Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dreamers’ Home Mansion In Saturland was an antique kids’ show, from around the 1950’s. It had been forgotten by most as time passed, but some still dug it up from obscure corners of media and admired it, even if it had premiered, aired and eventually ended before they were even alive, or old enough to remember it. Episodes, behind-the-scenes pictures, merchandise, interviews with the cast; a small, yet growing community found it all and quickly recollected what was once a beloved show by children and adults alike, now buried away by time, but slowly being uncovered. 

And then, more than 50 years after its’ original release, it was announced that the old show, now an internet favourite, was making a live-action comeback; something that caught mixed feelings from the public. Some were disappointed to hear the original concept of puppetry was discarded, claiming it’d affect the original oddly captivating atmosphere and charm of the show; while others claimed that it was a welcome and understandable change, considering the slightly unnerving designs of the original puppets, and that the community was only glad to hear that the show was getting the deserved recognition.

Soon, outfit concepts, scenarios and short behind-the-scenes videos made by the cast were sent out to the public, to the hysteria of the ever-growing community that now eagerly anticipated the show, that was coming out as a short series in most streaming platforms, with plans for an extension in the project if it gained a decent amount of popularity.

The first and second episodes aired, and they not only were entertaining for children because of the bright colours and catchy songs, but adults could also enjoy the impressive choreographies, the genuinely beautiful designs, wonderful settings, and the smart humour of the show, that seemed heavily based off musicals and other live performances.
Then, a two-parter spin-off series suddenly dropped, with no announcements, no teasers, nothing that came with the release of the original series. And when people checked it out, the first thing they noticed was the shockingly mature rating of the episodes, nothing like the original series, and the titles being simply “HELP” and “HELP #2”.

The content in these two episodes was drastically - and terrifyingly - different from the kids’ show; a dimly lit room, with darker, faded tones and a much different atmosphere than the dreamy, light-hearted world the original episodes were set in. The main trio was being held hostage, forced to read a letter asking for money donations so they can be let go. Those who watched the episodes more closely were quick to point out that there was, for a split second, a frame of the actress who played Sketchbook - the first “teacher” character to make a comeback in the live-action show, and supposedly the teacher of the earliest recovered episode of the original series - laid down on the floor, her dress torn in less than discreet ways and stained with such a rich shade of scarlet that her exposed chest seemed more like an endless void of red. Whether she was alive, but unconscious or dead was up to debate - a rather terrifying debate.

But if there was one thing to question, it was why. Why did they do this? Why put out a maturely themed, disturbing spin-off of a child-friendly series? Many people thought there would be a horror series dedicated to the older fans, which was met with enthusiasm from some, and confusion from others.

But some people, only a few isolated, extravagant sceptics who proudly wore their tin foil hats, suggested the ridiculously outlandish, yet terrifying idea that it could be real footage of the actors’ current situation. But that is not possible, that’s ridiculous! It would be too twisted and sickening to fit within reality!..
Was it, though? Impressively, each day that went by started to prove that theory further.

As the days passed, more and more people began to notice that the entire cast’s social media was now inactive. No pictures, no videos, nothing at all; they had suddenly gone eerily silent. Many chalked that up to viral marketing, made specifically to further scare the public into consuming everything and anything that was released   to “solve the mystery”; however, the situation was becoming more and more suspicious as the days passed, and people who usually saw the cast daily - including the show’s staff - reported that they all had suddenly vanished, along with the costumes and respective props, including pictures of the now unused dressing rooms, with the labelled clothes-hangers empty. Even their families and close friends came forward to say that they had no knowledge of the making of a spin-off series or to what was the current situation of the cast, since their attempts at contacting them had been in vain: either nobody answered until they gave in and hung up, or sometimes, only sometimes...

They’d hear heavy breathing on the other side of the line, an uncomfortable, heavy pause, and then... Whoever it was would hang up.

Chapter Text

"Alright everyone, and cut." The director shouted out, as the music faded to an end and the cameras stopped filming. One of the backstage staff hurried over to help Paige climb off the platform she stood on; it’d be too risky to try and jump off by herself wearing heels, even if they weren’t particularly tall or hard to balance on. Sprained ankles are terrible for any performer. After she successfully got to the ground - with her two feet perfectly un-twisted, thank you -, she was handed a water bottle, that she gladly took. As she talked to the staff about the performance, laughing about the several mishaps that happened during the previous recordings and the occasional congratulation for pulling off an impressive or difficult move that she previously struggled with, she felt a tiny hand tug at her skirt, and all their eyes looked down to the eight-year-old child that quietly interrupted their chattering.
"Miss Sketchbook?" He called, with a shy voice. Little Manny had yet to realize that Paige and Sketchbook were the same person, only with a different outfit and makeup. Nobody thought to tell him; he’d figure it out one day. She didn’t mind, he was trying his best and she thought it was rather sweet.
"Yes, darling?" She replied, as sweetly as she could - the kid seemed to be easily scared or upset - while she kneeled down to his level.
"Dad said there’s someone he wants you to meet." The child muttered, pointing at one of the doors that lead to the backstage rooms. She follows the direction with her eyes, looking at the director’s room with curious eyes. She had always found it quite odd that the director’s child was one of the main stars of the show - it all seemed like a stage dad pushing a clearly inexperienced child into a spotlight far too bright for him to handle. But hey, he seemed to be having fun...
She once again got up on her feet, dusting off her skirt. "Well, let’s see who I’ll meet today." Her head turned to the small group she was previously talking to. "I might stay a bit after hours, so... I’ll see you guys tomorrow?" She suggested, and the group agreed with nods and small murmurs of goodbye as they all started to organize the equipment and gather their belongings for them to leave.
Paige silently walks towards the door, the only sounds being her shoes tapping against the concrete floor and the gentle rustling of her skirt. Stopping right in front of the door, she took a deep breath before knocking.
"Come in!" a muffled voice called out, one she easily recognized as her boss’s. She shyly opened the door, taking half a step inside before noticing the two men sitting at the office desk and, with a bit of embarrassment growing inside her, she asked. "Should I... Change my clothes?"
"No, it’s fine! He’ll be seeing you like that very often, anyway." The older man said, quite nicely, something that betrayed his usually unnerving appearance. Paige reminded herself to not judge as she took a seat at the desk, after all, age would come to everyone, more kindly to some than to others. The man sitting beside her seemed younger; about her own age. He looked at her with an unreadable expression, and she could only hope it wasn’t because of her eccentric attire and makeup. He seemed nice, or at least polite enough not to judge her.
"Well, Paige, this is Angelo Turchino. He’ll be cast as the next teacher for our upcoming episode, but the creative team and I have some plans for the two of you. So I thought it’d be nice for you two to meet before we started choreographies and song writing. I find it very important for the two of you to be comfortable and familiar with each other before all that. Alright?" Her boss explained. "I already gave Angelo your number, so you two can have a chat outside of the studio. You two should get going now, it’s dangerous to go home too late."
The two made their way through the studio, engaging in awkward small talk that could be reduced to Paige making a quick comment about where they were at the moment, and Angelo replying just as quickly. While Paige entered her dressing room - with Angelo almost following her in before he realized - and changed her clothes, Angelo sat with his back against the wall scrolling through social media on his phone.
"Angelo? I’m ready, let’s go."
He looked upwards to the pale, blonde woman standing beside him, and it took him a couple seconds to realize that the costumed woman he had followed here and this woman wearing a pair of jeans and a yellow hoodie were, in fact, the same person. He then nodded, getting up on his feet and following her through the corridors as they continued walking.
"You know," Paige started, hoping to spark a conversation. A concrete one, that is. "Your name sounds familiar... We haven’t met before, right?"
"I don’t think so." He replied, now curious to know what could’ve given her the sense of familiarity towards someone who had just met her. "Maybe you watched some series I was in. I’ve done two separate ones, Archangel and City of Porcelain. Ever heard of those?"
Paige gasped, an incredulous smile on her lips. "City of Porcelain! Exactly!" She clasped her hands together. "I never watched it, but one of my best friends does, and she likes your character a lot, that’s where I heard your name!"
"I have fans? How nice, I’m feeling rich and famous already." He commented with a laugh. She chuckled, playfully nudging him. By that time, the two had already reached the front doors, where they said goodbye and parted ways.
Later that night, Paige received a text message from Angelo asking her to add his number, along with a purposefully badly taken picture of him pecking his lips and holding up two fingers. She didn’t hesitate to send back a picture of similar nature.

~

"Aww, look at you!" Paige exclaimed as Angelo was finally let go by the makeup artists, now in his full show outfit. "You look adorable!"
"There’s so much glitter..." He replied looking at himself in the full body mirror. "You think I look good in blue? I’ve always liked red more, but I might change my mind."
"That blue contour is doing wonders for you, that I know." She retorted with a smile."But if you like red better, you still got the glasses. They’re red."
"Yeah, they’re made to look like clock hands. Oh, and they match my boots, too."'
A distant shout interrupted the two. The team was called to the recording set, that was nearly entirely built already, only with a few props yet to be added. Angelo didn’t exactly run, he simply speed-walked to the main room of the studio, with Paige following him right after.
She was only there to appear in the background for a few moments, happily watching as her friend performed his number flawlessly. That is, until...
"Cut, cut." The director sighed from his chair. "Angelo, a moment please?"
Angelo nodded, turning his head to the man sitting far behind the cameras, sporting the same curious, confused look as the rest of the set. Everything seemed to be going perfectly...
"Listen," the older man started, in a weirdly sweet, condescending tone. "I understand your previous works were more... Maturely rated, but this is aimed at children. So, could we... Tone it down a little?"
The awkward tension that paired in the studio was so thick it was pouring over each present person like a waterfall. Most of it was shared through confused glances; Paige herself had a full eye contact based conversation with Harry and Robin - the two who were just over legal age, but grown enough to understand the meaning of those words - all three equally confused as to what Roy, the director, could’ve possibly considered suggestive about Angelo’s performance. Everyone, in front of and behind the cameras, seemed to have a common agreement that Angelo was doing just fine. Everyone except Roy, apparently.
"...Sure." Angelo replied, and although he had joined the team rather lately and wasn’t that well-known by everyone, his voice carried a distinguishably pained tone.
After that, the rest of the recording seemed to roll smoothly, although he didn’t seem as genuine as before. His voice seemed a little too cheery, and his smile a little too forced.
Nothing that ruined the episode, apparently.

~

"... Are you okay, dude?" Harry asked, setting a hand on Angelo’s shoulder as the four of them - Harry, Angelo, Paige and Robin - headed to the dressing rooms.
"Kind of. I really don’t wanna talk about it right now." He replied, looking exhausted, yet not physically.
The rest of the walk was eerily quiet, as everyone silently agreed that it was better not to push the subject, and as Angelo worryingly stared off into nothing at all.
As everyone entered their respective rooms, Paige managed to grab Angelo’s wrist before he closed the door. He only blankly stared at her. "Yes?"
"I just wanted to say you did great today. Was it really your first time singing?" She asked, trying to lift the heavy, burdening topic from his mind.
"Yeah, I think I did alright. I’m still a bit nervous about the release, though."
"I’m sure they’ll love it, don’t worry." She replied, pulling him into a hug. He had to bend over a little so she’d reach him, but it was fine. Neither of them minded it. "I’ll see you next week, then."
"Sure thing." He replied, letting her go and watching as she slid into her own dressing room.
All four of them were very surprised to find a steamy mug of hot chocolate waiting for them, carefully placed on their makeup counters. In the chilly environment of the studio, a warm drink was more than welcome. Even if it was in the middle of June and the weather was perfect, that studio always seemed too cold compared to the outside.
Only a few moments later, all of them could be found unconscious, lying in their rooms’ floor, no more than a sip taken from the now cooling beverage that innocently sat in its’ place. None of them made their way home. Instead, they were all dragged into a strange, otherworldly place they’d yet to learn to call home, but wasn’t quite it.
After all, a home is a safe place. Wherever they were now, although they’d yet to find out about it, wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Where was she?
There was darkness, and a faint, almost unnoticeable buzzing noise. Static, perhaps? She wasn’t sure. There seemed to be no direct source of noise, the electronic sizzle seemed to reverberate off every wall that might or might not be there. She couldn’t see a thing. She couldn’t tell whether her eyes were open or closed, and it didn’t seem to make a difference. It all sounded so distant, echoey... Yet it was getting loud, loud until it was overwhelming to the point where it sounded ten times louder than it should be. It hurt her ears, she felt like her eardrums could explode at any moment.
Paige saw a blinding light grow bigger and stronger within the darkness, and in seconds, all she could see was white.
She blinked her eyes open, greeted by a dark room and the uncomfortable, lukewarm smell of dust and age. She found herself sitting on a chair, in an unknown room with a white board in front of her. As she tried to get up and explore, she felt her limbs being restrained from moving further. Looking down at her arms and legs, she found herself bound to the chair by metal cuffs. She started to panic, frantically looking around. "Hello? Is anybody there?" She timidly called out.
"You finally woke up!" A voice replied, from a spot she couldn’t see. Nonetheless, she still uselessly tried to twist her neck around at the source of the noise. "Great. Now, I’ll just ask you a few questions, alright?"
She wanted to scream, demand answers and beg to be let go, but it was wiser to comply. Roy took her silence as permission to continue.
"First question, easy enough: what’s your name?" As he said that, a projector brightened the board in front of her with the video of a looping, never ending spiral.
"Paige." She answered, certain of the correctness of it, yet curious as to why the question was made at all.
"Wrong." He stated, the screen in front of her flashing green. Before she could question his reaction, a sudden, intense jolt of pain quickly coursed her body, having her limbs involuntarily spasm against the restraints as her blood-curdling screams filled the room with the truest, raw description of the agony that seemed to tear her apart with sharp, jagged claws. Her limbs, helplessly flailing under the restraints, felt just a second of pain away from being cruelly amputated by agony and despair only. After seemingly everlasting seconds of blinding pain and convulsing against the uncomfortable restraints, she was allowed to rest, although the tears cascading from her eyes and erratic breathing showed no signs of peace and calmness. 
"Try again. You didn’t forget it, did you?" He calmly suggested, a venomous smile heard in every word. The screen in front of her went back into a spiral, and she tried, without much success, to find some sort of comfort within the endless black and white swirl. Instead, she felt herself get even more lost, helpless, cornered and betrayed.
She took a deep, shaky breath in, feeling her heart unevenly beat within her ribcage, and hopelessly guessed:
"... Sketchbook?"
She flinched at the sound of laughter and clapping, but thankfully, no punishment ever came. 
"That’s it, see? You only needed a little push." He casually commented, so naturally as if they were talking about the weather. "Please don’t be upset with me, I’m only trying to show you who you really are." He messed with her hair as some sort of reward for giving him the answer he wanted to hear, but it made her stomach twist.
"There, there. As soon as the true you comes out, we’ll be done with this." He briefly explained, giving her a quick pat on the shoulder, then distancing himself away to his previous spot. "Alright, Sketch. What’s your favourite food?"
She thought back to her episode. The fun music, the rehearsals, the brightly coloured assets... All such happy memories, but losing herself in the past could come at a price. Scavenging through her mind, she remembered a specially nice part of the episode where the four of them got to put icing on a cake. The cake was a fake one, of course, but the activity of decorating a cake as creatively as possible, with no culinary experience from either of them, was immensely fun.
"Cake?" She guessed, although slightly more confidently this time.
"Fast learner, aren’t you? Seems like your students won’t be without a teacher for too long."
For some reason, that statement sent chills down her spine.

~

She didn’t know how long she had stayed in that room, or what happened to her before that. She couldn’t remember. What she did know, though, is that it wasn’t a bad place to stay. 
The memories of earlier days felt vague, as if there was a very important detail missing. Those were bad days; she’d be strapped to a chair and get asked questions all day. She was told it was for her own good, but she found it rather boring. At times, she’d hear questions about this “Paige” girl, if she knew her, if she remembered her from somewhere... And although the name seemed familiar, she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out who she was. Once she asked her owner who that girl was, but he didn’t really say much. Maybe he made her up.
Now she has a nice bedroom, lots of drawing and painting supplies, and she’s even allowed to walk around, although most of the doors she tried to open were locked.
Her owner says she’s a very good girl, and she’d receive a big reward for that. She’s been waiting for days, wondering what that reward could be. It must be something really special, since it’s taking him weeks to finish.
Today, he lead her through one of the locked doors. It was very bright, and there was a strange table planted at the centre of the room, surrounded by strange machines with wires and tubes. There was a small desk beside it, full of tiny sharp blades, and scissors, and needles.
She had just noticed her owner’s sudden disappearance when a tiny prick ached on the back of her neck.
She felt sleepy, all of a sudden.
She woke up feeling a bit hazy. After blinking her eyes open, she noticed that she was lying down on that strange table. The machines and wires surrounded her, making all sorts of beeping noises, and she found out it was very tiring to move. She lazily turned her head to the side, looking for her owner, but he didn’t seem to be there. Hopefully she wasn’t sick; that’d be awful. 
But some things felt different, for sure. Maybe it was her gut telling her she’d meet her friends very, very soon.
She couldn’t wait.

