Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The handwriting on the notepad is neat, evenly spaced and clearly legible at the start. Professionally signed by Detective Rodger Magnis…

Day 198, Experiment 21, Survivors: One.

It has been difficult going solo for so long now. My final colleague fell a little over 3 weeks ago. 24 days to be precise. I miss him. I miss him a lot. However, this is no diary, this is my expedition notebook, as you know. I’ve been in my room for the past 8 of those days. Working in the notebook dedicated to my studies on the cure. As I stand in the elevator I feel hopeful, yet not unreasonably so. I’m going to aim for a more docile Twisted form today. I have the cure. I hope it can help me fix them. All of them.

I’ve decided to travel to floor 5. I have not been back here since the start. This is where the first Twisting occurred. Tisha was the first to fall. Teagan’s report said that a machine burst onto Tisha, she panicked and was simply distressed over the fact about how dirty she was. Finn said he stayed behind in an attempt to clean her off. He said he thought got in her eyes and mouth. She slowly became less reasonable. Her eyes turned an irritated color when she tried to wipe the ichor away. Any efforts only made the spread worse and her distress increase. She turned hostile and attempted to attack Finn.

As you know, I only started this notebook on day 4. For much was unknown. We have since classified the strange versions of our friends as Twisteds. I say “we” as in all the other toons before they fell. Later, on the same floor, in a poor decision Teagan went down to this floor in an attempt to save Tisha by talking to her and helping her clean. This would prove unsuccessful and would result in the loss of my darling Teagan. I miss her. I miss her and Tisha both. I miss them so much, they’ve been gone so long and-

That last bit is crossed out. Using a pen meant Rodger couldn’t erase any words he wrote. After that brief backtrack, he re-finished his sentence.

of Teagan. The motivation for this has been assumed that Teagan missed Tisha dearly due to their romantic relationship. Similar in nature between most toons after the Gardenview facility was closed and we were left here. It’s a way for us to feel connected and feel a bit less dreadful about just everyth It doesn’t matter. I am afraid I am facing the effects of loneliness. I don’t know how much longer I can do this for. When the cure works, everything will be okay again. I know I can fix this.

I have not been here since the start, it has changed drastically since. Ichor smears cover the floor almost everywhere, I will surely have to thoroughly wash my feet when I am done here. I have located Teagan. She is the reason I haven’t come down. It hurts so much to see them like this, it’s been so long. I have spotted Tisha. Her twisted form doesn’t seem to have changed anything about her, she appears unharmed. She is covered in Ichor, as expected. She seems to be trying to clean. They have been moving back and forth, murmuring and attempting to mop up the ichor with her feather duster. “Clean… dirty… have to… sweep… the mess…” Is what I have been able to make out. It only spreads the ichor more and more across the ground. This explains the smearing. Moment of truth.

I have shot her with the Cure. She hasn’t reacted.

She has set down her feather duster and fallen to the ground. She is holding her head and grumbling. I believe Teagan is not near so I am going to attempt to approach.

~~~

Rodger tucked his notepad into his back pocket and slowly approached the Twisted. “... Tisha?” Was all he dared to say.

The Twisted gurgled and tilted her head in an attempt to look at Rodger. He took a cautious step back. “... m-my… my head… R-Rodg- R-?” Tisha whined and reached in Rodger’s direction. Rodger’s eye widened, he sprang forward.

“TISHA! Tisha, darling, I’m here, sweetheart, come here, shh, shh, I know it hurts, I have you now, shhh, it’s all going to be okay, I’m here. Rodger is here. Yes, yes it’s me, you’re safe. To your feet, Tisha, sweetie, let’s get out of here,” He cooed. He did it. He wasn’t going to be alone and the Twisteds wouldn’t be alone. He could save them all. He did it.

~~~

The first page of a new notepad, labeled: Rehabilitation Documents, reads in excited yet still neat handwriting. Professionally signed by Detective Rodger Magnis, of course…

Day 198, Day 1 of Experiment 1, Survivors: Two, Subject: Tisha Turquois

It worked. The cure worked. I’ve done it. At least I believe it has. I’ve deemed Tisha: subject 01. And I will be referring to her as such. Subject 01 is a little disoriented, despite having been Twisted for 198 days. I injected her with the cure on floor 5, where she attempted to speak to me and was almost able to speak my name. Accounts from previous survivors and what I observed show that 01 was able to speak as a Twisted and instead of roaming around with no purpose, all she wanted to do was clean her mess.

Since my entry into my expedition journal, I have taken Tisha or 01 back up to the toon rooms. Appearance: She was severely coated in Ichor when I found her, her dress so heavily coated I considered tossing it. However, I believe keeping it would be in our best interest for research on the twisting effect. Her eyes were a deep red and unblinking. Extremely fixated on her self-assigned task. The tissue that comes out of her head had grown (It grows like a human’s hair, as a part of her) to hang over her face, weighed down by Ichor soaked into it.

Care: As the cure took effect, she began to cry tears of Ichor, at first this concerned me but I now assume this may be part of the healing process, as it had no negative affect on her except for causing distress. I took her to my room. I believe if she dirtied her own, she’d be upset. She most likely won’t mind as much in my room. I took her to my shower and removed her dress, my previous theory was correct, she has remained unharmed. However, her body has grown thin and frail. I guided 01 into a shower which seemed to calm her down a great amount. Since 01 is technically Tisha and had shown no signs of aggression or sudden movement, I left to get her old clothes from her own bedroom.

01 hadn’t said anything other than “My head” (implying she was in pain) and “Rodger” after I activated the cure. When I returned, She still sat perfectly docile in the shower. After gently scrubbing some of the stubborn Ichor off of her, I noted that while Ichor still leaked from her eyes, they were beginning to turn from a shade of deep red to a pinkish tone. This also seems to have improved her vision. As I helped tidy up, she looked at one of her arms and said “S-ee… Clean! Clean!” in a manner such as that.

~~~

“I don’t know exactly what you want to wear and I assume you can’t exactly tell me, so I brought a selection. I think it’ll be big on you, you haven’t eaten in months.” Rodger helped Tisha out of the shower and flipped her tissue over so she could see better. Rodger brought all the comfiest, pajama-like clothes he could find. She reached for a midnight blue crew-neck and pulled it over her head without assistance, she then grabbed her baby blue checkered pajama pants. She tightened and tied the string with no difficulties. “You seem collected!” Rodger pointed out.

“Thank… you!”

~~~

Despite only being cured less than 2 hours ago, Subject 01 proved to be coordinated to get dressed by themself. They even tied the drawstring on her pants. I can tell it’s odd for her for her clothes to fit like this, she used to be a bit chubby before the Twisting so she wore clothes in large sizes. Subject 01 has proved to be good with her hands and processing what is happening, however she seems a bit unsteady in her walking upright. The tears and stains washed away in the shower. However, her hair tissue was in a bad condition, 01 agreed to a hair cut. Her tissue is much shorter now. I made us dinner. She seems almost surprised at everything she sees. I actually have Tisha back. We’re not alone anymore.

After dinner, she came up and started doing dishes with me. The cure worked phenomenally, she’s speaking and cleaning and doing all the things just like she used to. As I write less than a day after her rescue, she is cheerfully cleaning up the Ichor she dragged into my room. I’m not alone. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Tisha, I don’t believe I can even write down how elated I feel about this.

