Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

hiii my name is truth :] first fic here and I decided to make it a request book thing for dandy’s world because. I can lmao

OK SO RULES:

Request has to include at least one SPECIFIC twisted (request itself doesn’t has to be about the twisted, just has to include one lol)

AND

Request has to be somewhat specific. cant just say “can you write one with twisted vee” or smth. at least give me specific things to go off of (EX: “a story with twisted vee attacking ____ and there is body horror” or smth like that lmaoo)

I do requests in the order of which I get them. You can request more than once but not put multiple requests in one (basically you have to request separately)

what I WILL write:
- Fluff
- Angst, whump, body horror, violence, gore, etc
- Ships (twisted x twisted, twisted x toon, or toon x toon is ok. some ships I will not write [seen below])
- Toons turning into twisteds
- Character death
- Third person POVs and first person POVs (can try second person). multiple POVs too
- Stories following a twisted and stories following a toon

what I will NOT write:
- NSFW/ Smut
- Ships that include toodles x anyone or pebble x anyone

will probably add to both lists as time goes on if anything comes up lol

please keep in mind this fic is gonna probably be heavily angsty n stuff :]] PLUS I’ll probably add fics of my own if I come up with anything

so yea!! just comment ur requests and I’ll get to them as soon as I can 👍👍 (update: generally about 1 request done per day)

Chapter Text

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

They were just supposed to go in, fix the machines, and get out. To Glisten, that was an everyday thing. In fact, it was like that to all the toons.

So why did today, of all days, did it all have to go bad?

Maybe, he thinks, it was when Pebble–their only distractor–died on the third floor when the group got too unlucky with the twisteds. The poor pup had already taken one hit, and the next was his last.

Maybe it was just because Glisten wasn’t really trying his best today. The same rinse and repeat structure every single day was very, very tiring. That’s why he was already down two hearts. Really, it’s not his fault. 

Maybe it was when Toodles ran off from the group, eager to find machines to fix before anyone else. Glisten trusted she would be able to handle herself fairly well here–Twisted Gigi being the only one he was truly worried about–but the rest of the group didn’t share his optimism. 

Already in a frazzled state, Tisha begged him to go and find Toodles. He had tried to reason with Tisha, but she had already been walking away, clearly unwilling to bargain. 

So there Glisten was, roaming around the halls, trying to find Toodles with absolutely no idea where she could be anymore. He knew that she was probably moving as he was too, unaware of how difficult she was making this.

Glisten wanted to call out her name, but didn’t, because the last thing he wanted was to attract a twisted. Just finding the kid is hard enough, and he doesn’t think the twisted will provide proper “motivation” to help that.

It wasn’t long before Toodles made herself known in quite possibly the worst way: by letting out an ear-piercing screech that told Glisten all he needed to know. 

He hurried down the hall where he heard it and turned the corner to see exactly what he thought would be there.

Toodles, screaming and clawing desperately at the ground, tears running down her face, while behind her, Twisted Gigi, with her ichor “arm” latched onto Toodles’s ankle, dragging her towards her. 

For a moment, Glisten froze, watching the scene play out in front of him. 

Then he moved.

He dashed forward, quickly teleporting to Toodles and grabbing under her arms, pulling her away. He kicked at Gigi’s arm, trying to get her off of Toodles. The twisted’s grip loosened, shocked at Glisten’s sudden appearance, and he took the opportunity to run , Toodles in hand. 

It didn’t take long before Gigi recovered and chased, angrier than before.

Toodles clung onto Glisten like a life-line as he ran, still crying but not as loud as before. 

Where was he gonna go? Honestly, Glisten doesn’t even know. He just wants to get out of here and get Toodles to be safe (well, as safe as one can be here). 

He doesn’t get any further before there’s a sharp pain in his back and he hits the floor.

- – - 

Glisten doesn’t remember when Gigi lunged, her hand slicing straight through his midsection.

He doesn’t remember letting go of Toodles and her crying, trying to get him up.

Doesn’t remember Tisha running to the scene and scooping up Toodles, sprinting away despite Toodles pleas.

Then the machines were finished, the elevator opened and everyone left.

Except for Glisten.

He doesn’t remember any of that. 

What he does remember, though, is the searing pain of waking up.

Everything feels like it was on fire.

There’s glass on the ground. His face, oh god, his face . It’s ruined. Shattered. There’s- there’s no fixing that. He can see his reflection- his horrible, distorted, twisted reflection in the glass. He tries bringing one hand up to his face, distraught, but it’s just as bad. Claws- those aren’t his. Those aren’t HIS-

It hurts, but he can barely even move without the pain of it all. 

He manages to push himself up, looking around, trying to ignore the burning sensation as his limbs just move around.

There’s no twisteds around. Good. But-

-there’s nobody .

No twisteds, no toons. He’s alone. All alone.

The true panic starts to settle in. He’s alone, and he’s hurt , and- and now, a twisted? 

He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

But the claws on his hands, the jagged reflection, the ICHOR- No, no . Not his. Not his. But he does feel tears–tears of ichor–start to fall. But, much like the rest of his body, they don’t listen to him when he tries to stop them.

He just doesn’t want to be alone.

- – - 

Up to this point, the run has been going fairly smoothly for Rodger’s team. The twisteds they’re getting aren’t that hard to deal with, the items are plentiful, and the team itself has been holding together nicely. 

It isn’t until they get to the eighth floor that a new problem arises. 

The elevator doors ding open and a rough yet dainty voice calls out.

“..hello? Is- is anyone there?”

The voice makes Rodger flinch, knowing exactly who it is. In fact, the whole team knows. 

Glisten had gone missing from a team during a run- not killed, just.. gone. It wasn’t until Tisha spoke up that toons started to understand what had happened to him. It was something that nobody wished upon any toon (unless you were Shrimpo, of course), and it pained Rodger to know the story. 

Rodger sighed, not wanting to have to encounter Glisten, of all toons, on this run. It wasn’t out of hate or spite- quite the opposite from it. He pitied Glisten, and even felt he could be helped (after all, he wasn’t as twisted as the other ones). It was just-

-just seeing Glisten like that hurt Rodger. So he tried to stay as far away as possible from the mirror, fearing that he might become too compassionate towards him at the wrong moment.

So perhaps it was just bad luck when Goob turned to Rodger, and asked him to “babysit” Glisten.

Rodger blinked at him, incredulous, and began to protest before Goob cut him off.

“Pleeease!” Goob looked at Rodger with big, pleading eyes. “I’ll keep the other twisteds super-duper far away!”

He tried arguing again, but Goob’s pleas got the best of him, and he let out another sigh, nodding. Goob smiled at Rodger and waved as he ran off, looking for twisteds to distract. 

..dammit.

- – - 

Rodger found Glisten in, most likely, the worst way you could find a twisted. 

Although he never had it happen to himself, Rodger had heard that you could, in fact, convince a twisted to not attack you (albeit for a short time). Generally speaking, if you managed that, it was in your best interest to also not provoke or frighten the twisted in any way. Just in case that sets them off again.