Chapter Text

He woke up drowsily, yet immediately framing his surroundings as unfamiliar. His attempt at standing on his feet were cut short by heavy metal restraints, and his heart begun to race. His hands, he discovered, were also restrained to the armrests of the chair he was bound to.
“Who’s there? What do you want? Show yourself!” He exclaimed, seemingly bravely, but his heartbeat proved quite the contrary. A low chuckle came from somewhere behind him, and although the sound was faint, he recognized the voice right away. It made every drop of blood within him boil in his veins.
“Come on now, no need for all that...” The voice continued, and Angelo pushed away the urge to bite at the hand that laid on his shoulder. “We’re just gonna... Make some improvements on you, to enhance your performance. Isn’t showbiz just crazy?” He chuckled, and all the hatred in Angelo’s every heartbeat slowly converted into fear.
“What do you mean by that?” He muttered. “I swear, if you dare lay a finger on them-”
“Oh, you’re worried about your friends? How cute. I’ll guess a certain someone caught your eye?” His captor nudged his shoulder, as if it all was just some light-hearted joke.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Oh please, it was so painfully obvious. That notepad girl, you ate her with your eyes every time you met.”
“Paige? No, I don’t-”
“No need to lie, boy, I’ve been your age before.” He jokingly stated, laughing comfortably before it turned to a low chuckle right next to Angelo’s ear. “Only difference is that I wasn’t a man whore.”
The whirl of blind, red hot fury that bubbled up in his chest was nearly uncontainable; his narrowed eyes already filled with such intense energy his mere glance seemed to be fatal.
“Shut up!”
“What, are you going to tell me I’m mistaken? You and I both know that you’re only famous and loved because you’ve got a set of abs any girl would wanna lay her hands on.”
Angelo’s breath became shaky, his ribcage twitching up and down with every breath in and out.
“Because, in every work you’re in, it just so happens to have a scene where you get to take your clothes off in front of the cameras, and everyone goes crazy. That’s what they all expect of you, you know.”
His hands became shaky, nails digging into the hard wooden armrests as the restraints bruised his wrists.
“As long as you’re undressed and giving them that dirty look you do, they love you.” He paced around the room during his monologue, savouring every drop of Angelo’s frustration and anger.
“At the end, you’re just some dignified porn star with no talent other than looking horny on command.”
Stubbornly, a tear ran down Angelo’s face. He always hated how sensitive he could be at times.
“Aw, come on, there’s no need to be upset!” Roy cooed, faking empathy. “After all, we’re here to fix just that. Don’t you wanna be free of that burden? Don’t you want people to see you as something other than just a pretty body they can drool over? I can fix that, as long as you cooperate.”
For a split second, it almost seemed like a reasonable choice to make. Even if it sounded like signing the Devil’s contract; all the stares, and the comments, and the jokes, gone if only he said yes. Virtually impossible, but tempting nonetheless.
But, then again... He was in his show. His children’s show. A perfect, harmless world of felt and thread where these concepts of lust and sexuality simply didn’t exist. That could be his safe haven, his refuge to a place of innocence and bright colours nobody could see any malice in; a place where he could just... Sit there and look pretty in his glittery makeup and classy bow-tie without being automatically considered sensual, unlike the majority of his career.
And maybe, just maybe... They'd talk to him again. Love him again, even.
He could almost feel all the shame and guilt being lifted from his shoulders as he silently nodded.
“That’s what I thought. After all, that sure must take a toll on you, huh?”
“... It does.” He muttered. “Can I ask you something?”
“As long as I can answer.”
“What happened to the others?”
Roy chuckled, and, for some reason, that didn’t seem like a good sign to Angelo. “They’re all just waiting for you. Let’s get started, then, no time to waste!”

~

He woke up, and it was half past seven. He knew that because he always woke up half past seven, no alarm needed. His ticking subtly echoed through the room; a sound he had gotten used to rather easily, although the first few days after his repair were... Unnerving, to say the least. It took him a good few days to get used to the continuous tick-tocking melody resonating within his chest. That, and the blood that seeped out of the stitches every other day, it had been quite stressing. He’d scream into a pillow, and his owner would laugh and joke that his screaming would burst someone’s eardrums one day while he stitched him back up.
Yet, time heals all wounds, and soon, there were nothing but faint scars across his abdomen and back. Isn’t time a marvellous thing?, he thought to himself, as he adjusted his outfit. Today, he was giving a little more attention to detail; his owner had told him he’d meet someone today. Whoever it could be, they seemed to hold some sort of importance, seen as his owner trusted them to show him around and help him adjust to the new place he’d move to this very day.
He, personally, didn’t think he’d need any help; he took pride in being independent and not relying on anyone, not even his owner. But ultimately, his owner did have the final word, and so, he agreed to accept their help.
He just didn’t expect this oh so important guide into his new household to be a scrawny little thing with awful rainbow hair and a nearly inexistent concept of personal space.
A scrawny little thing who seemed... Distantly familiar.
As he was very rudely dragged by the hand through endless corridors and staircases, soon his... Guide... Chose to try for a conversation.
“Hey, um, weird question, but... Have we met before? I feel like I’ve already met you.”
“No, we didn’t.” He answered coldly, and although her comment did spark some curiosity in him, seen as he had the same feeling, he hoped the blunt answer would make her go quiet.
To his inner despair, it didn’t.
“Huh, strange... Well, you must be right. Surely I’d remember you.”
He arched an eyebrow as she spoke the last sentence. This time, he let his curiosity get the best of him.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Oh,” She casually said amidst a shy chuckle. “It’s just that I’ve always liked listening to the ticking of a clock. It helps me sleep better, calms me down. Surely I’d recall meeting someone who makes such a sound!”
Of course, it’d be some childish, unimportant answer he’d easily live without.
The fact that the mechanisms in his chest stuttered for an entire second at her words is absolutely, definitely irrelevant.

Chapter Text

The three main stars fell into a heavy slumber, and woke up in a rather unique place of fabric and plastic that seemingly didn’t end. The entire house, the outside, even the animals were all strangely coloured with that faux texture of felt and shiny, hard material.
At first, although strange, this cartoonish alternate reality seemed to be safe. Food magically appeared in the shelves, the fireplace lit itself up in the morning of cold days, the house was always clean without any of them having to pick up a single broom.
But one day, something different happened. At first, it seemed harmless. She seemed harmless. Coloured hair, cutesy dress, pale skin; she looked like a little porcelain doll brought to life, and anyone would believe she really was one if only she hadn’t been a simple sketchbook a mere second ago.
Music came out of nowhere. There was always some sort of music, but it usually was a quiet, simple melody. That was a song. Her song, more specifically. She did know all the words to it, after all, and no matter how much they’d interject, she wouldn’t give up on her song, telling them how to “be creative”.
That expression would soon be dreaded by the three of them, but at the moment, they didn’t know any better.
After a while, they started giving into the melody. Besides her irrational disliking of the colour green, she wasn’t terrible. She just wanted them to use their creativity, to see shapes in the clouds and listen to the rain, how bad could she even be?
...
There’s... Glitter. Golden glitter, and pink, too. Their hands were sticky with school glue, and colourful strings and ribbons were sprawled across the table. The music sounded different. It wasn’t a nice song to listen to any more. Something smelled strange, like copper. They looked down at their hands, only to find out it wasn’t school glue making them feel sticky. It was red, and warm, and that’s what smelled like copper. There was a heart on the table, nested amidst yarn strings and glitter, seeping out more crimson liquid. It wasn’t that type of heart you see in Valentine’s Day cards, though. It was that fleshy thing full of veins and arteries you have inside of you.
They wondered who put it there. Was it the rainbow haired lady? Where did she get it? Was it hers? No, wait, she wouldn’t be alive if it were hers... Would she?
One by one, they were forced out of their chairs with violent spasms, forcing the three to get up and contort themselves in a maniacal dance, limbs stretching and contorting in unnatural angles. Their joints snapped in protest as their bodies bent in ways they weren’t supposed to, all while that horrid cacophony kept playing.
Where was she?
Scissors and serpentines and confetti were thrown around aimlessly. Something smelled sweet and salty at the same time.
There was a cake on the table.
“Why don’t you take a bite?” She suggested, inoffensively sitting on top of the fridge. Her words were barely audible through the music.
Each of them got a piece of that cake. A strange one, for sure, but maybe it was tasty..?
Then, it all just... Stopped. The kitchen was clean, there was no cake, no glitter, nothing. They tried to ask the rainbow haired lady what happened, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Something seemed to lurk around the corners of the house after that.
Just after their lunch, ironically with the three still yet to digest that... Episode, they sat down silently in the living room, just hoping to advert their minds from that horrifying session-
The clock started to tick-tock a little too loudly.
"There's always time for a song!"

Chapter Text

It had been nearly a week since those two creatures first arrived at the house, and the three residents were certainly unhappy, to say the least. Their first day was remarkably macabre, and it only got more and more somber as the days passed.
Pushing aside all the trauma the two of them happily caused, they were terrifying even when they weren’t actively trying to be. They didn’t even seem to notice the atrocities they’d commit daily.
Sketchbook, for example, had a habit of eating raw meat, straight out of the refrigerator. She seemed to never get even remotely sick because of it, and often someone would have the bad luck of finding her sitting on the kitchen floor with blood all over her lips, staining her teeth and dripping through her fingers, as she hungrily tears apart a raw, cold piece of meat with her bare teeth. No matter how many times they carefully explained why she shouldn’t be eating uncooked meat, and even after some offers of cooking it for her, she would continue to eat it because of her preference of cold, red, bloody flesh over properly cooked meat.
Sometimes, she’d ask if they knew someone by the name of Paige. For some reason, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell her.
Tony had some sort of temperamental tic that made him constantly hurt himself. Most frequently, he’d roll up his sleeves and scratch his arms as frantically as he can until someone stops him. However, it’s impossible to stop him before he draws blood, and even then, it seems like he constantly attempts to hack his own arms off with his bare hands. He seems to achieve a kind of gratification or pleasure from the mutilating, seen as he enters a dazed state when he deems himself done for the day, eyes half lidded and erratic breathing as he lets his blood seep out carelessly until someone tends to him. Most frequently, though, he’s interrupted by his own companion, who is the only one in the house capable of restraining him and calming him down, and eventually, he gives in and stops.
He claims there is something under his skin that doesn’t belong there.
Both seemed to alternate from friendly and docile, although a little strange, to violent and terrifying, with no warning and no way to foresee it until it’s too late.
In a chilly autumn morning, Tony walked into the living room with a cherry pink letter in hand.
“Sketch, could you come with me for a moment?”
“Of course!” She replied, dusting off her dress and leaving behind a half finished drawing. “Who’s that letter from?”
Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. “The church.”
“Oh.”
“I hate the church.”
“I know.”
And with that, the two closed the door behind themselves, taking seats at the front porch and leaving the trio to wonder not one, but many things. They had seen their fair share of things when they walked around their little felt and thread neighborhood, but neither of the three had ever seen any religious establishment. Where was it located? What did it preach? Why would they send a letter to Tony and Sketch?
“Maybe they’re formally asking them to repent from their sins.” Harry chuckled. In a way, that was a funny thought. He could almost hear the scandalized old ladies as the "sweet rainbow haired miss" and the "dapper looking gentleman" casually admit to comitting every form of murder and torture in the book.
“Hm, I don’t know, this reminds me of something...” Robin pondered, holding his chin as the gears in his head kept turning. “Didn’t Sketch receive a letter right before Tony arrived?”
She did. It was encased in a deep indigo envelope, and from what she “was allowed” to tell, there was something from the antiques shop being touched up and readied to be delivered to her. Silly, naive past them assumed it was just some random paraphernalia she had decided to pick up, but they all swallowed their words when she arrived home dragging a very annoyed Tony by the hand, clock hands twitching up and down quickly as he glared daggers onto the back of her head.
And now, they were getting ready for a third teacher.
Amazing.
A collective groan could be heard from the next room. Whoever it was, apparently Tony and Sketch did not approve either.
“They don’t seem very happy...” Manny commented.
“I wonder what it’s gonna be like for us, then.” Harry replied, sighing.
Tony and Sketch quickly reappeared, both not in their best moods as they strided their way out the opposite door that lead to the kitchen.
"So, what did it say?" Manny asked, swaying his legs back and forth on his seat.
"Nothing of your interest, young man." Tony snapped, strictly but calm, thankfully. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Sketchbook and I are going to drown our frustrations."
Since there were only child-friendly drinks at the house, that only meant they would most likely empty several strawberry milk cartons with outstanding voracity.
That meant Sketch would be (even more of) a force to be reckoned with for the next two hours or so. Not particularly aggressive, but something in that drink awakened a primal instinct in her and they watched Tony being thrown across the room as if he weighed nothing enough times to know that it was better to just be nice and give her what she asked for to keep the peace.
And while that, Tony's personality would do an 180 degree turn and he'd be as friendly and cheery as Sketch. It would be disturbing if it weren't hilarious how excited he'd be about every little thing, and how quickly anyone would become his new best friend (which made Sketch just a little bit jealous). Once Manny made a crudely put together drawing of him and he was so happy about it he almost cried.
Both of them remember nearly nothing the next day, which makes the other two legal adults of the house worry about what ingredients actually go in those things. Maybe it could just be placebo effect, but out of all things, blackout inducing strawberry milk may be one of the least strange things they'd stumble upon.
"Well," Robin started, getting up and ready to go to their shared bedroom as the sun sets, shining pink and orange through the window. "Tomorrow is another day, and we're having a picnic, just the three of us! Won't that be fun?"
"But... Won't they be upset?" Manny whispered, "they" meaning Sketchbook and Tony. As friendly as they usually were, the child couldn't help but be terrified.
"Don't worry about it, we talked to them and they also want some time to themselves. It's all set." Harry replied, messing with the kid's hair reassuringly.
"It's gonna be perfect!"
It wasn't.

