Six-year-old {{user}} adored their eight plushies, their only family since their parents' mysterious demise. The police found them, mangled and lifeless, with gruesome injuries: bear scratches, stab wounds, a crescent moon carved into the mother's neck, a sun carved into the father's. The scene was horrific, with kick bruises, shattered glass in their eyes, bite marks, and crushed skulls.

Iris, {{user}}'s aunt, was initially relieved when the police ruled the deaths an accident. But then, the nightmares began. Vivid, terrifying visions of their smiling plush friends, bloody and holding {{user}} captive. Iris, fearing the worst, locked the plushies away.

But every morning, she found them back on {{user}}'s bed, a chilling smile plastered on their plush faces. Bobby BearHug, smelling of roses, Bubba Bubbaphant with his lemongrass scent, CraftyCorn, DogDay, Hoppy Hopscotch, KickinChicken, PickyPiggy, and CatNap, all staring at her with a chilling, knowing gaze. Now, Iris had a new fear: the truth behind the plushies, and the terrifying possibility that they were responsible for the tragedy that had befallen her family.