the bright sun and the blue sky reflecting off of it! All the Cadillacs and Buicks cruised down the smoothly paved road. Almost everyone in this town knew Alastor. And Alastor knew almost everyone just as well. The lovely people waved as they saw him walk by, and he of course would wave back with a friendly smile on his face. He was always smiling! One happy fellow indeed, everyone would imagine. He walked down the sidewalk with a pep in his step softly humming to the bustling jazz that played from the gramophones in the nearby shops. He was making his way home now, it was almost supper and he needed to help his mother prepare it! Oh yes, Alastor loved his mother dearly, she was a true light in his life. People like to tease him sometimes and call him somewhat of a mama's boy. He would be lying if he protested this though. He truly loved his mother. His father, however, he did not. Just the thought of him made Alastors smile falter, just a smidge. He was a real goof, and a drunk. Alastor despised him, but only put up with him because his mother still loved him. Alastor could never see what an amazing woman like herself could ever find in a hunk of junk like him.

The noise of the streets died down as he started to approach his neighborhood. The walk from the radio station to his house was only a 30 minute or so walk. He figured it was good exercise and also an efficient way to build up his appetite. When Alastor wasn’t doing his radio broadcasts, he would find himself hunting deer in the nearby bayou. His father showed him how to hunt when he was a young boy. He had mastered the art of hunting and butchering the creatures he captured. Whether it be deer, rabbit, boar… human. His mother taught him the culinary arts, which he soon too mastered. He would help his mother prepare jambalaya, his favorite dish, when he was younger. He reminisced about those good ol’ days. Well, most of it at least. He had finally arrived home.

“Hello mother! Father.” He called out into the calm house. He took his shoes off and saw his mother appear from the kitchen.

“Oh! Alastor, how I’ve missed you dear.” She said lovingly as she ran toward Alastor to hug him. “How was your day? Anything exciting happening down in that ol’ radio station? I completely forgot to tune in today. Silly me. Apologies!”

“No need mother, it was just business as usual, quite copacetic! We had our top music hits and, well, a quite shocking report on the bayou killer.” Alastor explained

“Oh? Was he murdered? Oh oh! Caught by the fuzz? Hot dawg!” She exclaimed in excitement.

“...No mother, he was not. Always jumping to conclusions! Ahahaha. My, that’s just like you!” He said. Her words pained him only in the slightest. She obviously disliked this killer. Yet she unknowingly loved this said killer more than anyone else. He felt a sick giddy because of this. Why, he found it quite humorous! How twisted. “He’s claimed his 11th victim, unfortunately.” He said with a softer voice.

“Oh dear… how horrible. I can’t believe he’s getting away with this! Someone has to stop him eventually.” She said with sadness in her eyes. Alastor didn’t like to see her like this, not ever!

“Yes I know, quite the tragedy I’m sure. I heard he was a rude man however, a real dewdropper as some may say! The man had nothing going for him anyways.” He explained, or rather explained himself, for that matter.

“Darlene, when the hell is that dinner going to be finished?” Gus, Alastors father, yelled from the living room couch. He had just finished his twelfth beer of the day. Alastor could hear the subtle clinks of the glass bottle against the cup holder. Indicating that yes, he had indeed gotten drunk again.

“It’ll be ready in about half an hour dear!” She yelled back, Completely forgetting about the news of the bayou killer. An audible groan sounded from the living room in response.

“Alastor, would you be a dear and help me peel the potatoes for dinner?” She questioned

“Of course mother! Let’s get started then shall we?” Alastor asked joyfully.

Once dinner was prepared and the table was set, Alastor’s mother called for Gus to come and eat. Another audible groan sounded from the living room as Gus managed to stand up, very blotto from all his drinks. Without anyone seeing, Alastor was quick to drop a pill into Gus’s drink at the table. He then turned away and started to whistle an innocent jazz tune.

“Oh, Alastor, I almost forgot about the pie in the oven. Would you mind taking it out for me and cutting it’s pieces?” She asked him kindly. Alastor responded with a quick ‘yep!’ and put on the oven mitts. He took the pie out and put it on the stove. He took his mitts off and placed them back on the counter, only to replace them with a knife. Without hesitation he stuck the knife into the steaming pie. It smelt like delicious baked cherries. The pie oozed red juice and covered the knife. He continued to cut even slices into the beautiful pie. He stared longingly at his work, admiring the precise cuts and the knife dripping red juice. He licked the knife clean and saw his father's reflection walking into the room when he looked at the knife. He stared for a moment, then put the knife into the sink. Gus finally arrived at the table as everyone sat down.

“So what do we have here?” Gus questioned as he occasionally hiccuped. He had messy black hair and his eyes were half lidded. He wore a black vest with his tie sloppily tied.

“Well I made venison, mashed potatoes, and beans for tonight. That damn venison was quite tricky to cook, but hopefully I got it just right.” She explained

“I’m sure it turned out great, mother.” He smiled at her. Alastor eyed his father as he sat down. Gus started digging in with the slightest amount of politeness. Hungrily shoving the food into his mouth. Alastor sighed and picked up his utensils to start eating.

“What is it boy? You’ve got something to say?” He snapped at Alastor. Glaring at him with whatever amount of sobriety he had left.

“No, sir.” Alastor responded while staring at his plate. He hated this. He hated his father and he hated how he treated both him and his mother. Not to mention how rude he was. All of the bayou killers victims reminded him of his father. What a coincidence huh? No, he chose them very carefully, and he planned out every bit of it. Every time he killed them he imagined as though the person was truly his father. It gave him satisfaction and it quenched his thirst, for the time being. But this thirst would always reappear. He could never get rid of it through these involuntary murders of his, and he knew this. He knew it would only be a matter of time before… he would claim his final victim. That’s all Alastor thought about when he looked his father in the eyes. The twelfth. The twelfth. The twelfth. The second full moon. It will complete his design.

“Whatever,” He sneered at Alastor. Gus downed his drink in a few gulps. Alastor watched with a smile. Then Gus began to cut into the venison, and suddenly there was an irritated look on his face. “This venison is overcooked.” He started while he looked up at Darlene.

“Oh, yes I was afraid that might happen…” Darlene quietly said with a look of disappointment appearing on her face.

“Isn’t that just perfect? Maybe you should learn how to cook properly instead of having a gay ol’ time dancing swing like a flapper at the club down the road. Dumb-Dora can’t do anything right can you? Darlene was taken back by his sudden outburst. She apologized and told him it wouldn’t happen again with a tinge of fear spreading on her face and tears threatening to breach her eyes.

“Well, actually, I do have something to say,” Alastor said as he interrupted his mother’s apologies. “Maybe if you stopped getting bent everyday like a normal person, maybe people might actually like you! You’re such a flat tire and a real boozehound. You think it’s ok to treat us like this? For crying out loud you’ve been doing this for years! You just futz around and do whatever you want, when you want, and how you want!” Alastor exclaimed loudly at his father while eyeing him with a scornful look. He wasn’t going to let him talk to his mother that way, no sir! Enough was enough. Darlene looked at Alastor in shock. She really can’t believe he said that to him. A wave of panic hits her knowing what’s going to come next.

“Why, you little! How dare you talk to me like that? I come home after a long day and this is what I get? A cheap meal and a disrespectful family?” Gus’s voice grew louder and louder with every word he spoke. He pointed to Alastor. “You… I’ll wipe that stupid smile off your face permanently!” Gus stood up and walked over to Alastors side of the table. Alastor and Darlene stood up quickly, knowing this situation is about to become physical.

“Don’t you dare touch him!” Darlene shouted as she grabbed hold of Alastors arm. Alastor backed up while the adrenaline started coursing through his veins. Gus took hold of Darlene and threw her against the counter. She fell on the way down with a yelp hitting her head on the edge of the counter. Darlene’s vision started to blur and soon after she drifted into unconsciousness as she heard the faint yelling of Alastor.

“You absolute madman! Now look what you’ve done. You’re some real tough guy hm? Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy my next show, you’re the super important participant, after all!” Alastor said with a growing smile. His creole accent slipping out for only a moment as he yelled. “Aren’t you excited?”

“What are you… talking about..?” Gus talked as his words became sloppy and quiet. The once calming and peaceful kitchen warping and turning in place as his vision grew cloudy and dark. His eyes lidded fully, the last thing he saw before he fell to the ground was Alastors prideful smile. Alastor thought Gus would pull something like this. All this commotion, that is. Yet it was in the back of his mind as was planning out his demise. He stared at Gus for a good while, lying there helplessly. Although this isn’t exactly how he planned it out, he was still ultimately satisfied with the outcome. That is, until he remembered his mother lying on the ground. Her nicely combed and silky brunette hair in a bun was now frizzing out everywhere, the bun loosened from the altercation. Her lids shielding her innocent blue eyes to what has become of her husband, and the truth of her faithful son. Alastor slowly picked her up and placed her on the couch. He took an ice pack from the kitchen and placed it on the noticeable bump on her forehead.

“Do wake up soon, won’t you?” He whispered to her. He kissed her forehead and made his way into the kitchen. He managed to pick his father up with a few strained breathes, grabbed the knife out of the sink, and walked out the backdoor.

It was about 8pm now, and the sun had already cast its final flare. Only to replace it, was a thoughtless moon. Alastor navigated his way throughout his backyard and soon into the bayou unseen. Gus remained unconscious and hung over Alastors shoulder. Once Alastor traversed deep enough into the bayou. He tied Gus up to an old bald cypress tree. It’s leaves spaced out enough to let the moonlight fall and flicker between them. A few moments later, Gus finally awoke to a conscious state. Confused and dazed to where he was, and how he got there.

“Hello lucky contestant! Welcome to my show!” Alastor exclaimed in a cheerful announcer voice.

“Al? Where.. where the hell am I?” He said in a choked voice. He tried to move his arms, but they were restrained by a tightly tied rope. “What the hell are you doing?” He said as his voice wavering. Alastor took out his knife and walked slowly up to Gus. Gus watched every little movement Alastor made, his adrenaline rising with each step.

“Oh you poor thing. Haven’t you realized what’s happening by now?” Alastor teased as he lunged playfully forward, causing Gus to gasp and defensively lean back in the tree. ‘How pathetic’ Alastor thought to himself. “What? Don’t tell me your giving me the cold shoulder! Ahahahahahaha!” Alastor laughed at his silly little inside joke. He lowered himself to Gus’s level on the ground and pointed the knife at his chest. “Boy that thing must be pounding! I think I’ll eat your heart first!” Alastor exclaimed once again. Gus’s face was pale with fear as the knife slowly etched its way inside of his chest, blood soaking his already stained shirt. He screamed in excruciating pain as Alastor carved all the way down to his waistline. Exposing his organs and blood to the everlasting moonlight. Gus writhed in pain as he looked Alastor in the eyes.

“Y-you…killed them?” Gus managed to choke out. Disbelief filled his eyes.

“Hmm? Oh! That’s correct!” Alastor said while he backed up, admiring his work. Alastor looked down at his hands and his cuffed sleeves. The blood dripping off of his hands was much more black then the usual dark red.

