Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Vee stared at the lifeless body of Sprout in shock.

The strawberry looked just as inanimate as his beloved scarf that had been carelessly thrown onto the dirty ground beside him. His eyes were tightly shut, and his mouth was slightly agape.

“What did he do to you?” Vee asked, her robotic voice barely more than a whisper. She fell to her dark gray knees and shakily wrapped her hand around his in vain.

Before she could utter another word, a voice spoke from in front of her. Malice dripped like honey from its saccharine tone. “Is that really the question you want to ask? Shouldn’t you be asking, oh, I don’t know, what I’ll do to you?”

Vee snapped to attention and stared at the Toon in front of her. “What are you talking about? You promised me you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“Gosh, you’re so naive,” Dandy tutted. He wore an expression of disappointment that quickly shifted into a sneer once he glanced at Sprout. “He was so adamant about being the hero. It’s a shame, really. I mean, he could have been so helpful to me!”

Green furrowed brows appeared on Vee’s screen by habit, displaying her apparent anger. “He never would have helped you.”

“Hmm, well, you don’t know that. But it doesn’t matter now! They’re all dead!” The crazed look in his wide eyes was infinitely more frightening than the sudden level of madness in his voice.

Without any weapon to defend herself, Vee was forced to slowly step away from Dandy, her legs shaking with every step. “It can’t be. You… You’re lying.” She took another deep breath—only audibly, though, as her biomechanical form had no need to breathe. “It can’t be,” she said with a very flat tone.

Dandy blinked, clearly confused by her abrupt change in mood. He looked around as if the answer he wanted was laying on the kitchen counters beside them. “Vee?”

A few seconds passed before she raised her hands to her mouth. “I mean, uhm, it can’t be! You’re lying!” she exclaimed with much more strained emotion than before.

“No, no, it’s more like, uh, denial. Like you really can’t believe what I’m saying,” Dandy offered. The venom from his voice had disappeared almost entirely; his expression had changed as well.

Vee took his words into consideration and frowned. “Hmm… It can’t be! You’re lying!”

Dandy shook his head. “Now it sounds sarcastic.”

“...It can’t be? You’re lying?”

“It’s not a question.”

Vee buried her screen in her hands, utterly embarrassed. After a few seconds, she decided to sit down on the nearest plastic chair. “I think I need a break.”

The other chair beside her squeaked in movement, and she soon felt a comfortingly warm hand on her shoulder. “Acting takes practice, Vee! Try and imagine it’s just like those old skits we had to do for the kids!”

“It’s not that. Sprout’s never had to play dead for one of those, but he can do it really well.” She glanced over at the strawberry and added, “You can get up, Sprout. We’re... taking a break.”

Immediately after she spoke, he sprung up like an elastic band, grabbed his iconic scarf, and sat down next to them. “My back hurts!”

Vee chuckled. “How do you stay so still? You’re usually so energetic.”

Sprout thought about the query for quite a while. “I just try and take a nap and pretend it’s my bed. Maybe you should try and pretend that… uhm… well, you don't really sleep, so maybe try pretending that I ran out of battery! Actually, maybe don't do that.”

“I don't think visualizing is for me. What about you, Dandy? How do you act so well?” she asked, turning to look at the flower.

Dandy animatedly tapped his chin in thought. “Hmm… It’s kinda hard to explain. I think I’ve acted so much that I just automatically change to the role now. Like, I’ll read the script and just… figure it out from there!”

“Yeah, what he said!” Sprout nodded, nudging Vee to agree with them. “We can totally help you with any practice you need, so don’t be afraid to ask!” 

Vee looked to her left and right and smiled. Their advice was far from helpful, but their support meant everything to her. “Thanks, you two. What in the world would I do without my best actor friends?”

Sprout brought a hand to his face and looked away, pretending to be embarrassed. “Heh, you’re too kind!”

As the two boys fell into the familiar rhythm of chatting on and on about whatever came to their minds, Vee looked down at her gray hands. She had memorized the entire script word-for-word, but no memorization would stop her voice from sounding less robotic. The least she could do, she decided, was try for those who counted on her.

“Hey,” Dandy suddenly began, “have you guys even seen Poppy practice her lines at all? She’s playing the main role, isn’t she?”

“She probably thinks she doesn’t need to practice,” Sprout offered. “She’s always… uhm… well…”

“Cocksure? Conceited? Overweening?” Vee suggested.

The two gave her a blank stare of confusion. “Over… what?”

“It means a very confident person, to an extent. Poppy’s great, but I don’t think her ‘perfectness’ gives her an excuse to not practice,” Vee explained. She didn’t dislike the bubble, but she often thought that her conceited nature wasn’t the most helpful thing in the world.

Sprout thought about her words for a moment. “I dunno… If she says she can memorize it all without practice, I think she can!” There was no scrap of distrust in his tone. Vee wondered if the strawberry hated anyone in Gardenview. She doubted it.

With a smile, Dandy stood up and pushed the small chair away from the table. “Well, I gotta go, guys. Boxten said he had something to discuss with me… I hope I’m not in trouble!”

Vee waved her friend goodbye, but the moment he was out of sight, shared a glance with Sprout. Conversations with Boxten were something the two of them were all-too-familiar with.

Chapter Text

Goob was forcibly woken up from his reposeful slumber by a plastic cup smacking his face.

For a second, he thought the attack was from within the dream he was enjoying. Once his eyes groggily opened and he focused on his surroundings, the red cup persisted as the sleep melted away, erasing the idea.

As expected, at the foot of his bed lied Scraps, his sister. The feline craft was curled up and snoozing on a pile of multicolored yarn that Goob would have called impressive, had he cared about collecting like she did. Her plastic cup laid on his chest, occasionally stirring in her sleep.

In a moment of unbridled immaturity, Goob pushed Scraps off of the pile and onto the yellow carpet below them. She quickly opened her eyes and yelped as she tumbled onto the ground. “Goob! Why did you push me off?!”

“Your tail woke me up first,” he calmly replied. He was aware that the pushing was overkill, but when it came to sibling rivalries, the two had long decided that overkill was necessary.

Scraps clearly didn’t see his point, as her tail flicked angrily in response once she stood up. “I’ll have you know that I was dreaming about the greatest collection I’ve ever seen! It was full of–”

“Wait,” Goob interrupted. “You dream about stealing? Don’t you have enough stuff?” He gestured expectantly to the mess behind her.

The bedroom the two shared was perfect evidence of their differences. Goob’s side felt just as introverted as he was: any objects he was fond of were safely tucked away in his closet, or laying on the carmine red beanbag that looked lovingly worn, like a book that had been opened one too many times. A poster of his likeness was plastered on the wall behind him, with text he had memorized over the years: “Goob is one shy craft! Despite that, he loves to spend time with his friends! He can always be seen bickering with his sister Scraps! Goob teaches children that a soft hug is one of the best medicines for a frown!” He never fully agreed with the messages it alluded to.

Scraps’ side was the complete opposite. Miscellaneous items covered the floor, closet, and every other surface that was open; there weren’t many spaces left. The piles consisted of suspiciously old candy, crumpled paper, spare valves, episode tapes, and any other personal item she could get her claws on. There was no rhyme or reason to the piles—they simply existed, as if actively wanting to be the definition of chaos. Even Scraps’ bed had a few objects scattered on top of the red blanket.

Scraps looked at her room with a neutral expression, like the mess was invisible to her. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I don’t steal, I borrow. And I can never have enough stuff!” she exclaimed. With that, she stormed off and heading towards the direction of the elevator.

Goob watched her go with a raised eyebrow. He often made comments about her bad habits, but from what he could recall, she had never listened to him.

Once Goob heard the opening of the elevator echo through the halls, he stood up and grabbed a small book from his closet.

The Gardenview Library wasn’t the most popular attraction in the building, but it certainly was one of Goob’s favorites. It occupied a small space in one of the many floors, and held a seemingly endless array of books. Some Goob did not care for—he much preferred the long and entertaining chapter books that lied between the boring articles and the daunting classics—but he respected anyone who cared to visit.

After wandering around the maze-like shelves for a while, Goob found his targets: three Toons nestled between stacks of books. They had built themselves a make-shift fort using whatever bedding they could find, which included a few marketable plushies that resembled their friends.

“Oh, Goob! You’re early this time,” Teagan commented, setting aside a book that, judging from the cover, looked like it was about cooking. She crossed her legs and brought a quaint cup of tea to her mouth. “Did you bring a book?”

Goob walked over and sat down on her right. “I did. It’s a fantasy novel I found here, and I wanted to read it, but I just couldn’t find the time for it.”

The other Toon in the fort picked up a cup from the tea tray and passed it over to his conjoined twin. “I found a poetry book I had been looking for. I thought I lost it.”

“The one by that author you really like?” Teagan asked.

Razzle nodded. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting all week.”

“So have I!” Dazzle, the ever-enthusiastic comedy mask, added with a sip of tea. 

Goob raised an eyebrow at the statement. “You fall asleep every meeting.”

Teagan chuckled at the response. She smoothed out her golden pleated skirt and fluffed her white scarf out of habit as the club got settled into their usual positions.

Goob never understood why so many Toons disliked the idea of the Book Club he was in. Moments of peace were few and far-between in Gardenview, and the club offered solace and quiet when there was none to be found. He loved the bibliosmia that wafted around him—in moderation—while he explored a world he was unfamiliar with inside of a book.

After a few moments, he looked up and watched his fellow club members read for a moment. Teagan looked utterly engrossed in her recipes, though Goob wondered if she was only looking at the drinks section. Dazzle had fallen asleep a few minutes before, but Razzle continued to read happily. The sight was rare.

Eventually, the hours passed, and the tea and snacks had run out. None of the members wanted the hour to end, but they all felt the gnawing of hunger begin to grow.

Teagan, the president and founder of the club, spoke up first. “Alright everyone… Today’s meeting is over!” She stood up and walked out of the fort, placing her book neatly on one of the shelves. “Dazzle?”

Razzle nudged the mask. “...You awake?”

“Huh?! Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m awake!”

Goob stood up and walked over to Teagan. “What flavors were the tea you served us? I feel like they’re new.”

“Ah, well, it’s not actually new,” she explained, walking towards the library’s exit. “I’ve always defaulted to sugar, but I’m trying different things, like honey. Does it taste better?”

“I think it tastes about the same,” he replied honestly.

Before Goob could follow Teagan through the double doors of the library, Razzle laid a white hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “Goob, I was, uhm, meaning to tell you something.”

“...Yes?”

“Your sister got into a fight with Astro yesterday!" interrupted Dazzle.

Goob brought a hand to his forehead and sighed, grasping at the long strands of fur on his head. “Take me to her, please.”

Chapter Text

For her entire life, Poppy had strived to be perfect. The fact had been predetermined long before she had first opened her eyes. It was written in her very soul.

Therefore, her expectations for things were higher than the norm; they were much higher when in regards to a personal project of hers.

“More emotion!” she shouted through her bright red megaphone. “Where’s that energy, Finn?”

The fishbowl in question turned towards her and scowled. “You can’t expect me to give a five-star performance for something I don’t want to do.”

“Pretend it’s an episode!” Poppy suggested, resting her knees on the armrest. “Or whatever helps!”

“You’re dodging the question.”

She dropped the megaphone onto the floor. “Technically, that wasn’t a question.”

Finn sighed loudly. “Just because I like acting doesn’t mean I want to do it for a play. There’s a difference. Don’t you have, like, ten other Toons helping out? I’m far too busy for this.”

The reminder of her understaffed crew brought a frown to her face, but she quickly dismissed the thought. “A lot of my actors are… struggling. Like Bee.”

“You mean Vee?” Finn asked. He took a long sip of the soda bottle in his hands, causing the liquid in his head to dilute into a slight brown for a moment. Then, he swallowed, and the liquid returned to its original clear state. “I bet she’s horrible at it,” he added with a nonchalant adjustment to the black bow on his chest.

“She’s not horrible, don’t say that. She’s just, well, in need of someone perfect like me to help! And you don’t have to worry about anything; you don’t have any scenes with your little rival in the play,” Poppy assured.

Finn bristled. “She’s not my rival,” he growled. “I just don’t get–”

“Don’t get why she’s a Main Character, and you’re not?” Poppy interrupted with a knowing tone. “We’ve had this conversation before, and again, we can’t change that sort of thing. Take a look at me, for example. I’m perfect in every way, and I’m only deemed a ‘Side Character’. Does that lessen my level of perfection? Not at all!”

“It also doesn’t lessen your ego, or your obsession with bows,” he teased, a grin reappearing on his face. 

Poppy rolled her eyes. Although she most definitely was wearing a large pink bow that held her low bubble-like bun—coupled with the assortment of smaller bows that lined her dress, which was a new addition for the day—she never thought of it as an obsession. Her daily routine of putting on her pink blush and eyeshadow took much longer, regardless of whether there was an event happening that day or not. “You’re wearing a bow, too. It’s even connected to those straps on your lifejacket!”

Before Finn could come up with some sort of sassy comeback that suited his need for them, the two heard a sudden spurt of unrecognizable shouting coming from the elevator. Poppy, being a lover of all kinds of gossip and drama, immediately headed over to see the scene, with Finn right behind her.

“GIVE. IT. BACK!”

“No way! Finders keepers, and losers weepers!”

“IT’S MINE!”

Poppy approached the two eristic Toons with her hands on her hips, already amused. “What’s going on?”

Scraps flicked her tail angrily. “I just wanted to borrow this cap, but Mr. Protective over here got mad at me. It’s just one hat; you have, like, a million!”

In front of the craft was Astro, who looked infuriated—though Poppy considered that expression his usual one. His arms were completely concealed by his blanket, but his telekinetic cyan stars held their strong grip on the sleeping cap Scraps had snatched. “I HATE WHEN PEOPLE STEAL MY STUFF!” he yelled.

“Borrowing,” Scraps repeated, blowing a raspberry. Her gesture was cut short as his cyan stars forcefully yanked the cap away from her reaching grasp. “Hey!”

“YOU’RE GETTING A NIGHTMARE TONIGHT BECAUSE I HATE YOU!” Astro yelled, holding the cap above her reaching grasp.

“Yeah, like you ever do your job anyway!”

Poppy stepped forward to make an attempt to try and stop them—and possibly boost her reputation with the two by doing so—but before she could, the looming elevator behind the group made a loud signal of arrival, and its door opened to reveal an irritated Goob alongside both Razzle and Dazzle.

“Scraps,” Goob began ominously, “what did we talk about?”

Scraps audibly gulped. She stepped away from the scene carefully, before swiftly turning on her heel and bolting towards the nearest door, her tail swinging wildly behind her.

Goob sighed and faced the group. “Sorry. I thought she learned her lesson last time… Uh, sorry about your cap, Astro. I–”

“YOU’RE GETTING A BAD DREAM TOO! I HATE YOU!” was all Goob got as a response. Astro’s livid countenance remained as vivid as ever, even as he walked away muttering to himself. The pom-pom at the end of his cap swung side-to-side as he walked away. Ironically, it resembled the shape of a commonly-used anger symbol.

The statement of “bad dreams” made Poppy think for a moment. To show she was thinking about something worth pondering to others, she brought a hand to her chin and frowned.

“What is it?” Finn asked hesitantly, aware of the trap that had been set out for him. The two had been friends for long enough that those sorts of things had become obvious.

Poppy sighed dramatically. “Oh, well, if you’re simply dying to know…”

“I wanna know!” Dazzle exclaimed.

“Do we…?” Razzle muttered.

“Don’t be silly, of course you do! I always think about things that are worth thinking about. You see, last night, I had a bit of a strange encounter with Boxten. The poor thing was suffering from nightmares!” Poppy explained. “For a moment, I wondered if that Astro had anything to do with it, but he never does anything to our dreams, even if he says he will, you know?”

Finn shrugged, immediately bored by the concept. “Uh, okay. Not our problem.”

“Oh, but I must tell you about it!” the bubble pushed. Any story that painted her in a positive light was one she felt almost obligated to share. “It all started around midnight…”

Chapter Text

Something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

The walls pulsated and gasped for life, breathing heavily. The wooden floor shifted onto itself like rolling waves, but acted more like quicksand underneath the wobbling furniture. The lower floors were notoriously hard to navigate, but no exaggeration came close to the real deal.

Boxten held his grip on the legs of the table he was hiding under. He hated seeing himself cowering in such an unsightly way, but for a reason he couldn’t comprehend at the time, he was unable to think straight. He clutched the blue bandana around his head and lowered it so that he could focus on breathing more steadily.

That’s when he saw it.

A capsule filled with dark liquid. It gleamed in golden light that came from nowhere.

Boxten slowly stepped out of his hiding place, eyes fixed on the object. His surroundings slowed their movement, as if shuffling to the side to let the main attraction—the capsule of pure ichor—be in the spotlight. He took a few steps towards it, until he could almost touch it.

Soon enough, his fingers were delicately—automatically, even—wrapped around the capsule. He slowly lifted it up with the precision of a master craftsman.

In his curiosity and confused haze, he failed to remember a key detail when it came to identifying capsules: the film wrapped around their cylindrical bodies like loose bandages.

The moment the capsule was lifted off of the ground, it shattered into a million pieces. The ichor inside held its shape for a millisecond until it, too, melted like water. Boxten instinctively tried to run away, but he tripped on nothing and ended up staring at the mess behind him in shock. Broken glass pierced his hands, but he felt no pain.

Amidst the chaos, a lump of ichor began to rise from the ground. It rose up, impossibly tall, and opened one unblinking eye. The other was closed, covered in sticky ichor that acted like glue. 

The mechanics of Twisted Boxten were very strange compared to all the others. Each one behaved the exact same way: they would hide among other capsules, waiting for an innocent Toon to pick them up. Once the figure rose from the ground, it would open one eye and attack. How its gaze pierced even the most resilient of hearts, Boxten did not know. 

What he did know, however, was that he was dead meat.

Boxten did not wake up with a scream, or suddenly sit up and clutch his cube-shaped head. His nightmares never induced such animated responses from him. 

Instead, he slowly opened his eyes and proceeded to spend a good minute trying to decipher how he was both still alive, and safe in his bed. Once the realization that he had suffered through another nightmare came to him, he sighed and slowly stepped out of his warm covers.

The music box had been experiencing nightmares for quite some time. They all consisted of different topics, but each one managed to scare him in their own ways. 

At first, he had thought that Astro was playing a prank on him. That theory was quickly disproven because, as time went on, the nightmares became worse. Boxten reasoned that not even the belligerent Astro Novalite could come up with such horrors.

After he got his bearings back, Boxten stepped out of his room. The entire hallway was dark, and it was clear everyone around him was asleep.

Often, during midnights when he was the only soul awake, he would go to the lobby to get "fresh" air. If that wasn’t an option, he would visit the small kitchen in the Toon Rooms for a distraction. 

He considered his other options for a few seconds, but as his nightmare had spooked him to the point where he didn’t want to stay alone for long, he decided to visit a dear friend of his for guidance.

Poppy’s room was as neat as ever. Everything loose and distracting had been tucked away or folded, as if the room was meant to always be in a state of awaiting visitors. Her bed was much more grandiose than his own—it even had a fabric veil that concealed the sleeper within.

Boxten approached the bed and carefully pulled back the veil. “Poppy?” he whispered.

“Mmm… Huh?” Poppy groggily muttered. She stirred and stretched her arms out. “Am I late…?”

“At this current moment, it is approximately midnight.”

Poppy brought her hands to her pink sleeping mask and pulled it off of her eyes with a disgruntled expression. “Eh?”

The clear annoyance made Boxten self-conscious about his decision to wake her up, but he wasn’t one to quit while he was ahead. “You had previously informed me that if I were to experience another nightmare, I should come to you,” he explained, fiddling with his hands.

“Gosh, Boxten, seriously?” Poppy sat up and rubbed her eyes awake. “What was it this time?” She patted the space next to her, and Boxten happily sat down.

“If I remember correctly, it was about the, er, Twisted version of me. I believe I had stumbled on a capsule and activated it,” he said.

Poppy furrowed her eyebrows. “Did you stay up doing an investigation again?”

“No, no!” Boxten quietly exclaimed, shaking his head. He then paused and sheepishly muttered, “Ah, well, maybe I had found something of interest that I wanted to examine. But I did go to sleep… eventually…”

“You have to stop doing that,” Poppy advised like a mother scolding her child. “Beauty sleep is key in making sure your day is perfect! You can’t focus on anything if you’re, like, sleep-deprived!”

Boxten sighed. He had known he was going to be lectured for his habits, but it didn’t stop his growing shame. “It was very ‘key’ to my investigations!”

The bubble gave him a knowing look. “Fine, I’ll bite. What was it this time?”

“It has to do with our resident star, Dandicus,” Boxten said with a pointed finger.

Poppy wasn’t impressed. “Why not just say– Oh, whatever; what did you find?”

“Nothing concrete yet. However, a few nights ago, I was venturing into a few lower floors—don’t give me that look, I was very careful about my endeavor!—and found a few notes about his creation. They intrigued me to the point where I just had to spend hours pouring over them! But… I suppose that those actions may have impacted my sleep.”

“You idiot,” she teased, elbowing him lightly on his side. “You can always just wait until morning. Be like me: perfectly patient as always!”

Boxten smiled underneath his bandana. He was already forgetting his nightmare. “If I must.”

Chapter Text

Gigi delicately tilted the dying leaves up with her sleeves. “No, no, no… Come on, little guy, please tell me you’re alive…”

A few days before, the gachapon had noticed that the quiet plant tucked away in a corner of her room wasn’t looking as vibrant as it had been before. Although she knew she was far from a skilled gardener, she could tell the plant was dying.

Gigi hated the way the petioles wilted as she put the pot down on her desk. She buried her head in her sleeves, racking her brain for a solution. 

“Hmm… Who in Gardenview is good with plants?” she muttered. The solution came to her the moment she closed her mouth.

The resident star of the show could usually be seen hanging around the lobby floor, doing miscellaneous things like enjoying the semi-fresh air and conversing with his friends, of which there were plenty. That day, Gigi found him watering the flowers near the Gardenview tree.

Gigi shyly approached him, her sleeves pressed against her chest timidly. “Dandy? Got a minute?”

Dandy jumped a bit at the interruption, his focus clearly broken. He put his watering can down and turned around with a smile. “What’s up?”

Gigi opened her mouth to explain her conundrum, but all words escaped her the moment their eyes met. She had never been good with interacting with any of the Mains, and Dandy was no different. His overwhelmingly positive personality was so bright that Gigi almost felt compelled to cover her eyes. 

A common opinion she often overheard was that, despite the cancelling of their show, Dandy was absolutely deserving of his starring role. She completely agreed.

“I have a… plant issue,” she began once she found her words again. “There’s a potted plant in my room, and I think it’s dying. It’s looking all brown even though I water it a lot! If you aren’t busy, could you maybe help?”

“Of course I can!” Dandy immediately assured. He stepped down from the raised platform and looked at her. “Where’s your room again?”

Gigi sighed in relief. “The second Toon Rooms hallway. You’ve been there before, but I can take you there,” she offered.

“Okay!” Dandy exclaimed, bouncing on his heels patiently. He seemed to not have any qualms about being interrupted. If anything, Gigi thought he looked ecstatic at the idea.

