#Tvomas Conner

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

can we have some TVom shenanigans?

I give you a gif:

And a ficlet to go with it: Enjoy.

GENT and its employees had an... interesting relationship with the studio who needed their services. It was nice to have a steady source of income and the two companies were fairly civil towards each other. But good god was that place weird and concerning.

Mr. Hill often received reports that were either vague or outright bizarre from one of his best workers. These reports ranged from last month's "We need stronger pipes, something keeps breaking the ones we got." message to yesterday's "The Ink may or may not have gained sentience and became something akin to morally-skewed trickster deity that's trying to effect everyone at once. If you never hear from me or anyone else who worked in the studio again, don't take chances, just set that entire dang building on fire." message.

Before today, he half wondered if Mr. Conner had been accidentally sending in snippets from the studio's scripts... Until a grumpy looking, toddler-sized cartoon character with a TV for a head marched into his office, tugged on his pant leg, and handed him a note saying "Don't burn the studio down, Joey and I managed to get the situation under control, but neither of us got out unscathed. Also, I doubt it would be a good idea to send me in to our other clients."

The toon in question wore noting but a pair of ink-stained gloves, short-shafted rubber boots, and a tool belt. Murray Hill was already dumbfounded, but was even more so when the TV's antenna shot up in realization as he snapped his fingers and dug through his non-existent pockets to pull a driver's licence out of his wallet. A driver’s licence that the man knew who it belonged to.

"Conner?! T-THOMAS CONNER?!" Murray picked up the toon who squirmed and kicked in his grasp, surprisingly, the little creature was far heavier than he looked, possibly even the same weight as his former self. "Is this really you?!"

After squeezing himself out of his boss's grip and face-planting onto the floor, Thomas pulled himself up and nodded. His expression was somewhere in-between annoyance, dying of embarrassment, and begrudging acceptance of his fate.

"Holy Cow..."

The man muttered under his breath as he was slowly processing that not only was magic apparently real and frequently practiced in his client's workplace, cartoons were real, and apparently, his best employee was turned into one. If he had been drinking coffee before hand, he would've spat it out immediately in sheer shock.

He felt like he was dreaming, but nope. Even after pinching himself to check that this was a dream, across from his desk on a wooden chair (that he really should get around to replacing) was a living, breathing(?), television that had cable and a working remote.

"MUR-*click* -EEEE-*click*, -I doubt that-*click* -this can be-*click* -THAT-*click* -amusing-*click* -to-*click* -you." Thomas managed to cobble together out of different shows as his boss continued to change his channels.

"Excuse me, amusing?! This isn't even close to that! It's incredible!" The man nervously laughed as he put the remote down, the gremlin of a toon quickly snatching it up in response. "...And a little terrifying... How'd this even happen?!"

"K̵̖̂Ḳ̷͈̾̾k̴̙͒k̷͎̋K̷͈͆K̷͕̎ḱ̴̯̚ͅk̵͈͛̿S̷͓̟̚Ş̷̝͂̚S̵̖̈́̈ͅS̵̱̆͑S̸͎̒ŝ̵̝̲̚Ṡ̷͕ș̵͌̌š̶̡̬̒s̸̫͘͝s̵͓̓̊s̴̠͚̓H̷͍̭̀̕Ḥ̷̣̀H̸̤̑͝ḧ̶̰̇h̴͛͒͜H̴̹͉͗H̶̖́̃"

Static came out of the mechanic's speakers as he tried to explain the situation to his boss, he slapped his hand against where a mouth would be if he had one and let out a crackling static sigh before pulling out a notepad and pencil from behind himself.

Remember yesterday's report? the toon wrote down.

"Yes, but I assume you meant that you and Mr. Drew got hurt somehow."

His boss was ...technically right, he's been a TV for less than a full day and his pride and dignity was shattered beyond repair and he had fallen flat on his face more times than he'd like to admit.

So, as you can see, my current condition is basically the reason why I requested not to be sent to any other clients aside from the Studio. Unfortunately, neither I or Mr. Drew know when or how this will stop but I can assure you that the second he figures out a solution to this, I will take it.

Murray nodded understandably, taking a seat in his proper chair and writing something down on a fancy looking piece of paper while still keeping eye contact with his TV-headed employee.

Any further questions?

"Wouldn't it be easier to just send in a report how you normally do?"

I doubt you'd believe me about ...this if you didn't see it for yourself.

"Well, would you blame me?! The last time I believed in magic was when I was six!"

Thomas narrowed his eyes at his boss but nodded in agreement. Honestly, if you were to tell his past self what kind of shenanigans went down at his 'favorite' client's building, he'd think you were just telling him about the plot of some odd children's book you found. Or a cartoon series.

"Aright, next question: Is this contagious?"

