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Chapter Text

Anti-Wanda hummed to herself as she floated around the kitchen, making a mid-afternoon snack. As she rooted through the refrigerator, a half-finished sandwich floated behind her. 

Anti-Wanda didn’t notice when a dark poof appeared behind her, too busy looking for the ketchup to complete her snack. 

The Anti-fairy hastily looked around, afraid of spotting Anti-Cosmo in the kitchen. Seeing nothing, he smiled and conjured up a bouquet of dead daisies. Anti-Wanda, having decided to add horseradish instead, turned and spotted the Anti-fairy. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Anti-Juandissimo? Whatcha doin’ here?”

Anti-Juandissimo, aside from his red eyes, looked just like Juandissimo, from the muscles to the ponytailed hair. Despite this, he was somehow unsexy. He also lacked his counterpart’s ability to be suave and charming. Waving nervously at his ex-girlfriend, he thrust the flowers out to her. “Hi, Anti-Wanda. Um…I just wanted to see if you…. you know, wanna go out sometime?”

This last part was muttered so quietly, Anti-Wanda didn’t hear it. She didn’t need to though; she already knew what he wanted from her. She might be stupid, but she was pretty good at knowing when she was being flirted with. He’d been trying to get back with her since they’d broken up in high school. While Anti-Juandissimo never flirted with her when Anti-Cosmo was around, he valued his life far too much to even attempt it, he did stare longingly at her. A lot. If he saw her when she was out in Anti-Fairy World by herself, he tended to find her and flirt with her.

She scowled at him and crossed her arms. “Ya know I ain’t gonna date ya. Why do ya keep comin’ back and askin’ again and again? How many times I gotta tell ya I’m married?”

Anti-Juandissimo looked at her desperately. “I just miss you. Please go out with me. We’d have fun, like we used to.”

Anti-Wanda shook her head, annoyed at her ex-boyfriend. “I’m married, ta Anti-Cosmo! I’m not datin’ ya! I don’t like ya anymore!”

“I liked you before he did!” Anti-Juandissimo argued. Caught up in their argument, neither anti-fairy noticed a figure hovering in the doorway.

***

Foop had been in the library all day, drawing up a variety of plots to destroy Poof. His father had been with him, scribbling away at his own paperwork, before leaving for a meeting with Anti-Cupid. Shortly after he left, Foop realized that his bottle, which he had been sucking at for some time, was nearly empty. This posed a problem for him; only an adult Anti-Fairy wand could refill his bottle, both with magic and milk. This rule was created after he’d drained the Anti-Big wand on his quest to destroy Poof; no one but him seemed to think this was unfair. 

And with his father gone to his meeting, his mother would need to do it for him. 

Guessing she was in the kitchen, he lazily floated in that direction, still contemplating his latest plan for Poof. He was jerked out of his thoughts by his mother’s voice, which actually sounded irritated. She was arguing with an accented male voice, which was much lower than his father’s! Curious, he floated to the doorway and peeked inside. An anti-fairy with black hair and bulging muscles, but who was somehow unsexy, was pleading with his mother, who had her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed in frustration. 

“I liked you before he did! You only married him because you had too! You belong with me, not him!” The male grabbed one of her hands, forcing her to uncross her arms. “Just one date, please!”

Anti-Wanda tried tugging her hand away. “No! I broke up with ya cause ya bugged me! Yer still buggin’ me now. I love my husband, so lemme alone, ya hear?”

Gripping his bottle tightly, Foop scowled. This…this little pest was trying to steal his mother away! How dare he! That was his mother! He had no right to take her away, she was his! If she left, who would distract his father while he snuck into the room where Anti-Cosmo kept his laser? Who would change his nappy and refill his ba-ba? Who would play with him on the Teeter Totter of Terror? Who would feed him?!? Glaring as threateningly as he could, Foop used his bottle to send a bolt of lightning at the intruder.

Continuing to argue, both adult Anti-fairies had completely forgotten that anyone else was in the castle. Both of them jumped in surprise when a bolt of lightning suddenly appeared, zapping Anti-Juandissimo into ashes. Whirling around, Anti-Wanda fully expected to see her husband, snarling in the way he reserved exclusively for her ex-boyfriend. To her surprise, it wasn’t Anti-Cosmo scowling, but Foop instead. “Foop!”

Foop looked at the two of them, trying to scowl like his father did. Anti-Wanda looked delighted to see him, completely disregarding the sooty figure behind her. 

Dusting himself off, Anti-Juandissimo glanced at the baby warily. He’d forgotten that Anti-Wanda had a son, but he wasn’t sure if he should be worried or not. On one hand, this baby had just electrocuted him and looked like he would happily do so again; on the other hand, he was just a baby and he’d only electrocuted him. Last time he’d been caught near Anti-Wanda, Anti-Cosmo had poofed him into Jorgen von Strangle’s office. Anti-Juandissimo shuddered at the memory; compared to that, lightning was nothing. 

He was just a baby, Anti-Juandissimo decided firmly, how much of a threat could he be?

“Who are you and how did you get in the castle?” Foop demanded, eyes narrowed in thought. “Answer or perish!” He waved his bottle threateningly again.

Anti-Juandissimo flinched. He was pretty intimidating, for a baby. “Uh…I’m Anti-Juandissimo. I…um…I used to date Anti-Wanda. I just wanted to see her again, don’t kill me!” He shrieked, ducking when Foop pointed his bottle at him again.

Foop blinked in confusion before turning to his mother for clarification. “Wait a second. You mean to say that you weren’t always married to Father? You used to date him?!” He gestured to the other male with his bottle, ignoring the flinch this action caused. 

Anti-Wanda nodded dopily. “Yep! I didn’t start goin’ with yer daddy ‘til after we,” she scowled at Anti-Juandissimo, “broke up in high school.” 

Foop frowned in thought. It was inconceivable to him that his parents hadn’t always been together. It was like picturing his father without his monocle, or his mother without her swirly hairstyle. He just couldn’t do it. He especially couldn’t picture his mother being together with Anti-Juandissimo, that was just so...so wrong! 

While Foop was distracted, Anti-Juandissimo decided to try again. “These are for you, Anti-Wanda.” He handed her the dead flowers, nervously rubbing his hands together. “Just one date? Please?”

Anti-Wanda didn’t have time to do anything but frown at him before another bolt of lightning zapped him. “Leave Mother alone! You can’t have her; she belongs with Father and I.” Foop yelled, glaring at the older male in a manner eerily similar to Anti-Cosmo. “Since you refuse to leave, I’ll just have to get rid of you myself. Prepare for your doom!” Cackling, the baby waved his bottle in the direction of Anti-Juandissimo. Anti-Juandissimo yelped, flinching in anticipation of more lightning. 

Nothing happened. 

Cracking his eyes open, Anti-Juandissimo saw Foop waving his bottle around and pouting angrily. “Drat! My ba-ba is empty!” He looked towards his mother, who was still floating by the fridge. While Foop had been yelling and striking her ex with lightning, Anti-Wanda had finished her sandwich and was now munching on it contentedly, watching Foop and Anti-Juandissimo while she ate. 

“Mother, I demand a refill!” Foop waved his bottle towards her impatiently. To his complete surprise, his bottle was refilled before his mother had even raised her wand. Before he could ponder that, a cool British voice suddenly spoke from behind him, causing everyone in the kitchen to jump in surprise.