Chapter Text

Their picnic location was at a sunny clearing in the woods that grew in the outskirts of the city. For today, the trio had their whole day to themselves; Sketch and Tony had skittered off to somewhere, to do something. Where they were and what they were doing, nobody knows. But both of them knew their way home, so it was nothing to worry about.
They had packed themselves a delicious oven cooked chicken with hard-boiled eggs.
(Well, they thought they did.)
A few minutes into their picnic, Manny spotted a beautiful, tiny flying animal. Could it be a bird, like a pigeon?
No, pigeons are much bigger than that, he thought, stumbling through the bumpy forest ground, almost tripping over tree roots and small bushes.
... A baby pigeon, then?
That sounded more like it.
Regardless of the name of the small winged animal, he chose to follow it, hands up in the air as its wings fluttered through the branches. Both Robin and Harry noticed, but they chose to let the kid enjoy this wholesome, innocent moment as they silently kept an eye on him, careful so he wouldn't stray too far.
It wasn't often he could go out and play; be genuinely happy and careless like most kids his age. Their current situation had rendered him to be a discreet, almost unnoticeable little boy, just trying to survive in his own home. Sketch and Tony would play with him whenever he asked, but their concepts of fun are very differing from those of a regular person, being dangerous and often deadly, so he usually avoided inviting them.
But right now, in this brief moment of happiness, he couldn't be bothered to care about who was watching him, or what would happen in the near future. He just ran and ran through the woods, dodging branches without a care in the world.
Of course, as soon as they blinked, Manny was gone. And they knew what that meant.
They sprinted into the woods, trying to find the child to no avail. They knew it was meaningless to try to halt the lesson, but he shouldn't go through it on his own, they should've been taken with him!
While this, the child sat on a cloud, high above the ground, as a wondrous kingdom unfolded before his eyes, nested in the clouds and basked in the warm, pinkish glow of the sky.
The buildings were painted in soft, delicate tones and patterns; the homes of the kingdom looked more like delicate, porcelain dollhouses, and the castle or temple, majestically settled in the center of the town, seemed entirely built of meticulously cut stained glass.
The butterfly had told him what love was. Apparently, he felt lonely. He didn't know that, but his tutor seemed to know about emotions way more than him, so he saw no reason to disagree. After all, he'd feel alone very often; it seemed to check out.
But there was a solution, he was told. He could join them and their little kingdom, where everyone was full of nothing but love. Then, he would never, ever feel alone again.
Everyone there seemed so... Lovely. So caring, so affectionate. They all loved each other, and he had just arrived, but they loved him too, no matter what. Maybe that really was his place in the world, after all.
It felt like the home he's always dreamed of.
After a short while of meeting everyone in the Love Kingdom, he felt like there were more people there than he had met. People who were lurking around behind the tall flower bushes and trees, watching him. As if there were things he wasn't supposed to know.
He was sat down on a chair, preparing for a very special ceremony. Everyone slowly gathered around him.
Something felt... Wrong. But they wouldn't do anything bad, right? They were their friends! They cared about him, and they loved him too, right?
He found that his hands could no longer be lifted from the armrests, and that his feet were also stuck to the legs of the chair. An undecipherable chant, a malicious glance and the shine of a ceremonial ring; it all terrified him and yet he felt like it was nothing but the mere start of it.
Then, out the corner of his eye, he saw them.
"Mister Tony, Miss Sketch!" He smiled for a moment, and they waved at him as discreetly as possible. They looked different, though. Sketch's hair was now charcoal black, and Tony's usual blue and gold makeup was replaced with white and gray. They looked a bit... Ghostly, but they still were Tony and Sketch, his object friends and occasional caretakers. He loved those two, even if they scared — and hurt — him sometimes, so of course they'd be here.
In the very next second, when he tried to reach towards them and was held back by his restraints, he quickly resumed his panic, uselessly flailing against the binds and almost toppling his own chair over. "Help me! Get me out of here!"
Tony's arm vaguely stretched towards the child, his usually stern expression now laced with worry and hurt, but Sketchbook quickly grabbed his hand and brought it back close to his body, hooking her arm around his with similar melancholy. They could watch, but not interfere; those were the rules.
Looking in the opposite direction, now sobbing and bruising his own wrists against the restraints, he saw Robin and Harry, but... They weren't doing anything. Not running, not screaming... Nothing. They didn't even move towards him, just stood and stared, wearing white robes similar to the other members of the... Family? Church? He wasn't sure.
Were they actually Robin and Harry? Or were they just people who looked like them?
He couldn't really tell, as his tears were blurring his vision and his panic forced him to run out of breath quickly enough to get lightheaded.
Then he woke up, sitting on a fairly high tree branch that he doesn't remember climbing.
In fact, he doesn't remember at all how he got there. It seemed a little too far from the ground for him to have gotten there himself.
"Oh, there you are." Harry's monotone voice called from below, stretching his arms to help him down. He gladly took the help, never so satisfied with having his two feet on solid ground. "Those two told us you'd be here. I don't know how, but they were right. Come on, let's go home."
-
"Listen, I-" Harry whispered, just as the two men close the bedroom door and leave the little boy to rest. "I gotta try it. At least once."
"I don't know, what if she gets angry?" Robin replied in a hushed tone, sitting on the floor and looking through the gaps of the guardrails down at the first floor, where Sketchbook sat on the carpet, idly doodling on a sheet of paper with a blue crayon that probably isn't hers.
"Come on, what's the worst thing that could happen?"
"She could kill us, Harry!"
"And we'd be back just in time for dinner." He retorted, straightening his posture. Before Robin could interject, he loudly spoke.
"Hey, Paige!"
The few seconds of silence were deafening. Sketch had visibly stopped moving her hand across the paper as soon as she heard the name, her head whipping up to look right at the two of them, eyes wide.
She slowly stood up, not breaking eye contact.
Both tensed up, waiting for her to sprint upstairs like an unleashed beast and hack them to pieces, but she didn't. Instead, she walked closer until she reached the foot of the staircase, and there she stood, her big eyes staring into their souls.
"Who's Paige?" She asked, brows furrowing. "Do you know her?"
"Uh, well, we used to." Robin quickly replied. "You... Don't remember anyone named Paige?"
"I don't! Why does everyone know her but me? Who is she?!" She demanded, her foot stomping on the floor.
"Uh, just some girl we used to know, alright? Nothing special, don't worry."
"Then why did you call her as if she's down here with me? There's no one here! Am I supposed to be Paige?"
The room flickers at the end of the sentence. Not just the lights, but the room itself, turning into a deep, empty abyss. The furniture rapidly blinked in and out of existence, leaving behind pitch black silhouettes that'd flicker with strangely fake looking versions of themselves. Chunks of the walls and floor disappeared into the void, before coming back in strange, crooked angles, colors mismatched and blinking like police sirens.
An ear-splitting scream filled the air, followed by loud buzzes akin to TV static and glitching audio. The voice was feminine, and a recognizable one, at that.
Sketch was screaming, terrified, with the desperate pitch only agony could produce. She never screamed like that, even during her worst tantrum. The shrill scream reeked not of frustration, but pain.
In a moment of panic, he yells. "No, you're not Paige! We just wanted to see if you knew her!"
And as abruptly as it started, it was gone. Everything was in its place, the birds restarted their singing and the sun kept shining.
To their surprise, Sketch wasn't responsible for the altering of reality this time, as she laid curled up on the floor, possibly in an attempt to protect herself.
"That wasn't me.. I didn't do that!" Her voice faltered, more of a shaky whimper than a proper sentence. Even from a considerable distance, they could notice her shoulders trembling.
She was crying. A pang of pity hit their chests, and while they considered the odds of trying to console a severely unstable woman who was yelling at them mere seconds ago, footsteps sound from the other side of the corridor.
"What the heck just happened?" Tony asked, looking up and down at the two of them, probably scanning for any damage. The red glass arrows on the sides of his nose twitched up and down frantically, a nervous tic among many others of his. He was reasonably alert, and so were everyone else.
"We don't know either." Robin muttered.

Chapter Text

It all sounded like she laid deep underwater.
She stirred lazily in the arms of whoever held her, trying to open her eyes. It's too bright, though, and so she prefers to burrow her head onto the dark fabric of her savior's clothes.
"Did she move?"
"Mhm, she's pressing her head on my chest. I think she's waking up."
Wait, she knows that voice, no? As she slowly returns to consciousness, she's set down on a bed, sitting up to the best of her abilities.
Her eyes weren't quite focused, and the room spun around her, so she resorted to lying back down.
A vaguely masculine shadow looms over her. "Hey," he softly speaks. "Are you alright?"
Her answer is a moan of pain as her hand lands on her forehead in an attempt to soothe her headache. "What happened?"
"We're not sure." He replies. A pair of red arrows finally focuses in her sight, and she recognizes the voice speaking to her. "Would you like to eat something?"
"But it's not time for dinner yet... Is it?"
Tony smiles, proud to know she's worried about their schedule. "It's almost. You've been out for a while, you know."
"Oh." She softly muttered. "Well, I am a bit hungry, yes."
"Alright, I'll bring your plate here for you. Take a nap, if you'd like." He said, and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
That's when she noticed that the bedroom in question wasn't hers. She had never seen it before, but by the sheer amount of clock imagery, she'd guess it was Tony's.
At first, she thought she could go after Tony and tell him she could have dinner downstairs with everyone else. However, as she stood up from the bed, her vision went black and her legs gave in, forcing her to sit back down.
She groaned. How nice it is to be bed bound, with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling! She can't even see the ceiling, her eyes are all messed up! Oh well, might as well reminisce about... What happened.
Actually, what did happen? She remembers the darkness, and the blinking colours, and everything changing places, and goodness, her body had felt like it'd split open! She doesn't recall ever feeling that much pain, and that's coming from someone who'd often fight Tony out of sheer boredom.
But why did that happen? Something about someone named... Paige? The name felt awfully familiar, and yet she hadn't a clue about how the mere mention of this Paige person could cause all that ruckus.
Who was, really, Paige? She knew it all went south when she got fed up and asked if she was meant to be Paige, but... She isn't Paige, she doesn't even know who that is! She's Sketch, everyone knows that, and you can't be two people at once!
Though, the name Paige sparks some strange memories of hers... Some she didn't even know she had. It was almost like it happened in a different universe. A different timeline, maybe? She'd have to ask Tony if that's possible.
She focused, ignoring her growing headache, and tried to remember the things Paige remembers.
~
"Wow, look at you!" Her voice cooed. Or well, almost her voice. It sounded slightly different, lower, she guesses. She looks around, and she seems to be in a dressing room of sorts, with light up mirrors and everything. Fancy, she thinks.
There's someone laid down on a recliner chair, with two or three people over their face applying makeup. They seem almost awkwardly tall, barely fitting comfortably in the chair.
Their skin is the color of bronze, and the tiny bit of hair that she could see was midnight black. Although she couldn't consciously recall anyone similar, the person had a sense of familiarity. A friend, she decided.
She walks closer, chuckling, and Sketch notices this person is very, very familiar. They even smell familiar, like wood with a hint of lemon. "I guess blue really does suit you! Don't you think so, girls?"
The makeup artists murmured in agreement, and opened way for her to see their client.
Although her memory self is calm and happy, Sketch herself was shocked as she revisited this memory. It was Tony, but his face wasn't... Finished? His arrows were nowhere to be seen and the markings were missing their metallic, glittery shine. Her eye caught the last stroke of brown being covered with blue paint, right above his eyebrow.
So... Tony's skin isn't actually blue? Or is memory Tony somehow different from reality Tony? Well, her memory self wasn't the same as her reality self too, she noticed, as a strand of blonde hair falls over her eyes. She wipes it away with an ungloved, not quite white hand. It's some sort of salmon, light beige color..? Weird.
"You're so handsome, look at you~" She jokingly cooed in a high-pitched voice that sounded exactly like Sketch's voice. It's creepy how she was watching though the eyes of someone similar to her, who could sound just like her, but isn't her... Technically. "Angelo, you look so cute, I just wanna put you in a little box and keep you on my shelf."
So Tony has another name too? Interesting. And it's Angelo. Such a pretty name...
He chuckled, opening one eye to look up at her. "Oh stop, you're making me blush." He replies, smiling, turning his head away from her in pretend shyness. "You know I'm shy."
"Oh, sure thing you are."
That's the last thing she heard before she felt something touch her real body, startling her back to the current world.
~
"Sketch? Sketch~?" Tony called out, nudging her shoulder slightly. She groans, opening her eyes just enough to acknowledge him. "You fell asleep sitting down, dear, you might not wanna do that." He smiled.
She glanced at his smile. It all was still pretty blurry, but it seemed identical...
Time to experiment.
"Ah, no, I was just... Thinking." She mumbles, pretending to be a lot more sleepy than she really was. "But thanks anyway, Angelo, I appreciate it."
That heavy, tense and somewhat awkward air hanged over their shoulders, just like it was with her.
"... That's not my name. You... You know that, right?"
"Huh?" She tilts her head, then pretends to realize something. "Ah, right. Sorry, Tony, I must've dreamt something... My vision is all messed up..."
"Ah, alright. Anyways, your food is on the bedside table." He then winces in pain, holding his forehead.
"You alright there?"
"Yeah, just... Headache." He mutters, shaking his head as if to chase the pain away.
"I know," She replies, reaching for his hand. "Just try to remember."
"What?" He asks, his eyes tightly shut.
"Remember back when you didn't have arrows, and when your skin wasn't blue? I know it's hard to, and I know it hurts, but ignoring it will only hurt more, and you'll end up like me down there in the living room." She explains, soothingly rubbing circles on the back of his hand. "Just go with the flow. Remember back when you were Angelo."
At this point, he was kneeled beside the bed, with his head against the mattress, poking at her thigh. "I... I do remember. I remember you, but you looked different. You were always so nice to me... We were best friends, right?"
"I think so."
"But I remember before I met you, too... When I had to do things I didn't really like to do. It was fun at first, but when it became all I was known for... I didn't like it one bit."
His story seemed familiar to her. Somehow, she knew that, before they met, he had done things that he was deeply ashamed of.
Something told her it wasn't his fault.
"It's all in the past now, though. All those things people said to me, everything they made me do... It's all over." He began to cry, hands grasping onto the sheets. "And yet it still makes me sick."
Sketch's sixth sense kicked in; a gut feeling that told her this was an issue that ran way deeper than just today, and that she knew the protocol for this crisis.
"Hey, look at me." She gently spoke, and he complied. "You're not the gross things they called you, alright? You're much more than just something for people to stare at until they got what they wanted. You're talented, and passionate, and caring. And you know that, so don't pay them any mind."
She reached for his hair, combing through it with her fingers. He leaned against her thigh, watching her with big, watery eyes. "Your beauty reaches way beyond your looks, Tony... or Angelo." She smiles. "Your heart is the most beautiful thing you've got, and that's something they'll never taint."
"... You're right." He had calmed down, blinking away the last few tears, although his heart still pounded against his chest. "How do you always know what to say?"
"Not me this time," She smiled. "Right now it was Paige."

Chapter Text

"Careful... There we go, small steps."
Sketch's hands clutched onto Tony's wrists with remarkable strength, taking a single, shaky step forward as she stared down at the floor.
"What are you looking at?" He asked, lowering his sight as well.
"Nothing," She replied, slightly nervous. "I can't see anything when I'm standing up."
"Okay... You wanna sit back down?" He offered.
She shook her head no. "I wanna keep going, I think I can see your shoes now. Sorta."
"What color are they?"
Her eyes narrowed in thought. "... Magenta."
"They're red. But hey, close enough." He shrugged. "At least you're starting to see again."
A second step. A little more confident than the first, but not too big of a change.
"Agreed. Now there's a vaguely blue shadow I can spot from the rest of the room, which helps a lot," She comments. "Because I kinda can't see where the walls are."
He snickered. "Don't worry, I won't let you hit the wall."
Another step. She's doing much better.
"I'm trusting you, Tony." She replies. "And I can see your arrows now."
"That's good to hear. Sounds like you're getting back to normal."
She picks up a consistent pace; not a very fast one, but at least she could walk without needing too much help. She still held on to Tony's wrists, although not as tightly as before.
"I think I'm okay now. I can walk just fine," She comments. "And I can see you just fine, too."
"How do I look, after all this time?" He jokingly asked, leaning his head to the side in a playful manner.
"As handsome as I remembered." She replies, smiling at him. "Your hair is a bit messed up, though."
"Oh, um... Thank you," He responds, a little quieter than usual. He tries to comb his hair back into place with his fingers, but it isn't fixing much.
"You're only messing it up more!" She exclaims, and pushes his hand away. "Here, let me-"
She gets on the very tip of her feet, but it's still too high up for her to reach it comfortably enough to fix it. "Ugh, you're too tall! Bend down a little, please?"
"Here," He says, getting down on his knees. "I think you can reach me now. Tell me if I need to go lower."
"Haha, very funny." She replies, unimpressed.
Her nails comb through his hair, smoothing out the rebellious strands that stuck out in weird angles. "That's better."
The door opens, and Robin peeks out from behind it. "Hey you two, I just-"
He goes silent as he analyzes the scene in front of him. Sketch and Tony both stare back, blinking in synchrony exactly once.
"... Am I interrupting something?"
Tony snaps out of his trance as his arrows sprung to 3:45, eyes wide. "What? No, she was just fixing my hair," He explained as he got to his feet. "That's all."
Robin hesitated before speaking again. "... Alright. Well, I just wanted to check on you two. Sketch, are you feeling better? Glad to see you up and going again!"
"Oh, yeah! I'm all better now," She turns towards Tony, and grabs his hand. "Can we go downstairs? I think it'll rain tonight, and I wanna watch the rain!"
She could watch it from here, he thought. He wouldn't mind if she stayed a little longer.
But eventually, he nodded. "Sure."
They made their way downstairs, and Sketch immediately claims her place on the couch, leaning her chest on the armrest next to the window with her legs to the opposite side. Tony sits next to her, and rests his head on her shoulder. While this, Robin sits on his rocking chair and picks up his history book, reading quietly.
Harry, who read the newspaper on his armchair and had been silent since they arrived, finally lifts his eyes off the paper. "Oh, hey Sketch. Feeling better?"
"Much better." She replies, smiling at him. "Did I miss anything important?"
"Nothing big happens in this house unless one of you is involved, and since Tony was too busy throwing a fit about what happened-"
"Hey!"
"-You didn't miss much."
He briefly glances at Tony, who now hugged Sketch as if she'd fly away with the wind if he let go. "Someone's a little clingy."
"Harry, don't be mean! He's just worried, that's all." Sketch lightheartedly answers, while Tony stared at him with apocalyptic fury in his eyes.
Harry's attention returns to the newspaper as a series of quick steps come down the staircase, and soon enter the living room.
"Miss Sketchbook, are you okay?" Manny asks, looking at her with almost exaggerated worry. "Harry said you fainted, but Robin didn't let me see you until you woke up. What happened?"
"Don't worry, little artist, I'm feeling brand new!" She replies in a cheery tone, messing with his hair. "I just didn't get enough sleep last night, that's all. That's why you should always listen to Tony when he says it's time to go to bed, you know."
He nods, taking the advice very seriously before turning to his toy box and fishing out some miniature cars.
And for a moment, all was peace.
Until something hit itself against the window.
"Aww, why look at you two. Such a lovely young couple," Said a voice, muffled by the glass. "Took you long enough to be together, huh?"
"Huh?" Sketch replied, tilting her head to the side in confusion. "Shrignold, we're not... Together."
"Oh, really?" He smugly asks. "Why did Tony fall asleep cuddling you, then? Don't tell me he showed up out of nowhere."
"Tony's not..." She pauses her speech to check on him, and indeed, Tony had slid from her shoulder to her waist and now peacefully slept, using his arms as a pillow. "Asleep... Hm, I hadn't noticed that. Then again, he had a stressful day, poor guy. That still doesn't mean we're dating."
"But consider doing so, friend." Shrignold insisted. "I think he likes you a lot more than you can imagine! Come see me later if you'd like to talk about it."
And with that, he flew away, leaving behind an awkward silence.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked. "He hit himself against our window, said 'hey, I think Tony likes you', then flew away?"
"I guess so."
"How do you two put up with him?"
"We don't." Sketch answers with a smile.
She then turns her attention towards her sleeping friend, and gently nudges his shoulder. "Mr. Clock, it's time to wake up~!"
"Hm?" He groaned, blinking slowly. "Oh, um... Sorry, Sketch, I didn't mean to..."
"Don't worry, friend," She replied with a smile. "You had a rough day, it's alright."
"I think I need some coffee."
"Suit yourself."
Just as she said that, thunder boomed loudly, and almost immediately rain poured down from the sky.
Tony, still only half awake, got startled by the sound and nearly tripped over Manny on his way to the kitchen, leaving the scene wordlessly.
Sketch seemed hypnotized by the rain, watching it attentively with a calm smile. Harry and Robin both lifted their eyes to the window at the sound of thunder, but were quick to ignore it.
"Psst," Sketch heard, barely a whisper, but close enough to draw her attention.
She finally takes her eyes off the storm outside, now facing the mug of hot chocolate being offered to her.
"I made it for you." Tony quietly said, sitting down as the mug was lifted off his hand and into hers, his own mug of steaming black coffee in his hand.
"Aww, thanks." She replies, and takes a sip. It's creamy and sweet, with a hint of cinnamon. She loves cinnamon in her hot chocolate.
No, wait, she's never tried it before.
But it tastes familiar.
Someone knocks on the door.
"I'll go get it!" She replies, setting the mug on a nearby desk and heading for the door.
She opens the door to face Shrignold, absolutely drenched.
"Hello, friend," He says, even softer than usual. "I'm sorry for showing up like this, but it seems I can't fly back to the Love Kingdom in this weather. I had to turn back before I was knocked out of the sky. Would you mind if I stayed here, just until the rain is over?"
Sketchbook takes one look at him, helpless, soaking wet and shivering, and giggles. A rather loud noise at that, and one every member of the household knows very well.
It makes Harry widen his eyes for a second, Manny check frantically behind his back to assert her eyes weren't on him, and Robin nearly jump out of his skin.
Even Tony shivers as the characteristic sing song timbre sounds once again.
"Why, of course! We're always open to our friends," She happily replies, nearly dragging the butterfly into the house. "Oh, and we had something to talk about, didn't we?"
She stops right by the couch, all eyes in the room anxiously caught on her.
Her eyes, sharp as daggers above her overly kind smile, focus on her forever companion.
"Tony!~" She sweetly calls, although her mellow voice has a hidden edge to it. "Why don't you come with us? It's of your interest, I'm sure."
He smiles as he gets up, a saccharine grin nearly identical to hers, and sets down his own mug. "Why of course, dear."
Shrignold excitedly whispers something about the pet name, but is largely ignored as the three head to the basement.
The trio finally release a breath they didn't notice they held.
"Harry," Robin cautiously starts. "Is it bad that I'm glad it was him and not one of us?"
"Nah," He replied. "Besides, he's been bothering those two for like, a week now. It's deserved."
"Harry!"