End of entry for Day 1 of Experiment 1, Subject 01 (Tisha Turquois)

~~~

Rodger says it’s been 198 days since I turned “Twisted”. He tried to explain what that meant, I’m not quite sure. I remember getting messy when a machine exploded on me. I remember that I had to clean the Ichor. There was so much mess, it was disgusting. So I cleaned. Then someone came along to dirty everything up again. All the cleaning is fuzzy in my head. I’ve had an awful headache. And working so tirelessly means I forgot to eat and sleep and close my eyes. It’s weird. 198 days? I lost a lot of weight and It’s always cold now. My eyes are still really sore and my head hurts pretty bad. I’ve got a new haircut though! It was pretty funny, Rodger said, “Please don’t be mad, you know this was always more of Glisten’s and Teagan’s thing!!” My tissue is short now, I don’t mind! Rodger looks so different from what I remember. He’s acting differently too! I remember Rodger being quite touch adverse and I never had to worry about his room needing tidied.

I’m worried about him. His room looks horrible, his desk space is covered in papers and mugs and pens and stains of Ichor and capsules and vials and science equipment, the floor is covered in clothes. His corkboard is strung with red string so tightly knit, I can NOT distinguish what any of it means. Notes pinned all over it along with pictures and samples. My dress is folded over a chair. I wonder when Rodger stopped taking care of himself.

I don’t mind in the slightest but he asked me to stay with him instead of going back to my room. He’s being so sweet, calling me all sorts of nice things and saying he’s so glad to have me back. I wonder how long he’s been alone for. I go back to his bathroom, I look in the mirror, it was fogged over before. My eyes are pink, my tissue is cut kind of jagged and I am very thin. I don’t mind much of that though. I go back to curl into bed with Rodger. I place gentle kisses on his glass and he giggles. I wonder if he noticed his eye was a shade of pink as well.

Chapter Text

Rodger Magnis:
- A tad taller than Tisha
- Only his head is hard, the rest of his body is a smooth, soft, and squishy like tissue. Most toons have this as their skin, Rodger is no exception.
- Detective Rodger’s feet are actually PAWS! Though, he will never admit that despite the fact he walks around without shoes on
- Yes, Rodger drinks (egregious amounts of coffee) AND eats (probably not as often as he should) How? You ask? I DON’T KNOW, BITE ME! :D
- Rodger is severely mentally unstable now, despite presenting professional and collected, if his cure from experiment 21 wouldn’t have worked, he would’ve slowly been driven to madness and eventually, twisting himself.
- Rodger is autistic. He has problems with emotions (expressing, and understanding) along with him being an utter YAPPER. He was touch adverse most of the time before the Twistings occurred. He will stim when excited. He walks on his toebeans and does not like shoes.
- Despite being distasteful towards physical contact before, he is now VERY clingy. This may not be obvious from his notes but oh boy, does Tisha KNOW.
- Rodger has body hair on his arms and legs
- He stopped caring for himself and his space once the last toon other than himself twisted, instead fully diving into his work
- Despite his mental panic, Rodger’s handwriting remains nice and neat
- Rodger is not good with scissors. (See: Tisha’s horrendous cut)
- I would say pretty confidently that he’s depressed
- Detail not really mentioned: He uses an wrist crossbow to inject Twisteds with cure vials!

Tisha Turquois:
- While she appears to have a cardboard tissue box for a head, Tisha’s ‘skin’ is very smooth, soft, and squishy, like most toons! She’s a nice little cuddle buddy!
- Tisha lost much weight while being twisted, now painfully thin. Most of their ‘recovery’ is just making sure they get to a healthy weight again. For Tisha, this means a little chubby!
- Tisha’s unsteady on her legs and feels fatigued after standing for even just a few minutes too long
- They are probably the least changed by their twisting in comparison to everyone else. Looking almost exactly the same (other than the weight and the ‘hair’cut.)
- Tisha needs to FIRE HER BARBER DAWG (Her tissue will grow to a normal look again in time)
- Tisha is a horrible neat freak. (I would give them OCD but I don’t know how to write it and I’m afraid to get it wrong 👍) They can’t stand to see a mess, and if she does? She will probably insist she cleans it
- Tisha helps Rodger clean his depression room and start caring for himself again.
- She is often pretty cold, having lost insulation
- This is mentioned the next chapter we see her but she drools now, like, quite a bit.
- Left Handed

Chapter Text

Shrimpo hated Gardenview. He hated it much much more than before. He hated it with all the rage his body could manage. He hated the blue walls. He hated the rainbow siding ON the walls. He hated the limited amount of rooms he had to roam. He hated the lack of furniture. He hated the amount of boxes. He hated the easy-to-burst ichor machines around the floor. He hated the wooden flooring. He hated the ugly random probably-expired candy on the ground. He hated that his throat burned and ached even when he didn’t make a sound. He hated that he was slow. He hated his dragging fists and his short legs and his outfits torn and his everything drenched in Ichor. He knew what he was.

And he hated that too.

Shrimpo hated that he snuck into Rodger’s room at night to read his private notes instead of just talking to him about it. He hated how much he knew, yet how little. He hated how attuned he was to his situation, yet so lost. He hated how much hate he felt when he looked at a Toon alive, not living in a state of agony and confusion and uncertainty. He hated that he was so aggressive. He didn’t want to hurt them. He hated that he couldn’t tell any of them how he felt. He hated that they would never see him as anything other than a mindless twisted. He hated how he saw things, heard things, smelled things. All he saw was red and inky and blurry and weird. All he heard was muddled and hurt his ears. All he smelled was sour, violating Ichor all over his goddamn face.

He hated Ichor. He hated Twisteds. He hated the Twisteds on his floor, in his space, the ones who made him like this. He hated Razzle. He hated Dazzle. And he ESPECIALLY hated Shelly. They were the reason he was left a Twisted and no Toons other than Rodger and Glisten had visited since. He didn’t hate when the Toons visited. He hated that he tried to attack them whenever he merely saw one of them. He hated that he wasn’t in control of his body. Shrimpo HATED not being in control of his body. He didn’t hate when they visited because it was nice to be around creatures with preserved sanity, that spoke, that could- What was he kidding. Rodger hadn’t visited in ages. Even then, if he did, Shrimpo would try to hurt him.

He was simply doomed. Doomed to a meaningless existence, unable to speak, wandering around aimlessly, until he eventually withered away. That was all he was looking forward to now, collapsing someday. It didn’t seem like that day was anywhere near today though.

Shrimpo’s Ichor slicked tail pricked into the air when he heard something, tinny and distorted, but still an unusual sound. Out of the ordinary. Foreign. Shrimpo went to investigate, what else was there to do at this point? The sound was emitted from Razzle and Dazzle’s circle. That’s where they stabbed him through the chest with their weird ribbon thing who KNOWS how long ago. He paused at the edge of the circle, weary of his foot placement. He looked back up to try and see what was happening. He squinted and tilted his head but all he still saw was the blurry red haze of his surroundings and the pointy black jumble of misery in the shape of R&D.

He remembered something, Rodger said that the twins only detected you if you moved too fast, if you move slowly, you should be able to pass through, no problem. Shrimpo placed one mucky paw into the circle. Then one more. He slowly moved closer and closer to the hunched-up Twisted. He could see their details now, Razzle smiled in his sleep. Dazzle looked directly at Shrimpo. He stumbled back in surprise and fell to the ground. He prepared to be stabbed AGAIN but nothing came. Dazzle looked miserable, well, as miserable as a Twisted could look. Shrimpo hadn’t ever been close with the twins in life (he wasn’t close to anyone, really, but regardless) He only ever bullied them over Dazzle’s wimpy demeanor. But now, Dazzle intrigued him. He scooted closer, cautiously.

Dazzle sniffed. Oh, he was the source of the noise. He was crying. Another thing that Shrimpo didn’t hate was that he had complete control of his actions when it was just him and the other Twisteds around. Then, Dazzle spoke, “(H-hello? Did you hear me… uh… crying? I’m sorry to- disturb you.)” Shrimpo’s eyes widened. His voice was awfully hard to understand, only having half a mouth and all, yet he seemed to manage.

Shrimpo leaned in closer. Dazzle’s eye wasn’t like Shelly’s or Razzle’s or probably Shrimpo’s. They were pink and had big pupils. Feeling, understanding, warm, sad, alive. Shrimpo wanted to ask why Dazzle was upset… even though that was pretty obvious. He just blinked at him. Twisteds don’t normally blink. He hoped Dazzle understood.

“(You’re… sitting with me. And blinking at me. *sniff* You might be conscious enough to understand me…)” he whined, “(No… that’s stupid… *sniff* I wish Razzle was here…)” Dazzle continued to blubber and bawl. Shrimpo reached out a shaking arm and pointed to Razzle’s face. Dazzle was being unreasonable, his brother was literally fused with him.

Dazzle paused. “(I don’t-- how… I’m not sure why I am going to explain this to you… Razzle is dead, he’s Twisted… he’s gone… like you… are… or… should be?)” He was confused about Shrimpo’s condition. So was Shrimpo. He looked to the floor. “(I know you can’t but… since Razzle’s gone I have to be *sniff* optimistic… can you… understand me?)”

Shrimpo looked back to Dazzle eagerly, though moving his head that fast sent a spike of pain through his dome. Shrimpo nodded. He didn’t know Dazzle was still a Toon. He didn’t know why he didn’t attack him, probably because of his brother.

“(You… can? This is all probably just some weird… coincidence. Raise your… left arm?)”

Shrimpo tried to remember which directions were which, making an L with both his claws. He then raised his right arm, like a dumbass. Dazzle actually giggled.

“(I think that was… close enough. You even did the… thing… and still got it wrong. You’re so silly for a Twisted, Shrimpo.)” Shrimpo HATED being called silly. But at the moment, it was hard to hate anything. This was the first conversation (even though it was one sided) he had in forever. Dazzle started sniffing again, crying again. Shrimpo thought this was hilarious, his old bully tendencies coming through.

“grrbrg-URK-” Shrimpo attempted to speak but broke into agonized vomiting and coughing. Ow- fuck, shit, ow- ow- ow- I HATE TRYING TO TALK LIKE THIS, he screamed inside his head and his body shook violently and tears of Ichor started dripping down his face.

“(Sh-shrimpo? You o-okay?)” Dazzle stammered through his own inky sobs. Shrimpo didn’t have it in him to show a response, he remained hacking and coughing. He hated this. Dazzle pulled Shrimpo in with his arm, against the larger Twisted. Shrimpo tried to push away, he thought that if he made contact with the majority unaffected toon, he’d make his condition worse. “(No- no… It’s fine. I don’t mind… Shrimpo.)” It was like he knew what he was thinking. What he wanted to say. It was nice. Shrimpo leaned up against his new friend and curled his claws by his chest, he didn’t want to hurt him. He would hate if Dazzle turned as nonsensical as the rest.

“(I had no idea you were still… there. I’m sorry he… we… you know. You probably hate us… We’re awful. Gross. Horrible. I tied us down here. We’re too dangerous, left to roam. I tied us down but- … We’re still a danger to others. It’s horrible.)” Dazzle choked out. Shrimpo understood him. He hated Razzle but it wasn’t Dazzle’s fault he died. He didn’t hate Dazzle anymore. He just hated everything else. “(Hah… this is so… crazy- isn’t it? You’re still you, I’m still me… and we’re on the same floor… sorry I’m talking so much… Razzle doesn’t make very good company! …Was that funny? Comedy is much more his thing…)”

Despite how awful it felt, Shrimpo made a small hum and nodded. Sure, they were both still miserable, drenched in blood, and in immense, unbearable pain. But Shrimpo and Dazzle could hate their new lives together.

Chapter Text

The second entry of the Rehabilitation Documents begins on day 200. Two Hundred days since the nightmare began. Signed, naturally, by Detective Rodger Magnis.

Day 200, Day 3 of Experiment 1, Survivors: Two, Subject 01 (Tisha Turquois)

I have allowed myself to get a good night’s r relax for once take a break from my studies. As I planned to monitor 01’s condition, however, we the subject and I managed to completely sleep through all of day 199. Very unprofessional, I am aware. I do have to take into consideration the levels of exhaustion I have admittedly put myself through. Even though I do not have to consume as much food as the other toons to keep sustained, I truly haven’t been eating much of anything since Glisten At first, 01’s sleeping state concerned me, however I do have to remember and acknowledge that I flushed her body completely of the toxin keeping her functional and they’ve been on her feet, sweeping pointlessly, for TWO HUNDRED DAYS.

Two hundred days. I have to say that my declining mental state may be evident in my notes. This is no journal and this is a study of subject 01 so I don’t feel I need to unpack that. Would I consider myself a subject? Subject 00 maybe? Perhaps not. I did mention we both slept that long, I blame my focus on my Cure taking 8 nights of sleep away from me. I will prepare breakfast for 01 once she awakens, for now, I’m going to replicate my Cure. I have my next target in mind and I believe I will need two vials to take him down. Updates on this can be found in my expedition journal.

I looked in the mirror, a mistake on my part. I look horrible. Glisten would sit me down and gently wipe away all the smudges on my glass. Glisten would make sure I slept and ate and honestly I can’t do anything for myself anymore without thinking of him. I would tell him I’m plenty well kept, but I can’t even tell myself that anymore. I can’t wipe my glass down, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t-

There’s a blot of ink on this page and a hole in the paper. It is assumed that Detective Magnis slammed his pen into his notebook. There’s also dried wet spots on the page, he must have started to cry. The entry continues a few pages later, where the ink didn’t seep through

Enough of that, I wasted a perfectly good pen and a few pages of this journal. The effects of losing Glisten are still hard on me. I’ve observed that 01 drools a lot in her sleep, not that I mind that it’s getting on my sheets and pillows but more so an observation. When I found subject 01 she was in fact, drooling ichor. Maybe this will be a side effect from the twisting. I will continue to observe further.

I have replicated the cure. I will pursue rescuing another. It hurts me to leave Tisha here but I have left her a note. For further entries, look to the expedition notepad.

End of entry for day 200, Day 3 of Experiment 1, Subject 01 (Tisha Turquois)

~~~

As he explained, Rodger shifts his entry to his expedition notebook.

Day 200, Experiment 21, Trial 2, Survivors: Two.

I have loaded all my supplies, including my back up vial, into my bag (Excluding the reacher/grabber). I will go down to floor 3. Two Twisteds reside here, the remnants of Boxten and Poppy. The first cured toon, Tisha, took the Cure extremely well, coming to her senses almost instantaneously. I have worry that others may not, but hope remains. Getting either of those Toons back will be difficult.

I have been to floor 3 a few times to observe the Twisteds and collect research. Today, I aim for Boxten Comb. I have a theory about him, he appears to be completely uninjured, similar to Tisha. So I hypothesize that instead of being twisted himself, the inanimate ballerina in his cube-shaped head caused those reaching claws up out of his hatch. Due to his irregular movement and wander-style, I believe the ichor infested creature in his head is puppeting him like a parasite.

With yarn I borrowed from Scraps’s room, I set up a tripwire. Once Twisted Boxten falls I will act quickly.

~~~

Rodger heard a thud, the fact that the creature didn’t see his trap further proved his theory. He zoomed from the shadows to see the slimy claws made of dripping solidified Ichor attempting to get Boxten back on his feet. His true arms, stained with more Ichor, hung limply at his sides. Using the grabber, Rodger snatched the goopy mass from inside Boxten’s head and flung it to the wall. He extended one of his arms and shot the organism with the first vial of the Cure, cold and unfeeling.

Looking down at Boxten, he reloaded in a calm manner and sent the second dart into his back. Rodger waited.

He put his shaking arms under him to prop him up. His top clapped shut as he shuttered, vomiting straight Ichor into the carpet. Rodger winced, Tisha didn’t do that. Rodger kneeled and put his hand gently on Boxten’s back, he flinched aggressively. He turned with still-red eyes, full of confusion, towards Rodger. He opened his mouth to speak but shuddered and wretched back onto the ground instead.

“Wh- what’s h-h-h-happening?!” Boxten whispered. Rodger rubbed his back, he risked a glance where the mass of Ichor splattered across the room, it was nothing but a puddle now.

“Something wonderful, you’re back,” He wrapped his arm around Boxten’s shoulder and pressed the top of his frame to the corner of Boxten’s head. “Let’s go, I’ll help you up, Boxten.”

~~~

Another entry in the Rehabilitation Documents highlights the ongoing results of both Subjects…

Day 200, Day 3 of Experiment 1, Day 1 of Experiment 2, Survivors: Three, Subjects: Boxten Comb and 01 (Tisha Turquois).