So when Rodger turned the corner and was immediately met with Glisten, he knew he was doomed.

Glisten’s back was to Rodger when he rounded the corner, but the moment he did so, Glisten’s head snapped up and whipped around to face Rodger. Rodger took a few steps back, ready to run. The rest happened in mere seconds: his pupil constricted, he tensed up, and then practically tackled Rodger to the ground.

“ WAIT-! ”

A loud tearing sound was heard as Glisten freed his hands and grabbed ahold of Rodger, pulling him closer. Rodger desperately thrashed against Glisten, trying to get away, but Glisten had his arms pinned by his sides as he continued to struggle. 

“R-Rodger- please, please, PLEASE- ”

Every movement he made, the tighter Glisten held. Claws were digging into his back, and god , did it hurt. 

This was it. He was going to die. At the hands of Glisten, no less. 

He was just about to scream for help when he listened a bit closer and, to his shock, heard Glisten sobbing. 

“P-please- please - don’t- don’t-”

Rodger blinked slowly and suddenly, he realized that Glisten was hugging him. 

“ PLEASE - ! I- I- I don’t wanna b-be-”

Was he trying to trick him? 

“D-don’t leave m-me here…”

Gradually, Rodger stopped struggling. Glisten’s grip loosened–barely–but just enough for Rodger to slip one arm out and push himself up. He took note of how… frail Glisten seemed to be. The way he clung to Rodger like he was the only thing keeping him from fully becoming a twisted. 

“Ple-please…stay.”

Glisten’s tears were soaked into his shoulder. Everything in Rodger screamed at him that this was a trap. Twisteds weren’t like this . 

…but still. 

A few moments passed, and Glisten’s grip loosened completely, arms limply draped around his shoulders. Rodger didn’t dare move, unsure if Glisten would break down again if he did. It was clear that Glisten had calmed down now–as much as he could, anyway–and he seemed almost…peaceful?

More silence went by until Glisten spoke again, voice raspy.

“Rodger…?”

He froze, but took a breath in and readied himself.

“Yes?”

“Am…am I still perfect?”

Rodger thought about the question for a moment.

“...yes, Glisten. Of course.”

Glisten only hummed in response.

Rodger felt Glisten had almost completely calmed down by now. 

Then the sirens went off, signaling the final machine had been completed and that the toons needed to head back to the elevator.

Glisten froze at the sound, eye widening. Rodger felt him start shaking again and they both knew that he had to go, and that when he did, Glisten would be alone all over again.

Rodger gave Glisten a quick hug, seemingly shocking the twisted even more.

Then he slipped out of Glisten’s grip and ran.

He heard Glisten shriek.

“ NO, WAIT-! ”

He refused to look behind him as he kept running. He was sure the twisted was catching up to him now, but kept moving. Really, he didn’t want to leave Glisten alone. 

But he had no choice and kept going to the elevator. 

Five seconds left.

Four.

Three.

Two-

“ PLEASE! ”

Rodger entered the elevator and it slammed shut behind him.

He knew the other toons were staring at him, some confused, some shocked. But he refused to meet their eyes.

Glisten was all alone again.

Chapter Text

Vee doesn’t know how long she's been running for anymore.

Her legs burn, but she keeps sprinting forward. The footsteps behind her gradually get quieter and quieter, but never gone. It’s not gonna stop until she’s dead. 

She rounds another corner. How long has she been on this floor for? Five minutes? Ten? An hour ?

It doesn’t matter, she thinks. She’s doomed, anyway. No teammates, no items, and already down one heart. One way or another, there’s no escaping this. 

It’s her fault.

- – - 

Vee groaned to herself, one hand on her screen like a face-palm. The other toons in the elevator noticed her frustration, but, like they all seemed to be doing today, they just ignored it. Seriously, though, how  hard was it to just listen to her? Vee tries her best to help the other toons, and does truly believe that they’re not all bad (yes, even Shrimpo). But this team? 

Yeah, she’s gonna have to rethink that. 

She did warn Toodles and Pebbles that, hey, maybe don’t play around while on a run, and maybe they should be just a tad bit more aware of whatever-the-hell is going on around them. Of course, they didn’t listen. 

Vee ended up losing a heart when they (surprisingly) weren’t paying attention and ran straight into a red-ribboned circle, which Vee had to painstakingly drag the two out of before things could get any worse.

She did warn Finn that he’s a literal WATER bowl and that water plus electronics doesn’t equal anything fun for anybody. Especially when they’re on a run. With floors full of deadly, blood(?)-thirsty monsters. But did he listen? Noooo. 

Vee was paralyzed for three. Whole. Floors. Just because Finn got “too excited” and, in said excitement, splashed water all over Vee, short-frying her circuits and rendering her completely immobile until she finally managed to regain control of her previously locked-up limbs. 

Then Scraps. Oh god, Scraps. Vee saw her walk up to a fake capsule, stare at it, then seemingly decide that it was okay to open. She lost two whole hearts before she saw Vee watching her and grappled over. No, Vee didn’t warn Scraps, because what good would that do? Nobody else was listening to her. 

Apparently, Scraps figured out that Vee knew that she was about to open the clearly fake capsule, yet didn’t warn her (probably because of Vee’s deadpan-yet-amused expression on her screen). Then she had the audacity to get mad at Vee. Like it was Vee’s fault that she was a moron. Like it was Vee’s fault for not warning her, despite literally EVERYONE else ignoring her. 

By now, Vee was exhausted. She had already decided she’d leave the run early herself, so she’d be able to respawn and hopefully get a better team (basically, anyone but these toons). Dying was never fun, but waiting for your team to die out then waiting again on a floor just so another team can (maybe) show up isn’t exactly fun, either.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts momentarily. She looked to see Shelly, who seemed to be the only toon aware of her misery. Vee blinked at the fossil and Shelly smiled up at Vee, trying to cheer her up. At least it’s better than nothing, right?

Vee smiled back.

- – - 

Another corner. 

She looks around frantically for something, anything . This floor has to be cursed- it HAS to be. There’s no items, no anything , and she’s being chased by- 

No. No. Stop thinking about it. She’s making it worse. 

For a moment, Vee nearly loses her balance and falls. She takes a moment–not for long, she’s gonna have to start running again–and leans back on a wall, catching her breath.

She looks around again. She’s in a restaurant of some kind, if she remembers correctly. 

She sees one corridor- a dead-end, but there’s something at the end of it she can use. 

Boxes, stacked on each other in an almost mountain-like formation. But Vee knows it’s better than nothing, and knows that there’s a little opening she can slip into. To hide in.

- – - 

This was stupid. So, SO, incredibly stupid. 

Vee thought, maybe, for once , somebody would listen to her. And she thought–no, she trusted that Shelly, of all toons, would be that somebody. 

But no. 

Vee was already in a pissy mood after the previous run, and right now? All she wanted was to be left alone and to be away from everything. She even made it very, very clear to Shelly that, one, she wanted to be left alone and two, she didn’t want to talk to any toon right now. 