Chapter Text

Tricked. He had been tricked.
Just as they reached the basement those two lunged upon him, and Shrignold, ever the pacific preacher, was no match for them.
He couldn't understand, it didn't make sense. Those two seemed so full of love — they never left each other's side, they knew each other's little quirks and preferences... Heck, Tony nearly had an aneurysm when Sketch hadn't woken up from her fainting after fifteen minutes.
And yet, they were also so hateful, so malicious, doing terrible things to him without a care in the world. They had either cut or bruised every inch of skin on his body, and even though it'd heal tomorrow, he'd never forget those kind, lighthearted smiles they wore as they mercilessly tore him open.
He couldn't lie, he had done similar things. But he had his reasons. He only did it to guide the lost souls in Malcolm's righteous path. He was trying to save them, not destroy them! And even then, he was never so extreme.
"Oh, Shrignold, don't get us wrong," Sketch cooed, her voice coated in sweet, yet poisonous tone. "It's just because we have to share. If only you had brought a friend..."
He was certain she had continued her speech, but he couldn't hear her over the agonizing feeling of Tony's fingers slithering into an open wound and peeling his skin off his muscles.
"Sketch," Tony warningly called, as she peeled a flap of skin nearly completely off his chest with her bare nails, exposing muscle and some bone. "Don't even think about it."
She whined, her bloodstained hands still all over the bleeding injury. "Aw, just a bite!"
"No."
"She wants... To eat me..?" Shrignold managed to choke out.
"Mhm, blood really opens her appetite." Tony casually replies. "She's done that to me too, but as it turns out, I don't taste too good."
"All that coffee makes your flesh bitter. Ew." Sketch comments. "Either way, I just wanted a bite or two! You know I prefer animal meat!"
Even though all his agony, Shrignold managed to wonder how they were so... Nonchalant throughout that conversation.
"Don't. He was out in the rain, that can't be good for you."
"Right." She pouts, but it isn't long before her eyes brighten up. "Tony, can you do the thing?"
He chuckles, removing his bloodstained gloves. "Sure. Where should I start?"
"Hm, maybe right here." She suggests, pressing her finger right on the open wound, which makes Shrignold twitch. "Then maybe I'll lose my appetite."
Tony presses his hand on the wound, and the sensation is undescribable. The skin bubbles and burns without heat; it curls into itself, darkens and lets the decay dig further, the initial spot now a nearly liquid brown substance that mixes with the ever flowing blood bursting out of the rotten flesh.
He screams, but his consciousness doesn't last too long. Whatever it is, it reaches a vital organ and he's out.
He comes back slowly, the world around him gradually fading in, muffled sounds becoming clearer as he slowly blinks his eyes open.
He's in the living room now, lying down on the couch. The memories are fresh in his mind, and so he takes a minute to recollect.
"Dude," Harry calls, from somewhere in his peripheral vision. "You alright?"
"Um... Well, I am, but..." Shrignold stammered, but the words to describe his feelings simply didn't come to him.
"It's fine. First time is always the worst, honestly." He comments. "At least you don't live here. By the way, the sky's all clear today, you can go back home."
"Oh, thank Malcolm..." He sighs. "Not to complain about your residence, friend, not at all! But I simply have to return."
"I don't blame you for wanting to leave as soon as you can. Not after that." He chuckles.
"Aw, leaving this soon?" Tony's voice sounds as he enters the room, putting the other two instantly on edge. "I'm afraid not. Sketch and I still have unfinished business with you."
"Aren't you... Done with me yet?" He nervously asks. "Why'd you free me, then?"
Tony chuckles. "Oh, no, our fun is over. But we still need to talk to you. It's a serious matter, I'm sure Sketchbook would explain it much better than me."
"And where is she?"
"In her bedroom, still asleep. My schedule is to wake her up at 8:30." He sighs under his breath, staring off to the ground. "She normally wakes up at eight o'clock, but she's had some rough nights lately..."
"Well, I heard her crying once or twice," Harry commented. "But I never got around to ask, you know. Nightmares?"
Tony nods. "She's had lots of dreams about us at the house shaming her for... Something. She never tells me what it is, though." He holds his own arms, crossing them over his chest. "Often she dreams that I want to seriously harm her, too. I wonder why..."
"Aw, poor thing." Shrignold whines. "I can't imagine what's going on in her head to cause all those bad dreams."
"Yeah, she's always so bright and happy," Harry adds. "It's strange to think she's been having nightmares so often."
"She's very optimistic about it all going away soon, though- Oh," He raises both eyebrows in realization. "It's 8:15 already! You should start arranging breakfast while I'll wake up Manny and Robin."
"Yes, boss." Harry replies with a halfhearted military salute as Tony climbs up the stairs. "Come on, let's get the table ready."
-
A few minutes later, Robin and Manny get to the kitchen, the child obviously still half asleep as he nearly bumps his shoulder on the doorframe. Harry places a slice of buttered toast in front of his seat, nudging his shoulder so he wouldn't doze off.
"And where's Tony?" Shrignold asks, adding a generous amount of honey to his coffee.
"He waits for Sketch to wake up," Harry replies. "It's not too practical to be going up and down the stairs all the time."
"Aww, that's so sweet! See, that's why I think he likes her!" Shrignold excitedly comments, only pausing to try his coffee. "Wouldn't they make such a great couple?"
"I think they're better off as friends, Shrignold," Robin quipped. "They don't seem to like each other that way. Tony's just worried because his friend hasn't been doing well lately, and I think we'd all act the same way."
"I think Tony likes her too." Manny muttered. "He told me. Kinda."
"Oh, really?" Shrignold excitedly asked, eyes shining. "What did he say?"
"Good morning! What are you guys talking about?" Sketch suddenly asks, walking into the kitchen with nearly the same bright, happy energy as always, although her eye bags were easily noticeable. Tony followed behind her, watching her every move as if she'd fall apart without his protection.
Of course, nobody would admit the topic of their conversation, and only silence filled the room.
"... Um, guys?" She called again, a little more awkwardly this time. "Is there something wrong?"
Under Tony's glare, Shrignold finally broke the silence. "No, of course not! We were just worried about you. Did you sleep well?"
It took her a little longer than expected to reply. "Mhm."
"You don't seem very confident in your answer, friend."
"Leave her alone, Shrignold. She just woke up." Tony interjected, with annoyance in his voice.
Before Shrignold could reply, a small rectangular object flew from no discernable direction and hit him square in the face.
"Tony!"
"It wasn't me!"
Shrignold lifts his head with a groan, holding said object in his hand. "Ow... What is this?"
"Oh, I think I know!" Sketch replied. "Keep it with you, we can talk about it after breakfast."
"Along with the other topics." Tony added.
"Yes, exactly."
-
"So," Shrignold awkwardly started. "What did you wanna talk about again?"
The three teachers were sat in the game room, each with a cup of their preferred beverage.
"Well," Sketchbook started, lowering her cup of hot chocolate (with cinnamon). "There's a few things. But I guess we could start by the memories, right?"
"Mhm. Shrignold, do you know why Sketchbook passed out a few days ago?" Tony asked.
"No, friends, I was only told she went unconscious. Honestly, I was quite worried! You're too young of a lady to be falling ill like that, and in a house full of men at that-"
"Shrignold." Tony warningly called with a forced smile. "Sketch is very well cared for in this house, and for you to even imply-"
"Tony. Enough." Sketch sternly called. "He didn't mean to. He was as worried as you were, that's all. Please, can we go back to the topic?"
Tony takes a deep breath, and seems to calm down. "Right. Well, since it happened to Sketch, I'm sure she'll explain it better than me. Dear, please tell us what happened that day."
"Of course. Well, it all started with Harry calling me Paige. It annoyed me a tad bit, because our owner talked about someone named Paige every now and then and I never got to know who she was... So I asked him if I were meant to be Paige. And it felt so... Familiar."
She glanced down at her own hands, as if to guarantee they're real. "Something told me that yes, I was Paige. But it couldn't be, right? That isn't my name. And so, I was stubborn, and insisted that my name wasn't Paige, and that I didn't look how those new memories showed me. And that's when everything started to go wrong."
"Something similar happened to me, when Sketchbook called me by the wrong name. Although this time, she was there to guide me and there wasn't as much damage." Tony added. "And just like Sketch is Paige, I'm Angelo. And we're trying to figure out what happened to those two for them to become... The two of us."
Shrignold looked at the two with what could only be described as condescending concern. "Friends... I think there might be some negative energies perturbing you. Trickster spirits, perhaps. If you could come to a few of our ceremonies, I'm sure all these... Visions would stop."
"Shrignold, we're being serious!" Sketch cried out. "This could be something life-changing! And if you don't have it, then great, but we need to know who were those two before they became us. It's our bodies and our lives we're talking about!"
Silence filled the room. Sketch rarely raised her voice, even when she became upset or wanted to threaten.
"... Right. Well, if I ever 'remember' things from another life, I'll come talk to you."
"Why can't you believe us?" Tony asked. "With all due respect, Shrignold, you're in a cult, how hard can it be for you to-"
Shrignold sighed, and got up with a kind, yet demeaning look. Both the others knew what that meant.
They'd hear him preach, whether they liked it or not.
"Malcolm's Church is not a cult, Anthony. I'm sorry you have such a distorted worldview." He replied, again with the tone of someone who believed to know much more than his listeners. "If only your mind wasn't poisoned by hate, you'd be so happy with us."
"You do realize 'Tony' is my full name, right?"
"But at least one of you has hope. You know, Sketch, I see seeds of love laid deep within you..."
"That doesn't sound good at all!"
"If only you'd give them the chance to bloom into beautiful flowers, than maybe you'd even find yourself in better company. You don't need to settle for someone just because they're pretty and fancy, you know. You can always meet new people."
Sketch's peripheral vision catches Tony's muscles tensing and his eyes zoning out to a random spot on the floor.
She giggles. "You're so funny, Shrignold. Talking about my best friend like that, right in front of him! I've said this before, but I can repeat it. Tony and I are not dating, and even as friends I am not 'settling' for him." She comments, her tone getting more and more serious as she kept talking.
"I like having him around, not because he's beautiful, but because he's a gentleman with a heart of gold, unlike you!" She glared, furious. "Ever since you met us, you've been trying to push us together, no matter how many times we told you we didn't want that! And then you come into our house to tell me I'm 'settling' for my best friend just because he's pretty?"
Her eyes were pits of fire, a disaster waiting to happen as she growled, "Get out."
"You see, Sketch, that's what I was worried about." Shrignold sighed. "You were much more nice and composed than that when I first met you, and I can only think of one person prone to fits of rage like that. I think you're being badly influenced, and that worries me."
Sketchbook looked like she was a minute away from tearing his head off. Her hand reached for her pencil.
"Actually, Shrignold," Tony speaks up, rising from his chair. "I agree, you should be worried."
"Tony-"
"It's alright, dear. He's just forgotten our little talk." He smiles, relishing the now growing fear in the preacher's eyes. "Surely you wouldn't mind to repeat it with me?"
Suddenly, Shrignold seemed to change his mind. "No, no, listen- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have talked about the two of you like that. Your friendship is beautiful, and I shouldn't try to push it further without the two of you wishing for it. I apologize for my faults, friends, I really do."
Sketch excitedly claps. "Nice! By my standards, you're forgiven. How about you, Tony?"
"I forgive him, too. With one condition, however."
"Yes?" Shrignold asks.
"You're going to stop bothering Sketch and I, and you'll let us live in peace, as friends."
"Deal!" He said, in a rush. "Can I leave now?"
"One more thing!" Sketchbook piped up. "About that little device you got... Try that button and tell us about it later."
"Don't bother showing up too soon, though." Tony muttered.
"Got it, I'm going home now." He quickly said, already halfway through the door. "Goodbye!"
"Bye!" Sketch excitedly waves, smiling.
"May the devil carry you far!" Tony chuckled as the preacher slammed the door shut.
The two turned around, heading upstairs.
"I'm glad that's over," Sketch sighs, "Are you alright? He said some rather mean things about you..."
"I'm fine, dear," He replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I know better than to listen to him."
The trio watched as they happily made their way to Sketch's room.
"So... What were you saying about Tony liking Sketch?" Harry monotonously asked.
"Oh, right!" The child exclaimed, clapping once. "It was really late at night, and I went downstairs to get a cup of water. Mister Tony was in the kitchen already and he looked a bit sad, so I asked him what was wrong and he said he thinks he found his special one, but he doesn't think she likes him back. So I asked him if he had asked his special one if she liked him, and he said he wasn't brave enough."
"But how do you know it's Sketch?"
"Well, there's only one 'she' in the house," Robin started. "And Tony isn't the most sociable guy. That only leaves Sketch, really."
"I mean, he goes on really long walks sometimes. Who's to say he's not meeting someone?"
"Someone more special than Sketch?"