“So sorry to break up this cozy little gathering.” Anti-Cosmo lazily floated out from behind Foop, his wand clenched in his fist. His eyes were fixed with loathing upon Anti-Juandissimo, who was rapidly paling. “Anti-Juandissimo, I thought I made it clear that you were to stay away from my wife.” Anti-Cosmo remarked, gently tapping his wand on the palm of his left hand, looking menacing and relaxed at the same time. 

Foop stared at his father with admiring eyes. If only he could look as intimidating and powerful as that! Maybe his father could teach him how to glare like that. Oh, he’d be so frightening to all the other kids in Spellementary School! They’d think twice about crossing him! 

Anti-Juandissimo looked on the verge of passing out. Opening his mouth a few times without saying anything, he stared at Anti-Cosmo with wide, frightened eyes before whipping out his wand and poofing himself away in a black cloud with the word Coward! written inside. 

Foop scoffed at the cloud. Such a pathetic creature! No wonder Mother preferred Father. Before he could pursue that any farther, he was being squeezed hard from behind. 

“D’aww! Foop, yer so sweet! Thanks for tryina get rid of ‘im ‘fore yer daddy showed up!” His mother hugged him tighter, ignoring his attempts to free himself in favor of crooning over him. 

“Release me at once! I only came to get my ba-ba refilled! I couldn’t care less if he was here! And I wasn’t being sweet, I blasted him with lightning! TWICE! Lightning isn’t sweet! Release me, woman!” 

Behind them, momentarily forgotten, Anti-Cosmo observed them with a small, fond smile on his face. Despite his protests, Foop was clearly uncomfortable with Anti-Juandissimo flirting with his mother. If he wasn’t, he would have gotten his bottle filled and left, not stayed and demanded Anti-Juandissimo leave his mother alone. Well, his son certainly deserved a reward for blasting that idiot like he had. Perhaps he’d let him play with his laser for a short time…

Chapter Text

Foop floated on his back above a chair in his father’s library, holding a picture book over his head. Earlier, his father had been teaching him how to read using some of his mother’s picture books. Despite his ability to talk in full sentences, Foop didn’t know how to read or write yet. He was only a baby after all.

Anyway, his father had floated off a while ago, leaving him to peruse the books at his leisure. He wasn’t really reading anymore, just looking at the pictures and picking out words he knew. He was currently reading about a witch whose house was made of candy. 

“Foolish mortals.” He whispered to himself, staring transfixed at a picture of two children gorging themselves on her candy house. “Maybe she’s poisoned the candy, that would teach them not to eat her house!” Foop flipped the page, eager to see the children be punished for eating the witch’s house.

“She’s letting them inside? After they ate her house? What kind of witch is she?” 

Absorbed in the book, he didn’t notice when his mother drifted into the library. Floating over to her son, Anti-Wanda’s eyes lit up when she saw what he was reading. “I’ve read this book! She eats them kids at the end.” Startled, Foop screamed and let go of the book, which fell on his face. 

Grumbling, he moved the book and sat up. “Did you have a reason for disturbing my reading, Mother?”

Anti-Wanda nodded rapidly. “Yup! It’s time for yer bath!”

Foop’s eyes widened and he paled. “No!” He snatched up his bottle from the chair. “You can’t make me!” 

Anti-Wanda frowned hard. “Don’t ya be a scaredy cat! It’s just a bath. It don’t take long and then I’ll read ya another book before bed!”

“No!” Foop teleported himself away from her in a cloud with the word Panic! written inside. He was so desperate to get away, he hardly noticed where he’d poofed himself. 

It was a dark room full of bookshelves, maps of Anti-Fairy and Fairy world, and file cabinets. At the center of the room was a polished black desk. He was in his father’s study. This would have been fine, but unfortunately for Foop, his father was there as well. 

Anti-Cosmo was seated at his desk, a huge stack of papers before him. He looked as surprised to see Foop as Foop was to see him. “Foop. Did you need my assistance with something?” The older Anti-Fairy put his pen down and stretched his cramped fingers, floating up from his seat.

Foop didn’t have an excuse ready, at least not one that would fool his father. He hadn’t expected the man to be in his study. Really, a voice in his head scoffed, where did you think he would be? “Uh…I was just wondering where you were, Father. You see, I’ve finished Mother’s books and was hoping you would lend me some more challenging ones.” Foop widened his eyes innocently, hoping beyond hope that his father didn't know it was his bath night.

That’s the best lie the child came up with? Anti-Cosmo smirked inwardly. Out loud, he asked “Why didn’t you just get a book from the library? You were already in there; the library is open to both you and your mother. Nothing’s off limits there.” 

While Foop was in Abracatraz, he’d carefully gone through his library and removed any dangerous or troublesome material, locking it away in his study. Neither Foop nor Anti-Wanda could access the books, since the lock was tied to his fingerprint. Foop didn’t need to know that, though.

Foop shrugged, attempting to look inconspicuous. “I wanted to be certain I had your permission to do so, Father.” Foop never bothered with permission before and both of them knew it. Anti-Cosmo’s eyes narrowed. 

“What are you up to, child?”

Foop waved his hand. “Nothing that concerns you.”

A loud yell echoed through the halls and into the study. “FOOP!”

Foop blanched. “Well, I’d best be off now. Lots of things to read, so little time to do it. Ta-ta!” He poofed himself away before his father could react.

The little brat was up to something. Or he’d done something, and Anti-Wanda was after him.

Anti-Cosmo glanced at his paperwork, thinking hard. The papers were vital for imports into Anti-Fairy World, but his wife sounded particularly upset with their son. He sighed and reached for his wand. The papers would always be there later.

***

Foop flew through the castle at mach 1, hearing Anti-Wanda crashing into walls behind him. Curse his baby wings! They were no match for his mother’s fully developed ones, which allowed her to stay right behind him. 

“Get back here! Ya need a bath!” She hollered at him, a scowl on her face. Darn kid, he was just out of her reach!

Foop glanced behind him and yelped. His mother looked mad! “I don’t need a bath! I’m perfectly clean, I didn’t even get crumbs on me during dinner! Leave me alone!”

“We do this every few days! I’m gettin’ sick o’ it! Just be good and take yer bath for once!” 

“Never!”

Speeding around the corner like a bullet, Foop shrieked in sudden surprise. His father was floating in the middle of the hallway, directly in his path! Unable to stop himself, he smashed into him headfirst, the force of the impact sending both males tumbling through the air. Before either of them could right themselves, Anti-Wanda rounded the corner and barreled straight into them, banshee screeching as she did. The Anti-Cosma’s fell to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs and wings, each struggling to get free before the others did. 

Foop had managed to free most of himself from under his mother when a hand clamped around his ankle. Grumbling to himself, he tried to pull free with little success, it was like his foot was caught in an iron shackle. Anti-Wanda rolled off of the two beneath her, shaking her head a little to get rid of her disorientation. Anti-Cosmo had gotten the worst of it; his monocle was on the ground next to him, his hat no longer rested above his head, and he’d been squashed under his wife and child. 

Without his mother on top of him, Foop turned around, expecting to see her holding his foot. It wasn’t her; it was Anti-Cosmo. Foop winced at the scowl on his father’s face, still intimidating despite the lack of monocle. Where was his bottle? If he could reach that, he could free himself! 

Ah ha! It was next to his father’s foot. He reached for it, stretching as far as he could. His fingers grazed the bottom of it…a little closer…almost there…

A blue hand grabbed him. “Nuh uh! None of that, ya’ve caused enough trouble tonight! Ya ain’t gettin’ away from me now!” Anti-Wanda hoisted him into the air by his hand (of course his father chose now to let go of his ankle) and pinned his arms to his sides. 