God I hope not, I sure as hell wouldn't wish this upon anybody aside from- A jolt of realization hit him as he frantically and angrily scribbled down; WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD YOU PICK ME UP AND HANDLE ME LIKE A GODDAMN STUFFED ANIMAL IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS CONTAGIOUS?!

"Sorry! Sorry! I'll admit, I wasn't thinking straight."

Thomas pinched the bridge of his 'nose' and shook his head.

"Is there anything you'd request for the company to provide to help you with your condition?" 'Maybe a portable stepladder?' he thought to himself, but didn't add.

The toon scratched his chin in thought and then shrugged.

I'll inform you if I think of anything.

"Okay... What excuse would you like me to give our other clients who request you, the classic 'you're sick and can't go' or something different?"

Let's stick with that.

"Do you feel safe continuing to work with the studio while you're like this? I'm not exactly an expert on getting your physical form rewritten into something else, but I'm pretty sure getting turned into a two-foot-something tall cartoon is somewhere in a similar ballpark to getting sick and or injured. So taking sick leave while you deal with this isn't out of the question."

The toon mechanic paused for a while, staring at the blank paper as he thought through his answer.

Yes, Joey and I got it under control. No, I'm not taking sick leave.

"Suit yourself then..." Murray shrugged. "I suppose it's better than trying to find someone else with the patience to deal with those constantly-breaking pipes."

Is that all?

"Before you go, I have one final question..." Tom's boss dug through his desk and pulled out some papers along with the one he was writing down, one of them looking like a contract as he set it down on his desk. "As you know, for a while, our marketing team has thrown around the idea of having a mascot to help with advertising, So..."

As the mechanic flipped through the contract, he was both dreading and intrigued by the upcoming question; on one hand, the hefty pay increase and the other bonuses mentioned in the contract did look promising, on the other hand, even if Joey found a cure, this would both immortalize "TVom" and kill any chance that he'd ever have at rebuilding his previously almost legendary "It's been X days since the ink decided to mess with me" streak. That stuff might even see this as an excuse to turn him into this thing whenever it saw the chance!

"How'd you feel about being the company's new mascot?"

Getting a lot of money or rebuilding his dignity... which should he choose? The man saw the horrors of the great depression first hand and like many of his generation, was scarred by the struggle of constantly struggling to stay out of poverty. But he also didn't like the idea of joining Sammy by being in the "Supernatural force's punching bag" club.

...I'll think about it...

He slid over his written answer as he took a copy of the contract.

"Ah! Excellent news!” Murray clapped his hands together and grinned from ear to ear. “Remember, this is just a first draft of the contract, so if you're interested later on, we'll go through a revised and more polished version by then."

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

I drew a thing for it.

Honest question

Who would win on a fight, Thomas or Thin? (I take them because they're tall, but Thin Man is probably taller than Tom)

I think Tom would do? Because he's strong and shit, Thin is just-, Thin.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

I give you, an object head Thomas Conner who I’ve affectionately nicknamed “TVom”

And Context:

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

WereToon Thomas stuff¿?

-He accidentally cursed himself with this. Intentionally sabotaged the pipe trying to get someone else who learned too much killed, but the pipes burst in a way he didn’t expect them to and the ink spilled on the wrong person.

-Blames Wally for his curse bc he’s the only other person working on the pipes and is frustrated that he can’t take it out on him without raising suspicion.

-Luckily, as he knew what was coming, he had a lot of time to prepare himself for this and his hours are pretty flexible so he won’t have to worry about someone catching him during full moons.

-What he wasn’t expecting was for his toon form to be much smaller than his human form. A scrawny little thing that’s a whopping two and a half feet tall, to be specific.

-Is low key thankful that his toon form doesn’t resemble his human form in any way, shape, or form. Even if it does feel embarrassing for him to look like this and feels weird in general to not be a ‘human’ toon.

-Speaking of not-human, his toon form’s biology freaks him the fuck out. Who designed this?! How much of him is a machine and how much is just a fucked-up biological being?! Why does he have that attached to his tailbone?! Oh god... It moves... Look, he’s somewhat glad that he didn’t get his mouth removed altogether, but why does he have a mouth there?!

-Don’t patronize him by picking him up and or baby-talking him, he’s still the same grumpy mechanic on the inside and will not hesitate to either give a sharp kick to the shins or sock somebody’s teeth out.

-He wont let anyone know about this if he can help it, even if that means that it will be harder for him to try to cure himself.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

This conversation makes me think of the Toon!Tom with a TV for a head, if Thin Man was fighting that Tom, he’d win no problem. Normal Tom? Not so much.

Honest question

Who would win on a fight, Thomas or Thin? (I take them because they're tall, but Thin Man is probably taller than Tom)

I think Tom would do? Because he's strong and shit, Thin is just-, Thin.