(theres only so much i can do with characters with no connection or chemistry)
Blocky was attentively staring at the clock.
He could still remember the moment like it just happened 2.763 seconds ago. The moment everything, *everything* changed.
Blocky's Funny Doings International was doing as well as it's ever been, pulling pranks left and right, inconveniencing anyone that got in his way, all that good stuff. With basically *nobody* around to stop him, with those that had the capability not bothering, it seemed like he was on top of the world. That he could do *anything*.
But then, very suddenly, he'd realize that he wasn't.
He was in the middle of wasting everyone's time with asinine nonsense when, all at once, the crushing weight of the consequences of his actions would surround him all at once. In an instant, his one and only special skill, the only thing he knew how to do well, was taken away. No more pranks, no more jokes, no more nonsense. He had bothered and hampered the lives of ordinary people for far, *far* too long, and now he had to pay the price for it. From that day on, from here on out, he wasn't able to prank anyone anymore. Not for a very, very, *very* long time.
Seeing his pranking empire collapse like a house of cards overnight, Blocky would obviously be *extremely* miffed about this new development. He wouldn't get much time to let it simmer, however; he ended up getting eliminated from the Battle for Battle for (Battle for) Dream Island not long afterwards, and he had more issues he had to take care of.
And so, time passed. As the hexahedron spun around in the Big Rotating building, the Earth too rotated about its axis, and it also continued its orbit around the Sun, and the Sun presumably also continued its path going from one place to some other place; he wouldn't know, he's not into dumb lame stuff like Golf Ball is. All that matters is time. It passed. Plenty of it. The red cube counted the times he was dragged around in a circle, losing track after the 2,760th (or so) go around that twisted merry-go-round. The sun set, the sun rose, then it set again, then rose once more. Over and over and over again.
More time passed. BFB would near its long-awaited conclusion, and he (and the other eliminated contestants too, I guess) would be let out to take part in the penultimate festivities. The final two duked it out, a winner was proclaimed, the BFDI (and the other prizes) would be handed out. Finally, *finally*, the Battle for Dream Island, the one thing they'd spent pretty much their entire lives on, was over. There may already be plans for yet *another* season, sure, but surely he'd get the choice on whether or not he got to go, right?
Right?
Yet more time passed. Blocky, still banned from doing pranks and looking for something else to fill that void in his life, would start going into all sorts of other ventures with his new... *friends*. They weren't exactly Eraser, or Pen, or Snowball, but they were a... *sufficient* replacement.
Sheesh. Already so long since that split, since that *other* weird talking number arrived and divided the contestants, already so long since he learned to warm up to people and change for the better. And yet some things still remained the same. He still yearned for his old pals, he still yearned for his old antics. Old habits just die hard, you know? It's why *some* of them were so willing to jump straight into *another* season so soon after the previous one just ended. The Battle for Dream Island was all they had ever known, and so it was a battle and a half to figure out what was next.
And speaking *of* the Battle, that silly old conflict over The Power of Two would also come to an end at some point. Those contestants presumably all had their own stories, their own intrigue, but he couldn't really care less. He had his own stuff to take care of by now, and all he wanted most of all was to finally reunite with his friends. In those days, try as he might to hide it, he actually felt *fear*. The one thing he wanted to instill onto others, and now he was getting it himself. Unheard of. But what if they had moved on with their lives without him? What if their group became stronger, *far* stronger than it was while he was still around? What if, and the thought kept him up at night, they made *new* friends?