With as much care as she could muster, Gigi passed the plant over to Dandy. “I don’t know what species it is, but I’ve been watering it well.”

Dandy rotated the plant in his hands, careful not to harm it in any way. His expression became one of concern as he said, “This looks like a swiss cheese plant—it gets its name from the holes in the leaves. It’s easy to take care of, but it needs a lot of indirect light! You can raise a plant with artificial light, but it basically won’t do as much as real sunlight.”

“Does that mean I won’t be able to keep it?” Gigi asked, a frown settling on her face.

“Sorry, but I think you’ll have to move it to the lobby,” he answered. “Plants in that family can usually grow pretty big, so… maybe it being in your room isn’t the best idea.”

Gigi sighed. “Alright.” With a sharp jerk of her head, the lid on Gigi’s head popped open. She dug around inside, and after a few moments of blindly feeling around, pulled out a small box of chocolates. “Thank you for trying. Here, I made sure they’re not stale or anything.”

Dandy clapped his hands together and beamed, gladly accepting the sweet treat. “Aww, thanks, Gigi! Hey, are you planning to go on tomorrow’s run?”

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in subject. “Uh, I think so. I haven’t been on one in a while, so I think it would be good to do my share. Plus, I find really interesting abandoned trinkets down there that would make good gifts.”

“Nice! I’ll see you there?” Dandy asked brightly. It seemed like he did everything cheerfully.

“Sure. Who else is going?”

“Uhm…” A comical expression of deep thought appeared on his face, no doubt trying to find a blurry list of names out of whatever else he had in his mind. “Cosmo, the circus troupe, Glisten, Shrimpo… and you and me!”

The thought that Glisten was going on the extraction run made Gigi feel a bit better about the added detail of the circus troupe going as well. She would never say she outright hated them, but her feelings were mixed. She especially disliked Yatta, but not to the point of admitting it.

“Oh,” was all she ended up saying.

Dandy didn’t catch the hesitation. Instead, he gently patted the plant and stepped out of the room. “See you tomorrow?”

Gigi waved back and noticed that there was some dirt on her sleeves. “...Yeah. Tomorrow.”

The moment he was out of sight, the gachapon sat down on her bed and rubbed her downturned eyes. “What is wrong with me?” she asked no one in particular. “Get it together…”

The second after she had spoken, the thick red book on her nearby bedside table burst into translucent blue smoke. From it, a turquoise figure rose ethereally, white light shining on the figure from below, casting a shadow that could have been called impressive, had it not been for whom it was being casted on: Connie.

“Sorry for eavesdropping, but I just couldn’t help it!” Connie chuckled, flicking her wrist casually, like her mere presence wasn’t an invasion of privacy. “You sounded like you could use a little someone right now!”

Gigi frowned, not out of anger or sadness. Frowning was just her default expression. “Why are you in my room?”

Connie animatedly put her hands behind her back and smiled, pausing only to adjust her black dress. “I was planning on surprising you! I didn’t expect you to look so sad, so I wanted to cheer you up!”

“Sad…?”

“Yeah! You’re always so gloomy, Gigi,” she continued, floating off the desk and onto the floor where Gigi had landed. “You’re going with Shrimpo, right? Could you ask him to drop by my room tomorrow?”

Gigi nodded. “Okay,” she muttered. 

Chapter Text

The elevator was as lively as ever that day. Shrimpo would have called it nice, had the reason not been so dreary.

“Come on, Looey! It’s not that old!”

“The expiration date’s from, like, 1994! I’m not eating that, no way!”

Yatta held the small wrapped candy in front of Looey's face, taunting him with her wide grin. “If you won’t eat it, I will," she threatened, bringing it closer to her face.

Before she could put the treat—wrapper included—into her mouth, a rollcake-like Toon grabbed her wrist gently, and made her toss it out of the elevator. “Calm down, Yatta,” the Toon soothed, “we’ve only just arrived. Try to focus a bit for the run, hm?”

“You’re no fun,” was all Yatta had to say.

Despite her usual sass, Cosmo was as patient as ever. His half-closed eyes scanned her expression, and his star-patterned short sleeves caught the glint of the luminous lights of the elevator. “Speaking of the run, has anyone seen Dandicus?”

The group all shared glances with each other, for no one had seen the flower all day. It wasn't exactly an uncommon thought, since he was about as easy to find as a needle in a haystack for Shrimpo.

Eventually, a ribbon-covered wrist popped up behind the crowd like a wooden splinter, slightly askew and easy to miss. The wrist belonged to Glisten, a shy and nervous mirror with a penchant for extracting. "I think that's him over there," he said, pointing towards the end of the lobby.

Sure enough, when the group of seven looked towards the Gardenview tree, they saw a distressed Dandy running towards the elevator with a small plastic bag in his hands. He was clearly out of breath, and almost tripped on the carpet leading to the elevator. "Am I late?!" he exclaimed.

Cosmo briefly glanced at the others with an unreadable expression. "You're... just in time. May we get going now, everyone?"

With a push of a button on the panel, the door shut ominously, and the elevator began to descend.

"Hey, Shrimpo, could you come over here for a second?"

Shrimpo snapped out of his busy thoughts at the sound of Looey calling him from beside the large television in the corner of the elevator. "I'll have you know," he began with a proud tone, "that I've convinced Yatta to clean her room!"

Shrimpo gasped and raised his hands up to his mouth, walking over to him. "My goodness, are you serious? That's certainly an accomplishment! How... How did you do it?"

"I bribed her," Looey curtly responded. Despite his nonchalant expression, his long balloon-like tail wagged behind him. "With candy, 'course."

"Well, that makes my job easier," Shrimpo chuckled. "And how about your room?"

The casual question immediately made him animatedly freeze in his place. He began to fidget with his long polka-dotted top as he slowly said, "It's... uh... well..."

"Looey?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Looey exclaimed, all the energy apparently back in his body again. "It's just... What’s the point of cleaning it all up if it’s just going to get messy again? I could be doing all sorts of other things instead!”

Shrimpo tutted, clearly disappointed. “A clear space makes for a clear mind. Wouldn’t you know that, given you’re an artist?”

“Well… C’mon, Blot, help me out!” Looey gulped, grabbing the nearest gloved hand of one of his closest friends and pulling him over, almost making Blot trip. “Don’t you think artists can be messy, too?”

Blot yanked his hand away and glowered at Looey. He began a string of words and sounds that seemed like English from the perspective of someone who knew not a word. After his spiel, he glanced at Shrimpo and simply shrugged, as if to say I don’t care either way.

Shrimpo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering down to the soles of Blot’s feet, where footprints of ink followed wherever he went. He wished his trusty cleaning supplies were in his grasp as he tore his eyes away from the sight and said, “Well, are you two excited for the run?”

“Oh, I am!” Looey exclaimed, happy to change the subject. “I haven’t distracted in so long, I’m getting rusty!”

“I’m not,” was what Shrimpo thought Blot said. He couldn’t tell.

Looey frowned, but before he could say anything, the elevator suddenly stopped its descent. With a shudder, the door lifted open to reveal the first lower floor.

Slowly, the group stepped out. Even the more airheaded Toons gulped at the ominous aura of the darkened space.

Shrimpo gritted his teeth in concentration as he turned the red wheel clockwise. The stubborn thing seemed to be actively resisting his efforts, as if it was as sentient as he was.

In order for the floor to be deemed completed, each cylindrical machine scattered randomly had to be filled with ichor. Shrimpo wasn’t sure if the ichor inside the contraptions was the same as the liquid that pumped through his small body, or something entirely different. He was never one to question the mechanics of Gardenview, unless it involved the chores he prided himself on.

Every Toon had different skills when it came to completing floors. Some were quicker on their feet, some calculated strategies with each footstep, and some were best when dealing with the machines. Since the moment he opened his eyes, Shrimpo knew he was an exception.

The train of thought was interrupted by two pairs of footsteps approaching the small room he was extracting in. As quickly as he could, Shrimpo wiped the sweat off of his forehead and looked at the two with a smile.

“Oh, hey Shrimpo,” greeted Gigi, the compassionate and philanthropic gachapon. She was accompanied by Cosmo, who looked disturbed by the ichor that stained the ground near them. Shrimpo related deeply to his expression.

“Good afternoon, Gigi,” Shrimpo replied cheerfully. “Uhm, do you mind helping me with this machine? It’s been a bit stubborn with me.”

Gigi shook her head and stepped over, her sleeves dragging behind her as she walked. She eyed the machine momentarily before grabbing the wheel and turning it. The moment she did, ichor flooded into the container as smooth as butter. In an instant, the red circle above it turned green.

With a slightly strained smile, Shrimpo said, “Thank you for that.”

“No problem,” she nodded. 

A reflective head popped into the corridor and announced, “Guys? I think we’re heading back soon.” He looked over at the open hallway outside of the small room, towards the direction of the working elevator. With a wave of goodbye, a light yellow mirror adorned with frivolous decor swallowed him up and spat him out farther away.

“Are you both ready for the second floor?” Cosmo asked.

Gigi gave him an unreadable look.

Chapter Text

Once everyone was safely inside the elevator’s grasp, the door slammed shut like a wall of teeth swallowing the Toons alive. Blot shook his head to eliminate the imagery; digestion wasn’t something he wanted to think about while on a run.

A pinata-themed Toon with a muted triadic color scheme and half-closed eyes approached him with a mischievous grin, though she panted heavily from what Blot guessed was sprinting too much. She swung a plastic bag filled to the brim with candy and chocolate around her pointer finger. “You haven’t been on one of these in a while, huh?”

“Neither have you,” Blot retorted.

She shrugged in response. “Fair enough. You know Shrimpo’s been side-eyeing you this entire time, right?”

The ink Toon rolled his singular eye, hoping it gave off the effect he wanted. He was very aware of how much his dripping ink annoyed Shrimpo, even if the latter was too couthy to admit it. “He always does.”

Yatta hummed in thought before glancing over at the elevator hatch. After a few seconds of silent waiting, the Toons were all greeted by the sound of machinery giving way to the hatch opening.

Decorating the raised platform was a very makeshift and quaint shop—with an emphasis on makeshift. “Hi, hi! I got some goodies for sale!” the shopkeeper inside announced cheerfully. Two pastel hands waved to bring attention to the three items for sale: a stopwatch, a small bag of gumballs, and a box full of bandages. 

“Bandages? Does anyone have enough?” Gigi asked, turning towards the seven others in the group with a perturbed expression. No one volunteered to raise a hand.

Blot approached the shop. “I think Yatta’d like the gumballs,” he told the shopkeeper.

“...Huh?” was all he got in response.

Yatta slammed her fist on the table as much as she could without seriously damaging it, and dropped a few of her VHS tapes. “Gimme the goods, shopkeeper girl,” she grinned, glancing indiscreetly at the candy.

The seller looked a bit disconcerted at the slam and clearly caught off guard by Yatta’s willingness to buy from her, but her expression quickly shifted back into an awkward smile. “Uhm, well, I’m sure you’ll make great use of that!” she assured.

Dandy approached the shop with a smile on his face and trembling light green knees. “You know, me and the other Mains were planning on–”

“I’ll pass,” she curtly stated. Realizing that her response was much too rude for her practiced demeanor, she added, “I’m a very busy Toon!”

“...Okay!” Dandy nodded, stepping backwards without making eye contact.

Despite the two knowing each other longer than Blot had been alive, Dandy still acted just as nervous as most other Toons when in Shelly’s presence. It was always a sight to behold, considering his impressively good relationships with almost everyone else. There was always grumbling and muttering surrounding why Shelly was allowed to skip out on runs—and others weren’t—but no one had managed to stop her from starting up shop.

“Well, looks like it’s time for me to go!” Shelly exclaimed loudly. She grabbed the lever to her right and pulled down, descending into the darkness with a happy wave.

No one waved back.

By the fifth floor, two Toons were already out of commission.

As hardworking as he was, Shrimpo always quit the run around the fifth floor. He was a slow runner with horrible stamina, and he spent so long on machines that other Toons had begun the habit of seeking him out in runs specifically to help him extract. Everyone had gotten used to his skill set over the years, and most didn’t mind, as he was diligent in every other aspect of his duties.

The other Toon that quit was Glisten. His teleportation ability was impressive, but it took a toll on him every time he used it, which meant that he preferred to run away like everyone else. His running ability was subpar as well, so he soon found himself too injured to continue extracting. When Toons received injuries on runs, they were instructed to wait in the elevator and stay there until the remaining Toons became too fatigued to go on.

Blot thought about how much he would have liked to be one of the ones lying down, but he wasn’t too keen on getting hurt to do so. He also knew that his liquid ink would irritate the others if a puddle began to form around him.

A hand waved in front of his pensive face, almost making him trip in surprise. “Bloooot. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Looey, I’m listening,” he muttered, still half-lost in thought.

“Have you figured out a Halloween costume yet, Yatta?” the balloon asked cheerfully. “I really want to see if I can help with the decorations this time!”

Yatta, who was walking on Blot’s right, nodded. “I’m thinking… a zombie. I’ll paint myself green and stuff,” she explained, gesturing to herself.

“I’m thinking I’ll be a clown,” Looey mused.

Blot wagged his pointer finger scoldingly. He couldn’t stand the thought of his friend wearing the same costume as the year prior. “You’re always a clown.”

Yatta stifled a giggle. “Harsh, man,” she teased.

“Hey!” Looey frowned. His expression of annoyance didn’t last long, as he soon found himself chuckling along with her. “What’s your costume, Blot?”

A long and awkward silence followed his question as Blot tried to think of an answer. Eventually, he decided, “I’ll just ask Soulvester for ideas.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Yatta pointed out. She made the motion of elbowing Blot’s arm, but stopped herself a centimeter before making contact with his inky arm. She then stepped in front of the two boys and began walking backwards as they turned the corner. “Do you guys know if Ribecca likes candy? She does, right?”

“Yatta, watch out!” Looey suddenly exclaimed, reaching his arm out instinctively.

“What? What hap–”

Her question was cut short as Yatta’s foot landed on top of a cylindrical object. It launched forward from the force, and as she misplaced her footing, she began to fall backwards. Her expression slowly shifted to one of fear as her eyes trailed up towards the giant black and clawed hand behind her. 

Before her head collided with it, Blot grabbed her hands and pulled her towards him, making sure that only his gloved hands touched her. The cautious act stretched his arm muscles uncomfortably, but he was able to catch her from the force of her inertia easily.

“Holy gumballs, I didn’t see it!” she exclaimed once the surprise wore off.

“I didn’t know these were on this floor,” Looey gulped. “Blot, you okay?”

Blot stared at the hand for a second before turning around. “...Yeah.”

Chapter Text

By the 16th floor, only two Toons remained: Yatta and Gigi. Everyone else was either too fatigued or injured to continue.

“Here,” Gigi muttered, popping open her head’s lid and rummaging around. Eventually, she pulled out a small baby blue box, which she then delicately placed in Shrimpo’s hands. “I found it on the previous floor.”

Shrimpo graciously accepted the gift and opened the box. As delicately as he could, he placed the multicolored bandage on the small cut on his left knee. Black ichor dripped out of the open wound, and Shrimpo grimaced as he wiped the droplets away with his palms. “I wish Shelly would sell more valuable things when it’s clear that everyone’s tired.”

“She could also just… you know, not sell things,” Glisten added. “I mean, well… Why does she have to put a price on them anyway?”

“I think she’s just selfish. She probably has a ton of health kits sitting around her room, but chooses not to give us the stuff for free because she ‘needs’ those stupid tapes,” Blot ranted, leaning against his corner of the elevator.

Yatta shook her head. She was a prankster, but even she knew not to badmouth Shelly while on a run. “Calm down, dude. We all hate her shop, but it is useful sometimes. Like, sometimes sometimes.”

The silence after her statement was interrupted by the sound of Gigi opening another box of bandages. “You’ve been quiet, Dandy.” She glanced over at the flower, who quickly snapped up to attention at the mention of his name.

“Huh?”

Gigi scooted closer to him. “Is your wound hurting you?”

Dandy waved the question away dismissively. “It’s not the worst thing ever to happen!”

As carefully as she could, Gigi grabbed Dandy’s hand and stretched his arm out. Her eyes scanned the thin bloody claw marks on his right brachium, and she frowned at what she saw. 

“Is it as bad as it looks?” Blot asked. When Gigi gave him a blank look of confusion, Yatta repeated what her friend had said.

“Give it a few days, and he’ll be fine,” Gigi answered. Her tone wasn’t very reassuring.

Yatta turned her attention to Dandy. “Does it hurt?”

“I mean, it is bleeding, so… Yeah, a lot!”

While the two were talking, Gigi finished applying the bandage. It left a third of the wound without cover, but it was large enough to protect the deeper parts. “I’m glad we found enough supplies so that everyone could get the medical attention they need.”

The moment she finished her sentence, the elevator rumbled and the door opened with a ding, revealing the 17th floor. Yatta stepped out first and motioned for Gigi to follow.

Four Twisteds roamed the Sprout-themed floor: Twisted Teagan, Twisted Connie, Twisted Glisten, and Twisted Yatta.

Twisted Teagan was labeled as an Uncommon Twisted. Her mouth, scarf, and dress were all covered in ichor, and the sweet tea the Toon usually carried was pitch black. Her expression was a mix between doleful and vacant, and she had a habit of making Toons drop their precious loot whenever they were hit.

Twisted Connie was also labeled as an Uncommon Twisted, but she was nicknamed a “Passive” Twisted due to her habit of only attacking when provoked. Usually, she could be found lying lazily on top of the closest machine, her ghostly tail wrapped around the pipe that connected a machine to the ceiling. The moment an innocent Toon tried to extract from a machine that a Twisted Connie was on, she would become visibly angry and attack the Toon. Her black spiderweb-like hat had a bite in it, too.

Twisted Glisten was a Common Twisted that acted similar to all of the other Common Twisteds. His stomach looked ripped open, his ribbon bracelets had ichor staining the ends, and his face had shattered so badly that only a wide grin filled with triangles remained. 

Twisted Yatta was also a Common Twisted, with the same pattern of chasing whichever unfortunate Toon she saw. Her ribbon-like tails lifted her from the ground, and she hung limply from them, as if she was too tired to lift her legs to walk. She had a look of sadness on her face that only turned to annoyance once she spotted a Toon.

No one in Gardenview liked seeing mutilated versions of themselves, and the only two Toons that were exempt from having Twisted versions were—to Yatta’s knowledge—Dandy and Dyle. Yatta had never heard of anyone encountering a “Twisted Dandy” or a “Twisted Dyle” on a run, so she simply assumed that they didn’t exist. She appreciated Dandy’s eagerness to go on runs, and his pity for everyone else—even if she never said it.

“Just two more machines,” Yatta whispered under her breath, edging closer to a machine tucked away neatly in a corner. She could spot the Twisted Teagan leaving the area, and once Yatta managed to slide towards the machine and press her back against the wall, Twisted Teagan had walked out of sight.

As carefully as she could, Yatta placed her hands on the wheel and began to turn it. Her extraction abilities were on par with the likes of Vee and Glisten, but her ability to be stealthy was much worse, so she found herself ducking behind the nearest table to avoid being spotted by a stray Twisted Glisten. When she was about halfway done with filling the machine, she spotted the translucent form of a wandering Twisted Connie. Her eyes widened as the form began to approach her.

“No, no, no, don’t you dare possess my machine!” Yatta hissed, jaw dropping when the Twisted Connie floated up towards the top of the machine and sat there, warily observing Yatta.

Alerted by the sound of Yatta stomping her foot on the ground, Gigi walked over from the grassy area and asked, “You okay?”

“Twisted Connie’s on my machine!” Yatta fumed.

Gigi brought a sleeve to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “If this is the last machine, we can wait together,” she offered.

Yatta sighed and nodded. “Sure, yeah. It’s not like she’s budging anytime soon.”

The two girls sat on the nearest pink countertop and began to chat. Yatta never hung out with Gigi often, due to the natural clash of their personalities, but she could appreciate the gachapon’s insistence on the power of sharing—even if Yatta preferred to keep her hoards of candy to herself. The chat was also a good opportunity for the two to rest. They were both extremely tired.

Eventually, Twisted Connie floated back down and became invisible again, rendering the machine safe to use. Yatta hopped off of the counter and gave Gigi a smirk as she started work on the machine again. A few seconds passed, and a noisy alarm began to ring throughout the floor, marking the completion of all machines.

“Ready to go?” Gigi asked.

“Absolutely!” Yatta nodded. “I’m so tired of extracting!”

Chapter Text

Eclipse loved anything scary. Films, books, poems—whatever form the media was in, she would most likely find herself loving it. Her tastes weren’t the most extreme, as no gruesome stories were allowed to be brought into the Gardenview Center, but whenever Eclipse found a new horror book she hadn’t read yet, or a new spine-chilling film she hadn’t watched, she would stop everything she was doing and retreat to her room to finish it. If her friends were around, she would invite them to watch it with her. Her outward behavior also reflected her interests, as she loved the contradictory thought of being perceived as endearingly spooky.

The only genre she would never touch—the only one that ever gave her nightmares—was the subgenre of body horror. Merely the concept of a living person being forcibly and physically changed without their consent horrified her, especially when the person was revealed to be conscious throughout the entire process.

No matter how child-friendly the content marketed itself, Eclipse avoided anything relating to body horror the best she could. She understood that any outside media would solely focus on human mutilation, as that species was the main audience of all content ever produced, but it still scared her.

Around a year after her creation, she had been searching for any new books the staff might have brought in from the outside world. Most of the literature the humans brought was suited for all ages, but sometimes, things slipped out of visitor’s bags or hands, and she was able to indulge in films and books about scary subjects not meant for Toon eyes. She knew her limits, though, and always returned a book if the person came back to check, or if it was too unnerving for even her.

One day, she had stumbled on a small collection of short stories inside of a science fiction magazine, one that she couldn’t remember the name of. Science fiction was not usually a genre she fancied, but the cover of the magazine looked scary enough to convince her that delectable goodies were inside.

Upon opening the magazine, Eclipse was greeted by a 6,000 worded story written by an author she had never heard of before. Her interest had been successfully piqued, and she quickly made her way back to her room.

Once she was there, she sat on her bed and huddled beneath her covers, furry tail wagging in excitement. As quickly as she could, she opened the magazine and began to read.

Immediately, something was off about the story. Most horror works took their time with introducing its characters, diverting the reader’s expectations until inevitably reminding them what genre they were reading. In comparison, the one Eclipse was reading immediately made it clear that it took place in an apocalyptic setting where anguish was common. It surprised her, and she didn’t understand most of the references to politics or society, but she simply chalked it up to the short length of the story.

Eventually, she neared the ending. The gut-wrenching, heart-pounding story had its themes of transformation, but it only ever applied to the environment around the main characters, so Eclipse felt no fear of the concept.

Then, when she was on the last page, she stopped.

The big final scene of the story was a detailed description of the protagonist, a young man with his whole life ahead of him, turning into a creature that surpassed even the vague label of “humanoid”. It was a slow process, and the transformation had been done by a larger, more powerful character that felt like it represented the eternalness of death itself.

There were no gory scenes, or suspenseful chase sequences that left readers at the edge of their seats. There was only the realization that the protagonist had become something other than human; he had become a monster.

