I greatly appreciate the feedback I did get as far as another installment.
Also, while I aim for consistency, life drains me sometimes. Much gratitude to those who're patient and don't try to rush me with a pointless guest review that has since been deleted.
Inside a ten-year-old's room, Wanda sat on the bed, cradling her stomach as her husband rubbed soothing circles in the pain pinching her lower back. Her magic labs and blood tests had revealed that the wish's magic and the magic developing within the baby was both accelerating its growth and amplifying her nausea and body aches. With this as the first wish-born pregnancy in the history of ever, Dr. Studwell's educated guess was primarily based off test results. Fortunately, Dr. Studwell had cleared her for active godparenting duty, and he'd prescribed medicine that should start to alleviate the worst of her symptoms. Unfortunately, he'd suggested that Cosmo take on more of the wish granting burden so that Wanda could conserve what magic she could for the baby.
She wasn't terribly concerned about Cosmo's competence since it wasn't like he'd be completely on his own. She knew there'd come a point where her pregnancy would slow her down…just didn't expect it so soon.
The fairy couple watched the dark cloud hanging over their godson's head at the other edge of his bed, distancing himself from them with crossed arms. He'd told them that everything was fine when they'd returned from their appointment, but his rutty brow said otherwise.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Cosmo asked, seeing Timmy avert his gaze.
"Is it the baby?" Wanda assumed. She watched Timmy shake his head with blue eyes downcast. "Then talk to us, sport." she tried, speaking tenderly. "You know you can talk to us about anything."
His lips tightened when he felt them start to tremble. Wanda and the baby should be enough for them to about. He didn't deserve for them to care so much.
[Tell them, Bubba…] he heard Sophia's soft encouragement. [Take guilt out, let love in…remember?]
He retched in his throat, forcing sown a sob. Wrapping arms around himself to keep the threads from falling apart. He shifted slightly when Cosmo appeared to his left and Wanda on his right. He felt the blurry outline of her hand resting on the knee of his jeans before a fretting palm wiped away glossing shame.
"We love you..." his godmother gave his knee a motherly squeeze.
His godfather reached a fatherly palm to his shoulder. "We'll always love you…"
He tried to blink away brimming tears, but the glass wall between him and his fairies was cracking fast. "…I-I…" his squeak cracked slightly "…I love you too…"
"Can you tell us what's wrong?" Cosmo gave gentle strokes to Timmy's stiff shoulder with his thumb.
Timmy went back and forth before opening his mouth and closing it, uncertain if he could tell them the truth. He honestly didn't want to, but he knew he had to. They would just keep asking, and his defenses were weakening.
"…I've been lying to you guys…"
In the back of their minds, Cosmo and Wanda knew Timmy had been keeping something from him. They were just waiting for him to say it.
His arm wiped whatever tears managed to fall, unable to meet their attentive gaze just yet "…and I-I did something stupid last night…"
"…what did you do?"
His godmother's question sounded like the softest blanket warming the icy chill in his heart. It was still kind of freaky how she could do that. "…I um…" his lips folded inward, as if instinctively stopping himself from revealing what he'd done. They could love him and still be greatly disappointed in him. He didn't want to disappoint them, nor did he want them to blame themselves for his actions.
"It's okay." Wanda probed gently. "You can tell us."
His nails began to pinch at his arm, just like the inner guilt pinching at his nerves "…I almost took…some of my mom's pills…"
"…what were you gonna do with them?" From his own experience that felt eerily similar, Cosmo already known the answer.
Timmy tightly swallowed "…take them…"
"Why?"
"…I-I wanted to sleep…I haven't been…" his nail pinched a stinging redness into his skin, a faint tremor in his hand "…and if Sophia hadn't stopped me…"
"Oh, Timmy…" Wanda let out a saddened breath. She should have known his mental state had gotten this bad…
"…I'm sorry…" his whimpers couldn't hold swelling tears back any longer, shutting his eyes as he laced tighter arms around himself "…I-I'm sorry…"
"Shhh…" Wanda joined her husband in a loving embrace around their godson "…we're here, sweetie."