The Cure has proven successful once again. So far, all is well. Both Subjects are showing no signs of reverting back to their infected states. Boxten has been deemed Subject 02, he will be referred to as such. Boxten speaks with a stutter, yet speaks. He dwelled on floor 3 for 183 days as a Twisted until I cured him on this day. Other toons reported that he went down in an attempt to bring Poppy back, she fell only the day before him. No toon knew quite how he turned Twisted. He seemed to have processed as I brought him back to the elevator although he was deeply confused. As a Twisted he was controlled by his suddenly sentient ballerina figurine in his head, presenting itself in a mass of Ichor with two claws. Once separated, I eliminated the parasite and injected 02 with the Cure.

Update on 01: When 02 and I reached my room, 01 had completely tidied the place. My files were organized, my coffee maker was cleaned, the desk was wiped down, the laundry was done. It’s been so long since we’ve had Tisha around. She amazes me, she’s kind and helpful, she loves to clean, she explained that she woke up and thought I could use some help with taking care of myself. It’s hard to admit, but she is correct. I walked into my room with my arm around 02 and there she was, knitting in my bed. She was so excited to help and tell us about her day. It’s been so nice to hear Tisha’s voice.

I believe she helped ground Boxten as we began his care. I am forever grateful to that darling toon.

02; Appearance: Strings of Ichor were connected between the openings in 02’s head, the cure took a faster effect, as 02 began to cry in the elevator on our way up. He cried into my shoulder, dirting my suit. I don’t mind so much, Tisha can get the stains out. As I stated previously, the tears seem to be a way to get the excess Ichor out of their system. His hands have old Ichor stains, likely from investigating his new form early on in his twisting process. His signature blue bandana is not as severely damaged as Tisha’s dress but his square frame glasses are cracked. His leg warmers and converse shoes were coated in a layer so thick that I decided to toss all but one sock. Saved for research, naturally. I can’t help but feel a bit weary around 02, I didn’t know him all that well before he Twisted and he retains very sharp teeth.

Care: After showing him to Tisha, we moved once more into the bathroom. I went out to fetch Boxten’s pajamas and put our clothes into the washing machine. Tisha stayed behind with him to clean him off and slowly but surely tell him about how she’s been today. 02, like Tisha 01 showed no signs of aggression and was also completely uninjured.

When I returned, I found the 02 giggling as Tisha scrubbed at the inside of his head. It’s wonderful to see them in good spirits.

~~~

“HEHEEHEHEHEHEHHE!! HAHAA- TISH! TISHA THA-A-AT TICKL-LLES!” Boxten squealed. And kicked at the floor of the shower, the soft warm water fell on them both. Tisha, meanwhile, scrubbed away along the walls of Boxten’s music box head with a rather serious expression.

“YOU’RE S… TRAIGHT… GUNKY! I gotta! Clean ya!” She determined. As Rodger joined them, she also devolved into giggles. “RODGE! You're gross too!!!” She practically tackled him to wipe down his glass frame. All three surviving Toons were having fun. Fun was something Rodger didn’t have for ages. But now they were back, and they were safe. And they were having fun.

Rodger missed his daughter.

~~~

Tisha says that when I was away, Boxten puked Ichor down the drain a couple of times. We all got dressed into our comfortable clothes. And the other two now are sleeping quietly over in my bed as I sit at my desk. Boxten says his head hurts, and that his arms feel weak. I’ll have to work on something to help with their headaches, but for now, I’m going to climb into bed. It’s what Teagan and Glisten would want.

End of entry for Day 3 of Experiment 1, Subject 01 (Tisha Turquois), and Day 1 of Experiment 2, Subject 02 (Boxten Comb)

The next entry begins in rushed handwriting, still Rodger’s, yet more sloppy than normal.

Day 2 of Experiment 2 (3:26 AM), Subject 02 (Boxten Comb).

02 suffers from night terrors. He woke from a nightmare at 1 AM this morning.

~~~

Boxten was small. Boxten was small and he faced Tina. Tina was the name he gave the little fake ballerina that spun in his music box head when he played music. Tina was taller than him. She looked sad, disappointed, even. He reached toward her. There was Ichor on his hand. When he lightly grazed her arm, the Ichor spread. It enveloped her hand, she started to scream as her hand twisted and rearranged into claws. She was in agony. Cracking sounds and jolting movement as she still shrieked.

First, her fingers elongated and turned, out-jutting back and forth in all the directions they weren’t supposed to go, one by one into deadly points. The ichor climbed up her arm, Boxten heard each and every one of her bones break, multiple times each. She fell to her knees when it reached her chin, clawing at her face in panic, each scrape and scratch she earned only made her faster to be consumed. Boxten watched with a plain expression despite the sheer horror he felt.

Tina looked up at him with pleading, accusing eyes. She screeched over and over again, “YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS TO ME. YOU DID THIS.” and so on. Boxten watched on, unable to look anywhere else, as each of her bones shattered and she melted into Ichor slop.

Tina lurched for Boxten, claws outstretched, ready to take her vengeance for what he did to her.

~~~

Boxten sobbed uncontrollably, digging his clawless hands into the clean skin on his arms. He hyperventilated in the arms of Rodger, who sat with him. He looked calm almost, empathetic, he wasn’t mad at all that Boxten had woken him up. Tisha still softly honked with snores beside the two intertwining toons. Rodger cradled Boxten’s head and let him cry into him as he whispered soft nothings. He despised that he was flung back into consciousness. He despised that there was no mirror to complain about being up late because he needed beauty sleep, yet still talked him through his stress. He acknowledged that Rodger was there for him all the same. He acknowledged that tears that weren’t his own fell onto his shirt.

~~~

Rodger couldn’t help but think of Glisten. Boxten and Rodger both loved him deeply and all that was happening was so similar to how it was before… Rodger broke. The detective was typically able to suppress his feelings. He was able to for the past 26 days. All at once, it all came crashing down onto him. His partners were gone. His friends were gone. His daughter was gone. Sure, he could get them back but it would never EVER be the same. He left Glisten all alone down there. Rodger turned out to be a loud and ugly cryer. Boxten and him sobbed into eachother for approximately 2-3 hours, a mutual understanding coming between them. They had to be eachother’s Glisten. For now.

No matter the cost, he would get Glisten back. For Boxten, for Glisten, and for himself.

Chapter Text

Boxten Comb
- His last name was chosen as a nod to the ‘instrument’ inside a music box, it’s called a comb!
- Slightly taller than Rodger, significantly shorter than Glisten
- Boxten’s head is similar to both Tisha AND Rodger, the key is metal but the edges of his box are squishy!
- Boxten’s feet are a very light lavender, almost white (Like in his Cloudy Dreams skin!)
- His bandana is slightly stained yet he still wears it anyway
- He still wears his glasses despite the fact that they have cracks in them
- Still has sharp teeth
- Pajamas are the ones he wears in the Cloudy Dreams skin
- Music box no longer works, can’t make music anymore.

Chapter Text

Razzle and Dazzle sleep alot. Like a lot, a lot. Shrimpo hates this but tries to hide that from Dazzle. Razzle never wakes up unless he runs in the circle just to fuck with them. He had to entertain himself somehow! He definitely didn’t hate Dazzle now, he just let him talk and talk and talk. Dazzle would explain the plots of books he read with the book club, he would tell him about some of the plays he had written, he would perform some scenes from those plays all by himself. Sometimes he would give Shrimpo lines and they would perform together, even if Shrimpo just had to convey his words with actions.

One day, Shrimpo sought out Shelly (Who he ALSO hated, however, Dazzle insisted.) She was nowhere to be found. Even if she was there, it was likely she wouldn’t want to come be their audience. It seemed like most Twisteds only paid attention to Toons. Shrimpo began to hate things a lot less when he started ‘talking’ to Dazzle. Like maybe the rainbow accents on the walls brought a bit of fun to the place. Maybe the posters reminded him that there were healthy, happy Toons still living, thriving, on the floors above. Probably.

It was weird, as soon as Shrimpo and Dazzle had someone to be with, it made the pain more bearable. It made Shrimpo stop wandering around, roaming without a purpose. Dazzle would even give him tasks to complete.

‘(Try to bring the TV over here, then find a tape! We can watch one of the old episodes, maybe one of us will be in it…)’ ‘(Do you think you could find me some candy? I know there might be some around here somewhere…)’ ‘(Can you bring a book over here, please? I’ll read it to you)’ ‘(If you find a piece of paper, we could finger paint with the Ichor on our hands… no. We aren’t destroying any of those books, Shrimpo…)’ ‘(I’m thinking of a new script… but I need help deciding between some of lines, what do you think?)’

Stuff like that. When he had Dazzle around he felt like a toon again, a person again.

Shrimpo didn’t need to sleep, he was a Twisted, but he did anyway. When Dazzle slept, Shrimpo tried to as well. It didn’t always work, of course. Twisteds weren’t meant to sleep. One morning? Night? Shrimpo didn’t care. He slept curled up into Dazzle, like always, when there was a sudden and loud noise. Shrimpo jumped onto all fours, like a startled cat, and his shrimp tails on his head and his behind stuck straight up and his antennae extended outwards. A voice sounded, something about an elevator. There was a slam, louder this time and Shrimpo stood.

Shrimpo forgot what happens when he sees a Toon.

Someone peaked their head around the corner, Shrimpo’s pupils narrowed. As a Twisted, everything far away and in the edges of his vision was red. Just a concentrated red mist. Toons or Twisteds far away looked like sharp, dark, distorted shadows until he got close enough to see them, or they stayed still for a long while. So… Dazzle basically. And Razzle too. Shrimpo often forgot that Razzle was there given he had been completely dormant for the time Dazzle and him had spent together. The last interaction he had with Razzle ended in Shrimpo’s death, but he tried not to hate him for his friend’s sake.

Given his vision, he didn’t know who they were. He felt his body tense and he began to move toward them. No… Shrimpo didn’t want this. He wanted a new friend to join him and Dazzle. He wanted to simply show he was there, he was normal, he was fine despite the rampant twitching and the decay in what used to be his mouth. The Ichor was like a slow-moving acid, taking advantage of emotions and eating away at the parts inside you. Shrimpo came to that conclusion himself.

He wanted to sit back down, wait for the toons to approach them and have Dazzle say, ‘(Hello, how are you? Oh, Shrimpo says hi too by the way… he can’t talk.)’ and Shrimpo would look up at them and try a wave. But he started to run. He hated running. He hated being slow most of the time, but now he willed himself even slower so whoever he was chasing had time to escape.

“(Shrimpo?!)” Dazzle exclaimed, then he shushed his brother to prevent him from waking. The toon started to run, Shrimpo hoped they were fast. He hated chasing toons. He hated hurting others. He hated being a Twisted. That’s all he ever could be to the Toons, he could only chase and hurt. There was no way to prove he was sane. He hated that the most. He hated how much it hurt to move this fast. The Toon he chased was taller than him (everyone was taller than him, so that didn’t matter much) About medium height, a lean and clean silhouette, a slow pace, was it… Rodger-?

A slightly clearer voice, a girl, shouted, “GOT HIM! Find Razz and Dazz, hun! Quickly! I’ll keep this one busy and hope I don’t trip! Ha!” She darted infront of whoever Shrimpo was chasing before and did something to the wooden floor, it turned slick and Shrimpo slid and stumbled forward. Every movement sent another bolt of red-hot pain searing through Shrimpo yet his body propelled him forward. The Toon was shorter than Rodger(?), blockier, faster too. Shrimpo’s gut (which DID have a hole in it, so it COULD be wrong) told him that it was Tisha. That… was impossible though. Tisha was the very first Toon to become a Twisted.

Since his body was autopiloting him, he tried to remember all the Toons that died before he did. Tisha for sure… Poppy… Boxten… the Twins and Shelly… Looey… Yatta… Shrimpo hated Yatta and Yatta didn’t like Shrimpo but he still shuddered when remembering how she died… Finn. Finn was Shrimpo’s fault. He didn’t like thinking about it. He was sure there were more that he just couldn’t remember at that moment. He wondered if there were other Twisteds like Shrimpo, locked in a body they couldn’t control around Toons. Twisteds who had so much to say but couldn’t express a word. Twisteds with arms so sore, they shook and twitched violently whenever they tried to use them.

Wait… had miss mystery Toon said something about Dazzle? Shrimpo was just running in circles for ages and ages, wondering about anything and everything that presented itself to his mind. There was a yell somewhere and the Toon changed course. Shrimpo followed, the light of the elevator was blinding compared to the dimly lit surroundings he was used to. He squinted but as the Toon entered the elevator, it shut.

Shrimpo did an angry little hop. He hated that. He hated that they were there and then they just left. He hated being down here. He hated the teeth marks in his head and the stab wound in his stomach. He hated his rotting mouth. He hated his weird vision. He hated his claw hands and his elongated antennae. He hated that he was left behind, just like that. He hated that they wouldn’t be back for a long time now since they probably got what they needed. He wanted to collapse. His EVERYTHING ached and longed just to lie down.

He dragged his feet back to the circle, barely managing to stand. Well that was fucking weird, huh, Dazzle? I hate that you had to watch me do that, so embarrassing, I can’t help it. he thought. When he sat down he’d communicate that using body language, he literally can’t do anything BUT that when he sees a Toon. He hated the stupid Toons. He glanced up from his stained paws, expecting to see Dazzle’s confused and worried gaze, preparing to snuggle up in his arms to rest, but…

The cinder block-weight sat on its side, two cut ribbons hanging limply from where they were tied around the base, the ones that used to keep Razzle and Dazzle tethered, anchored, to the ground. They were both… gone. Just gone.

Chapter Text

A new page, signed by Detective Rodger Magnis, in the rehabilitation notebook begins, speaking of the start of the 3 Toon’s day.

Day 201, Day 2 for 02 (Boxten Comb), Day 4 for 01 (Tisha Turquois), Survivors: Three.

I’ve decided to format my headings in a slightly different way, seeing how I like it. As you may have seen from the latest entry, Subject 02 had a bad nightmare last night however I managed to get both 02 and I back to sleep. This morning, 02 offered to help with breakfast, fondly remembering he used to bake with Cosmo Sprink and Sprout Seedly. He showed his coordination with light objects quite adequately, however he struggles to use his arms when a lot of strength was needed (E.g. a bag of flour) (I.e. we made pancakes) It is also worth noting that 01 is speaking normally now, a couple good slumbers and her mind seemed to be restored.

Then, 02 asked for clarification of what happened, assuming that there was more things learned since his Twisting near the start. Of course, I am not going to lie to them, so I started at the beginning for 01. (being the first to become a Twisted, she knew next to nothing). 02 took it surprisingly well, despite a somber tone. Naturally, it would be entirely different if we couldn’t cure the toons. But we can, so 02 took it well. 01, however is insisting that we…

