Chapter Text
The off-season.
A state in which holiday toons naturally feel the need to isolate themselves from others.
In this state, their emotions are dulled somewhat. This is crucial for keeping them sane during the several months they experience without any contact from the outside world.
It was never a perfect solution. Some might say it was a… very cruel solution.
But nobody ever took it up with Delilah Keen. And if you did, she waved you off and told you to go clean the ichor barrels.
The Christmas toons all had their own ways of handling the off-season.
Rudie deluded himself. He told himself it was Christmas every day, and he told himself this until he started to believe it. This had the unfortunate effect of making him unbearable to be around for more than five minutes, but at least he seems happy.
Ginger wrote letters. There was no shortage of paper in the bowels of Gardenview, so she took what she could find and she wrote letters. Some to her cousin, some to her friends, some to the other Christmas toons. Most of these letters never saw the light of day, but the few that did were much appreciated.
Coal… really didn’t change all that much. Coal had never been a social creature, so the off-season was her idea of a holiday.
And Bobette was provided a way to handle the off-season: work.
As soon as the off-season began, she locked herself away in her office and began preparations for the next Christmas. With so many toons and so many presents, this kept her plenty busy.
She thought of ideas for gifts.
She made gifts.
She wrapped those gifts.
She put them aside.
She thought of other ideas for gifts.
She made gifts.
She wrapped those gifts.
She put them aside.
She thought of gifts.
She made gifts.
She wrapped gifts.
She put them aside.
Thought of gifts.
Made gifts.
Wrapped gifts.
She put them aside.
Gifts.
Gifts.
Gifts.
She put them aside.
If there was one thing certain about Bobette, it was her dedication.
Shelly didn’t have to work hard to know a lot about dinosaurs. She loved dinosaurs. Her job was amazing.
Vee enjoyed writing her quiz shows. And even if she didn’t like one she had written, she still enjoyed performing them.
Astro certainly enjoyed his work. He got to make amazing dreams for the toons and he could do it in his sleep. Literally.
Sprout loved baking. Cosmo, too. They never stopped talking about cooking and baking and food and all that.
Dandy was the star of Gardenview. He was certainly happy. Dyle… Bobette didn’t know much about Dyle, but he seemed content too.
And she’d never met the other holiday mains herself, but she has to assume they’re hard workers who like what they do.
…then there’s Bobette. She makes gifts all year for the other toons.
She wasn’t bad at it. No, the opposite. She was made for this job. She was able to work for hours on end without even a moment’s rest. She could wrap presents at a pace that would make an entire assembly line blush. She was Bobette, the closest thing Gardenview had to its own personal Santa Claus.
There were times when Bobette made little mistakes.
She was only human—toon, for the pedants—after all. No matter how long she could work and how well she could work, there was bound to be a chip in the wood of a new sleigh, or a speck of paint flying off a brush and ending up on the wrapping paper.
And it didn’t bother Bobette. She’d glance at the imperfection for a moment, but she wouldn’t think anything more of it.
After all, there’s only so much time before Christmas rolls around again.
Christmas was a happy time.
Something as joyous as every toon gathering in the lobby, decorated with trees and tinsel and bright blinking lights, staring expectantly at their present pile… nothing could sour that image to Bobette. Nothing.
After all, it was her blood, her sweat, her tears that made this happen. Every smile in that room was because of her.
-uh, not to say that she was taking all the credit. The presents were a big part of Christmas, but it was also the holiday spirit! The things that Christmas brought, like eggnog… cookies…
…really. The gifts weren’t that big a deal.
Sometimes.
Sometimes Bobette wondered.
Wondered how the other toons would feel if they didn’t get as many presents this year.
If this year, she stopped. She let her hands, somehow both numb and burning at the same time, rest.
Only for a moment.
And this moment would turn into a second. Then a minute. Then an entire hour where the gifts were not wrapped, nor made, nor thought of.
An hour.
A selfish hour.
That was it.
Bobette, no matter how long she could work, no matter how much she could do, no matter how many people were made happy because of her… was selfish.
Every moment she paused to blink was selfish. Every second she spent picking up the brush that had fallen from her numb, burning fingers was selfish. Every time she looked at the mountain of bright and shiny and beautiful gifts set aside and wished that even just one of them had her name on the tag, she was selfish.
One.
Just one.
One time she’d like to have a gift of her own.
She didn’t even have to open it. She’d be happy just to look at it. To know it existed. That somewhere out there, there was something that someone had planned to give to her and her alone.
Would the other toons care if she went missing?
Yes, she told herself. They would care.
And would they care because they care about her, or because they care about missing their presents under the tree?
Bobette never had an answer to that follow-up.
If given the choice between you and their presents, how many toons do you think would pick you over their gifts?
If Bobette’s chair collapsed in a certain way, she would hit her head on the corner of her desk.
And it would shatter. And, presumably, her ichor would coat the floor, ruining the carpet and even the gift she had been working on.
And she would lay there, numb as her fingers, and wait for someone to discover her.