Sniffling tears dampened Timmy's cheeks, allowing the love of his godparents to soothe the gaping hole in his heart.
Orangey hues painted the dimmest glow through the cracks of puffy clouds, casting the dullest light into the bedroom where a desk lamp shined bright through the creeping darkness. Providing visibility as the fairy-obsessed teacher tweaked away at his fairy detector from his workbench littered with tools. Finishing his fairy detector had stolen majority of his time and attention, working tirelessly throughout the day. If children had suddenly vanished without a trace, then this was clearly the work of mystical forces.
He was going to prove the existence of fairies, and this detector was going to help him prove it. How, you ask? It shall all start with one pink-hatted kid. If his detector can detect even a trace of magic from those pink and green wristbands of his, then Turner will be unable to deny the existence of FAIRY GODPARENTS!
Mr. Crocker sneered from the twinging crack in the back of his neck. Man, he has got to stop twitching like that.
The rattle of metal and frantic squawking snapped his sore neck towards the bird cage, hammering his heart. Goggling his eyes at the feathers of green wings flapping violently, its whole body overcome in aggressive seizes.
"…Carlos?!" Mr. Crocker abandoned his detector and dashed to the rattling cage, fumbling to get the door open. Then, his green parakeet fell flaccidly almost as quickly as he began to seize. Beak agape in the blankest stare with the pink galah next to him. She gave no reaction, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. Shivering feathers wheezing for breath.
Fingers shaking, Mr. Crocker reached inside the cage, scooping the green parakeet in his palms. Chilling his nerves when Carlos had no support in his head, nor did his chest show any signs of breathing.
"…wake up, Carlos…" Mr. Crocker uttered, using a finger to push circles into Carlos's chest. Hearing his heart thump in his ears when Carlos failed to stir.
"…D..Den..zel…"
Through the thump in his ears, Mr. Crocker shot wide eyes to the pink galah's struggle to squawk to him. Feeling the tethers tear in his heart from the single tear trailing from Wilma's eye.
"…W-Wilma?" his throat was starting to constrict. He lowered Carlos delicately on the nearby bed, as if trying not to break him. Staring with the most crestfallen eyes, Denzel then return to the cage to scoop his beloved pink galah into shaky palms.
Black eyes fixed on her caregiver, a corpse-like stiffness started in her toes, working its way through her legs. Crawling up the pink feathers in her chest, freezing her greyish wings to her sides. It'd choked its way to her throat, but not before she strained her final croak "…L…Lov-"
Jolting spasms overtook her, flapping her wings in rapid succession. All he could do was quiver his chin as he was forced to watch her body buzz frantically in his palms for the cruelest, most agonizing ten seconds of his life.
When her wings went still with a motionless glaze in her eyes glazed, he knew her suffering had ended…
Wilma shook limply in the growing shiver through his palms, grief swelling behind his glasses. He did his best to lower her next to Carlos who had since been long gone. Careful in resting her head when he lowered her, his breaths started to hitch in his throat as color drained from his already pale skin. His feet slowly stumbled him backwards from the bed, the creaking of floorboards piercing the deadly silence in the air.
A pitchy ring droned in his head, growing louder by the second. Numbing the tips of his toes and the tips of his quivering fingers. Carlos and Wilma…t-they were still alive just this morning. He…he didn't know they were that sick he…he didn't know! Should…s-should he have acted sooner? W-Would that have made a difference?!
Buckling knees dropped to the ground, the ringing in his ears amping a fuzzy pressure in his skull. Blurring his vision as his hands clawed at his temples, his ribs rattled with the pacing pulse of his heart. No…t-they can't be gone. They can't be. They can't leave him. Not again. No, no, no, no, NO! This wasn't happening! This was not HAPPENing!
The loudest boom shook Mr. Crocker in his core, fluttering through brewing tears as a tall, muscular figure appeared through the dissipating mushroom cloud. His green fitted tank was tucked into camouflage pants, yielding the largest staff the shape of a giant…wand?