~~~

“Wh-what happened after I Twisted?” Boxten asked, Tisha glanced over.

“And… what is a Twisted? I’m not sure… I fully understand what’s going on, Rodge’,” She added.

Rodger took a deep breath and set his mug of coffee down on the counter, “It’s difficult to explain, I will try to. We’ve- I’ve discovered that if infected Ichor makes contact with a Toon’s insides through injuries or in their eyes or mouth, they will imminently become a peculiar, Twisted version of themselves. Or at least I think so, I haven’t seen any cases that prove otherwise though. Tisha, you were obviously the first. Boxten you were third, right after Poppy. Then Teagan went to find you and also-”

“Wait, what?”

“She went to floor five and didn’t return.”

“But you said that a Toon only becomes a Twisted when they make contact with Ichor, she wasn’t down there to do machines- how did she- there’s no way-” Rodger could tell Tisha had started to piece things together. She was just in denial, she must’ve figured out what happened.

“Tish, dear, Twisteds are aggressive, unfeeling Toons that are insanely unstable. They attack anything they see.” He eased.

“So I- Oh my god. I killed Teagan, didn’t I?” She looked at her hands, shaking slightly, brow furrowed and eyes wide at the concept. She looked back up at Rodger, praying he’d say no.

“It… is assumed so. But that was not you. That was a Twisted, Tisha, look at me. You had no say in whether you hurt Teagan or not, therefore you did not kill her,” Rodger leaned over the counter and placed his hands on their shoulders.

“No, it is, I was the one messing with the machine that exploded, so it’s my fault. I’m the one who killed her, so I’m the one that’ll bring her back.” She gave Rodger a determined look.

Rodger attempted to reason with her, “We can’t… make decisions that fast, Tisha. We don’t know much about Twisted Teagan-”

“That’s more the reason to go down there.” Tisha crossed her arms and leaned back into their seat.

“You haven’t ever even seen a Twisted, you don’t know how dangerous they can-” Rodger squeezed his fists near his chest.

“Even more of the reason to bring me down; I have to learn somehow, don’t I? Plus, if it’s so dangerous wouldn’t it be safer for me to tag along?”

“I have plenty of experience! I’m going to be fi-”

“Rodger, I have to save her. You want her here as much as I do- no. More. You want her here even more than I do. You’ve been without her for… what? Over 150 days? She’s probably suffering, Rodger.”

Rodger’s stance faltered. His eye softened and he sighed, pressing his fingers to the top of his frame. Goddamn Tisha’s full intelligence returning. How Rodger had missed having her around… she was right. They were probably suffering. “... Fine. Go get dressed, I’ll show you how to use the wristbow.”

Tisha’s glare softened, “Thank you, I’ll go get ready,” she cracked a smile, pushing up from her seat. She hurried off towards the rooms, almost stumbling. Rodger shook his head lovingly.

He turned to Boxten, “Boxy, love, will you be okay here? It’s only been a day… I would like to monitor you closer, but… I mean!! You heard Tisha!! She drives a very hard bargain!” Rodger gestured exasperatedly.

Boxten laughed, “I think I’ll be okay, Rodger. You can go and I’ll have something sweet prepared when Teagan’s here with us. I’ll try to help as best I can.”

Rodger’s eye upturned in relief, everything was going so well with these two, and as they started to fill the education center once more, everyone could be happy again.

~~~

Tisha observed Rodger writing quickly in one of the notepads he carried around. She had changed into a black tank-top and a gray skirt, tying the crew-neck around her waist tightly. They rocked on their heels, she didn’t like the silence. “Soooo… What's with the book?” She wondered out loud.

Rodger jumped, perhaps forgetting she was there, “Well, every good detective slash scientist writes observation notes! It’s important to have records of your research. I suppose I should tell you what I know about Teagan, shouldn’t I? It appears that she just wanders without a specific purpose, she walks upright-”

“There are Twisteds that… don’t?”

“Yes, some crawl. She walks slow and neat, not stumbly like Looey, Shrimpo, or Poppy. Her teacup is cracked, I think that there isn’t any tea left in her head… I’m not sure how that affects her. I have no idea what happens when she’s empty, I never asked… did you?”

“Oh! Umm… no! I know she plugs her head to keep the tea when she sleeps?” Tisha assumed Rodger already knew that, but she didn’t want to be utterly devoid of useful information, so she thought to remind him.

Rodger tapped the bottom of his glass with his pen in thought, “Right… We’ll have to repair her as soon as possible after curing. Your wristbow is ready?”

“Mhm! I feel so bad, she was always so good at keeping her feather boa clean, it must be so gross now…”

“Hm… I don’t remember focusing on whether or not they still have that… I suppose we’ll see, we’re here.” The elevator door creaked open to reveal what should’ve been a familiar environment to Tisha, instead, she was plunged into a horrifically disgusting world she had NEVER seen before. The dim lights illuminated the peeling blue wallpaper and what should've been the shiny wooden floorboards. However, the ground was covered in grime and muck and Ichor. Tisha physically jumped back with a squeal.

Rodger gave her a look, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Ah- um… mhm! Sure! Yeah! Just give me a second!” She stood at the edge of the elevator door flapping out her hands. Slowly, she placed one foot out the elevator, her foot touched the wet, slimy ground and she immediately pulled back with another disgusted shriek in recoil. “Holy shit, I should’ve brought my boots… and my gloves… and-” She paused to shudder as she stepped out again, both feet this time, “My god, why the hell didn’t I think to do that??” Tisha muttered.

Rodger pulled at his collar sheepishly, “I think I should’ve warned you about this, huh?”

Tisha’s death glare bore into Rodger, “You THINK?” They spat. “How- How did this even happen?!!?!”

“... yooooou?” Rodger shrugged. Tisha just groaned in misery and stomped through the sludge. Rodger’s voice dropped, “Remember, just because we want to find them, we don’t want them to find us first, we should try and stay out of sight. As well as staying quiet. Yatta could be around, you never know.”

Tisha strained, “That sounds terrifying considering I have no idea what Yatta is like, she was scary enough in life.”

“Eh… we won’t likely have to hassle over her, she happens to prefer floors I visit often.”

“SHE’S ACTIVELY HUNTING YOU????”

“Perchance.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST SAY PERCHANCE AND NOT EXPL-”

“Shh, even though Yatta isn’t here yet, if you keep yelling both she and Teagan will.” Rodger jolted after finishing his sentence. Tisha looked and also jumped back to see that, as if on cue, Teagan had popped her head around the corner. She didn’t look angry or in pain, mostly curious. As she tilted her cup, Ichor drip-drip-dripped off onto the stained floor. Her cup was cracked and broken, one of her entire eyes were missing and the fractures crawling across her previously-so-radiant face leaked Ichor. Her lipstick was smeared and the one eye she still had was bright red, with a black ring for a pupil. She still shined in some places, like on the very edge of the mostly-untouched golden rim.

Rodger and Tisha exchanged a glance when the tall Twisted didn’t attack, they only saw her face but Tisha could swear that she was taller than before. “...Tea…gan?” Rodger tried, obviously nervous.

Teagan looked away for a moment, then back at Rodger with a creased brow. What was that supposed to mean? They stood up and came out from behind the wall, looking down at the shaky smaller Toons. Now they had a full view of her and… whatever THAT was. Where once she had an elegant white feather boa around her shoulders, there was now a scruffy thing with two heads both slobbering Ichor. Her dress was torn at the bottom but the glitter still reflected in this dim setting. She held her old coin purse with two black slicked hands.

“Teeeeeeagan? Darling? Can you understand what I’m saying?” Rodger prompted. Teagan only looked more befuddled, one of the Boa heads snapping and the other snarling.

“I should cure her. What- what do I shoot? Did we only bring one vial?” Tisha never broke eye contact with the Twisted as she whimpered the question to Rodger.

“No. I always have a spare, I- I’m not sure about where to… shoot,” He stood his ground yet shook slightly. He made a barely audible comment, “If it attacks, run, I’ll handle it.”

Tisha shook her head, she didn’t know if Rodger saw. She raised her hand to shoot and one of the boa heads lunged forwards, Teagan stumbled with it, appearing surprised. “EEK!!” She yelped. Tisha pulled her hand back, but now the creature had a target, it chomped forward and Tisha backpedaled. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her fist forward with her other hand.

When no jaws closed down on her, she dared peek at the teacup. Teagan looked down at her stomach, arms up with her shoulders hunched. The outstretched head of the boa quivered and whipped itself around, appearing very unhappy. A look to Rodger revealed him feverishly writing into the notebook, glancing up and down. Tisha set her arms at her sides and observed them rather-uncomfortably. First, the mean head shivered and puked a gallon of Ichor, its second, less aggressive twin soon did the same.

Teagan’s eyes blinked several times, as tears of black began to pool at the rims, and she brought a hand up to wipe at them. Then she clutched at her shattered head in a jolt of movement, “OW!! GOOD GRACIOUS, THAT HURTS!!!” She exclaimed.

Rodger jumped into action, tucking away the notes. “Teagan!! Come with us! We got you now, this way!!! Tish, darling, run ahead and ready the elevator for departure, please,” Rodger commanded. Tisha obliged and as she went back to the elevator she heard Teagan mutter, “Did I hear that right? Tisha’s okay? Hun, I can’t see…” until she was out of earshot.

~~~

Tisha held her mouth in a straight line, biting on her lower lip and tried to rid of the tears threatening to spill out of her still-pinkish eyes. She clenched the bottom of her too-big tank top and stared at the ground. Rodger and Teagan were discussing her Twisted experience.