Foop growled and thrashed in her grip, trying to get loose. “I keep telling you, woman, I don’t need a bath! I’m perfectly clean, a bath is unnecessary!”

“Listen to your mother, Foop.” Anti-Cosmo had replaced his monocle on his cheek and floated over to the pair, arms crossed over his chest. “Baths are a necessary part of life and after the trouble you’ve given us tonight, you certainly deserve to get one.”

“It ain’t gonna be so bad. I’ll even let ya play with some bath toys while Imma washin’ yer hair.” Now that she wasn’t chasing him, Anti-Wanda was back to her normal cheery self. In her arms, Foop pouted. Not even the promise of toys in the bath could make the idea of bathing appealing to him. 

Anti-Cosmo poofed the three of them into the bathroom. The sink was already full of tepid water, a bottle of baby shampoo and a towel floating next to it. Foop allowed himself to be undressed and placed in the water without much struggle. Without his bottle, he couldn’t poof himself away; he couldn’t do much anyway, with his father hovering near the door, keeping a sharp eye on him.

Anti-Wanda hummed as she scrubbed his scalp, using one hand to shield his eyes from the suds. Her baby was so cute, pouting at the bubbles like that. She rinsed the soap from his hair and turned to her husband. “Can ya dry ‘im off while I get ‘im some jammies?”

Without waiting for a response, she teleported herself away. Using his wand, Anti-Cosmo poofed him into a towel and used magic to drain the sink. “That wasn’t really so terrible, was it child?” He muttered, tucking his wand away and reaching for his scantily clad son. He carefully rubbed Foop dry, smiling a little at his grumbles. 

“Bathing is idiotic.” Foop mumbled, leaning into his father despite himself. “I didn’t need one anyhow.”

“Hush now.” Anti-Cosmo shushed, lifting Foop into his arms and poofing them into his nursery. 

Anti-Wanda had pulled out all of his clothes and was holding up a pair of black footie pajamas with a blue star on them when they appeared. “C’mere Foop! Let’s getcha all ready for bed!”

Anti-Cosmo handed their child to her, watching them through softened green eyes. A small smile played on his lips as a newly dressed Foop allowed Anti-Wanda to cuddle him. The chase seemed to have tired him out, it would be easy to get him to bed tonight for once. 

Anti-Wanda floated closer to him and held out a picture book for him, one arm still wrapped around Foop. Foop was blinking every few seconds, struggling to stay awake longer while simultaneously snuggling deeper into Anti-Wanda’s neck. 

Anti-Cosmo took the book and began to read while glancing at Foop every few seconds. Foop’s eyes fluttered shut, small puffs of breath stirring some strands of hair that had escaped Anti-Wanda’s bun during the chase. He looked almost angelic when he was asleep. 

 For all that Foop was obnoxious and difficult, neither of his parents would have traded him for anything. Not even universal domination.

Chapter Text

Anti-Wanda hovered in front of her vanity in the room she shared with her husband, experimentally pulling her hair back in a ponytail. Deciding against it, she reached for her brush and pulled it through her hair, humming contentedly as she did so. Maybe she should leave her hair down tonight; she hated having her hair in her face, but Anti-Cosmo really liked it loose and free. 

Anti-Wanda smiled at her reflection. Her hair hung down her back in loose curls, nearly obscuring her black earrings, her teeth shone bright and clear, and her makeup was fresh. She poofed herself into her dress and shoes and looked in the mirror again. “Almost looks like one of ‘em teeny runway models again. Just missin’ my fancy prison suit.” She murmured, pleased with her reflection.

“Isn’t that a lovely sight?” Anti-Wanda shrieked in alarm, whirling around to see Anti-Cosmo hovering in the doorway. 

He floated over, a smirk on his face. “So sorry, poppet. Didn’t mean to alarm you.”

Anti-Wanda glared at him. “Well ya did. Dunno how ya can be so quiet and sneaky.”

Anti-Cosmo snaked an arm around her waist and pecked her on the cheek. “You look quite beautiful, dear.”

Anti-Wanda blushed and quickly gave him a shove. “Ya gotta get cleaned up, no sweet talkin’ now. Nearly time ta get movin’.” 

“I’ll try to resist, my evil little crumpet.” Anti-Cosmo winked at her, pleased when her blush deepened. The look she shot him before poofing herself away was ruined by the smile on her face.

***

A dark cloud appeared over the kitchen table, revealing Foop, who was wearing his Spellementary uniform and a dark scowl. “Stupid fairy woman…always tricking me with her ‘Foop spelled backwards’…totally deserved that spider I planted in her desk…” he grumbled to himself, fists clenched at his sides. 

Mumbling to himself, he drifted into the kitchen, fully expecting to see his mother. Anti-Wanda always had a snack ready for him when he returned home after school and she was always willing to listen to him rant about his day while he ate it. Despite her dimwittedness, his mother was very good at listening to him whenever he ranted about something. Perhaps it was a skill she’d developed from being married to his father. 

Floating into the kitchen, Foop’s train of thought vanished when he saw his mother carefully levitating a covered dish into the refrigerator. Instead of her normal t-shirt and jeans, Anti-Wanda wore a knee-length black cocktail dress, black heels, and a strand of black pearls. Her hair swirled around her shoulders instead of neatly arranged in her usual updo. Foop blinked, surprised by how elegant his scatterbrained mother looked. 

“Are you going somewhere, Mother?”

Anti-Wanda finished levitating the dish and slammed the door shut. “Hiya Foop! How’s school, baby?” She poofed up a plate of cat-shaped crackers and beamed at him. “Here’s yer snack!”

Foop frowned as he took the plate. “School was as remedial as always. My teacher is an ignorant buffoon who insists upon favoring that idiot, Poof, over me.” He nibbled on a cracker thoughtfully. Inside him, his desire to rank about his day warred with his need to find out why she was dressed up. His interest in her appearance overtook his desire to rant about his day. “Why are you so dressed up? Are you going somewhere?”

Anti-Wanda grinned happily. “Yup! Yer daddy’s takin’ me out for dinner cause it’s our anniversary!”

“Going out?” Foop narrowed his eyes distastefully. “Am I going too?” Being forced to dress up and watch his parents being mushy with one another wasn’t how he envisioned spending the night.

“Na, it’s just the two of us. Yer stayin’ here while we have ourselves a date.” The older Anti-Fairy clasped her hands together, happily anticipating some time alone with Anti-Cosmo and oblivious to the mischievous grin growing on Foop’s face.

A night without his parents! Foop rubbed his hands together and resisted the urge to cackle gleefully. Oh, the possibilities! He could play with his father’s laser, or steal the key to the weapons room, or explore the dungeons! Best of all, nobody would try to force him to take a bath or go to bed early! It would be the best night of his life!

Both fairies were jolted out of their thoughts by the sound organ music. Anti-Wanda clapped her hands in excitement. “She’s here! C’mon Foop!” Foop barely had time to wonder who ‘she’ was before Anti-Wanda grabbed his hand and flew towards the front door. Organ music sounded again as the doorbell was pushed a second time. Whoever was waiting outside didn’t seem to be very patient.

Reaching the main entrance, Anti-Wanda dropped his hand and threw open the door. “Hiya, Mama!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around the figure floating on the doorstep.

