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Chapter Text

Lounging on Cosmo and Wanda’s couch, Hazel flipped through the program for the 46th Dimmadelphia Film Festival. It had arrived or perhaps been poofed into their mailbox that day, and the idea of a film festival she could attend was exciting. She, Jasmine, and Winn skimmed through film blurbs in search of ones they might be interested in seeing.

“This one has a Q&A afterward with the director,” Hazel said. “The Mist-Gate, directed by Timmy Turner.”

“Timmy!?” Cosmo and Wanda exclaimed in unison. Their clasped hands and wide, shimmering eyes seemed telling.

“Whoa! Do you know him?” Hazel asked.

“Know him? He was our last godchild!” Cosmo said.

“We wouldn’t have Peri without him!” Wanda added.

“Wow, now I’m even more interested in this movie!” Hazel said. “The plot summary says: ‘In this indie dark fantasy throwback, a tween girl accidentally crosses a boundary into a magical realm, and adopts a pair of fae-rental figures to help find her way home.’”

“Ooh, a dark fantasy throwback,” Cosmo said.

“I'm a little surprised,” Wanda remarked. “That's not really the kind of movie I would have expected Timmy to direct. Then again, he had matured a lot by the time we parted ways.”

“Timmy directed a movie!?” Peri exclaimed, having just entered.

“Apparently, this is his second one,” Jasmine said, having looked him up on her phone. “He’s directed some short films and music videos, too.”

“You know, I remember him making a bunch of shorts in his later high school years,” Peri said. “But, uh… I kinda wasn’t expecting that to lead to an actual career in film.”

“He went to film school!” Cosmo said.

“That’s why he was making those shorts,” Wanda added.

“I don’t remember anything about his college application process!” Peri said. “I just remember visiting schools with him.”

“Would you want to see it, Peri?” Winn asked. Peri was silent for a moment and seemed deep in thought.

“…Yes,” he said.

The day Timmy’s film screened, Cosmo and Wanda chaperoned Hazel, Jasmine, and Winn. Peri, who still did not have a human disguise, rode in his mother’s shirt pocket. The film followed Thomasina, an average kid no one understood–perhaps a result of her unusual name–who accidentally crossed a boundary between earth and a magical realm. At first, she found the circumstances fun, but soon realized the realm was more dangerous than she could handle, and that she missed her family. She befriended a fairy named Cecil, whose poor advice was offset by his good heart, and later befriended a fairy named Wilda, the Queen of the Forest. When Thomasina finally found the gate home, she lamented that she would miss Cecil and Wilda. The fairies reassured her that the realm would always be part of her, and bid her goodbye.

While it wasn’t the most original idea, Hazel did like the execution. It had scary parts–she and Winn held Jasmine’s hands to reassure her–and a real sense of danger and emotion. There were some elaborate set pieces considering the budget, and Hazel enjoyed being able to identify various stones (the Heart of the Forest was a cluster of selenite). The best part was the relationship between the characters.

“That was so good!” Hazel said as the lights came up. The group stayed seated for the Q&A.

James from the Dimmsonian climbed the stairs leading to the narrow stage in front of the screen while festival volunteers brought up two metal folding chairs. He picked up a microphone.

“Good evening everyone, welcome,” he said. “My name is James, I’m the Programming Manager for the Film Festival.” He went on with his introduction, and Hazel looked over at Cosmo and Wanda. They were leaning into one another, doe eyed. Peri, still in Wanda’s pocket, dabbed at his eyes with a hanky.

“Please welcome to the stage: director Timmy Turner!” James said. Hazel turned her attention back to the stage and joined the applause. A man stepped out of the audience and jogged up to the stage. He was muscular and had a shoulder-length mullet. He flopped into the flimsy metal chair, crossing his legs and slinging one arm over the backrest.

“It’s him!” Cosmo and Wanda said, and grabbed each other’s hands.

Timmy Turner picked up the microphone and belched.

“Excuse me,” he said. A few people in the audience laughed, and others cheered. Peri clapped politely in Wanda’s pocket.

“Wow, he even excused himself!” Cosmo whispered to Wanda.

“Oh, he’s so grown up!” Wanda replied.

“As the lights came up, I realized I still had some of my soda left, and it was only after I chugged it that it occurred to me, ‘They probably would have let me drink it up here,’” Timmy said.

“Yes,” James said. “So, Timmy, thank you for being here. To begin with: there's a bit of a gap between this film and your first. Something like six or seven years. Want to talk about why that is?”

“Sure! So, immediately after the premier of my first feature film, my wife told me she was pregnant, and we wound up having twins,” Timmy said. The crowd applauded. 

“Do they get along?” James asked.