Never mind how this strange man suddenly appeared in his room like magic. Though he saw no wings, this man had a gold crown on his head! A crown! Just like…just like…
"…y-you…you…" a trembling finger pointed, aimed towards the golden sheen of a crown as the strange man retrieved a yellow, pen-like object from his pocket "…y-you're a fai-"
Fuchsia flashes of Forget-a-cin flickered pink swirls into the glass of Mr. Crocker's black rims, fogging all train of thought into a confused haze. Numbness tingled in his lips, slacking his jaw. The room swayed, spinning in his vision before lack of bodily control fell backwards.
Tucking the memory wiper back in his pocket, Jorgen Von Strangle creased his brow at the subtle twitch in the teacher's limbs. Watching the human mumble incoherent gibberish to himself in a distant stare towards the ceiling. It was bittersweet having to see the likes of Denzel Crocker.
He didn't think he'd ever see him again. Not since that fated day of March 15th, 1972…
A ten-year-old boy and his beloved parrots magically appeared from a greenish pink cloud to the ocean blue sky and white sand of Dimmsdale Beach. With his green parrot perched on Denzel's right shoulder while the pink parrot perched on his left, he stood along the private wooden walkway leading up the path from the beach towards the section of two-story homes overlooking the jewel toned water and glittering gulf.
Making his way up the treated-pine planks aged in sand and algae, the boy felt his heart putter in his chest. Clutching the straps of his backpack as he goggled at the grey metal roof and concrete siding painted in a summery pastel blue. White columns gave a crisp finish to the house's edges and supported the glassed-in balconies facing the growing tides of the Pacific Ocean, white vinyl framing the glass doors and multiple floor-to-ceiling windows optimizing the beachy scenic view whether inside or outside the home.
Denzel Crocker couldn't concentrate at school that day because all he could think about was starting anew. Sick and tired of Vic's sadistic torture, sick and tired of his mother's inattentive neglect. The night before, he'd only packed the essentials; he could have any superfluities from the wave of a wand. His mother hadn't noticed the extra stretch of his backpack that morning, and he hadn't bothered to leave any note of his departure. She probably wouldn't notice his absence, or if she did, she wouldn't be in a hurry to contact authorities.
Once the last bell dismissed him and fellow students of Dimmsdale Elementary, Denzel had wished to come to the house of his father. The father of whom he'd not seen in eight years, the father that was absent in both his life and what little family pictures lined the walls of his mother's house. The father of whom he'd not a clue of what he even looked like, though he assumed he'd bear some resemblance. Coming to his father's house unannounced was not ideal, and his godmother had even tried to talk him out of it. He didn't care; he needed to get away, be anywhere else but that hellhole of a home.
"Are you sure about this, Denzel?" the pink parrot continued to worry, just as she had been throughout the day. "You don't know this man."
"Doesn't mean I can't get to know him." Denzel reasoned as he stepped onto the wooden front deck, scuffing off sand onto the fuzzy welcome mat before the Huntington door coated in the purest white.
"But what if he's no better than your mom?" the green parrot shared in his wife's concern.
Pressing the doorbell, Denzel could hear the chiming echo through the home. No turning back from here. "I'd rather take my chances…"
The boy and his parrots soon heard the deadbolt's clank followed by the doorknob's chink, seeing the door open to reveal the beach-tanned skin and wavy golden locks of a woman he'd never met. Her figure was slime with an alluring curve, legs that stretched for miles peeking through the mid-thigh hem of her purple dress printed with pink and red paisley designs throughout flared sleeves. The vintage V-neck gave emphasis to the white diamond accessorizing her modelesque collar bone, also giving shape to the dirty pillows that seemed much plumper than his mother's. Those same white diamonds hung from her ears and adorned her wrists, and white boots reached just below her knees.
"Hello, ma'am." Denzel was polite in his introduction. "My name is Denzel Crocker. Is Devin Crocker here?"