Mama? Was this his mother’s mother? Foop had never met his extended family before and knew very little about them. He knew his mother had a sister, his father had a brother, and that his mother’s father was alive while his father’s father was dead, but that was it. And why was his grandmother here anyway? 

The two women hugged one another tightly before Anti-Wanda ushered her inside. The Anti-fairy was a plump woman with red eyes and a towering stack of navy curls upon her head.  She wore a dark blue house dress and high heeled shoes. She was beaming at both him and his mother. 

“Mama, this here’s Foop. Foop, this is Mama Anti-Cosma.” Anti-Wanda introduced them. “She’s yer daddy’s Mama and yer Grandmama.”

“Aren’t you just precious!” Mama Anti-Cosma gushed, rushing over and grabbing him into a suffocating hug. “Please, call me Grandmama, dearie. You look so adorable! He must get that from you, Anti-Wanda. You both are just so lovely!” 

She released Foop, who immediately gasped for air. That woman hugged like a boa constrictor! He was surprised she hadn’t cracked him in two. He floated over to his mother, keeping her body between him and his grandmother’s. 

“Oh, he’s shy! He looks just like you, Anti-Wanda dear! He’ll be quite a looker as he gets older.” His grandmother gushed to his mother, who shrugged and put an arm around him.

“I think he takes after Anti-Cosmo more ‘an me. Sounds like ‘im too.” 

To Foop’s surprise, his grandmother pursed her lips and made a ‘hmph’ noise. “Speaking of my worthless son, where is he? Working on world domination again? Anti-Wanda dear, you really oughtn’t be with a man who ignores you so often.”

“Thank you for that glowing recommendation, Mummy.” A crisp British voice floated down the stairs as the subject of their conversation joined them. Anti-Cosmo wore a black suit and a blacker scowl, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at his mother, who sniffed in response. Rolling his eyes, the leader of the Anti-fairies drifted over to his wife and put his arm around her. “Thank you for coming to watch Foop, we appreciate it ever so much.”

Foop started in surprise while his grandmother snorted. “Of course I’d watch him. My favorite daughter-in-law deserves a night out after putting up with you day in and day out.” 

Foop glanced between the three adults with growing horror. His parents were going to leave him alone with her? What had he done to deserve that?! Nothing! At least, nothing that they knew of! “WAIT!”

At his exclamation, all three heads turned towards him. “You can’t just leave me here with her! I hardly know her!”

Anti-Wanda rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “She ain’t no stranger! She’s yer Grandmama! It’s gonna be fine, Foop.”

At the same time, Mama Anti-Cosma nodded in agreement. “He’s absolutely right. You really shouldn’t leave your child with someone they’ve never met before. I thought you were supposed to be a genius, Anti-Cosmo. Clearly I was mistaken.”

Anti-Cosmo pinched the bridge of his nose and silently counted to ten.

“Foop, you’ll be fine. My mother is annoying, but she’ll do you no harm. She raised me and I turned out fine, you can surely handle her for one night.” Opening his eyes, he noticed both his mother and his son were glaring at him for his remarks. Ignoring them, he clutched Anti-Wanda tighter and raised his wand. “There’s dinner in the refrigerator, have him in bed by 8, we’ll be home at 10. Don’t destroy the house. Goodnight.” Before either of them could protest, he’d poofed himself and Anti-Wanda away in a black cloud. 

Foop glowered at the spot where his father had been. Great! Not only was he not home alone, he was stuck with his annoying, smothering grandmother. Why did he always have such rotten luck?

Mama Anti-Cosma huffed in annoyance. “That son of mine. How dear Anti-Wanda puts up with him, I’ll never know.” Shaking her head, she turned to her grandson. “Well, now it’s just us dearie. Are you hungry? What would you like to do?” Before he could answer, she plowed on. “Oh, how about you help me knit something for your uncle Anti-Schnozmo? Such a good boy he is, he’s never given me half as much grief as your father did, let me tell you.”

Foop groaned as she picked him up and carried him into the living room. This night was going to kill him.

***

The restaurant was one of the nicer ones in Anti-fairy world. After ordering their food, Anti-Cosmo took her hand and led her to the dance floor, where a few other anti-fairy couples were dancing.

Holding one another close, they began to sway to the music, Anti-Cosmo leading her easily into a waltz. Anti-Wanda beamed up at her husband, flushing when he softly smiled back at her. Leaning up, she pressed a soft kiss on his lips and felt his arm tighten around her waist in response. 

Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and let him guide her around the dance floor.

“Do you…never mind.”

Raising her head, she was surprised to see Anti-Cosmo looking slightly worried. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout hun?”

He pursed his lips and for a moment it seemed like he was going to keep whatever was worrying him to himself. “Do you think Foop’s alright with my mother?”

Anti-Wanda ducked her head and smiled to herself. As much as they tried to hide it, she knew Anti-Cosmo and Foop cared for one another as much as any other father and son. “He’ll be ok. He’s with his Grandmama. ‘Sides, it’s just one night and he’s survived prison ‘fore. He’s gonna be ok.”

Thinking it over, Anti-Cosmo relaxed a little and nodded. “You may have a point there, love.”

***

His grandmother wasn’t as bad as he’d initially thought. While she knitted something black for his uncle (she claimed it was a blanket, but it just looked like a tangled mass of strings to him) she told him stories. All of which had something to do with his father in embarrassing situations. Then she’d poofed up a scrapbook and showed him pictures of his father and uncle.

The woman was a wealth of blackmail material!

Shutting the book, Mama Anti-Cosma stretched her arms out and yawned. “Alright dearie, I’m feeling a bit peckish. Shall we go see what your darling mother made for us?”

Anti-Wanda had made a pan of lasagna for them to eat. Mama Anti-Cosma peeled back the cover and poofed the dish into the oven. “I’ll warm this up for us. Get out a kettle for some tea, would you?”

Foop turned and floated to the cabinet over the sink. He pulled the kettle out and set it on the stove before rummaging through his father’s tea containers. “Grandmother, what tea would you like to drink?”

“Oh, crumpets!” She exclaimed from behind him. Foop turned around just in time to see a huge burst of fire shoot out of the oven. Screaming, he ducked out of the way just in time to avoid being fried to a crisp.

***

Anti-Wanda froze, her spoon halfway to her lips. She had a sudden urge to check on Foop, to see that he was ok. Almost like some kind of motherly instinct telling her to fly to her baby.

“Are you quite alright, darling?” 

Anti-Cosmo was staring at her, eyebrows raised inquisitively. Anti-Wanda nodded, releasing the breath she’d been holding when the strange feeling faded away. 

“Yup. Just wonderin’ what Foop and Mama are doin’.” She ate her spoonful of soup as her husband checked his watch.

“They’re probably having dinner now. I hope our son isn’t causing too many problems.”

***

A smoldering casserole dish lay on the floor, the bits of dinner inside it charred beyond recognition. Foop and his grandmother hovered over it, neither of them were hurt by the fire but they were covered in ash. The walls were scorched around them and thick smoke hung in the air. 

Mama Anti-Cosma eyed dinner distastefully. “Well, we can’t eat that now. I’ll have to knock something else up for us.”

Foop blanched at that idea, an action that went unnoticed because of the ash on his face. “That’s not necessary. I’d like to live through the night, if it’s all the same to you.” He ignored the sharp look his grandmother sent him for that comment. “Let’s order something in.”