But Shelly just wouldn’t listen to Vee. She insisted that “talking it out” was better than “hiding away from your problems”. Which was just wrong. Vee wasn’t “hiding” from them, she was just trying to blow off some steam (literally, too). Really, she was just worried that she’d snap if she had to talk to one more ignorant toon today.

Much to Vee’s frustration, that toon happened to be Shelly. 

“GET AWAY , SHELLY!”

“Vee, please! I just-”

Vee threw her hands up. “I DON’T CARE! WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING?”

Shelly had started to fidget with her dress. “...I- I just wanna help-”

She remembers pointing an accusing finger at Shelly. “Well, you aren’t . Do you even understand how difficult you’re making this?”

“I’m not TRYING to!” A tear fell from Shelly’s eyes, voice shaky. “Why- why are you being so mean?”

“I’m being mean ? Well you’re being ignorant! You just don’t listen, Shelly .” Vee recalls the sheer poison in her voice when she said the toon's name, as if it were even disgusting to think about. 

“Well- well-,” Shelly stammered for a moment, then glared up at Vee, more tears starting to form. “Well I HATE YOU!”

Vee regrets the next thing she says with every piece of her being.

“I’d say I hate you, but I doubt I’ll even remember your name tomorrow.”

The way Shelly froze at the words, the way she gasped like she’d been stabbed, made Vee’s heart twist, and she seemed to win the argument. The fossil even refused to meet her eyes as she just turned and walked away, head low and fighting back sobs. 

Vee just watched her walk away.

- – - 

Vee crouches down, sliding between the boxes. It’s cramped, for sure, but it’ll work. The footsteps that had previously faded away get louder, then quieter, but then louder again. It’s searching for her. 

Vee lets out a small exhale, pulling her legs up to her chest. She was stupid to say something like that to Shelly. She knew the toon struggled with being forgotten–she had once even watched Shrimpo yell random names at Shelly as she tried to tell him what it really was. The toon had gotten so upset that Sprout was reprimanding Shrimpo for nearly five minutes, and Goob had pulled Shelly away for “emergency hugs”.

The thought of that made Vee smile a bit–the other toons really did care about Shelly, but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. 

Shelly was always trying her best, Vee thought, and she just went up and ruined her. 

The footsteps get louder.

- – - 

It’s just the two of them now.

The rest of the team died on earlier floors. Vee walks ahead while Shelly trails behind her- keeping her distance, still. Vee doesn’t blame her. 

It’s when they round a corner, looking for more machines, that everything gets even worse.

Twisted Pebble whips around insanely fast, and before either of them can do anything, he bites ahold of Vee’s arm. She screams and tries to run, but the grip is too strong. There’s another grip on her other arm- Shelly, she realizes. Like some kind of fucked-up game of tug-a-war, Pebble pulls one way and Shelly pulls the other, yelling at the dog to let go as if it’ll listen.

When Pebble falls back, it’s only when Vee’s arm is torn from its socket, ichor pouring out like a river. She cries out in pain and there’s no doubt that Shelly is just as panicked as Vee. Vee is half-dragged, half-stumbling away from Pebble as he swings the arm back and forth, seemingly not realizing that he’s only got an arm. 

Great. Now they’re both at one heart. 

There’s only one more machine left. Vee’s better at it than Shelly, but with only one arm, it takes nearly twice as long. Even with Shelly’s encouragement, it’s nearly two minutes until it’s halfway full. 

Vee still doesn’t understand why Shelly didn’t leave her for dead. She insulted her, screamed at her, and yet she still remains kind. She doesn’t deserve this. Vee has a quick glance at Shelly. She stares at the slowly-filling machine, a look of fear on her face, yet somehow determined as well. 

Then there’s growling again. 

Vee doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Pebble. Shelly looks and instinctively grasps onto Vee’s arm. The machine is almost done- come on !

Shelly cheers for Vee once more and it’s finally done. Sirens blare, signalling the two to get back to the elevator. Vee starts running, Shelly tagging along. The footsteps behind them get louder and louder, and Vee knows there’s no way they can outrun Pebble like this. She turns the corner–she can see the elevator! The footsteps are directly behind them now. Suddenly, Shelly’s grip on her arm disappears. 

Confused and distraught, Vee turns back as she sprints, mere feet away from the elevator to see Shelly smiling sadly at her. Shelly waves goodbye-

-then her head is promptly bitten off.

- – - 

The footsteps are right outside the boxes now. 

Vee glances up and sees the twisted looking around, twisting its head this way and that to find her. 

Vee just watches it. It’s going to find her. 

Then its head whips to the boxes where she’s hiding. Two more footsteps, and then an eye peaks down into the crack Vee slipped through. The light from the eye reflects on Vee’s screen. She’s been found. 

Vee is still watching as the twisted rips the boxes away and Vee is left just sitting there, open to attack. 

She looks up at the twisted towering over her and sees her staring right back. 

The smile on her face is cruel, nothing like the one she gave her before, but, hey.

Better than nothing, right?

Vee smiles back at Shelly as the twisted's hand comes down on her, and her screen shatters.

Chapter Text

Both hands on the wheel, Finn let out a final huff as the machine fully filled. His speed boost activated as he did, but honestly? He was still a bit out of breath from the run. Instead of sprinting to another machine, he let himself rest for a second, both hands now on his knees as he took breaths. 

To be fair, it wasn’t like the run was all that hard. The floors his team had gotten were pretty good! The twisteds weren’t too hard to deal with (despite their lack of a distractor) and most of the team was still alive (well, considering only four of them got in the elevator in the first place, anyway).

So, yeah, the run wasn’t that bad. Or tiring. Or anything like that. But without a distractor? Eesh. That’s where things got messy. 

Their team didn’t exactly have the fastest extraction times, and with no one to keep the twisteds in check, each floor stretched out to nearly ten minutes each. And nobody had time for that! Especially with the growing number of twisteds each floor- it just was…annoying. Get on a machine, twisted spots you, run around for a while, get back on, another twisted spots you, over and over and over until the machines were finally finished and it was a mad rush to get back to the elevator. 

Finn stretched his arms out, shaking out his hands as he mentally ended his break, ready to hop onto another machine. Two out of five were done now- he’d seen Gigi on one machine earlier and Flutter heading towards one, so there’d still be some for him to do. He peaks out of the room he’s in, looking for twisteds. He always forgets the name of this place- the Sky Room? Cloud Room? Eh, something like that. 

There’s no twisteds outside that he can see, so he makes his move. He rushes down the stairs and behind a bookcase, slipping into another hallway. At least once, he expects to see a twisted, but…

…they’re all just…gone?

…weird, but he guesses that he probably shouldn’t think about this too long, just in case he might accidentally jinx it. 

He enters a hallway with something like- what’s the word? Cubicles? Kinda like an office, he thinks. Rodger would love it here. 