When she realized who this boy was once he'd spoken his name, hazel eyes scrunched to a scowl at the unexpected sight of the slender lad and oddly-colored parrots. "No." spat her venomous tongue. "Go away."
Denzel received a door slam to the face before he had a chance to process.
"She's a sweetheart…" his pink parrot groaned, dripping with sarcasm.
Puzzled by the woman's hostile reaction towards him, Denzel pressed the doorbell again. He waited to for no one to return to the front door before he pressed the bell three more times, and when he was met with more snub silence, rejection fell in his features.
"…what now?" his green parrot questioned.
"…I don't know." He turned him away from the door, wrought with humiliation. "I didn't expect this…"
His ears perked at the twist of a doorknob behind him. Turning back around, Denzel and his magical parrots saw the Huntington door swing open, revealing the smokey-black mullet permed into jerry curls. The lapel of his white and brown plaid button-up did little to cover bulging pecs and washboard abs, loosely tucked into denim bell-bottoms looped in the grooviest brown-leather belt with clunky black heels glimmering in metallic leather. Circular black rims framed his dark-blue glare, and his bushy mustache could not hide much of his disgruntled frown.
Technically, Denzel was meeting his father for the first time. He didn't expect this, either.
"Hi, um…" flustered nerves made him a bit shy, rubbing his arm "…do you know who I am?"
"Duh, you have her face." The sternness in his tone snarked, visibly less than thrilled in dealing with the splitting image of his ex-wife. "What do you want."
"Um…" an awkward nail scratched the side of Denzel's neck "…I ran away from home."
"And you came all the way out here, why?"
Denzel frowned, fiddling with his backpack straps "…b-because mother doesn't care about me."
Devin Crocker scoffed, setting a hand on his cocked hip. "That salty bitch never cared about anyone but herself."
Denzel cringed alongside his parrots. Never had he'd heard anyone call his mother out her name, even if she deserved it to an extent.
As footsteps of black-leather Mary Janes tottered from behind Devin's pants leg, Denzel spotted a little girl whose smokey-black hair was tied in a high pony with the biggest pink bow. Sporting a white turtleneck beneath her overall dress in matching-pink denim with white stockings, Denzel presumed her shorter height and round cheeks to be a few years younger than him. She also had the same hazel eyes as that woman from earlier, except hers were big and bold when she noticed the older boy standing on the welcome mat.
"Daddy, who's that!?" the little girl squeaked, pointing a curious finger.
"Katherine, go back inside with your mother." Denzel noticed Devin intimidating guard soften when addressing the little girl now identified as his daughter.
Disappointed, Denzel's half-sister pouted. "But, daddy!"
"Go on, honey." The first time Denzel saw Devin crack a gentle grin was towards Katherine. "I'll be there in a sec, okay?"
"Awww, okay…"
Obeying her father, Katherine hung her head as she dragged her feet out of sight. Devin's softened guard hardened once his daughter was gone, facing the tartest scowl towards the uninvited boy on his property. "Leave my house, and never show your face here again. Do you copy?"
"B-But…" Tethers of Denzel's heart began to tear in rips of rejection "…b-but, father-!"
"Never call me that!" Devin's bellow boomed, startling Denzel slightly. He'd long since severed all ties to his old life, and that included the son with the same ugly face as the woman who loved working and making money more than she ever loved him. "I have one daughter, and that's it! Got it?!"
Devin whirled back inside his home. Daring not to look back at the shattered spirits welling in the boy's eyes as he forced the door shut in a whamming crash.
"…I'm so sorry, Denzel." the pink parrot sympathized. Every child deserved a parent, but not every parent deserved a child.
Denzel scrunched his brow, lifting his glasses as an agitated arm swiped away tears before they could fall. It was stupid of him to even hope that, maybe, just maybe, his father would welcome him with open arms.
Seeing the tremor in his godson's gritted chin, the green parrot hoped to take Denzel's mind off such a horrific ordeal "…wanna take a walk on the beach? Y'know…since we're, like, here and all."
Denzel tore himself away. Daring not to look back as he stomped away along the treated-pine path towards the open sand of Dimmsdale Beach.