Mama Anti-Cosma rolled her eyes. “Fine. But while we wait, you need a bath. You’re covered in soot.”

“Fine. Just as long as I’m alive to take it.”

***

At 10’o clock precisely, a dark poof appeared in the entryway, revealing both adult Anti-fairies. Anti-Cosmo had his arm around Anti-Wanda’s waist and her head was resting on his shoulder, an air of contentment surrounding both of them. The castle was dark and quiet, not a creature stirring beyond the two of them. 

Anti-Wanda lifted her head and peered around. “Where d’ya think they are?”

Anti-Cosmo yawned and readjusted his hold on her. “Hopefully, Foop’s tucked away in bed. Mummy’s probably in the sitting room, knitting some kind of abomination for my brother. Shall we go see?”

Slowly making their way into the living room, they were greeted by the sight of Mama Anti-Cosma and Foop asleep on the couch. Foop was snuggled into a large black wad of…something, while Mama Anti-Cosma’s head was slumped against her chest, knitting needles loosely clutched in her hands. 

“D’aw!” Anti-Wanda cooed softly at the sight. “He’s so cute! Where’s the camry?” Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes and poofed one up for her. Kissing him on the cheek in thanks, his wife zoomed over for a closer angle. 

The flash woke his mother but luckily Foop slept on. Foop was horribly fussy and cranky if his rest was disturbed; he was an absolute horror to wake for school every morning.

Mama Anti-Cosma yawned and laid her needles aside, blinking blearily in the dim light. “Oh, you're here. Did you have a nice time, Anti-Wanda, dear?”

“Uh huh. Thanks for watchin’ him tonight.” Anti-Wanda poofer the camera away and gently untangled Foop from the yarn. Careful not to wake him, she picked him up and cradled him close. “Imma take him ta bed now. ‘Night Mama!” Anti-Wanda poofed herself in the nursery, leaving mother and son alone.

Anti-Cosmo put his arms behind his back and glanced around the room. “Foop behaved himself tonight, I hope? There weren’t any problems, were there?” 

His mother’s back was to him as she gathered her knitting together, but he still detected a slight pause in her movements at his question.

“No, no problems. The child was an absolute delight, he must have gotten that from Anti-Wanda.” Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes, fully expecting this response. 

Having gathered the yarn, needles, and black mass in her arms, she faced him again. Was it his imagination, or did she look slightly worried about something? And what was that mark on her face?

He flew a little closer and squinted at it. It almost looked like…soot. “Why do you have soot on your face?”

His mother paled rapidly. “Oh, that’s part of my beauty regime! A little soot keeps the complexion clean and free from wrinkles, you know.” She made a show of checking her watch. “Well I really must be off now! Call me anytime, I do enjoy seeing Anti-Wanda and my grandson. Ta-ta!” Anti-Cosmo’s eyes narrowed as his mother disappeared in a cloud with the word Anxious! written inside. 

He was toying with the idea of poofing her back and demanding she tell him what had happened when Anti-Wanda reappeared. 

“Foop’s all tuckered out and sleepin’ in his crib.” She informed him, floating very close and taking his hand. Tilting her head, Anti-Wanda gazed at her husband through half-lidded eyes. “Wanna go upstairs and see the present I gotcha?”

Anti-Cosmo grinned at her, irritation towards his mother slipping away. Whatever trouble she and Foop had gotten into could wait until tomorrow, he wasn’t going to worry about it on his anniversary. Scooping a delighted Anti-Wanda into his arms, he poofed them away in a black cloud that read Lovebirds!

Chapter Text

Foop moaned quietly, rolling over in his crib and squeezing his arms around himself. He’d woken up a few minutes ago and desperately wished he hadn’t. Everything hurt; his ears throbbed, his throat was dry and painful, his stomach rolled threateningly, his head felt hot and too heavy to lift, his skin was tight and itchy. He shivered, cold and sweaty and utterly miserable. 

He really wanted his mother but didn’t think he had enough strength to poof himself into his parent’s room. A rough cough escaped his lips and he winced; his throat felt like sandpaper. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he tried to get his stomach under control. His eyes snapped open and he jerked to the side, body going rigid and hot. Retching, he vomited across his pillow, tears stinging his eyes. The hot bile hurt his throat and stung his nose, adding to his misery. 

Gagging, he groped around in his crib for his bottle to poof himself into his parent’s room. Whatever pride he had against asking for help was currently on the floor, along with most of his dinner. Gripping his bottle with shaking fingers, he vanished in a black cloud with the words Sick! inside it.

***

A sudden noise pulled Anti-Cosmo from his dreams of black cats and salt shakers. Blearily, he opened his eyes and scanned his room for the noise. Next to him, Anti-Wanda slumbered on in blissful ignorance.

Gagging noises and quiet whimpers drifted up from near the foot of their bed. He stuck a hand out and groped around for his wand on the bedside table, igniting the star and using its glow to peer into the room.

“Foop?” He squinted at the dark shape on the floor. “What time is it?” He used his wand to poof his monocle on, floating out of bed and closer to his son. Foop was sitting on the floor, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his other hand rubbed at his eyes.  Next to him was a large puddle of sick. Anti-Cosmo grimaced in distaste and flicked his wand, cleaning the spot instantly. 

“Are you alright, child?”

Foop sniffled, shivers racking his small frame. “N-no. I don’t feel good. Everything hurts and I k-keep throwing up.” He swallowed hard, wincing at the pressure that put on his abused throat.

Anti-Cosmo frowned at that. Foop had been fine earlier and Anti-Fairies rarely got sick anyway, because of their immune systems. This was definitely unusual. Flicking his wand, the torches around the room ignited and filled the room with light. From the bed, Anti-Wanda moaned in protest and buried her head under her pillow.

Anti-Cosmo picked Foop up and gently put his hand against his forehead. If the burning heat against his palm didn’t tell him Foop was sick, his son’s willingness to be cradled would have. Foop hated being treated like he was a baby. 

“Anti-Wanda.” His wife ignored him, her head still underneath the pillow. “Anti-Wanda!” He poofed the blankets and pillows away, removing her shields from the light. 

“Imma sleepin’ Cozzie. Lemme ‘lone.” Sleep thickened her accent and blurred her words together indecipherably. Anti-Wanda groped for the missing blankets; eyes pressed shut. 

“Anti-Wanda, your son is very ill. Wake up.” Anti-Cosmo’s gruff tone was offset by his fingers soothingly rubbing circles in the space between Foop’s wings. Foop’s eyes closed halfway; his father’s tender ministrations felt nice, particularly after his last bout of vomiting.

Anti-Wanda’s eyes fluttered open blearily. “Whazzat? Foop?” She yawned and sat up, her eyes wandering around the room until she found Anti-Cosmo’s. “Whatsa matter with Foop?” She floated over to them, worry replacing her exhaustion. 

“I’m not sure yet, but his head’s very warm and I awoke to him being violently sick on the floor. He’s shivering and tugging at his ear.” Anti-Cosmo furrowed his brow, thinking hard. Something about this was familiar, but he couldn’t exactly recall what it was. “Here, take him.”

Carefully depositing Foop into Anti-Wanda’s arms, he examined him with a critical eye. Foop’s blue skin was pale and covered with darker blue splotches. His eyes were glassy, his hand was rubbing absentmindedly at his ear, and he kept shivering. 

“Why don’t you give him a bath while I go look for a book about Anti-Fairy illnesses? If I can find out what he has, then we can try to cure him.”