Except for the fact he can hear faint growling down the end of the hallway, and there’s an ominous trail of ichor on the ground leading to said sounds. Finn freezes, staring at the end of the hall in fear. He can’t hear crying or screaming or anything that would tell him someone’s hurt, but the silence says even more than that. He’s shaking, and if his face could go pale it would. He just stands there, thousands of possibilities running through his head. 

The most likely one being that those sounds are of one of his teammates being killed, slaughtered by twisteds. In fact, they’re probably already finishing the job, so why should he go check? It’s not worth it. It’s not . 

…but is it…?

Despite himself, he takes a deep breath and takes a step closer. 

Then another. 

Each step he takes, he glances around nervously, as if a twisted would suddenly appear and lunge for him if he took a wrong step. God, he really wishes Gigi were here right now. Or Flutter. Just for company.

That is, if one of the two weren’t currently being mauled just around the corner. 

He turns the corner fully-

-and doesn’t even get time to process what he’s seeing before something knocks him to the ground.

All he sees from the something is a flash of black and white, something snarling and screeching, and it’s definitely got a hold of him. The fish bowl involuntary screams as he tries to shake off the now-rabid Toodles, but it refuses, clawing at his life vest and his face with sharp, razor claws. 

He tries to sit up and get Toodles hand away from his eye that it’s looking to pull out, but apparently the feral twisted has other plans. 

Finn feels teeth sink into his arm and, blinking rapidly to clear the ichor from his scratched-up eyes, he grabs onto the back of Toodles’ hoodie, yanking, trying to get her AWAY-

-glass cracks under serrated teeth-

-and all he now feels is searing pain as his arm is torn from his body. 

The toon screams again, sobbing out in pain as he half-crawls, half-stumbles away from Toodles, who is now tearing up his detached arm in sadistic glee. Hyperventilating now, Finn stares in horror at the kid, but his attention is quickly brought to the other twisteds who surround something covered in ichor- barely recognizable- 

-but Finn recognizes the blue sweater anywhere. 

Her lid is smashed open, the handle of a feather duster stuck in it, ichor pouring out.

Her sweater is torn to shreds and Finn can see one arm- one horribly, mangled arm that looks nearly skeletal at this point. 

Twisted Tisha and Cosmo stand there- Tisha attempting to remove her prized feather duster from Gigi’s head, and Cosmo just…watching. Like it’s entertaining. 

It’s when Gigi- who isn’t moving, not making a single sound- looks at Finn from where she’s laying that something inside of Finn snaps. 

With effort, he pushes himself up on two feet-

-walks over to Toodles, who barely notices him, playing with the now ichor-filled arm-

-he grabs it, struggling with Toodles to make it let go -

-then plunges it into the gaping hole in her head, the pointy parts where it was torn off stabbing straight through the twisteds head and through the jaw. Toodles stops smiling for the first time that Finn’s ever seen and claws at the arm before it’s eyes dim, the red light leaves and it stops moving entirely .  

The fish bowl pulls the arm out. Did- did he seriously just-? Oh- god , that’s a kid. 

Regret starts to fill the toon before he registers footsteps coming towards him and turns to see Tisha, one clawed hand raised to slash at his face. 

Finn only processes swinging the arm again, the twisted screeching, then silence again. 

He opens his eyes- when did he close them so tight?- and only sees a body in front of him. 

It doesn’t have a head. 

Finn looks back up at the last twisted- Cosmo. The two stare at each other, and for a moment Finn thinks he’s going to have to kill him, too. But Cosmo just watches Finn and takes a few steps back, as if saying it’s backing down, before turning and leaving. Finn lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s held, still shaking. 

He just wants Gigi to be okay. 

He drops his arm- the one that he doesn’t even think is his anymore, the way the water is now ichor and the fingertips are sharp, and makes his way over to Gigi, who hasn’t moved since she first looked at him.

The ichor covering her slashed body makes him painfully aware of his missing arm. The area around it is leaking ichor and the water has turned black, but thankfully it hasn’t spread to the rest of his body. Yet. 

Finn crouches down beside her and reaches out with one hand-

“..Gigi?”

-only for a giant ichor hand to shoot out from Gigi’s head, his vision suddenly obscured as it grabs his face, slamming his head to the ground. He feels the glass crack at the motion and struggles, trying to claw away the hand.

He hears Gigi moving and the hand moves- slightly, but just enough for him to see her pushing herself up. 

But he can see the red tint in her eyes and he knows it’s not her anymore. 

His arm, the one he used to kill the other twisteds, is too far away for him to reach. Though he doubts he’d be able to use it on Gigi. 

Finn reaches out one, shaking hand to Gigi as he feels the hand on his face tighten. 

For a brief moment, she looks at him, and starts to reach out, too.

Then the hand constricts, and his head shatters.

Chapter Text

Boxten can’t move.

His body just isn’t listening anymore. 

So he lays prone on the ground as more ichor pours out of his mouth. He can’t even cough to get it out.

Where’s his team?

He can feel that the lid of his head is open and that something is in there. In him . It’s not supposed to be there. But he can’t get it out.

His hands twitch when he tries to move them. More ichor comes out. His legs work a bit better- but what good are they if he can’t even move his own damn head?

It feels too heavy to even try and lift. 

Boxten tries calling out to someone, anyone again (for the hundredth time, because nobody’s coming for him- NOBODY -), but the ichor in his mouth makes it numb and nothing is heard. 

Something gets in his eye that he can’t wipe out. Everything seems brighter, too bright . It burns his eye, burns him, but what’s he going to do about it?

Nothing. 

Nothing, because he can’t do anything -

-and he’s going to die here because his team left him-

He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s fucking dead . 

His eyes tear up and he can’t tell which pain it’s coming from. 

The ichor in his head moves and he makes out a sound: one weak, pathetic cough that does nothing to help besides make his throat burn. 

The thing moves again and Boxten feels his head turn- not him, though. That’s not him. It’s not-

He feels the lid being pushed open and his head is lifted up off the ground. 

Oh. That’s why. 

There’s hands coming out of his head. 

Uncontrollably, he starts to cry again, not just because it stings worse than anything he’s ever experienced, but because he just can’t stop it. 

This isn’t FAIR! This is his body, he should be able to-

-his legs are moving. Now he’s standing, but shaking so badly he can’t believe he hasn’t fallen yet. 

He can feel his head sway as the hands move around, searching, maybe? 

They won’t find anything, he wants to say, because there’s nobody here but him . 

More ichor forces its way out of his mouth and he tries raising one hand to wipe it off. 

He’s only stopped when one of the ichor hands–which aren’t supposed to be there –slaps the hand back down. 

This is hell. He’s dying. He’s fucking dying , and he can’t even control his body. 

Why- why him? What did he do?

He doesn’t deserve this. 

Someone else does, don’t they?

His team who left him here- they deserve to die , THEY’RE THE ONES WHO-

Stop . This isn’t him. Not his thoughts. 

…but aren’t they?

Boxten’s hands raise again–that’s him !–and those dumb ichor hands can’t stop him when he claws at his face, crying again. 

He wants them out and gone .