“Like peas in a pod,” Timmy replied, nodding. “So I was busy with that and mainly working from home. The other reason is because we struggled a lot with the development of this film. Mostly the budget. Midway through I had to crowdfund so we could finish it. But it worked out.”

“Didn't it get picked up by Dimmadome Pictures?”

“No, Dimmadome Pictures bought the distribution rights after it was finished. So it'll be shown in way more theaters than it would have been in otherwise,” Timmy said. “I didn’t get a Dimmadime to make it.”

“How did you pull that off?”

“Dale Dimmadome called me. I did a real life spit-take. I was like, ‘How did you get this number?’ But the answer is in the question, obviously,” Timmy said. “I’ve met him a handful of times. I really don’t know him well. So I was shocked when he offered to distribute. I was like, ‘My movies don’t make money!’ But, I mean, I’m grateful, for sure. He called it ‘returning the favor’ for something I did for him a long time ago; I won’t get into specifics. It’ll probably help a lot with whatever my next project is.”

“How about we open up questions from the audience?” James said. “Please line up over here.” He gestured to one of the aisles. A festival volunteer hurried over with another microphone as people began to line up.

“Hi, my name is John,” the first guest said. “I want to know what are the benefits to making a film independently of a big studio? What are the downsides?”

“The biggest ‘pro’ to making an indie film is the creative control,” Timmy said. “I’ve worked on studio films–not as a director, obviously, but I was there–and I saw promising films get destroyed by studio interference. The biggest ‘con’ to independent filmmaking is the budget. But there are lots of pros and cons to both.”

“Next question,” James said.

“How are you a grown man still going by ‘Timmy’?” the next guest asked. Timmy laughed, along with much of the audience.

“Listen, man! I’ve tried to get people to just call me ‘Tim’,” he said. “It doesn’t work. People do not want to call me Tim. At best, they’re like, ‘You got it, Timmy!’”

Hazel wanted someone to ask more about the filmmaking process, but the thought of getting up in front of everybody and asking kept her rooted firmly to her chair.

“Your films–I’ve seen several of your shorts, too–have some really great kid performances. Child acting can be super hit or miss; how do you get good performances from kids?”

“Part of that is just auditioning kids from a wide variety of backgrounds,” Timmy said. “But another thing, I think, is, like… Being a kid can be really frustrating. Grown-ups don’t take your thoughts, feelings, and problems seriously. So the secret, in my opinion, is just treating kids like people.”

“I guess the big question now is: what next?” asked the final guest.

“Ooh, that is a big question,” Timmy said. “I’ve got a few ideas. And I might just end up having a decent budget this time! I might do a documentary. I’ve done a few short docs, but I’d like to do a feature.”

“That’s about all the time we have,” James said. “Timmy, thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for having me,” Timmy said. “Am I allowed to tell the audience to vote for my movie?”

“As long as you don’t offer any bribes, it’s fine,” James said.

“Hope this doesn’t count as bribery!” Timmy said as he stood and ripped his shirt off, revealing another shirt underneath that read VOTE THE MIST GATE FOR BEST FEATURE! The audience erupted into cheers as he struck bodybuilder poses. “Thank you, good night!”

That night, after taking the kids home, Peri included, Cosmo and Wanda went to a Film Festival members’ event: Movie Karaoke at the Yakitori Lounge. In the lobby of the movie theater, they overheard that Timmy would be there. They knew they were playing with fire, going to an event Timmy was also present at. But Cosmo and Wanda could not pass up the opportunity for karaoke.

They performed “You’re the One That I Want” from Grease, and by the final chorus, many patrons were singing along with varied success depending on how many beers they had consumed. Cosmo and Wanda sat back down to eat as much yakitori as they possibly could when someone approached their table.

“Excuse me, but–” Timmy started.

“Hi, Timmy!” Cosmo and Wanda both chorused. Timmy looked momentarily confused before remembering he had given a live Q&A earlier in the day.

“Hey, um, this is maybe a weird question, but did you guys work at Dimmsdale Elementary?” Timmy asked. Cosmo and Wanda stammered, glancing at one another.

“N-no, but we, uh, we lived in Dimmsdale for, uh. A while,” Wanda said.

“Yeah, we were… around,” Cosmo agreed. Timmy quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh, okay. Well, here’s an even weirder question: do you remember a man named Denzel Crocker?” he asked.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Yeah, who could forget, right?” Timmy scratched his chin. “I hadn’t thought about him in years, but I remembered him recently. I guess because my film has fairies in it. I’ve been wanting to reach out, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’m surprised you would want to,” Wanda said.

“Yeah, he hated you!” Cosmo agreed. “Like, more than he hated anyone else!”