Anti-Wanda frowned. “Ya think the darlin’ needs ta see Dr. Anti-Rip Studwell?” Foop turned his face into her neck and coughed harshly, his body shaking with each hack. 

“I don’t know.” Anti-Cosmo frowned. “Perhaps. Let me see if I can find out what this is.” Twirling his wand, he poofed himself into the library. 

Anti-Wanda floated towards the bathroom attached to the master room. Foop was shivering again, his hands clutching at her pajama top weakly. 

Foop hadn’t been paying attention to what his parents were discussing. Their words were far away and muffled, as if they were talking in the next room rather than directly above him. He was barely aware of being passed between his parents; his head hurt too much to concentrate. He scarcely noticed his mother filling a sink with lukewarm water and poofing his clothes off. His stomach was beginning to hurt again, churning violently inside of him. 

***

Anti-Cosmo skimmed a medical text rapidly, a stack of medical books floated beside him. The books ranged from old to new and covered Fairy, Anti-Fairy, Pixie, Leprechaun, and human illnesses. There was limited information about Anti-Fairy children, but from what he had read, Foop appeared to be suffering from Multi-Sickness. 

Multi-Sickness was an illness that every magical creature had to endure in order to develop their immune systems. The illness struck all magical children under the age of 5 and combined the symptoms of pneumonia, chicken pox, measles, strep throat, ear infections, the flu, and many other illnesses. It lasted 24 hours and was an essential part of creating a healthy immune system in magical children. 

Closing the book, Anti-Cosmo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was almost positive Foop had Multi-Sickness. If that was the case, there was nothing they could do except wait it out until 24 hours were up. Except…if it wasn’t Multi-Sickness, if it was something else…then they would need to visit Dr. Anti-Rip Studwell. But while he was actually effective at being a doctor, he probably wouldn’t know anything more.

Anti-Cosmo tucked the book under his arm and poofed himself back into his room, expecting Anti-Wanda and Foop to still be there. To his great surprise, they weren’t. He frowned, thought for a second, then poofed himself into Foop’s room. 

Foop, damp from his bath, sniffled pathetically from his spot in Anti-Wanda’s arms. She was hovering in a single spot and lightly humming, gently stroking his back. Anti-Cosmo floated over and laid his hand on Foop’s head. It didn’t seem warmer, which was good, but it also wasn’t any cooler. 

“He tossed his cookies again.” Anti-Wanda informed him quietly. “And when I brought ‘im in here I saw he’d done did it on his pillow too. Did ya find what ya needed?”

“Multi-Sickness. According to this, every magical creature gets it when they’re about Foop’s age. It’s supposed to complete its course in 24 hours.” He informed her, eyes straying to Foop’s half-lidded ones. Glassy and listless; did the boy even hear him talking, or was he far too delirious to comprehend words?

He must have looked worried, because Anti-Wanda shifted Foop around to put a hand on his shoulder. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout? Ya look awful scared for knowin’ what he’s sick with.” 

Trust his wife to be able to detect his worries. Dense she might be, she was always good at picking up on the subtle shifts in his mood.

“I’m not fully certain it is Multi-Sickness.” He confessed, eyes never leaving Foop’s. “Discounting Foop, I’m the youngest Anti-Fairy here, and I don’t remember being ill with this. What if I’m wrong and it’s something else? What if Poof is terribly ill with some kind of disease picked up from the humans? The fairies would never think to tell us if he was dying, we’d only find out when Foop died!” 

Anti-Wanda gasped at that, but he scarcely hears it, working himself up into a full-blown tirade from nerves. “We could take him to see Dr. Anti-Rip Studwell, but chances are that he wouldn’t know anything more that I do! All of the medical records and information on Anti-Fairy babies is nearly 30,000 years out of date, he’d be mostly speculating! I can speculate! We don’t need speculation; we need reliable information on what’s happening with our son!” Anti-Cosmo trembled slightly as he ranted and his hands came up to grab fistfuls of his own hair, an action that he hardly noticed in his agitated state.

Anti-Wanda raised her hand and carefully untangled one of his from his hair. “Cozzie. It’ll be alright.”

Anti-Cosmo scoffed. “You can’t possibly know that. Our son could be…”

“Stop!” Anti-Wanda hissed, knowing what he was going to say and not wanting to hear it again. “Now look here. Cozzie, ya’re real smart. Smartest Anti-Fairy I know, smartest outta all of us. If ya say Foop’s got lotsa sickness, then that’s what Foop’s got. If he had something else, ya’d of already dragged us out to Anti-Studwell. So stop thinkin’ of everything goin’ wrong and take Foop.” She made a move to hand the now sleeping baby over.

Gingerly, Foop was transferred between his parents. He was still asleep, but every now and then he’d release a deep, hacking cough followed by a whimper. His hand was clamped to his ear and he looked pained, even in sleep. 

Anti-Cosmo cradled him and for a moment, silence reigned. Then, so quietly it could have been a sigh, he whispered: “But what if I’m wrong about this?”

Anti-Wanda drifted closer and pecked him on the cheek. “Ya ain’t never been wrong ‘bout something this serious.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, eyes drifting towards Foop. “Ya said 24 hours, right?”

Anti-Cosmo’s lips curled up slightly. “24 hours…”

The next 24 hours were the worst of all of their lives. Foop threw up every few hours, screamed when Anti-Wanda accidentally brushed his ear, cried in agony, and whimpered in his sleep. As the clock ticked closer towards the 24-hour mark, Anti-Cosmo grew increasingly nervous and agitated, only being still and quiet when he was holding Foop. Had she not been so tired and worn down from helping with a sick baby, Anti-Wanda would have beamed and hugged them both. 

As it was, Foop’s fever broke around 3 the next morning. He fell asleep quickly afterwards, as did his parents. When they all woke up the next day, Foop looked and felt normal, as if he’d never been sick at all. 

His parents were relieved, particularly Anti-Cosmo. Still, he resolved to look into any information about Anti-Fairy children as soon as possible. It wouldn’t do to be caught so unaware the next time something like this occurred.

Chapter Text

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama!” Two young anti-fairy girls chorused together. A very young Anti-Wanda, her hair done up in messy pigtails, proudly thrust a bunch of dead weeds into her mother’s hands, many of which still had dirt clinging to them. Next to her, an equally young Anti-Blonda cheerfully handed in a homemade card, complete with black cats, bats, and a ton of sparkly black glitter. 

Their mother smiled fondly at her daughters, clutching both presents tightly. She had curly black hair piled on top of her head like Lucille Ball. She wore black pearls and heels, along with a light blue and black polka dotted dress. Despite her sophisticated appearance, her dress was covered in dirt and she spoke with a thick country accent. “Thank ya, darlin’s. I love ‘em.”

Both girls beamed at their mother and hurried to hug her. She was warm and smelled like soap and fresh dirt. After a few seconds, they all broke apart and their mother down at them, her red eyes bright. 

“Since today’s my day, y'all wanna help me plant somma the flowers yer daddy got fer me?”

Both girls immediately and loudly agreed; in no time at all the Anti-Fairywinkle girls were outside, enjoying an agreeable day together. 

***

“Help me with this, would you?” 

“I don’t see why I have to be here at all. The woman doesn’t like me at all, a feeling that is shared mutually, I might add.”

In a very prim and polished kitchen, two anti-fairy boys bickered nonstop. One with a rather large nose, struggled to juice an orange. A plate of mildly burned eggs hovered half-hazardly behind him, and a pan of very burned scones rested on the oven. 