. . . . . .
Artistic strokes of cool blues blended into breathless warm oranges, the fiery sun gradually drifting behind the horizon of saline waters. Gentle rumbles of sea-foam arches brushed against the sandy shore, feathery and grainy beneath the broad, wooden peer. Timber columns withstood every rhythmic slap of sea, and the mounted planks provided shade for the lone boy's stroll. Carrying his socks and shoes with two fingers as he stayed well outside the dangerous potential of the tide pulling him under.
His fairy godparents remained in their parrot disguise, keeping Denzel company on both shoulders. Denzel's other hand dragged his backpack along the sand, creating a trail of his directionless journey. Restless thoughts had lost track of time as to how long he'd been at the beach. Growing shadows cooled the temperature beneath the pier, the number of visitors dwindled bit by bit, and that bastard's home now looked the size of a miniature dollhouse. Guess that gave some indication that hours had passed. He'd been too busy internally chiding himself, cursing himself for thinking that the man who'd abandoned him would want a life with him.
Friends at school were few and far between, his babysitter was the epitome of evil, his mother gave more attention and effort to what put money in her purse, and now, he'd learned the hard way that his father likely never wanted him in the first place. He should have listened to his godmother, but instead, he let his foolish child nativity ignore factual logic. Devin Crocker will never accept him into this supposedly better life that had no space for him.
"…do you wanna talk now, Denzel?" his pink parrot croaked, breaking the long silence.
"What's to talk about?" Denzel huffed, cursing his eyes for glossing all over again "…I'm unlovable…"
"Sweetie, we love you." His pink parrot stressed.
In the same vein, his green parrot brushed the top feathers of his head to Denzel's cheek. "We'll always love you."
His disheartened strides came to a stop, unable to fight back the real pain inside pressing behind his eyes. He lifted his glasses with one rubbing palm, threatening tears quivering his voice. "…I-I love you too…"
The pink parrot ached for her godson, seeing his heart break right before her eyes. "Oh, Denzel…"
"…m-my life…is so miserable…" his arm hid flowing tears, soft sobs shaking his shoulders "…I-I don't know how I'd be able to bear it…if…i-if it weren't for your two…"
Scanning the area to find no one around to expose them, the two parrots transformed within a teal cloud of magic, reappearing in their true forms. One tied shamrock-green locks in a low pony, the other parted fuchsia strands down the middle, stopping just above her shoulders. One wore a black vest, the other a yellow crop top. Both wore yellow shades that rested on the bridge of their noses, and their foreheads were tied with blue headbands. Blue beads hung like chokers around their necks, and blue bell-bottoms bore bare feet. Both wore gold crowns, floated with fly-like wings, and yielded star-shaped wands in their hands.
And both hovered before the crying boy, watching Denzel attempt to see past crestfallen tears in short blinks as he sniveled to them…
"…Cosmo and Wanda…"
Cosmo and Wanda sandwiched him within their loving embrace, and Denzel clung to them, never wanting to let them go. He still remembered May 13th, the 10th birthday that felt as vivid as yesterday. His mom chose to work instead of celebrating his day of birth, sticking him with a sadistic teen hellbent on causing as much pain as possible. That was, until two strange, mystical creatures had suddenly appeared in his room and had introduced themselves as his fairy godparents. He never expected fairy godparents to become like the nurturing mother and supportive father that he never had in his life.
The life he had before them felt like an entirely different dimension, a dimension of darkness and despair. Their magic saved him from darkness and despair, they saved him. Never can he ever imagine a life without them.
When sobs eventually calmed, Cosmo looked down at his godson's quiet tears "…wanna go back home?"
"Don't see any other choice…" Denzel sighed heavily. Likely, his mother wasn't home, which meant that, likely, Vic would be waiting to 'have his fun' with him. Might as well pour alcohol on his wounds while they were still fresh…the slashes in his heart hurt worse than whatever slam against the wall or punch in the face Vic could throw. Then again, maybe he can get some reprieve if he's able to avoid Vic by locking himself away in his room.