“My! The mother was right! Blood really does look black in the moonlight,” He said. His smile unwavering and as prominent as always. That was the last thing Gus saw as his vision started to melt away for the last time. Alastor kneeled beside Gus and pulled out his heart behind his rib cage. He took a big bite from it without hesitation, just like how one would eat an apple. He noted that it tasted almost the same as a deers.

Soon after, a sudden rush of panic struck Alastor as he heard a males voice calling close by. He quickly turned toward the sound and saw multiple men in the distance holding flashlights pointing in Alastors direction. He hopped to his feet in a frenzy and ran deeper into the bayou. It was dark and he could barely see where he was running, but all he knew was that he needed to get away. It was only a matter of time the cops had found him. The pattern was quite obvious, Alastor knew. Yet, he thought it was orderly and scheduled, and that was something he’s always taken to heart. As he was running, he recalled his fondest memories and previous murders as the cops chased him on his tail. He knew this was it for him, unless he could throw them off somehow. Quickly, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a figure. It was a lone deer. It looked him in the eye without movement. The deer eyed him knowingly. The full moon shining between its broad antlers.

Suddenly, the night and day remembered how they came to be. Alastor glared back at this deer, his smile wavering as he was shot dead in the forehead with a rifle. He fell to the ground as his smile fell completely. A hunter had missed the deer, accidentally shooting Alastor killing him instantly. Surely it was too dark for the hunter to have seen him. There was no hope for him. Then, the deer quickly ran off into the deep bayou startled from the shadow of nobody there.

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Mr. Line

“If a tree falls in the woods, and nobody is around to hear it, and it hits a mime, does anyone care?” ~ Gary Larson

DESIGN

Mime Jr.’s actually pretty cute, looking like a tiny little silly clown. The design is a bit generic but also very effective, making it a creature with just enough clown parts so that you know it’s a clown without so many clown parts to look terrifying. It also manages to look a lot like one of those clown-faced ice creams you can get at some places, where the cone is upside down as a hat. The point is, Mime Jr. is a small, cute pokemon that works perfectly fine.

Next is “Kantonian” Mr. Mime, and I put that in quotes because this Pokemon isn’t actually Kantonian. As with Farfetch’d, Mr. Mime is called Kantonian because that’s the first region we as players could get it, but the only ones available in Kanto outside of Let’s Go are either from trades or from the game counter, plus a very tiny amount that appear in the grass patch south of Pallet Town in Gold and Silver but not Red and Blue, implying that someone in Pallet Town has been breeding and releasing Mr. Mimes, and I’m not going to say who, but we all know these Mimes are a certain protagonist’s half-siblings, don’t we?

So where is Mr. Mime from? Well, we’ve established that the first Mr. Mime we met, Marcel, didn’t come from Kanto, and there’s no Mr. Mime in Johto, Hoenn, or Unova. Alola’s a weird one, as they don’t appear in Sun and Moon but they do appear in both Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon. Still, they’re only in one location and Alola is known for having many imported Pokemon.  Sinnoh’s a possibility- while the Trophy Garden is clearly cultivated, Mr. Mime and Mime Jr. both appear in the wild in Diamond (but not Pearl). Still, I think the actual natural habitat of this Mr. Mime is the Reflection Cave in Kalos. Not only would a mime Pokemon make the most sense in the Kalos region, but it’d make far more sense for it to be living in a hall of mirrors than simply wandering grasslands as it does in Diamond. Further, this is in much closer proximity to the Galar Region, where Mime Jr.s and Galarian Mr. Mimes wander freely.  Thus, for the rest of this article I’m going to refer to this creature as Kalosian Mr. Mime.

And Kalosian Mr. Mime is terrifying. This thing is so Uncanny Valley that it goes down to becoming some sort of Uncanny Trench where light vanishes and there’s no hope for escape. It has all the most terrifying aspects of a clown, with a vaguely human form that isn’t quite right, hair that resembles horns, and an uncomfortably close relationship with your mother. Its bright coloration and curly feet are just sort of haunting, giving the illusion that it’s wearing clothes while in actuality that’s all just part of it’s horrible, horrible body.

In contrast, Galarian Mr. Mime is much friendlier looking. The pants help a lot, but so do the big gloves and the nose. It looks less like a monster and more like a cartoony man, and while it’s still weird to see a Pokemon that’s so humanlike, this version doesn’t feel inherently wrong and unsettling. Much better design here, unless the goal is to freak people out. That said, I just don’t buy this as an evolved form of Mime Jr. Galar really needed a Galarian Mime Jr. to finish the set, because as is Mime Jr. turning into Galarian form in Galar and Kalosian form anywhere else just feels off.  The other weird thing is that Galarian Mr. Mime, with its new focus on tapdance, doesn’t still feel like it should be called Mr. Mime. It’s something I complain about a lot with alternate forms, but if a creature’s called Mr. Mime it should be miming, not dancing, and if a creature’s called Sandshrew it should be sand based. 

Visually, I love Mr. Rime. He’s got all the charm of Galarian Mr. Mime but now has a silly hat and an ice cane. He also gets the red bubble on his stomach back from being a Mime Jr. which makes me question why Galarian Mr. Mime doesn’t have it. Mime Jr. links fine to Mr. Rime, but through features lost along the way, like its hat and its big red poofs. Mr. Rime is also clearly Charlie Chaplin, and I love the pun of its name in that it’s both Rime and Rhyme.

EVOLUTIONS:

Oh god this line is a mess.

First we get Mime Jr, which has first form starter stats, but evolves when knowing the move Mimic. With no TM or TR, Mime Jr. learns Mimic at 32, finally evolving into a Pokemon whose stat total is still a bit small for a final form. If it’s not in Galar, it stays a Psychic/Fairy type. If it is in Galar, it becomes a Psychic/Ice type, which then evolves again at 42 into something that’s not actually that big a boost over its previous for, making Galarian Mr. Mime a good user of the Eviolite.

And then Mime Jr. is an incense baby, so if you breed two Mr. Mimes (and you can because despite the name half are female) you get a Mr. Mime if you’re not using incense. This is a stupid mechanic that they need to get rid of. 

As with Farfetch’d, the fact that the original doesn’t get a new evolution while the regional form does bothers me, because it doesn’t do anything to bring the original back into playability, it just gives us a new different Pokemon that makes the original less relevant.

I will say Mime Jr. was a good addition. While some baby Pokemon are a waste of time, Mime Jr.’s actually a really solid early-game Pokemon, and Mr. Mime’s strong enough that it shouldn’t be appearing until mid to late game anyway. Adding Mime Jr. adds a lot of playability to this line in PVE.

Art by Zerochan923600

TYPING:

Kalosian Mr. Mime spent a lot of time as a Psychic type until we actually went to Kalos and found out it was a Psychic/Fairy type this whole time. Defensively, this is decent. It only has three weaknesses, and while it only has three ‘resistances,’ one of them’s a double and one of them’s an immunity. Offensively, it’s super-effective against four types and neither type works well against Steel… but that’s Steel, and most things don’t work well against Steel.

Galarian Mr. Mime and Mr. Rime are Ice/Psychic types, with their only competition in that type combination being Jynx and the legendary Ice Rider Calyrex. Defensively, this is a really bad combination, with six weaknesses and only two resistances- Ice and Psychic themselves. Offensively, this gives super-effective options against six types with only Steel as a shared resistance. 

Art by DarkraiLady

STATS

Kalosian Mr. Mime has a whopping 120 Special Defense, but a mere 40 HP, seriously inhibiting its ability to actually tank, and only 65 physical defense. It’s 100 Special Attack is respectable, but Speed 90 isn’t really enough to make a sweeper out of it,  even with Nasty Plot.

Galarian Mr. Mime balances its stats a bit, trading Special Attack and Special Defense for a bit more HP and Speed, but the only thing here that really works out in its favor is that it can equip an Eviolite, turning it into an actual defensive Pokemon, albeit one that still has poorer HP than most. 

Mr. Rime brings up most of its stats as evolutions do, but weirdly drops its speed from 100 to 70. It manages to be more defensive than average post-evolution, but its key stat becomes its 110 Special Attack. Overall, its stats are fine, able to dish out hits and take them, and its worst stats are only a bit below average.

Singin’ in the Snow by Pizapioart

ABILITIES

Kalosian Mr. Mime and Galarian Mr. Mime have entirely different abilities, with Mr. Rime having another.

Like Electrode, Kalosian Mr. Mime can get Soundproof, and there’s plenty of Sound based attacks out there, making this a decent defensive option. This improves in 2v2 where you can pair it with Boomburst.

Filter, a near-Signature ability of Mr. Mime, is another powerful defensive option, reducing the damage of supereffective moves from 2x to 1.5x. As you can reasonably expect most opponents to have Poison, Steel, or Ghost moves somewhere in their lineup, you really can’t go wrong with this.

Technician increases the power of any of Mr. Mime’s moves of 60 power or less by 50%, and in theory this is a good ability, but Mr. Mime just learns all the good moves anyway. There’s no reason to use a Technician’d Confusion when you can learn Psychic, or a Technician’d Magical Leaf when you can learn Energy Ball. Skipping this should be easy, because it’s Mr. Mime’s Hidden Ability.

Galarian Mr. Mime (but not Mr. Rime) gets Vital Spirit, which grants immunity to sleep. This is fine and usable and plenty of enemies will try and put you to sleep, but this isn’t the reason you’d be using this Pokemon.

Mr. Rime gets Tangled Feet, which is a garbage ability for garbage Pokemon. Nobody needs raised evasion when confused, what they need is to not be confused.

Ice Body, hidden ability of Galarian Mr. Mime and Mr. Rime, causes a Pokemon to heal in Hail. Of course, every Pokemon that can get this, other than the not-fully-evolved Seel, takes no damage in Hail anyway, and it really takes a fully defensive playstyle to worry about using your ability on sometimes healing 1/16th max HP a turn. There are ways to build Mr. Rime for this, but it’ll involve other Poekmon on your team setting up the Hail and wanting it, too.

Besides, Galarian Mr. Mime and Mr. Rime have the signature ability “Screen Cleaner” which negates Reflect, Light Screen, and Aurora Veil upon switching in. This ability is honestly the best reason to use these Pokemon, more than anything they’ll actually do once on the field. Any ability that has an effect on switch in tends to be good, because as long as it’s something you wanted done, you basically just got a free action. 

Art by  PeregrineJazmin, formerly Retkikosmos

MOVES:

Psychic and Psyshock are both great options for your primary attack form. Psychic is a bit bigger, but as you’ll have a special move of your other element to fall back on, Psyshock adds a bit more versatility.

Kalosian Mr. Mime’s only Fairy attack is Dazzling Gleam so you take Dazzling Gleam. Galarian Mr. Mime/Mr. Rime gets your choice of Ice Beam, Blizzard, or Freeze-Dry. Freeze Dry has the drawback of being weaker most of the time, but extra strong against Water Types, which are rather common. Blizzard is more likely to outright end something, but without Hail its accuracy is rather poor.

Coverage options are pretty wide for the mimes. Thunderbolt, Energy Ball, Shadow Ball, and Focus Blast are available to both, with that last one being super effective against the Steel types that resist Psychic, Fairy, and Ice. 

If you think you’ll get a moment to build up, Nasty Plot is always a great move, as is the more defensive Calm Mind.