Chapter Text

"So, what did you want to show me?" Tony asks, comfortably seated at the edge of Sketch's bed.
"I'm looking for it- Oh," Came her reply, muffled since she leaned waist deep into her closet, rummaging through her clothes looking for something. "Found it!"
She pulls out a black jacket with red lapels and buttons, with golden lining at the edges of the fabric. Compared to Sketch's size, it nearly reached her knees, and the sleeves seemed too long for her arms.
"Ta-da!"
"Well, it certainly is a beautiful coat, but it's nearly a dress for someone your size." He smiled.
"Well, it is quite big on me, but that's because it's not mine." She brings it closer, and he sees a white adhesive tape stuck to the inside. "You see the name on it?"
It read "Angelo T.".
"It's Angelo's coat." He whispered. "So, Angelo and Paige were here before us after all."
"And I think it's just your size too. It even smells like you!"
Tony pauses, looking up at her with a strange expression. "It... Smells like me?"
"Yes, like the cologne you use! The one that smells like lemons!"
He chuckled. "I didn't know I smelled like lemons. How did you even notice that?"
"I'm beside you the whole day, of course I'd know! You probably know how I smell like, too!"
"I do not, really." He shrugs.
He knew what she smelled like: fresh paint and brand new books. It was unmistakable to him. But it felt weird to know, and wrong to admit. As if it was way past their boundaries for him to recognize it.
"Oh well, maybe you don't have a good nose." She comments, folding the jacket. "Here, I thought you'd like to keep it."
"I sure would, thank you. Have you found anything of Paige's as well?"
"Nope, and that's all I found from Angie, too."
"Angie? You gave Angelo a nickname?"
Her face went gray. "Um, I think Paige did, I remember calling him that all the time... It was automatic, I didn't give him a nickname."
"Why is your face all gray, then?~" He teased, showing her a smug smile.
She gasps, putting both hands on her hips. "It is not!"
"There's a mirror right behind you, see by yourself."
She looks at the mirror behind her, and quickly whips her head back to him. "Alright, maybe it is, but that means nothing!"
"Sure thing, darling."
She grabs him by the shoulders, and pushes him off her bed. "Oh, get out, you!"
Instead, he only fell limp to the floor, his hand propping up his head, that teasing smile still on his face.
"What'cha gonna do now?"
She huffs, slides an arm under his legs, other under his back, and lifts him off the floor.
Stomping to the door, Sketch kicks it open and throws him on the corridor, Tony falling butt first onto the hardwood floor. Before he could finish lamenting the pain, her door closes.
Harry stood only a few feet away from him, having just climbed up the stairs.
"What happened?"
"I was teasing Sketch and ended up here."
"Oh. Is she okay, though?"
"I was thrown to the floor right in front of you and you're worried about her?" He asks, getting up and dusting off his suit. "Yes, she's fine. I was just teasing her because she gave Angelo a nickname and-"
"Tony, hold on. Who's Angelo?"
The two stare wordlessly at each other for longer than they should.
"It's a long story."
"I have the time to hear it."
He sighs. "Only if you swear you won't think I'm crazy."
"Can't be much worse than Shrignold's cult stuff."
Tony breathes in. "Do you remember when Sketchbook passed out? Well, I don't think she's ever told you guys this but... She remembered some things because of that. Some memories that aren't... Hers... And so do I. It's strange to explain."
"... What?"
"You knew a woman named Paige, right?" He blurted out. "Blonde, green eyes, looked like she hadn't seen the sun in months?"
Harry's heart froze. Yes, he knew her. It was her, their Paige. The one who was so careful to not scare Manny away, and who always had the time to listen and to help.
"Yes." Was all he could say.
"How about a man named Angelo?" He continues. "Dark skin, blue eyes, around the same height as me..."
He also knew him. Angelo was a sweet, calm guy who'd always try to make other people laugh. He was beautiful, definitely, but that was far from his only quality: the guy had a heart of gold, and had a way with emotions better than anyone in the set.
He missed those two. Now, the same bodies roam the house, but the people are so, so different.
"I knew both of them." He simply answered.
"Harry, we managed to remember before the house. Before we were all here, when she was Paige and I was Angelo. We don't remember everything, but we know something, at least."
His eyes widen. "You two remember?" He asks.
Tony nods. "Not all, but like I said, I think we know a good amount."
"... I need to tell the others. That means we can escape, right?"
Tony cocked his head to the side.
"... Escape what?"
"This place. It's all fake, you know that, right?"
"I don't think I follow. Are you saying this house... Doesn't exist?"
"The whole city, Tony. Nothing here really exists." He simply says, before turning on his heel and trotting down the stairs. "I gotta talk to Robin."
"Harry, if I find out you're playing tricks on me, you'll be in big trouble!" He speaks louder, but Harry doesn't react.
Instead, he hurriedly walks into the living room and nudges Robin, nearly messing up his tricot.
"Huh? Harry, what's wrong? I haven't seen you this agitated in months!"
"Sketch and Tony remember, Robin. They remember back when they were people." Harry whispered, almost exasperated.
"You... You mean like-"
"Paige and Angelo, yeah. They said they know some stuff, not all of it, but at least they know."
"You think they know a way out? I mean, Sketch must've brought Tony from somewhere, right?"
"Maybe, but I don't think they realize that there's an 'out', you know." He sighs. "As far as they're concerned, this place is as real as you and I."
"Oh well... Maybe one day they'll figure it out." Robin replies, shrugging. "Do you think that bee knows anything about it?"
"Shrignold isn't a bee, he's a butterfly. It's pretty obvious."
"Regardless! Do you think he knows something or not?"
"I don't know, Sketch and Tony aren't very fond of him. I don't think they talk a whole lot, especially about this."
"Hmm, that's fair." Robin mutters, looking around. "... Hey, have you seen Manny anywhere? He's not here."
"He was tired from playing the whole afternoon, so he's taking a little nap."
While this, Manny was wide awake. He knocked on the door across from his room: Tony's room. He had always found the clockman a bit scary, but he needed to talk to somebody.
The door opened, and Tony immediately crouched down to Manny's height.
"Yes?- Oh, hello," He spoke, softer than his usual booming voice. "You look a little disheveled. Is something wrong?"
Indeed, the child seemed a little startled. His eyes were red and puffy, sweat stuck his blue hair to his forehead, and he anxiously fidgeted with a paw of his beloved teddy bear.
"Mister Clock, can I come in? I had a nightmare." He spoke, his voice still a little shaky.
"Of course, please do." The man replied, making way for the boy to shyly step inside. "And you can just call me Tony, alright?"
"Alright, mister Tony." Manny nodded, taking a seat on the fluffy black carpet.
Tony closed the door, and took a seat beside the child. "So, you had a nightmare?"
The boy only nodded.
"That must've been scary. What happened in your nightmare?"
"You and miss Sketchbook were fighting, but- but not like you normally do. You two were angry, really, really angry, and yelling, and she threw you on the wall and you weren't moving anymore. Then she started to eat you."
"Eat me?"
"Uh huh. She grabbed your hand, put one finger in her mouth and pulled it off with her teeth, and blood went everywhere but she didn't mind and started drinking it, and then-"
"That's enough, young man. You're scaring me!" He chuckled. The child, however, wasn't finding it all very humorous. "And hey, you know Sketch and I are friends, right? We only play fight, we're never mad at each other!"
"Really?"
"Of course! In fact, we could go talk to Sketchbook right now about your nightmare!" He smiled, scooping the kid up in his arms. "I'm sure she'll have something in mind to help you brighten up!"
"Okay then. It won't be scary, right?"
"Of course not! How scary could Sketchbook even be?"
Manny quietly blinks at him, hoping he'd remember all the times she managed to corner the trio and expose them to unspeakable horrors, when she wasn't busy leaping at Tony's throat.
"Well. Either way." He awkwardly sighed. "Let's go talk to her."
The two head to her room, and knock on the door.
"Yes? Oh, hi!"
"Hello, Sketch." Tony replied, waltzing in with the child in his arms. "This young man right here had a nightmare. Could you help us get that bad dream out of his mind?"
"Of course! Sit down, the two of you." She motions to the fluffy, multicolored carpet as the door closes, and she joins them not much later. "Well, when I have bad dreams, I try to do things I like, so the bad thoughts are replaced by happy ones!"
"That makes sense." Tony nods. "So, Manny, what do you like to do?"
The child ponders for a moment before answering. "I like painting pictures... Can I- Could I paint a picture?"
"Of course! You can sit at my desk, there's paper and paint. If you need anything, tell us, alright?"
The child nods, climbing on a chair a little too tall for someone his size. Once he settles, he picks the colours and a sheet of paper, and starts painting.
"So," Sketch whispers, leaning closer. "What was the nightmare?"
"We were fighting, you killed me and started eating my fingers."
"Eww."
"That's right." He shudders. "The boy has a fertile imagination. I wonder what'll come out of that painting."
"We can take a look later. Oh, and also!"
"What?"
"I finished your top hat!~"
He gasps, his eyes shining. He had asked Sketch to renew his old top hat a few days ago, and he'd been anxiously waiting since.
She grabbed a box from under her bed, and handed it over to him.
He nearly tore it open with no hesitation, and she couldn't help but admire the marveled gleam in his eyes as he reached inside.
He pulls out a lustrous black top hat, with a red ribbon wrapped around it, ending in a yellow and red bow similar to his tie. As he flipped it around, he noticed that his name was embroidered inside, with golden thread, in a very fancy lettering style.
"Do you like it?"
He looked at her with big, shiny eyes, and threw himself on top of her. "Oh, I love it! It's perfect, beyond anything I had imagined!"
She laughed as her back hit the floor, pressed against the carpet by the weight of her friend, and hugged him back.
"Are you guys making babies?"
The two look up at the child, clearly confused.
"You can't just... Make babies." Tony starts, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Can you?"
"Not without thread and fabric, I think. Actually, there's a lot of materials involved, not even I have all we'd need to make one." Sketch explains as the two sit up. "Hearts that aren't already old are very tricky to find, you know."
"Either way, young man, why do you ask?"
The kid kicks his feet back and forth, looking down as if he's ashamed of something. "When I lived with my dad, one day I went into his room and he didn't see me. I saw videos of people hugging each other naked, and my dad told me that's how you make babies."
The two teachers shudder. That didn't seem very... Pleasant.
"That sounds a little inappropriate for someone your age. We'll have to talk with the other two about that."
"Am I in trouble?"
'No, of course not! We're just worried, is all." Sketch gently spoke. "After all, you don't live with your dad anymore for a reason."
"Oh."
"Mhm. So, we'll let you stay here for a moment, and we'll go talk to the others. Alright?"
The child nodded. "Alright, mister Tony."
The two teachers exit the room, Tony now sporting his new top hat, and walk downstairs to the kitchen.
"You guys, we have a question." Sketch said, as the two teachers postured themselves in a formal manner.
"Go ahead, ask!" Robin replied.
Just as they opened their mouths, the phone behind them ringed.
"I'll get it!" Sketch piped up, quickly grabbing the phone. "Hello?"
Her expression changes to one of broken expectations. "Oh, it's Shrignold. What is it?"
After a few seconds of listening, her eyes widen and brighten, giving Tony a knowing look with a small smile on her lips.
"We're getting someone new next week." She whispered, just enough for him to understand. "Alright, Shrignold, thanks for telling us, but I'm really busy today and I'll have to say goodbye. Goodbye!"
And with that, she hangs up the phone. "Anyways, we just needed to know how babies are made."
Tony nods solemnly by her side.
The other two looked at them in a mix of shock and disbelief.
"... Okay, first off," Harry sputtered. "Why do you want to know?"
"Yeah, are you trying to have one?"
"Oh no, friends, not at all! This is about Manny, actually. He asked us if we were making babies and we think it's a bit worrying that he'd come to that conclusion, since we were just hugging."
"He mentioned he saw videos of it on his dad's computer."
Robin and Harry eyed each other with unease. They knew Roy couldn't be awarded Father of The Year, but it never seemed to be this severe. Everyone has their faults, but let your own child watch adult videos and not even try to cover it up a little is... Too much.
Harry spoke up first, after an awkward silence. "Okay guys, listen. Thanks for telling us, we're gonna talk to him about it."
"And about the making babies stuff... You two don't need to know." Robin concluded, waving them off. "Go hunt someone for sport, or whatever."
They did as they were told, walking outside and patiently watching the street for someone who might follow the two of them into the dense forest behind the house.
"... You think we should've told them?" Robin reluctantly asked.
"Oh sure, go ahead, explain the birds and the bees to contemporaneous sex symbol Angelo Turchino. It'd be funny."
"It's not like he knows!"
"He knows he's Angelo. He's gotta know something. Same with Paige."
Tony glanced over to the window. "Are they still talking about it?"
"Mhm."

Chapter Text

"What are you doing?"
Sketch was looking into the game room, hiding her body behind the door and only sticking her head in.
She turns around to face Tony. "Shh, he's asleep!" She whispers, and quickly peeks into the room again.
"Who's asleep?" Tony asks, leaning over her to also take a look.
On a previously unoccupied table laid a lanky, blonde man, thick square framed glasses still on his head as he slept next to a laptop.
"Oh, that must be the new guy."
"Mhm, I can't wait for him to wake up!" Sketch exclaimed, nearly speaking too loud. "He seems like a real smart guy..."
"We can talk to him after his lesson. Come on, now, before you wake him up." Tony replies, bringing her by the hand. "There's a nice wind blowing outside, we could stay at the garden."
"Oh, sure! I've been wanting to see the flowers!"
While this, the trio of students sat in the living room, unaware of their new housemate.
Harry lazily eyed the two figures in the distance, amidst the flowers in their garden. "Hey."
"Hm?" Robin hummed.
"Do you think Tony's ever gonna tell her?"
"That he likes her? Ha, doubt it. He's too much of a coward."
"Oh, come on. I believe in him."
"He said he bought special flowers for her," Manny babbled. "And, and he's been growing them in- on the garden for her."
"Aww, see? I think he might tell her now." Harry spoke, narrowing his eyes to try and see the two better.
"Don't get your hopes up." Robin grumbled. "Besides, Sketch is pretty stupid. He could glue a note to his forehead saying 'I love you' and she wouldn't get it."
"She's not stupid and you know it. She's just not looking out for it, I think. What do you want her to do, guess?"
Back at the garden, the pair laid down on the soft grass, amidst flower vases and the rose vines creeping upwards on their supports.
Tony looks to his side, ready to say something about that butterfly that flew by, but he quickly shut his mouth.
Sketch had closed her eyes, her chest calmly rising up and down. Had she fallen asleep?
He reached for the red salvias, picking one off its stem. He then gently tucked it behind her ear, adjusting her hair so it'd stay in its place.
That's when her eyes opened, looking at him suddenly.
"What'cha doing?" She asked.
"Just fixing your hair, is all. I thought you were asleep."
"No, I just had my eyes closed." Sketch smiles, messing with her hair and eventually finding the flower hidden under it.
She takes it off her hair and holds it in her hand. "Oh, a flower! So romantic, aren't you?"
"Ah, no, I- I didn't mean it like that." Tony stammered.
"I know, silly." She laughs.
She then leans over and kisses Tony on the cheek, her black lipstick staining his skin. His arrows now point at 3:45, his eyes are wide, and she giggles.
"You're so cute, Tony."
"Ah, um... Thank you." He quietly replies.
Sketch gets up on her feet, ready to go back inside. "Anyways, I wanna replant this pretty flower before it dies. See you soon!"
"... See ya." He mutters, dumbfounded.
He stays in the same place, staring up at the sky, wondering what just happened.
Something in him says that Angelo is ecstatic about it, so much he gets a sudden urge to jump up and down and laugh like a madman. He elects not to do that.
Eventually, he decides that certain things about Sketch simply have no explanation, and so he gets up on his feet and heads back inside.
"Good evening, you three." Tony casually greets.
"Hello!"
"Good evening!"
"Sup, man. What's that on your face?"
Tony raises an eyebrow. "What's on my face?"
"There's a, um, smudge stain on your face." Manny says, indiscreetly pointing at him. "Right on there!"
"I think it's charcoal, you were messing with charcoal out there and didn't invite any of us!"
"Guys, no. Look at it." Harry smiled. Surprisingly. "It's a lipstick stain."
Tony's face went from blue to purple in seconds.
"A black lipstick stain."
"Hmm, who do we know that wears black lipstick?" Robin asks, despite already knowing the answer.
"Ooh, I know! It's-"
"No no, let Tony say it." Harry said, shushing the younger of the trio. "Go on, Tony. Whose lipstick is that?"
"It's- actually," He shakes his head, glaring at the three. "Who are you to ask me questions about my life? You're not entitled to know! Such disrespect!" He raises his voice, the potted plant near the door already wilting. "Now out of my sight, you three, before I rot your guts out again!"
The trio hurries down the corridor, although giggling and whispering. Tony only huffs, crossing his arms and shaking his head in disapproval.
"Whoa, what happened? Why did everyone run away? Did the kitchen spontaneously combust again?"
Sketch hurries down the stairs and spies at the kitchen door. Seeing nothing unusual, she turns her head back at Tony. "What happened?"
"They were annoying me, so I told them to get out or else I'd rot them alive again."
"You meanie! For that..." She comes close, on the tips of her feet, and rests her arms on his shoulders.
Tony's face warms up again, and his clock hands twitch nervously over his cheeks.
"I shall take away your hat!" She happily exclaims, snatching his top hat off his head.
"What?" He asked, but by this time, she had already run away with it, her laughter echoing through the house. "Sketch!"
He chased after her, but soon her voice went quiet and he was left clueless.
Soon he found his hat, left abandoned on the stair railing. As he retrieved it, Tony noticed a note inside.
"Shh, the lesson's started!
~ Sketch ;)"
He hummed to himself. Oh well, might as well check it out...
He headed towards the game room, with Sketch already seated at the door. A faint electronic song could be heard as he came closer and took a seat beside Sketch, watching the blinking lights and moving shapes on the computer screen.
After a while, though, something seemed... Odd.
"He's repeating the same line, over and over..." Sketchbook whispered. "I think there's something wrong."
Indeed, Tony concluded, that robotic voice leading the lesson was repeating the same words uninterruptedly. Their students were hypnotized, unmoving and obediently listening to the looping line their new teacher repeated.
"There's definitely something wrong," He whispered. "Do you see that black spot on the wall? That wasn't there before."
He motions to a quadrilateral shape on the wall, so dark it seemed like a chunk of the wall had gone missing. They blinked and it was gone, but a similar black patch had appeared on the floor, also clipping away a corner of the rug.
Soon more and more of these appeared, and it wasn't long before books flew from their shelves and furniture started clipping into each other.
"Oh no..." Sketch muttered, horrified, and Tony couldn't agree more.
They watched as Harry walked towards a door that didn't exist before.
The music, the chaos, everything stops as he opens the door and looks in.
"Wait, what?"
A balloon pops, confetti flies out and Harry's body hits the floor.
His head isn't there anymore.
Sketchbook muffles a scream with her hands and turns to hide her face in Tony's chest, who holds her close as if to shield her from any possible danger.
Harry's body soon disappears, and the room returns to normal. The teacher seemed to have passed out, but the students were still in their trance, merely blinking.
"Is everything okay now?" Sketch asks, still not looking.
"Harry's gone," Tony replies, slowly letting her go. "But everyone else seems to be fine."
"Should we do something?"
Tony analyzes the scene before answering. "The lesson seems to be over. I can deal with those two, you can move the new teacher to the living room."
They do as planned, with Sketch dragging the new teacher out to the living room, while Tony sat on the table and began to speak to the students in a calm, suave tone.
Eventually Sketch returns, watching in silence as Tony explains to his students, in a soft and soothing voice, how they'll wake up at the sound of his fingers snapping.
He snaps his fingers, and the duo rapidly blinks into consciousness.
"Mister Tony, what happened?" Manny asks, looking around the now wrecked game room.
"Today's lesson didn't go as planned." He ruffles the child's hair. "But Sketch and I are taking care of this now, alright? You two should rest for now."
"This is ridiculous!" Robin squawked. "We can't have a minute of peace because of you guys, and more people keep coming, it's like a hotel in- Wait... The two of us?" He looked around before slamming his hands on the table, nearly hitting Tony's leg in the process. "Where's Harry?!"
"We can talk about that later."
"But I want to know now! Where is he, you stupid clock?!"
"I said I'll tell you later! Now leave!"
"You can't tell me what to do!"
"Boys! Stop yelling!" Sketch interjects, rendering the room silent. "Come on, all of you, it's better if we leave the room. And please don't fight, we'll explain what happened to Harry later."
As they headed to the kitchen, with Sketch giving the students a quick explanation as to why the games room suddenly messed itself up, Tony heard a whisper coming from the wall.
He shook his head, maybe it was nothing.
"Tony! I know you heard me, man." It whispered again. The voice isn't of anyone he knows, but it still sounds eerily familiar.
He looks to the side. A framed mirror is hanging on the wall, slightly dusty but otherwise in prime shape.
There was only one issue: his reflection didn't look like him. They were similar: the shape of their jaws, their round noses and big eyes seemed identical. But whilst Tony's skin is a rich blue, his reflection had a bronze-like color, except less... Metallic. His arrows and markings were also gone, but Tony could still feel his own arrows resting over his face. How come his reflection wasn't a clock?
The reflection adjusted his windbreaker jacket before speaking. "So, um, I know this is really weird-"
"It is quite strange, yes."
"But don't call anyone, because you're technically tripping balls right now. But I'm real, I promise. Anyways,"
"Wait, hold on." Tony shook his head. "Could you explain what 'tripping balls' is meant to be?"
"Oh, sorry," his reflection chuckled. "Thou art hallucinating, monsieur."
"Hallucinating? You are so funny." Tony deadpanned.
"I know, Paige told me so." He smiled. "Like, a week before we got kidnapped and turned into you and your girlfriend, but I think it's still valid."
"Sketchbook is not my girlfriend, and you... Are..."
"Yeah, Angelo Turchino, pleasure to meet you! You know, the body you're using right now? That's me, you're welcome for the abs and everything."
"I'm using... Your body, is what you're saying?"
"Yes, and I'd kinda like to have it back, you know? But that's for later. All in its time, right?"
"Indeed."
"Well, what we truly need to figure out now, Tony, is how to get out of here."
"Here? Like, out of the house?"
"Tony?" Sketchbook suddenly called from the end of the hallway. "What are you doing? It's nearly time for dinner."
"Oh, it's nothing. I'll be with you in a second, alright?"
"... Alright." She nods, retreating to the kitchen.
"Aww, she misses you. So cute." His reflection spoke again.
"Oh, stop it, she just called me for dinner!" He swats at the glass. "And I should be going soon, so goodbye for now, Angelo."
"Ah, before you go!"
"Yes?"
Angelo's playful glint dimmed as he leaned one hand against the glass. "Could you tell Paige I miss her?"
"Of course. Goodbye, Angelo."
"Bye, Tony."
He waits until Tony was far away to yell one more thing from across the hall, knowing he'd be the only one to hear it.
"So, you gonna try for that second kiss or not?"
"Shut up!"