“I know. But there’s something that always kinda fascinated me about him. I almost want to make a documentary. I dunno if anyone would watch it, or if he’d even agree to that. I don’t know how I’d convince him I’m not out to humiliate him,” Timmy said. “But I want to do it for, like, closure, or something.”

“Well, if nothing else, I’m sure he’d be happy just to have somebody to talk to,” Wanda said.

“We know how you can get in contact with him,” Cosmo said. “He lives right here in Dimmadelphia, and he works as a janitor at the Galax Institute.”

“Really?” Timmy said. He tilted his beer glass side to side. “I might actually do it.”

“We look forward to seeing it, if you do,” Wanda said. “We loved The Mist-Gate.”

“Thanks, I’m glad to hear it!” Timmy said. “A lot of people have compared it to things like The Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland, and those were definitely influences. But the main thing I drew on were the magical adventures I would imagine going on as a kid.”

“Oh?” Wanda said.

“Yeah. Almost all of my films end up being about my childhood in some way. My first feature, Agnes Out of Time, is a time travel movie, but my thought process was like… trying to understand my parents. And in making The Mist-Gate, I was thinking about my childhood and my kids’.”

“How are your kids?” Cosmo asked. Timmy brightened.

“They’re annoyed at me for going out of town,” he said. “And if I make this documentary, they’ll be even more annoyed at me.” Without being asked, Timmy whipped out his phone and turned it to face Cosmo and Wanda. On the screen was a photo of a little boy and girl standing in front of a garden. Both resembled Timmy a great deal. Cosmo and Wanda cooed at the sight.

“I’ve become such a sap since they were born,” Timmy said. “I showed them The Wizard of Oz recently and they both went, ‘Whoa!’ when the movie transitions to color. And I found myself getting teary-eyed because I was like, ‘This is it! This is what film means to me!’”

“I know just how you feel,” Cosmo said. “I got waaay more sappy and emotional after our son was born.”

“You were already sappy and emotional, Cosmo,” Wanda said with a smirk, and gave him a playful poke in his side. Cosmo giggled.

“Cosmo?” Timmy said, and for a fraction of a second, there was a flash of recognition in his eyes. Cosmo and Wanda froze, wide-eyed. Timmy’s brow furrowed, and magic sparkled around his eyes. He shook his head. “Sorry. I lost my train of thought.”

“We were talking about our kids,” Wanda said, carefully.

“Although ours isn’t really a kid anymore,” Cosmo said. “He’s a grown-up with a job now.”

“Man, I was thinking about that recently,” Timmy said. “When my kids started kindergarten, I was like, ‘I’m totally not gonna cry about this. School sucks and I hated it.’ And then I said goodbye on their first day of school, got in my car, and cried.” He laughed. “You always hear, ‘They grow up so fast,’ and I was like, ‘Oh, my God, they actually do.’”

“Yeah,” Cosmo and Wanda agreed, wistfully. Timmy looked at his phone and frowned.

“I should get back to my hotel. I’ve got a long drive tomorrow,” he said. “Well, nice talking to you. Thanks for coming to my movie.”

Unable to stop themselves, Cosmo and Wanda swept Timmy up into a big hug. He tensed, startled, but a moment later hugged them back.

Chapter Text

Timmy had been lying a little when he told that nice older couple at the Yakitori Lounge his goal wasn’t to humiliate Crocker. He had long pitied Crocker–who was nothing if not pitiful–but Crocker had gone out of his way to make life hell well past the time Timmy finished the fifth grade. So maybe he did want to mock him, just a little. At the very least, he wanted to make him feel bad.

Timmy pulled up outside Crocker's dilapidated row house. The porch sagged and the roof was crumbling. There was one boarded up window, and the grass of the meager lawn was overgrown. He thought for a moment about starting the car again and driving home. His kids would be irritated at him if he arrived past their bedtime.

Timmy opened the rusted screen door and rang the doorbell. A brass lion knocker scowled back at him. After a moment, the door opened a crack, held by a sliding chain lock.

“Hello?” Crocker said, peering through the space.

“Mr. Crocker! Remember me? It's Timmy Turner,” he said. Crocker's single visible eye went wide.

“Turner!” He slammed the door shut, and undid the sliding lock. The door opened wider. Crocker wore a long fur coat with a silk scarf tied over his head. He glared at Timmy. “What do you want? How did you find me here?”

“I asked where to find the crazy fairy guy and everyone told me, ‘He lives at 105 Bainbury.’ I wanted to talk to you,” Timmy said.

“Talk about what?”

“I think it might be better to discuss over coffee or something,” Timmy said.

“Coffee?” Crocker turned his head away suspiciously. “No one ever asks me for coffee.”

“Or lunch or whatever.”