Eclipse wasn’t able to finish the final sentence of the story. Imagery of the mutilated protagonist plagued her mind, and once she returned the magazine where she found it, she went back to her room and crawled underneath her sheets, scared out of her mind. She hugged her pillow as close as she could, reminding herself that she was safe and sound.

“A-As long as I have my light,” she had repeatedly whispered to herself, “I’ll be okay.”

Every October 10th, Eclipse was woken up the same way: by Ribecca.

“Rise and shine!” the skeleton cheered, slamming the Staff Only door open and pulling on the soft bedsheets as hard as she could.

Eclipse tried to keep her grasp on the sheets, but soon fell to the ground with a thud from the force. “What? What’s happening?”

Ribecca put her hands on her hips and tutted. “You can’t sleep forever, silly! Well, you could, but I think that’d be pretty bad. Anyway, it’s time for us to go see everyone, remember?”

Immediately, Eclipse’s bad mood was replaced by excitement, and she quickly stood up to meet Ribecca’s eyes. “I thought we still had a week left!” she exclaimed, her tail wagging behind her.

“Nope! Soul and Gourdy are already at the elevator ‘cause we’re all waiting on you. Are you ready?”

“I just need to brush my fur,” Eclipse said. With a nod, Ribecca slammed the door shut as forcibly as she had opened it.

Eclipse hurriedly grabbed the rake brush on her bedside table and ran it through her fur, making sure that any visible knots were smoothed and untangled. Then, she ran a smaller comb through her snout and abdominal fur, which were shorter and more sensitive. With her fur decently brushed, she grabbed her favorite accessory: a large coral red hood with a ribbon bow tying the elbow-length cloak behind it. It was one of her most prized—and only—items of clothing, and she kept it as pristine as she could.

Eclipse put on the neck accessory, making sure the hood was down, and ran towards the elevator, pausing briefly to glance at the Halloween floor around her in awe. She loved the floor’s decor, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in wonder at the lit jack-o-lanterns. The Toons did their preparation job well.

“Coming!” she shouted, making her way towards the elevator.

Chapter Text

Much like a painter deciding which colors would compliment each other best, Cosmo delicately squeezed icing out of a piping bag. His precision—a skill he had acquired from years of baking experience—was immaculate, and he had quickly turned what was once a plain baked treat into a work of art under his care. Often, Cosmo thought of his baked goods as better than other forms of artwork, given paint was usually considered inedible. Baking was a form of art that could be enjoyed by both sight and taste, he believed.

Cosmo hummed a nameless tune under his breath as he worked, wishing he had a pair of human headphones that fit his cartoonishly wide head. The motion of decorating and preparing had become a habit for him, and the repetitive nature of the actions soothed his worries immensely. He always found himself baking whenever worries troubled his mind.

That day, the pain that ached him was physical. During the extraction run the day before, he had been caught by the reaching grasp of a hostile Twisted Goob. Its sharp claws had tugged at his sides, leaving tears in both his sweater and skin. None of his injuries were expected to leave permanent damage, but he was unable to stay in the run as long as he had wanted to.

The kitchen floor was entirely empty except for him. The silence was calming, and offered itself as a backdrop to his thoughts. Cosmo loved the subtle way peace managed to nestle itself into every nook and cranny of the room.

His love ended the moment the silence was broken.

“Cos! Hey, Cos! Cos, wait up!”

An irritated expression flashed across Cosmo’s face as he turned around. “Yes, Sprout?”

The enthusiastic strawberry waved his hands in greeting, almost tripping over two rolling pins and one loose floorboard in his clumsy jog towards his baking partner. “What are you doing?”

“Baking,” Cosmo curtly replied.

Sprout clapped his hands together. “Oooh! Can I help?”

“It’s almost finished.” In reality, the icing was only halfway done, but he had been working on the cupcakes for hours. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. 

“Oh. Well, have you seen the Halloween guys?”

Cosmo raised an eyebrow. “My, are they here already?”

“Yeah! What do you wanna dress up as for the holiday?” Sprout asked, taking the opportunity to sit on the marble countertop and kick his legs expectantly. 

Halloween wasn’t Cosmo’s favorite holiday, but dressing up was a tradition he enjoyed. The holiday was also an excuse to host impromptu get-togethers where he could bake treats for everyone. “To answer your question, I do not have a definitive answer. However, I’ve recently gotten interested in the mythological nature of vampires, specifically those featured in the film–”

“Oh, I have an idea! What about Frankenstein!”

Cosmo blinked. “...What?”

“The huge zombie guy!” Sprout exclaimed, as if the answer would solve his earlier statement. “You know, the one that rises up from the dead and is really scary and stuff! You can be the doctor, and I’ll be Frankenstein!”

“From what I remember, Frankenstein is the doctor’s surname; the doctor is the one who raised the monster from its slumber. It’s certainly a very interesting read, but I haven’t had the time nor pleasure to partake in it,” Cosmo corrected. He took Sprout’s hand and led the strawberry towards the elevator, away from the hazardous nature of the kitchen. “You should ask Soulvester and Poppy for help with that. I’m quite busy, and that way, you can help me while I’m baking. Don’t you want to help me out?” he asked, gently pushing Sprout into the elevator with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I can do that!” Sprout cheered, bringing his fists towards his face and pumping them. Before he could say another word, the elevator shut with a strange tone of finality in its slam.

Cosmo breathed a sigh of relief. He cared for Sprout—the two had been best friends since the moment Cosmo first opened his half-closed eyes—but every time the two were alone together, the room felt just a bit tighter, and the air felt just a bit more suffocating, like he was treading on fragile ice.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t used to the feeling. After all, Cosmo was the first Side Character ever created. His role as “Sprout’s Best Friend” was determined once he was added to the show. It saddened him, but he knew that there was more to his character, even if others often forgot about it.

“For example,” Cosmo muttered to himself as he walked back over to his cupcakes. “I love precision in whatever I do, and whenever I happen to spot an acquaintance of mine looking crestfallen, I talk to them and offer them my comforting presence! I’m certainly not the most popular character, but don’t I deserve some alone time from that fragaria?”

The empty floor offered no answer to him. Instead, it only watched as Cosmo finished the vanilla cupcakes and headed towards the elevator, tray in hand. 

Cosmo decided to leave the cupcakes in the Toon Rooms kitchen for later. He had thought that the long hallway would be empty, but to his surprise, a magnifying glass Toon stood near the plastic tables.

“Oh, Rodger, what a lovely time to see you,” Cosmo greeted. “I’ve just finished baking some cupcakes. Would you like to take one?”

Rodger eyed the treats and shrugged. “No, thanks. Why do you, like, bake so much, anyway?”

“It’s quite the calming activity. I don’t suppose you’d like to join me for a little, say, get-together later?”

Rodger gave a blank stare. “Uh, I’m busy,” he said.

Cosmo nodded in understanding. “Right. Could you spread the word that dinner is being prepared? I trust that you won’t enlargen your… crack… while doing so?”

The comment about the triangular crack under Rodger’s eye made him cross his arms. “You know it doesn’t get bigger. I can do just fine without you worrying.”

“If you say so.” He put down the tray. “We all have your back, remember?”

“...Thanks,” was all Rodger had to say. He wasn’t a man of few words, but he was much more independent than most Toons were. Cosmo could respect his attitude.

Chapter Text

Soulvester eyed the strawberry with a perplexed look beneath his metal exterior. “Art thou positive that dressing up as a fictional monster would be something thou would want?”

“Positively positive!” Sprout assured. He took Soulvester’s hands in his own and squeezed the armor, despite knowing the ghostly knight wouldn’t be able to feel it through his armor. “The idea’s cool, right?”

“I suppose a different approach this year would be nice… And am I correct in assuming that Cosmo will be accompanying and matching with thee?” Soulvester asked, attempting to subtly pull his hands out of Sprout’s strong grip.

The tradition of the two bakers matching outfits every holiday was an unwritten rule in Gardenview. It was a fact of life that every Toon knew about, like the sky being blue, or Gourdy inexplicably being able to sneak candy into every meal. Soulvester, being the fashion expert he was, knew the fact by heart. If he was to help prepare the Halloween costumes, he thought, he needed to understand the preferences of his peers.

Sprout nodded as if there was ever a chance he would say no. “He’s gonna be the, uh, scientist character! Hey, no one else is doing that, right?”

“An important question to ask. I believe Yatta wanted to dress up as a zombie, Glisten was looking for something with a red theme, Ribecca fancied something intimidatingly cute—as she put it herself—and Dandy wanted Pebble to wear whatever I considered adorable. I am also keen to believe that Poppy is doing something by herself. Perhaps it has something to do with that play of hers,” Soulvester informed. “I certainly hope that our resident fabric supplier drops off his things soon, or else we may end up in quite the pickle.” His words hung in the air awkwardly as Soulvester waited for Sprout to pick up on his allusion.

Eventually, Sprout let go of Soulvester’s hands and clapped his own together, replying, “Oh! You’re talking about Dyle!”

“Yes, I am. Wouldst thou like to accompany me and visit him? It would make the visit less…” Soulvester paused. “Tiresome.”

“Oh, yeah, sure!” Sprout agreed, his cheerful countenance not dropping for a second.

At that moment, Soulvester found his stubbornness to be impressive. It didn’t take long for him to lose any admiration he had, for immediately after, Sprout began to confidently stride towards the wrong elevator, and the ghostly knight had to guide him to the other.

Dyle Timesly was a Toon Soulvester was never quite able to figure out. Any prodding conversation was like trying to solve a living puzzle with no instructions, while also being blindfolded. Soulvester and Sprout found him standing in front of the Astro-themed elevator in the lobby, leaning against the blue wall and fidgeting with his unbuttoned clothes. Once he spotted them, his judging expression soured greatly. 

“You’re late, Soulvester. You promised to be here two minutes ago,” he started, pushing himself away from the wall and facing the two with crossed arms. 

Soulvester put his hands on his hips. “I'm sure that we hadn’t said a specific time, but whatever. Have thou acquired fabric yet?”

“And food!” added Sprout. He went quiet the moment his bright eyes met Dyle’s cold ones.

“...I have, obviously,” Dyle said, “given I’m here. I’d imagine that to be obvious, but you were never one for common sense, were you, Sprout?”

Soulvester coughed loudly. “Perhaps thou could bring the materials to the Halloween floor, and Poppy could pick the ones she wants to use? It would be lovely if thou joined in on the festivities as well, this year.”

Dyle squinted. “I have no interest in your costumes. My regular outfit is fine, thank you.”

“Well, as thee wishes.”

The golden pocket watch tutted in annoyance at Soulvester’s nonchalance. “Whatever. Have either of you seen Brusha around? I know she wanted more paint.”

As an attempt to elevate the mood—or due to his general lack of social awareness—Sprout sprang up at the question and raised a hand. “Oh! Oh! I know! She’s–”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“...What?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?" Dyle repeated. "You’re always busy, aren’t you?”

Sprout shook his head. “Well, I am pretty busy usually, but–!”

“Then why don’t you go and do something else? Talking to me is certainly not a job for the esteemed Sprout Seedly, hm? How about you go running back to your little rollcake friend?” he interrupted, making a shooing motion with his hand.

After a few more seconds of persisting against Dyle’s haughty stare, Sprout caved in. “Sure, I guess I should go…” he muttered, walking away without a second glance.

Soulvester’s eyebrows furrowed underneath his helmet. “Thine hypocrisy is uncharacteristic of thou.”

“I have no clue what you mean,” Dyle said.

“Thou act as if thou art, like, a representative of the majority. Tell me, how can that be true if thou, too, have a surname? Art thou not in the same boat as the Mains?” Soulvester questioned. He knew what answer he would get before he opened his mouth.

Venom dripped from Dyle’s voice as he stepped forward and growles, “I am not like them. I will never be like them.”

Soulvester wanted to respond, but something compelled him to stay quiet. A part of him wondered if it was from the sheer anger in Dyle’s tone or expression, because all he ended up saying was, “I'll see thee later,” as he quickly hurried away.

Per usual, the Toon Rooms hallway was decently busy. Soulvester found his ability to move slightly hindered by the crowd—that, and his heavy armor. After several instances of toe-stepping and shoulder-pushing, he finally managed to approach the room that belonged to Brusha, Gardenview’s resident painter extraordinaire. When he stepped into the room, he was prepared to find her at work, fully focused on a new piece, but what he found instead surprised him.

“No, no, you aren’t getting it. Green is the opposite of red, not blue,” Brusha explained, gesturing to the group of bewildered-looking Toons—Dandy, Ribecca, and Rodger—in front of her. She kept gesturing to the former’s red petal like it was a diagram. Also in front of her was Blot, who was saying something back, but his words were pure gibberish to Soulvester. Brusha understood him apparently, because she then said, “Well, advertisements aren’t really trustworthy. That’s kind of their whole point.”

Soulvester coughed. “Excuse me?”

Immediately, the five Toons turned to look at the doorway. Embarrassed, Soulvester began, “Art thou busy? I need some help from Brusha.”

Blot said a few words in response, to which Brusha then added, “I’m teaching these two art tips. Do you… want to join?”

“Er…” Soulvester thought about it for a moment. “Alright.” He walked over to Blot’s right and sat down, thoroughly confused.

Chapter Text

Brusha was very dissatisfied with her latest painting.

She had wanted her piece to depict a field of flowers—the imagery wasn’t a very creative idea, but she had wanted to practice her still-life skills—but as she looked closer at her pencil sketch, she realized that she would have to restart the piece if she wanted a better end result that would fit her standards.

“Honestly, I’d rather just start over than continue,” she muttered to no one in particular. “I think I’d just get tired from this, wouldn’t I?”

After 15 more minutes of pondering her situation, Brusha wiped the canvas clean and left her room in search of a Toon to draw, pencil and sketchbook in hand.

Brusha found Poppy talking to Brightney in the Toon Rooms kitchen. She couldn’t tell what the two were discussing, as the moment she walked closer, Poppy glanced over and waved.

“Brusha, how are you? Feels like you’ve been stuck in your room for years!” Poppy greeted. Despite her comment, her tone was chirpy and buoyant. 

“Hi Brusha!” Brightney said with a wide grin. “Watt’s up? You look pretty amped up about something!”

A small chuckle escaped Brusha out of nervousness. Her opinion of Brightney was not very positive. “I’m looking for some… inspiration. Maybe a Toon to draw.”

Poppy immediately caught notice of her tone and shuffled closer, batting her eyelashes. “So, you need a muse, then? Well, perhaps I could be of assistance–”

“Anyone else but you.”

“Oh, worth a shot,” Poppy sighed, crossing her arms on her chest.

“What about me?” Brightney asked. “Oh, wait, will I have to stand still for hours? Shocking!”

Brusha bounced on her heels impatiently. She glanced at the direction of where the elevator was before saying, “I’d rather paint someone a bit less energetic. I’ll get back to you both later if I need to practice drawing quickly.”

Her compromise seemed to satisfy the two, as they waved her goodbye and went right back to their conversation once Brusha left.

After quite a bit of spacing out, Brusha found herself in the aptly named Projector Floor, where she spotted an unlikely candidate near the opposite broken elevator. 

The Toon was standing rather restlessly, given his tapping foot and occasional muttering. He did not move from his spot when he saw Brusha approach; he only stared with muted surprise.

“Blot? What are you doing here?” she asked, clutching her sketchbook closer to her chest.

As expected, Blot turned towards her and began to speak in his strange gibberish. He had no mouth, but words were definitely being spoken—none of which she could understand.

Regardless of their language barrier, Brusha immediately knew that Blot was the one she wanted to paint. His ever-flowing ink immediately sparked countless ideas in her head, and that want compelled her to stand up straighter and exclaim, “Would you mind modeling for me?”

The question caught Blot off guard. He looked at her with an expression that screamed confusion, but he didn’t show any signs of disapproval, so she continued.

“I’ve been looking for a muse—someone that’ll offer me inspiration for my next piece,” she explained. “Are you busy?” Blot shook his head, and she exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Then, follow me.”

Although Brusha had her gallery situated in the Art Floor, she preferred to paint her smaller pieces in her room. She had all of her supplies neatly organized there, and she had a feeling Blot would rather stand on solid ground than carpet. 

Once the two entered, Brusha began to grab her painting supplies and set them down where she wanted them—years of painting had turned the layout into something akin to habit. It only took her a few minutes to find herself sitting down in front of a canvas, motioning for Blot to stand in front of her.

“I’ll start by painting the solid background, then sketching you, and then going over that with paint,” she explained for him. “Can you sit still for that long?”

Blot spoke a few words with a tone of agreement, so she started.

First, like she promised, she painted the entire canvas one solid color: a very light shade of purple. Then, she reached over her shoulder to grab a standard pencil from her desk, and began to shape out Blot’s anatomy, starting with his torso. As she worked—and eventually went on to begin painting—her objective appreciation for his design deepened. He was deceivingly difficult to draw, but once Brusha figured out the patterns of how his ink dripped, shaping out his figure became much easier for her. The pastel stool he was sitting on contrasted with his dark body nicely, giving her extra understanding of those patterns.

As she painted, the two chatted. They started off with very one-sided talk, but the more Blot spoke, the more Brusha began to understand him. She was nowhere near the level of bond that Yatta and Looey had with him, but she was farther than she was before.

Once she decided that the piece was done, she sighed loudly and leaned back, stretching her stiff arms. “I’m done!”

“,truh sgel yM” he complained, standing up and looking at the puddle of ink residue that sat on the stool. “?edam uoy tahw ees I naC”

“Yeah,” Brusha nodded, grabbing the dry canvas from the easel and turning it around. 

Blot stared at the painting with a mix of surprise and confusion. “?elprup esu reve ylno uoy od yhW”

Brusha shrugged. She had assumed that everyone in Gardenview knew about her penchant for shades of violet. “I use other colors too sometimes.”

“?esu ot sroloc hcihw ediced uoy od woH”

“Are you asking about my process?” Brusha asked, giving him a surprised look.

Blot stepped backwards, unsettled by her expression. “?gnisirprus taht yllaer taht sI ?...seY”

“Well…” Brusha fiddled with the sleeves of her white sweater. She decided to start cleaning up her supplies as she continued, “You usually never ask to spend time with anyone who isn’t a close friend unless they're hurt.”

Blot stayed silent for a few seconds. His eye avoided hers as he muttered, “...eurt toN”

Neither of them wanted conflict, so she decided to drop the subject first. “If you’re interested in art and color theory, I can explain the basics of what I know. But first… I need a diagram.”

Chapter Text

Blot gave the messy drawer a silent look of judgement. “Are you sure you know what you’re searching for?”

“Yeah, a color wheel,” Brusha responded confidently, popping her head out of the seemingly infinite kitchen cabinet she was searching through. She had a patient smile on her face as if they hadn’t been searching for more than nine minutes straight.

While she wasn’t looking, Blot snuck a can of Pop from the refrigerator and cracked it open with a sharp hiss. “What’s a color wheel?”

“It’s a diagram that explains what colors are opposites of one another. Usually, they depict six circles together in a… well, a circle. You can’t explain color theory without color.” Brusha closed the drawer and stepped down from the tall countertops. Once she noticed the can in his hands, she gave him a knowing smile. “Is that for me? You’re too kind.”

“No,” Blot said, taking an unorthodox sip of the bubbly drink. “Can’t you just use a poster of Dandy, or something? He’s a walking rainbow.”

Brusha tapped her foot in consideration. “That’s a good idea, but I don’t want to vandalize a poster with notes. I can’t just draw my own, either, since I ran out of red paint just a bit ago.”

“Why not just… use a different material… like pencils…?” Blot suggested. “Or is that, like, not allowed?”

Brusha gave him a blank stare. “What did you say? Oh, never mind; let’s go to the lobby. I can probably find something there.”

Blot sighed. “Lead the way.”

“I thought it would be less crowded today,” Brusha muttered as the two stepped foot into the lobby. She guided Blot away from the elevators and waved at the two Toons ahead of her.

One of the Toons in question immediately proceeded to run towards them and trap Brusha in a tight squeeze. “Heyyy! It’s been FOREVER! What are you DOING here?!”

“I- Tisha, we saw each other yesterday!”

“Oh YEAH!” Tisha exclaimed. “Hey, Shelly, get over here!”

Blot felt himself instinctively stiffen as he watched the ammonite fossil approach the group and curtsy. “What do you two need?” she asked with a smile so practiced, it was like she had never frowned before.

“I’m showing Blot the basics of color theory,” Brusha explained. Her tone held no hint of worry as she added, “Do you want to join us?”

Shelly shook her head. “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. I definitely appreciate the offer, friend!”

“Brusha,” Blot suddenly interrupted, grabbing her right hand. “Can we continue searching now? You have a lot of material to get through, right?”

After a few seconds of absentminded staring, understanding lit up in Brusha’s eyes, and she swiftly turned towards Tisha and Shelly. “We’re also busy, so… Let’s talk later, okay?”

“You’re LEAVING? Aww…” Tisha groaned, her usual smile turning into an exaggerated frown. 

Blot began dragging Brusha back towards the elevators, away from Shelly. “Let’s go.”

When the two were safely inside one of the closed elevators, Brusha pulled her hand out of his grasp and wiped it on her purple shorts. Once she was sure that no ink had stained her clothing, she asked, “What’s your problem with Shelly? Or did you just not want to come to the lobby?”

“...I don’t want to talk about it.”

Both of them knew he was lying—he had ranted to the circus trope about his opinions before—but to his surprise, Brusha only sighed. “Okay. Well, I think I’ll pay a visit to Scraps and see if she’s willing to let me borrow her pencils.”

The silence of the elevator ride was cut short by a loud dinging sound, signaling their arrival to the Toon Rooms, where there were plenty of Toons chatting there as well. Their eyes followed the crowd's current until they spotted a glint of rainbow amidst the monochrome.

Brusha gave Blot a troublesome grin as the two made eye contact. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“What… What are you thinking?”

She ominously chuckled and then, without a second glance, stepped forward and announced, “Hey, everyone! Whoever wants to learn how to paint with me and Blot here, join me in my room!” When she spotted Blot’s horrified expression, she added, “Things are better with others around, and that includes art. Now, where is Scraps?”

Blot huffed and followed Brusha through the hallway until they came across the room that belonged to both Scraps and Goob. They shared a guilty glance at the idea of stealing from Scraps, but the moment the messy room came into view, they silently agreed that the paper craft wouldn’t miss a few pencils.

With their supplies secured, Brusha, Blot, and a few others who had decided to join them quickly began their “class” in her room.

Blot scooted a bit to the side, allowing Soulvester to sit next to him. He knew it wouldn’t do much to clean the evergrowing puddle of ink around him, but he didn’t want to look like he was doing nothing.

“They’re called that because if you mix them together, they make a muddy brown,” Brusha continued explaining. She had assumed the posture and tone of a well-mannered teacher, given she was the only one in the room standing. “If you mix red paint and green paint, it just becomes muddy.” She paused. “Yeah, Ribecca?”

Ribecca waved her hand enthusiastically and pointed at the brush. “Hi! Uh, what color is mud again?”

“Well, technically brown.”

“Oh! Okay!”

Soulvester stared at Brusha with confusion in his half-closed eyes. “How can yellow and purple make a shade of brown? Would it not be gray instead?”