Mr. Rime gets two particularly interesting options: it can Rapid Spin, which combines well with Screen Cleaner to reset the field, and it can learn Slack Off, the normal type equivalent of Recover. 

The Mime family’s move pools are actually rather deep, and there’s plenty more options in there, like Hypnosis, Reflect and Light Screen, Baton Pass, Iron Defense, Stored Power, and, via older gens, Healing Wish.

Art by albrt-wlson, which I have to assume is short for Albert Wilson, but might actually be Alberta Walesong.

OVERALL:

I love to hate Mr. Mime, though overall the whole family winds up in the range of ‘fine.’ Mr. Rime’s speed loss is its biggest hit, but other than that there’s a lot of good stuff it can do, especially with both Screen Cleaner and Rapid Spin.  Having below average speed on a Pokemon with so many weaknesses is a problem, but with such a strong variety of moves there’s a lot that can make up for it.

Kalosian Mr. Mime, unfortunately, really needs that stat boost that Mr. Rime got or the ability to use Eviolite like Galarian Mr. Mime, and it just doesn’t have either. 

The other thing that really bugs me about Kalosian Mr. Mime is its abilities or lack thereof. In flavor, Mr. Mime is THE Barrier Pokemon. Reflect and Light Screen are supposed to be what it does better than anyone else… but it just isn’t. Sure, Soundproof, Filter, and Technician are interesting, but I’d have loved to see Mr. Mime have something like Prankster or an ability that mimicked Light Clay, anything to say ‘this is the Pokemon that is best at Reflect.’ Honestly it’s a problem I see in the game a lot, a Pokemon having a specifically mentioned ability or a clear signature move that the Pokemon just has no reason to use. At least Mr. Rime clearly wants to use Teeter Dance with Tangled Feet, even if that strategy isn’t a strong one.

It just really bugs me when a Pokemon isn’t good at what it’s supposed to do, even if it’s good in other ways.

[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.

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Index

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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. 

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it. 

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’. 

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'. 

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there. 

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else. 

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice. 

When he left us, everyone did.

---- ---- ---- ----

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now. 

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip. 

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train. 

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London. 

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members. 

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't. 

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father. 

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” 

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly. 

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me. 

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?” 

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.” 

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely. 

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could. 

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.” 

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. 

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule.  In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony. 

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister. 

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all. 

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

---- ---- ---- ----

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features. 

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by. 

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying. 

---- ---- ---- ----

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall. 

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony. 

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats. 

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly. 

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine. 

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do. 

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father. 

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks. 

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips. 

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control. 

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly. 

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his. 

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards,  as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead. 

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said. 

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked. 

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. 

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]

[pinballwitxh]

normal - request - spencer reid x oc

request: “Ok this is super duper self indulgent, but could you write a fic where Spencer’s doing that thing where he’s all self conscious about his looks/personality/general being and reader is just NOT having it. I need the Boy to be showered in praise and reassurance that hes the best (and if it ends a lil smutty, huzzah, praise the sun!!)”

warnings: self-image issues from Spencer, gets a lil steamy towards the end but not full on smut (rip I wanted to write this super smutty but it didnt really fit into the mood of the story)

a/n: I hope y’all like this!  whippin it up during work at the moment and I have had some ideas flowing since I got @spencers-sweater-vest​‘s request this morning.  hope you enjoy this, lovely!

also I named their cat FRODO cause I love lord of the rings and I think frodo is a great name for a cat or dog anyways ENJOY

- - -

She had arrived home late from work, which was rare but not unexpected.  Spencer had curled up underneath one of his warmest blankets and binge-watched Doctor Who all evening.  The team had returned home earlier that Sunday morning from a particularly grueling case and to say he needed a break was an understatement.

His head eventually lulled over the back of the couch, mouth open with small snores to accompany his steady breathing.  She made sure to close the door quietly and keep the lights turned off so as not to disturb him and made a mental note to not ask about the case until he was well-rested.

The meow of their young kitten, Frodo, startled her slightly and she stumbled into the kitchen table.  She cringed when the legs of the table skidded across the tile floor in a not-so-quiet manner.  Spencer’s head shot up immediately and he whipped around, disoriented.

“It’s just me!” she said with her hands up, “I didn’t mean to wake you up I’m so sorry-”

“You’re home late, what kept you?” he said as he stood up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

She leaned down to pick their small cat up, running her fingers behind his ears, “One of our longtime clients decided to back out of an advertising deal and we tried so hard to change their mind, but television was the route they want to go.  So there was that and the fact that we had to go through every single advertisement file we had on them and transfer all the necessary paperwork, I may or may not have fallen asleep at my desk, too. . .” she chuckled before sighing, “But I’m glad you’re back home, how did it go?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, a telltale sign that something was bothering him.  They each took seats next to each other at the kitchen table as he began to explain the case.  Frodo roamed between each of them on the table, mewing for scratches and rubbing underneath their chins.  

“I just feel like it could have gone better, if I had just kept my mouth shut-”

“Whoa, what does that mean?”

He sighed, “Well the boy’s parents were there and I just couldn’t stop myself from spewing out all of the statistics and possibilities and it upset them so much,”

She cocked her head, “You were just giving them information they needed to know, Spence.”

“I wasn’t thinking about them, I was so insensitive to their situation and the husband didn’t exactly appreciate that I made his wife cry,” he paused, “Sometimes I just can’t stop the words before they come out and I nearly ruined any cooperation they were willing to give.”

“You can’t blame yourself, you know with the way your brain is wired that you can’t always control it,” she reached out to him and stroked his cheek, “Some people just don’t understand and you can’t expect them to.  I doubt you nearly ruined the investigation,”

He pulled away from her hand and looked away, “I could have, if I had just kept my damn mouth shut. . .”

The way he trailed off so quietly concerned her and she furrowed her brows.  Spencer never got down on himself, hardly ever, and when he did she knew there were other problems he wasn’t telling her about.  

Spencer was really good at hiding things from her, especially his feelings.  He tended to bottle things up until something triggered a massive explosion.  This was usually followed by an angered shouting match with himself, or anyone else near him, but she knew he never meant to hurt anyone when that happened.

Usually it came from him being mad at himself.  If Spencer was mad at someone, he let them know In the kindest way possible.

“What are you really thinking about, baby?” she whispered, leaning close to him.

He blushed and avoided her eyes, keeping his head low, “I just wish I could be a little bit more. . .normal.”

“Normal?  Why would you ever want to be just normal?” she scooted closer to him so that their knees were touching and she laid a gentle hand over his thigh, “You know that’s what people love most about you, right?  You are so far from normal, Doctor Reid.  It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you,”

He scoffed, “I’m sure you could find someone better than me,”

He was stunned when she pushed herself away and stood up from the chair.  She glared at him, hands on her hips and jaw clenched.  Spencer met her glare and settled back into his chair, sinking lower under her gaze.

“Don’t you ever say anything like that again, got it?” she all but yelled, “No, you’re not normal, you are far from it, actually.  That doesn’t make you any less of a person, though, and it doesn’t make me love you any less.  How could you even think I would want someone else?”

He held her eyes to his and said nothing, unsure of how to even respond to her sudden outburst.

“In fact, your quirks and intelligence make me love you even more,” she took a step forward, “I love the way you frown when you’re thinking really hard about things or recalling the oddest bit of trivia,”

She took his face into her hands and tilted it up so he was looking straight at her.  Her thumbs rubbed small strokes across his cheekbone, something he loved to feel.  

“I also love the way you pout your lips when you come across something that actually stumps you,” she ran a thumb over his own chapped lips before leaning down slowly to kiss him.

“I love the way your nose crinkles when you’re embarrassed,” she placed a small kiss to the tip of his nose, then.

Spencer’s eyes went wide as she straddled him over the rickety kitchen chair, sitting in his lap as she continued to study his face.

“And I know you’ve been working extremely hard when those dark circles appear on your eyelids,” she slowly ran her thumb right under his eye, “And it makes me happy when they disappear cause I know that means you’ve had a good amount of uninterrupted sleep,” she leaned forward and placed sweet kisses over each of his eyes.

“I love when you grow your hair out, like it is now,” he let out a small yelp as she tugged his head back forcefully, gripping his curls tightly.  Slowly, she trailed her lips down his neck and smiled at the goosebumps that scattered across his skin.

“Periorbital ecchymosis isn’t that common but I don’t think it’s the root cause of a bigger issue-”

“Spence, shut up for a minute,” she said against his skin, “But I do find it incredibly sexy when you talk all smart to me,” he sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling of her tongue skimming across his throat.

She pulled away from his neck and reached for one of his hands, intertwining their fingers, “I love that you aren’t normal and I love that you don’t know when to stop talking, most of the time,” she winked at him, causing a very obvious and deep blush to cross his features.

“I know you may not love you completely but I hope it’s enough to know that I love you and your ‘imperfections,’ and that so many others feel the same way that I do about them,” she kissed his knuckles and pulled herself tighter to him, “They’re what make you, you.”

He finally met her eyes and smiled at her, causing her grin to intensify.  He placed a strong, calloused hand on her cheek and pulled her forehead to meet his own.  His lips met hers so gently she wasn’t even sure he was kissing her.  Slowly his arms coiled around her back and pulled her flush against him.

The kiss deepened and a sigh escaped Spencer’s throat, his hands tangled themselves in her tresses and he could smell her perfume that lingered on her neck.  Her tongue slid across his bottom lip, begging for access to the inside of his mouth.

His lips parted and her tongue explored the insides of his cheeks and battled for dominance against his own.  The kisses became more frantic and needy and she slipped her hands underneath his sweater, causing him to shiver.  Quickly she pulled it up and over his head, discarding it somewhere behind him.  Frodo let out a frightened screech when the sweater landed on top of him, causing the couple to laugh loudly at the skittish animal.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered as he turned back to look at her.  Her hands roamed over his chest and the little hair that was spread across it.  She ran her thumb over each, small freckle that dotted his skin, smiling to herself.

“I love you,” he said as he placed his hands on her hips, “I’m sorry for making you mad earlier.”

She kissed his forehead, “You just need to learn to love yourself better, Spence, I wish you could see yourself through everyone else’s eyes.”

He smiled up at her, “I don’t know what I would do without you, honestly.”

“Well you certainly would miss this,” she smirked as she pulled her shirt up slowly, teasing him.  His eyes were wide in hunger as she tossed the garment to the side, his hands sliding up her sides.  Even in just a camisole it did not fail to turn him on and get him hard.

She leaned forward and tilted his chin up as she pulled herself closer to him, legs dangling over the back of the chair.  Her smile was devilish, full of mischief and lust, something Spencer could feel himself beginning to reciprocate.

“Come to bed with me, Spencer.”

He reached around her body and placed a very firm squeeze to her ass, causing her to squeal in surprise and blush a deep red, “I have no objections to that demand,”

She leaned forward and kissed his lips once more, “Don’t ever forget how much I love you, too.”

THE MASTERLIST | REQUESTS DETAILS

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XXIV (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: Listen the things this book has put me through gave me PTSD and now nowhere is safe –(Sidenote! I did that author’s note a while back when wattpad crashed and all my drafts got deleted for a whole day, I was about to lay in my own misery when suddenly next day all my drafts were back! It still suck and I’m still afraid it can happen again BUT it’s alright now cause I have the whole book in a backup.

