Timmy Turner Costume Novels & Stories

“Tomorrow, when the initiation of…what’s his name again?” “Taribo,” Timmy’s invisible double quickly interjected. “…the real Timmy will get an additional seven years…so he’ll die at fifty-six, if he cannot get another initiate…” She proceeded to the section which was mostly occupied by the invisible doubles of foreigners, as her eyes surveyed every nook and cranny of the marine sphere. A strange aura seemed to be present wherever her feet treaded upon. Timmy’s invisible double was simply awed by her beauty, and did not realise when she disappeared and appeared at the watery altar. She continued looking around, while her jet black hair shone on her head.

Rome would be the last person on earth Tim would want her speaking to. The mask he was going to wear was laying on his dresser. He’d picked it up from a costume store on his way home from his latest audition. The mask covered his eyes and nose. It was a dark blue with gold around the rim. He figured he’d still be fairly recognizable unless he did his hair differently. Rather than parting it so that half of it fell over his eye and the rest spiked on top of his head, he decided to comb it all flat tonight and slick it back. He should’ve told Ella so she’d know what to look for, but part of him was excited to see if she could figure out who he was.

she’d say softly before returning to her pages. "I am, Mother," the ghost of his younger self responded, giggling. "Sir? Sir Dorian?" The voice of the staffer beside him snapped the thread of the daydream. Timothy blinked, the vibrant colours of the memory fading into the harsh reality of the present. The staffer was holding out a hand for the keys, looking at Tim with a mixture of confusion and concern. "The keys," Tim said, his voice suddenly cold, handing them over without looking at the man. He straightened his spine, the "Dorian" armour locking back into place. He wasn't the boy chasing butterflies anymore. He was the storm that had come to reclaim the valley.

I said, and he nodded, knowing arguing was pointless. I crouched down, pulling a small knife from my pocket and cutting the zip ties binding his wrists. Timothy flexed his fingers, wincing as the circulation returned. "We don't have much time," I whispered, keeping my expression neutral. "You have to act the part. Don't do anything stupid," I mouthed. “You really think that monster is going to buy this?” Timothy asked as I united him. “If you act your part right, there's no reason he won't,”

The idea of getting wet and sandy seemed impractical in my current attire. Timothy, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to me and said, "Who said you had to be dressed for the beach to enjoy it?" Without further explanation, he sprinted toward the water and, with a joyful whoop, jumped right in, fully clothed. I watched in amazement as Timothy emerged from the waves, water dripping from his soaked clothes. His laughter echoed through the salt-kissed air, and his face was illuminated with a childlike exuberance.

/-Raven-/ “I understand you want to see him, Raven, but trust me, now is not a good time. We will see him later, just not now, please,” Tim pleaded. “Come with me to the barracks.” “Why?” I asked him. “Won't your soldiers try to hunt me?” “You once hid in the barracks and no one had any idea you were there. You can do it again. I just need to get you a costume. You stay in my room because no one else has access to it,” he said and I nodded.

Mary’s not waving the cleavers quite so threateningly, and Timothy now looks like a human who’s climbed out of a bog, rather than a bog that’s walking around with a human head. Tim is also looking slightly more bemused than angry and suspicious. “You… found a bunch of people whose first reaction on meeting an angry swamp monster is to… threaten it with a water pistol?” “I found Packmates who are all just as strange as I am, yes,” I say, answering the real question behind the words. “Timothy, just ask Blackmarsh to pull all the mud and stuff off you back into the marsh. Those are tadpoles on your shoulder, they’ll die if they dry out. And that’s your best hacking jacket. Tony and Katie will m