Brusha tapped a colored pencil against her chin in thought. “I said ‘muddy’, not pure mud. It really depends on the exact hues of color you’re mixing—and how much of both—but usually, an exact amount of yellow and purple mixed together will make a very brown-ish gray. A similar color should appear when mixing green and red, or orange and blue.” Her deep respect and passion for color theory dripped from every word.

Her answer wasn’t completely satisfying to him, but Soulvester sighed and relaxed his posture. “I see. And–”

A knock on the doorframe swiftly interrupted him. Every Toon went silent as they gave each other glances of confusion; no one usually knocked in the Toon Rooms and didn't invite themselves in. Their confusion only grew as a light tan Toon stepped inside and smiled, immediately annoying Blot.

“Can I borrow Dandy for a moment?” Shelly asked with a practiced voice. She gave no mind to the look on everyone’s faces, as if they had all collectively seen a ghost.

Dandy slowly stood up and began fidgeting with his hands. “I’m kinda busy, Shelly…” he said, his nervous tone oddly uncharacteristic.

Shelly didn’t budge. Instead, she set her gaze on Brusha. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“No,” Brusha answered honestly. “He can leave whenever, but–”

“Then it’s settled!” Shelly interrupted. She gestured for Dandy to come with her as she walked away from the room.

Blot felt like he was the only one who saw a hint of pleading in the flower’s eyes as he walked away from them.

Chapter Text

Dandy stared at the cold elevator floor with as much interest as he could fake. Faintly, he could hear Shelly prattling on about something, but her words faded away the moment they hit him.

“Dandy?”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening?” Shelly asked, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently, her rhythm off and nonlinear. Dandy had been listening to music long enough to tell those types of things by ear.

“I am, I am,” he assured, tearing his eyes away from the floor. “What am I doing again, though?”

Shelly groaned, though she didn’t sound too angry. “Yesterday, a run took place. Today, you’re going to fulfill our agreement!”

After a few seconds of blank staring, Dandy tried to smile back and match her energy. “Oh yeah, I remember!”

Usually, smiling came naturally to him, but at that moment, he felt like an invisible weight was pressing down on his cheeks, curving his lips into a frown. The feeling was rare for him.

Shelly looked forward again as the two felt the elevator come to a slow halt. Eventually, the door opened, and she put a hand on Dandy’s shoulder.

“Remember: get as many tapes as you can! Don’t disappoint me!” The moment she could, Shelly gently dragged him to the opening and pushed him out of the elevator with a cheerful wave. The door immediately closed in front of her.

Dandy stared at the metal rectangle in front of him for a good 10 seconds, entertaining the idea of going back up and ignoring Shelly’s request. He quickly told himself that it would be simply illogical to do so, and set out for a bag to hold some tapes. 

Dandy spent the first 13 floors doing two things: hiding and exploring. All the early machines were running smoothly and efficiently with the amount of ichor inside of them, so he was able to speed up his search tremendously. Occasionally, he had to hide from a few wandering Twisteds, but for the most part, he took his time in his search and let himself relax when he was sure he was safe.

Floor 14 was where things went wrong.

The moment he heard the sound of howling and growling, he wanted to turn back. He yearned for the safety of the elevator, but as he glanced at the paper bag he had borrowed from one of the floors prior, he realized that he barely had any tapes to show. 

“I need to get Shelly this stuff,” he whispered to himself, “but that Twisted Eclipse’s going to k… really annoy me!” After a long time of careful consideration, he looked back at the Gift Shop floor and clenched his fists in determination. He took about five steps before another howl pierced the air—one that came from much, much closer to him.

Before he knew it, a mess of ichor and dirty fur barreled into him from the side. Something sharp grazed his cheek, and he watched in slow-motion as thin lines of ichor splattered across his face. Adrenaline sent his muscles into a frenzy, and he ran as fast as his legs could muster towards any kind of hiding spot, the world a blur around him. That spot turned out to be a plastic table, which he promptly slid underneath. 

Once the Twisted Eclipse lost sight of him, it shook its head angrily and stomped away, leaving Dandy shaking in fear and pain. The cut had begun to drip ichor onto his hand, but he sighed in relief once he was sure no tapes had been lost from his bag.

He knew he couldn’t go on much longer before an even stronger Twisted locked eyes with him. Floor 14 was his average limit every time Shelly sent him on one of her errands, but despite his experience, he had never made it past the 20th floor by himself.

The sound of dripping liquid interrupted his thinking. He hadn’t noticed prior—the attack from Twisted Eclipse had frightened him too much—but puddles of pure ichor were collecting on the floor from what he assumed were broken ceiling pipes. Ichor leaks, as the Toons had begun to call them, were all-too common, and provided a special type of nuisance to most Toons during extraction runs. They were usually met with annoyance and groans of discontent.

Dandy felt otherwise. He stared at the nearest puddle with wide eyes, every thought in his mind silenced.

He wouldn’t survive long, that was a fact. If he stopped his search right there and then, Shelly would be infuriated at him.

Slowly, the flower inched closer to the puddle. Every drop matched with the sound of his beating heart, and the subtle pulsating of the puddle moved almost hypnotically. 

Dandy reached towards the puddle and paused. Every fiber of his being wanted to leave, to go back to the safety of the lobby, but his mind wouldn’t let him. He had an assignment, and he would fulfill it.

Without another word, Dandy stuck his mint-colored hand into the puddle and felt around. The puddle jerked in response to his touch, but it soon began to calm down and move with a mind of its own. It crawled up his arm like an army of spiders, reaching his shoulder and, eventually, his chest.

Dandy only watched as the viscous black liquid took its time in consuming him. There was no malicious intent in its brainless spreading, but faintly, he felt a sense of excitement from it, though the sense could have just been his own nerves.

Even when Dandy pulled his hand from the puddle, the ichor continued to spread. It quickly finished covering his body in a matter of seconds, leaving only his head to breathe. That, too, was covered in an instant.

Somewhere on the floor, in a corner far away, a music box croaked a note.

Something was traveling through the 26th floor.

Unlike the rest of the Twisteds around it, the thing moved with zeal and intent. It did not mindlessly wander; instead, it searched in corners regular Twisteds ignored, and paused to let them pass by. A paper bag filled with VHS tapes and scattered rolls of film hung limply from its clenched mouth, as its hands could no longer hold such delicate objects.

The thing, despite its strange passiveness and hesitation, held several weapons that were capable of murder. Sharp multicolored claws that could slice flesh into pieces protruded from the stubs at the ends of its arms. Giant fangs lay hidden in its closed mouth, waiting for a reason to reveal themselves. Even its ichor-covered body rippled with muscle and dangerous instinct, only interrupted by the green vines on its wrists and torso that seemed to choke the thing. 

The most notable aspect was that its face held not violent glee—like most Twisteds around the area—but melancholic woe, as evidenced by the dripping black tears from its widened eyes and sniffling frown. It looked miserable in its monstrous state to the point where its features became pitiful.

Pitiful, but still Lethal.

Chapter Text

“Let’s see…” Teagan muttered to herself, tapping the paper she was holding with her pen. “I haven’t caught up with Squirm or Rodger in a while. Oh, but I think Rodger’s busy today…” She paused to stretch her tired arms and settle into a more comfortable position in her bean bag. “I bet Squirm’s in the library again. Maybe I can go see him today. You know what? Yeah, I’ll go do that.”

With her mind set on visiting her friend, Teagan sat up and made her way towards the nearest elevator. Given that it was early in the morning, and most Toons were asleep, there was no one occupying it.

Teagan stepped into the blue reading nook with a smile on her literally porcelain face. “I knew you’d be in here.”

Among the star-shaped lights and countless bookshelves lied a bookworm curled up on the soft aquamarine carpet. His face was hidden by a leather book in his hands, which he promptly put down when he heard Teagan’s voice, revealing a cartoonishly big ruddy blue monocle on his left eye.

“What are you reading?” Teagan asked, walking over and sitting down next to him.

Squirm closed the book and passed it over to her, pointing at the title. “It’s a quaint little poetry collection I haven’t had the pleasure of reading yet. I wanted to share it with Goob, but I’m afraid he won’t enjoy it.”

“Why not show it to him during the book club? You have just so many books you could recommend!” Teagan suggested.

Squirm gave her a look of disapproval and turned away. “I will not join the club, Teagan. I’ve expressed this before, I believe.” After a pause, he added, “Can I not enjoy my hobbies silently?”

Teagan sighed and shook her head. “I never said you couldn’t. I’m just saying the spot feels... empty without you. Is it wrong of me to want to invite a friend?”

“I… suppose not, even if I believe you’re acting a bit hasty to refer to me as a friend. But let us not discuss it here; you came to me for a reason,” Squirm asserted, taking his book from her hands and sitting up. “What is it?”

The teacup had expected him to immediately assume she had a request, but she couldn’t help smiling to herself as she said, “Would you like to join me for a tea party?”

“And who else will be attending?”

“You're the first person I've asked.”

Squirm gave her another look. “Fine, I will accompany you. But I am not entertaining any more ideas about the book club.”

"Deal!" Teagan beamed.

With the teacup’s keen knowledge of where most Toons liked to hang out, the duo managed to find many other Toons willing to join her party: Goob, Eclipse, Connie, Gigi, and Vee. They were all chatting amongst themselves while walking towards Teagan’s room, the place she wanted to hold her party.

“Hey, Teagan,” Gigi began, tapping her on the shoulder. “I heard that you have a list of ‘banned’ Toons from your parties. Is that really true?”

“I heard about it, too!” Eclipse chimed in from their left side. “Who’s on it?”

Teagan chuckled at their curiosity and nodded. “I don’t like using the word banned, but there are a few Toons who are… prohibited from them. Namely the ones you’d expect.”

Gigi thought to herself for a silent moment before asking, “Astro?”

“Yes, he’s on the list. So are Yatta, Shelly, and Scraps.”

Eclipse opened her mouth to gasp, but then looked up in thought. “Astro because he yells a lot, Yatta because she keeps playing pranks, Shelly because… she’s Shelly, and Scraps because she steals the teacups, right?”

“I’d love to invite them back when they promise to behave, but…” Teagan sighed. “They don’t seem that willing. And, given his recent behavior, I was thinking of adding Dyle to the list.”

The mention of Dyle made Gigi and Eclipse look at each other with expressions of understanding. They both knew how troublesome he could be in parties that involved the Mains, and they simultaneously shuddered at the idea of a tea party with both Dandy and Dyle attending.

“I guess you really don’t want drama in your parties,” Eclipse noted. 

“One-on-one sessions are more Cosmo’s thing, anyway,” Gigi added. “He’s sweet like that.”

Teagan suddenly stopped in her tracks and turned right, causing the two girls to almost bump into her. “We’re here!”

The other Toons stepped inside the room and gasped in wonder at the prepared decor, which included a circular table in the center with exactly enough cups for everyone. Triangular sandwiches and baked treats were layered on a tea stand, and each chair had a napkin placed purposefully on the seats of the chairs.

As delicately as she could, Teagan picked up the tea kettle and peered inside, smiling at the hot golden liquid that swished around. “Everyone has their own seats; please don’t sit in anyone else’s. The red chair is Connie’s, the green chair is Goob’s, the blue chair is Vee’s, the white chair is Eclipse’s, the gray chair is Gigi’s, and the brown cushion is Squirm’s.” She was too humble to admit it out loud, but she was proud of herself for preparing so efficiently.

The Toons settled into their respective chairs and waited patiently as Teagan made her way around the room to pour their teas. She had memorized what each Toon’s favorite flavor was, but given she hadn’t predicted the exact number of guests, she decided to serve plain chamomile. Despite the mistake, the others were all grateful for the tea, and quickly began chatting amongst themselves.

“Are you wearing a different sweater today?” Goob asked the gachapon sitting to his right.

Gigi shook her head and took a bite out of a sandwich. “Nope. Same design I always wear. Are you interested in sweaters? I think you’d look good in one.”

Given his clumsy arms, Goob was given tea inside of a spill-proof bottle. It refused to leak any drops of tea, even when he knocked the bottle onto the ground accidentally. He quickly picked it up and said, “Really?”

“Winter’s coming up, so why not?”

“If you can find one with long enough sleeves, sure.”

“I’m sure we can find one!” Connie interjected, her ghostly tail wrapped around one of the red chair legs. “If not, you can always ask Shrimpo about it. He’s really good at sewing.”

Gigi tapped her chin with her sleeve. “We could do that. Oh, only if Goob’s up to it, though.”

Goob smiled at her consideration. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll try my best.”

On the other side of the table sat Squirm, Eclipse, Vee, and—when she finally sat down after making sure all the Toons were comfortable with their seating arrangements—Teagan. 

“I’m really glad you decided to invite me,” Eclipse admitted to Teagan, her wolfish tail brushing against the wall behind her. “These are really fun!”

Teagan waved her appreciation away with her hand, but her eyes contained a bright sparkle that only shone when others shared their enjoyment of her parties. “I’m glad you decided to come back after what happened last time. Making sure my well-behaved guests are comfortable is my top priority!”

“What happened last time?” Vee asked from beside her. 

Eclipse gave the television a look, as if she had forgotten Vee was attending for a moment. “It’s okay, you can know. I don’t really remember much of it anyway.”

“I had wanted to do a space-themed tea party,” Teagan began, “so I held it in the lobby, where we can see the sky. I made sure all the ceiling lights were off, and strung decorative lights around the party. I had thought that the lights would be enough, but they made Eclipse much too uncomfortable. As you can see now, my room is very well-lit.”

“I still feel guilty about knocking over all of those pretty cups…” Eclipse muttered, burying her head in her paws.

Squirm patted her shoulders reassuringly. “From what I saw, you didn’t break anything. Everyone else agreed that none of it was your fault.”

“I... Thanks, Squirm.”

Teagan turned to face Vee as she commented, “I rarely see you attend these. May I ask why?” in response to the reserved look on Vee's face.

Surprised and unnerved by the question, she placed her hands on her lap and squeezed them together. “Isn’t it kind of obvious?”

“What do you mean?”

“...Well, I feel a bit like a waste of space when I go to your tea parties. You spend so much time making the tea and the food, and I can’t really enjoy any of it.”

“You’re not a waste of anything, Vee,” Gigi assured from her left, apparently done with her other conversation. 

Connie nodded vigorously from the opposite side of the table. “Yeah! Tea parties aren’t just about the tea; they’re about talking and having a good time!”

“Teagan wouldn’t have invited you, had they not wanted you here,” Squirm added.

“If you’re ever not having a good time at one of my parties, just tell me, okay? I’ll find a way through,” Teagan assured. 

A green smile along with a few green lines of blush around her eyes appeared on Vee’s face. “You guys are really sweet…!”

Chapter Text

A sea of light greeted Astro that night.

Orbs of pure starlight floated amid fluffy clouds against a backdrop of eminence violet. Despite the sky-like surroundings implying that he was in the vacuum of outer space, faint sounds from the orbs still wafted through the air.

Quietly, Astro walked through the scenery, his light blue legs magically not sinking straight through the cloud underneath him. Instead of being watery and light, the texture beneath him was fluffy and solid. 

Soon enough, he arrived at a singular orb that was farther from the rest. It was slightly dimmer compared to the others, and if Astro peered closer, he could see the nightmare contained within.

Instantly, he recognized the figure of Boxten, who was infamously known for suffering from nightmares. That night, the unfortunate music box was dreaming about the times back when Gardenview was open. Strangely enough, fear radiated from the nostalgic scene, for when Astro looked closer, he noticed that Boxten was a ghost compared to his fellow Toons. None of them looked at, or listened to him. Eventually, he fell to the wooden floor, and tears began to pour from his eyes. 

Astro could immediately tell what the dream was trying to tell him: Boxten was afraid of being ignored by those around him. In its story, the dream version of him had come up with some sort of breakthrough, but no matter how hard he tried, no human or Toon would listen to him. It was a tragic fate that Boxten feared.

Astro had the ability to change his fate for a night. He could interfere with the dream and stop the torment. He could sit Boxten down and reassure him that the dream was simply a culmination of worry and fear. As gently as he could, he grabbed the orb with his telekinetic sparkles that substituted for hands, and simply held the nightmare for a good few seconds.

Without hesitation, Astro lifted the delicate orb up and threw it onto the cloudy ground as hard as he could. It shattered like glass the moment it hit the cloud, leaving millions of tiny shards stuck between the cloudy fluff. Any sound that came from the nightmare instantly silenced. Astro knew breaking the orb wouldn’t do any damage to Boxten or the dream, neither would it do anything to quell Boxten’s suffering. He simply did it because he, as he told himself, would rather do anything else than help the others through their dreams. He grinded his heel into the largest shard to make sure it would take another night to fully reform.

Astro was created with the powerful ability to see and manipulate dreams. The starry land of violet hues was nothing more than a crossroads that gave him the ability to do so. The left path led to the colorful, bright dreams of others; the right path led to the calm emptiness of deep sleep. Astro never turned left at the crossroads.

Satisfied by the destruction he had caused, Astro turned around and made his way towards the darker parts of the realm, prepared to sink into unconsciousness. Other nightmares called for help from their tiny circles, but he ignored each and every one.

Like every morning that had come before it, Astro woke up already irritated. He mentally began counting all the things that were souring his mood, including—but not limited to—a harder than usual pillow, a miniscule tear in his bedsheets, a flickering bedroom lightbulb, and the lack of fufilling sleep he had gotten.

With those grievances in mind, Astro slumped out of bed and walked towards the closet near his bed that contained several piles of the same exact blanket, along with rows of identical dark blue shirts and shorts. He grabbed one of each and stepped over to the stand mirror, quickly changing out of his clothes and putting on new ones.

He stared at his reflection for a few moments, taking in the natural scowl and tired eyes that were just as constant as the four hands that gripped his blanket. He raised one of those hands to rub his eye, hoping the action would ward off the fatigue that plagued him. The action proved unsuccessful, and Astro stomped off more irritated than before.

To his utter dismay, Brightney was the first Toon Astro saw in the elevator.

The lamp was the exact opposite of him in every way possible. She was always optimistic, curious, and held a wide range of electricity-related puns in her head. She never yelled, never argued, and never resorted to insults or fights. She also believed that she was good friends with everyone, including Astro.

“Good morning, Astro!” she greeted, a wide grin already plastered on her face.

“BAD MORNING!” Astro snapped in response. His exhausted brain could not come up with anything creative at that moment.

After a few seconds of blissful silence, Brightney asked, “Hey, Astro, ever try getting a good look at the stars?”

“I HATE STARS! THEY’RE TOO DUSTY!”

Brightney shook her head. “No, no, not the ones in your room that you gotta charge, silly! The real deal!”

Astro gave her a blank look. Despite his space theme, he had no interest in astronomy, and hated star-gazing. “I HATE LOOKING AT STARS! I HATE YOU!”

“Aww, don’t be so negative! Maybe you and I can stargaze some day!”

“I HATE YOU!”

Apparently satisfied with their one-sided conversation, Brightney got off the elevator at the lobby and waved goodbye, leaving Astro alone to make his way towards the Toon Rooms. He had business to attend to.

Once the elevator arrived at the strangely crowded floor, Astro made a beeline towards Glisten’s room. He had expected to find the shy mirror there, but the neat room was completely empty.

“He’s not in, buddy.”

Astro jumped at the voice and turned around to see Yatta leaning against the wall to his right. At the sight of her familiar smirk, he deepened his own and yelled, “I KNOW THAT!”

“Sure you do,” Yatta sarcastically agreed. She took another look at his crescent moon face and recoiled slightly. “Yikes; you look like you haven’t slept in years.”

“I HATE YOU LOOKING AT ME! STOP LOOKING!”

Before Astro could begin ranting about all the things he hated—and he hated many things—Yatta exaggeratedly yawned and stepped backwards. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I really gotta go now. Remember to attend the troupe's next show!”

Astro balled his fists underneath his blanket and cupped his mouth with his telekinetic stars. “HEY! GET BACK HERE! I’M NOT DONE YELLING AT YOU! I HATE NOT HAVING THE LAST WORD!”

Chapter Text

Per Finn’s request, the lights of the stage had been set to a barely visible degree, and the blue curtains had been drawn shut. Faintly, the sounds of an audience could be heard from outside. The excited whispers filled Finn with a great sense of nostalgia.

Brightney waved from the left side of the stage, signaling that the lighting was ready. Her puns were—in Finn’s opinion—less than humorous, but her talent with electricity was—also in Finn’s opinion—admirable. He gave her a nod, and the curtains began to rise in front of him.

“Deep breaths,” he whispered to himself. “For tonight, the spotlight is mine.”

The moment the audience saw the iconic nonchalant expression on his face, they began clapping and cheering as loudly as they all could. Finn closed his eyes momentarily, simply relishing in the sound, before opening them again and whipping out a microphone from behind him. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

The cheering intensified.

Satisfied with the response, Finn stepped forward and gestured to the closed curtains behind him. “Welcome, everyone, to another trivia night! This Sunday night, we’re doing something a little different than usual: teams!”

Despite the fact that Finn had organized teams for countless nights before, the audience was still delighted with the idea. In the back of his mind, he remembered the sounds of past larger audiences, ones filled with both humans and Toons. Those days had long since passed, but that fact would never dampen his professionalism.

“Eight Toons will battle it out using nothing but teamwork, strategy, and, of course, a bit of luck! Who’s excited to see who’s competing today?!” A well placed pause invited the audience to cheer even more. Before their voices could tire from shouting, he continued, “Time to introduce the teams!”

With that, the second curtain rose from behind him, and the stage was revealed.

“First up, Squirm and Connie!” Finn walked over and pointed his microphone at the pair. “How are you two doing tonight?”

“I’m doing awesome!” Connie grinned, leaning towards the microphone.

“Frankly, I’m quite excited,” Squirm admitted, adjusting his monocle shyly.

Finn nodded at their responses and then walked over to the second pair. A light from the ceiling turned on, illuminating two more figures from the darkness. “Next up, a very energetic duo, Ribecca and Tisha! Are you two as excited as team one– Hey!”

Before he could finish his sentence, Tisha grabbed the microphone and put it up to her mouth. “We’re doing SO WELL! Almost TOO well! We’re ready to WIN THIS THING, right, Ribecca?!”

“Yeah, we’re ready to win this thing!” Ribecca echoed.

“I can’t HEAR you!”

“We’re so ready!” Ribecca shouted.

Finn swiftly took back the microphone, gave Tisha’s frown a judging glance, and turned back to the audience. “What colorful duos we have tonight! Now, the third team here… Rodger and Glisten! How are you two doing?"

Glisten’s eyes darted around, taking in the faces of the darkened audience. “I-I don’t know, this was Rodger’s idea… I mean, I hope we can win, but…” He looked at his one-eyed friend for guidance.

With the exact opposite attitude, Rodger looked over at Finn and said, “We’re winning this one, definitely. Even during the vote-a-teammate-out section.”

“What?!” Glisten gasped, turning around sharply. “That’s a thing?!”

“Don’t start adding new rules, Rodger,” Finn scolded. “My show, remember? Speaking of which, let’s take a moment to reveal our final competitors!”

The audience’s breaths hitched in anticipation as the final stage lights turned on to reveal the final pair. Finn walked over and gestured to them as he announced, “Team four, Scraps and Dandy! What’s going on tonight, how are you both?!”