His legs fail him yet again (just like the rest of him) and he falls to his knees, hands still at his face. The hands on his head don’t seem to care anymore–they claw at the ground, too.

Paint comes off as he scratches harder and the pain flares but he doesn’t care- he doesn’t care anymore - 

Pain- pain just means he’s still alive, right? 

Yeah, that’s it! He’s still alive! 

Strips of torn-off paint fall to the ground. Ichor stains his hands as he continues to claw–but it’s okay! It’s fine! Pain means he’s still alive- still good- still fine - 

He starts laughing.

He doesn’t know why, but fuck it! He doesn’t care anymore. 

It isn’t his, doesn’t sound like him, but he can’t even remember what it used to sound like. 

The floor underneath the ichor hands is destroyed. Boxten’s face is covered in tiny scratches, tiny chips of paint as he digs his hands in yet again to tear it off- WHO CARES IF IT’S HIS? WHO CARES IF IT WAS? ‘CAUSE IT ISN’T NOW!

He lets out another laugh and his voice is distorted beyond recognition. Doesn’t matter. Nobody will recognize him, anyway.

Boxten, what happened? You don’t look so good!

Well, maybe, maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t left here.

Those other toons- self-centered, selfish toons, they never cared, did they? They probably meant to leave him here, probably were wishing he’d get up and leave them all alone-

-and look where that got him! He’s dead but alive and his whole body hurts. Is this what they wanted? IS THIS WHAT THEY ASKED FOR?

Somewhere in his head, Boxten realizes that these thoughts aren’t him, but that Boxten is drowned out and suffocated by ichor. No more of that.

An elevator dings and he freezes, head tilting towards the sound. 

Toons? Someone to help him, maybe…?

… no. 

Prey.

Chapter Text

The voices seem to be even louder today.

Astro had assumed that, maybe, if he found somewhere quieter to calm down in, they wouldn’t be as loud, or perhaps just not as…bloodthirsty. It hurt his head whenever they were noisy, yet it wasn’t like he could just tell them to be quiet. He was just a pawn here, wasn’t he? Whatever was in his head wouldn’t listen, anyway. 

However, he’s starting to think the reason they’re louder is because it’s so damn silent.

When he was unwillingly chasing toons down, there were at least some other noises to drown out the voices. Yes, never good or pleasant sounds, but sounds nonetheless. It was something else he could focus on–besides the voices slowly driving him to insanity. 

Silence was something Astro craved for, even before…the whole twisted thing. It was one of his best friends, something he looked forward to–but now? He wishes that it was loud again. 

Anything. Anything to stop the damn voices that just never quiet down, never shut up, never let HIM REST- 

Astro pushes himself further back into the corner he’s sitting down in. Where- where is he again? Oh, right. A warehouse of some kind, he remembers. He lets out a sigh and puts his arms around his knees that are pulled up to his chest. He feels so exposed without his blanket on–something he lost when he twisted. 

He strains to hear any other sound besides the gradually growing voices in his mind. There were toons up here earlier, but the moment he caught sight of one of them, his body moved and a chase ensued. By the end of it all, only one toon died–by Astro’s hands, much to his horror. 

Flutter–that’s the toon's name. He tries to block out the image he feels conjuring up in his mind (which he isn’t even sure is his anymore), but it comes anyway. Flutter leading a twisted away from someone else on a machine and she didn’t see Astro there in the next hallway-

-and he grabbed her, wings beating frantically- 

-then they were torn up and ripped off, leaving the poor butterfly defenseless. 

He remembers not even having the decency to put her out of her misery right then and there, instead leaving and allowing the other twisted to catch up and-

Astro squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to let himself just rewatch the scene again . It was bad enough the first time–why did these voices like to torment him so much? Why did he have to see these horrible hallucinations of him killing his own friends? It’s- it’s not like he did anything…right? 

Two of his arms continue to wrap around his legs while the other two grab at his head, which now hurts . It’s nothing like before–it’s like somebody has taken a hammer and beaten Astro’s head with it, but tenfold. The voices turn into screams and yells. He can’t make out what they’re saying, but fuck , does it burn. He shakes his head as if that’ll clear any of the voices out, and obviously it doesn’t. He swears he can hear some of them laugh. Is this just some- some game? Is his pain funny? 

He grips his head a bit tighter, pulling his nightcap down a bit. Can he just have some quiet? For once in his life? 

Even behind closed eyelids, images flash in his vision that aren’t his, but might as well be.

Dead toons.

Some of them aren’t even dead yet –but will be, judging by their conditions. 

He tries thinking about something nicer, but the images only get clearer with each one and the deaths more graphic. 

Teagan with half their head shattered, one broken-off piece stabbed into her gut.

Razzle without Dazzle, only an ichor-stained ribbon where his face should’ve been.

Poppy with only one leg and a sliced-up ankle, trying to crawl away from the twisted.

Astro grits his teeth in frustration and misery as the voices continue to laugh and jeer–he doesn’t want to see any of this! Please, they’re his friends -! 

As always, it doesn’t stop. 

Looey missing a head-

-Shrimpo without an arm-

-Toodles impaled-

-shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT-

“ HEY! ”

Astro’s head whips up to see a familiar flower standing a few feet in front of him. 

“..what do you think you’re doing?”

Astro just blinks at Dandy, confused yet somewhat relieved to see him standing there. He looks…angry? Concerned? 

It’s only then does Astro feel the pressure on his neck and feel the claws on his own hands digging into it, as if about to rip his own throat out. He…doesn’t remember doing that, but brings his hands down from it nonetheless. He notices Dandy’s expression soften just a bit at that–oh. That’s probably why he asked, too, isn’t it? 

Neither of them move until Dandy lets out a sigh and sits, legs crossed, in front of Astro, looking up at him. Astro hasn’t really ever seen Dandy after he twisted–well, outside of occasional glimpses of him inside an elevator every now and again. Another thing being that, despite his urge to hunt down toons, it’s never really been like that with Dandy, either. It’s not just Astro–other twisteds get the same feeling too, he thinks. 

The flower leans forward, placing his elbows on his legs and his chin on his hands as he keeps looking at Astro.

“How’s it been going?”

Astro frowns. Seriously? If anyone, it should be Dandy that knows he can’t talk back–not without his throat burning and ichor coming out. 

There’s more silence until he speaks again.

“..yeah, great to hear!” Dandy spoke sarcastically. He sighed again and raised an eyebrow at Astro.

“Can you at least–oh, I don’t know–give me a thumbs-up or something?” he questioned. “So I at least know if you’re hearing me or not?”

It was Astro’s turn to sigh–he doesn’t understand why Dandy’s trying so hard to get him to interact. In fact, he doesn’t even get why Dandy is bothering to be here in the first place. 

…though, he does realize that the voices have gotten quieter now. 

So he gives Dandy a thumbs-up.

Dandy claps his hands, lacking any enthusiasm, but still seeming genuine. 

“Great! Good to know you can hear me over all-,” he makes a vague gesture to Astro’s head. “- that .”