“Teagan, how big of a problem is it that your head is empty? Normally you have tea in there and I don’t know how much not having it will affect you. I know you used to cork up your head when you sleep so I assume you have to keep your head full or-”

“Haha, Rodger, honey, it’s okay” She chuckled and put her arm around him, he jolted. “I don’t need tea in my head, Rodger, it would just be a hassle if I emptied and refilled it everynight, that’s it! However, it would likely be in the best interest for my health if we patched… this… or something… The pain is kind of blinding? It’s awful.” Teagan somehow managed to say with a smile, tightly clenching at her fragmented head.

“Right, er…”

“Oh! Would it help to have the shards? I believe I have them in my purse!”

Teagan passed Rodger her golden hand purse, the bottom blackened by Ichor. If the pieces of her teacup were anywhere, they were in there. “Oh! Yes! This actually helps a lot! I’ve been wanting to test my theory about the Cure! I think I can use it as a sort of glue. Bend down, my love,” Rodger requested, taking out an extra vial of the Cure and a large piece of Teagan’s head. Tisha felt queasy, she did that. She broke Teagan. They leaned down, dripping some Ichor onto the boa and the floor of the elevator.
“I’m going to be honest, I have no idea if this will hurt or not, let me know…”

Tisha looked to the ground again. She heard a small clink in the silence.

“Hmm… it’s sort of… tingly? That specific spot stopped hurting, I think… It’s hard to tell.” They noted. Rodger squealed before he started attaching more pieces of Teagan’s head.

He stepped back and admired his work, clapping to himself with a giggle, “How do you feel?”

Tisha peeked up at Teagan, having a still grossly dirty cup yet it was all together now, even the handle was re-attached. “Good! The pain dulled and where it was a 8/10 before it would be more like a 3/10 now on the hurt scale… So I’m okay now? What’s happening Rodger?”

Rodger paused, his expression turning to a wince. “It’s been 177 days since you Twisted.”

“I- what?!” She gasped.

“Today is day 201. There are three survivors, you are the fourth. Everyone else is a Twisted. Which means they have been turned into sickly monsters that attack anything in sight in most cases. I am the only Toon to have never gotten infected. I recently began rescuing others after I developed a cure. You are the third subject I’ve used it on. You were killed and Twisted by Tisha when she also was infected.” Tisha flinched, “We are currently returning to the Toon rooms so we can get you taken care of and cleaned up.”

“Wow… that’s… a lot. 177 days? Everyone? They’re… um… dead?”

“Yes, except for you, me, Tisha, and Boxten.”

“Everyone?” Her voice was small as she put her hands on her cheeks in distress.

Rodger put his arms around her, “Hey, it’s okay, I’m fixing it, I’m bringing them all back. You can help if you want but- oh! We’re here, let's get you tidied up, huh? Come on, Tisha,” Rodger led them down the hall and to the rooms.

~~~

A passage later in Rodger Magnis’s entry for day 201 informs of what occurred while washing off Teagan Sweet, also introducing 2 new subjects.

To our surprise, 03’s feather boa refused to come off her shoulders, proving to have fused to their body. Even more preposterous, the mouths on each end never went away, and when introduced to the water of the shower, yelped, squeaked and thrashed as they were awoken from their temporary slumber. Teagan calls each head by a different name. This is quite odd to me. The left head is Squeaky (Subject 04) and the other is Chomper (Subject 05). Chomper is named Chomper because he bit me.

Teagan found this very comical, it did not hurt because 04 and 05 are a faux feather boa but it was still startling. Neither of them seem to be outright aggressive but simply playful. 03 is quite pleased with their presence. Subject 03 is proving to be very coordinated, just like the other two, and made us all tea. I believe 03 has given herself the goal of teasing me after noticing my changes in behavior. It’s embarrassing. I will update more on all three of the new subjects’ conditions in later entries.

Teagan asked me how my daughter died.

I told her what floor I think she’s on. I didn’t tell her that I watched.

Chapter Text

Shrimpo never realized how much he hated being alone. He hated being around the others before all this. He would hate when Rodger would check up on him. He hated doing runs in pursuit of the fabled Cure Rodger wanted to develop. Then he hated the Twisteds for a while. He hated longing for company. Then he didn’t hate all three of them, just Razzle and Shelly. Then he didn’t even hate them anymore. Then they were all gone and Shrimpo hated being alone.

He wanted all of them back, even Yatta. Even Dandy, who Shrimpo blamed for all of this. He wanted someone. Anyone. But no.

He was alone.

And he hated it.

First, he tried looking for Dazzle (and Razzle too but whatever). Maybe Razzle ripped through the ribbons in a fit of rage when one of the living toons disturbed his rest. Maybe they were wandering around the floor somewhere. So Shrimpo went looking. He hated looking for them. He searched everywhere and not a single creature roamed but him. When had Shelly disappeared? Shrimpo didn’t even notice. He looked for them, more and more until he simply collapsed near the weight in the center of the circle.

He ended up laying there for a long time, a long long time. Razzle and Dazzle were gone. Shelly was gone. Where could they have gone? After what he could only assume was several days he pried himself from the rug where he had begun to stick to. Had he sat there so long that his blood was crusting him to the carpet? He was disgusting, like always. Covered in sticky Ichor, continuously oozing in from several places. A gross, deteriorating mouth cavity, probably so horrific not even Sprout and Cosmo could look him in the face. A pitchy whine came from his throat when he sat up.

He pulled the weight next to him and tried to untie the tethers. It was definitely harder than Shrimpo thought it would be. His hands shook uncontrollably, aggressively, and twitchy. The knot was binded by Ichor and tight as a bitch. (That’s not a good descriptor, but Shrimpo was struggling with this and he was thinking a lot of swear words I don’t feel like listing here.) After what felt like hours of effort he loosened it enough to pull it close. The ribbons that formed the circle were rooted into the ground somehow so this was practically the only thing Shrimpo had left of Dazzle. He cradled the strands close.

After sitting for another day or two on his back with the scarf scraps tied around his wrist he thought he should stop moping. Sure, it was what Dazzle would do, but Shrimpo knew Dazzle wouldn’t want him to do what he would do. He got up again. He could find something to do, right?

Shrimpo considered his options. He could watch the tapes again (But he hated that stupid show), he could read a book (In all honesty, he hated reading), he could write a play??? (But that would remind him of Dazzle) He ended up thinking of the kind of person he was while considering his options. He was a Twisted now, nothing could be done about that, really. But if he was a Toon again, maybe he would be a different kind of Toon. Before he twisted, he was mean, he was a bully, and he liked being that way. He liked tormenting the other toons. It was just about the only thing he liked. Shrimpo no longer enjoyed the idea of belittling others. He just wanted company, friends, maybe a hug, or simply to rot away faster than he was. He hated being alone but then again, he was always alone even before he twisted.

If he went back to being a Toon, chances are that he would be alone anyways.

Shrimpo hated thinking logically. He decided to find something to do so he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Tisha sipped from her teacup. It was the first tea party that Teagan was hosting after she was recovered. She sat on her hip with her legs to the side, leaning against Teagan with her head propped on their shoulder. Teagan had brewed some Butterfly Pea tea after making enough sweet tea to fill her head. Instead of sitting in a circle like a normal tea party, Rodger sat on the other side of Teagan, leaning on her, and Boxten leaned on him. Boxten’s voice broke the serene silence, “When I bake, the key on the back of my head winds up… It’s unwinding now.”

Tisha caught a glimpse of Rodger putting his arm around Boxten, “Is there something wrong with that? Isn’t that normal?” he asked.

Boxten stammered, “I-I-It normally makes music. My- my head is supposed to make music. There’s no music.”

Rodger hummed and dug in his pocket for his notepad. “Is this… concerning for you?”

“...” Boxten stayed silent. Tisha took that as a yes. Suddenly, the quiet was less comforting. She spoke up.

“Rodger, if I’m going to be helping you bring Toons back, you should probably tell me more about the Twisteds, don’t you think?” She suggested.

Rodger stopped writing with a pause, looking straight ahead. He pulled a second notebook out of his pockets. He sighed, “I suppose so, where should I start?”

~~~

“Each floor houses one or two different Twisteds, every single one is dangerous in some way shape or form and could easily kill us. Floor three has Poppy on it. I plan on taking you to each floor so you can get an idea of what each Twisted is like. I brought one vial of Cure for us each but I advise that we only choose one Twisted at a time to cure because we don’t want to take on a bigger task than we can handle. Understood?” Rodger asked as he tossed Tisha the vial.

“Mhm! So Poppy… how dangerous is she?” Tisha inquired as the elevator door opened.

Rodger lowered his volume, “Mmm… not too bad. You still have to be cautious, she’s spread all about the floor.”

Tisha paused for a moment, “What does that mean?”

“She’s become a concentrated Ichor creature that forms into larger bubbles when provoked, see that puddle there?” Rodger put out his palm to display a nearby stain of Ichor on the ground. “That’s part of her. Watch where you step. However, she's easy to avoid even after being bothered, as she will always congregate where her old pink bow is first, THEN go to where she was stepped in.”

“... Weird.”

“Twisteds tend to bond to old objects or articles of clothing they enjoyed in life, like your feather duster.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense… I do miss my feather duster.”

“I can get you a new one if you want, dear.”

“That would be nice,” Tisha intertwined her hand (although gloved) with Rodger’s.

~~~

“The two on this floor fascinate me greatly, I don’t have exact records on what caused their demise but I think it has something to do with Gigi’s bad habit-”

“Oh, the stealing thing?”

“... No. Something else. If you don’t already know, I think you’ll have to talk to her yourself… it's a private matter.”

“Oh.”

“We can only afford a quick peek on this floor, navigating around Gigi and Flutter can be very difficult. We have to keep our distance and keep out of sight at all times, hear me?”

Tisha gave a tight nod as the elevator opened.

~~~

“I know you have a lot of attachment to her, but today was not the day. We aren’t prepared enough to rescue a Main yet, hon.” Rodger put his arm around Tisha, rubbing her back. She choked through her sobs and tried to calm down. The elevator was descending to the next floor already after Rodger pressed the button.

“It’s all my fault she’s like that, isn’t it? If- if I wouldn’t have been the first one to die maybe I could’ve-- maybe I would’ve--”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s not your fault Tisha, we’ll come back for her soon, don’t worry.” Floor 8 was a nightmare for Tisha. Three of her friends resided on that floor… and Shrimpo too. Her cries reduced to sniffles as the door for floor 11 opened.

~~~

Tisha picked who she wanted to save.

~~~

“I don’t frequent this floor often, I predict we shouldn’t have to worry about Yatta,” Rodger murmured as the door to floor 14 opened. It was a diner floor.

“And why don’t you?” Tisha asked in a similar tone. Rodger stayed silent and gave her an unusually agitated look. He rubbed his eye.

“Sprout, being a main character, is extremely dangerous and hyper-aggressive. It seems he always knows who’s around, but only attacks if anyone gets too close to Cosmo. He also resides on this floor. He wanders aimlessly while Sprout specifically follows him. Toodles was killed by Sprout- At least I think she was… I… wasn’t around. That’s how I discovered Sprout was aggressive at all, I took my chances going right up to him, he didn’t seem to care, if only a tad annoyed,” He whispered.

“But go up to Cosmo and it’s game over, doesn’t help that Cosmo is also aggressive. When I went to… well… It’s fair to say I also discovered tendrils of ichor can sprout from the ground when Sprout is too far to actually attack with his claw-- No pun intended.”

“So, what does Sprout look-” Tisha began to ask but found her mouth turned dry when a something rounded the corner and casted a glance at the two. It was hulkingly large, not quite reaching the ceiling with the top of its head but with its leaves. Those leaves having grown unruly up and down the creature’s head, akin to Tisha’s hair tissue. Rodger had properly described its sour expression, a frown and a warning squint from its one eye. The other was obscured by leaves and an unmistakable stain of leaking Ichor. Sprout’s scarf took on a point at the end of the fabric, it whipped back and forth twice. It looked to have conjoined to him similarly to Chomper and Squeaky. His most defining feature other than his height was that one of his arms had lengthened and grown into a massive claw the size of Tisha herself and hung at his side, Ichor ran down the ends of the claw.