And when they did, they would see her dead on the floor and cry. They would cry for her, because now that she’s gone, there will be no one making presents, and Christmas will be ruined.
How could you have done something so selfish, Bobette?
Another selfish break.
Her selfish eyes looked to the present pile, away from the wooden train she was painting. She tore herself away.
Bobette was dedicated.
Dedicated.
And then, the click of a lock.
Bobette didn’t even hear it. It was such a quiet sound, and she was so dedicated to her craft that she only looked away once the door swung open.
Her eyes landed on a scarlet toon in a light blue sweater with a bright yellow star on the front.
“What up,” she said with a nod.
“Gigi?” Bobette raised an eyebrow. “How did you- did I leave the door unlocked?”
“Nah.” The gachapon popped her head open (something that never failed to unnerve Bobette, no matter how many times she saw it happen) and produced a lockpick. “I always keep these on me in case of emergency.”
“…ah.”
Gigi stashed the lockpick away, as quickly as she had produced it. “So. You gonna ask why I’m here, or is this a regular thing for you?”
“I mean, I didn’t want to come off as rude-” Bobette stammered. “-but, uh… yeah. Why are you here? Not that I don’t appreciate you visiting!”
“We’re going to Vegas.”
The ornament blinked. “…what?”
“Vegas. Las Vegas. You know, the place with all the casinos in Nevada.”
“Gigi, Nevada is… I don’t even know how far it is from Gardenview.”
“Neither do I!” Gigi let out a laugh. “But the car Dyle managed to rent for us has GPS, so it won’t be too much trouble.”
…Bobette sighed. This was a crazy thing to suggest, but it wasn’t all that crazy that Gigi had been the one to suggest it.
“I really appreciate the offer, but I shouldn’t,” the ornament declined. “I’ve got presents to make, and I really can’t leave the office… y’know, off-season and all that.”
Gigi’s face fell, going from a smirk to a frown of mild disappointment. “Dang. You sure?”
“I’m sure. But hey, thanks for stopping by!” Bobette grinned. “Happy-”
She stopped herself before ‘holidays’. She really needed to train herself to say something different to end conversations.
“Yeah, yeah. Real shame, though.” The gachapon slid her oversized sleeves behind her back. “I was hoping you’d come… willingly.”
…Bobette paused work on the train. “…what’s that supposed to-”
A loud metallic crash rung throughout the office as a vent cover hit the floor, and Yatta lunged to drag Bobette into the passageway.
“WHA- HEY!” The ornament struggled against the piñata’s grip. “WHAT’S GOING ON?!”
An eerie cyan light signaled the appearance of Connie, floating after Yatta and Bobette. “You’re getting kidnapped,” the ghost stated. “You really couldn’t figure that one out by yourself?”
“But- but what about the presents?!”
“Come on. There’s like… 365 days in a year. You get out for 31 of those days. That leaves 334 days to make presents, and losing like… a week won’t-”
“A WEEK!?” Bobette shrieked. “I CAN’T LOSE A WEEK! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PRESENTS I COULD MAKE IN A WEEK?”
She struggled again against Yatta’s grasp, but it was no use. The acrobat was ridiculously toned for how much candy she ate on the regular.
“See, it’s because of this attitude that we’re taking you out.” Connie rolled her eyes. “You gotta loosen up a little.”
“‘Loosen up’- Connie, I can PROMISE you that going to VEGAS is NOT going to help me!” Bobette was struggling to not start hyperventilating. Her office was abandoned, she was getting taken not just out of the basement but out of the BUILDING, and these vents were NOT helping her feel any less pressured.
“Hey, it’s not just going to be you! And Gigi.” Connie reasoned. “I’m coming too! And so’s Yatta, she really wants to check out the candy scene there.”
“I HEAR they have CANDY MARTINIS!” Yatta announced in her ever-inconsistent cadence. “I don’t even KNOW WHAT a MARTINI is, but IT SOUNDS YUMMY!”
This was Hell. Bobette was in Hell.
“Look. It’s just a week!” Connie repeated. “One week, and then you can go back to sitting in your office, working yourself sick. But until then, we’re gonna be having the best road trip of all time, and then we’re gonna gamble, and then get candy for Yatta, and blah blah blah hey Yatta are we almost at the spot yet?”
“YEP!”
And then, Bobette felt the surface beneath her give way.
They landed in… some kind of parking garage, filled with abandoned cars and service vehicles. And standing in front of one of the cars, swinging a key ring around a rarely-exposed finger, was Gigi.
“Hey! You all made it, mweheh.” Gigi smirked once again. “Y’all ready for one unforgettable trip?”
“You know it, girl!” Connie gave a thumbs up, floating into the passenger seat.
“READY AS EVER!” Yatta confirmed, dragging Bobette into the back of the car with her.
“…I’m not going to forget this, that’s for sure…” Bobette groaned, feeling queasy already.
“Great to hear.” Gigi herself got behind the wheel. The seat had been modified to allow a toon to drive. “And Bobette, if you’re gonna puke, do it out the window.”
And with that ask, Gigi placed her foot on the pedal, starting the car down a path of exit signs.