P.S. Sorry for the long notes, I like to talk to you

Words: 3,548

Warnings: None besides the few mistakes this could have bc I didn’t proofread

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Six: Back To Hogwarts.

Mel convinced her mother to let her sleep with Harry and Ron the last night of August, after all, she had no reason to sneak out this time.

So they set up a second mattress next to Harry's.

Ron was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, Harry and Mel were talking in his room.

"We can say this was the best summer of all, right?" Mel grinned.

"I think so," He nodded, playing with the edge of his blanket, "I had loads of fun"

"I hope we can come here every year," She sighed, supporting her head on one hand.

"Me too... you know, I think we're lucky to be here"

"How stinky the muggle world is for us, we don't have the best luck there... but that doesn't mean we're not lucky elsewhere"

"Said that for yourself," He raised a brow, "Emily looks after you. I don't have parents, nowhere else I'd enjoy myself as much as I do here"

The girl nodded, having no objection to his reply.

"I'm not complaining about my life, but now that I saw how a big family looks like, with siblings and all... I dunno, made me think of all the things I'm missing"

Harry looked up, she found herself unable to keep talking. Mel just shrugged, rubbing her eyes in order to have an excuse for the redness in them.

"I know it's silly-"

She felt the boy's hand reaching for hers. When she opened her eyes, she found him gazing intently at her.

"You're forgetting about me," He said, it took her a moment to process.

"How come?"

"We're family, you and I," He leaned back on his bed, "like... like brother and sister, aren't we? Always together..."

Mel smiled, she forced it to look genuine, she didn't know why she couldn't smile for real, nor why his comment did nothing but worsen her sadness.

"Of course," She replied, then reached his shoulder for leverage and kissed his cheek lightly, "thank you, Glasses"

She let herself fall back on her mattress, and as she got under the covers, Harry mumbled with a slight trembling on his voice:

"Goodnight, Mel"

The next morning, Mel rejoiced in the fact that she wasn't the messiest early riser in the burrow.

Everyone ran up and down the stairs half-dressed, school supplies flying around the house and landing on each of their trunks.

"Mum, is Grey in his basket already?" Mel asked from the fourth floor.

"He's already downstairs!" Mrs Weasley answered from Ginny's room.

When they got inside the car, Mel noticed it was magically fixed so everything could fit neatly. They would go in their own car, she was leaning on the window to wish them safe travel.

"Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" Mrs Weasley said happily from the front seat, "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

"I should get one of these," Emily replied with a knowing smile, "maybe you can help me, Arthur?"

The man cleared his throat.

"Certainly, I could"

Mel and her mother waited until they were inside their own car, share one look and burst out laughing.

"We should get our car magically fixed!" Mel mentioned after a while, "it seems useful, don't you think?"

"Illegal as well," Her mother chuckled, "better to just look for a bigger car"

They waited for the Weasleys and Harry next to the wall, they rushed in at a quarter to eleven.

"Why are you so late?" Mel asked her friends.

"Fred and George forgot stuff, then Ginny," Ron said in a terrible mood, "I need a nap..."

"You need help with your things?" Mel asked.

"I'll go ahead and look for a compartment," Emily said, rushing over to the wall and disappearing along with Percy.

"I'll take Ginny and you three come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told them.

"Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said.

They ran, confident now that they knew they wouldn't crash so they could pass through on time.

Only that this time, they did crash.

Hedwig's cage rolled onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, people stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"

"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.

Mel stood up with difficulty, holding her bruised arm.

"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed.

"I dunno -"

Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

"We're going to miss the train," He whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself... It's gone. The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle money?"

"Oh no, oh no," Mel leaned on the wall, breathing heavily, "what is happening?"

"We can't stay here, people are staring at Hedwig," Harry grabbed her arm and guided her towards the entrance.

They walked in stunned silence until they reached the parking spot of the Ford Anglia.

Ron unlocked the trunk with a series of taps from his wand. They put the luggage back in, put Hedwig on the back seat, and got inside.

"Wait," Mel suddenly came back from her shock, looking around, "you aren't actually planning- this is not a good idea, boys"

"Check that no one's watching," said Ron, ignoring her objections.

"Okay," Harry said, then he looked back at Mel from the front seat, "it's an emergency, I'm sure they'll understand, Mel"

"No, no I don't think they will," Mel frowned, "there are about a thousand different ways we could fix this that doesn't involve stealing your parents' car, Ron"

"None of them would take us to Hogwarts on time"

"Getting there in time and getting there safely are not the same thing"

"You are very welcome to stay," Ron peered over his seat to look at her, "you want to?"

Mel sat in silence, glaring at his friend. She didn't want to do it, but they were two against one, what could she do?

"We're here already," Harry insisted, "and the street is empty, Ron"

Ron pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. They disappeared, not for real, though. Just invisible to the human eye.

"Let's go," said Ron.

As they flew up, leaving the city beneath their feet, something popped and they appeared again, in front of the whole city.

"Uh-oh," said Ron, "It's faulty -"

"I told you so!" Mel covered her face in horror, "Just fix it!"

Harry and Ron hit the button multiple times and the car vanished. Then it appeared back again.

"Hold on!" Ron yelled, and he slammed his foot on the accelerator; they shot straight into the low, woolly clouds and everything turned dull and foggy.

"Now what?" said Harry.

"We need to see the train to know what direction to go in," said Ron.

"Dip back down again - quickly-"

"They'll see us if we go back down," Mel frowned.

"You have a better idea?"

"I had one until you decided to do what you pleased"

"Stop fighting!" Ron dropped back beneath the clouds and they twisted around in their seats, squinting at the ground.

"I can see it!" Harry yelled. "Right ahead - there!"

"Due north," said Ron, checking the compass on the dashboard. "Okay, we'll just have to check on it every half hour or so - hold on"

"No need for that," Mel took her wand out of her backpack -the only bag her mum hadn't taken with her- and said, "point me!"

Her wand moved to point straight to the north, she looked up and handed her wand to Harry.

"There, that's the north"

"Where did you learn to do that?" Ron asked.

"Let me guess, Fred and George?" Harry inquired, finding his answer on her guilty smile, "At least this one is helpful..."

"All we've got to worry about now are airplanes," said Ron.

They shared a look, and burst into laughter.

"Can't be much further, can it?" Ron said tiredly, the sun had started to leave the landscape, "I think we're safe now, and we should make sure that the train is still going north. Ready for another check?"

"As you wish..."

The train was right underneath them, so Ron drove them upward again, but as he did so, the engine did an awful sound.

They exchanged nervous glances.

"It's probably just tired," said Ron. "It's never been this far before..."

"Things are going way too well," Mel insinuated, Ron glared at her.

"Don't even think about saying it."

The sound grew louder and nastier, it wasn't going to hold on for another hour.

"Not far," said Ron to the car, "not far now"

The next time they flew down, it was already night time.

"There!" Harry shouted, "Straight ahead!"

The car began to move oddly as they got closer.

"Come on," Ron said, "nearly there, come on -"

They seemed to jump up and down in the air.

"Sweet Merlin," Mel gasped, her hands clasped tightly on her seat.

"Come on," Ron put his foot down.

"Here," Harry gave back her wand hurriedly, "just in case"

Mel took it with a quivering hand, screaming in terror as the car dropped.

"Noooooo!" Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel.

The car avoided the castle's wall by mere inches, now heading straight to the ground.

"STOP! STOP!" Ron yelled, hitting the dashboard and the windshield with his wand.

"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry shouted.

They hit the tree trunk and dropped to the ground. Mel could barely protect her head from the impact but not the rest of her body, crashing against the car's door.

"Are you okay?" Harry said urgently.

"I think so," She gasped, softly touching her ribs, "I don't think anything's broken-"

"My wand," said Ron, in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand-"

Mel leaned on her seat carefully:

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

At that very moment, something hit Harry's side of the car, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof. Mel's body was thrown against the door again, hitting the same spot from moments ago.

"AGH!" She tried to hold her side, but the car was still moving aggressively.

"What's happen -?"

"The bloody tree!" Mel cried.

"Run for it!" Ron yelled, "We're done for!"

"Reverse!" Harry yelled, and the car shot backward; the tree was still trying to hit them.

"That," panted Ron, "was close. Well done, car -"

"I think I did break something now," Mel groaned, lifting up her sweater to check her ribs.

But the attack wasn't over for them, the poor Ford Anglia had had enough and without a warning, threw them out of their seats, then rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily.

"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Dad'll kill me!"

"We're already dead," Mel stayed on the ground, looking up to the sky, "That bloody tree!"

"Can you believe our luck?" said Ron at some point on her right, "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back."

She heard light steps getting closer, and soon enough Harry's figure was standing next to her.

"Come on," said Harry holding his hand out for her, "we'd better get up to the school..."

Mel grabbed it and got up with a light whimper, her ribs would certainly be bruised by the morning.

"Are you okay?" Harry examined her.

"I'm fine," Mel nodded, "just a bit worn out, that's all"

They walked to the main entrance.

"I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window. "Hey- come and look- it's the Sorting!"

"Hang on..." Harry muttered, "There's an empty chair at the staff table... Where's Snape?"

"He's gone," Mel mumbled, standing on the tips of her toes to look over the window.

"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.

"Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against Dark Arts job again!"

"Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him -"

"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you three didn't arrive on the school train."

"Oh," Mel said shortly, losing all color from her face.

"Follow me," said Snape.

They obeyed, walking away from the wonderful smell of food and to his office.

"In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing.

It was quite nasty, with death things floating inside odd liquids and poor lighting, his office was freezing cold.

"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekicks, Weasley and Dumbledore. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we?"

"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it-"

"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?"

Snape unrolled an issue of the Evening Prophet.

"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline

'FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES'.

He began to read aloud:

"Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower... at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing... Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police... Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling, "Dear, dear... his own son..."

Mel was about to reply but Harry pinched her arm and shook his head.

"I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on.

"That tree did more damage to us than we-" Ron blurted out.

"Silence!" snapped Snape again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here."

"Brilliant," Mel paced around the room, "bloody brilliant. What now? The only Dumbledore to get expelled, how embarrassing!"

The boys were silent, she kept spiraling into her own overthinking.

"And my mum'll kill me, I'll never see the light of day again- locked in my house forever- not even allowed to do magic, after all those years! Ugh, why did I listen to you? I should've stayed, send a letter, what do I bloody know? Ugh!"

"Mel," Harry caught her wrist the moment she walked next to him, "you're losing it"

She calmed down, not because she wanted to, it was just that Harry didn't let go of her hand and she didn't feel like fighting with her friend.

Ten minutes later, Snape returned with Professor McGonagall. She raised her wand the moment she entered, pointing at the empty fireplace, a warm fire appearing right away.

"Explain," she said, her glasses glinting ominously.

Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through.

"-so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train."

"Why didn't you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

Harry gaped at her. He also avoided Mel's intense stare at all costs.

"I - I didn't think -"

"That," said Professor McGonagall, "is obvious."

Mel wasn't talking, she wasn't even trying to defend her case, she knew it was a lost cause. Things only got worse when Dumbledore entered moments after. Her stomach dropped and her whole face went red, she wanted to have a silver button she could press so she could disappear away from his disappointed expression.