Chapter Text

The two teachers were seated at the kitchen table, long after their two students were finally convinced to not ask any more questions and go to bed.
"I mean, are we sure he's gone?" Sketch suggests, before taking a sip of her strawberry milk. "Maybe he'll come around tomorrow."
"But what if he doesn't, Sketch? What do we tell them then?" Tony replies, and Sketch recognizes that strange tone of voice.
"Oh no, Tony, please don't cry! It'll be alright, we'll figure it out." She reaches out to him, bringing him closer and nestling his head on her shoulder, letting him sob to his heart's content as she pushed his own strawberry milk carton away. That was enough for the night, she decided.
"Come on, darling, let's think of nicer things." She cooed, playing with his raven hair. "How about that new teacher we got? Maybe we should check on him."
His response came as an incomprehensible mumble against her shoulder.
"What was that, Tony?"
He hiccuped before speaking. "You've never called me darling before..."
She chuckled. "I guess I haven't."
"I like you a lot, Sketch."
"Aww, I like you too."
They stayed like that for a moment, sitting together in comfortable silence, broken by nothing besides Tony's steadying breaths.
"Excuse me," a robotic voice called from the kitchen door. "Could you tell me where I am?"
"Hm?" Sketch lifts her head to the silhouette at the door. "Oh, hey! You're awake!"
Tony peeks from his spot on Sketch's shoulder at the newest teacher, who now awkwardly stood in the doorway.
"You're in the house! There's... Not really a name for this place, it's just the house." Sketch rambles, one of her hands ruffling Tony's hair as she spoke. "There's probably a room for you upstairs. You'll know it when you see it. We'll be with you in just a moment, alright?"
"Alright! I'll be waiting in the living room!" The new teacher exclaims, happily walking back to the living room.
"Come on, Tony," Sketch whispers. "Let's show him around, hm?"
Tony gets up on his feet, with very little enthusiasm, and the two head to the living room.
As the three walk around the house, small talk ensues.
"So, what's your name?"
"My name is Colin, Colin the Computer! What are your names?"
"I'm Sketchbook, and this is Tony. He's a bit... Woozy right now, but that doesn't matter."
Colin chuckles. "That's alright!"
Tony furrows his eyebrows, glaring at Sketch. "I'm fine. Just a bit... Sleepy."
"Mhm. When we get upstairs, I'll leave you in your room and Colin and I can finish the tour, alright?"
"No. I'm staying with you." He grumbled.
"Alright then."
"Give me your hand."
"What'cha want it for?" Sketch questions, but offers her hand regardless.
Tony holds her hand in his, and resumes walking in complete silence.
"Oh, okay."
"Is Tony your significant other, Sketchbook?"
Sketchbook's eyes widen at the question, but she swats it away with a laugh. "Oh, no! We're very close friends, that's it!"
"Yes... Just close friends. Why do you want to know, Colin?"
"Well, typically, people who are in a romantic relationship like holding hands! But in some cases, people who are close friends also like to hold hands, such as you!" Colin explained, excited to share his knowledge.
"That's right! Oh, I think that's your door right there." Sketch points over to a beige door, with a pixelated, multicolored decor. "That's right beside mine! So if you need anything, you can knock on that colorful door over there."
"Wow! My door looks very nice!" Colin beams, clapping. "And I like yours too, Sketchbook! It looks like watercolour!"
"Oh, you noticed! Nobody ever points that out. I'm glad you like it! Anyways, I'm gonna take Tony to his room and I'll be going to bed soon, so..."
"Alright, I'll be seeing you tomorrow!" Colin waves, entering his room. "Good night!"
The door closes, and Sketchbook looks over to her best friend. "Alright Tony, I'll see you... What's with that face?"
Tony's eyebrows were contorted downwards, and his eyes wouldn't meet hers. "It's nothing. I'm just tired."
"Oh, alright. Time for you to go to bed then!" She pulls him by the hand to his own door, which is very intricately carved and decorated with tiny cogs and gears. "See ya tomorrow, Tony."
"Wait, before you go... Can I have a hug?"
"Of course! Come here, you."
She feels his arms wrap around her and makes herself cozy in that embrace that always felt a little too big for her, like an oversized, warm coat that smelled of lemons and scented wood. Her own arms aren't as long and don't reach as far, but Tony would be the first to say how she gave better hugs than anyone else. It felt like a safe embrace, a soft escape from all his worries and stressfulness. Sketch just had the ability to make his problems dissipate, and he could never thank her enough.
"By the way," he whispers in her ear. "Angelo says he misses Paige."
"Oh, Paige misses him too. She misses his laugh, and his stupid jokes. But that doesn't matter right now." She holds him tighter. "What matters right now is us. Are you sure you're alright?"
He lets go, and looks at her, at his best friend.
She looks so pretty tonight, and yet she looks like this every night. In fact, she looks like this every day, ever since they met. How come he only noticed it now?
Maybe something changed.
Almost impulsively so, he leans over and presses his lips against hers, borrowing some of her lipstick. It lasted less than a second, it could barely be called a kiss, but the room felt warm, his gears sped up and he thought he could die.
He might've died when her hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him away.
She chuckled with no humour in her voice. "Um, I... I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright?"
"Sketch, listen... I'm sorry, I don't know why I-"
"I said tomorrow!"
Tony never shut his mouth so fast in his life, but that's a small sample of Sketch's power.
Perhaps it's best not to pester her anymore. "Of course. Good night, Sketch."
She closed the door in near total silence. But when there was a slight opening, barely a sliver, she spoke.
"Good night, love."
Sketch walked with slow, calm steps to her room, and closed the door behind her with little energy. As soon as the lock clicked shut, though, she scrambled to her full body mirror, falling to her knees.
"Paige! Paige, I need to talk to you!" She whispered, despair choking her voice as it left her throat. "I messed up. I messed up so bad, how could I-"
In her anxiety, she failed to notice the changing reflection in the mirror.
"Sketchbook, honey, what happened? Talk to me." Paige spoke with growing worry, pressing her hands against the glass.
"Tony kissed me!" She sobbed, hiding her face in her hands.
"I thought you liked him."
"I do..."
"Then what's the problem? Was it not the right mood?"
"It was, and he was really cute, but..." She hiccuped. "But I got nervous and... And I ruined everything!"
Paige's expression softens, her lips allowing a shy smile to be seen. "Oh, dear, don't say that. Why do you think you ruined everything?"
"Because I got nervous and pushed him away!" She cried out, leaning against the cold glass of the mirror.
"Sketch, let's think for a second. Do you really think your best friend won't notice when you're nervous? And do you think he'd shame you for being nervous?"
She breathed in, wiping away the tears. "... No. Tony has always been nice to me."
"Exactly! So why would that change now? He cares about you, and he might even think that it's his fault you were so nervous. So, all you gotta do is be honest. Tell him you were nervous and that you wish you had acted different. If it's meant to be, he'll understand."
"You're right. I'll talk to him tomorrow, and explain everything." She wipes away her tears. "And everything's gonna be fine."
"That's my girl!" Paige claps, smiling.
Sketchbook, however, only stares at the mirror with an eyebrow raised.
"Oh, right. Not a girl anymore. I'm sorry, Sketch. Have you figured that out yet?"
"Not really... But I have a new friend who is very smart, he's a computer! He probably knows what this is called."
"That's great! Lots of things to do tomorrow, then."
"Mhm. Good night, Paige."
"Good night, Sketch."

Chapter Text

"Wake up!" Robin exclaimed, pushing Manny's shoulder. "We have to eat breakfast!"
"Uh? Oh, right. Breakfast." He mumbled, slowly getting ready for the day.
As soon as they were both ready, the two remaining students headed to the kitchen. When they got there, though, someone was already there.
Tony sat at the table, a cup of coffee tightly clutched in his hands and a thousand yard stare that seemed to phase through the wall.
"What happened, mister Tony?" Manny asks.
"Yeah," adds Robin. "Why do you look so weird, like you've seen a ghost?"
"... Nothing." He whispers, unmoving.
"Okay then. Move over, I like to sit there."
"No, something's wrong!" Manny retorted, crossing his arms. "And you won't tell us!"
"Fine!" He growls, slamming down the striped mug on the table. "Since you need to know so much, I'll tell you: I tried to be Sketch's boyfriend, and now she might not even want me as a friend! Is that what you wanted to hear?"
While Manny shrunk his shoulders and fiddled with his fingers, regretting his words, Robin only squawked, laughing almost exaggeratedly so. "You two are so dumb! I'm glad I don't like anyone."
"But you said-"
"Shut up!"
"Aw."
After a few more seconds of blank staring, Tony lifted his head with a confused, yet somewhat vacant expression. "Shouldn't Sketch be up by now?"
"Ooh, I could go check on her!" Manny said, raising his hand.
"Please do."
Robin huffs, crossing his arms as Manny rushes upstairs. "She's probably oversleeping, like she always does. You didn't wake her up today, did you?"
"I don't think she wants me in her room now. But she's so used to it, she should wake up around the same time anyways..."
Robin opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Manny's loud, quick steps.
"Why are you in such a rush? It's rude to run indoors!"
"Miss Sketchbook isn't in her room, and her bed isn't messy. Maybe she ran away." He mumbles, looking at the two adults seeking for guidance.
Tony stands up so mechanically that his chair nearly topples over. "Sketch never makes her bed. Something's wrong."
"Yes, she decided to leave because of how lame you are!"
But Sketch never wanted to leave.
She was taken away.
She woke up to a dark, empty room, and a presence looming over her from somewhere unknown. The smell of a precarious building bothered her senses as she quickly realized she wasn't home.
"Good morning, Sketchbook."
"Good morning." She spoke, her voice shy and barely audible.
"Do you know why you're here today?"
She shakes her head no.
The voice sighs. "I'll be glad to explain. Sketchbook, something interesting happened last night, huh?"
She stutters, playing with her hair. "Oh- um, yes."
"Sketch, I'm only telling you this because I care about you, and because I don't want you to be hurt later on." The voice spoke, raking its thin fingers through Sketch's colorful hair. "But maybe you should think twice about your little crush. He's not what he seems to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Tony has certain... Tendencies that I'd like to protect you from. You see, he's very promiscuous. Just one person won't satisfy him. In fact, he'll go after as many as he can get. I know this because I made him, just like I made you. It's a flaw of his that I never got to get rid of, unfortunately."
"That doesn't make sense. He barely even likes other people!"
"Oh, Sketchbook, I know what it looks like. He only has eyes for you! Adorable, but that's a lie. Don't you ever wonder what exactly he does when he leaves the house for hours? Or do you think he's just walking around aimlessly? He's seeing other people, obviously. It's just who he is, I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
"You're lying to me!" She exclaimed, stomping her foot on the cold concrete floor. "He's not like that, you're-"
The skeletal hands suddenly grip at her neck, pinning her against one of the filthy walls and cutting off her oxygen supply. "Listen here, you broken little bitch, I do everything for you! I gave you a house, friends, and everything you could think of, and you call me a liar?" She claws at the fingers clasped around her neck, struggling to breathe with no success. "I'm your owner, and I'm trying to do what's best for you! But if you wanna be just another girl for that man whore to play with, then go ahead. I won't stop you."
She's roughly let go and falls to her knees, with tears in her eyes and gasping for air. She tries to say something, but chokes in her own words.
"What was that?"
"... I'm sorry, sir."
"You better be. Come on, I'll take you back to the house."
Sketchbook walks into the kitchen, her head cast downwards in shame.
"Sketchbook!" Tony called, his mood flipping like a switch as soon as he sees her. "Where have you been? I was so worried!"
He hurries towards her in an uncharacteristically excited manner, but she doesn't look up much higher than the last button of his jacket.
"... What happened? Are you upset? If it's about yesterday, I'd like to talk about it."
"Leave me alone, Tony." She speaks, almost in a whisper. "I need to think."
And she leaves just like she came in, with quiet steps and a downward gaze.
Tony turns to the remaining students with big, watery eyes and a trembling voice. "What have I done..?"
While this, Sketchbook sat in front of her mirror, watching with tired eyes as Paige faded into view.
"Sketch, darling, what's up with that face?"
"Paige, my owner said some really mean things about Tony, and I don't know what to think." She sniffles, wiping her tears away. "He said he'd date a bunch of people behind my back, and that I'm not special to him..."
"Oh dear, Sketchbook! Don't tell me you believe that man's words."
"I don't know... Should I?"
"Not at all! He lies, and he lies about anything he can. But that's a lie I've heard before." She sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. "Poor Angie..."
"He said that about Angelo too?"
Paige nods. "Yes, and I'm not quite sure why. I think he just enjoys bringing people down. Angelo had some struggles with his image, and he thought being Tony would save him from that. Tony might be a looker, but he's innocent, like you."
"We're not innocent!" Sketch interjects. "We killed a bunch of people! More than once!"
Paige chuckles. "I know, Sketch. As I was saying... Angelo took Tony's role and he was really happy with it, he loves Tony like a son. But for some reason, that man loved to rub it in how nobody could ever see him as innocent. How people will always look at him and think other things. And that really hurt Angelo, you know."
"... Do you think it hurts Tony too?"
"Oh, for sure. Even if he doesn't understand it the way Angelo does, it's gotta hurt."
Sketchbook gets up on her feet, dusting off her skirt. "Then maybe I should talk to him."
She heads over to Tony's room, the house too silent and lonely without someone by her side.
She tries to open the door, but it's locked. Strange... She knocks. "Tony? I wanna talk to you. Are you there?"
"... Yes." The voice barely sounded like his own, hoarse and tired.
Soon the door unlocks, and Tony stands on the other side, as sad and exhausted as he's ever been. It was noticeable he'd been crying, and clearly hadn't been taking great care of himself. His hair looked messy and unkempt, dark bags formed under his eyes, and even his suit jacket seemed wrinkled.
"Oh goodness, Tony, what happened?" She asks, reaching for his face and caressing his hour hand with her thumb.
He leans into her touch, relaxing for a moment. Soon he pulls away, though. "Please, come in."
She does as asked, and takes her usual seat at the end of his bed. He sits close to her, though he used to sit closer.
"So, what did you want to talk about again?"
"Well... There's a few things. But mainly, about what happened yesterday night."
"Sketchbook, I'm sorry, I really am. I wish I hadn't done that, I can see it bothered you-"
"No, no," She rests her hand over his. "I... Liked it, really. I was just nervous and didn't know what to say. I'm sorry for making this all so confusing."
His eyes began to shine as he heard her speak, his face and posture changing immediately. "You liked it?"
She nods, blush sprouting fast across her face.
"Well, um... I'm glad you liked it?" He sighs, laughing awkwardly. "Wow, talking about this really is difficult, I don't blame you. But just know I'm really happy that you enjoyed it. Because I enjoyed it too."
The following silence felt calm and comfortable, if only a bit awkward. They couldn't look at each other without giggling, yet they couldn't look away.
Sketch leaned closer with a playful smile. "Hey."
"Yes?"
"Wanna do it again?" She whispered, watching in amusement as Tony's face went from navy blue to purple, his arrows forming a straight line across his face.
"Sure."
Before they could go any further, someone knocks on the door.
"These people always pick the worst times." Tony huffs, getting up and walking to the door.
As the door opens, Tony finds Colin standing on the other side, fidgeting with his fingers and nervously glancing down the hall.
"Hello! I'm sorry to bother, but my room is currently occupied by a giant insect preaching about romantic relationships. I wasn't sure what to do, so I snuck out to call you guys."
"Ugh, can't he give us a break?" Sketch complains from her spot on the bed. "His name is Shrignold, and he does that a lot. Lucky for you, he's already paired me up with Tony and there's no other girls around for him to push towards you, so he probably won't be that annoying."
Sketchbook grabs her lucky pencil from its holster and presses on the eraser tip. It extends up to the length of her legs, like a spear with a sharp graphite blade. "Tony, get your stuff. We're teaching the newbie how to have fun today."
After hours of screams and pleads for mercy, strategic torturing and dying the floorboards red, the three now tower over the preacher's mangled corpse.
"Well, what now?"
"Oh, don't worry. The house cleans itself every half an hour." Sketchbook kneels down, picking up the body with worrying ease. "Let's put him somewhere fun."
"Ooh, put him in the woods!" Tony chuckled. "So deep in that he can't see the sky. He'll be lost in there for hours!"
"Great idea!"