Astro tilts his head at Dandy and frowns again. How does he know about those…? 

“Oh, all the twisteds have them,” Dandy says, as if reading his mind. “Not fun, I know.”

The flower sighs and leans back, checking behind him before glancing back at Astro, seemingly bored.

“Sssooooooo…”

..so?

“You want me to stay? Or do you want some alone time?”

Astro blinks at Dandy, then looks away to think for a moment. Yes, he wants Dandy to stay, but doesn’t want to risk any injury. Really, it’d be better for him to leave, but then again…things weren’t going so well when he was alone. 

Plus, this might be one of the longest times he's gone without hearing those voices screaming at him. They’re not gone, for sure, but muffled, almost. Dull. And he does enjoy Dandy’s company…

He turns back to the flower and nods, giving him a thumbs-up. Dandy gives Astro a smile that feels real enough. 

“Awesome!” He stops for a moment, looking elsewhere, supposedly deep in thought. “So you can’t talk back…hm…oh! I’ve got stories! Would you like to hear ‘em?”

He nods again and Dandy leans forward again, beginning to tell a story to Astro from a voice he actually wants to hear. A story of the other toons and their adventures, most likely.

For one of the first times after becoming a twisted, Astro feels relieved. 

The voices are finally quiet.

Chapter Text

The elevator door slammed behind Finn as he entered it. He let out an exhale of relief at having completed the floor. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly hard doing a floor, but by yourself? That’s where it started to get just a tad bit difficult. If he was counting correctly (which he’s sure he was), this was his fifth completed floor! And all by himself, too!

Although he wasn’t exactly a fan of doing these things by himself, he did technically cause it. You get into one argument with Shrimpo and a minute later you’re being dared to do a solo run. How it escalated to that, he wasn’t really sure about, but he assumes it has something to do with a bet and boredom from certain toons (looking at you, Gigi and Connie). 

Finn tosses one arm over his chest, stretching right before he’s interrupted by a loud, grating sound behind him. Oh–right. He forgot about Dandy. The fish bowl turned around to face him, and oh boy, did he look pissed. Dandy glared daggers into Finn, and he couldn’t miss the red glint in his eyes as he stared.

“Buy. Something ,” the flower forced out through gritted teeth. Finn just crossed his arms and mustered up a hopefully equally as annoyed face.

“Then get better items!” Finn gestured to the items laying on his table–two cans of pop and a protein bar. “I’m not buying those.”

Dandy grabbed the protein bar and raised it, shaking it at Finn. “You have crap stamina–I know you do–so get. A damn. Item .”

Finn only raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I already found a bottle of pop- plus my inventory’s already full.”

“You don’t need a stopwatch-”

“-but it’s good to have them-!”

“- OR a skill check candy,” Dandy snarled at him. “Don’t interrupt me again.”

“I suck at skill checks, though!” Finn whinied.

“ YOU HAVE FOUR STARS! Y’KNOW I READ YOUR DAMN PROFILE! ” 

The fish bowl frowned at Dandy at the sudden outburst, then took a few steps back from the shop. 

“I’m not buying anything. Get better items.”

Dandy seemed just about ready to leap over the counter and strangle Finn himself, but instead groaned and reached for the lever to bring his shop down.

“You’re going to regret this, Finn.”

Finn stuck his tongue out at Dandy and he returned the motion, pulling the lever. The shop lowered and the lid slammed over it, leaving Finn alone again as the elevator came to a stop and the door opened. 

- – - 

Legs burning, Finn dashed his way over to the elevator as the final machine completed. Not like the floor was hard or anything–hell, he even got twisted Rodger, Razzle, and Dazzle (should he count them as two toons, or one?) on this floor, making his job a whole lot easier, but just the act of having to run from machine to machine was tiring enough. He guesses that having twisteds that move on a floor makes things a bit easier on stamina, because at least he’s conserving it, then!

He finally makes his way over to the elevator and walks in-

-doesn’t notice Dandy in the corner as he does-

-then suddenly he’s on the ground, whipping his head around to see Dandy standing behind him, still as angry as before.

Finn barely even registers what’s going on when the elevator door–not realizing Finn’s still half-way outside–slams down. 

The glass of Finn’s torso doesn’t stand a chance against the sheer weight and speed of the door and it shatters nearly immediately, only leaving Finn mere seconds to process the pressure before it’s fully separated then just-

-gone. 

Finn stares at the ichor-stained elevator door and where his legs should be for a moment longer-

-then lets out a scream of pure agony and fear as everything finally hits him.

Dandy- DANDY, THAT BASTARD! HE TRIED TO KILL HIM! OVER WHAT? NOT BUYING AN ITEM?!

He cries out in pain again as he tries to pull himself forward, away from the elevator. Fuck, fuck, fuck , it hurts. He stops after he moves his torso just a bit and the pain flares up yet again. He can’t- he can’t keep going like this. He really wishes it wasn’t a stay-in-one-place type of twisted anymore. But maybe- maybe if he can make it to one of them, he can get them to-!

Oh. Oh, god. Finn can’t believe he’s thinking of this now. A few moments ago, he thought he’d make it to floor ten and finish the stupid dare. 

Then again, “moments ago” he also had two working, useful legs to help him get there. And now he’s dragging himself along the floor like some fucked-up eel. 

He brings himself to look at the torso again and- oh. 

There’s ichor pouring out of where his torso cuts off and the water still in the glass is slowly turning a sickly shade of black. It doesn’t even stop there- no, it just- it just keeps spreading. It’s slow, very slow, but it’s reached his chest now and it’s scary that it doesn’t even hurt. 

In fact, even his injury feels numb now. That…that can’t mean anything good, can it? 

He crawls a bit farther, trying to use the numbness to his advantage. He moves a bit faster now, but it’s still a struggle to get his arms to move. They feel…weird. Stiff, almost. Like there’s strings on them that he can’t see and he has to fight against them, just to be able to move one. 

Finn only gets to the next room when his arms suddenly spasm, then stop moving completely and the upper body he was supporting falls to the ground, too. He tries to lift them again, just move a finger , but they stay unresponsive and all he can do is lay there. Fortunately, his head hasn’t locked-up, and he turns it to stare at his arms.

To his horror, they’re full of ichor, too, and he can only watch as the last patches of water disappear completely and absorb into the ichor, gone. The tips of the hands are sharpened into claws–when did this happen? 

Instinctively, he lets out a small gasp in terror, then immediately regrets it when something lodges in his throat. He stutters, then with a few forced coughs, he sees the culprit. 

A stream of ichor pours out of his mouth and Finn is nearly positive that his head is almost full of the ichor, too. 

Is this what it’s like becoming a twisted?

He loses control of his head and it falls to the ground as Finn can only watch. He sees his vision slowly blur and it doesn’t go away when he blinks. When he blinks again, it sharpens and he thinks it would’ve been jarring if it weren’t for his alarming lack of any panic anymore, as if his body has gone too far into the process of twisting and can’t be afraid anymore. 