A young Anti-Schnozmo nicked his finger on the juicer and frowned sharply at his brother. Anti-Cosmo was floating in the door, not helping with breakfast at all, content with just scowling at him with his arms folded. 

“She’s our mother. It’s mother’s day. We are making her breakfast in bed.” He informed his brother, talking in the slow way reserved for stupid children; the way Anti-Cosmo especially hated. He waved his wand, hoping the orange would start juicing itself. Instead, it shot out of his hand and rocketed around the kitchen. 

Anti-Cosmo narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, probably to say something mean. Anti-Schnozmo didn’t let him. “Besides, if you didn’t insist on winding her up so much, she would like you better.”

“Winding her up?” His brother scoffed, ducking the speeding orange. “Letting her baby me, you mean. She treats me like I’m a drooling infant, totally reliant upon her.” With a short wave of his rattle, the orange stopped. Another wave and a perfect glass of juice hovered innocently in its place. 

Anti-Schnozmo abruptly turned and started piling scones onto a plate. It wasn’t fair! He was 200 years older than Anti-Cosmo; why did his brother have to be better at magic than him?

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius.” Anti-Schnozmo sniped back angrily. “You might have noticed that you are, in fact, a baby.” Concentrating hard, he waved his wand again. The plate of scones wobbled hard, but rose in the air nonetheless. 

Anger flashed across Anti-Cosmo’s face, but before he could respond, a feminine voice rang out. 

“Oh my! Look at this! Did you boys do this all for me?”

Both boys turned as a woman with stacked navy curls and a bathrobe floated in the kitchen. She looked delightedly around the kitchen. Anti-Schnozmo zoomed over immediately to hug her. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mummy!”

“Oh, thank you poppet!” Mama Anti-Cosma kissed him. “This is so thoughtful. I just know it must have been your idea, Pet.” She tousled his hair affectionately. 

“Happy Mother’s Day.” Anti-Cosmo grumbled, handing her the cup of juice. 

“Hello, dearie.” Mama Anti-Cosma pulled her youngest into a crushing hug, which he immediately poofed himself out of. “Well, let’s have some of Anti-Schnozmo’s delicious breakfast!”

“Why do you call it Anti-Schnozmo’s breakfast?” Anti-Cosmo huffed. “I helped too. My idiot brother can’t even juice an orange.”

“I can too! Besides, I did all the work here!”

“I made the juice! So it wasn’t “all” the work, now was it!”

***

“Mummy always liked you better!”

“Oh please! She ignored me most of the time! Remember the school play? My graduation? The scone incident??”

“Don’t you dare bring up the scone incident!”

Wide-eyed, Foop watched his father and his uncle Anti-Schnozmo descend into childish squabbling, while his grandmother tried to stop them. He couldn’t believe that the same person blowing raspberries and sticking his hands over his ears was actually his collected, poised, and intelligent father. 

Suddenly, both Anti-Cosma males poofed themselves into fencing gear, complete with sabres and helmets. “ En garde!”

As interesting as it was to watch, when his uncle suddenly cast his sabre away and rugby tackled his father to the ground, Foop decided to find something else to do. Mainly because the thrown sabre missed him by inches. Realizing his mother was gone, he decided to find her. 

Anti-Wanda was outside in the garden, holding a large brown photo album. She didn’t look up when he poofed in front of her. 

“Hello, Mother. You won’t believe what Father and Uncle Anti-Schnozmo are…” Foop broke off, catching sight of her face. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Anti-Wanda sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Just a lil’ bit. I’m ok.”

Normally, Foop would have fled and gotten his father to console his mother. However, since it was Mother’s day...not to mention his father was currently busy getting beaten up by his uncle…

He settled down on the stone bench close to her. Squinting at the album, he saw multiple pictures of the same woman with black curls in a dirty polka dot dress. “Who’s that?”

“My Mama.” Anti-Wanda sniffed again. “Ain’t she pretty? I was just wishin’ that she was still here.”

Foop didn’t know what to say to that. Examining the pictures again, he noticed something. “Aren’t those your earrings?”

Anti-Wanda nodded. “Yup. Mama had two pairs; I got the black pearls an’ Anti-Blonda' got her silver one.” Sighing a little, she flipped a page. “Mama loved her flowers. These here black roses are from her,” she gestured to the roses on either side of them.

Foop, feeling a little curious, looked closer. “Is that you?” He pointed at a picture of a girl in braids and a disheveled spellementary school uniform.  

Anti-Wanda smiled a little. “Yup. Never could keep my clothes all nice ‘n straight like my sis could. Oh, lookie here!” She pointed suddenly to a class picture. “Here’s yer daddy. He’s at the end, ‘cause he’s the littlest. Even younger than his county-part!”

She flipped another page in the album. “An’ here’s Mama again. She an’ Daddy are all dressed up ta go ta one o’ his business meetin’s. And then…”

Hours later, a bruised and ruffled Anti-Cosmo would find them snuggled together, asleep on the bench, photo album open in front of them. 

Chapter Text

Anti-Cosmo finished tying his ascot absentmindedly, having done this so often he hardly needed to think about it anymore. Which was lucky for him; he could watch the frantic blur that was his wife while still ensuring he looked presentable.

Sure enough, Anti-Wanda was darting around the room at Mach 1, gathering clothes, snacks, drinks, and whatever else she could think of and shoving them all into a large bag she could summon later. Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow as he watched her shove a beach chair, snowshoes, firecrackers, and a blowtorch into the bag. He knew she was excited, but still! “Ah, dear? Do you quite think we’ll need all of that?”

Anti-Wanda gave him a bright, toothy grin as she shoved a crowbar and a dozen crumpets in the bag. “O ‘course we will! Anything can happen today! It’s da best day of da year! Gotta be ready!”

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes and finished fastening his cufflinks. It was Foop’s first Friday the 13th and Anti-Wanda was over the moon at the prospect of having a family day on Earth doing what they did best: causing bad luck and chaos. If he was honest with himself, he was also pretty excited to introduce his son to the fine art of making bad luck rather than the random trouble that Foop usually engaged in. However, compared to Anti-Wanda’s open enthusiasm, he looked like a complete downer.

Oh well. It didn’t matter how they felt, so long as Foop enjoyed himself today.

***

Foop squinted suspiciously at his parents as he ate his breakfast. Something was different. First, Anti-Wanda hadn’t come into his room, screeching like a banshee, to wake him up for school: she’d actually let him wake himself up. Then, his father announced that he was skipping school today. That man was the biggest advocate for education and grades and the benefits of school-he’d NEVER willingly let Foop skip school for WHATEVER reason. So, something was up and his parents were acting weird. Was he being punished?

Oh. Oh no. Had they found out about the Meatball and Lizard incident at school? Was that what this was about? That was totally unfair-nobody could prove that was him! At the very least, his mother should have found it funny!

“Is ya done?” Anti-Wanda barely waited for him to answer before poofing his bowl away and poofing a new set of clothes on him. Foop glanced down at himself-his onesie had been replaced with a black and pale blue long sleeved skull shirt, he wore black jeans, and he was wearing black toddler shoes. “I gotcha special new clothes fer today when we go ta Earth!!” Anti-Wanda gushed. Anti-Cosmo immediately poofed up a camera and his mother snapped a picture of him.