Chapter Text

"You need to stop doing that." Angelo spoke through the bathroom mirror, his icy blue eyes piercing Tony's soul.
Tony lowered his head, focusing instead on getting rid of the dried blood that encrusted the underside of his forearms. "It was just a bad moment. I got nervous and... I guess I just wanted to escape from myself. But I don't do this everyday, Angelo, I'm fine."
"No, you're not! You shouldn't do this ever, Tony, and you know that!" He didn't raise his voice, but his tone became much more energetic. "What would Sketch say?"
"Don't bring Sketchbook into this."
"Yes I will! Because she worries about you, she really does. You're gonna let her down like that?"
"She doesn't need to know." He mutters, watching the clear water get a rusty red tint as it splashes against the white ceramic sink.
"She already knows! And she wants you to stop, and you know that!"
"Fine!" He huffs, slamming his hands on the sides of the sink. "This is my last time, then! I'll stop forever!"
"That's better! Sketch is gonna keep you in check too, don't try to be sneaky."
"Yes, sir." He sighs, turning off the faucet. As he wraps his arms in gauze, from his elbows to his wrists, Tony lifts his head to the mirror again. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"You and Paige didn't live here, right? You guys come from... Somewhere else, I'm not sure where."
"Yeah, we didn't live in the studio. We actually lived pretty close, she lived in this apartment building-"
"What was it like?" He asks, finishing his bandages with an undecipherable stare. "The outside."
"Ah, clocky, it was... Alright. We live in a busy city, there's tons of people and hundreds of places to go. There's something for everyone. Not everyone goes to sleep at night, there's bars and clubs for everyone who wants to party until sunrise."
"But the people outside... They don't look like us, right?" Tony hesitantly asked. "They look like you and Paige."
"Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"... If we get out of here," He leans closer to the mirror, fogging up the glass with his breath. "Will those people find me strange because I'm a clock?"
Angelo sighs. "They'll think you're me, Tony. They'll scrub the blue off your face and take away your arrows. And then they'll be mean to you for the same reason they were mean to me."
"Why were they mean to you? You didn't stand out that much, did you?"
"I didn't. The reason some people hated me was... Well, I can't say it's not my fault." He chuckles, but that laugh carries weight with it. "But it's not important. Maybe you should go, your girlfriend might get worried about you."
"Right. Goodbye, Angelo."
"Bye, Tony."
Tony rolls down his sleeves and walks out of the bathroom, heading for Sketchbook's room.
"Sketch? Can I come in?"
She opens the door, although she seems rather... Hesitant. "Sure, you... You can always come in, you don't need to ask."
He walks in with an eyebrow raised. "You don't sound alright, dear."
"Oh, it's nothing, I was just talking to Paige, and... I needed to ask you something. It's important."
She sits down on the carpet, and motions for him to sit as well. He sits down with his legs crossed, and takes her hand in his. "Go ahead."
She messes with the hem of her skirt before speaking.
"Would you still like me if I... Wasn't a girl?"
Tony tilts his head to the side, his minute arrow lifting at the unusual question. "If you were a boy, you mean?"
"No, it's like... Not a boy or a girl. Just... Something in between. Or not related to either at all." One of her hands moves to her hair, twirling a bright blue lock around her finger.
"Well, Sketch, would that change anything about who you are?"
"I mean... I'd rather be called 'they' instead of 'she', but I think that's it." She readjusts her skirt over her thighs. "Maybe get some pants, too..."
"Then nothing of what I love about you will change. Why would I stop liking you if you're still the same Sketch I fell in love with?"
Sketch's eyes filled with tears, and she-
No,
They felt like the world finally knew who Sketchbook truly was. They wrapped their arms around Tony's waist, hugging him as tight as they could.
"Tony, you're the best." They whispered, their voice already strained by their tears.
"Oh no, Sketch, I'm only a clock. You are something marvelous."
They laughed, and swatted at his shoulder. "Quit being so sappy."
"Hey, I worked really hard on that line!"
However, someone else was peeking in, eavesdropping on their conversation through something so small and well hidden that it'd never be found.
"Sir, how long will we have to watch this sickening display of affection?"
"Not for long, Colin. I already know all I needed to know." The older man paced, grimacing at the screen. "So she decided to disobey me, after all. She chose that pretty little whore over her own maker. Promise me you'll never do such a thing."
"I wouldn't be so foolish, sir."
"I hope not. Now, switch over to the living room, I wonder what those other two are doing."
The screen flickers before showing the image of the house's living room, with Robin doing crosswords on his rocking chair and Manny laid down on the floor, scribbling on a piece of paper with crayons.
"Good, seems like the rest of them know their place. Well, if I can't convince that dumb little girl... Perhaps her sweetheart might be more agreeable."
"You will be talking to Tony, then?"
"Oh no. With people his type, talking just won't cut it. You gotta really drive the point home."
"I see. Well, sir, could I get some rest for the day?"
"Of course. You're my most useful creation after all. A great brain like yours needs rest."
As the spotlight sun sets in the fake landscape that stretched for miles outside their windows, the house's residents fall asleep one by one. The stars faded in, like tiny Christmas lights stretched across the dark velvet sky. The moon shone brightly that night, bathing the house in silver tones.
It was late, late enough for nobody to notice Sketch's body lifting from the bed and wandering downstairs. The usual happy steps were replaced by careful stalking, nearly silent on the dark house lit only by the moonlight peering from the windows.
Reaching the kitchen, a hand absentmindedly flips on the light switch.
Robin was already there, halfway through raiding the fridge. He gawks, hugging his chosen foods and kicking the fridge door closed. "Sketchbook! What are you doing awake? Don't you know how late it is? You should be asleep!"
"It's the only time I can come out, Robin. Sketchbook is still asleep."
Robin felt his hairs rise at that sentence. Beyond the cryptic sentence, Sketch's voice sounded... Wrong. It was too low, too mature, like it no longer belonged to a children's character.
Like it belonged to a grown adult.
"... Paige? Is that you?"
"Indeed, Robin. But don't tell anyone." She whispers. "I just wanted to come down for a drink, maybe go out to the balcony. Care to join me?"
"Sure."
Time flies by the two like the midnight breeze that ruffles their hair as they talked, with Robin filling her in on what she missed while Sketch was out and about.
"And Harry's... Gone, huh?" She somberly mentions. "Sketch told me his head blew up and he never came back. Must be quite difficult for the two of you."
"He's gone from this place, you mean." Robin chuckled. "He calls, sometimes. Says he's trying to break us out."
"I wish him good luck." Paige laughs, taking another sip of her pineapple juice box. "I wish we could get out from the inside, like he did. But Sketch definitely won't want to leave."
Robin furrowed his eyebrows in thought, eyes wandering before his eyes lift back to Paige. He found it curious how she held her juice box the same way she used to hold her cigarettes.
"Paige... If you're, well, Paige, then who's Sketchbook?"
"I don't think I understand."
"I thought Roy had like, brainwashed you to believe you were Sketchbook. Same with Angelo and everyone else. But if you're here, knowing who you are, then who's acting like Sketch in the daytime? Are you just pretending?"
"Oh, that. Well, he did try brainwashing us... No, I don't think that's the right word. Maybe... Mentally confusing us to be unsure of who we are. Then everything fades to black, and suddenly I look like this." She chuckles, messing with a pink strand of her hair. "But that's not all. He's got these chips on the back of our necks... I think that's what makes me act like Sketch. It just takes over my body, and there's nothing much I can do except talk to Sketch in their own head. I couldn't even do that at first, it felt like I was asleep. I don't know what happened, maybe some glitch in the system, but I'm here now."
"Mind control chips? That's interesting... Do you think we could pry it off you?" Robin offers.
"Well, it's... Under my skin, so I'd rather not." She nervously laughs. "Besides, you can call me crazy for that, but I don't wanna... Kill Sketchbook."
Robin eyes her, incredulous, and scoffs.
"Don't laugh at me, I got attached, okay? They're like my kid now."
"Yeah, I'll call you crazy for that."
"That's fair."
The nightly silence of the house is interrupted by a loud thud.
The two twist their heads to the glass doors of the balcony, barely distinguishing the body laid down at the other end of the corridor.
Paige springs up to her feet, rushing across the corridor with Robin following her closely. They tower over the body, trying to make out its identity in the dark, but it doesn't take too long for them to realize.
"Oh, it's Tony! Is he breathing?" Paige asks, touching his bare back with the tips of her fingers. "He's quite warm, too."
She pulls her hand away, only to feel the tips of her fingers becoming damp and sticky. Right after that, the smell of copper hits her.
"Robin, he's bleeding." She whispers.
"I'll get our first aid kit." Robin replies, rushing downstairs.
"... Sketch?" He mumbles, weakly raising a hand towards her.
Paige lowers his hand. "Not quite, Tony. Don't move too much, just close your eyes and breathe deep breaths. Take your time."
He slowly lies down on his stomach, hiding his face in his crossed arms. "What do you mean... Not quite?"
"It's Paige, Tony. Hi, nice to meet you."
"Hi, Paige... Where's Sketch?"
"Asleep. I'll give them back to you in the morning."
"Mhm..." He mumbles, trying to make himself more comfortable on the hardwood floors. However, any slight change in his position would irritate the wounds on his back.
"Shh, don't move much." She ushered. Robin returns, handing her cotton balls and a strong smelling liquid with no written label, but it seemed to be a disinfectant. She dampens the cotton with the liquid. "Tony, this is gonna hurt. But I'm doing this to help you, okay? Breathe in."
He does as he's asked, and Paige starts to work on his wounds. She drags the cotton along the sharp cuts on his back, and he hisses. Paige caresses his shoulder as she cleans the deeper wounds, careful not to stay in one spot for too long.
"Alright Tony, I think we're done cleaning. Now we just need to bandage you up and then you're good to go."
"Is it going to hurt as much as this?"
"Well, it shouldn't."
"What's all this ruckus about?" A voice called from the opposite end of the corridor. They all lifted their heads, with Tony immediately regretting it and laying back down.
"Colin," Paige called out in a loud whisper. "Tony's hurt."
"Oh! May I help you?" He rushes closer, worry etched in his face.
"Sure, I'll just finish bandaging him and then you could help him to his room." She says, tying the last piece of gauze tight in place. "Tony, does that sound alright?"
"Sure..." He sighed, carefully lifting himself up with Paige by his side. Colin quickly swings Tony's arm over his shoulder, ready to go.
"Alright, good night Tony." Paige whispered, her thumb caressing his cheek. "If you need anything, call us."
"Mhm. Good night, Sketch... And Robin."
"Good night, Tony."
And with that, Paige and Robin both went down to the kitchen to leave the medical supplies back in their place. While this, Tony and Colin took slow steps through the corridor.
Tony's scowl was evident, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at the floor.
"What's wrong, Tony?" Colin cheerily asks. "Upset because you were punished?"
"One day you'll be in my place, Colin. You'll know what I know, and then you'll see who that guy really is."
"He's our owner, Tony, and you shouldn't have disobeyed him if you didn't wanna get punished. And I won't be in your place, wanna know why?"
Despite not having an answer, he continues. "Because I'm the smartest one here. I'm smart enough not to disobey because of silly things like 'love'. I know better than all of you."
"How could you just watch while he did that to me?"
"Oh, Tony, I've been watching for a long time. Trust me, you deserved it."
They finally reach the door. Despite the stinging pain, Tony lets go and walks into the room on his own, barring Colin with the door.
"Oh well, good night Tony!"
"Sleep with the fishes, Colin."