“Actually,” Dandy began, “I didn’t really get much sleep last night. See–”

“We’re gonna win again!” Scraps interrupted, climbing over the poor flower to get closer to Finn’s microphone. “And I’m gonna get the prize!”

Finn chuckled at her statement. A large part of him seethed at the fact that Scraps and Dandy were both chosen, but he pushed those thoughts down. He was a professional, and most importantly, he was their host. “Everyone’s so sure they can win, but only one pair will make it to the end… So, here’s how it’s going to go: in front of our contestants are several answering machines. A question will appear on that projector in front of them, and each team will need to submit an answer. Whoever correctly answers the fastest will gain points for their team. The goal is simple: whoever has the most points wins! Now, who’s ready for the first question?!”

The screen, which was situated above the audience’s heads, turned on to reveal a question screen. White text against a blue water-like background spelled out the words “FIRST SECTION: LITERATURE” before switching to a question with four possible answers listed below it.

“The first question is… What is the oldest form of literature? A: Fiction. B: Poetry. C: Drama. D: Nonfiction.”

The audience gasped as the sound of a buzzer rang just as Finn finished his sentence. The buzzer had been rung by the confident-looking Squirm, who gave Connie a nod before answering, “Poetry! I’m confident that, either written or sung, poetry was the first.” His eyes glanced at the screen, patiently waiting for his guess to be proven right.

Another buzzer rang, this time by Ribecca. “I think it’s fiction! It has to be!”

“Aren’t plays super old?” Rodger asked Glisten.

“Yeah, but–”

Not waiting for his reply, Rodger rang the buzzer and shouted, “C: Drama!”

“Three out of four teams have answered. Now, the correct answer is… poetry!” To accompany Finn’s announcement, the screen briefly hid the other options and flashed green. “Poetry was verbal before it was written down, but the first ever written poem was from very ancient times! Team one gets three points, since they were the only ones that were right!”

“You’re totally gonna win this section! You’re the book expert!” Connie beamed, playfully elbowing Squirm’s left arm.

Ribecca and Tisha didn’t look the least bit fazed. “Let’s get the NEXT one!” Tisha exclaimed, and the two shared a fist bump.

“We were too slow…” Scraps sighed. “At this rate, we’ll never win!”

Dandy patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t lose hope now! It’s only the first question!”

Finn turned towards the contestants, the spotlights’ beams reflecting off his glass skin. “Who’s ready for the second question?!”

Chapter Text

Vee was not invited to the gameshow.

Her lack of attendance was not a new phenomenon. She had never once been approached by Finn to take part, nor had she ever approached him to ask. What confused her the most was why he kept avoiding her.

When the Dandy’s World show was still on the air, gameshow segments would commonly serve as small intermissions during episodes; they were preferred over the advertisement breaks that plagued many other rivaling cartoons. The segments were often split into parts to persuade the viewer to finish the episode, and they were a massive hit, skyrocketing Finn’s popularity in the fanbase. Although the animated episodes that mentioned the gameshow were all scripted, after a while, the interrupting segments themselves began to be recorded in real life. Children could even come to the Gardenview Educational Center and Museum to participate in miniature versions of the official thing for prizes. Even Finn’s fellow Toons treated him like a celebrity, as if they weren’t stars themselves.

Every Toon was allowed to attend the shows for a chance to win. Some showed up more than others if they enjoyed doing them—though episodes that included Astro’s frustrated outbursts at incorrect questions often performed better than others—but everyone generally had an equal part, even Dandy.

Everyone, but Vee. She was featured in certain episodes, but she was never allowed to play in the live events. For years, she had wondered why, until she finally found the courage to ask Finn about it back when Gardenview was still open. His response was simple, but blunt.

“Uh, you’re a robot. You’ll cheat by searching up the answers instead of using your own brain.”

Vee had wanted to argue that technically, her motherboard performed the same types of functions as his organic brain, but she swallowed her anger and said she understood his worries. She told herself that it was Finn’s gameshow, and she was silly for thinking otherwise. Even when the building closed, and recording stopped, she respected his wishes.

That Sunday night, she had followed the crowd to watch the show and found a nice seat for herself near the back. She cheered whenever the audience did, her robotic voice intertwining with everyone else’s, and made mock gasping sounds when the audience gasped, though she was unable to let breath escape her digital lips.

Unsurprisingly to her, Scraps and Dandy won that night. Squirm and Connie were tied with them until Scraps utilized her nifty luck during the last section—the final section of every gameshow was always related to the ocean—to score the win. Finn’s thunderstruck expression while watching Scraps do an impromptu victory dance was priceless. The other Toons all clapped and cheered long after the curtain closed, but once they were finished, they found themselves waiting about 15 minutes to use the elevator back to their rooms. Vee was a very patient television, so she did not mind the wait, but still found the elevator’s weight limit strange.

Once she made the journey back to her floor, she collapsed on the nearest green couch and sighed. The night was literally draining, and she felt a deep fatigue in all of her limbs. She spent an hour simply lying there, regaining her strength, until she made her way to the Staff Only door that hid her room.

Then, a knock came from her door.

Vee sat up and rubbed her head. “Hello?”

“Are you still awake?” asked a voice that immediately energized her with its sheer positivity.

“The real question is, why are you?” she replied, opening the door with a growing smile.

Dandy stood outside the door, clutching a soft white pillow, his left hand paused mid-knock. “Well, the elevator was super packed; it took me forever to get up here!”

“Are you sure that’s it?”

Against Vee’s knowing tone, Dandy glanced at the floor as he added, “I maybe couldn’t sleep.”

“There it is,” Vee chuckled. “Wanna come inside?”

“Yeah!”

“Lost again!” Dandy exclaimed, looking up at the arcade machine screen in front of him.

“That was your 51st consecutive loss. Ready to quit?” Vee teased, leaning against the Gardenview Bake-Off arcade machine. 

Dandy crossed his arms against his green petal and scrunched up his face in concentration. “What’s a game I know I can win in… Oh! I know!” Without a second thought, he grabbed Vee’s arm and started running towards the opposite side of her floor as swiftly as he could. Given his stamina was much better than hers, Vee was exhausted by the time they reached the machine labeled “DANCE DANCE TOON.”

Vee couldn’t breathe the same way others did, but she crouched down and emitted exhausted, breathy sounds from her speakers for the effect. Her voice also wasn’t affected by how much energy she had in her body—unless there was none at all—but she still left gaps between words as she muttered, “Next time… don’t… run so fast…”

“Sorry!” Dandy sheepishly grinned, helping Vee back onto her feet. “When’s the last time you’ve played the DDT game?”

The question prompted Vee to look through her memory files. “October 9th, 2001.” After a pause, she added, “Or, you know, maybe around that time.”

“Then let’s play a round together!” Dandy stepped onto the machine and started it up, bouncing on his heels impatiently.

As expected, Dandy won each and every round they played.

Vee was an expert at games that required quick calculations, or tiring repetition. No one could beat her at Swimming Barnaby! due to its combination of the two factors. Despite her prowess, games that required strenuous physical effort immediately put her at a disadvantage. She could count the beats all she wanted, but if her legs exhausted themselves too quickly to move the way she wanted them, she was done for.

Her failure was disheartening for only a few seconds, as the moment she saw the overjoyed expression on her friend’s face as his feet tapped to the rhythm, she felt determined to persevere.

Once the final song ended, and another victory was counted under his belt, Vee checked her internal clock. “It’s already ten? We sure stayed up late.”

“Really? I thought it had only been a few minutes!”

“You know what this means.”

Dandy sighed and stepped off of the machine. “Next time, can we see if Sprout’s free? We could all bake something together again!”

Vee picked up the lime green bow that fell on the floor and placed it just above the upper right corner of her screen. The bow was her favorite, and most iconic, accessory. “We can talk about it tomorrow, after you’ve had a good night’s rest.”

Dandy clearly wanted to argue against her wishes, but he found himself rubbing his eyelids and stumbling towards her. By the time the two friends made their way to Vee’s room, he was already half asleep.

Chapter Text

Toodles stood before the nefarious pumpkin prince with a cardboard crown clutched tightly in her small hands. Wind blew through the Halloween floor with an ominous quality, as if the breeze itself had been awaiting them. Either that, or the ventilation was broken again. Toodles was convinced it was the former.

“Lay down thy weapon!” she ordered, pulling out her trusty sword. Despite its scrappy cardboard exterior, she fully trusted that the blade could cut through any material.

The prince gave a haughty laugh and thrusted out a blade of his own. “Thou hast traveled far, princess. Your, I mean, thy journey has been all for nothing, for thou can never beat me! What’s that smirk for?”

Toodles began chuckling to herself. Soon, it turned into a powerful and loud laugh. “Thou hast forgotten about my super-special-secret-weapon! It is the key to destroying thy, uh, thee!”

“What…?” Gourdy stepped backwards in shock, but he quickly gained back his composure. “Don’t tell me… Thou hast gotten the ultimate power of the stone beast?! The creature was sealed up decades ago, which is a really long time ago!”

With a confident grin, Toodles put on her crown and dug through her hastily-made cloak, pulling out a plush bone with rainbow fabric wrapped around the center. Before Gourdy could stop her, she wrapped her hands around the toy and squeezed.

The moment he heard the sound of squeaking, the pet rock Toon Pebble leapt from the darkness behind them and snatched the chew-toy mid-air, landing next to Toodles gracefully. “I’ve tamed the beast, and now I’m gonna defeat thine evil reign!” She pointed forward and yelled, “Stone beast, attack!”

At the sound of her command, Pebble launched forward and slammed into Gourdy with all of his weight. Before the pumpkin could retaliate, Pebble stuck out a tiny pink tongue and began licking Gourdy’s face repeatedly. Toodles crossed her arms on her chest and nodded, for her idea had subdued the prince.

“Pebble! Eww, you’re licking my mouth! Ew, ew, eww!” Gourdy protested to no avail. “Okay, okay, I give up! You win!”

“Hah!” Toodles cheered. “I knew you were no match for him. Come on, Pebble, give him a rest. Focus on your chew toy!”

Once Pebble climbed off of him and he was able to move, Gourdy stood up and brushed the dirt off of his sword. “Thou hast bested me in battle… And with that beast, no less! How didst thou do it?”

“I don’t reveal my secrets!” With a complete change in demeanor, Toodles patted Pebble’s head and said, “I’m kinda hungry. Wanna stop playing and get a snack?”

Instead of breaking character, Gourdy closed his white eyes and looked away. “This isn’t just ‘playing,’ Toodles. This is role-playing. Very serious business.”

“Oh, right, right, okay! But aren’t you hungry?”

“Hmm… a little. We could ask Cosmo if he’s made any snacks.”

“Good idea!” Toodles gestured for the two to follow her as she skipped towards the elevator, dropping off her crown and her sword on a nearby table.

As expected, Cosmo was the one responsible for the sweet smells that greeted the two kids and the rock. He had his back turned towards the kitchen cabinets, and only noticed the group once Toodles tugged on his sweater and looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Want a treat?” the pastry asked, already suspicious of their sudden arrivals. 

Toodles giggled and grabbed Gourdy’s large hands. “Do you have any freshly baked?”

Cosmo nodded and gestured to a tray behind him. “I had a feeling you two would come by. I baked some brownies earlier, if they’re to your tastes; from what I can remember, they are.”

“You always remember what stuff we like,” Gourdy proudly nodded.

“I try my best.”

Toodles grabbed the tray, and Gourdy grabbed two chairs from the nearby table, placing them next to an empty one. She took a seat and clapped her hands in excitement. “These look so good, Cosmo!”

“Definitely!” Gourdy agreed, passing a brownie over to Pebble.

Most pets, to Toodles’ understanding, couldn’t digest pastries like brownies. She had seen many pets back when Gardenview was open to humans, and she distinctly remembered a scene of a young boy watching in awe as Pebble went through several pieces of candy. Toodles had asked why the boy was so surprised, and he told her that his own pet dog—one who was noticeably not made of stone—was not allowed to eat chocolate. 

As the group began munching on the brownies, Cosmo walked over to them, hands already gripping another empty tray. “Toodles, have you decided what you’re going to be for Halloween this year? I know Gourdy doesn’t usually dress up, on account of his,” he paused and smiled, “ natural abundance of ‘spookiness.’”

“Uhm…” The truth was that Toodles had not thought of any ideas. She enjoyed the traditions of Halloween, but she had forgotten about all the planning needed to create a costume. “Well… I was gonna ask Soulvester for ideas…”

“Halloween is in 18 days,” Cosmo reminded her. “If you are going to prepare something, you should do it post-haste.”

Gourdy looked over at him and quickly swallowed the brownie chunks in his mouth. “What are you being for Halloween, Mr. Cosmo? Matching with Mr. Seedly again?” 

There was a brief pause as Cosmo, whose eyes usually held calm and maturity, stared blankly. Then, he snapped out of it and asked, “Do you know the book Frankenstein? We were discussing it earlier, and we agreed that we would match! I am not entirely sure how, but I will be Dr. Frankenstein, and Sprout will be the monster character.”

Toodles cleaned up her mouth with a napkin. “Isn’t the monster called Frankenstein? I never read it, since it’s so big.”

“Me neither,” Cosmo admitted. “I simply cannot find it anywhere here in Gardenview. Perhaps it’s not for children, even though it’s seemingly so heavily referenced in many other books.”

“You should ask the Book Club if they have it,” Gourdy suggested. 

“Hmm… Good idea. I will pay them a visit tomorrow.”

Toodles suddenly jumped out of her chair and grabbed Gourdy’s hand again, thanking Cosmo for the brownies as fast as she could, and then running off to the elevator.

“H-Hey, where are we going?” Gourdy stammered. 

“To go visit Boxten! I wanna know what he’s doing for Halloween! And then I can get an idea for my costume!” Toodles explained. “Cosmo’s right; I really have to focus!”

Chapter Text

The soap had long since run out from the strength of the emergency shower, but still Squirm stood there, head drenched in lukewarm water. His hands shakily grasped at the wooden desk in front of him, but he dared not turn off the downpour.

Breathing proved difficult, not because of the water, but because of his frantic hyperventilating. Each breath left his mouth in a short, ragged motion, each inhale a mountain he needed to climb. The threat of suffocating from the surrounding droplets lingered in the back of his mind, but most of his thoughts were flooded with the sound of running water.

A sudden urge to vomit prompted Squirm to shield his mouth with his left hand, but that caused immediate regret, as his less visible secondary form of breathing—the one through what he tried to call his nose—became clogged with water. His impulse to vomit ceased, but tears hotter than the shower mixed with his bated breath caused a hacking cough to escape from him. The cough almost became a sob, but he gritted his teeth and convinced himself that crying was worse than suffocating.

After standing there for a seemingly endless amount of time, eyes pinned to the floor, Squirm reached over and shakily turned the shower off. The moment he did, the rain ceased, and he sighed in shivering relief.

The feeling did not last long, as another sob soon threatened to escape him. That time, he was weak to it, and he let out a short and miserable whimper. He clasped his hands around his mouth, then his forearms, then his head, weak to the waves of hopelessness that washed over him. Tears still stung at his eyes, though dabbing them with a towel softened the pain slightly.

Once he was completely dry, Squirm hung the towel on the nearest hook, put on his beloved monocle, and left the staff-only bathroom. The floor he entered did not help his mood, either. 

The library floor was the one he ended up in. The floor filled with shelves upon shelves of multicolored books was, at that moment, the last sight he wanted to see.

Squirm refused to think about books.

Before the literally gut-wrenching feeling of absolute despair could grip his stomach again, the elevator chime rang through the floor, and the comforting sight of one of the craft siblings encouraged Squirm to stand up straighter and pretend that he had not been having a breakdown just less than a minute ago.

Once he noticed the book worm, Goob walked over with a small piece of paper clutched in his left hand. His right hand trailed behind him like an affectionate stray cat. 

“Do you need anything?” Squirm asked with a cold look on his face. He wanted to seem more outwardly inviting, but he simply could not muster the courage.

Goob’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, and his asymmetrical eyes glanced away briefly, as if rethinking his visit. “Teagan told me about a book that you wanted to recommend to me. Actually, they gave me this long list of things to do, and this is just one of the things on it.”

The statement helped snap Squirm back to reality. “Right, right, I’ll get that for you,” he assured, walking over to his aqua-themed reading nook. He tried to quell his nausea as he picked up the poetry book he had left there the other night. “It’s a poem collection. I thought you might like it.”

“Oh, thank you,” Goob smiled, taking the hardcover book and turning it in his hands. “I saw your performance on the gameshow. You really know your stuff.”

“Books are my most prominent and iconic interest,” Squirm responded with a bit less ice in his voice, turning around and searching for another book. “Though Connie did surprisingly well in it, too. I’m surprised she isn’t in the Book Club.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t.”

Squirm froze.

Goob realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth, because he quickly added, “I-I didn’t mean it like that... I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“...What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Squirm snapped. He could feel the tenseness in the air with every fiber of his being.

A brief silence that felt like an eternity passed before Goob muttered, “What… happened there? You love books, so why aren’t you there with us? Did something happen between you and Teagan?”

Two sides raged a war in Squirm’s mind. One side wanted to admit everything in his head—every trouble, every nightmare, and every insecurity nestled between—to the kind craft, but the other side writhed in agony over the idea of placing his trust in someone he barely knew. He reminded himself that he barely knew anyone; he had no friends, and he saw every other Toon as nothing more than an acquaintance.

Squirm turned around to face Goob, his eyes betraying his every thought. “I don’t owe you anything, therefore I don’t need to tell you anything. Leave me alone to my thoughts.”

For a second, Goob appeared as though he was going to stand his ground and stay. Then, his eyes softened, and he gave a slow nod. “Uhm… thank you for the book,” was the last thing he said before turning around and walking off. Eventually, the elevator rang its exiting chime again.

Once the coast was clear, Squirm collapsed onto one of the bean bags and sighed, his eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. He knew that admitting his secret would benefit him greatly, but he couldn’t help his unstable demeanor.

One eye cracked open and caught sight of a poster taped above the bag. The title, Squirm the Book Worm, was above a drawing of Squirm alongside a short paragraph: “Squirm is a smart and professional bookworm with a habit of chewing on every book he reads! His unkind tendencies often make things difficult for him, but he always tries his best!” A deep loathing of the poster quickly filled his being.

He despised his unfitting name.

He despised his nonsensical title.

He despised his insulting description.

Most of all, he despised his constant cravings. Due to the fact that he was created with them, Squirm was expected to simply deal with them. His issues were comedic to most audiences, which never helped with proving his case of wanting to heal to others.

With regretful thoughts of his tone towards Goob fresh in his mind, Squirm sat up and grabbed the most distracting book he could find from his bookshelf, determined to force himself to feel better.

Chapter Text

Halloween was, by far, Poppy’s favorite holiday. She was not fond of the candy eating, or the trick-or-treating—though she would never say that out loud, given her infamous taste for fizzy drinks—due to the fact that her interests mainly lied in the costumes. She had a taste for fashion, and she was already planning to outdo her spectacular outfit from last year, just as she had the year before that.

A Toon named Soulvester greatly assisted her every year. While Poppy was an exceptional fashion designer, Soulvester knew how to bring her visions to life. Together, when it came to costumes, they were an unstoppable force.

That Tuesday, just 17 days before their deadline, Poppy brought all her supplies over to the Halloween floor, where Soulvester was waiting for her in light pink and navy blue armor. 

“Wearing a costume while making costumes?” she teased, mentally checking off a list of supplies.

“Art we not always technically wearing costumes?” he countered, arms clutched around several rolls of fabric.

“If you put it like that, I guess. We have all the supplies we need, by the way.”

Soulvester picked up a notebook from the pile of objects and flipped through its pages. “Who can we see right now?”

Poppy glanced over his shoulder and caught brief glimpses of his several ideas. She appreciated his planning, but she was sure that she was the actual main designer of the duo. “I asked Blot, Sprout, Yatta, Glisten… uhm… Wee–”

“Vee?” Soulvester corrected.

“Yeah, Vee, right,” Poppy dismissed. “Her, Brusha, Shrimpo, and Dandy to come down ASAP.”

Soulvester seemed to frown under his armor. He looked over at her and asked, “What about everyone else?”

“Well…” Poppy brought her hand to her chin and thought about her next words carefully. “A lot of Toons just want to make their own costumes by themselves. I didn’t ask Astro because, well, his energy is just so uncouth, you know? Also, I’ve, like, never seen Dyle dress up before, and my memory is perfect! The book club is meeting, too.”

“I see,” Soulvester muttered, looking away. Poppy was intrigued by his sudden silence, but before she could ask about it, they heard the elevator’s ding echo across the floor. “Seems one came early.”

Just as she had promised a day before, Vee arrived at exactly 2:00 PM. “Was I supposed to plan out an outfit this year?” she asked once she was near the two. “I haven’t been really thinking about it.”

“Nope. Your spectacularly perfect friend Poppy has already designed something! We just need you to try stuff on,” Poppy assured, stepping behind Vee and gently pushing her towards the pile. She could have sworn that she spotted Soulvester rolling his eyes, but she pretended not to notice.

“Oh, okay.” Vee awkwardly stretched out her arms and made a T-shaped pose, somewhat prepared to model. 

The two fashionistas immediately got to work. They shared their ideas and, with Vee’s hesitant permission, got the green light to start shaping out the outfit. As they worked, Poppy’s idle chatter became less and less prominent as she focused on her work more. However, she couldn’t help but notice how uncanny Vee’s ability to stand perfectly still was.

“How are you not tired of standing yet?” Poppy finally asked while comparing two seemingly identical rolls of fabric. 

Vee gave her a perplexed look. “I don’t get what you mean.”

“Thou hast been standing there for nearly an hour, now,” Soulvester explained. He brought over a few stray pieces of lime green fabric and compared it to the color of Vee’s head. “Most get tired when they do. Standing still is a necessary skill for models; thou should be proud of thyself.”

The compliment didn’t seem to have the same effect as Soulvester imagined it would, but Vee still smiled and said, “Thanks.”

“Why not talk about something to distract yourself? I bet it’s boring up there—for you, I mean,” Poppy offered. “I’m very patient.”

“Sure!” Vee paused before asking, “Have I ever told you two about electromechanics?”

Soulvester and Poppy shared a look of regret. Before the two could say something, Vee’s tone cheered up and she began speaking in a very practiced manner. “Electromechanics is, to put it simply, the combination of both electrical and mechanical engineering. I don’t know much about engineering, but you can bet I know all about the other stuff! See, the first electric motor was invented in 1822…”

As more time passed, Vee kept talking. Even as Poppy stopped responding to her occasional rhetorical questions, she continued to explain the history of several electric inventions, which led her to the topic of the invention of long-distance communication technology, which led her to the invention of the typewriter, which led her to the invention of personal computers and how those decreased typewriter usage, which led her on and on, without taking a break. Most Toons often noted how Vee always tried to seem as non-mechanical as she could, but the moment she got excited, she would drop her habits and spew information like a sentient calculator to anyone willing to listen. The average Toon could listen for a maximum of around 20 minutes before politely asking her to stop.

After another thirty minutes, Soulvester clasped his hands together in finality. “I think we’re done.”

“Which led to the… Oh, you’re done already?” Vee innocently asked. She looked down at herself, and a wide smile slowly formed on her screen. “Wow, this looks really good!”