“Ok, what’s going on?” Foop demanded, leaping back and waving his bottle around. “You know I’m not allowed to go to Earth-the jarheaded fairy said so. And you’re both acting weird! Weirder than normal. If you’re gonna punish me, just do it! Stop with the mind games!”

Both his parents frowned. “I’m sorry, hun! But nothin’ bad is happenin’!” Anti-Wanda shot him a reassuring smile, while at the same moment Anti-Cosmo shot him a questioning look and said, “why would we need to punish you?”

Foop looked at his father. “No reason.”

Anti-Cosmo gave his son a flat stare and Foop stared back with what he hoped was a winning smile. After a long moment, Anti-Cosmo shook his head. “Well, whatever it was you clearly got away with so let’s just ignore that for now. No this,” he gestured at the boy, “is a celebration of your first Friday the 13th. The day that Anti’s get to go out to Earth and make mischief and bad luck. The first Friday the 13th is always a big tradition, it’s how young anti-fairies learn our ways and customs and other things they don’t teach you at Spellementary School.”

“It’s da best day of the year!” Anti-Wanda cheered, zipping over and hugging him tightly. Foop fought his way out, frowning sharply at his father.

“I’m still not allowed on Earth though.”

“Child, do use your head. We aren’t asking permission, we’re sneaking out.” Anti-Cosmo smirked.

“Really?”

“And we ain’t gonna get caught neither!” Anti-Wanda smiled goofily at her husband. “Yer Daddy’s the best, most smartest ‘scape artist there is, he’s gonna sneak us out and I’m not gonna talk and ruin anything this time!”

Foop, sensing there was a story there but not caring enough to ask about it, started to get excited. He hadn’t been to Earth in forever! Maybe he could talk his father into visiting his annoying counterpart and messing with them. “So, how are we getting there?”

The smirk on Anti-Cosmo’s face grew and his eyes got brighter. “Oh, just you wait and see, child. Wait and see.”

***

After a truly amazing escape to Earth, the Anti-Cosmo’s were floating above an outdoor cafe in Paris, France. Foop watched as a human man with a large nose and obnoxious beret sipped a small cup of espresso; as the man set his cup down and picked up his phone, he knocked the salt shaker over.

Immediately, Foop felt an electrifying tingle run down his spine and a rush of energy sweep through his limbs. He couldn’t stop a gasp escaping. His parents were also affected-his mother was giggling to herself and twirling her wand and his father had a wide grin on his face and a gleam in his eye. “What was that?” He questioned softly. Just because they were invisible to humans didn’t mean they couldn’t be heard, so they had to be very quiet.

“That was bad luck.” Anti-Cosmo smiled at him. “Seductive, isn’t it? All Anti-Fairies love bad luck; the only thing better than bad luck is causing misfortune related to bad luck. Anti-Wanda, why don’t you take this one?”

Anti-Wanda didn’t need to be told twice. She zipped over to the man, wand glowing blue and waving madly.

“You see, child, the best thing is causing misfortune that affects as many people at once. But, according to Da Anti-Rules about bad luck magics, the misfortune has to fit the crime.” Anti-Cosmo whispered to Foop, who hung on every word. “That man spilled salt, so he needs bad luck that reflects that. Watch what your mother does.”

Anti-Wanda waved her wand again. Immediately, one of the chair legs broke and the man tipped backwards, right into the path of an oncoming waiter. The waiter tripped, while he caught himself, he dropped his tray and the snails that he had had on it fell and covered the man on the ground. Both of them started loudly shouting in French at each other.

The Anti-Cosma men snickered. “All your mother did was break his chair legs for spilling the salt, so proportional bad luck was given, but she also caused misfortune for the waiter. Excellent! See how fun bad luck can be?” Foop, still snickering, nodded.

Anti-Wanda zipped back over. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright. “Didya see? Didya? It was great!”

Anti-Cosmo kissed her cheek. “Very nice, Clarice.”

“D’aw! Thanks for givin’ me first dibs, sugar!” She grinned widely, revealing crooked teeth. “Didya see Mama, Foop? Are ya gonna try some bad luck now? Oh~let me get my camry!”

The three of them teleported to another location-on the South Bank of the Thames River in England. A surly punk teen with a green Mohawk was smoking and walking along the sand . He took a drag of his cigarette and ducked under a ladder someone had set up as they repaired bits of the fence overhead. Instantly Foop felt that addictive tingle and burst of energy again. Anti-Wanda raised her camera as Foop raised his bottle, the top glowing with magic.

The teen screamed curses as his foot slipped in the sand, sending him crashing into the ladder. The previous worker had neglected to clean up his tools, so crashing into the ladder sent the bucket of tools crashing down on the teen. Anti-Wanda’s camera flashed as the three Anti-Fairies burst into laughter.

Foop gazed at his parents with a large smile. That was…that felt good and right. It was like there’d been an itch inside him that he hadn’t been aware of, but this. This scratched it. No wonder his mother called this the best day of the year and his father schemed and plotted for this event constantly. This was the best day of the year, this was amazing!

Suddenly Anti-Cosmo grabbed both his wife and son and ducked behind a bush. Foop made a noise of protest, but a hand was pressed hard over his mouth. The baby contemplated biting it, but then he caught sight of two fairies, dressed as prison guards, and shrank back into his father. With his arms wrapped carefully around his wife and child, Anti-Cosmo poofed away in a dark cloud that read Run-Away!

***
The Anti-fairies reappeared in a sunny place. Foop squinted in the sunshine and caught sight of Alligators in a small lake. They must have been in Florida. Suddenly he was grabbed and squeezed like a stress ball.

“Darn fairies! Ruinin’ my baby’s day.” Anti-Wanda grumbled, hugging Foop hard and petting his hair. Foop squirmed, trying to break free but his mother hung on harder.

“We’ll just have to avoid them. Don’t worry, dear. Perhaps it can be like a game.” Anti-Cosmo assured her. Suddenly they all sat up straighter as a tingle ran through them and pink, green, and purple eyes darted to a young girl who was shooing a black cat away by kicking at it. Her foot slipped and she ended up kicking the mirror outside of a store, which fell and shattered on the ground. Quick as a flash, Anti-Cosmo’s wand was waving and the awning above the store ripped and the accumulated water dumped all over her.

Foop felt another tingle go through him. He turned his head and saw the same black cat casually walking by a group of garbage men. He grinned an almost perfect replica of Anti-Cosmo’s devious smile. This was gonna be fun!

***

Anti-Wanda carefully laid Foop down in his crib. The baby snuggled up to his new black cat pillow and she resisted the urge to coo.

After a fun filled day causing mischief and mayhem, as well as indulging in some unexpected yet enjoyable sightseeing as they dodged fairy world prison guards, the Anti-Cosma’s had returned to the castle. As was expected, the family had sent a few presents to Foop for his first Friday the 13th. Anti-Blonda had bought him the black cat pillow, Mama Anti-Cosma sent him some coloring books, and Anti-Big Daddy had sent him a pocket knife which Anti-Cosmo had promptly taken and moved to a safe place. After a quick dinner, Foop had passed out like a light.

Anti-Wanda stroked a finger over her baby’s face. This had been a perfect day. She got so many pictures on her camera, they’d spent all day together doing what they did best, and…it was just perfect. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Night, baby. Love ya.”

She turned and saw Anti-Cosmo standing in the doorway. She floated over and hugged him, suddenly overcome with lots of emotions. Anti-Cosmo wrapped an arm around her and slowly closed the door, as Foop slumbered on, a small smile on his face.