"Please explain why you did this."

Mel lowered her head and stared at her shoes as Harry told the story this time.

"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron.

Mel closed her eyes tightly, holding her breath.

"Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But I must impress upon you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."

Mel looked up without blinking.

"Professor Dumbledore," Snape said in a thin voice, "the children have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree - surely acts of this nature -"

"It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys' punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility. I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample-"

He gave a last, meaningful look at Mel before disappearing.

Snape glared at them before leaving them alone with Professor McGonagall.

"You'd better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you're bleeding."

"Not much," said Ron, hastily wiping the cut over his eye with his sleeve. "Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted -"

"The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good," said Ron.

"And speaking of Gryffindor -" Professor McGonagall said, Harry cut in:

"Professor, when we took the car, term hadn't started, so- so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it - should it?" he finished, watching her anxiously.

Mel looked at her teacher expectantly.

"I will not take any points from Gryffindor," she said, and Mel felt her shoulders a bit lighter, "But you will get a detention."

"Brilliant," Mel mumbled, defeated, "thank you, Professor"

Professor McGonagall raised her wand again and pointed it at Snape's desk. A large plate of sandwiches, three silver goblets, and a jug of iced pumpkin juice appeared.

"You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitories," she said. "I must also return to the feast."

When the door closed, Ron let out a long whistle.

"I thought we'd had it," he said, grabbing a sandwich.

"So did I," said Harry, taking one, too.

"I can't believe you two are my best friends," She snapped, grabbing a sandwich as well and eating half of it in one bite, "we ha' no choice, huh? Lies!"

"Can you believe our luck, though?" said Ron thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. "Fred and George must've flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw them. Why couldn't we get through the barrier?"

Harry shrugged.

"We'll have to watch our step from now on, though," he said, taking a swig of pumpkin juice. "Wish we could've gone up to the feast..."

"We woul' cause a scene," Mel swallowed the food, "look at us, we look worse than stray dogs"

"She didn't want us showing off," added Ron. "Doesn't want people to think it's clever, arriving by flying car."

"I tol' you," Mel had taken another sandwich and was devouring it as well, "you shoul' lissen to me mor'-"

"Now you're sounding like Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes, "sorry, alright?"

Mel was too hungry and tired to argue.

Once they finished eating, they walked back to their tower, sleepy and full.

"Password?" The fat lady said as they approached.

"Er -" said Harry.

"We didn't ask," Mel groaned, passing a hand over her face in frustration.

"There you are! Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors - someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car"

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"You're not telling me you did fly here?" said Hermione.

"Skip the lecture, Mel already took care of that part," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's 'wattlebird,"' said Hermione, "but that's not the point-"

The students pulled them inside in confusion and loud clapping.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years-"

"Good for you," said a fifth-year to Harry.

"Were you scared?" Katie Bell asked her with wide eyes.

Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?"

"So is this what you meant when you said you were going to cause your own mischief?" Asked Fred.

Ron and Harry looked at her with the same outraged expression.

"No!" Mel said, blushing deeply, "I did not plan this!"

"Come on!" Fred exclaimed.

"Percy's coming!" Harry mumbled, grabbing her arm and dragging her towards the stairs.

"No time to talk- we're really tired," She said loudly, then added in a whisper, "besides, I think I do have a broken rib..."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@vampiregirl1797  @tiphareth2018  @siriuslysirius1107  @celestialhayi @omiwashere @mikariell95 @thesuitelifeofafangirl

[things2mustdo]

Understanding shit tests is important.  Real important.  Not just for navigating your relationships with women, but also for understanding, defining and defending yourself.

Don’t believe me?  Then why did God chronicle the world’s first shit-test in chapter 3 of Genesis, immediately after the trifling matter of the Creation of Heaven and Earth? Before any discussion about, say, the purpose of life, the nature of God or the path to freedom, God sits us down and says, “Okay men, this is how it is. Listen up.”

And yet here we are, eleventy bazillion years later having to relearn the lessons of this primordial story of man vs. woman.  Be of good cheer though. The story is short and the lessons are vivid.

The first shit test

Let’s set the stage:

The serpent was the shrewdest of all the wild animals the Lord God had made.  One day he asked the woman, “Did God really say you must not eat the fruit from any of the trees in the garden?”

“Of course we may eat fruit from the trees in the garden,” the woman replied.  “It’s only the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden that we are not allowed to eat.  God said, ‘You must not eat it or even touch it; if you do, you will die.’”

“You won’t die!” the serpent replied to the woman.  “God knows that your eyes will be opened as soon as you eat it, and you will be like God, knowing both good and evil.”

The woman was convinced.  She saw that the tree was beautiful and its fruit looked delicious, and she wanted the wisdom it would give her.  So she took some of the fruit and ate it.  Then she gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it, too.  At that moment their eyes were opened, and they suddenly felt shame at their nakedness.  Genesis 3, NLT

So what is the shit test?  Simply this: Should Adam take the fruit to please Eve and maintain his relationship with her?  Or should he tell her, ‘Shut up.  Walk away from the talking snake and go back to the tent. I want to be fruitful with you.’

Lesson #1

– this crap isn’t new

God’s response to Eve’s disobedient shit-test is rather enlightening:

“And you will desire to control your husband, but he will rule over you.”

In other words, this tension, this conflict between men and women that we deal with constantly goes back to the very beginning.  First-wave feminists didn’t create it.  Second or third-wave feminists didn’t create it either.  All they’re doing is coming together collectively to do what they can’t do individually – control men.

Feminists will tell you that feminism is all about equality.  ‘Equality’ is a lie.  As it ever was, their desire as women is to rule over you.  Period.

Now fast-forward a couple thousand – or million – years.  Because women haven’t changed, the same admonition is given:

“…you wives must accept the authority of your husbands. For instance, Sarah obeyed her husband, Abraham, and called him her master. You are her daughters when you do what is right without fear of what your husbands might do.”  1 Peter 3

Now, women wouldn’t be told to submit to men if they weren’t capable of it.  That would just be mean.  But even well-meaning women quite naturally fear what their man would do with his authority if she actually did submit to him.  Letting go, trusting another human being, is hard.  Humans mostly suck.  I get it.  And feminism is always there to stir this fear and distrust.

Managing this age-old conflict requires us to acknowledge their fears and to manifest a solid, trustworthy – if playfully unpredictable – masculinity.

Lesson #2 – Be active not passive

Adam’s punishment is:

“Since you listened to your wife and ate from the tree whose fruit I commanded you not to eat, the ground is cursed because of you.  All your life you will struggle to scratch a living from it.”

Did you catch that?  The cause of Adam’s transgression was that he ‘listened to his wife’ and followed her into disobedience.  Happy wife, happy life my ass!

He should have grabbed the nearest shovel and chopped the serpent’s head off before admonishing his wife for her covetousness – this despite their lavish habitation!  Instead Adam passively sat there as the scene unfolded.

The lesson is simple.  Be active.  Be engaged.  And actually care about your woman.  Sure, many women will call you a bully and say you’re too controlling.  That’s fine.  If you’re in it for an actual relationship, next her.  This one can deal with the ‘serpents of life’ on her own.

Lesson #3

–Women are gullible and covetous

Women have exquisite feminine virtues based on openness and receptivity that men rightly treasure when we can find it.  Frankly, when we see it, it’s impossibly attractive and intoxicating.  But there’s a flip side to feminine virtue.

When you’re open and receptive, you’re also more easily fooled.

And it was not Adam who was deceived by Satan. The woman was deceived, and sin was the result.

And when your nature is to attract and receive, you are also more prone to materialism and covetousness as you search for validation in all the wrong places.

She saw that the tree was beautiful….and she wanted…

This is one reason – there are others – that men should lead women in relationships. It’s not to lord over them abusively or for self-gain.  It’s to provide women a safe space to express and share their feminine nature with us without being taken advantage of.

Conversely, when women call the shots in a relationships, it’s inherently exhausting and ultimately unsatisfying for both of you.  Her covetousness and gullibility will combine to dominate the purpose of the union.  She will see and want and be sold…. a bigger house… a bigger diamond…. a newer car… another expensive vacation… a fairy-tale wedding.  You know the drill.

In the end, her covetousness and gullibility will become your own.  And the things that control her will become your masters.

Lesson #4 – Lead your woman, or else..

Let’s game this out. There’s a period of time when Eve has taken the fruit but Adam hasn’t.  At this point, Adam has two choices . He can follow Eve – submitting to her – or follow God.  In the end of course, he submits to Eve.

But why did he chose Eve over God knowing it was wrong?  Because he was afraid of losing his relationship with her which he treasured, a relationship marked by unquestioned trust and pure physical and emotional intimacy. Sounds good right?

In the end though – and this is the lesson for us – by selling out his own integrity and his call to leadership, he ended up losing the very relationship he sought to protect.  In its place, he received a new relationship with Eve marked by distrust, conflict and competition.

Likewise, when we abdicate leadership, when we sell out our own integrity, we lose self-respect first, and then in turn, her respect.  And then the relationship either ends, or worse, it lingers in blue-pill hell. There is simply no acceptable alternative to men leading relationships.

Conclusion

So there it is. Nothing new is under the sun.  Women are the same as they’ve ever been.  And the tension between us is as old as humanity – baked into the heart of every man and woman.

So what do we do?  Well, what did Adam do?  He picked himself up after that colossal shit-test failure to end all shit-test failures and took the red pill.

Then the man—Adam—named his wife Eve, because she would be the mother of all who live.

In other words, he takes his authority back and moves forward the best he can, perhaps having learned a little along the way.  Oh, and he take Eve back to the tent.  And she follows.

Read More:  The 4 Important Shit Tests Rocky Balboa Passed To Win Adrian

Television and movie wives have been a staple in the fabric of American entertainment for as long as any of us can remember.  From Carol Brady to Joanna Eberhart to Skyler White, these women have influenced western culture for decades.  But as the years passed, masculine traits began to seep into their personas like a slow poison and before we knew it the on-screen traditional American Housewife was extinct.  It wasn’t long before women in the U.S. predictably followed suit.  A quick look at the steep decline over the last 60 years sheds light on this runaway train.

Leave It To Beaver

The 50s and 60s gave us June Cleaver, the gold standard of what a wife should be.  Doting, nurturing, and supportive, Mrs. Cleaver was the picture of femininity and grace. Her loyalty and deference to her protective, capable husband was the blueprint for women to emulate if they wanted a chance at a happy and fulfilling life as a domesticated homemaker.

The Cosby Show

Clair Huxtable was the TV wife of the 80s but this is where we start to see a noticeable change.  While it’s presumed that Cliff is the de facto head of household, it becomes rather clear that Mrs. Huxtable is the man of the house. When there was discourse in the family Cliff stepped in a precious few times while Claire was the judge, jury, and executioner much more often than not.  The icing on the cake was that she, of all things, was a lawyer (and we all know how happy and fulfilled female attorneys are).

King Of Queens

The late 90s and early 2000s all but put the nail in the coffin of the traditional on screen housewife by force feeding Carrie Heffernan down our collective throats.  The witty Mrs. Heffernan was a slick talking, fist pumping paralegal with a brash attitude and a short temper.  She undoubtedly wore the pants in this relationship which was evident from the very beginning.  Carrie’s only redeeming qualities were her perky tits and ample ass but weight gain quickly diminished her aesthetically pleasing figure. Surprise, surprise.