“We were inspired by your speech, I mean, very entertaining talk,” Poppy explained, gesturing to the acid green shawl with square patches of white fabric sewn randomly about it. Underneath the shawl, Vee wore a black top with wide straps and black bootcut pants with plastic honeydew green chains around her waist. The designers planned to paint her skin a much more yellow hue, but given it wasn’t Halloween yet, they decided not to.

While Soulvester was helping Vee take off the shawl to store until the holiday, the elevator rang, and another Toon walked into view with a small smile on her face. That day, her white off-shoulder sweater was replaced with a more brisk beige T-shirt.

“Did I come at a good time?” Brusha asked. She noticed the shawl Soulvester was holding and gave it an approving nod. “I see you two are as busy as ever.”

“Thou hast come at a good time. We just finished up Vee’s outfit.” To prove his statement, Soulvester gently laid the top and pants on a nearby bench.

As she walked closer, Brusha looked over at Vee and jumped a bit. “Oh, Vee, I didn’t see you there.”

“...Uh, yeah, I get that a lot.”

Poppy flipped through Soulvester’s designs and found the one he had made for Brusha. “What do you think of this, Brusha?”

“Let me see…” The paintbrush scanned the design for a good minute, her face as still as stone. Eventually, she looked up and said, “I like it.”

Soulvester and Poppy gave each other a look and quickly got to work.

Chapter Text

“Boxten, Boxten!” Tisha shouted, running into his room out-of-breath. “You GOTTA help me!”

“Calm yourself, Tisha,” Boxten cooly replied. He adjusted his jabot and swiftly turned around to face her. “What seems to be the issue? Have you lost something?”

Tisha shook her head and stepped closer, bringing her hands to her chest in fear. “No, no, not THAT! It’s…” Her voice quieted to a whisper. “It’s about Shelly!”

“Shelly, hm? How about we take this to a more… private location?” Boxten suggested, his curiosity already piqued. With her permission, he led her towards the nearest staff-only door and carefully closed it to avoid any onlookers. Once he was sure that their words would not reach prying ears, he switched on a tiny lamp—he had mistakenly led her to a room as big as a closet—and asked, “Now, sit down and tell me your worries.”

With a sigh, the tissue box made herself comfortable on a small cushioned chair. She rubbed the back of her head and explained, “I don’t know how to say this, but… Shelly hasn’t been HERSELF lately! I don’t wanna say it, but… I think…”

“You think…?”

“I… Oh, I REALLY don’t want to say it!”

“If it warrants such a reaction, I can promise to keep the subject matter anonymous.”

“I… I think Shelly is MAD AT ME!” Tisha exclaimed. Tears animatedly began to gather in her wide eyes, and dramatic sobs quickly bubbled out of her mouth.

Boxten expected to feel surprised at her outburst, but he knew that, when it came to Tisha, he was to expect nothing else but the unexpected. “Take a few deep breaths, and tell me why exactly you think so.”

“W-Well, Shelly’s been my BEST FRIEND since forever! She’s always been super nice to me, always helping me clean up the messes I make… and I make a LOT of messes! Like, a LOT!” Tisha said as-a-matter-of-fact. “But lately, she hasn’t been hanging out with me as much. Anytime I see her, she tells me she’s busy and runs away! I don’t know what I did to make her not wanna be friends anymore…”

“You must understand that, when it comes to interacting with Shelly Fossilian, you are an outlier. She treats most Toons with varying degrees of disrespect, which is why her reputation is so… not good, so to speak.” Boxten found the fossil's aloofness tiring, especially given her interviewee potential. “Her fondness for you is admirable. I’m very sure that this is simply a rough patch.”

Tisha wiped her tears away with her thumb and asked, “You REALLY think so?”

Suddenly, Boxten was struck with a brilliant idea. A plan began to form in his mind, one that could possibly end with securing a long awaited interview. He hid his excitement in his tone the best he could as he assured, “If you’d like, I could help you with rekindling your friendship. However–”

“Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!” Tisha suddenly shouted, all prior sadness having melted away as she grabbed his hands and frantically shook them. 

“Hold on.”

Tisha paused and gave him an innocent look.

“I have a request—a very small one. Simply put in a good word to her, or mention that I helped you in some regard, and I shall do my best. Is that alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, YEAH! I can TOTALLY do that!” she nodded.

As the two walked out of the closet, Tisha began to recall what exactly had transpired the day before. 

“Shelly’s always liked TV and stuff, but lately, she’s been REALLY into tapes! She always tries to get everyone to buy stuff from her, but I don’t really mind—I like helping my friends out! Anyway, I was talking with her last week, and she said that she ‘expected more sales’, so I told her that I’d help her get more tapes, and she got really really happy. The thing is, I thought she meant STICKY tape, so I got all the rolls I could find and put them on her floor, but I sorta… maybe… got myself all wrapped up in the tape! I ended up waiting for an HOUR for someone to save me, and a bit after I fell asleep, Shelly appeared and looked REALLY mad! She spent a long time helping me out of the mess, and I apologized a ton, but she was still super mad…”

The two sat down on a nearby bench, and Boxten attempted to sooth her worries the best he could. “Being prone to accidents is not a trait you can control.”

His advice was not without reason; Tisha’s main gimmick in the show was all about how often she got into messes. Although her design was consistent with her light sky blue skin, cutesy freckles, and dark blue shorts, she was usually seen in real life with splotches of other colors on her skin. Sometimes it was paint, sometimes it was marker stains, and sometimes she was found inexplicably covered in dirt. Every day meant a new mess for her, but she never seemed saddened by her habits. In fact, her smile always brightened whenever Shelly agreed to help clean her up—no doubt Tisha enjoyed the company.

“How should I make it up to her?” she asked defeatedly.

“A conundrum indeed… Perhaps a baked good could sooth her heart. Asking Cosmo to assist you would be wise,” Boxten suggested.

As if on que, Gardenview’s resident pastry-like Toon rounded the corner and, once he spotted them, walked over. “Good morning you two.”

“COSMO!” Tisha shouted.

Cosmo flinched slightly at the volume and hesitantly asked, “Yes? What is it?”

Boxten laid his hand on Tisha’s and explained the situation. After a moment, he added, “I understand that your opinion of Shelly is… subpar, for lack of a better word, but–”

“My opinion deserves a much more detailed description than ‘subpar’, Boxten,” Cosmo responded coolly, crossing his arms on his chest. “I am not fond of her, nor will I ever be. I had assumed that your opinions resonated with mine.”

“...Yes, my mistake,” Boxten muttered, but quickly picked his normal tone back up. “Regardless, Tisha is currently—to my knowledge—the closest Toon to her. If their relationship were to be strained, I fear prices may go up, if you understand my implications.”

Cosmo sat down on his left and nodded. “Just one question: are you truly doing this out of the pure kindness of your heart? Or are you simply looking for your ‘next big scoop?’”

“Ambush journalism is very different from investigative detective work. I do not do everything just for my investigations.”

There was still a skeptical look in Cosmo’s eyes, but he brushed it aside and looked over at Tisha. “Would you like to make cupcakes?”

“I’d LOVE to!” she agreed, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just happened.

Chapter Text

Gigi was in the middle of organizing her room when she heard an unexpected knock on the doorframe.

Given her room’s lack of a door, she only had to turn around to see Goob standing just outside the confines of her bedroom, his large hands mid-knock.

“Back from Book Club? How was it?” she asked, dropping the boxes she was holding and gesturing for him to come inside.

“It was nice.” Judging by his tone and uneasy posture, Gigi guessed there was something he needed. Her theory was proven right once he added, “Could I ask you something strange?”

“Sure. I don’t know if I’ll be able to answer if it’s too strange, though,” Gigi said.

Her humor fell flat as Goob walked closer with a perturbed expression and fidgety hands. “Do… Do you know why Squirm left the Book Club?”

“You’re right; that is a strange question.” Gigi dug deep into her memory to no avail. “I don’t really know. Did you come to me to see if I had anything on it?”

Goob nodded. “I was thinking you had some sort of… object you found that could explain why.”

Although Gigi was very open to the idea of helping out her friend, something about his question made her suspicious. “You’re usually not the investigative type,” she commented, crouching down and beginning her search through one of her many drawers. 

“Ah, yeah… It’s just, well, I recently had a conversation with him that made me curious.” He left his sentence vague and mysterious, but Gigi didn’t feel inclined to pry any further.

“Okay, well, could you look at those drawers over there? The rows are sorted by object type,” she suggested, pointing at the far corner of her room. “Shrimpo helped organize, of course.”

Goob got to work, and after a few minutes of searching, the craft triumphantly pulled out a sheet of paper. “I think I found something!”

Gigi walked over and glanced at the wrinkly page, taking note of its writing.

Dear Teagan,

 

I regret to inform you that, as of today, I hereby resign from my position in the invitation-exclusive Book Club. This is all due to personal reasons, and is not at all related to any behavioral issues regarding other club members. I wish you luck in finding someone much more suited for my place. My love of literature has not at all been deterred by this recent change of events, so I beseech you not to worry about my well-being.

 

Best wishes,

Squirm.

 

PS Please do not contact me in any way, shape, or form for several days after receiving this letter. I am currently working through some things, and I need time to figure out what exactly I am.

“This feels… oddly sad. Like he was trying to be as unemotional as possible,” Gigi said, taking the letter into her sleeves.

Goob frowned. “That last part is crossed out, isn’t it? I can sort of make out what it says, but what’s with the ‘figure out what exactly I am’ part?”

“I don’t know. How about we ask Teagan about it? This letter is for her, so maybe she has a follow-up letter,” Gigi suggested. She was surprised at her level of interest in the book worm’s affairs, given her usually introverted nature, but her curiosity made up for it at that moment. She wouldn’t compare herself to the likes of Boxten, despite her motivation.

“Hmm… Good idea, but are you sure? I don’t want to drag you into something messy.”

“It’s okay. I trust your judgement,” she assured, walking out of her room and towards Teagan’s, which was very close to hers. To her relief, Teagan was also in the comfort of her bedroom that hour.

Having been looking at the doorway before the two came in, Teagan said, “Good afternoon, you two! Is something the matter?”

“It’s… Uhm, well, I talked with Squirm about the poetry book, and he said a few things that made me wonder a few other things, so then I came to Gigi and found this other other thing, and…”

“We want to know why Squirm quit the Book Club, if that’s okay,” Gigi interrupted.

Teagan’s mouth formed a perfect “O” as her eyebrows raised in bewilderment. She stammered for a moment before finally saying, “Well, I-I guess there’s no reason for me not to, given he never told me to keep it secret… You two should step inside for this.”

Despite the quaint interior, the air was immediately made tense by the strangely nervous look on Teagan’s face. She was well-known in Gardenview as an intelligent force of empathy and calm, but at that moment, her shoulders were stiff, her steps were small, and when she offered the two tea, she eyed the cups like they were going to grow teeth and bite her. She did not appear scared—to Gigi, she seemed uncomfortable and unsure. Still, the duo accepted the tea and sat down to listen.

“You two are aware of Squirm’s whole… I don’t really like calling it this, but… ‘gimmick?’” she began.

“You mean him liking books? Or him being a worm?” Goob asked.

Teagan shook her head. “No, the other thing.”

Slowly, Gigi came to a realization, and blurted out, “That he used to eat books?” before she could stop herself.

“Yes, that’s what I meant. As you both know, one of Squirm’s defining traits in the show was that he often ate paper whenever he was nervous. That habit stopped during one of the later episodes—I really can’t remember which one—and his real self also stopped. That’s around the time he decided to join the Book Club, and Dazzle and I both accepted him in because, of course, he promised that he had changed. And we completely believed him because Squirm has a very serious personality; he would never lie to trick others. That is, we believed him… until he had that talk with him.”

Gigi put her cup down. “Who’s ‘him?’”

Teagan took a sharp exhale and stated, “He… had a talk with Arthur.”

Chapter Text

Shelly felt strangely cold that Wednesday, but she simply could not figure out why. 

On one hand, her make-shift shop in the lobby was infamously affected by the seasonal winds that blew through the ventilation system, and due to the fact that autumn was only halfway through, those winds had become piercingly icy for her. Her brown dress and boots were not meant for autumn temperatures.

On the other hand, Shelly had an inkling that her shivering was due to more emotional issues. She shoved those thoughts into the back of her mind as soon as they appeared and focused on warming herself up.

While she was busy looking through the scattered crates in her shop for any scarves or gloves, she was approached by a Toon who, with his light suit and thin bandana, appeared not at all prepared for the cold weather. The Toon, Boxten the music box, cleared his throat and asked, “Miss Fossilian, are you busy?”

Shelly turned around with a long green checkered sweater in her arms, which she then promptly put on. “Good morning, Boxten! It’s chilly today, isn’t it?”

Boxten raised an eyebrow. “No, not particularly. I find that it is quite warm today, as compared to the weeks prior.”

“...Huh?”

“Hm?”

“Well, what brings you here?” Shelly quickly slammed her hands down on the wooden countertop to change the subject, her eyes wide in forced tranquility.

Boxten’s expression briefly became one of uncertainty before he straightened himself up and gestured to his right. “Someone would like to speak to you.” He stepped aside to let a light blue tissue box nervously walk into Shelly’s line of sight.

Before Shelly could say anything, Tisha pulled out a plastic container and opened its lid. “SHELLY! I wanted to say SORRY for the tape thing! I MADE THESE CUPCAKES WITH COSMO!”

“And…?” Boxten elbowed her gently.

“AND… Uhm… And I HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE ME BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FRIEND!” she added.

Shelly was flabbergasted. Her patient facade fell away momentarily as she struggled for words. Eventually, she leaned away from the counter and chuckled. “Of course I forgive you, Tisha! Your ’tapes’ gift was… unexpected, but I am grateful for the thought!”

“So you’re REALLY not mad? I’m SO happy!” Tisha beamed. She pried open the container to reveal a few plain-looking cupcakes and pushed it into Shelly’s arms. “Here! I swear that no paint got into the dough!”

“Oh, uhm, I’ll eat them later,” Shelly assured, unsettled by her comment.

Tisha shook her head and began climbing over the counter. “No, no, I INSIST! Eat them NOW–”

Before she could finish her sentence, Tisha’s foot slipped, and her eyes widened as she fell face-first into the shop, briefly letting go of the container. Shelly instinctively reached up to grab them, and she watched in horror as Tisha clumsily collided with her, the two toppling onto the ground. Once she got her bearings, Shelly rubbed the side of her head to ease the ache, briefly glancing at her right hand to find that the cupcakes were safe and secure. She sighed in relief and looked up.

The only thing she could see was the surprised look on Tisha’s face with how close the two were. Faintly, she could feel Tisha’s breath on her shell-like skin as the tissue box exhaled. To her utter surprise, Tisha was warm. Her proximity alone melted away most of the mysterious cold that had seeped into Shelly’s being. Her light blue hands reached up to rub her light blue head, and for a moment, Shelly thought that she would say something about their conundrum. Time itself seemed to slow down as they stared into each other's wide eyes, and for a moment, everything was peaceful.

Then, after what felt like hours—but was actually only a few seconds—Tisha stood up. “ARE YOU OKAY?!” she cried out.

Shelly sat up and tried to snap herself out of her daze. “Please don’t climb on my counter; it exists for a reason!”

“Are you two alright?” Boxten asked, reminding Shelly that he was also there. He quickly helped Tisha climb back out of the shop and wiped his brow in fatigue. “Tisha, you must be more careful… At least the cupcakes are safe, I suppose.”

“I’m okay!” Tisha said with her usual airheaded tone. “Are you gonna try the cupcakes now?”

Shelly looked at the treats and slowly picked one up, examining it for any unwanted ingredients. She was sure that Tisha would not wish her harm purposely, but she was aware of Cosmo’s distaste for her, and wondered if the baker had overlooked a few measurements when it came to mysterious items coincidentally falling into the batter.

“Cosmo was mainly the one who whipped them up,” Boxten assured, clueless to her actual thoughts.

Against her better judgement, Shelly took a bite. She found the frosting mediocre, but the cake portion was exactly to her tastes. Once she was sure she had not digested a mixture of paint and batter, she smiled innocently and noted, “The chocolate’s amazing! Next time, though, if you want to apologize to me, just talk to me—or give me a few tapes! Those are always appreciated!” She put extra emphasis on the word tapes.

Tisha bounced on her heels. “Okay! WHATEVER you say!” She paid no mind to Boxten’s look of uncertainty beside her. “So… if we’re all good, then I GOTTA go pack my stuff for tomorrow’s run!”

“Oh? You’re joining? Well, I’m excited to see you there!” Shelly waved. She watched as the tissue box sped past her store, leaving the two awkwardly standing. Before Boxten could initiate an interview, she turned to him and said, “Look at the time; I have to go! See you during the run!” 

“I…” was all Boxten could make out before Shelly walked towards the back door and shut it behind her. There, in the privacy of closed doors, she pulled off her sweater and stared at it. She reasoned that the sweater must have been made for summer days, as the warmth she had felt with her longtime friend far exceeded the fabrics potential. 

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew the truth.

Chapter Text

The library floor was dreadfully warm that summer. The ventilation had broken only days prior, yet heat had already snuck into the building and nestled into every corner it could. Despite that, children from all over the world still came to visit the Toons as often as they could, once their schools decided to release them. Squirm enjoyed seeing more people mill around the Gardenview Education Center and Museum, but he wasn’t too keen on having to deal with the waves of toddlers that found their way into the library. His ‘reading nook’ was, to him, a glorified play place where parents could drop their toddlers off if there was space. If the child was too loud, the parent would have to come back and usher them out quietly, which made Squirm wonder what the point of it all was.

That evening, Squirm was helping Brightney clean out the section labeled Brightney’s Computer Lab; most Toons just called it the Lab. She spent a large portion of her daily “working” hours helping the older children use the computers to do their school-given homework. Unless the topic was about electricity, she had a hard time helping with the work itself.

“I must say, your knowledge of how computers function is remarkable,” Squirm complimented while throwing away a few random scraps of paper.

“Aww, thanks, Squirm!” Brightney smiled. “I’m positive I can teach you how to use them, if you wanna learn!”

Squirm shook his head. “No thank you. I much prefer paper books, but I am grateful for the thought.” Despite the two spending most of their time on the same floor, he did not consider Brightney a friend. He did not consider anyone he knew as a friend, for that matter.

Brightney put down a few boxes and clasped her hands together. “People only come here for a fuse hours, but by the time the day is over, it’s already so trashed! At least we got to it before the janitors did, huh?”

“I suppose.” Squirm paused and turned to look at her. “Brightney, have you ever considered that you may not be… the most suitable for your role? Not in a negative way, moreso in an… unprepared way.”

As he expected, she gave him a weird look. “Not really. Wire you asking?”

“I’ve just been thinking about a few things. No reason to be alarmed, of course,” he assured.

“Watt-ever you say!” Brightney glanced at the nearest computer screen and gasped. “Hey, it’s dinnertime! Are you gonna come up?”

Squirm shook his head. “You can go on ahead. I must speak with someone first.”

Brightney shrugged and ran off with a wave, shouting a few words of thanks before leaving via the elevator. Once the coast was clear, Squirm walked over to the same elevator, waited for it to arrive, stepped inside, and let the doors shut behind him.

Squirm tried to open the brown door normally, but to his disappointment, it was locked. He entertained the idea of breaking in for a second before he pushed the thought away, and considered more places he should search.

“You should be at dinner.”

The voice made him flinch in surprise, and he slowly turned around with an uncomfortable expression. “Good evening.”

The human in front of him frowned and echoed, “Good evening; why are you not with everyone else at dinner?”

“I wanted to discuss something important with you. I had thought that you were in your office, but it was locked, so…” Squirm broke eye contact and pretended that the off-white ichor-stained sweater in front of him was more interesting than anything else.

“What could you possibly need at this hour?” Arthur asked with a tone of impatience. His posture gave off the impression that he was needed somewhere else, as he always was.

“It’s about the new episode—the one depicting me getting over my… habit,” Squirm began, looking back up. “I certainly have those memories, but I believe my physical body has not been ‘updated’ the same way. I was wondering if this is a problem that can be easily resolved.”

After realizing that his dilemma was as urgent as he had implied, Arthur relaxed his attitude—though his professional mannerisms were permanent aspects of his personality. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No, I haven’t. All the visitors I have talked to believe that the episode reflects my current state. This includes the other Toons as well, of course,” Squirm assured. He found that being concise was best when talking to humans.

“I see. Then, describe how that ‘habit’ currently affects you. If it is small, it will be fixed.”

Squirm looked down again. “Physically, I feel the same as before the episode aired. Mentally, I feel as though I should be different, and I certainly want to stop.”

Arthur nodded, understanding the cryptic sentence. “How about this: wait another week, and if the problem has not resolved itself, we will talk about it again. This should be easy to do.”

The request was, to Squirm, quite a daunting task, but he dared not openly admit it. Instead, he said, “I see. Just, uhm, one more question.”

“Make it quick.”

“Yes, right, uhm… How am I a ‘worm’ if I have notable limbs? It’s written on every poster I see myself in, but I’m still very confused.”

That question was the apparent final straw for Arthur. His shoulders stiffened, and his austere frown turned into a scowl. “You are Squirm the Bookworm. If you continue to doubt your role, more serious things will have to be done. Do you understand?”

Squirm was undeniably flummoxed as he stuttered out, “Y-Yes, I do,” as quickly as he could. Despite his answer, he knew his confusion still remained.

“I have important things to do,” was all Arthur said as he walked past Squirm, took out a few keys, and stepped into his office. The door shut behind him with a slam, and there Squirm stood, alone. He was not surprised about the answers he had received, but the summer heat paled in comparison to the cold shivers that suddenly ran down his spine.

“I need to talk to Teagan.”

Chapter Text

Many Toons in Gardenview despised the Twisted versions of Razzle and Dazzle. Several prided themselves on their ability to push through the “skill-checks” of the cylindrical machines, but most considered themselves adequate at them. Eclipse was one of the more adequate Toons; she preferred to do other tasks during runs instead.

As the Toons explored the fifth floor, they found that the twins had decided to take a catnap right in front of one very empty machine, and discussions of who would take the risk immediately began.

“I think we’d rather not go near them,” fretted the original Razzle, with Dazzle nodding in agreement.

“Yeah… No thanks. I’m not doing that,” objected Rodger.

“We can’t stay here wondering who's going to do it all day,” noted Brusha.

“I, uhm, I can do it!” offered Vee with a smile on her face.

That smile faltered into a frown when the ever-confident Gourdy pushed past her and announced, “I can do it!”

“Gourdy, are you sure?” Eclipse asked, stepping closer to the red ribbons on the wooden floor. 

“Of course I’m sure; I can do skill-checks as well as anyone else,” he responded with a grin. “Watch this!”

With a lot more caution than he first demonstrated, Gourdy stepped over the ribbons and entered the ominous circle. He flashed Eclipse a thumbs-up before he walked over to the machine and began to turn the red handwheel. Soon enough, viscous black liquid began to flow into the glass cylinder, and the red circle turned green without the Twisteds waking up.

“Great job!” Ribecca congratulated once the pumpkin was safely away from the ribbon ring. Satisfied, Gourdy began to boast about his other machine-related achievements as the two walked out of the room, presumably to find a good place to chat.