Chapter Text

Sketch's morning starts as it usually does: a gentle nudge on their shoulder, bringing them to open their eyes.
"Good morning, Sketch." The blurry silhouette over their bed spoke, slowly coming into clear view.
"Good morning, Tony." They whispered, raising an arm towards him.
Today, though, Tony moved away.
"Oh no, Sketch, no hug today." He spoke, stepping to the side for them to get up.
Sketch looks at him with worry, their hands shyly resting on their lap. "Why not?"
"... My back is hurt, so I can't really put any pressure on it." He explained, a little too quickly. "I'm sorry, love."
"No need to apologize! You can go downstairs, I'll meet you there."
He nods, leaving their room and closing the door behind himself. As he makes his way downstairs, Tony's mind wanders.
On one hand, he couldn't leave Sketch. He couldn't just pretend nothing's ever happened, especially now, when things were finally starting to go right for him.
On the other hand, though... He doesn't know how much he can take. Last night, the fact that Paige and Robin were around was a matter of pure luck. And although nothing will kill him permanently, that only guarantees that his torture will be dragged on forever until he complies.
He elected to not think about it right now. However, as he filled his mug with coffee, another thought settled into his mind.
Colin.
He was one of them, wasn't he? A teacher, just like Sketch and himself. And yet, not only did he tell their owner everything, Colin stood by and watched as he was beaten and degraded.
Simply stood by and watched.
Besides, his owner knew a little too much. Things he only confessed to Sketch, feelings he only told Angelo about... And Colin definitely had something to do with it.
"Hello, Tony!"
Tony jolted at the sudden voice, nearly spilling his coffee in the process. "Ah, good morning, Robin."
"So... How's your back?" Robin awkwardly asks, making his own coffee.
Tony holds his mug with both hands, letting the warmth seep through his gloves. "It's healing fine, but it's taking a good while. I might have to change the bandages this afternoon." He muses, looking at his own reflection in the dark liquid.
"... You wanna talk about it? You never told us what happened."
The two sit down. "Our owner. He doesn't want me to be with Sketchbook. I'm not sure why."
"Wait, you and Sketch are a thing now? Since when?"
"Ah, um... A few days. It's pretty recent. But that's not what I'm talking about."
"Right, sorry. Go ahead."
"Well, like I said, Sketch and I are together and our owner doesn't really approve of that. So he... Punished me."
"But why? It's not like you're doing anything wrong!"
"I don't know. But I think he regrets making me." Tony sips his coffee before continuing. "He said I was going to ruin th- her, that I should learn to keep my hands to myself. That I was disgusting and that he knew I just couldn't control myself. I don't even know what half of these things really mean... But Angelo knows, and he won't tell me."
Robin sighs. "Well, I know what it is. We all knew Roy had... Something against Angelo. Or maybe not, maybe he just liked to torment him. But regardless, he kept humiliating Angelo in front of everyone, for no real reason other than he felt like it. I knew, Harry knew, Paige knew. It was really sad to see him walk out of the set dead eyed and saying next to nothing. I won't go into much detail, because that's Angelo's story to tell, but just know it was tough for him."
As Robin spoke, Tony felt something strange and familiar at the same time. A feeling of dread, an uncomfortable weight in the pit of his stomach that forced him to anxiously revise his whole week to look for any mistakes he might've committed. His mind went to yesterday night, and a particular detail set him off.
Paige had seen him shirtless.
He couldn't believe he allowed her to see him half naked. How could he be so careless? Of course, he was hurt, but Paige surely wouldn't stroll around bare chested like he did even if she was hurt. She had some decency, unlike him. What did she think of him after that? What does Robin think of him after that? Oh goodness, he must be pitying him right now.
"Tony? Are you alright?"
What if Sketch finds out he's been parading around with half his clothes off? They'll hate him. They'll hate him for sure. They'll never trust him again. Paige must've told them. They must think he's disgusting, and then they'll leave him. Just like...
"Tony?"
Just like...
Just like who? Who told him all these things? He never thought like this before.
"Tony, what's wrong?" Sketch's soft voice brings him back to present time, although it still felt too audacious to move. Their hand on his shoulder felt too heavy and too tight. The pressure stung the lacerations. He couldn't bear the feeling of Sketch's eyes over him. He thinks he might throw up with an empty stomach, somehow.
"I'm alright." He whispers.
"No you're not, look at you!" They exclaim. "You're crying."
Just then he feels the tears running down his face, and the tightness in his throat. Sketch reaches out to wipe his tears away, but he dodges their hand.
"No no, it's- it's fine, I'll be better soon."
"Tony, you're not fine!" Robin protests from his side of the table. "You're really gonna hide whatever it is from everyone? Even from Sketchbook? Don't you trust her?"
"Sketch doesn't use 'she' and 'her' anymore. It's 'they'."
"Tony, I appreciate the correction, but you're focusing on the wrong things." Sketch says, taking a seat next to him. "And you're doing that so you don't have to talk about yourself."
"And really, if you don't want to tell us, that's fair, but we don't want to see you struggle. We want to help you."
"Whoa, drama this early?" An electronic voice sounds from the doorway. "Classic Tony, huh?"
"Colin, this really isn't the time for jokes." Sketch replied, now placing both hands on Tony's shoulders. It would've been comforting if he weren't so repulsed by the idea of being touched.
He laughs, stealing a piece of toast from Robin's plate. "Anyway,"
"Hey!"
"-We should just chill out! Why's everyone so tense? Maybe we need to go outside for a while."
"Right." Tony muttered, standing up with his now cooling coffee mug. "I'll be in the garden. Please leave me alone for a moment."
Tony simply turns around and leaves for the garden, regardless of Sketch's silent protest. Before he completely turned around, Sketch cast a last look into his eyes. They looked dull and tired.
"There we go, finally some peace and quiet! Didn't you miss that, Sketch?" Colin sighs, smiling venomously.
"No. I miss Tony." They deadpanned.
"Me too," Robin quipped in. "He was much nicer to talk to."
"But you see, friends, that's where you're missing out! Tony is simply too obsolete to keep up with us. That old pile of cogs breaks down every week, and yet you prefer him over the wonders of technology? That's a shame."
"Are you kidding?"
"Not at all!"
While they bantered in the kitchen, Tony sat down amidst the potted flowers in the garden. He couldn't deny that Colin was, at least partially, right. He was quite emotional. Angelo says he is too, and that it's nothing to be ashamed of, but that's difficult to believe when the whole house seems to go out of their way to coddle him during his breakdowns.
His emotions are bothersome, not only to him, but to his friends too. Sketch shouldn't have to defend someone nearly twice their size because he couldn't keep his tears to himself. It just wasn't fair.
He sighs, already resenting the growing feeling of tears pooling in his eyes, and looks at his reflection in his cup of coffee.
Angelo stares back.
"Hey, man."
"Not now, Angelo. I'm not in a good mood right now."
"I know, but this is important. I'll be quick."
Tony sighs. "What is it?"
"I think I know who Colin was."
Tony's eyes widen.
"What? How?"
"There was this one guy, he worked backstage — cameras, I think — and he hated me for some reason."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know. But you know who he liked? Paige. He'd talk her ear off sometimes. Wouldn't leave her alone. It got weird when someone found out he'd been recording Paige when she wasn't looking... To put it lightly."
"What a creep. He should've been put away from her!"
"I agree. And so did everyone else. But he was there the very next day, as if nothing had happened. And it kept happening." Angelo scowls. "His name was Ethan. Ethan McCowell. God, I despise that guy. Can't believe he's here, but I guess he was pals with Roy."
"Still is, by the look of it. Thanks, Angelo. I'll see what I can do about it."
"You're welcome, Tony."
He hurriedly takes his last few sips of coffee before rushing back to the house. This new information had cleansed his soul in a way. He might've been punished unjustly, but now he could mess Colin up. It was just a matter of catching him at the right time.
He grinned as he stepped foot in the house, catching the attention of everyone who currently rested in the living room.
"Hi everybody, I'm very sorry about earlier." He speaks, all smiles as he walks to his spot on the couch, right beside Sketch. "Hello, love."
"Hi, dear..."
They reach for his shoulder tentatively, trying to assess how he currently felt. They seemed confused, if not a little freaked out by his sudden change of humor.
"Worry not, dearest." He whispers, leaning closer to them. "I bring great news."
"Which are?"
"I might know who Colin is."
Their eyes shine at that sentence, and they spring off the couch. "Come with me."
"Leaving so soon?"
"Yes, we have important matters to tend to." Tony replies, smiling all the way. "Robin, why don't you come with us?"
"Oh, sure." He mutters, hopping off his chair.
Colin watches as the three climb up the staircase and enter Sketchbook's room. As soon as the door closes, he presses a button on the tiny device lodged in his left ear. "Yes, boss."
"Colin, I might've overestimated you. Do you remember your goals?"
"Of course I do. Dismantle the happy couple, put those two back in their places, and end the theorizing."
"Very well, and how much of that have you done so far?" His boss's growl crackles through the speaker.
"Well, sir, I will need some time to, um, figure things out." Colin begins to stutter. "B-but I've made some progress! Tony isn't half as confident as he was-"
"You're lying through your teeth, Colin. I can see you, remember? Tony was twirling around five minutes ago, and you want me to believe you've made any progress?"
"Sir-"
"Listen. Go after Sketchbook from now on. She'll be an easier target. I didn't think I'd have to make your job easier than it already is, but fine. I'll help you if you manage to struggle with bringing her down."
"... Yes, sir."

Chapter Text

She sat beside Tony's bed, the room drowned in darkness except for the sliver of light coming from the slightly open door. The night fell silent, if not for the wind whistling outside.
She looks at the window. A storm is coming. Sketch was scared of rough weather, but she'd be alright. She'd dealt with much rougher things.
Her eyes shift back to the bed, to Tony, dead asleep amidst blankets and a near excessive amount of pillows. She crossed her fingers before reaching for his shoulder.
"Angelo..." She whispers, glancing at the door. The corridor seemed empty, but she's learnt that the walls have eyes in this house. Tony stirs, but his eyes remain closed. "Angelo, please..."
She nudges his shoulder, and the sensation of being watched only grows. "Angie..."
His eyes open, just slightly, and he places his own hand on top of hers. "... Sketch?"
Did she do it?
"No, it's-" She glances back at the door. The corridor remains still. "It's Paige."
His eyes widen, and he props himself up on his elbows. "... Shortie?"
She did it. Tears welling up in her eyes, she nods. "Yes."
Angelo lifts her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing, her legs dangling off the edge as he held her tight. "No way, I gotta be dreaming."
"You're not," Paige rests her head on his shoulder. "I'm here."
"I missed you so much..."
"I missed you too."
For a while, they sat still in each other's embrace, feeling the warmth and the slight motion of breathing against their chests.
Paige lets go first, instead resting her hands on his shoulders. "I have something to tell you."
"Is it about that creep down the hall? 'Cause trust me, I know about him already." He scowls.
"Well, kind of. He's been watching us. With cameras. Sketch found one in our room the other day."
"Are you serious?! He's doing this again? Listen, Paige," Angelo leans closer. "Tony and I won't let us him mess with you or Sketch, okay? We got your back."
"I'm glad to hear that. But what I'm really worried about is that there's probably a camera in every corner of the house. I think he's like, Roy's spy or something."
"Oh, got it."
"So, chances are, Roy's gonna protect him. Just like last time."
"Can't we break him?"
"We could, both of us know his name," She nods. "But I'll need him for a moment. He has to know who Shrignold is."
"Why do you even wanna know? I mean, shouldn't we focus on the people we know?"
"Sure, but the more people we break, the more unstable this place becomes. If we want to have any chance of getting out, we have to get everyone on board. Angie, I need your opinion on something."
"What is it?"
"Do you think Colin likes Sketch the same way Ethan liked me?"
He cringes slightly. "I wouldn't say 'like'... I mean, he was obsessed. For all the wrong reasons, too, but I mean... He hates Tony, so I'd say yeah, probably. Why?"
"Sketch might get him to say something. I know it might be risky, but they can defend themself fine."
"It is risky... But I'll make sure Tony's gonna be nearby. Like you said, we need as much information as we can."
Paige made a motion as if she planned to reply, but the sound of steps walking down the hall shut her up. Angelo, as quietly as he could, laid Paige down on the bed next to him, and proceeded to lie down as well.
"Pretend you're asleep." He whispered, and Paige followed his advice, closing her eyes and getting under the covers.
Whoever it was, they did look inside Tony's room for a few minutes before walking away. Once they left, closing the door as they walked away, the two opened their eyes.
"Close call, huh?" Angelo whispered.
"Yeah, I- I should be going to bed..." She whispers back.
"Don't you wanna stay over? I mean, you're already here..."
She sighs. "I'd love to, but I don't wanna make you uncomfortable..."
"Paige, we've been over this before. You don't make me uncomfortable, you're my friend! Besides, if I were uncomfortable I wouldn't offer it to you. Stay if you want to, it's fine!"
"Alright, alright, I'll stay." She giggles. "But I'll stay in my corner."
"Whatever makes you feel better. Good night, shortie."
"Good night, Angie."
It doesn't take long before a cold hand reaches for Angelo's arm and Paige slides closer.
"What happened to your corner?" He mumbles, wrapping his arm around her back.
"It's cold. I'm cold." She leans against his chest and chuckles. "Angelo, what are we?"
"Friends, I think."
"Friends don't sleep together like this."
"I mean, I haven't been minding that stuff ever since Tony took over my body and began dating Sketch."
"That's fair."
The two huddled together and slowly fell asleep, lulled by the rain pouring outside.
Colin stares at the screen with affliction, his eyes trained on the pale figure nested in Tony's arms.
Tony opens his eyes, just enough to look at the sleeping figure in his arms. His usually stern expression softens (as it often does whenever he's near her, Colin noticed), and he adjusts a pillow to better support her head. Sketchbook had gone completely limp, already asleep for some time.
Tony smiles, just slightly, and whispers in that tone of voice which doesn't seem quite his. "I love you, Paige."
Sketchbook doesn't reply, but Tony doesn't seem to mind.
Now, Colin had already learnt a thing or two about both of them, and every bit of information was kept in files inside his digital mind. Sketchbook is sweet and friendly, but very intimidating whenever she sees fit. Regardless of her rather small stature, harmless appearance and playful tone, she can keep any member of the house under control, even without physical force. Sometimes, other members of the house call her "they" instead of "she", which might mean there's more than one Sketchbook. However, that information was never confirmed.
Tony had, over all, a more intimidating posture, being taller and having a deep, loud voice. His temper is more intense than Sketch's, getting annoyed or angered much easier. However, he seems to pride himself in having a formal, classy posture, and will act as such until provoked. As a clock, it only makes sense that he enjoys routines and punctuality.
Now, all that was perfectly understandable and logical to Colin. However, their aliases had no satisfactory explanation. Along with those two seemingly speaking to mirrors and getting responses, their alternative names were treated as if they were separate people from themselves. They had whole talks about "Paige said, Angelo said", but sometimes, they'd answer by those names as well. "Paige" and "Angelo" also seemed to have coherent, matching information, even though Tony and Sketch had never discussed it before.
Of course, there's also that Shrignold guy, but his owner said he could be ignored by now. After all, his small domain in the sky was running smoothly. Nothing to worry about. If he joined in on the madness of the other two, then they'd have a problem.
His boss had asked of him to focus on putting Sketchbook in line, so he supposed that'd be his task for tomorrow. Tony seemed quite content with obeying Sketch's every whim either way — what a weakling —, so she'd change his mind as soon as Colin changed hers.
Now, his boss has given him some extra files on her, to lend him yet another generous hand. This was a list of phrases and themes that could make Sketchbook feel unsure of herself, ashamed or otherwise too insecure to fight back. He'd sure have appreciated these when he was targeting Tony...
~
"Paige, excuse me if I'm being insensitive," said Sketchbook's owner, sat at an office table they'd never seen before, but felt familiar anyway. "You get a little rough around the edges when you're at my age. But I gotta ask: why did you choose to switch on to more... conventional acting, let's say?"
Sketch feels Paige's chest tighten at the question, a cloud of shame coming over her. "I want to leave that life behind, you know. It's doing more harm than good." She sighs. "To be honest, I should've never gotten into that in the first place."
"Then why did you?"
"I was desperate. I wanted to help my mom, and I was a young girl, I didn't know what I was getting into..." Paige's throat tightens. "The money isn't worth it anymore. That stuff ruined my life."
"I see. Well, Paige, I want you to know you're very brave for doing this switch. I think it's admirable that you want to get a better life for yourself and your mom. You started at... Good Lord, seventeen? Are they allowed to hire someone that age for that type of job?"
"Technically not, but... The younger, the better. I know I shouldn't have applied for that so young, but-"
"Tsk," Roy shook his head. "There's some real vile people in this world. They took advantage of you, Paige, don't feel guilty. I mean, maybe I'm just ancient, but seventeen- that's a little girl to me, you know? You didn't know better."
Before they realize, Paige's face is stained with tears. "I'm sorry, sir, I just..."
"Don't worry about it, you're going through a rough patch right now." A thin, wrinkled arm pushes a box of tissues across the table. "I don't think I've seen grown men as brave as you. Professionalism be damned, you can cry a little. Talking about that, Paige..."
Paige lifts her eyes from the tissue, and although the sights are a bit blurry, Sketch can make out their owner's smile. "Yes?"
"I watched some of your videos- just the first few minutes, so I could see your acting- and I've gotta say, the people on that side of the business usually aren't that skilled at acting, but I think I struck gold with you, Paige."
"Ah, thank you... and thanks for not watching the whole thing."
"What can I say, I've only got eyes for my girl at home." He chuckles. "To me, she's prettier than any of you youngsters out there. Seriously speaking, now, it's a risky move for me to hire someone with a background like yours... But you, Paige, you've got some real skill... It'd be a pleasure to have you with us."
"Are you serious?" Paige's heart fills with joy, her tears replaced by happy crying in seconds. "Thank you so much, sir, you don't know how much you're helping me."
"No problem, kid, you've got potential. And if anyone causes you any trouble... You tell me, alright?"
~
Soon, morning came. Sketchbook really did appreciate the warm pillows, but it was getting a little too hot underneath the covers. Planning to fix that, they tried to move away, but it seems something tangled around their waist. Begrudgingly, they open their eyes, only to find that what made them feel so warm was, in fact, Tony, who was deep asleep and didn't plan on letting them go too soon. Sketchbook felt a bit embarrassed to be so close to him, but they couldn't move away, since whenever they tried, Tony would stir in his sleep and clutch them closer.
But where did he come from? Hadn't they fallen asleep in their room, and Tony in his own? They looked around to the best of their ability, and found they were the one out of place; this was Tony's room. Weird, they don't remember coming here...
"Tony..?"
"Hm?" Tony slowly wakes up, looking at them with drowsy eyes. "Sketch, what are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you that."
"... Huh." Tony blinks slowly, before giving in and closing his eyes again. He brings Sketch closer, nesting their head under his chin. "Well, I've got... One hour and forty seven minutes to sleep a little more. Care to join me..?"
"Sure, why... not..." Sketchbook replies, dozing off.
Before their reply reached his brain, Tony had already gone back to sleep, his arrows resting comfortably over his eyes.
While this, Colin strides downstairs, taking a seat next to Robin, who immediately scowls and leans away.
"Good morning, Robin!" He greets. "Have you seen Sketchbook anywhere?"
"No, they're probably with Tony." Robin huffs.
"Oh yeah, they're sleeping together now, right?" Colin mentions, as casually as possible. "I heard her going in Tony's room last night, but I thought she just wanted to talk to him... She just won't change, will she?" He laughs.
Robin squints at him. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, she's always been like that. You know, sleeping around with whoever."
"You did not just say that."
"What, am I wrong?"
"You should be quiet!" Robin snaps. "Once Tony hears about this, you're toast."
"And what is he going to do? Ask Sketch for permission to hit me?"
"Yeah, and they'll let him!"