Cosmo never truly sought himself to be a mentor, a married man, least of all anything remotely tied to being a significant father. The only thing the fairy ever had looking forward to in life was simply living it, never having to glance back at the shadows that chased every being with a considerate mind. Why try to think, when it was so much more painless not to? Why fight against a waging war that would accomplish no matter the defeat, and would continue to thrive in the aftermath of his days? Cosmo always heard the saying that life is stale without its challenges, but is it truly? Would the idea be stale when the pain became near unbearable, when every expectation weighs another link to a growing chain.

Stupidity is mother nature's mark, ignorance is a willful torture. Cosmo wasn't too sure if he had been either.

But he had known one thing, he couldn't have been an idiot. An idiot would have the inability to have these gruesome thoughts, gnawing at his femurs, as they shriveled against his body in the dead of restless sleep. Even Mama knew it, despite how much she tried desperately to oppress those instincts.

It shattered him the first time he laid his eyes upon Wanda, her countenance melting the forges the fairy created for himself during a lifespan, within a blink. She knew of an alien intelligence, perhaps she even occupied one of her own. She committed the impossibility that loomed inside Cosmo, ripping apart his lies, exposing his cavities, even as the blood flowed through. She knew his mind, his soul, by mere sentiment. Wanda was the first, but she was never the last.

That seat had been preserved for Timmy Turner alone.

Up until such a point, it was apparent to Cosmo that his past god children saw the pictures he wished to paint, the pictures that he used to fool the world. A man that occupied no thought, a dimwit, an individual with no perspective in life itself; his gas mask to reality's poison.

Yet after all these years, Timmy had been the only quintessential child. Instead of staring at the paintings, he scrutinized the paints still rotting in their tubes, the brushes that wilted at dead ends in brash attempts at misconception. During observation, he'd burn that painting.

In those rare moments of thought, Cosmo perceived attachment.

Cosmo never truly sought himself to be a mentor, a married man, least of all anything remotely tied to being a significant father. But intentions were produced from a fanatical mind, and were often far from what life truly had to offer. Perhaps, just this once, Cosmo would keep that thought.


Author's Note:

Thank you for checking out this story! I decided to try my hand at something new, that is, not Disney related. I figured it might make good practice, and get creative ideas flowing better.

When thinking on this, I thought in why not writing about the OddParents? I had some fun writing this piece, especially for writing my first story in the genre.

Once again, thank you for spending your time in reading my works, it means a lot! All criticism is appreciated!

I do now own The Fairly OddParents, and neither do I make money off of this story. All characters/rights belong to Nickelodeon and their original creators.