Still cradled within his godparents' embrace, Denzel frowned as he mumbled "…I wish I was back in my room."
With a wave of their wands, the fairy family disappeared just as another wave rumbled onto shore.
. . . . . .
The fairy family reappeared within the beige walls and fluffy brown carpet of his room. Posters of cars and peace signs were taped above the brown frame and pink plaid duvet of his bed next to the lone window lined with burgundy curtains. Denzel removed his backpack, tossing it to slump against the leg of his bed as his fairies hovered behind him. "Cosmo, Wanda…" he turned to face them, wanting nothing else but to sleep the rest of this forsaken day away. "I wish-"
The pink door to his bedroom crashed against the wall from the force of the redhaired teen's boot kicking it open. Cosmo and Wanda shifted back into parrots, thankfully before their existence was exposed.
"What's crackin', loser." Vic's scruffy grin dripped with malicious intent.
"Vic, please…" Denzel couldn't muster any desperate plea in his voice, only deflated suppliance. "I'm not in the mood today…"
"You think I give a shit 'bout your mood?" Vic scoffed, looming towards his prey "I wanna have fun!"
Green and pink parrots flapped their wings in front of the boy, creating a defensive barrier between him and his predator. Screeching at the teen with threatening squawks as Vic stalled in his charge, unsure of what to make of this. Though confound to restrictions of Da Rules, Cosmo and Wanda were not gonna let Vic lay another hand on their godson.
Vic's annoyance slit his brow. Clearly, those stupid birds didn't like him. The feeling was mutual. Those bastards always got on his damn nerves. They always found some rhyme or reason to ruin his fun, but not anymore. He got somethin' for those beak snappers.
He stormed towards the protective parrots, showing no fear in their screech. He snatched at their necks midair, his gritting grip depriving them of oxygen.
"No!" Denzel tried to pry his parrots away, jumping and clawing at Vic's fingers "Leave them alone!"
The toe of red chuck taylors rammed into the boy's gut, kicking the very breath from his lung. Weakness dropped Denzel to his knees before Vic took his two new playthings to a nearby wall, giving little shit to their feathers thrashing for freedom. His lack of mercy slammed their bodies one after one against drywall, tingling his senses with euphoria when the snap of bones audibly accentuated each smack.
"…n-nooo…" Denzel seethed with one hand clamped on his churning stomach, clawing at the carpet with the other "…stop it!"
Far from stopping, Vic then tossed his victims onto the carpet, curling his smirk with delight as pink and green wings twitched. Searing pain shouted in their veins, stealing the strength to screech or make any audible noises. Unable to move an inch as the teen kneeled to them, digging into his back pocket for the next phase of his fun…
Extending his pocket knife, Vic struck down with a blade to green feathers.
Cosmo cried out in pain, green feathers tainted red with each strike of Vic's knife. Vic repeated his torment to Cosmo's other wing, piercing directly into bone. Helpless tears coated Wanda's feathers, feeling powerless to save her husband as the blade pinned his bleeding wing to the carpet. Vic twisted the blade deeper, streaming rivets of red tears.
Cosmo's agonizing cries pained her more than the throbbing cracks in her bones. Then, menacing pink eyes gleamed at her, and in that moment, she knew she could not escape her turn.
Moving from her husband, Vic grabbed both bird legs with both hands. Terrorized fear flashed in fuchsia orbs, dreading what was to come next…
Bones crunched when her legs crumpled unnaturally, gurgling earsplitting wails in her throat.
"STOOOOOP!"
Denzel sobbed beggingly, pleadingly. Distraught as his godmother's wails weakened, eyes rolling into her head. She'd been subjected to such unbearable pain, and Vic reveled in it. Her husband screeched and cried for her, forgotten his own pain when her body could no longer withstand hers.
"Nah, you can't fall asleep…" his sinister smirk extracted the blade from the green parrot writhing in pain, aiming it to where it struck down on the pink parrot's shoulder. Her eyes flashed, jolting sharper sparks through the burning throbs throughout her body.