Sprout’s brown straight-leg pants were only shorts to him now, his sweater was completely gone and so was his apron. His torso seemed to be the source of his leakage down his arm, as there were four claw marks down it in a long scawling wound. Every step it took seemed to root him to the ground, after which he had to remove himself making a tearing sound. Tisha wondered if it hurt.

The two held their breath when Sprout passed simply with a glare. He eventually dragged himself away. “We need to avoid Cosmo at all costs. If it senses us near him, it’ll strike. Now Toodles…” Rodger started to give briefing on his daughter, Tisha didn’t catch most of it. She wrapped her gloved hands around her elbows. That was Sprout. The same Sprout who promised her sweet treats if she helped clean the kitchen for the hundredth time. The Sprout that came running when she pricked her finger with a sewing needle. The Sprout who treated every toon with kindness and patience (for the most part). The Sprout who checked in on everyone when he thought they weren’t feeling well, even if not directly.

And now Sprout was… what? Some mindless hulking monster? Unkept and wounded, wandering around the same floor, doomed until Rodger and Tisha decided to save him? What had Sprout ever done to deserve this? Tisha bit her lower lip, looked up, and blinked away the forming tears. “Tisha? Are you okay?” Rodger asked, tucking away his notes.

“Yeah, fine, could you say all that again? My mind was wandering,” Tisha said.

“There shouldn’t be a need, as you can see, she’s right over there. I advise you to make your own observations, it’ll be good practice for Twisteds I am not as well informed on.” Rodger nodded towards a very small figure. She looked fine, nothing odd about her. Tisha observed small tears in her dress, her favorite dog plushie was tucked under one of her arms as she pranced upright. She looked completely normal.

Tisha whispered, shifting her stance in her black rubber boots, “What’s Twisted about her? She looks just like she did before-”

Rodger interrupted bluntly, “Wait for her to turn around.” They tucked themselves around corners and followed her closely until she eventually changed direction.

She paused, pivoted and started trotting back the way she came. Tisha now knew why it would be unwise to approach the small child. Her eight-ball head was broken open, a large piece missing, simply spewing Ichor. Well, not spewing, but it was awfully bloody. Her eyes were bright red with black rings as pupils, her mouth was upturned in a pointed smile, and one of her hands had twisted into a claw. She looked outright gleeful despite the head wound and the scrapes on her knees.

“So do we rescue her now and run to the elevator or what?” Tisha broke the observing silence. Rodger began to say something but abruptly stopped. He screamed and reeled back, clutching his arm. Tisha’s eyes widened in horror when black droplets hit the ground, seeping through Rodger’s fingers. Twisted Cosmo had come up behind them, his face seemed half melted, having taken out one of his eyes. He wasn’t any larger than originally but one of his arms was. The opposite arm from Sprouts had contorted itself into a claw, the same claw that had swiped through Rodger’s sleeve and flesh.

Tisha’s heart pounded out of her chest and she hardly even realized that she shot Cosmo with the Cure. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Rodger exclaimed, completely out of character. He had no time to care for his safety, he slipped under Cosmo’s arm right before they fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do and- I- I wasn’t thinking and-”

“No use apologizing, what's done is done! Hurry!! We have to go NOW! Support his other side, we have to get to the elevator!” Rodger yelled and Tisha sprang into action. He grunted as he adjusted his grip on Cosmo when Tisha put his normal arm around her shoulders. Before they could turn around to run back to their escape route, a rumbling sounded. A tendril of dripping Ichor shot towards them across the ground. They ran.

Or… it was more of a stumble. The dead weight between them made it hard along with the fact Tisha could run faster than Rodger made them unbalanced. There was a cracking sound as the wood split, releasing the tendril towards them. It narrowly missed. Tisha panted, her legs were hurting really bad today, she was ready to be done over an hour ago. She didn’t tell Rodger that though.

She found herself stumbling and dragging behind Rodger. “C’mon! We’re almost there!! Just keep going. Tisha squeaked with effort. Stomp, tear. Stomp, tear. Stomp, tear. STOMP, TEAR. STOMP, TEAR. Sprout’s distance behind them was narrowing, he was speeding up. If they were caught, they could die. Rodger was already injured. They were doomed.

Rodger shot his Cure at the elevator button, surprisingly with enough force to register as a press. Tisha inwardly thanked Delilah for making him so clever. When they reached the elevator, it screeched open and they flung the three of them inside. Tisha and Cosmo collapsed immediately, Rodger pressed the ‘Lobby’ button so hard Tisha thought he might have jammed it. Twisted Sprout lunged for the elevator and SLAM! It shut. They were safe. Scared shitless everytime Sprout pounded on the elevator with his oversized fist, but safe. Now they had to deal with Cosmo.

Oh, right, Cosmo. They had gone to floor 14 for Toodles. Tisha chose Toodles. Not Cosmo. Now they had Cosmo. Three more metallic thumps on the door before they started to ascend. The elevator was silent for a few seconds, aside from the heavy breathing. Rodger hissed and clenched his arm, the damage beginning to hit him. He looked down at his arm, two of Cosmo’s claws caught his arm and left lengthy gashes, draining Rodger of a lot of Ichor he probably needed. He sank to the floor and leaned his head against the wall. He grumbled something to himself.