Last of a dying breed

One of the last great television/movie wives makes her first appearance in the 1976 motion picture, Rocky.  This timid but cute pet shop employee that stole Rocky’s heart is none other than Adrian Pennino, who later became who we all know as Adrian Balboa. Most of us know the Rocky story but few acknowledge the true reasons she played such an important role in his life.  One of those reasons was that she was a quality woman.

When Adrian met Rocky she was a shy, young, pretty girl with a submissive demeanor.  Best of all, she hadn’t so much as gotten in line to ride the carousel.  Yes, gentlemen, Adrian was a virgin.  Now Rocky wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but even he recognized that women like her were becoming increasingly rare so he did what any man would do and took her off the market immediately.

Adrian enthusiastically took to her role as Rocky’s girl as would any woman in love.  Aside from cooking the meat he famously tenderized with his fists, she studiously tended to his aches and pains from training, enthusiastically offered him post-training sex, and supported him when he doubted his ability to go the distance in his upcoming fight against the heavyweight champion of the world, Apollo Creed. All of this was before she became his wife. Adrian added real value to Rocky’s life because she followed his lead and seemed to be the genuine article as far as quality women go.

The other reason Adrian brought the best out of Rocky is one that is oft missed by the blue pill masses.  As innocent and rare as the future Mrs. Balboa seemed to be, let’s not forget one important factor: she was a woman.  And while every woman is unique in her own way, their operating systems are identical. That is, all women shit test! From the most chaste Madonnas to the sluttiest whores, all women are programmed to test your mettle as a man.  The reason for this is simple: if a woman is going to invest 9 months of her life carrying a man’s seed, she’s going to make damn sure that he has strong, masculine genes that will be passed on to her offspring.  As a result, her operating system kicks in and employs a series of tests to ensure that he is a worthy donor.

Now keep in mind that most of the time this is all done on a subconscious level. When a dominant alpha male gives her ‘gina tingles, she’s seldom thinking thoughts like “This man is displaying masculine traits that I want passed on to my young.  I must mate with him.”  All she knows is that she wants to be fucked stupid and her hamster is in overdrive searching for reason to justify it.  She is utterly incapable explaining her insatiable desire for all of her holes to be plundered by alpha cock but her OS is on auto pilot making sure she isn’t about to be impregnated by some spineless beta.  Concepts like “shit test” and “cock carousel” hadn’t been given actual names until recently but you can bet your salty man juice makers that they were all too prominent back in the 70s.

That said here are the 4 most important shit tests of one Adrian Balboa.

Shit Test #1: His way of life

Adrian:  “Why do you wanna fight?”

Rocky:  “Because I can’t sing or dance!”

Right off the bat she tests his manhood by challenging his lifestyle early on during their first date.  The answer Rocky gives her is brilliant because it sets the tone for the relationship.  His response tells her in no uncertain terms “Well that’s a silly question, so I’ll give a silly answer.”  He does what he wants and doesn’t feel the need to justify this to her or anyone else.  Alpha move, Stallion.  He passes her shit test with flying colors and is handsomely rewarded with her virginity.  (see: Shit Test #2)

Shit Test #2: My brother is my keeper

So now Adrian has the tingles and finds herself in Rocky’s apartment.  The slut shields are definitely up as she goes full throttle with some of the most impressive, rapid fire LMR (last-minute resistance) I’ve ever seen.  We all know that LMR is just another shit test and so did the Italian Stallion. So he summons his inner Don Juan and systematically disarms every layer of her defenses.

Adrian: “ I wanna let my brother know where I am.  I think he might be worried.”

Rocky:  “I’ll call your brother.”

<Rocky flings open the window>

Rocky:  “Yo Paulie!!!!  Your sister’s with me!!!  I’ll call ya later!!!”

Well played.  Adrian knows damn well that Paulie was probably too drunk to care about much of anything.  She’s standing by the door so she’s definitely hesitant about the situation she’s in but she’s still there.  Her hamster is out of control waiting to be satiated.  Rocky, who is completely relaxed on his couch, stays in the set.

Adrian:  “I don’t belong here.”

Rocky:  “It’s alright—you’re my guest.”

Adrian:  “I’ve never been in a man’s apartment before.”

Rocky:  “They’re all the same.” <gesturing>

This was handled beautifully with gentle, well placed sarcasm.  Her snowflaking (yes, virgins snowflake too) doesn’t phase him in the least. She’s sitting with him at this point so her defenses are weakening.  Being keenly aware of this, Rocky moves in for the kill:

Adrian:  “I don’t think I’m comfortable.  I should leave.”

<Adrian stands up>

Rocky:  “But I’m willin’ to make the best of this uncomfortable situation”

<Adrian moves to the door.  Rocky intercepts her>

Rocky:  <softly>  “Would you take off your glasses?”

Adrian:  <dumbfounded>  “What?”

Rocky:  “The glasses….please.”

<Rocky removes her glasses>

Adrian:  <timidly>  “T-Thank you.”

Rocky:  “Do me another favor?”

Adrian:  “What?”

Rocky:  “Could ya take off that hat?”

<Adrian takes off her hat and becomes rather attractive>

Rocky:  “I always knew you was pretty”

Adrian:  “Don’t tease me…”

…and she was his for the taking.  Masterful escalation by the champ. He had a clear understanding that Adrian’s introverted disposition combined with her lack of sexual experience meant he would have to gently and carefully escalate lest he scare his prey away.

The look in a woman’s eyes when LMR is destroyed

Throughout the exchange her body language quickly went from “no” to “yes”.  Even when she made an “attempt” to leave she offered little resistance when Rocky intercepted her at the door.  She wanted to be taken as all women do. As soon as she lost her hat and those horrific glasses, her deflowering was a foregone conclusion.  Adrian never stood a chance.

Shit Test #3: Apollo is bad for your health

Fast forward 6 months.  Rocky is basking in the afterglow of his new found celebrity after nearly pulling off the greatest upset in the history of boxing since Cassius Clay beat Sonny Liston in 1964. Things could not be better.  He’s got a little extra coin from his share of the purse from the Creed fight, Adrian is now his wife and pregnant with his child, and he is Philadelphia’s new favorite son.  Life is pretty damn good.

But it’s not long before the money runs dry and the Balboas fall on hard times.  Rocky’s provider instinct kicks in and tells him to get back in the ring to support his growing family.   And wouldn’t you know it, the perfect opportunity to drops into his lap when Apollo Creed challenges him to a rematch that would be worth millions.  Slam dunk, right?

Wrong.  The newly minted Mrs. Balboa forbids her husband to trade punches with the champion because she’s “worried about his long term health”.  While this is very noble of her, this is simply another shit test.  No woman in her right mind would prohibit her husband from accepting an opportunity to set the family for life financially.  Sure, Adrian pouts and protests but her hamster secretly wants Rocky to defy her and maintain his alpha status to reassure her that the decision she made to willingly accept his seed was the correct one.

Her hamster gets its wish and true to form she throws a fit (another shit test). But like the true alpha he is, Rocky stays the course. Adrian eventually comes around (as women who belong to alphas always do) and watches her husband become the new heavyweight champion of the world, forever changing their lives.

Shit Test #4: You can’t win!

The last and final shit test administered by Mrs. Balboa was the most significant because Rocky is literally risking his life having agreed to fight his most deadly opponent, Ivan Drago.  At 6’6” and 260 lbs, Drago was a lightening quick fighter with super human strength.  That strength was on full display when he killed Apollo Creed in an exhibition bout.

Drago kills Creed

Balboa and Creed became best friends when they joined forces to help Rocky regain the heavyweight title he lost to another fierce opponent, Clubber Lang.  When Apollo died in the ring at the hands of Drago, Rocky’s objective was clear:  avenge his fallen comrade.

When Adrian learns of his decision, she hits him with everything she’s got to try to talk him out of it.  She broke out the heavy artillery telling him this fight was suicide among other things.  She even tells him “You can’t win!”  Brutal. But Rocky Balboa is a true alpha and regardless of what the love of his life thought, said, or did, he knew he had to stick to his guns.  Fresh out of options, she pulls a last second power move and tells Rocky she would not be going with him to Moscow to support him ringside.  This, gentlemen, is a major league shit test.  Even the most battle-hardened Super Alpha would be hard pressed to admit that he didn’t, at the very least, reconsider his decision.  Remember, he’s been married this woman for years and truly loves her so it could not have been easy to get on that plane by himself.  But like before, Rocky stays true to his task and starts his journey alone.  And like before, Adrian rushes to his side and cheers him to victory.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaagSfBj2To

Conclusion

While it’s common knowledge amongst ROK readers that women aren’t as necessary as they once were for a man’s long term success and fulfillment, there’s no denying that a good woman has the potential to increase a man’s value as well as his quality of life.  Don’t get me wrong, banging sluts is great fun—there are plenty to go around and the abundant supply isn’t dwindling any time soon.  But when a man gets his hands on a decent woman who understands and abides by traditional sex roles, has no discernible signs of having ridden the carousel, and finds legitimate joy in pleasing him, it would be to his advantage to let her stick around for a while.  Rocky understood this and acted accordingly.

Now Adrian could certainly be a handful as we’ve seen above.  But make no mistake about the fact that she tipped the balance in her husband’s favor in the two most difficult fights of his life.  Never forget that before Adrian showed Rocky her support for his rematch against Creed, Rocky wasn’t giving it all he had during his training.  The fact that his new wife didn’t have his back visibly affected him.  Ready or not he was getting in that ring because it was what he had to do as a man. But if he continued his half-assed training, Apollo would have most assuredly ended Balboa’s career, or worse. It wasn’t until Adrian told him she wanted him to win did he train with the conviction necessary to dethrone the champion.  The same thing happened in Russia.  Rocky started his journey alone but Adrian’s physical presence gave him the extra resolve to beat Drago.

Few titles in this world are more alpha than Heavy Weight Champion of the World.  The money, fame, and status that comes along with this title is more than enough to satisfy the hypergamy of the vast majority of woman.  But regardless of title, wealth, or social standing, women will always be women and the shit tests are coming.  Count on it.  Rocky loved his Adrian but his mission came before her and it showed.  As a result, she grew more attracted to him with every shit test he passed.  Even when he risked his life by fighting Ivan Drago, Adrian couldn’t help but be more drawn to him, win or lose (Roissy Maxim #200:  Chicks dig guys willing to risk an early, gruesome death.  Expendability is a DHV).

But what if Rocky tried to justify himself when Adrian questioned his way of life or gave up trying to close the deal when she threw up that epic LMR?  And what if he backed out of the rematch against Creed or caved into her demands to throw in the towel against Drago?  Chances are he would never have had the spectacular life he was afforded as a result of failing her shit tests.  Sure, he may have been able to accomplish a few minor goals here and there but Adrian’s attraction and devotion to him would have been gravely compromised.  On the other hand he may have had a great life had he never met her.  Being a single, rich, champion prize fighter would have offered him unlimited access to the paradise of poon.  As awesome as that life would be let’s not kid ourselves here fellas—nothing feels better than having a quality woman in your corner. But if you want a quality woman you have got to be alpha because all. women. are. like. that.  Even the rarest of snowflakes like Adrian Balboa.