"No…" Denzel conjured what strength he could, reaching to his knees as agony dripped from clamped eyes to the carpet below. He choked back a sob that felt like vomit, distress quaking through his arms. Cosmo and Wanda didn't deserve this. But…what can he do to save them? Vic was stronger. He was weak.
Gut-wrenching sobs overtook him. There was something he could do, but it would cost the ultimate price. Their magic saved him from darkness and despair, and now, he had to save them from pain and suffering. Never could he ever imagine a life without the two people to ever love him. But as they say…
Sometimes, if you love someone…you have to let them go for their own good.
He gathered the strength to lift his head, squinting from the sting of tears ever flowing. Vic's maniacal laugh haunted the ragged slits to his spirit, sniffing back the building mucus draining from flaring nostrils. Biting down on his lip as he pushed himself to unsteady feet. Quivering fingers coiled, making fists to keep himself grounded. His sore throat swallowed, mustering the whimper to utter the very words that would change his life forever.
"…I-I'm happy…and I don't need…my godparents anymore…"
As expected, the fury of magenta magic swirled in a twisting cloud. Engulfing the room in a darkened hue.
"…the fuck's goin' on?" Sheer shock dropped Vic's knife, darting eyes at the weird phenomenon thickening the air.
"DENZEL CROCKERRRRRRR!" a thunderous voice rang out, sending down a giant copy of Da Rules. "YOU HAVE GIVEN UP YOUR FAIRIES!"
A man of brute muscle descended from the magical twister, purple afro hatted with a gold crown. Steel-blue eyes stern, his protruding jaw clenched through his large chin. He wore a turquoise button-up beneath his all-white blazer and slacks, white platforms adding to his already towering height. Clasped in his authoritative hand was a golden peace sign attached to a grand staff.
Jorgen Von Strangle, Commander of Fairies, approached the puny godchild. Digging in his pocket for his memory wiper. "You will now lose your fairy godparents! And, from this day forward, you shall forget you ever had them!"
"Aye, who the fuc-" Vic didn't have the chance to confront the mysterious man before a flash of fuchsia flickered, stunning pink swirls into dazed eyes as his mind blanked.
Remembering that his backpack was still there, Denzel snatched it and rushed to zip it open. Pushing through forceful winds of twisting magic as he scrounged for his composition notebook and a pencil. No matter what he knew would happen next, he can't ever forget his godparents. They meant too much to him.
Opening the cover of his composition notebook, Denzel flipped to the first blank page he found. Writing in all caps with the boldest letters "…Fairy…Godparents…Exist!"
Just as Denzel etched the last 't' into notebook paper, Jorgen grabbed him, turning him by his shoulder to face the memory wiper. Fuchsia flashes chipped away at his memories. Wait…what even a fairy? Two more flashes disintegrating holes into his brain. Are there even fairies?!
Another dose of forget-a-cin caused his once straight back to hunch. His once white teeth cracked yellow, and his once full head of smokey-black hair seared into a short, jagged crop.
With that part of his job done, Jorgen made his way to the two parrots, one whimpering in suffering with the other clinging to the consciousness. First, he used his memory wiper on them, erasing their horrific torture from their minds. Once their eyes daze, he sparked his staff to coat their broken bodies in healing magic. They were in critical need of medical attention, but he at least needed them stable for magical teleportation.
Healing them enough to scoop them into his hands without hurting them further, Jorgen took Cosmo and Wanda and ascended back into the twisting cloud of magic. Returning himself and the godparents to Fairy World…
Jorgen grimaced, looking on as Denzel continue to twitch on the wooden floor until his scrawny body grew still with the blanket stare. His mind knew that he was sent to do a job, the crevice of his heart hated that he had to do it. Denzel was obviously not happy and still needed his godparents. However, had Denzel not sacrificed his fairies that day, Cosmo and Wanda may not have lived to be Timmy Turner's godparents.
