Venom Stinger felt his slumber being rudely interrupted by a light tickling sensation on the bridge of his nose. Upon opening his eyes, he noticed a fuzzy blob of pink just sitting right in the middle of his field of view. He lifted his head up and glared at it, before blowing it off and watching it slowly float its way towards the ground.

His brow furrowed even more when he saw that the object was a bright pink flower with lush petals.

…Ew.

Venom looked around the room. This thing must’ve flown through the open window, he realized. “Guys?” he called out. “You awake?”

The only response he got was a series of various yawns and groans. “We are now,” Flutterwings answered as she lazily sat up. Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as soon as she saw what was going on outside, however. “What the—?” she uttered flatly as she saw the many groups of changelings carrying baskets. Flower baskets.

...Ew.

“What do they think they’re doing with those?” Scorch said with a disgusted snarl.

“Where did they get all of it?” Thistle asked cluelessly, scratching the side of her head with a hoof.

“I don’t really think I wanna know,” Spiny sighed heavily. “Though it actually looks like they’re… decorating?”

Everyone groaned loudly.

“Okay, then…” Venom sighed heavily. “Anyone have any ideas?”

The other five changelings stared blankly. “...For what?” Thistle raised an eyebrow.

“I-I don’t know! Anything other than what they’re currently doing!” Venom exclaimed. “I mean, sure it’s just a dozen changelings throwing flowers everywhere, but what if they try to talk us into doing the same thing?! Plus, we certainly can’t focus on anything with these things floating around the area.”

“Venom, I’m sure they won’t—”

“We need to find some privacy. Now.”

“Thoraaaaaax…”

The quiet, whispery voice rasped right up against the changeling’s eardrum, causing him to groan and stir in his interrupted slumber. Upon slowly sitting up and rubbing his droopy eyelids, Thorax gazed at a group of nymphs, each of which had an explicitly annoyed expression on his or her face.

“...What?” he uttered cluelessly, still trying to blink himself into rousal. “Ugh… did I miss crafttime again?”

“There is no crafttime,” one of the nymphs answered with a huff.

“What?” Thorax said for the second time, though in an even more confused manner. “What do you mean?”

“Those big dumb changelings raided the crafttime table and won’t share any tape!” another nymph whined.

“What big dumb changelings?”

Before he got an answer, a peculiar noise quickly grabbed Thorax’s attention; the faint sound of plastic scraping against stone. His attention turned to the gaping opening of the room he was in, seeing a small object being dragged against the rough ground.

It was a small tape dispenser. One that was being pulled by an incredibly long piece of scotch tape—that was hanging from the tape roll—as if it were a dog on a leash.

Thorax got up and dashed towards it; as soon as he did, the tape seemed to pick up a bit speed, even more so when he began chasing after it.

He already knew how ridiculous he probably looked to the other changelings, pursuing a seemingly sentient piece of tape, but that wasn’t his main concern.

He kept on galloping for a while, before slowing to a stop in front of a rather unusual sight to behold.

The changeling king was staring at a large hollow cavity, one just large enough to house almost ten changelings at once. However, the entrance to it was blocked off by a very large, thick web of scotch tape. The tape itself seemed to go in a multitude of directions; horizontal, vertical, diagonal, even circular.

Thorax gawked at the unusual sight for a few moments, shortly being joined by a few other changelings who came to investigate.

He looked straight ahead to see his brother walking up to it, and he was somehow able to tell that he had been there before all of them.

Pharynx experimentally touched the makeshift web, his hoof already sticking to a few strings of the tape. He pulled it down and squinted into the blackness behind it. Eventually, a pair of sapphire eyes came into view, staring straight back at him.

“Of course…” the prince muttered faintly.

“Who is it?” the familiar voice asked.

“I think you already know the answer, Venom.”

“Er… what makes you say that?”

Pharynx gestured to the many strips of tape with a hoof, glaring.

“…eheheheh.”

Thorax walked over next to his brother, also squinting into the faint blackness. “What are you guys even doing in there?” he asked, trying to remove the huge mass of tape from the entrance.

“…sitting.”

“…Can you come out so we can see you?”

No response.