“No one asks me to lunch either!” Crocker said. “This improbable setup could only be the work of… FAIRIES!”

“All right, look. If I had fairy godparents as a kid, I don't anymore,” Timmy said.

“That's true, you would be too old by now,” Crocker said, scratching thoughtfully at his chin. He looked disappointed.

“I’ll level with you. I tracked you down because you had a major impact on my life,” Timmy said. He leaned against the doorframe. “I’m a filmmaker now and I want to make a documentary about you.”

“A documentary!?” Crocker exclaimed. “About me? What, do you plan on exposing my wretched life? Doing interviews with everyone who's ever met me to talk about how crazy I am?”

“No, nothing like that. I'm not looking to interview any talking heads,” Timmy said. “What I have in mind is more direct cinema. I want it to be you in your own words.”

“Me in my own words?” Crocker repeated. He crossed his arms. “This sounds like a lot of baloney.”

“You don't have to decide this second. You can think it over and get back to me,” Timmy said. Crocker glanced away and tapped his foot.

“What's in it for me?”

“You'll get paid.”

“Hmm… I'll think about it,” Crocker said.

“I'll give you my–” Timmy said as Crocker closed the door. He sighed and lifted the mail slot to chuck his business card through. He was about to step off the rickety porch when the front door slammed open again.

“Turner! I've thought about it and I've decided I'll make this documentary with you,” Crocker said.

“Okay, I'll have my lawyer write up a contract–” Timmy started, and Crocker slammed the door shut again. “All right.” He went back to his car, already mentally planning out his next steps.

“I’m still thinking about that movie,” Winn said as the children waited for class to start the next morning. Hazel nodded enthusiastically.

“Wilda was my favorite,” Jasmine said. “I felt safer whenever she showed up.”

“I liked those weird tree guys,” Winn said.

“Maybe this is a boring choice, but Thomasina was my favorite character,” Hazel said.

“No, Thomasina was cool!” Jasmine said. “She was a great protagonist.”

“Yeah, I loved her,” Winn agreed. “She kinda reminded me of you.”

“Speaking of which, did anyone else get the sense that, um, the two fairies in the movie kind of resembled…” Jasmine trailed off as the three looked over at Cosmo and Wanda, currently disguised as a pencil and eraser on Hazel's desk.

“So, kids who lose their godparents have their memories erased,” Hazel said, lowering her voice. “Does that also happen to kids who outgrow their fairies?”

“Yes,” Cosmo and Wanda replied.

“Timmy doesn’t remember us. Not really,” Cosmo said.

“He saved Fairy World and also the earth multiple times,” Wanda said. “So the Fairy Council may have been lenient with his memories. It seems like he remembers our adventures as having been imagination games.”

“I’ve encountered two former godchildren of yours now,” Hazel said. “That’s kind of crazy.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Wanda agreed.

Mr. Guzman entered and started class, and the kids paused their conversation. In the back of her mind, Hazel kept turning to film. Hazel had long considered herself a cineaste (a word she learned from a book on the history of horror film) and the fact her fairies’ previous godchild grew up to be a filmmaker intrigued her.

Jasmine and Winn, it turned out, were interested, too. After school, the kids hung out in Hazel’s room, looking through Timmy Turner’s website on a laptop Wanda poofed up. The site's primary color scheme was pink and white. Winn opened a list of pages and clicked the “about” section.

The most jacked indie director in Hollywood.

Timothy Tiberius “Timmy” Turner is a screenwriter and director originally from Dimmsdale, California. He made movies throughout his childhood on his dad's video camera and started thinking about film seriously as a career in high school. He has directed five short films (if you include the stuff from high school), several commercials and music videos, two feature films, and is working on a third. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and twin son and daughter. Yes, those are his real teeth.

The website had a section of films and other work available to watch for free. Some of the videos were from TooYube, with the oldest being a five-minute documentary on the skater scene in Dimmsdale, posted to the site seventeen years earlier.

“You know what we should do?” Hazel said. Winn and Jasmine looked at her. “We should make our own movie!”

“Yeah!” Winn and Jasmine agreed.

“Cosmo, Wanda! I wish I had a state-of-the-art movie camera!” Hazel said. Cosmo and Wanda raised their wands, and a large, clunky thirty-five millimeter camera appeared in her hands. Hazel shifted her weight, struggling to hold it. “Uh, I wish I had a lighter camera!” The 35 millimeter turned into a digital camcorder.

“It’s still state-of-the-art, just smaller!” Wanda said as Hazel flicked through different settings. Winn and Jasmine watched over her shoulder. “So, what do you want to make a movie about?”

“Uh…”

“Er…”

“Umm…”

 “This is always the hardest part,” Cosmo said.