A tap on the shoulder made Eclipse realize she was staring, and she turned around to see a concerned Soulvester look at her. “Art thou alright?” he asked.

“Huh? Y-Yeah,” she stammered, “I’m alright. I just… don’t really like extraction runs, you know? The Twisteds, the machines, the skill-checks, the…”

“The blackouts?” Soulvester finished.

Eclipse sighed. “...Yeah. The blackouts.”

“I’m sure this’ll all be over soon,” he comforted, stepping forward and holding out his hand for her. “Off topic, but what doest thee think about the play Poppy’s directing? I heard it used to be one of the theater twins’, but she took it over, and now she’s telling everyone to go watch it.”

“She’s right there!” Eclipse whispered, a hint of laughter in her tone. She glanced at the bubble in question, who was standing only a few yards away, wrapped up in a conversation with Rodger.

Soulvester shrugged. “What doest thee think about it, though?”

“I’ll come see it, definitely! She actually asked me about playing a part in one of the earlier versions with the old script, but I said no, since she was asking me to play a 'big bad wolf' character! Can you believe it?” Eclipse complained. Right after her statement, the elevator alarm rang throughout the floor, and the two began to make their way towards the source.

“Ah, yes, thou and thy defending of wolf representation. I assume thou rejected her?” Soulvester chuckled.

“Hey!” Eclipse elbowed him lightly. “I don’t want to play a role where I have to be a bad wolf. Even if it’s just pretend, I want to see a good wolf character on stage!”

“I was just teasing thee. I understand thy reasons for thy decisions, and you know I respect that,” Soulvester said, walking into the elevator.

Eclipse frowned exaggeratedly. “How’d you feel if there was, like, an evil knight in evil armor that you had to play as ‘cause you’re a knight?”

“I think I’d be more surprised at how that character acquired ‘evil armor.’ What makes armor evil?”

“Okay, you know what I mean!”

Before their silly argument could go on, the door shut behind them, and out popped a familiar shop and an even more familiar face from the hatch in the floor. Three items were for sale: a stopwatch, a Sprout-themed protein bar, and a bright red air horn. 

Poppy rested her right forearm on the countertop and said, “You’re looking more chipper than usual!”

After a small pause, Shelly gave her a look of disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“I agree. Something cool happen?” Rodger asked, pulling a few VHS tapes out of a plastic bag and handing them over.

Brusha came over to the shop and did the same, eyes glancing at the protein bar. “It must've been a really ‘cool’ thing.”

“I guess I am a bit more jolly today… But nothing in particular happened!” Shelly dismissed, handing the air horn to him. 

“Does that mean we can get a discount?” Ribecca asked hopefully.

Shelly laughed in quite the forced manner. “My prices are fixed!” she assured, seemingly amused by the groan of annoyance that came from half of the other Toons.

Ribecca looked unbothered. “Worth a try!”

With everyone set on saving up their tapes, Shelly closed the shop with a wave, and the elevator was once again filled with quiet uncertainty of the next floor. Eventually, the elevator did open its metal jaw once again, and the group warily stepped outside.

That’s when Eclipse heard her least favorite sound: a shaky flickering followed by the loud sound of the lights spazzing out and turning off. In an instant, darkness consumed the floor, and every gaze turned towards her.

“A Twisted Brightney? We’re getting some pretty bad luck,” Soulvester sighed. He looked over at Eclipse with worry in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to come out of the elevator?”

Eclipse opened her mouth as if she was going to speak, but her words failed her. Instead, she stood there, eyes wide in pure fear.

She figured her reaction must not have been as grand as she first thought, because Ribecca clapped her hands in excitement. “Ooooh, she’s gonna transform! This floor will be over in a second!”

The expectant words never reached Eclipse, because in order for her not to get stuck in the elevator until the group returned, Soulvester grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the wooden ground. The moment the darkness crept into her fur, her vision blurred, and she could feel her heart pound against her chest.

Eclipse hated blackouts.

Chapter Text

Brusha watched as Gardenview’s resident werewolf floated midair, her body facing the ceiling. Her arms and legs went limp against the pull of gravity—a force that seemingly decided to stop working for her—and she began to emit a blue light akin to a lantern. Eventually, her paws did touch ground again, but before anyone could comment about her sudden increase in height, or her hostile posture, she dropped down on all fours and sped off into the darkness, leaving behind only the faint sound of a wolf’s iconic howl.

No one was surprised by the transformation. It was Eclipse’s gimmick from the show, and her physical counterpart shared the same ability. At most, Brusha found herself amused, and she walked away from the scene casually, her only worries being about the endless darkness in front of her. 

She quickly found herself being followed by Gourdy Holloway, whose focused mannerisms gave her the impression that he was her self-appointed protector for the minute. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she could manage herself. “There are two machines in that corner over there. Could you do one while I do the other?” she asked instead.

Gourdy snapped to attention and nodded vigorously. “Of course I can! Oh, also,” he looked through his bag and blindly took out a piece of candy, “I have an offering to motivate you!”

“Oh… Thanks.” Brusha took the piece and unwrapped it from its purple plastic exterior. When she popped it into her mouth, she found herself strangely driven to extract ichor more sufficiently. She blamed the feeling on the sugar as she began to turn the handwheel.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, a menacing shiver ran down Brusha’s spine, and she instinctively grabbed Gourdy’s hand and slid behind a few crates. Although surprised, Gourdy followed suit and peeked out to see what had spotted the two.

“So, there’s both a Twisted Brightney and a Twisted Brusha on this floor… Who could the third one be?”

Brusha risked taking a look and frowned at the sight of her Twisted variant. Its empty eyes and limp, tangled bristles were a grotesque sight to behold. “I think I saw a Twisted Boxten capsule near the elevator,” she whispered.

Gourdy nodded. “Then I will make sure that no harm comes to anyone who accidentally picks it up!” With that announcement, the pumpkin got up and rushed towards the elevator to guard the capsule, leaving Brusha somewhat alone to finish the machines by herself. The solitude did not last long either, as a subtle red glow filled the area from behind her, and she slowly turned round with a hint of fatigue from the endless barrage.

The moment Twisted Brightney rounded the corner and spotted Brusha, her mouth curled into a nerve-wracking wide grin, and she began her chase. Brusha stood up with the intention of running to a safer location, but paused when she spotted the faint figure of what she believed to be Ribecca waving her arms around half-hazardly in warning.

In the blink of an eye, Eclipse leapt from the shadows and skidded to a halt in front of Twisted Brightney. Her irises had been reduced to slits, and she confidently bared the fangs she usually hid—out of aggression or glee, Brusha did not know. Twisted Brightney did not show any reaction to the move, and simply changed her target.

Eclipse’s grin widened, and with an uncharacteristic tone of malice, sneered, “Scared?”

With no response, she took one last glance to make sure the Twisted was following her, and bounded off towards another hallway. Soon after, the elevator alarm rang, and every Toon made their way to the exit, each one whispering about the impressive werewolf on their team.

Ribecca cheerfully followed Brusha, excitedly asking, “Eclipse is just so cool, don't you think?” 

“Not doing a lot of extracting, though,” Brusha commented neutrally.

“Hey, distracting the Twisteds is a lot of work!”

The last to arrive at the elevator was, unsurprisingly, Eclipse herself. Her landing was a bit clumsy, but the moment the door shut and the lights turned on, she stood up straight, her body having become its normal size again.

“Thine speed is as cool as always,” complimented Soulvester.

“Thanks for distracting the Twisteds for us!” said Dazzle.

Despite the support, she didn’t seem too happy to have transformed, muttering "...Thanks." Brusha shrugged the expression off as just her being nervous about the next floor.

Poppy tapped Brusha’s shoulder. “How many floors are left?”

“Uh… Ten, I think. Yeah, ten.”

Razzle sighed at the information. “I wish this was over already…” Everyone silently agreed with his words.

Chapter Text

Soulvester was an excellent extractor by all means. He found the strange machines to be much too easy to complete for a knight such as him, and could not help but feel confused at the sight of other Toons struggling with its mechanics. His personality was far from vitriolic—albeit with its fair share of bitter edges—so he helped those struggling whenever he could. 

There was another part of extraction runs that he simply could not improve on, no matter how much effort he put into it: running from the Twisteds. He was an accidental laggard when it came to escape, and his teammates had certainly noticed.

Ribecca carefully wrapped a small bandage over a cut on Brusha’s finger. “Have you been working on any new drawings yet?”

“If you’re asking me to show you, the answer is no. Sorry, Ribecca,” Brusha quickly answered.

“Aww, why not? I like seeing your art!”

“It’s her choice if she wants to share it or not,” Soulvester interrupted. “Besides, we’re near the end of the run, aren’t we? Thou should be focused on that right now.”

Poppy, who was standing rather nervously near the elevator door, dramatically sighed. “I guess it’s just up to you and me to finish the last floor. Well, I hope you all know this run is in perfect hands!”

“Hey, could you two close the staff doors on my floor? I’ll deal with the Twisteds and clean everything up later,” Vee asked, passing a box of chocolates over to Razzle and Dazzle.

“I’d imagine it’s pretty inconvenient to have a room on a lower floor,” Dazzle said, gratefully taking the box.

“It’s a double-edged sword, I guess.”

All chatter in the elevator ceased once the door lifted itself off the ground, revealing the familiar Vee-themed floor. Although the Toons had come to expect the usually unsettling ambience of a lower floor, another sound could be heard amidst the echoes of rattling pipes: the drenched footsteps of a large creature roaming the depths.

An expression of wariness appeared on both Soulvester and Poppy’s faces, though the latter was the first to speak up. “Uh, who is that? I can barely tell from here.”

“Not Twisted Pebble, that’s for sure,” Soulvester remarked. “It’s not very slow either. Who–”

The sharp sounds of growling interrupted him. It was a low, hollow sound with hints of low vocals that sent shivers of dread down Soulvester’s spine, for it simply could not have been made by any natural Toon voice. 

“...Twisted Shelly. Great,” he finished.

Poppy grabbed his hand and slowly pulled him out of the elevator. Her profound confidence from earlier had increased as she insisted, “This floor will be over in just a second, wait and see!”

The floor was not over in a second. 

Alongside Twisted Shelly, the duo found the floor occupied by a Twisted Ribecca, a Twisted Finn, a Twisted Cosmo, and a Twisted Shrimpo. Eight machines were scattered around the floor, each one desperately needing attention.

Twisted Shelly was a formidable foe worthy of the Main Character title. The lower half of her body had been replaced by an ichor-covered caricature of a dinosaur's skeleton—according to the real Shelly, it was most similar to a Majungasaurus, though Soulvester did not know what species that was—that was incredibly fast and strong. She constantly bore an exaggerated smile of flesh-tearing fangs that only widened when she spotted potential prey. A few ribbons of film were wrapped around her ribcage, and a small ichor horn in the middle of her forehead caused a few cracks in her head.

Twisted Ribecca had no noticeable quirks apart from a constant enraged expression. The Twisted versions of Cosmo and Shrimpo were similar, though Twisted Shrimpo was usually seen with a vacant expression and an ichor-covered wipe in one hand.

Twisted Finn was a stark contrast to his well-known Toon version. His legs had been apparently ripped off, forcing the Twisted to crawl towards its victims with a tearful scowl and giant ichor claws. Although he was fast on his own, his presence on the floor made machines malfunction in inconvenient—and occasionally deadly—ways.

Soulvester did fine at first. He avoided the Twisteds as stealthily as he could and powered through each machine he could find. Poppy did the rest of them, including the “treadmill” machines Soulvester had troubles with. Once there was only one machine left, the two met up near the elevator to discuss their plan.

“Twisted Ribecca is so annoying! She kept sneaking up on me while I was extracting. Obviously, I was able to complete it with ease, but still!” Poppy ranted, keeping her voice at a lower volume to not disturb the nearby Twisted Shrimpo.

“I think we should just go for the last one. Twisted Shelly is fast, but if she never sees us, we won’t have a problem,” Soulvester suggested. “I could complete the last one if thou could keep watch.”

“I can do that, of course,” Poppy agreed. She scanned their surroundings for Twisteds, and once the coast was clear, the two made their way towards the last machine that was hidden in a small nook, right next to two arcade machines.

Soulvester made a show of pretending to crack his ghostly knuckles before placing his hands on the red wheel and focusing on turning it. Immediately, the black pipe began to rattle as globs of ichor filled the container. It was an unsightly view, but the Toons had gotten used to it. Poppy stood nearby, eyes peeled for any unwanted interruptions.

“Hey, Soulvester?” she suddenly said around the midpoint of the machine’s filling.

“What is it?”

“You know how Twisted Finn makes the machines leak ichor when they’re completed, and it gets all over your feet and makes you super slow?” she asked.

Soulvester nodded as memories of his encounters with the Twisted played through his mind. “Yeah, I know.”

“Well…” Poppy seemed to juggle a few possible sentences before deciding on, “No offense, but you’re, like, really slow with that armor on. Since this is the last machine, if you were trying to get to the elevator and Twisted Shelly sees you while you’re still covered in the stuff… Maybe it’s better if you let me do it.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Soulvester approved, taking his hands off of the wheel. 

Poppy grinned and walked over to the machine while Soulvester sat where she was earlier. Being a decent extractor, the machine’s light soon turned green. The moment it did, a torrent of ichor spilled from the wheel and onto Poppy’s feet. She yelped in surprise and almost jumped up from shock, but the stickiness of the semiliquid substance kept her still.

“Come on!” Soulvester grabbed her hand and tried to pull her out of the mess, but by the time her legs were free and unharmed, it was already too late; Twisted Shelly had seen her. 

A roar echoed throughout the floor as the colossal Twisted began her chase. The two Toons scurried towards the elevator with haste, but they knew they couldn’t simply outrun Twisted Shelly. Being much less stealthy, Poppy was more of a prominent target, and as the two rounded the corner and their exit came into view, both Poppy and Twisted Shelly passed Soulvester, and he could see just how close Poppy was from getting her bow bitten off.

The Toons inside the elevator had noticed as well. They yelled at her to run faster, but given most of them were injured, they knew that they could not do anything to help. Soulvester knew he had to do something, but his inventory of items inside his bag was completely empty except for his lucky sword.

That was when Soulvester got an idea.

“Hey! Twisted Shelly!” he yelled, dropping his empty bag and striking the Twisted’s long tail with his flimsy light cyan sword. Although it did no notable damage, Twisted Shelly stopped in her tracks and turned her gaze towards her new target with an eerie open-mouthed grin. Soulvester realized the foolishness of his plan once she chomped down on his metal helmet as he tried to escape. Luckily for him, her bite could not penetrate his solid armor, and he managed to break free once she reeled back for another attempt. He soon made it to the elevator safely.

Poppy was not so lucky.

Soulvester had managed to distract Twisted Shelly, but all the commotion had alerted the attention of Twisted Finn as well. He spotted Poppy trying to flee and began to chase her, and, exhausted from her earlier sprint, he caught up to her swiftly.

It all happened in under a few seconds. None of the Toons knew what was going on until they heard her scream.

Chapter Text

The bite felt like knives digging into her skin.

One moment, she was running away from Twisted Finn with all of her might, each step costing more than the last. The next moment, what felt like fire erupted from her left ankle, and a piercing scream sliced through the air. It took a second for Poppy to realize she had even opened her mouth in the first place.

With her brain in complete overdrive, she tried to kick the Twisted away, and after a few strikes, Twisted Finn opened his jaw just wide enough for her to pry her leg out of his grasp. The last reserves of her energy neared their end as Poppy collapsed into the elevator. 

Although the strident growls of Twisted Shelly were silenced once the door closed shut, the cacophonous and panicky chatter still remained. She felt someone turn her over to examine her injury, but the sensation was faint due to the mind-numbing pain that sent shockwaves through her veins. She could not form a proper string of thoughts, let alone remain perfect for her peers.

Despite his face being blurred due to Poppy’s stinging tears, she was able to recognize Soulvester’s voice as he said, “Quickly, bite into this,” and brought an object close to her mouth. She tried to move her head away at first, but eventually gave in and bit down on what tasted like fabric.

“Pass me that health kit,” someone—Poppy guessed Soulvester—beseeched.

“Is she going to be okay?” another Toon asked.

“If thou decides to pass me the kit, she will.”

While the two were talking, Poppy tried to sit up and examine her injury, but a pair of hands gently grabbed her shoulders and forced her to lie down again. Another pair of hands approached her leg and pulled out a square wipe, hesitating for just a moment before placing it down.

Poppy had no clue what the wipe was coated with—even if she did, though, she knew she wouldn’t be able to recall it with her mind so foggy—but the moment the cold liquid touched her left ankle, a wave of agony hit her like a truck. She bit down on the fabric in her mouth as hard as she could to focus herself, aware that someone, somewhere, was screaming. She wondered if it was her.

Through her sobs and whimpers and extremely blurry vision, she managed to catch a glimpse of the wound and almost vomited at the gruesome sight.

Her usually bright yellow socks were splattered with jet black ichor, with even more collecting in a puddle around her legs. The bite had torn straight through both fabric and flesh—the latter being much more apparent—but not bone. The fluorescent lights inside the elevator impressively highlighted the almost blue tint ichor had that most rarely saw; the color could have been considered beautiful by her if the source wasn’t from her own torn veins.

Poppy, despite her iconic insistence of being utterly perfect, fainted from the sight and the extreme loss of ichor.

The smell of bacon was what brought Poppy back to consciousness.

At first, she was unsure of where she was. The world felt unfamiliar, like she had been sleeping for hundreds of years, and the outside simply went on without her. Then, her eyes adjusted to the light, and she realized that she was just in her room.

“Bacon is a much friendlier alternative to smelling salts, don’t you think?” The voice belonged to Cosmo, who placed a white tray full of food Poppy couldn’t see onto her right bedside table.

“I feel like I just got run over by a car,” she croaked.

Cosmo chuckled. “I’m positive a good meal will wake you up. Are you hungry?”

Poppy took a moment to focus on her body’s state, ignoring the dull pain of her wound and focusing on her stomach. “I’d rather not right now. How long was I out?”

“Not very long. You were brought here directly from the run.”

A few sarcastic words popped up in her mind, but all of them disappeared once she realized that seven different Toons had all witnessed her sob, scream, and faint due to one bite. “I… Uh…”

As if he could read her mind, Cosmo gave her a sympathetic look. “I heard that the others were impressed by how you persevered through the run. It sounded, to me, like they admired it.”

“Really?” Poppy gasped. She sat up and added, “Well, of course they’d be impressed; who wouldn’t?”

“Yes, yes, I agree.” Cosmo moved his hand towards her blanket and paused. “May I take a look?”

Poppy briefly frowned before resuming her usual smirk. “Take it away, Dr. Cosmo.”

With her permission, Cosmo lifted the blanket to reveal that her left foot had been entirely covered in white bandages. Flashes of the gore she had seen earlier echoed through her mind, but she dared not reveal how disturbed she was by what she saw. “See? I’m perfectly fine. Now, could you leave me to nap a bit more?”

“Just a moment.” He pulled the blanket back over her legs and gave her a serious look. “I know that you have been looking forward to it, but... I do not think that you are in fit condition to act in the play.”

“Excuse me?!” Poppy exclaimed.

“I simply think that you cannot perform with your ankle still healing,” Cosmo chided.

“But the play is in just a few days!”

“I understand that, believe me.”

Poppy scowled and looked away. “I’m doing perfect. I’ll just… do my parts without walking!”

The lie couldn’t convince Cosmo. “Is there anyone who knows all your parts? They could take over,” he suggested, making his way towards her door.

Poppy watched him leave without responding back. Her mind searched through her mental list of actors and crossed out the ones that she knew never memorized her lines. She eventually decided on two candidates: Vee—she had memorized the script, but was horrible at the acting part in Poppy’s opinion, despite her Main Character role—and Glisten, who was only there to help backstage. Poppy knew that she wasn’t fit to play the star; her body screamed it at her with every dull throb of pain.

Shy, stuttering, nervous Glisten would have to go on stage and play the main role. 

Poppy had no clue if she would even be able to convince him or not.

Chapter Text

Boxten flipped through his notebook and pulled out a pencil from its side. “Everything is set. Toodles, are you ready?”

On his right sat Toodles, her small hands clamped around a pocket-sized notebook and a glittery pen. “Yeah! Don’t worry, I got this!”

Shelly gave a tight-lipped smile as she impatiently fidgeted with her brown dress. She knew she had promised to let Boxten interview her—he swore to not bother her for “quite a while” along with a few VHS tapes in return—but the action of keeping her promise was much easier said than done.

“Usually, I’d prefer to do these in a more empty room—those give the ‘interviewee’ less distractions, Toodles—but my bedroom will suffice,” Boxten began. “After all, this is a very important interview.”

“Interview? Golly, I was half convinced this was an interrogation!” Shelly jested, keenly aware of her sarcastic tone. She was sure she knew how interviews with detectives worked, and she was determined to keep her secrets to herself.

Boxten half-heartedly laughed before clearing his throat and looking down at his notepad. “Yes, this should be considered an interview, and I do want you to feel comfortable. The topics of my interest have to do with all of Gardenview; rest assured, I am not conducting detective work on you in particular.”

Shelly almost rolled her eyes, but she smiled widely and placed her hands on her lap, readying for the incoming questions. “Then let’s get this over with, hm?”

“Right. Firstly, how are you today?”

“...What?”

“How are you today?” Boxten repeated.

Taken aback by the simplicity of the question, Shelly quickly regained her composure as she assured herself that it was simply a manipulation technique to force answers out of her later. “I’m doing great!”

“An extraction run took place today, yes? Is that a bonus to your mood?”

“Well, of course it is! I do enjoy running my little shop, after all! And today’s yields were definitely better than last time!” Shelly quickly caught herself rambling and politely stopped herself. “Ah, well, I usually have good days. I’m quite the optimist!”

Boxten wrote every word she said down intensely. She tried to get a peek at his notes, but he soon looked back up and sympathized, “It is a shame, what happened to Poppy. I imagine you see harsh injuries every Thursday.”

“From what I heard, hers was nasty, nothing like anything I’ve seen on a run! I’m good with seeing gory stuff, but yeesh…”

“You… heard?” Boxten glanced at Toodles and gave her a small, mysterious nod. “So, you did not see it yourself?”

“Huh? No, I didn’t… Does that matter?”

“Well, according to your own words, her injury was the worst wound you have ever witnessed on a run, yet you are ‘good with seeing gory stuff,’ a quality that takes time to improve.” Boxten gave her a suspicious glance. “Have you seen such disturbing things by your own?”

Shelly’s grip on the hem of her dress tightened unconsciously. She mentally reprimanded herself for slipping up. “Why, I've seen those Twisteds, of course! They’re super scary-looking—way scarier than Poppy’s hurt leg!”

Boxten relaxed his shoulders and leaned backwards. “Yes, yes, of course. Ah, speaking of runs, it’s also quite the shame that Tisha could not join. Apparently, she got into a messy—and I mean that literally, mind you—situation. Shrimpo spent quite a while cleaning her shirt.”

“Oh, that Tisha, always looking for trouble!” Shelly chuckled fondly. She had nothing but amusing memories of the tissue box.

Boxten nodded in agreement. “On the subject of other Toons, I’d like to know what you think about your fellow residents; specifically, I’d like to know your opinions on the other Main Characters.”