Thorax sighed heavily. “This isn’t funny, guys,” he said with a frown. “You realize how long it’ll take us to resupply all this? I already had to cut the Feelings Forum short again, and I don’t want to have to cancel craft time, too…”

More silence. The blue eyes appeared again, a bit closer. “… ‘craft time’?”

“…Yes, craft time!”

“…is that some sort of stealth training?”

“What? No, of course not!” Thorax answered. “You guys seriously never had craft time?”

“No… have you?”

“I haven’t either, at first…” the taller changeling explained. “I used to craft my own dolls when I was little, but I had little-to-no familiarity with drawing, or painting, or anything like that. That was until I visited an artistic exhibit back when I lived in the Crystal Empire.”

“A what now?”

“Over the days I spent there, I learned so much about it, and I was able to take it up as a hobby of my own. I never would’ve done such a thing if Sunburst wasn’t there to guide me, so, maybe… I might be able to teach you guys?”

He heard a couple of faint whispers. It took a few moments, but a small fly came buzzing out from the small gaps in the web of scotch tape, followed by many others. Several flashes later, six colorful changelings stood before him.

“Guess we might give it a go.”

Thorax beamed brightly. “Splendid! You definitely won’t regret it, Venom. I promise!”

If there was one thing Venom agreed with Pharynx about, it was that Thorax was a terrible liar.

I’m already regretting this, he thought as he stared blankly at the thick, gooey, colorful substance sputtering out the bottle and onto a nearby changeling’s wooden slab.

He looked down at the flat white parchment in front of him, which was accompanied by a few stick-like objects scattered on the table. Venom picked up one of them, specifically the one with the cluster of soft bristles sticking at the very top. He picked up another one, which had a pointed tip. What the hay even are these things?

The blue changeling glanced at his siblings, who were all just as clueless as he was. He looked everywhere else, seeing many changelings each decorating either a parchment or a canvas with their chosen implements.

Venom shook his head, then reached over and picked up a large plastic bottle, one that was colored a bright orange. He squinted at it, then shook it rapidly above the round wooden slab. Come on, come on… he urged, banging it on the table several times and giving it a hard squeeze…

Squelchh!

“AAAAHHH!”

Venom bit his lip hard as he looked around the area, noticing several changelings staring at him. He looked down, large orange splatters littering his working space.

He blushed heavily as he heard a few of those changelings snickering. Grabbing a nearby rag, he desperately tried to clean himself of the orange goop, wiping his forelegs and face.

This stuff clashes with my chitin.

Venom got up from his seat, continuing to clean the table. Once he was finally done, he looked straight ahead, at one of the tables slightly further from his. Only two changelings sat over there, and they seemed to be using a pile of twigs, with some small rocks and shiny pebbles. One of them was crafting what appeared to be a small house, and the other was crafting a makeshift wagon.

“…Hey guys?” he asked his siblings with a small grin.

They all looked over at him.

“I think I finally know what this ‘craftime’ is all about.”

“Wow, Xenica, that looks so cool!”

“Thanks, Cercus,” the ruby changeling replied, admiring her creation. “How’s yours coming along?”

“Great!” the yellow changeling replied, before reaching over to the box sitting in the middle of the table. “I just need a few more… u-uh…”

Cercus’ hoof searched the box, trying to search for a cluster of twigs. What he got was nothing but empty space. He looked inside, seeing only a few stick pieces lying at the very bottom. Cercus then looked straight at the blue reformed changeling sitting on the opposite side, who was crafting a long pole-like structure and still had a large mound of twigs sitting right next to him.

The yellow changeling huffed and glared. “Hey, Smurfbug, you’re using all the sticks.”

The changeling looked up from his work. “All changeling weaponry must be durable,” he said. “My spear would be flimsy without a strong enough shaft!”

Cercus winced back. “D-Don’t shout!”

“I’ll shout, I’ll shout if I want to, and do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I hate crafttime!” Venom quickly stood up on his chair and raised his makeshift spear up. “I want to fiiiiight!” he yelled out, joined by his five changeling peers.

Author's Note

Apologies for not updating this for so long… and for the half-assed chapter. ADHD and procrastination has been getting the best of me for the past few months or so.

There’s a reference to The Odd One somewhere in here, by the way.