“Was that.. Sprout? Why did- why did we leave him? Why can’t I see well? Why is… why is Tisha here? I thought she… Ow… oh my god… fuck… OW!! My- my face!” Cosmo’s questions very quickly broke into hyperventilating sobs. Tisha didn’t know what to do. She pulled Cosmo close and prayed that she would be strong enough to stand once they reached the lobby.

~~~

Boxten’s head hurt. It always hurt. But it was worse when he worried, he found this out when Rodger and Tisha were gone for over an hour. They left over an hour ago. They left and they weren’t back. Boxten tried baking something for their return to calm himself down but his anxiety hated him. He dropped his liquid measuring cup and it shattered on the ground, spilling the milk it held and scattering glass all across the kitchen floor. God, he was such a failure. He couldn’t even bake for his friends right. He was too much of a wimp to go down there and help them and he was utterly useless for the one thing he was supposed to be good at. He didn’t know why Rodger saved him. He brings no use, he has no use. He was like one of those baking utensils that you only really need for one specific recipe and you tuck it away after using it once and then the next time you want to use it you can’t find it and then it never gets used again because it’s tucked in the back corner of that one drawer you use to keep all those miscellaneous cooking utensils like ladles and spatulas and whisks. Boxten just stood there and stared at the glass and the milk on the tile until Teagan came rushing in.

“I think Squeaky heard something! They lunged over here! Are you oka-- oh goodness! Let me help you clean that up!” Teagan grabbed a towel and a broom and returned. She mopped up the milk and sweeped up the glass while Boxten just stood there, useless. “My, my! I’m sure Tisha will help us tidy the rest of this up when she gets back, huh?”

What if they aren’t coming back at all?

“I think we take a little break from this recipe and have a nice cup of tea to calm ourselves down, hm? Just try not to drop that cup! Ha!” Teagan smiled in an attempt to get Boxten to laugh.

Do something, show her you appreciate this, smile, DO SOMETHING!

When he continued to stare at her blankly, her smile faltered and she guided him out of the kitchen. As they made their way back to the Toon Rooms, a ding came from the elevators. Rodger and Tisha were back.

Chapter Text

Shrimpo didn’t give two shits about “dAmAgInG pRoPeRtY” anymore. Shrimpo hated this goddamn property. He already tore up his room before all this, what difference would it make if he ruined this space, too? He knew Dazzle wouldn’t want him to but he was gone now, so what did it matter? Exactly! It didn’t matter! Nothing mattered! Shrimpo didn’t matter. He knew Rodger didn’t miss him, he knew GLISTEN didn’t miss him. Shelly didn’t miss him, and Tisha didn’t miss him, and Sprout for sure didn’t miss him. Maybe Dazzle didn’t miss him either.

Well- who cares if they don’t miss them?! Shrimpo sure didn’t care! He hated all of them! He BULLIED all of them! Shrimpo didn’t care about not being missed in the slightest! He didn’t care about fading into forgotten obscurity. He didn’t care that Rodger was probably relieved when he died. He didn’t care that Glisten might’ve been trying to get him hurt. He didn’t care that they all hated him and they weren’t ever going to think about him again other than a passing thought of, “Remember Shrimpo? Sure glad HE’S gone!” He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He thought that if he kept saying that in his head maybe it would be true.

Why couldn’t he be like his old self? Why has he changed? Why isn’t he the Shrimpo that hated everyone? The Shrimpo that didn’t care what others said because he was better than them? The Shrimpo that always found new ways to belittle and torture some of the less confident Toons? Why was he different, now? Why did he want to be that Shrimpo? But why did he hate that Shrimpo all the same? Why did he hate the thought of being that Shrimpo? Did he just want to have a sense of normalness? Why was he like that in the first place?

Shrimpo was a huge dick for as far back as he could remember, yet, he didn’t remember a lot about himself when he was younger. It was like there was a block there, preventing him from remembering his time spent with his handler, with the other Toons, as a kid. He remembered hate. He remembered things he observed about the other Toons so he could make fun of them for it. He remembered hating everyone and them being confused, they had only met friendly faces until Shrimpo came along, designed to hate, built to hate. He hated remembering all that shit.

He didn’t care about memories of the other Toons. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that he didn’t have any friends. (A small voice spoke on the edge of his thoughts, Dazzle? Dazzle’s our friend!) No he wasn't, he was gone. He was gone and he was never Shrimpo's friend. Shrimpo didn’t have friends. He ran the tips of his claws over the snippet of ribbon tied around his wrist. He was going to damage some property.

Shrimpo looked at the wall and placed his pointer claw in his mouth cavity, he didn’t feel it but once his claw was wet he knew there was Ichor on it. He steadied his hand with the other arm and drew a circle at eye level, roughly the shape of a head. He reached up and drew two lines in a point above his head. Then the end of his head-tail, a fin-like shape. He had to re-supply his… paint and gave him a trapezoid shape for a body. Arms, legs, eyes, but he hesitated on the mouth. Should he be smiling in this drawing? That was a concept unimaginable for Shrimpo. But a frown would just make him sad to look at every day. He left the mouth-region empty.

Shrimpo found a box to stand on, he remembered that Razzle and Dazzle were a lot taller than he was. Twin masks, ribbon neck, ruffling sleeves, long legs, eyes, face markings, smiles. After an hour he had drawn himself and his… friend. His arms were getting worn but… if he could draw Dazzle as his friend, he could make other Toons his friends too! The next person he thought of was Rodger, Shrimpo didn’t need a box for that, Rodger was only a bit taller than he was. Circle, handle, eye, tie, arms, legs. Rodger didn’t smile, he didn’t have a mouth, but Shrimpo said that he was happy in his head.

Even though he didn’t like Shrimpo, he drew Glisten next to Rodger. Glisten was tall too, so he had to stand on the box again. Then he drew Astro next to Razzle, then Sprout next to him, then cosmo. He went to the other side and drew Boxten, then Poppy, then Scraps, he shoved the box over again and drew Goob, next to Goob he drew Yatta and Blot and Looey, then Connie.

His arms ached, he hadn’t moved this much in what he could assume was a few weeks. Shrimpo stood back, against the wall of the wallway and sank to the ground. He observed his work, all the toons looked vaguely like themselves, they were all alive, they were all safe, and they were all happy. Shrimpo wished that was true. He wished he had friends like the Shrimpo on the wall. He wished everyone was safe. He wished that-

Wait, no, he hated them. They hated him. The Ichor on the wall was a delusional picture of desperation. Shrimpo made friends for the drawing parallel of himself because he knew it could never be. But… Shrimpo definitely didn’t care. He didn’t care so much that tears began to pour out of his eyes… out of… not-caringness. Shrimpo hated crying. He curled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them as he became a ball of loneliness and sorrow.

He hated that.

Chapter Text

Rodger hissed, looking down at his arm. It didn’t really hurt yet, the adrenaline prevented the pain from getting to him. Yet, that would wear off soon enough. He clenched his fist around the scratch, trying to prevent Tisha worrying about him too much, though, from the speed at which Ichor leaked from the wound, he knew she was going to worry anyway. It was a nasty injury, recovery would be rough. He leaned back to touch the top of his head to the cool metal walls of the elevator and grumbled nonspecifically. This was a mess.

Cosmo began to stammer and stumble some questions out before he collapsed into a crying mess. Tisha pulled him close with an absent expression and held him to her chest; she didn’t care about the Ichor at that moment. Or maybe she did, Tisha exhibited extreme sensory issues. Rodger would have to ask her about it later and add it to the notes. He felt bad, maybe he was being insensitive. He wasn’t trying to be, he just had a curious nature.

The elevator dinged when they reached their destination, the Toon Rooms. The door opened slowly. Rodger rose. “Stay here, I’ll get help,” He commanded and staggered out of the elevator. Teagan and Boxten seemed shocked to see him, “We’ll need… two medkits? And a vial for me, I got a little hurt- ah, don’t give me that look, I’m fine.” Boxten looked absolutely horrified, he froze. Teagan hurried off to fetch the supplies.

“What?”

“... w-what happened?”

“Cosmo caught me by surprise, you really don’t have to worry, while this is the first time this has happened to me, it’s a simple fix! Doesn’t even hurt!” Rodger attempted to straighten his posture and reassure the easy-to-panic music box, but he followed his gaze and realized the trail of blood he left behind. “I’ll be alright, Boxten!”

Boxten looked him in the eye, just plain scared.

“If you want to, you can go check on Tisha and Cosmo. Unless you’re already feeling squeamish…” Rodger didn’t get a reply from Boxten, he just ran past, towards the elevator. Teagan returned shortly, Rodger took off his suit jacket and glared at the tears through his previously white shirt. He took that off too. Rodger looked up at Teagan, “Go take the other medkit to Cosmo, wrap his head up, he’s hurt. I can take care of myself.”

“No, you can’t. Tisha told me all about how you behaved before she came to save your sorry behind, dear.”

Rodger was taken aback, “I- you know what I meant! I can take care of this!”

Teagan gave him a sympathetic look, “I’ll be right back, honey,” they concluded before trotting off to the elevator. Rodger felt downright ashamed, it was never that bad, was it? He was fine. He could take care of himself. Right, take care of himself. He should bandage the claw marks. Rodger clicked open the first-aid kit and pulled out a roll of white bandages. He knew claw-marks like this would be better if he had stitches but Rodger unfortunately did not know how to sew. It was probably fine. He didn’t need stitches, surely. He started to wrap his arm, as tight as he could manage. Pressure was good for wounds to stop bleeding, right? He should focus on stopping the bleeding.

He wrapped his arm 3 times, then a fourth when he saw the Ichor seep through. He took a moment to think. Cosmo’s claw was coated in Ichor, and that Ichor entered Rodger’s wound when it was made. He got up to do something he typically avoided.

He closed his eye when he entered the bathroom and flicked on the lights. He placed his shaking hands on the rim of the sink and opened his eye. Looking at himself in the mirror was worse than he thought it would be. After just five seconds of tolerating his own appearance, he turned and shut off the light, leaving his room. He had collected all the data he needed.

When Rodger returned to the elevator, Cosmo was wrapped around Boxten with his whole body on the floor, bandages around his claw and the half of his head that was damaged. Small sniffles were heard from the cake roll. “... How are you feeling, Cos?”

Cosmo didn’t unbury his face from Boxten’s neck, “I feel… like I miss Sprout. And bad, and confused. I feel bad and confused. And my face hurts like a bitch.” He explained with a wobbly, muffled voice.

“Yeah… that makes a lot of sense, it’s okay now, though. We saved you, and you won’t hurt for much longer, okay? We’re all here for you. Me: Rodger, Teagan, Tisha, and Boxten.” Rodger sat down beside them and rubbed Cosmo’s back.

Cosmo looked up, blinking back the ever-pouring black tears, “Where’s Sprout? Is he around? Or uhm… Goob? Or Flutter?”

“...” Rodger exchanged a glance of pity with Tisha, this was probably the worst part about bringing anyone back: Seeing them in pain and having to inform them about everyone’s deaths. God forbid they blame themselves for any harm caused by them. Tisha hated what she did, but she lived with it to an extent, Rodger couldn’t predict what Cosmo might do when he learns what happened to Sprout. “They… are not here,” was what he said.

“Oh… can I go see Sprout when he comes back, then?”

Boxten grimaced, Tisha winced, Teagan looked away. Rodger nodded, “When he comes back. Teagan, toss me the Cure I assume you grabbed… please,” He held out his hand. Teagan reached inside Squeaker’s mouth and pulled out one of the vials.

“Rodger, dear, why did you want thiiii-” Teagan trailed off as she bore witness to Rodger slamming the needle end into his good arm. He flinched softly. “Oh goodness. Was… that necessary?”

“We don’t want me to become Twisted, do we?” Rodger questioned

“That would be awful!” “No we wouldn’t.” “Absolutely not.” They responded simultaneously.

“Then yes, it was necessary. Infected Ichor entered my bloodstream through the wound, no doubt Sprout turned in precisely the saaaaaame… er,” Cosmo stared at him in confusion, Rodger assumed he could rely on Cosmo’s brain fog to cover that up. “I would’ve turned Twisted if I hadn’t done that.”

“What happened to your arm? It’s bound up,” they observed.

Rodger contemplated telling him the truth, he decided that it was best to keep it from him for now, “I made a mistake in the kitchen, got hurt, I’m okay now. Let’s get you somewhere cozy, huh?” Rodger stood up and stumbled, dizzy. A shot of pain ran up his arm when he attempted to stabilize himself and grab onto Teagan. He pulled his arm back. The nausea and pain of prolonged blood loss hit him.

Teagan lunged forward to support him, a few drops of tea fell to the ground. She put their arm around him and held him up while he wrapped his arms around himself. Squeaky and Chomper wrapped around his lower back, pulling him up close to Teagan. The contact made him jump. “Ugh, sorry,” Rodger groaned, he needed to take his movements much slower.

“No worries, darling. Tisha, Boxten, won’t you both be a dear and help Cosmo up?” Teagan spoke over Rodger’s head. He felt like puking, despite not having a mouth. He felt a crack in his glass close up that he didn’t even know he had, appearing to be caused by the Cure taking effect. It was a gross feeling, he shuddered. He put up his good arm to rub his eye, only to discover it was leaking a familiar substance. Not only did he feel like throwing up, now he was crying Ichor. Just perfect.

“Uurgh…” he groaned.

“Rodger, honey, let’s have you lie down. It’s been a long day, hm? I’ll make you some chamomile peppermint tea, alright? Boxten, Tisha, and I will take care of Cosmo,” Teagan reassured.

Rodger pushed himself away from them, “But… my research and… my notes and-” Rodger made a heaving sound, Teagan cradled him close. She was practically carrying him at that point. Maybe Rodger should refine the Cure, these side effects SUCKED.

Teagan began pulling him towards his quarters, she asked him something. Rodger looked up, confused. “Did you miss all of that or just the last part, darling?”

Rodger grumbled, “All of it.”

“I said that I’m glad we did that sooner than later, and then I asked how long you’ve been showing signs of being Twisted.” Rodger winced, Teagan glanced at him skeptically.

“I haven’t an idea of what you mean,” he lied, “I haven’t ever been infected once, I’ve never been Twisted.”

“The fractures in your glass, Rodger, your eye has been tinted pink even before you saved me, Tisha informed me so. You can’t lie to me, I know your tells, sweetie.” Teagan wiped his eye as he sat on the edge of his bed. “You’ve been turning Twisted since I got here, and even before. Even if you believed you were fine, the signs weren’t getting any better. Tisha said you were only getting worse.”

“So, I’m glad you came to your senses, but I’m disappointed in you for waiting for an actual Twisted wound for you to cure yourself. You’ll be fine now but… Rodger… Are you okay?”

Rodger kneaded the fabric of his pants, he wasn’t turning Twisted, was he? Sure, when he looked in the mirror his eye was ever so slightly getting redder but… surely not. “I’m… fine. I’ll get better. I just need time.” He sucked in a shaky breath, Teagan sat on the bed beside him. They put their hand around his waist and pulled him closer. He flinched first, then Rodger picked at the wispy material of their sundress when he tethered his arms around them. “I’m sorry,” he choked. “There’s just so much happening and- and-” His voice failed him, it gave out. There goes being composed or mature in the slightest.

“Let it out, dear, I know, I know, it’s a lot. It’s not your fault,” She held him as he sobbed, cooing soft words and reassurances.

~~~

“I hope this isn’t strange but… since you’re a cake, c- can you shower?” Boxten murmured.

Cosmo cracked a small smile, “You’re silly, you’ve seen me wash my hands at least a hundred times!”

Boxten blushed with brief embarrassment, “Oh, right.” He grinned timidly. Cosmo held Boxten’s hand with the paw that hadn’t turned into a safety hazard in his bed. Tisha was sorting through Cosmo’s closet, trying to find something for him to wear. Cosmo’s pretty cake patterns on his body had all been muted and dulled, it saddened Boxten. Cosmo used to be so pretty and unique, now his body was a simple muddled brown. The frosting on top of his head had melted away or something because it was gone. The only color or vibrancy that remained was his sprinkle freckles all over him, on his cheeks and his joints and shoulders. Boxten was ripped from his thoughts of admiring Cosmo when Tisha had asked them a question.

“How about these?” She held out a salmon pink sweater with a cupcake on it and airy black pajama pants covered in a cookie pattern.

Cosmo nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah! Toss it here! Sprout and I both have this sweater, we match sometimes!” They explained as they stretched the neck to pull it over his head. All of Cosmo’s clothes were designed specifically for him because he had to have an elastic neckline. Their head was quite long so any normal shirt would be a squeeze. “Speaking of, Rodger said he wasn’t around, is he on a research or supply run? How long do those take nowadays? Wait… how long was I a Twisted for? I don’t remember us having a cure…” Cosmo managed to ask all those questions when fumbling and trying to get his pants on.

Boxten started to sweat, and hummed to himself in anxiety. He wasn’t too good of a liar, he wished Rodger was in the room, he would know what to say. Boxten would feel so bad if he even attempted to lie though… they can’t hide the truth from them for THAT long! “Ummmm… so… ummm…” he laughed nervously.

Tisha spoke carefully, “A lot of Toons have become Twisted, but we have a Cure. I want you to keep that in mind with what I am about to tell you. As well with the fact that we can always make more of the Cure. We don’t go on any missions other than rescue ones. I don’t know when you became Twisted but we can ask Rodger when he feels better. But… Sprout became Twisted when you did. Rodger did tell me that.”

“Oh god… really? That’s… no… but… mmm.” He hummed discontentedly. Cosmo hugged Boxten’s arm and stared off into the distance.

“It- It’s a lot, but we’ll get everyone back, one by one. But they’ll need care, love, and patience. We saved you for a purpose, you’re… s-sweet beyond all reason… and- and you bake treats that happen to heal others. I can’t do that, Cos.” Boxten blushed as he stammered through his compliments.

“... I’m torn between kissing you on the cheek and gnawing on your shoulder.”

“I- WHAT??”

“Ha- hahaha! I dunno! Lingering Twisted instincts?” Cosmo laughed for the first time since he was cured, Boxten smiled like the dork he was.

“Hehehe-- PLEASE don’t bite me, Cosmo. Seriously. We don’t know what would happen.” He turned serious for a moment.

Cosmo smiled at him lovingly, “I guess I only got one option, then!” He grabbed the opposite corner of Boxten’s face and planted a soft kiss on Boxten’s cheek. His face felt all warm. “I missed you! …I think.
Time got all… weird. I don’t know how long it’s been but I like being with you NOW!”

“While you two ‘catch up’, I’ll go start on the laundry, we got into a MESS today! I’m nasty! Ciao, lover boys!” Tisha and her rubber boots squeaked towards the door.

“Bye Tish! Tell Teagan I’m not making dinner tonight! See ya!” Boxten turned back to Cosmo, “I- I’m glad you’re here too. You’re REALLY conscious considering you even had damage to your head, I mean, you weren’t Twisted for as long as we were, I guess,” he noted.