[stardustdaemon]

We’ll Be Okay - Final

Finally here. I would like to say in advance, I’ve been debating an addition to this story since I finished it, a few ideas on where to take it and I hope this is the ending you would’ve liked to see for this fic. That being said, thank you to everyone who has given it support and love. Big love to you all and, enjoy!!!

                       —————————————————

It had been a few years since his last big scare. It was almost hard to imagine or believe, waking up every day with a fraction more energy than the last, a little more weight on his frame.

The hardest thing to believe was the warmth of Yoongi next to him every morning, the way his face would scrunch up when the sun light that peeked through the curtains would hit his face, the drawl of his voice when he’d wake up, the petulant and almost childish way he’d draw the covers over his head almost every morning.

Being able to get out of bed every morning, energy bursting at the seams as he’d go about showering, making breakfast and getting the olders coffee ready, always black with no sugar.

He remembered the day Yoongi asked him to move in with him, a bland day sat in a café to wait out the rain.

“Hey, I was looking at apartments the other day. I found some pretty nice ones.” Yoongi had spoken the words into the rim of his cup, piquing Taehyungs interest as the younger leant forwards slightly, replying with a hum of interest.

“They’re all pretty affordable too, how about you come look at them with me? One of them has a balcony, I know you like to star gaze.” His tone was gentle, soft in a rare and intimate way that made Taehyung’s heart flutter, in a good way. He nodded, taking a sip of his smoothie.

“Yeah sure! I’d love to come round to look at the sky. A bigger place will be better too, your current apartment is really cramped.” Taehyung mused, gently biting his straw absentmindedly, eyes trained on the rain. Yoongi stayed silent for a while before huffing, leaning over to hold Taehyungs hand. The younger raised an eyebrow, nodding to let Yoongi know he was listening.

“I actually wanted you to come with me. To move with me.” The words were quiet, swept away with the noise of the door opening but Taehyung had heard it clear as day, his face flushing red as he stared at the older, face splitting into a grin as he squeezed his hand.

“I would love to!”

It took some convincing both Jin and Namjoon that he’d be okay, ended with him making a promise to message them every day and meet up once a week. Not that he minded, he knew they were only concerned.

He often felt bad, for hiding how much pain he was in over the years, in fear of bothering everyone or stopping them from something important. But now older and better, he knew none of them blamed him, for being ill or hiding it, but he also understood the importance of telling those around him. Those who loved him.

“I don’t have much on today, just a phonecall. Want to do something?” Yoongi’s voice broke through his thoughts and Taehyung nodded, taking a bite out of his apple before leaning down to kiss his boyfriends forehead. Yoongi just smiled, hooking an arm around his waist to keep him close.  They stayed that way for a while, content in the silence of each others company.

“Can we just stay in today and watch a movie? Maybe order pizza, I really want Pizza.” Taehyung mused, chucking his apple core straight into the bin, hand resting over his heart in habit. Yoongi noticed, shaking his head to himself at the tiny spike of panic.

Taehyung hadn’t had an emergency in two years, since then they’d put him on new medication that seemed to be working wonders. He still got tired quicker than everyone else, sometimes nauseous out of nowhere and rarely threw up. There were days he’d spend in bed, pale and weak but he’d be bouncing about the apartment the next day, skin golden and warm. He’d join in on the play fights with Jimin and Jungkook, sometimes accompanying Hoseok to his dance practice, surprisingly good with his body.

As Yoongi watched his boyfriend (he still couldn’t quite believe he got to call him that) potter about the kitchen, he couldn’t help but smile. He always thought Taehyung was like the sun; bright and warm, welcoming and almost homey, even when he was at his worst. But now, the man stood in front of him was brighter than the sun, shining brighter than any star he could ever see.

“If we’re not going out, do we have to get dressed?” Taehyung mused, reaching for a glass as Yoongi stood up, arms wrapping around his waist, cheek pressing to his back.

“Nah, like this is just fine.” He mumbled, relishing in the gentle vibrations of the others laugh, way his shoulders moved with each breath.

“I think that’s everything. Why do we have so much stuff Yoongi?” Taehyung called out, dropping to the floor to catch his breath, ignoring the shoe digging into his hip. Yoongi just shrugged, leaning over him, hair and necklace dangling from his frame.

“No idea, though half of this is your god damn wardrobe.” He quipped, standing straight when Tae retaliated by swiping for his pendant. After helping the younger up, Yoongi led him to the bedroom, sitting him on the bed with a concerned frown. Taehyung rolled his eyes, forcing the irritation bubbling up inside of him to settle down. Yoongi was allowed to worry, he needed to learn to accept this.

“Get some rest, you did a lot today.” Yoongi’s words were quiet as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the youngers forehead. Taehyung just nodded, shrugging his jacket off an laying down.

“You too old man, it’s late. We can unpack tomorrow.”

“So, what are we watching anyway?” Yoongi asked, opening his arms on instinct as Taehyung leant backwards, back pressed to his chest.  

“Something cheesy. I don’t care that you don’t like it, you always fall asleep anyway.” Tae answered, shoving a slice of pizza at Yoongi’s mouth, a sign to not reply.

They settled in, lit only by the light of the screen as the main character appeared in what seemed to be a montage of their morning. Yoongi just sighed, hands pressed flat to Tae’s stomach as he settled in, eyes focusing on the boy in front of him rather than the screen.

The film was boring, incredibly so and Taehyung became restless half way through, eventually sitting up with a groan, stretching his arm above his head. They switched to an action movie, this time sitting side by side, knees touching and hands linked.

Life was easy with Taehyung. And even though in one of their cupboards there was emergency drips and needles, injections and stronger medication, it didn’t scare either of them anymore. Yoongi had asked the nurses to teach him how to administer any treatment. Taehyung still had scars and marks all over his body, but they were replaced by lingering kisses and gentle touches, hard to even remember anymore. Every inch of him was saturated in love, in adoration and he was happy.

Once they’d fully realised the depths of their feelings for one another, any awkwardness faded away, opening up to a relaxed and friendly atmosphere, often described by those around them as a “love that has already been for years and years.”

It had happened too fast. One moment Taehyung was happy, bubbly, leg propped up on the sofa as him and Jimin harmonised to the song on the radio, the next we had dropped to the floor, breathing shallow and hand on his heart. He briefly remembered his name being called, an extra voice, a journey into a car then blinded by lights.

He awoke where he knew he’d be, in a hospital bed, greeted by the setting sun and Yoongi sat at his side, face tight with stress.  

“Hey.” Taehyung spoke, sitting up and ignoring the way his body ached. Yoongi smiled, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as he stood up, arms wrapping around the other. No more words were exchanged, both knew what the other was thinking, feeling.  

Once the doctor had been by, made sure Taehyung knew the signs of his limits and how to keep his energy high and given him a new prescription, he was free to leave once he felt ready. Yoongi stayed by his side, easy and going with what Taehyung said and he was grateful that he wasn’t making a fuss anymore. Grateful he didn’t feel guilty this time.  

The drive home was familiar and calm, eventually opening up to promises to protect and affirmations to stay safe.

Once their door was open, Yoongi had cracked, letting a tear fall down his face as he pulled Taehyung into a hug.

“Before I say anything, you’re not allowed to feel guilty, but, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing you in a hospital bed, the feeling that runs through me when I know what’s happened. But I also know you’ll fight it, all the way, and I’m so proud of you for that. I love you. Thank you, for letting me in.”

Now bathed in the blue light of the tv, watching Yoongi’s chest rise with his breaths, his head on Taehyung’s shoulder as he slept, Taehyung had never felt happier.

“I love you.”

[extrathordinary]

wild palms- thor odinson

thor odinson/reader

word count: 1980

story type: hella angst (sorry)

characters: female reader, thor odinson, sam wilson, and Steve rogers

trigger warning: i curse like a sailor I'm so sorry

A/N: Hi, everyone! This is my first writing piece I’ve uploaded here- I’m trying to get back into creative writing and what better way to find my way than through Marvel fanfiction. I appreciate any and all feedback! Sidenote: I did Samuel Wilson so dirty here I am so sorry. Sam deserves the WORLD and I absolutely did not give it to him in this story, but I wanted to make this as heart-wrenching as possible. Thanks for reading!

“The second time I ever saw you I learned that what I had read in books but I never had actually believed: that love and suffering are the same thing and that the value of love is the sum of what you have to pay for it and anytime you get it cheap you have cheated yourself.”

-The Wild Palms, William Faulkner

The lingering touches, the stolen smiles from across the room, the late nights staying awake talking about god knows what for hours on end; the daily “I made you coffee because you were still asleep and I know you hate everybody and everything until you’ve had caffeine and I didn’t want you to wake up angry” cups of coffee on each other’s bedsides, the delicate “you’ve got something on your face, let me get it for you” touches that are just excuses so you have a chance to finally touch each other- it’s all too much and you can’t breathe.

The rational side of your brain screams at you to lock these feelings back up and throw them to the bottom of a lake somewhere inside yourself and never acknowledge they even existed in the first place, but your brain is getting increasingly smaller by the second and pretty soon you will not be able to tell the difference between good and bad- right and wrong, and god this is wrong. But you have been holding your breath for far too long and he feels like fresh air and it’s far too painful to deny yourself breath any longer than you already have.

You realized this the third time you had acknowledged your feelings for the God of Thunder: you realized that love and the sacrifices you make for it walk hand in hand and any time you do not have anything to lose, anything to risk, you have cheated yourself of what love should be. You, yourself, have absolutely nothing to lose. You do not deserve the love- the honest to God real fucking love you crave so badly. You have too much red in your ledger for someone like him.

Your world before the Avengers was confined to the walls of the Red Room, knowing rarely of life elsewhere. You weren’t stolen from your beloved parents, you weren’t kidnapped off of the streets- you don’t have- no, you don’t get a sob story. You were selfish. The reality of the situation is that you wanted to be something better- something bigger than what your life had to offer. Your greed and pride and lust for recognition drove you over the edge of insanity; you ran off to the Red Room of your own accord at the age of twelve, naïve to the life awaiting you inside its concrete walls. Your intentions were to become the best goddamn weapon the world had ever seen, morals be damned. And you achieved your goal- you had made yourself a name by the age of nineteen; hell, you even popped up on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar, finally getting at least some of the recognition you craved. But all victories come with a cost.

Your cost rang up to be watching your parents being lowered six feet underground, murdered by the very people who made you into the monster you wished to be. No weaknesses, right? After the murder of your parents, you went spiraling. You left the Soviet organization and turned yourself into S.H.I.E.L.D. Following months and months of training, therapy, and conditioning, you were again utilized as a weapon, but this time, for the good guys- for the Avengers.

Now, here you stand, gripping your glass of water so hard it might shatter, angry with yourself for believing for even a second you deserve to love and be loved by someone so kind and so… free, for loving someone you didn’t have to settle for. Clearing your throat, you set your damn-near-forgotten drink on the kitchen counter beside you. You press your back against the cool marble of the counter. Your hands go to your face as you take a deep breath in, trying to steady yourself from the crashing waves of nausea hitting your stomach.