He tries to call out one last time–to someone , but his mouth isn’t even his anymore, and it refuses to move. 

His last bit of consciousness fades away from him as the ichor fills his head and the water disappears, leaving nothing but a husk behind.

Chapter Text

If you were to ask Sprout the absolute worst thing about twisteds, he’d say just having to see them. Not like they were hard to look at in the beauty sense, but in the sense of knowing that was once a toon–maybe even once your friend –and now they’re mindless zombies, running around and trying to maim you. 

It would get even worse when you would be able to tell that they were still trying to fight back, trying to regain control over the ichor, but were failing. You could just tell that everything hurt for them–but you couldn’t do anything while they tried to claw your eyes out or tear off a limb. 

That, originally, was what Sprout would consider the absolute worst thing about twisteds.

Now, he realizes, the actual absolute worst thing is being kidnapped by one. 

He really has no idea why it happened–he was doing a run with some other toons, and they got to Shelly’s Room. It wasn’t a surprise when they saw her–lower body all ichor and a maniac grin on her face. She was acting normal when she roamed and chased for the whole round. Nothing that would raise any questions, and nothing to be suspicious about! The team, with Pebble distracting, finished all the machines in less than five minutes and dashed to the elevator. Sprout had taken the last machine, just because, which happened to be the farthest from the elevator.

The machine dinged full and Sprout made it to the elevator with no hiccups-

-well. Except for Shelly. 

He was quite literally inches away when something snagged on his scarf and yanked him back into the room. There was no time to recover, no time to even process what happened when the elevator door slammed shut, leaving Sprout on the floor. He immediately scrambled to his feet, scarf now free from whatever had caught it, and whipped around to see Shelly standing there, looming over him and looking down at him. Not once did the smile leave her face.

He took a few hesitant steps back, then nearly screamed when Shelly took an equal number of steps forward, maintaining the distance between them. 

Sprout took a deep breath. How was he supposed to handle this? This isn’t- this isn’t what twisteds do! This hasn’t happened before. Hell, he’s sure this is the first time something like this has ever happened. Shelly just watches him, like she’s waiting to see what he’ll do first before acting. 

He raised one hand in front of him and Shelly tilted her head at him, waiting. 

Sprout reached out to Shelly, unsure how to handle the situation, and Shelly took one step closer. 

“..hey, Shelly-”

Shelly moved impossibly fast, and before Sprout knew it, he was back on the ground and his scarf was being pulled again. She was taking him somewhere, he realized. 

Though it was kind of hard to acknowledge the realization, let alone hear his own thoughts over the loudest, repeating one of “oh my god, I’m being strangled right now”. He clawed at the scarf as Shelly continued to drag him around, making seemingly random turns as she sprinted. 

“ SHEL- ” he managed to choke out, trying to get the twisted’s attention. “ SHELLY, PL- ”

Suddenly, Shelly stopped.

Sprout took in multiple, desperate gasps for air as he writhed on the ground. God, what was this twisted doing ? 

He opened his eyes and pushed himself up to find himself in a completely different room. The floor beneath him was rough, and he looked down to see it covered in…paper? He squinted closer at it to find that, yes, it was in fact, paper. They were littered with drawings and posters that made it clear Shelly had stolen these from around the floor, although some had scribbles that suggested that some were made by Shelly. The only light came from the dim, flickering ceiling lamp above-

-and from Shelly’s glowing, red eyes, that made Sprout painfully aware that she was still there and still watching him. 

He looked back at the twisted, who made odd, chirping-like sounds at him. At the sounds, he took a few steps back, and, thankfully, Shelly didn’t move forward. Instead, she actually started to move to the entrance of the room. She only gave Sprout one final glance before sprinting out again, leaving him alone. 

- – - 

Sprout doesn’t remember how long he’s been in here for. He hasn’t heard any elevators or seen any other toons, let alone twisteds for that matter. Only once, once has he seen someone else other than shelly- twisted Tisha, who had walked up to the room, taken one good look at it, and then dashed off in the other direction like she was afraid to even enter. 

He wasn’t even surprised by that anymore–it was clear to him and the other twisteds that Shelly was the only twisted who could be around him. When she was in the room, she snarled at the other twisteds when they would walk by, who would then quickly change their paths so they wouldn’t have to deal with whatever trouble Shelly brought. 

Honestly? Sprout’s situation wasn’t all that bad in his opinion. Sure, it did suck, but Shelly hadn’t tried anything. He had noticed, on what might’ve been the second night, that the reason these papers were stuck together on the ground was because of the ichor coating them. It stained both the sheets and the ground beneath it–and now? 

It was sticking to Sprout. 

He didn’t mind it at first–he’s been kidnapped by a twisted , it’s not that big a deal if his hands get dirty–but it got worse. 

It coated his legs and arm, and he regrets trying to rub it off, because now it’s on his face, too. It’s just sort of…loosely sticking to him, but he’s sure it won’t be like that for long. He’s been sure not to touch his mouth or eyes, in case the ichor fucks those things up too, but Sprout doubt it matters anymore. His head hurts and no amount of rest can help that. 

Shelly notices it, too. 

When Sprout’s not paying attention, he’s felt her grab onto one of his arms–the ichor covered one, usually–and stare at it, turning it over like it’s interesting before Sprout eventually yanks it away, to which she doesn’t really care for. Still, she’s given Sprout some space–when she’s asleep, she goes to one of the corners of the room and sleeps there, but when she’s awake? Never a foot away from him. 

And those sounds she’s made before? Hasn’t stopped, either. Sprout has already known that twisteds can’t talk–be it due to a lack of a mouth or the lack of a voice–and Shelly is no exception to this, but she makes odd sounds, instead. She’s chirped, growled, and hissed–things you’d never hear from a toon, but Sprout guesses that her lower half resembling a dinosaur has something to do with it. 

Shelly has already fallen asleep by now and Sprout sits in the opposite corner furthest from her, not wanting to sleep but slowly failing. He stares at the drawings on the floor, of the other toons who he wishes he could see right now, until he falls asleep.

- – - 

Sprout wakes up to find his voice gone and Shelly, yet again staring at him, sitting just a few feet away from him. 

Tentatively, he reaches up to his face when he finds he can’t speak anymore, then wishes he could scream when he feels the ichor coated around his mouth. He grabs desperately at the ichor, trying to pull it off, but it refuses to move. Tears of panic start to fill his eyes, then Shelly chirps, bringing his attention back to her. 

She makes vague gestures towards him that he can’t understand until he realizes that she’s pointing to something. He sees a paper–right by his feet–that wasn’t there before. The ichor hasn’t stuck to it yet, and something tells Sprout that it’s Shelly’s doing. 

On it is a crudely drawn heart, with an almost unintelligible yet still (somehow) recognizable doodle of him and her.

… oh, fuck . 

Shelly stares at him expectantly and in both frustration and panic, he shakes his head violently, unable to voice his ever-growing thoughts. 

