I Love These Two Clowns! Their Dynamic Is So Entertaining & Today They Got Me Laughing. They Just Started

An eclipse for everyone to celebrate :]

Objectober day 30 - Sleepover

ii 15 predicition

Cohosts in cahoots!

HEYY THIS IS WHERE I DRAW STUFF YEAA!!!!

ALSO I MIGHT DO REQUESTS BUT UHHH RULES

1. no problematic ships pls

2. please say if it is a ship or not while requesting two or more characters and if you want a separate drawing or not

3. BLACKLIST:

-woodblock

-bracelety x ice cube

-winnerclock

-trophy x knife

-mephone x mepad/toilet

4. be patient since I have irl stuff to do pls

5. Imm not allowed to do a request if it’s uncomfortable

6. no suggestive/nsfw reqs!!! kazui is minor!!!!!!

7. it’s sometimes gonna not be coloured,, it depends,,,

8. no hate art or bigot reqs

9. pls say if you want it to be humanised or not

that’s all!!!!!

Keep sucking his flat face/ref

IM ACTUALLY GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET I WAS REWATCHINF A CLIP.I LOVE TOILETS NEW VA THEY SOUND LIKE KWAZI FROM OCTONAUTS IM SCREECHING

> hi ii tag. Have a ref for my toipad fusion

So uh, no cover for this yet, but I wrote this an age ago and figured now was a good time to post it.

Bindle

Fandom: Inanimate Insanity Rating: K Genre: Angst Characters: Toilet (plus references to other characters like MePhone and MePad) Fic Description: Mister Phone had told him to leave, so it was time to go. Beta Readers: @jaywings and @mephoj Notes: I know the subtitles spell it "Mistah Phone," but since he's being referred to just in prose here and not in dialogue (with Toilet's accent), it's just "Mister Phone."

---~~~---

He didn't much remember what he'd packed.

Everything had happened so fast, and he could hardly think past the burning and dizziness in his tank as he hopped away to gather what little he had. The only thing to bring him out of his haze was the sudden spike of frustration at how hard it was to tie a knot without hands, especially when he wasn't focused.

Toilet found himself biting down on one corner of the red handkerchief, trying to tug at the knot with his invisible grip. It wasn't a very good knot and Mister Phone wouldn't have been terribly happy with that kind of shoddy work but he managed to secure it to the stick he'd apparently found. The bindle was not a big one, but he slung it behind his tank nonetheless.

Mister Phone had told him to leave, so it was time to go.

While his earlier actions had been performed in a furious, tear-blurred haze, he hopped through the contestant grounds with a great deal more slowness, thumping against the soft grass and feeling heavier with each step. After a moment he paused, turning around to take in the view.

By now, the area was cast in soft moonlight, and it was hard to see everything from where Toilet stood at the edge of the grounds. If any contestants were still out and about—probably celebrating their immunity and the fact that they got to spend more time with Mister Phone—he couldn't see them from here. Maybe a speck of light in the distance indicating Hotel OJ, but that was it. He didn't even get to have one last look at the people he'd been working with for the past several months.

It struck him that he didn't even get to say goodbye.

Something gave a terrible yank in his plumbing, and he jumped up into a frantic hover.

"GOODBYE EVERYBODYYYY!" he called out into the night. His voice echoed briefly, and he landed on the ground, waiting a moment. When nothing happened, he jumped into a slightly lower hover, shakily adding: "I-I love you...!"

Again he landed, waiting a moment longer for a response. Maybe someone rushing out to ask him what was going on, or where he was going. Or someone calling "goodbye" back. He'd even take Mister Phone telling him to shut up.

Nothing.

He was leaving this place for good, and no one cared.

Something tugged in his plumbing again, and he spun back around, hurrying away as his vision blurred with tears.

