Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Cycle Circus had been a beloved fixture of the Housedom for about a few decades now, founded by Washford the Washing Machine and Drysdale the Tumble Dryer out of a shared love for making a performance out of their work. Objects with some closely related involvement with the wash cycle process found themselves joining in as both a means of community and salary.

Sinclaire had a role of accounting the finances everywhere he had at spot at. In the Laundry Room, he did almost all of the work, collaborating with Hoove, who was the ticket man for the Circus shows, and Daisuke, the Circus's most consistent patron (more consistent than Wyndolyn, Curt, and Rod, which may be due to the fact that those three were much more spread out, and therefore, spread thin). If more than one of them couldn't be available, Tyrell would occasionally make time in between heading the main custodial duties of the Housedom, refusing compensation what with his strangely placed humility.

The initial meeting had been prompted due to House President Celia visiting, accompanied by Secretarial Vice Florence. It shouldn’t be a surprise, Washford and Drysdale never were whenever the two ladies came over, but it had apparently been that very day. The Sink witnessed the rare look on the two men’s faces when the Ceiling and Floor entered, graceful as ever.

“Celia, Florence!” Drysdale was the first to greet the two, pausing in the middle of finishing stretches, "What brings you two here?"

Celia simply gave the Stackables a curt nod, "We need to discuss a matter with you two concerning the cut the HOA gets from The Cycle Circus."

At that, Washford and Drysdale brought themselves quickly into more professional standing positions.

"Should we move somewhere more private?" Washford asked, gesturing towards his and Drysdale's shared rental space in the Laundry Room.

"That would be appreciated, Washford," Celia, with Florence trailing behind her, "I fear this information must be delivered with discretion."

Once the four disappeared from his line of sight, the Sink could only sigh. He wondered when the other Circus members were going to pick up on the gradually rising inflation every year? By normalizing the increase (and campaign funding) during Election season, it would be very easy for the HOA to raise the taxes on everyone even higher than they should.

Then again, what is Money to a bunch of objects with nothing better to do? The farce of order they all play, Sinclaire mused, had lost its flow.

Once upon a time, Dirk and the Hanks were very committed to their jobs as performers. Hoove would stick to his custodial duties and investigative contributions to Housedom Security. Now, the Hanks had to split after every show to devote themselves into their individual side hustles to get by (which had worsened since the time they had asked Willi to cut off their apparently predatory Red Bowl sponsorship), and Dirk (as Clarence), employed himself into Barry's Salon upstairs just so he can maintain his more eccentric lifestyle. Hoove volunteered to take Harper's intial job of ticket master just so he can pay his rent at the Washroom Closet and not be forced to relocate to the much more costly rent at the Lavish Lodgings in the Bedroom.

Not to mention, Sinclaire knew that he was only as comfortable as he was due to having work at four spots of the Housedom. Most objects weren't so lucky.

The Sink glanced at his notes, written on it the expenditures of the week so far, amounting to about 8750 Money. In a perfect world, Sinclaire believed that tickets and performing and all manner of good art didn't need to cost anything. That homes would be free to live in. That nutrition and care were freely given.

It wasn't long when Celia, Florence, and the Stackables returned to view. Washford didn't hide his clearly soured mood, while Drysdale maintained his pleasantries with a mildly strained smile.

"You know, ladies," Drysdale said before sending the two out through the Door, "We would really appreciate some compensation of sorts during future visits. I get that you busy yourselves with enough formalities as it is, but it's not one we here at the Laundry Room are granted often. I mean, you know that well, you're literally part of the House's Foundation."

"W-We'll keep that in mind," Florence had replied first. It was unknown if her apologetic words were deliberate or instinctual, but Sinclaire knew the Floor well enough to know that her sincerity could be easily twisted by things beyond her. It had certainly happened before.

"Yes," Celia added, "I'd like to apologize again for the suddenness of our visit. If the Human ever comes by to visit the Laundry Room, we'd be happy to discuss... that over tea in a future meeting."

Drysdale barked out a clearly fake laugh, "Of course, of course. Until later!"

As the Door slammed behind the two visitors, the Stackables began briskly walking in circles around each other in distress. As they did, Washford brought his hands to his temples, humming in frustration, while Drysdale began shaking his head angrily, hands on his hips.

Before Sinclaire could ask, Washford immediately caught the Sink looking at him and his partner.

"How much did you hear?" He asked Sinclaire, his dialogue breaking Drysdale from his movements.

"Enough to form a rumor, but not a report," Sinclaire replied, keeping his tone as neutral as possible, "How much have they raised the rent?"

"They're demanding a three percent increase," Drysdale said to the Sink, clearly stressed thinking about any big numbers of sorts.

"Which means they're asking for fifteen percent of the Circus's earnings now," Washford counted in his head. Sinclaire had observed that Washford was better with keeping up with Money talk (and it's no secret to everyone in the Washroom how much gentler he is with Monique whenever she got caught into random cycles).

"Why must we even have an Election at this rate?" The Dryer mused out in frustration, "Every year Celia runs, every year she is unopposed, and every year she wins! How on Earth does the Human being able to speak to us make her want to raise the rent more than usual?"