He turned his contemplative gaze to the green parakeet and pink galah…frowning at their lifeless bodies on the bed. Even to this day, Jorgen believed that Denzel should not have been punished for selflessness. What kid forgoes his own happiness for the lives of his fairies? Yet, as Commander of Fairies and Keeper of the Rules, he had a job to do. Just as he was once again ordered to wipe what little recollection Denzel had regained of ever having fairy godparents.
Inner conflict groaned under a begruntled breath. First, he had to gather those four godkids and their fairies, and now this. All the while, the Council were tightlipped on their intentions. What the heck was he running around doing all of this for? What did the Council have up their sleeves, and why were they so secretive about it?
No matter. This was not the time nor place to dwell.
With a tap of his staff, The Fairy Commander vanished in another mushroom cloud. Leaving the catatonic man on the floor, a silent tear trickling from the corner of his blank stare.
Grey clouds weighted with the darkness enveloped early morning skies, casting the rooftop of Dimmsdale Elementary in a nightly shadow. Clusters of students entered into classroom #44, taking their respective seats with some friend groups still engaged in casual conversation.
"You think Crocker's gonna come back today?" Chester asked, taking his seat behind the desk of his pink-hatted best friend.
"No idea." Timmy shrugged, sporting his green and pink wristbands as he removed his pink winter coat to hang behind his chair. Whether Crockpot came back this week or the next, his somber mood didn't care either way.
Making his way to his desk, AJ observed the platinum blonde beside him. Preoccupied with her nose buried in a science textbook, her indigo necklace dangling from her neck. He just couldn't understand what he did to make her angry with him, and if Timmy had trouble getting her to talk, what luck did he have?
"…whatcha studying?" he still made an attempt for cordiality. Maybe if he eased his way in, she might be receptive.
Chloe's concentration never strayed from the words of her textbook, giving no indication that she heard him. She did hear him, yet she chose not to acknowledge him. Between Dwight's disappearance and her parents' tarnished marriage due to her incompetencies, she had enough grinding at her nerves without Alvin Jr's pestering.
"…Chloe?" he tried again, though she held the coldest shoulder to him.
With his chin resting on folded arms, the young billionaire tuned out side-conversations. Noting the brewing storm through the classroom window, he then glanced down at the purple watch who'd barely spoken a word all morning.
There'd been times that Remy had noticed small moments of Juandissimo entrapped in his own thoughts. sinking the suspicion that his godfather was keeping something from him. At the same time, he knew he wouldn't get a straight answer if he'd asked, because he still couldn't give a straight answer whenever Juandissimo would question his wellbeing.
The school bell resonated through the halls and the walls of the classroom, quieting conversations when Dimmsdale Elementary's academic overseer opened the door. Worry lines wrinkled her forehead, entering with shoulders slouched dishearteningly.
Students watched her shut the door, morose in her strides until she stopped in front of Mr. Crocker's desk. Facing the classroom with a furrowed brow and downturned corners of her pink lipstick. After scanning the room for any other volunteers, Sanjay chose to raise an awkward hand "…is something the matter, Principal?"
Principal Waxelplax inhaled a shaky breath, releasing it as her hands clasped together over her stomach. Straightening her posture as hints of despondency still trickled into her announcement "…I'm afraid that Mr. Crocker will be out once again."
Following the same suit as the friend to his left, Elmer too raised a gawky hand "…will he be back next week?"
Pressing her lips, Principal Waxelplax cleared the urge to lament in her throat "…Mr. Crocker will not be returning for the rest of the school year."
Low chatter of guesses and assumptions erupted. A bunch of random kids go missing, and now their teacher's MIA?
Unsure of what to make of this, Remy shot puzzled eyes to the front row of the class, seeing Chloe's equally baffled gaze over her shoulder. Chloe then turned to the pink-hatted boy a desk or so to her right, seeing his mystified stare towards her. Utterly confused, Timmy glanced down at his wrists, seeing the pink and green perplexed expressions of his fairy godparents.
What the heck was happening?
AN: This is (obviously) an AU series, and I wanted a narrative that the show's origin of Denzel Crocker didn't really fit. So yeah.