But no, no, maybe they didn't know yet, he argued to himself as he charged past the edges of the contestant grounds. Maybe they hadn't noticed—the last challenge hadn't ended that long ago. It had to be that, right? Maybe later they'd be looking around for him and saying "Hey, where did Toilet run off to?" They would miss him, Mister Phone would miss him, they had to, they had to, they—

His porcelain struck a rock he'd failed to notice, and he tumbled forward, splashing water on the ground and inadvertently slinging his bindle ahead of him. It clattered down softly in the grass, the handkerchief coming untied, spilling some of its contents.

"Ah!" he cried, hurrying up to the pile of items. While some were still covered by the handkerchief, several colorful cards had been scattered across the grass.

Toilet rushed to gather them up, but took a moment to stare at each one as he picked it up. The first was a cat drawn in marker and glitter on a blue card, while the next was... Microphone? He'd drawn her shouting with a bunch of sound waves coming out around her. Next was Baseball and Nickel—he'd drawn them on the same card since they seemed to like to hang out—and then there was Balloon, and Fan and that funny egg, and some more cats, and Marshmallow, and Mister Phone, and...

...Oh, right. These had been for him.

He'd nearly forgotten, after everything that had happened. He'd drawn these the other day when he'd found Mister Phone unconscious by the painting of the corn man. He'd had that weird message on his screen—something about memory—so Toilet had decided to try drawing a bunch of "memory cards" to help him jog that memory. He'd drawn all the contestants, even the eliminated ones, so Mister Phone would remember the game show and be able to get back to it. But then MePad had come along and—

Toilet paused.

On the last card, he’d drawn MePad next to Toilet himself.

I do not intend on being superior to you at all. I consider us equals. We both serve a different purpose, is all.

He stared down at the drawing, at MePad's screen colored in purple ink and shimmering glitter.

The last time he'd seen that screen, he'd been staring into it imploringly, waiting for MePad to back him up, to support him as he always had. Mister Phone was upset and not acting very rationally, but MePad could talk Mister Phone down and convince him that he didn't need to fire Toilet.

But when MePad had met Toilet's gaze, he'd only looked away.

"Equals…?" Toilet muttered, glaring down at the drawing. "Good to know that was a bunch of hogwash!" He punctuated the last word with a splash of water, soaking the card and causing the ink to run, the glitter to wash away. For a moment he felt a twinge of regret, but only for a moment, and he turned back to the fallen bindle with a huff.

As he moved part of the handkerchief aside to put the stack of cards back in, he wound up uncovering the rest of its contents: a bundle of wires in a rainbow of colors.

Oh.

That’s right… Mister Phone had asked for them so often, he'd finally gone out one day to gather a variety of them to have ready. He hadn't really asked for them since, but Toilet had hung onto them, just in case.

Maybe Mister Phone would need them again—need him again—and call him back.

Shaking himself, Toilet quickly gathered his possessions again and tied the bindle back together, making sure the knot was extra-tight this time. Slinging it behind his tank, he continued his journey, noticing the grass beneath him slowly transition into sand. Up ahead, water lapped against the otherwise-silent beach.

It struck him that he had no idea where to go from here. He'd been working here for so long, ever since Master Adam had hired him to—

...Wait, that was it!

Mister Phone had only gotten so angry after he'd mentioned Master Adam. It had to be something to do with him, right? If Mister Phone was angry at Master Adam, then Master Adam must've done something awful!

Where was Master Adam, though? Toilet had never met him in person—they'd only ever spoken over the phone. But Mister Phone had also mentioned the corn man, so maybe Master Adam was working for him? Funny he'd never seen him when they visited the Cloud, though. If he'd known, he would've stopped at his office to say hello.

Well... maybe he could give his office a visit, then, but not for a friendly chat.

Toilet strode across the sandy beach, a goal finally set in mind.

He was going to get to the bottom of this, and figure out what was bothering Mister Phone once and for all.

And… and then maybe Mister Phone would want him back.

…Maybe?

…please?

ah, i wish i could become your shadow