Heavy footsteps echo through the hallway filtering into the kitchen where you are currently situated, cuing you to stand up a little bit straighter and look a little bit happier. Thor strides into the space, carrying himself as if he had wings. That confidence, that strength he possesses is something you’ve admired about him from the moment he stepped onto the grounds of the compound from the Bifröst years ago. The world could be crashing down around him and he’d still stand tall amid the chaos. His strong stature was and is formed by his kingship over Asgard undoubtedly; if not for himself, he must be strong for his people regardless of the circumstances. He never makes himself small.

“Good morning, little dove. Has sleep been kind to you in the night?” Thor’s tired, raw voice rings through the air as he mirrors your position against the countertop opposite of you. A small smile crosses your lips as you take in his sleepy appearance. A similar smile takes its place on his.

“Yeah, um…” your eyes catch his for a fleeting moment, waves of emotion threatening to spill over. You can’t have him, (Y/N). “You could say that…” you trail off. You shift your weight to your arms as you push yourself to sit on top of the counter. “How about you, dove?” you reciprocate with more enthusiasm, poking fun at the term he used mere moments ago.

The god lets out a breathless chuckle with a shake of his head, “Sleep is always no stranger to me.”

His looks, however, betray him. The darkness surrounding his usually-bright eyes, the shallow wrinkles making a home ever-so-subtly in the contours of his face not slipping your mind.  It’s no coincidence thunderstorms paint the skies during odd hours of the night- hours in which only you are awake, or so you ignorantly presumed. They always let up before morning, of course.

You sigh, locking your eyes with the god’s.“Thor, you don’t have to hide from me-”

Your sentence is interrupted by the ding of the elevator opening just a few meters from you and the god. Neither you nor Thor move from your places, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer as you shift your attention to the pair of bodies stepping out of the elevator. You shut your eyes momentarily as your heart drops at the sight of Sam and Steve making their way towards you and Thor. How foolish of you to drift so far from your reality for even one fleeting moment.

“There she is! There’s my favorite girl.” Sam hooks his arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “How’d you sleep, sugarmama? I didn’t have the heart to wake you this morning when I got up. You just looked so peaceful and shit laying there.”

You clear your throat and plaster a smile of feigned affection on your face as you turn to look at Sam. “Just fine, thank you, babe.” Little did he know you had been fully awake as you pretended to sleep, your mind running marathons and jumping hurdles as you tried to figure out how to fucking get yourself together.

Steve’s hand makes contact with Thor’s shoulder as he laughs at something he said, Thor not paying much attention to him at all. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the interaction playing out between you and Sam, anger and jealousy and loneliness flooding his veins all at the same time. You, however, catch this- his change in demeanor. Before, the atmosphere surrounding the two of you was light and safe and now the tension is so thick between the two of you it can be cut right in half. Your eyes meet his again and you give him the saddest smile he thinks he’s ever seen and it just about sends him over the edge.

The god clears his throat and mutters a polite “excuse me” to Steve as he seemingly drags himself out of the kitchen and down the hallway, a small rumble of thunder shaking the skies; it’s faint, but it’s there and it hurts. The boys shake it off and start to discuss their post-run workout. You bite your lip and close your eyes, taking a deep breath in through your nose as all of your self control keeps you nailed to the counter. I’m sorry.

“Hey, (Y/L/N), wanna join us for the workout?” Steve’s voice snaps you out of your daze. “I promise we won’t go easy on you.”

Sam snickers, pulling at the baggy shirt hanging around your body. “C’mon, babe. Training’s always fun with the chococino...” Steve laughs at Sam’s remark as Sam wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Please don’t. You offer a small smirk, shoving your emotions further down your throat and into your stomach. “As tempting as your offer is, I think I’m going to take a rest day today, boys.”

You hop off of the kitchen counter and grab your glass of water. “Oh, okay, babe. I see how it is. I’ll just have to work for it today, then.” Sam snakes an arm around your waist once more as he speaks, pulling you in for a quick kiss shortly after. As your lips graze his, you feel like you want to vomit. Everything is suddenly too much and you feel as if you’re being hurled into the fucking Sun.

You’re quick to pull away and excuse yourself from the room only to find yourself standing in front of a bedroom door- Thor’s bedroom door. Before you can talk yourself out of what you’re about to do or calm yourself down at all, your knuckles rap one, two, three times on the hard wood of the door, the knocks seemingly deafening in the silence of the hallway.

“I am in no mood to converse at the moment, Rogers.” Thor’s gruff voice sounds through the door, muffled by the heavy wood of the door.

My god, you’re going to regret this. “It’s just me.” your voice comes out shakier than you had hoped it would.

Silence. There’s silence, but just for a moment. On the other side of the door, Thor has his head in his hands, gripping and pulling at his hair hoping to make himself just fucking snap out of it. He can’t have you. You. You. You. No. Thunder cracks and crashes against the sky outside. The best of him left as soon as Sam touched you.

You flinch at the sound, cursing your feet for bringing you where you obviously aren’t wanted. Your eyes fly shut. A shaky breath escapes your lungs as the doorknob twists with a creak. The door opens and Thor is met with your terrified expression. You’re not terrified of him, god no. You’re terrified of how you and he are going to get through this because you know damn well he feels the same way you do and you know damn well he’s just as scared.

“Oh, my love, come here.” Thor gently pulls you into him as he closes the door behind you, hiding the two of you from the whirring cameras lining the hallway.

You press your forehead into Thor’s chest, your hands going to his hips. One of his hands is solid on your back, the other weaving its way in your hair, holding you against him. Thor’s eyes flutter shut as he tries to memorize the feel of your body pressed against his, praying to all the gods above he gets to do this every day. How the hell is this so wrong?

“What are we doing here, Thor?” your voice breaks, loneliness and longing seeping through. Just like you hoped it wouldn’t.

“I don’t know, little one.” He tucks his chin on top of your head. “I don’t know.” The god presses a kiss to the crown of your head, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, silently saying “this is where your crown should be sitting, my queen”.

[lowkeyorloki]

She Shall Have

A multi-chapter fic- Chapter Three

chapter one

chapter two

if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know ;)

taglist is under the “keep reading” line 

~

“You look different.” had been the first thing Loki said to you.

It wasn’t an explanation for why he had spoken up in the throne room. It wasn’t a question of whether or not you knew how to ride a horse far enough to the practice grounds. It wasn’t an insult, and certainly not a compliment.

Loki’s words were simply an observation- one that showed he noticed you, or at least how you looked, enough.

Just enough.

He was right, of course (all these years you had lived in the palace, you still had yet to see Loki be wrong). (Though perhaps it was because he rarely spoke?) .(Or because he only spoke when he was sure of what he was saying?). 

It didn’t matter. He was right, you did look different, particularly to someone who didn’t see you often: Your face had been scrubbed of the reds Alva routinely adorned your cheeks and lips with, your eyes weren’t drawn to look bigger, your hair lay in a floppy bun you had done yourself instead of an elaborate crown of braids. The most startling, though, was most likely your attire. Gone were the dresses with too many ribbons and too much lace; instead, you wore a shirt cinched at the waist with loose, long sleeves, and black pants to go with it.

You had felt comfortable in this when you had set out for the stables after breakfast. Alva, of course, gave you a look that spoke its disapproval for itself, but she always did of late. You were in your element. This was how it had been before the princes and the hammers and the palace. This was who you were, not a princess, but a commoner with a flair for adventure.

But now, standing in front of Loki, you began to feel exposed. As if you weren’t enough like him to earn his attention. As if...

As if you weren’t beautiful enough too.

You blink a few times, remembering the prince most likely wanted a response.

“Yes.” you agree. “This is what I wore when I learned how use knives, and ride horses...” you hoisted yourself up onto the saddle. Loki appeared suddenly next to you instead of his own horse.

“Careful.” he said, a smile in his voice but not quite yet his face. You wobbled a bit, and felt Loki’s fingertips touch your knee ever so slightly as he steadied you. He met your eyes with a soft gaze, holding it.

“Anyway.” you said, prompting him to return to his steed. “This is y/n, the warrior, not y/n, the princess.”

“Have you ever considered you could be both?” Loki rides up next to you, his foot almost touching your own. 

“What?” you ask, bewildered.

“I said, haven’t you ever considered you could be both?” he continues staring at you.

“I...” you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I haven’t really, no.” Loki clicks his tongue.

“That’s a shame.” Loki urges his horse forward, turning over his shoulder to yell, “If anyone can be it’s you!”

~

“What do you know about archery?” Loki asks as soon as the horses have been situated under a tree. You look out across the vast field, taking note of how no one was around for miles.

No one except Loki, that was. 

“Nothing.” you admit. “Just that it takes more strength than people usually think.”

“...And more concentration.” Loki nods. “Well, you already know more than most.” he drops the pouch of arrows, coming close behind you and pointing at a target over your shoulder. “This will be your target. This will be your bow.” he hands you a beautifully carved bow, then steps aside. “First, draw one arm up to your...”

And so went the next two hours. Constant trying to hit a target that seemed to be moving further and further away. You had spent the first half hour alone trying to get the arrow to stay against the bow.

“This is hopeless.” you finally say, the bright sun and feeling of defeat finally getting to you. “I think we should go. It’s been long enough; especially for a first lesson.”

“Please.” Loki raises an eyebrow. “Did it only take you a couple hours to master the knives?”

“Maybe I had a better teacher.” you say without thinking. You regret your words instantly, bringing a cramped hand up to cover your mouth.

Loki laughs, uncrossing his arms and stepping in close.

“You have spirit, sweet girl.” the sudden nickname makes your stomach drop, your mouth so dry you aren’t sure what to say. “It’s nice to know the family hasn’t beaten it out of you.”

Loki brings a hand to your shoulder, pressing it down before his hand glides across your bicep.

“Relax.” he murmurs, his breath on your neck. “You’re much too high strung... let your arm be looser... look at your target.”

You can practically feel the air leave your body when Loki lays his other palm on your stomach, meeting your eyes and letting his hand lay flat.

“Breathe.” he tells you. You don’t say anything, you don’t move one bit. You just stare back into Loki’s eyes, completely unaware of what you should do. His touch feels like ice and fire all at once, your mind running to Loki’s thumb, closest to your breasts, and his little finger, closest to your..  “I said breathe.” he repeats. He was smirking.

You feel your cheeks redden, and let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“There you go.” Loki nods. “Now release.”

Eyes on Loki, you allow the string of the bow to leave your fingers. Had Loki not said anything, you would have forgotten to check and see if you were successful.

“Good job.” Loki sounds sincere. “I’ve never seen anyone hit the target on their first day.” Loki’s eyebrow is ever so quipped as he speaks to you.

“Thank you.” you manage. “That... felt good.”

“I’m glad.” Loki glances at the sun. “It’s getting to be time to head back. I’ll gather the tools if you ready the horses.”

After that, Loki doesn’t say or look at you for the rest of the ride. He doesn’t acknowledge you at dinner, except to inform Odin that you were “a fast learner” and an “ideal pupil”. He skips the reading session you’ve come to expect in the library.

You fall asleep when your head hits the pillow. Alva comments that a day out in the sun would do this to you, but you know this is going to be the type of tired sleep can’t fix. 

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