"It is as you said, Drydee," The Washing Machine sighed out wistfully, "The person who actually owns this entire House is now someone we can acknowledge. It's the discovery of new land, of new horizons, as we know, that make kings and emperors alike, hungry and terrified. More than they should be, frankly."

Sinclaire nodded subconsciously, in agreement with the Washing Machine.

Drysdale had a pensive expression on his face, clearly more concerned about Celia's character, "Do you really think the change will be that great, Washy?"

"As great as the tainted tides that make me tumble."

"Well," Sinclaire interrupted, pondering on the implications of the tax raise in real time, "if the HOA is raising the cut from us, we should expect the same to happen to everyone else in the coming days, assuming the cut hasn't been raised in some establishments already. Whenever that all happens, it'll likely be done just in time for the Party Registration period to end. You know, when all expected candidates would've acquired all necessary funds for campaigning."

"Don't tell me we have to raise the ticket prices again..." Washford mumbled out loud.

"Good heavens!" Drysdale blanched at the implications, "We just raised them six months ago! And poor Hoove, I know he got the brunt of the complaints for that."

"You still haven't compensated him for it, by the way," Sinclaire cut in.

"Damn it!" Drysdale exclaimed.

"Sinclaire," Washford groaned, "Could you call in everyone? I think it's clear to all of us that a meeting is in order."

And so he did, gathering all the available members of The Cycle Circus together so they can discuss the financial changes.

The Homeowner first made themselves known to Sinclaire in the Laundry Room. They clearly smelled like they had just eaten dinner—a fancier than usual dinner too, if the whiff of basil and oregano was of any indication. The meeting had just ended with everyone having dispersed, and the Human’s presence only extended the sense of unease that the Stackables, the last few objects besides the Sink that were still in the area, had about what was to come.

They were scrolling on their Phone as they entered, clearly reading something with so much concentration that they nearly bumped into Washford and Drysdale, who moved out of their way.

As the Door behind clicked close, they looked up and around, blinking at what was a clear realization of blindly walking into the Washroom space. They paused when they caught the Stackables staring at them.

1. "Is this where the Cycle Circus is supposed to be?"

2. "Yo."

"I'm afraid we're not open right now, my dear," Drysdale replied, "Our shows are during the morning!"

"It's preferable not to compete with the Theater," Washford added, "Or earn Chairemi's ire."

1. "I see. I suppose I can come back tomorrow, then?"

2. "Oh no, I wanted to get to know the performers better."

3. "Is Chairemi threatening the Circus?"

"As much as coffee can threaten tea," Washford replied, "Our relationship with the Playhouse Props Theater Troupe is as well and good as a sunny sky, free from the loud whistling of troubled winds and any whiff of petrichor. Your concern, nonetheless, is appreciated either way."

"What brings you here to our lovely little space?" Drysdale asked.

1. "I meant to see a show. It seems I'll have to come back tomorrow."

2. "I wanted to speak to the Circus performers! Perhaps conduct my own personal set of interviews."

"We are deeply sorry that you couldn't catch the show earlier," Drysdale began to gesticulate more in his dialogue, "Tydus and Ronaldini's performances are always very popular ones."

"Are they not performing anymore?" The Homeowner asked the Dryer.

"Oh, they still are," Drysdale chuckled warmly, "but not in a long while. They're much more high-maintenance than Washy and I, and believe me. We're very high-maintenance."

1. "How long do I have to wait?"

2. "What can I expect for tomorrow's show, then?"

"That would be Harper and Dirk's Juggle and Shuffle routine," Washford said, "An act we hope you'd enjoy should you come to see it."

1. "Are there any other acts I can look forward to?"

2. "I'll think about it."

3. "That sounds sick! Do I, uh, buy tickets or something?"

"Sinclaire!" Drysdale called out to the Sink, who had been watching the conversation unfold, "Do you think we can make the Human a permanent VIP?"

At that, the Homeowner looked at Sinclaire, surprised to be acknowledged at the moment.

"A-After what we just discussed?" The Sink managed out, then turned to the Homeowner, "Uh, I don't mean anything by it, mind you. Things have been more costly for everyone as of late."

1. "You guys have a currency?!"

2. "Damn, even my furniture can't escape the exploitative claws of Capitalism!"

3. "Shit. Maybe I can help in some way?"

"If you mean to alleviate the Circus's financial situation," Washford said to them, "the most you can do is endorse our performances. It's no obligation, but if you insist..."

1. "Of course. I'll do just that."

2. "I'll figure out something better that'll help you, just watch me!"

3. "There's no need for all that. Considering I was recommended to come over here, your clearly endorsed enough by everyone."

"Thank you very much, cherub," Drysdale smiled, "We can't wait to see you tomorrow."

Before the Homeowner could reply, the lenses of the strange Glasses they were wearing began to flicker.

"Looks like I'm running out of charge," They tapped at the edge of the rims, "I guess this is goodbye for now."

With that, they removed the Glasses and stood in a particular shock right afterwards. They glanced at the gadget in their hands, then around the Washroom, clearly unable to see Sinclaire or the Stackables in their field of vision.

Sighing, they left the Washroom.

Once they were gone, Sinclaire turned to Washford and Drysdale.

"If I were you, I'd tell Harper and Dirk to get ready."