“Hmm…” Shelly weighed her options in her mind before deciding that divulging her opinions could not possibly impact her negatively. “Well, if we’re going alphabetically… Astro is, uhm… he’s very full of energy! Maybe a bit too much energy for me to handle, ha!” She paused to gather her thoughts for a moment before continuing. “Pebble is very very cute, but he doesn’t really like a lot of people, huh? Sprout’s also full of a different kind of energy, one I don’t exactly enjoy… His baking’s kinda eh, too… But it’s okay, since he’s a good friend to all! There’s Vee, who’s also pretty nice! All the Holiday Mains are interesting Toons, too!”

Toodles suddenly perked up and scribbled something down. “Hey, you didn’t mention Dandy!”

“Oh.” Shelly’s mouth formed a perfect “O” before she continued, “Right, yes, of course! Dandy is a very kind Toon; one could say he’s colorful, even! Very dedicated to all of his friends!”

“That was a very good catch. Your notes are looking good, too,” Boxten complimented. “Ah, I just have a few more questions for you, Shelly.”

“Really? Gosh, if this was how all your interviews are, I would have done this much sooner!” Shelly chirped.

Boxten flipped through his notes, and his tone suddenly became much more solemn. “Answer me this, if you will… Why, exactly, do you want those tapes so badly?”

Silence was the only response he received for quite a while. The three of them sat awkwardly before Shelly raised a finger to her mouth and said, “I don’t think I need to respond to that!”

“Then you have reasons to keep secret?”

“I have reasons to want to leave, thank you very much!”

A surprised expression appeared on Boxten’s face. He tried to salvage the interview by assuring, “I don’t have any intentions of accusing you, like I said before. I would rather you ignore the question than leave out-right.”

“Then I will ignore it!” Shelly huffed.

“I... see. Changing subject,” he flipped through his notebook again, “I want to present an object to you, and I want you to tell me what you know about its origins.”

Shelly took a breath to steady herself. “What is it?”

As if on cue, Toodles stepped past Boxten and looked through a few pieces of paper on his desk, eventually pulling out a faded yellow envelope. She skipped over to Shelly and handed it to her with a smile. 

“To Delilah” was written on the other side in Shelly’s neat handwriting.

Chapter Text

Echoes of silence never failed to feed the loneliness that seeped its way into Dandy’s broken heart. 

Broken was no exaggeration. Deformed and contorted—mutilated, if one were so inclined—were adjectives that described every inch of his being. Simply put, Dandy had become a monster.

The word had its negative connotations, but it was the only one he could think of that could describe his appearance. No other creature but a monster would have such deadly claws and disfigured anatomy, he told himself. Other synonyms of deadly popped up in his head, but he refused to think about them.

Being a monster, the only place he found fit for himself were what the Toons called the “lower floors.” Ichor-covered Twisteds roamed the halls endlessly, paying no attention to the giant thing that followed behind them. Usually, that behavior was the norm.

Dandy found himself struggling to deal with the only types of Twisted clones that could almost match him: the Main Character Twisteds. Although most of them ignored him, it greatly pained him to see the figures of his close friends be mutilated more than the common ones.

The first Main he saw on one of the warehouse floors—the one with the expanse of dark gray flooring in between the two ends—was a Twisted Vee. He had spotted her making her way through the area with a glitchy grin on her digital face, searching for Toon prey. Although it was not very monster-like of him to do so, Dandy stopped in his tracks and watched her for a minute, immensely grateful that the real Vee was safe above his head. That Vee was nothing like the belligerent Twisted in front of him.

The second Main came as a surprise to him. After unsuccessfully looking for loose tapes between two machines, Dandy turned around to find himself face-to-face with a Twisted Pebble, his feral eyes only inches away. Dandy blinked, frozen with indecision, before taking a step backwards. In response, Twisted Pebble took a step forward.

He knew the Twisted was nothing but a clone. He knew that any semblance of affection was nothing more than a poor imitation of Pebble’s behavior. Still, despite those thoughts, he reached out a hand and scratched the back of the rock’s ears with the sides of his multicolored claws. Twisted Pebble immediately closed his eyes and rubbed his gray head against the claws with a loving bark.

How cruel, he thought, that despite their entirely different appearance, they still barked the same way. It was enough to strengthen the speed at which tears passively leaked from his eyes.

Twisted Pebble noticed the brief pause in petting and tilted his head, completely unaware of the battle that raged in Dandy’s mind. Only the mindless look in those red pupils snapped the flower out of his thoughts. He tightened his hold on the bag of tapes and focused on the task at hand, ignoring the blank stares of the other Mains on the floor.

Dandy spilled the tapes he found onto the countertop and sighed in relief. “I think I saw, like, three different Twisted Pebbles.” He looked up and frowned. “Are you okay?”

Shelly rolled her clearly tired eyes. “I’m great! Just finished dealing with a few… nuisances! But I don’t think you can be talking; twisting takes a lot out of you, huh?”

“I…” Dandy looked away. He was vaguely aware of how fatigued and despondent he looked, but he dared not admit it. “It’s better than staying like that.”

Shelly gave his comment a mean-spirited laugh and began looking through the dark gray tapes. She mouthed different numbers as she counted through them, and her expression quickly shifted to one of disappointment and irritation. “Why are there so few?” she growled.

“I looked everywhere, but there just weren’t as many this time!” Dandy refuted. His voice raised in panic. “I can’t control when the Twisteds pick stuff up!”

“So, you come to me with this,” she raised the empty plastic bag with notable bite marks up like evidence to a crime, “and expect me to accept it? Dandy, I gave you one simple job!”

Dandy tried to summon the bravery needed to argue, but he was too drained to do anything. He simply lowered his head and remained silent.

Shelly sighed and shoved the tapes into the box behind her. “I can’t just let you off the hook, you know. Gotta have some sort of punishment.”

“...Okay,” he muttered. After a few seconds of silence, he looked up again. “Why are you smiling?”

Despite her previous disappointment, Shelly’s expression had gone back to her default. She laughed to herself, but the sound was devoid of joy. “Golly, you’re so acquiescent! Do you know what that means? It means that you always follow orders without arguing against them. A pretty bad trait for the individual, but very good for our agreement!” She suddenly gasped. “I’ve been so stressed out all day that, maybe, this little punishment will work in my favor!”

Dozens of possible punishments swam through his mind, but they all quieted once he saw a glint of metal from the pockets on her belt. Slowly, she reached inside and pulled out a chisel that was sharpened to appear more like a chef’s knife than a paleontologist’s tool. “Come on, you know the drill! Oh, no pun intended.”

Without hesitation, Dandy bolted towards the button panel that was much too tall for him to reach. Before he could wonder what happened to the ladder used by the Toons, he felt a sharp pain in his upper back. He doubled over and clutched his heaving chest.

“Painful, isn’t it? I’d assume you’d be used to it by now!” Shelly laughed. He heard her pick up her chisel and ready it. “I really needed this today!”

Dandy tried to reply, but all that came out was a hacking cough. Drops of ichor splattered onto his hand, and his mind went into overdrive to try and escape. Every thought soon became useless, as another stab caused him to utterly collapse from the pain.

Shelly grabbed his red petal and forced him to look at her half-closed eyes and tight-lipped smile. Her voice was uncharacteristically low as she fumed, “Those tapes belong to me,” and pointed the blade towards his eyes.

Everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Dazzle stirred the water in his cup and stared intensely at the mini whirlpool that formed inside. Next to him, Razzle set the play script down and nudged it towards the group. “I’m not sure if this will work.”

“Come on, Razzle! I believe in him!” Vee smiled. Her side of the table was noticeably devoid of any snacks or drinks.

Glisten, who sat on the opposite side, stiffened and looked down. He looked too queasy to take a bite out of the sandwich in his hands. “Thanks for the encouragement, but I don’t think I can do it. My legs get shaky just thinking about it!”

“But you’re the only one who memorized everything!” Sprout cried, suddenly dramatic. His exclamation made the paintbrush next to him flinch in surprise.

“I’m just a crewmate; I’m not fit for being casted. Why not Finn? I mean, he's great at being on stage!” Glisten suggested.

Finn shook his head. The concept of being the main character of the play was enticing, but he refused to take it from the hands of Poppy. He wondered if the bubble was too fatigued to join the meeting. “Like I would take the time to memorize everything. I got a smaller role because I don’t like scripted performances.”

“Then what about Sprout?”

Sprout shook his head and took a sip of a glass of water. “I dunno if I can memorize all of that either.”

“...Dandy, then?”

The group exchanged glances, their eyes eventually landing on the empty seat next to Vee. “Hey, where is Dandy? I haven’t seen him all morning,” she fretted.

“Maybe he slept in. I guess he isn’t conducting himself properly!” Brightney joked with a chuckle. Her job was set design and lighting, since she could not stop herself from sneaking puns into her lines, to the dismay of most other Toons.

The light-hearted mood of the room clearly did not offer Glisten much comfort. He fidgeted with his bracelets as he muttered, “Am I really the only Toon who can do it?”

“It’s not like you’re doing it alone,” Brusha chirped from his left. “Besides, it’s a small play that basically takes place in only one room. Definitely makes my job easier.”

Vee nodded. “This is a great time to practice getting better on stage!”

“Okay… I-I guess it can’t hurt to try…” Glisten shyly smiled. His statement was met with polite clapping from everyone but Finn. All the fishbowl did was roll his eyes and look away.

Finn walked into his room with an unfamiliar weight on his chest. It felt like fatigue, even though he hadn’t done anything strenuous that morning. He collapsed into the nearest chair and rested his head on his arms, looking up at the vibrant fish tank on his desk. Its bright lights reflected brilliantly in his black irises.

Before he could fall asleep, he felt a tap on the rim of his glass head. With a slight smile, he leaned closer to the tank and watched as a purple toy fish jumped out of his head and into the decorated tank. The fish then swam to the bottom to come face-to-face with Finn.

“Hi, Barnaby. Glad someone's happy today,” Finn said. Barnaby only blinked his eyes and spun around the tank.

Despite the lack of response, Finn sighed and began to ramble out loud. “This is all so stupid. It’s Poppy’s play; she basically directed the whole thing. If she’s not here, the play should just be postponed. We shouldn’t be giving Glisten the main role out of everyone.”

Barnaby gave him a look that almost seemed judging.

“And, get this, she gave the big roles to the Mains! What do you mean you gave Dandy the role of main antagonist; he’s done enough lead roles!” Finn leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms on his chest. “Vee can barely act. You know what? I should’ve gotten that role. Come on, aren’t you listening?”

Barnaby slowed his swimming and bumped his forehead on the glass clumsily. He then proceeded to do a few flips under the water with a hopeful look in his wide eyes. Once he was finished, he swam up to the surface and peered down.

“Thanks, Barn,” Finn muttered, his mood having been lifted by Barnaby's efforts to entertain him. “It’s just a play. We’ll all get over it.”

A knock on his doorframe made him jump in surprise and almost spill the water inside his head. He gently picked up Barnaby, put him in his fishbowl head, and walked over to the room’s entrance. 

His visitor waved at his annoyed expression. “Uh, what happened during the play meeting?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Where were you, Dandy?”

As if it was an answer in itself, the flower smiled sheepishly. “I overslept!”

“Well, Glisten is taking over Poppy’s role, and the play will go on,” he informed. For a second, he wanted to retreat back to his room and wait until lunchtime before socializing any further. The rest of him decided to ask, “Are you sure you overslept?”

The question wiped the smile off of Dandy’s face. He gave him a very confused look. “Uh, yeah! Why?”

“You look insanely tired. Looking a bit pale, too.”

Dandy’s expression didn’t falter. “Well, I–”

“Dandy!” 

The two boys looked over at the hallway's entrance to spot an excited—and considerably slow—Vee making her way towards them. “Brusha said you missed her art lesson!” The happy expression on her face immediately switched to a more disconcerted one once she spotted Finn. Clearly, memories of his distaste for her were swimming through her brain.

The feeling was entirely mutual for Finn.

Chapter Text

“I don’t think you’re being very fair,” Squirm insisted.

“Hm, well, life isn’t fair,” Dyle countered.

Squirm hadn’t expected to spend his afternoon helping Dyle move supplies, but he felt unusually bored that day, and had a somewhat good relationship with the pocket watch. He set down a heavy box and shrugged. “I suppose.”

Dyle followed suit, making sure the contents of the boxes were hidden from Squirm’s not-so-prying eyes. “All I’m saying is that pretending to celebrate holidays is weird. How is it a ‘Halloween’ party if there are no houses to trick-or-treat from?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of interpretive fun here and there. It only comes once a year, after all.” Squirm paused in thought for a moment. “You know, I thought you enjoyed the Halloween dinners.”

“What? No, they’re horrible,” Dyle huffed, crossing his arms on his chest.

“But you still finish your plate every time?”

“Oh, I can’t stand your rhetorical questions.”

“I can’t ‘stand’ them either, apparently.”

Dyle gave him an annoyed look and turned towards the door behind them. “Haha, very funny. Are you coming, or do you like this dusty storage room better than the lobby?”

Squirm felt a flicker of irritation in his heart, but he mentally blew it out and stepped out of the room to find himself on the opposite side of the train tracks in front of the lobby’s entrance. “Are you sure a train won’t come by and hit us while we’re crossing?” he asked.

“Do you even know how trains work? They don’t travel randomly,” Dyle shot back. He casually jumped onto the tracks and walked across the gap.

“I’m not talking about other trains from the outside. I’m talking about these trains. I could have sworn they used travel by themselves,” Squirm muttered. Despite his instincts telling him not to, he stepped down from the platform and onto the tracks with Dyle, who rolled his eyes at the statement and continued to walk.

Before they could enter Dyle’s claimed lobby space—Squirm was hesitant to call it a room, given it rarely had any occupants inside—they heard a “Hey! You two!” coming from the opposite side. There, Yatta and Shelly were standing around the counter.

“Oh, Dyle! I have a present for you!” Yatta greeted. She raised her hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle as she took out a light yellow cylindrical container.

Dyle gave the cylinder a look of suspicion as he walked over, completely unconvinced. Instead of addressing the present, he stared at Shelly and put as much venom into his voice as he asked, “What do you want?”

“Don’t be such a stranger!” Shelly tutted. “I just wanted to ask for my letters back, that’s all! You can do that for me, can’t you?”

For a reason Squirm did not know, Dyle shook his head and procured a faded yellow envelope from the inside of his robe. “I simply have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Shelly’s eyes watched the letter like a hawk watching prey. She kept her wide smile, but her left eye twitched for half a second. “Dyle, give me that letter, please!”

As an act of pure hatred—one Squirm also did not understand, even if he had known the reasoning behind their rivalry—Dyle carefully opened the envelope and slammed the letter onto the countertop. He scowled as he said, “It’s not even worth throwing away.”

The letter was only on the table for a moment before Shelly snatched it. However, Squirm had always been confident in his ability to read large paragraphs quickly. Therefore, as the two stared daggers at each other, he happily read the entire thing, though he never caught the name of who it was addressed to.

I have to admit something… I’ve been treating this like a diary. You can’t exactly blame me, though; I’m far from the only Toon with a diary in this place!

For a moment, I thought Tisha and I were in a tough spot, but apparently she thinks of me the same as before. Honestly, ever since the malfunction incident, all of my relationships have been a bit weird. Like, you remember when Goob would ask to hug anyone he saw looking sad? He doesn’t do that anymore. I haven’t seen him hug anyone when I'm with him… But maybe he just doesn’t want to hug me, haha!

Not funny, I know.

I don’t really care about being hugged or not. Honestly, the main thing I’m worried about are my other relationships. I like to call everyone around me a friend—outwardly, if you know what I mean—but Tisha is the only Toon who goes out of her way to spend unconditional time with me. Maybe she wants something. Maybe she thinks I need her pity. I really don’t.

I hope you’re doing well. I like to think you still care about me; the thought makes me feel bittersweet! Maybe that’s a bit pessimistic, but, hey, you know me. Shelly’s always the optimist, unless it’s about anything deeper than fondant! That’s what Cosmo tells me, at least. He’s been trying to have one-on-ones with me, even though he has his own problems, and apparently hates me, too? Like, he gave Teagan the idea to ban me from her parties, didn’t he?! Though, being friends with Sprout must be a hassle, given Cosmo always looks so sad whenever he’s referred to as “Sprout’s friend.” Or maybe sad isn’t the right word. Maybe I’m being too observant this time. Whatever, I’m rambling right now. I don’t care about him if he doesn't care about me.

 

Confusedly,

Shelly Fossilian

“This is some tension, right, bookboy?” Yatta joked.

“We are not buddies,” Squirm countered, tearing his eyes away from the letter once Shelly stuffed it into one of her numerous belt pouches. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Hey,” she pushed the cylinder into his hands, “could you open this for me?”

Squirm wanted to say no, but he reasoned that, despite her constant glancing at Dyle, it could have been a simple request. Deciding to be optimistic, he wrapped his hands around the lid and opened it. The moment he did, four streaks of color shot out of the can and landed on the top of Dyle’s head, causing Squirm to take a step back in surprise.

It took him a second to realize that the streaks were snakes. It took him another second after that to realize the snakes were made of plush.

The last realization must not have come to Dyle, because he glanced at the scale pattern and immediately froze, his eyes widening. Once his body caught up with his racing brain, he let out a high-pitched shriek and harshly shook his head to get the plush off. Given he couldn’t touch it with his hands—one of the disadvantages of having cartoonish Toon proportions—and it somehow got itself lodged in the hole between his chain links, he opted to yell, “Get these things off of me!”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book!” Yatta giggled, doubling over in laughter. Shelly chuckled along mean-spiritedly, clearly not afraid to display her distaste for Dyle back.

Squirm, realizing that he was the only one with empathy for the uncharacteristically frightened Dyle, looped his arm around Dyle's and dragged him to a safer area.

Chapter Text

Long ago, they were a simple family of three. The mother wore a soft purple bandana and had beige skin. The father had a long green tail, large clawed hands, and orange skin. Their son looked like a mix of the two, but his tail was littered with small thorns instead. They were happy.

At least, the son thought they were happy.

He wasn’t sure.

A long time had passed since Gourdy’s last dream about his parents. He had thought that he had finally healed, but around 11:00 in the evening on the 17th of October, he saw their faces in his thoughts again.

The realization that he had not yet grown from his past weighed down on him as he woke up the next day, drowsy and melancholic, to the sight of his beloved plushies sleeping next to him. He had one for each of the nonseasonal Main Characters he liked: Dandy, Sprout, Vee, Pebble, and Shelly. He disliked the space-themed one.

On the other side of his bed was a small table with a drawer, which he promptly pulled open, revealing a small heart-shaped locket inside. He leaned over to reach for the locket, but decided against it and closed the drawer instead. 

Although there were no clocks in his bedroom, Gourdy had a feeling it was around two in the morning. He saw good sleep as a priority, but he knew that he would not be able to slumber so easily after such a vivid dream. A few ideas bounced around in his head as he stood up and made his way over to his door, heading towards the elevator. He wanted to preoccupy himself to distract his thoughts, even if only temporarily.

The Gardenview Educational Center and Museum was rarely ever seen so quiet. When the place was still open to the public, most floors had at least one staff member or visitor occupying the space; finding peace often proved difficult. Once the doors closed, the hallways were still usually found filled with chatter and mischief in the daytime, though it came from Toons instead.

Gourdy wanted to wander the halls of a random floor of his choosing, but before he could, he heard some of that chatter near the elevator.

“Thou art worried, right?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I’d like to think I know my sister better than anyone else. Thou can talk to me.”

“I…” Connie’s voice faltered. She nervously tapped her fingers against the wooden bench she was sitting on, face pensive, when she spotted Gourdy off in the distance. “Oh! You’re awake?”

Gourdy approached the two with as much of a serious expression as he could muster. “What are you two doing at this hour?”

“I’m guessing we all had a rough night of sleep,” Soulvester remarked, dodging the question not entirely directed at him. He seemed like he had woken up only moments prior, as a comically colorful sleeping cap sat on top of his armor-covered head.

Connie puffed up her chest defiantly. “I had a great night of sleep! I’m just up to get a… a glass of water.”

The other two exchanged glances of disbelief, but only Gourdy had the courage to ask, “Why aren’t you near one of the kitchens, then, Boo… Connie?” The name slipped out of his mouth simply by habit; the correction was the part that took effort.

Just like every other time Gourdy had called the ghost Boolynski in the past after her name change, she ignored his comment. “Soulvester was the one to stop me before I could,” she insisted.

“I think we should all just continue this tomorrow,” Soulvester replied, fatigue dripping from his slightly muffled voice. “We can have our talk when we’re feeling better. I, for one, like my nine hours to stay where they are.”

“What? What talk?” To Gourdy’s dismay, the siblings did not answer him. Instead, Connie nodded vigorously and floated off towards the open elevator without a goodbye.

Soulvester saw Gourdy’s disappointed look and crouched down to meet his eyes. “Thou should go back to bed,” he suggested.

“Not until you do!” Gourdy stood his ground. He considered one of his best traits to be his selflessness, and he refused to go back to his room until he made sure that the adults around him were going, too. The thought made him feel less lonely in the darker hours.

Knowing him better than most, Soulvester gave in quickly. “Alright. I’ll just make sure Eclipse is asleep too. I hope we didn’t wake her up, or anything. Dost thou want to come with me?”

“I suppose I can…” He could not hide his excitement to delay sleeping very well, but it seemed like it did not matter as Soulvester began to head towards Eclipse’s room. They didn’t say a word to each other the entire time—most probably to not wake the werewolf up if she wasn’t awake already. The three of them hadn’t, in his opinion, been making a ruckus, so he was expecting her to be sound asleep.

With a barely audible knock, Soulvester carefully opened the door, peered inside, and immediately shut it again, his eyes suddenly wider. In response, Gourdy stepped away from the door, confused about the sudden change in demeanor.

Before he could verbally articulate his bewilderment, Soulvester turned to him and whispered, “She’s fine. Go back to thy room and sleep.”

“Is something wrong? You gotta tell me if something’s wrong!” Gourdy pushed.

“Nothing is wrong, just… I’ll tell thee in the morning. Go to sleep, please.” A tone of worry weighed on his voice, one that Gourdy had never heard from the usually unbothered knight.

Gourdy wanted to protest against being treated like a child—given how much he cared for all of his friends, including Eclipse—but one look at the unbecoming shakiness of Soulvester’s hands silenced his thoughts. Eventually, he stammered, “W-What woke you up? Did you know something was happening?”

The question surprised Soulvester. “It was a nightmare,” he answered honestly, “about my sister. I did mean it when I said it would do us all a lot of good if we kept the serious talks for later.”

“...Will you really talk to me later?”

“I promise.”

Gourdy sighed and looked down at the ground beneath him. “Good night, Soul.”

“Good night, Gourdy.”

Chapter Text

HI GUYS so bad news... i gotta put dnt in a slight hiatus...

summer is like my worst season to write because school gives me a concrete schedule and without that a lot of times my motivation is too low to do anything taxing (i have motivation issues as you can tell siiiiighhhh)

i'm once again 100% not abandoning this unless ao3 like explodes or something bad like that ok... if you wanna hear about updates first join the serverrrrrrrr!!!

here is some cool art i made that i never posted woah