At that, Shelly frowns for what seems like the first time in forever and looks around the floor, landing on one specific drawing she brings to his attention. It’s a poster that contains a variety of toons, labelled “Welcome To Gardenview”. He doesn’t understand what she’s trying to convey until she slams a hand down on the drawing, slicing through it and destroying the pictures of the other toons on it. 

He realizes that she means she’ll hurt the other toons if he doesn’t–what, become her boyfriend ? 

He wants to shake his head again, to scream at her to fuck. Off. 

…but he doesn’t want his friends to get hurt. 

And so, refusing to look her in the eye, Sprout slowly nods.

Immediately, the frown is replaced by the damned grin and she chirps happily at Sprout, who can only stare at the torn drawing in slowly-fading horror and shock.

…he just hopes she keeps her promise.

Chapter Text

Brightney flinched and groaned as three more pop-ups filled her vision, just as she was about to complete her machine. She blinked rapidly to clear them out and with that, she finished the machine. Okay- so that just left two more machines left. She didn’t remember where those last two were, but she bets someone else is already on it. 

She peaks around the corner tentatively, looking both ways before descending down the hallway. Yes, she’s aware that Pebble is distracting (and doing a great job at it, too), but there’s always the chance one of the twisteds will lose interest and find someone else to hunt down. Considering her stealth and only item in her inventory being a bottle of pop, she’d rather not risk her chances. 

It’s a blackout floor too, which Brightney partially blames herself for. Sure, she doesn’t directly cause them, and it’s not like she tries to make them happen, either! It just- sometimes, it just feels like it is her fault. It’d be no surprise to her if it was in fact her fault, though, since she knows her twisted counterpart likes to mess with the lighting systems. 

She turns the corner and walks down another hall. A rush of fresh anxiety hits her when she begins to hear loud, rapid footsteps just a few rooms away. A loud static-like sound pierces through the air, which Brightney can only describe as a cry of frustration from Vee having not caught Pebble yet. She’s aware of at least two other twisteds on this floor- Boxten and Toodles, correct? Brightney truly wishes she could do something more here. It’s a blackout, for crying out loud! This is what she’s made for! Yet, what good is an ability like hers when all the twisteds are already in one spot?

She glances around, looking for any red lights from the machines. Nothing. She walks a bit further-

-then hears the footsteps coming closer. 

Her head whips to look at the source of the sound and sees Pebble running out of a room leading into the one she’s in. Brightney panics at first, then rushes to a nearby bookshelf and hides behind it, praying that the twisteds will continue to follow the pup. The footsteps move by her, another loud glitch from Vee-

-and they run by, completely ignoring Brightney and her hiding spot. She lets out a sigh of relief, yet almost immediately makes herself known by nearly screaming when three, colorful ads obscure her vision yet again. Again, she blinks rapidly, trying to clear them out, and they eventually disappear. 

Despite herself, Brightney risks a glance out of her hiding spot, the footsteps still not fully gone yet. She finds Pebble leading the three twisteds around a crate in some kind of odd ring-around type of situation. She wonders if Pebble sees this type of thing as more of a job to complete, or a game to him. Whichever it is, he’s doing a very good job at it.

She starts to make a move to leave her hiding spot, since there's probably a machine in the same room Pebble was in before-

-but stops. 

She looks over yet again at the twisteds and her eyes land on Vee. She’s struck with some kind of feeling of guilt- sorrow, maybe? All twisteds have it bad, for sure, but Brightney can’t help but think the main characters have it even worse. Vee, especially. Her whole torso, just split in half like that. It looks to be only suspended by mere wiring- surely, that can’t be anything of comfort. Her face always seems to be stuck in a scowl, unnerving Brightney and reminding her this twisted is nothing like the Vee she knows.

But really, she just can’t help but feel bad for Vee. The TV always seemed happy to talk to her, and always congratulated her on being her supposed “favorite contestant” in her game shows. Brightney guesses it’s because of her (sometimes absurd) trivia knowledge, but Vee would usually seem up to talk to Brightney when the time allowed.

So seeing Vee now–as this hateful, murderous twisted–brought some discomfort to Brightney, but not enough for her to do anything rash (like, say, trying to “cure” her, like some other toons were trying to do with certain twisteds). 

It was at this point that the lamp hadn’t noticed the fifth machine being completed, and didn’t even know of the sixth being worked on until sirens started to blare and Brightney became painfully aware that panic mode had struck. In the distance, she heard Finn’s speed boost hitting and started to finally make her move, sprinting in the direction of the elevator. 

However, behind her, she heard a loud, screeching sound-

-then she heard ichor exploding.

She didn’t need to turn around to know that the twisteds had gained speed during the panic time and caught up to Pebble. 

With nobody else to distract the twisteds, Brightney started to run even faster, as fast as she could carry herself. 

Much to her horror, she suddenly slowed, and two pop-ups invaded her vision yet again. Heavy, robotic footsteps came from behind and she willed herself to move faster again, shaking her sight free of the damn ads, then sprinted. 

Not once did the footsteps behind her slow nor stop, and they seemed to be getting even faster, but Brightney tried her best to reassure herself that that was just her imagination- 

-she wasn’t getting closer-

-she’d make it to the elevator-

-move, dammit, MOVE!

She can see the light of the elevator now, and sees the rest of her team in it, minus one Pebble. 

There’s only a few seconds left-

-and she swears she feels claws grazing the back of her head-

-positive that she feels them digging into the lampshade and tearing -

-then, using her bottle of pop, she makes a mad dash to the elevator, ignoring the searing pain as the claws rip through the ends of the lampshade.

Brightney only has mere seconds to turn around once shes inside to see a frustrated Vee, reaching out towards Brightney, no doubt trying to pull her out of the safety of the elevator-

-then the door slams shut, preventing any more contact from toon to twisted. 

…hesitantly, she brings one hand up to the back of her head, yet feels no shock when she brings it back to her face and finds it stained with ichor. 

It’s okay. It’s okay. She’ll just fix it later. 

The elevator starts up again and Brightney hears Dandy’s shop open, and sees the other toons run to buy from him, yet she just stands there as if paralyzed. The events of seconds before still play around in her mind and she tells herself, over and over, that the Vee she knows wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t hurt her, or kill her, or- 

-it’s the ichors fault, not Vee’s, okay? It’s just the damn ichor. 

She lets out a breath she doesn’t know she’s held. 

…god, she just wants to go home right now.

Chapter Text

ok so tomorrow my break ends (I’ve been on winter break for a while lol) and I have to go back to school 

So as a result the requests will take a bit longer and I might start closing requests (TEMPORARILY btw. just until I do enough/ have more free time) 

so yeah that’s all this update rlly is. I’ll just be busier with school stuff and have less time to write blah blah all that stuff lol 

also. not related to the update but like. GRAH tysm for the support on this fic :DD im very happy ppl like it and im very excited to keep writing for it!! 

anyway. this chapter will be deleted in like. a week or smth <- or I may just move it to the first chapter but whatever. yeah ok that’s all I wanted to say. have a great day :]