They yawned, “That’s interesting but maybe I should be… Less conscious. I’m going to sleep, it’s probably good for the healing process? Will you wake me up for dinner?”

Boxten hesitated, “Maybe I could just… stay with you?” he fidgeted with his hands.

“Of course! I don’t mind, Boxten.” Cosmo scooted under the covers of his bed, making sure to be weary of his bandaged arm. He cleared space beside him.

“I need the sleep anyway… have sweet dreams, Cosmo!”

“You too!” He turned away from Boxten who promptly put his arm around their midsection.

I seriously doubt that I’m even capable of that. Boxten thought.

Chapter Text

“So, Rodger,” Cosmo lowered his cup of spiced vanilla tea away from his lips, “How do you organize who to save? Also, who made these pancakes?”

Rodger began bluntly, “Boxten made the pancakes, as for our… procedures. We have not necessarily made a system. A lot of things have been moving along VERY swiftly. I… will admit it’s been uncharacteristically unorganized for me.” He glanced down sheepishly. “This all only started six days ago.”

“REALLY??” Cosmo gaped.

“Yes, really.”

“Well can I ask you to save someone? Could you go get Sprout? I wanna see him!”

Rodger tensed, he glared at Tisha and Boxten, “You told him Sprout was-”

“You really think he would believe he was just in another room for that long? Of course we told him!” Tisha snapped back, Boxten shrank in his seat.

Rodger took a deep breath and massaged the sides of his frame, “Okay then. To answer your question: No.”

Cosmo gave him a look, “Well why not?!”

Rodger picked up his own teacup and took a tentative sip while he tried to collect his thoughts enough to express them. “The way and order in which I choose to revive Toons is a… intricate process. For months I have studied, and scoured, and scraped for every ounce of research and data I can manage to collect. I know all I can know about each and every Twisted… except for Connie and Dandy. That’s a discussion for another time. AHEM- as I was saying-”

“I rescued Tisha first. She was the first Toon to become Twisted, however she didn’t twist because of injury, she twisted because of a machine burst… one of many. But she’s different, she had a goal and a mindset. Not to mention that she’s quick, resourceful, and honestly has some of the stubbornness I needed around. She had an easy recovery and now helps me out.” Tisha beamed and glowed with a bashful pride.

“Next, I chose Boxten. I chose Boxten because he was a curious case. I had a theory I wanted to test, and my theory was correct. Boxten is smart, careful, and although he isn’t part of our extraction team he can provide extra support from his training under you, bakers.” Boxten looked away. He looked… less than excited to be spoken about. Rodger would have see to him about that later.

“Then Tisha insisted we bring Teagan back, she’s VERY hard to say no to. Along with the fact that I didn’t find any flaws in the plan to return her. They also brought their new friends with them! Very curious creatures, they are.” Squeaky squeaked, Chomper waggled their head.

“Now, you see, we were not trying to retrieve you on that mission. Tisha determined she wanted to bring back Toodles, but…” Rodger paused, he clenched his fists and his gaze darted to his injured arm. “In the moment… it made more sense to save you.” He looked back up. “Not that- not that we aren’t tremendously grateful to have you back! It’s just… I’m not so sure we’ve prepared for a case such as yours. On that note, how’s your… claw?”

“It’s not that it hurts… It’s just… Tingly!” Cosmo held up their bandaged paw, observing it front and back. All four fingers showed clear points along the tips that the other paw obviously lacked. “And I’m assuming you would also ask about my face next, same situation.”

“I’ve observed that the Cure has minor regeneration properties, have you observed anything regarding your eye? I know it’s going to be hard to get used to but… you might have lost it permanently like Teagan.”

Cosmo thought for a moment, “Mmm… no. But we could take off the bandages and look?” Rodger nodded and looked to the others for confirmation. Boxten and Tisha exchanged a glance and shrugged collectively. Teagan simply made a hard glare at Rodger’s arm that he would choose to ignore. He walked around the table and started to carefully remove the bandages. It made sense to swap them out anyway, as they were sticky with Ichor.

Rodger hummed, “I can’t observe it properly in this state, how about you wash up? Boxten, Tisha, could you help him with this? I have alternative matters to attend to.” Tisha gave Rodger two thumbs up and hopped off her stool.

She gestured to the boys to follow her, “You got a shower in your bathroom? Do you… have a bathroom?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Of course!”

“We’ll clean you up and send you back to Rodger, sound good?”

“That WAS the plan!”

Rodger was pulled from his passive observation of his friends when he felt Teagan’s discerning stare. He made eye contact with them and cleared his throat, “I wasn’t going to send all three of you! We don’t want to overcrowd the small space. There’s only two toons with large bathrooms as I am sure you are aware. I think that going forward, I will trail along to take notes but I’ll have Toons closer to new sub-- rescues clean them up. It’s a welcome to safety and sometimes I don’t think I’m the best for that. It’ll be nice for them to have old friends caring for them more than I can. Such as: I’ll have Boxten and or Cosmo help when we get Sprout. Speaking of Sprout, I think- No, I’ll save it for when the others retur-”

“You’re dancing around this issue at hand here, Rodger.” Teagan brashly interrupted.

Rodger understood perfectly what she meant. However, she was overreacting. He decided that if he kept changing the subject, Teagan would stop bothering him and give up. “You are right! I haven’t hardly taken ANY notes on this entire encounter! I will begin that now! Thank you for reminding me, dear!” He thanked rhetorically.

“Rodger,” they prompted.

“Teagan, darling, allow me to focus! Perhaps you could… check on the others?”

“Rodger Magnis.”

“Teagan Sweet?”

“You aren’t an idiot.”

“That would be correct!”

She sighed, “We can talk later. As of now I will continue to stare at you disapprovingly.”

Rodger ignored her, he kept writing.

~~~

When Cosmo and the others returned to the kitchen, he had finished writing his notes and he was thankful to be saved from the awkward silence between Rodger and the angry goddess across from him. After exchanging pleasantries, Tisha started a suggestion, “We were talking… we think we should make the list of Twisteds to bring back! I propose we start with Shelly and Cosmo thinks we should start with Sprout. What do you think, Rodge?”

“That is a wonderful idea! However, you’ve seen Shelly. She’s been turned into a predator, she hunts Toons down once she hears them and she does. Not. Stop. As for Sprout, I think he’ll be utterly enraged if we go down there too soon. I know how possessive he is with Cosmo. So until they are ready to join us on missions, we won’t visit Sprout.”

“Shelly can’t be TOO hard! She’s in there! I know she is! You told me she didn’t twist from getting hurt or infected so she’s still in there! We’ll just… talk to her! She simply needs a friend!” Tisha argued.

“No. That is factually incorrect. Glisten, Astro, Shrimpo, and I tried. Before we did, Razzle tried. Both times we attempted to ‘talk’ to Shelly, someone ended up dead.”

“... Oh,” Tisha spoke for all of them as they all looked equally disturbed. “Wait… Shrimpo tried to help?”

“He lasted longer than any of us thought he would, his hatred for everyone dying was stronger than his initial hatred for all of us overall, so yes, he tried to help. Keyword: tried. He never was much of a help and oftentimes ended up inconveniencing us but Astro wanted us to be kind so we kept him around before he got himself killed.”

“I don’t think we’re ready to take on Shelly. She’ll take more than one dart, there’s three Twisteds on the floor, I’m not the fastest Toon and my head reflects light that will draw her attention. While you are fast, you can’t stay on your feet for too long, far less time if you are running. Boxten, Teagan, and Cosmo are either too physically or mentally fragile to assist us without facing consequences, possibly severe ones. To get Shelly we’ll need someone who’s light on their feet, durable, can get themself out of a sticky situation if needed with precision. Someone who’s always thinking ahead. Someone who’s resourceful. And none of us fit that descrip-”

“What about Brightney?” Everyone’s attention snapped to Boxten. He suddenly looked a lot more timid and his voice shrank, “Because-- um- well-- you know! She’s probably one of the smartest Toons I know and- and- I dunno…” He trailed off.

“No, Boxten, that’s an amazing point! I have no clue why I didn’t think of that!” Rodger reached out his hand to the music box. Boxten glanced to him, confused. Rodger retracted his hand, awkwardly. “We’ll head out soon! Well, I SAY we but I’m taking this one alone, Tisha. You'll stay here and search for a spare lightbulb, we can’t keep her with the one she has currently,” The toons started to object but Rodger was too busy hatching a plan to listen. He snapped and requested, “Ooh, you’ll also need to fetch her a lampshade! I will go get dressed and prepare my notes! Get to the preparations before my return!” And with that, Rodger scampered away from the small mob of his protesting friends without listening to a word any of them had to say.

~~~

A new page in his expedition notes. By ‘his’, of course it is assumed we refer to Detective Rodger Magnis.

Day 204, Survivors: Five.

After touring the floors yesterday with subject 01, subject 02 suggest we
rescue someone specifically for the expedition team to assist in recoveries and offer input I may not be able to define myself. This subject of course, being Brightney Lumen. Subject 01 and I skipped floor 12 because of the dangers that lie there along with the fact that she happens to despise one of the former on that floor. Tisha has always hated Vee, yet I haven’t an idea as to why. As far as I am aware she never told anyone. I supposed that her emotion might be a weakness. A weakness that could put us in danger. After I injured myself yesterday, that’s not something I’m willing to risk. I happen to be descending now.

My plan is as follows: Avoid Vee, await a clear shot far away from Brightney,
and shoot. Then I will wait for Brightney to cool before I can approach her, refer to previous entries for a better description of the Twisteds

~~~

Tisha stared down at the paper Rodger had left, a list with one word in his
neat handwriting, “Brightney.” She tapped her chin with the pencil she dug out of the Kitchen’s junk drawer. Well not dug, she had organized every drawer IN the kitchen a couple days prior. “I think we should be able to save Shelly after Brightney… right?”

“I mean, Rodger said that the only reason you couldn’t was because we didn’t have anyone like her, yeah?” Cosmo supported.

“Yeah!” Tisha grinned. She wrote down Shelly’s name with two exclamation marks after it. She tapped the pencil again, “Then who after that?”

“Toss it here?” Cosmo slid the paper around with his claw and fumbled with catching the pencil in his paw. “I was thinking I should get a request, since you guys have, I think. And because Rodger said no to Sprout, my next choice is Goob! He’s fast and he’s very loving and helpful and really tries to bring a smile to everyone when he can-”

“We get it, you’re very in love with the other puppy boy! Can you get any gayer, Cos?” Tisha snickered and punched his arm playfully.

Cosmo’s face lit with embarrassment for only a second before he got a mischievous grin and giggled, “Maybe I CAN!” They pulled a very startled Boxten by his bandana in for a kiss. Teagan’s laugh was the picture of elegance in comparison of the rest of their dying giggles. Boxten put his face in his hands. Cosmo paused in their chortling to write “Goob” in small, round letters on the sheet. Teagan eased the paper and pencil towards her and wrote “Toodles” in flowy cursive under the others. She then stood and stuck the list on the fridge with a magnet that looked like Dandy’s head.

~~~

An older page, clear by the more faded ink, early on in the expedition journal reads a description of the fallen Brightney Lumen…

Day 54, Experiment 2, Survivors: Sixteen. The fallen: Tisha, Teagan, Poppy, Boxten, Gigi, Looey, Shelly, Cosmo, Vee, Brightney.

Two days after Vee caught Brightney on a supply run, I have returned to the floor to observe her state. She gives off a harsh red light, compared to the nicer white glow she previously carried. As I inch closer, I can clearly observe the temperature increase. The closer I get, the warmer it grows. I see her now, she wanders aimlessly. Her tail also whips back and forth, the bulb also having turned red. It is unknown why these changes were made to her appearance, perhaps it’s similar to how most Twisted’s eyes have been observed to become red in the scleras.

At the end of that passage there is an ink smear, signifying a panic of some sorts.

I made it back to the elevator. Barely. Brightney turned while I was taking notes and began to chase after me. Her bulb just so happens to heat up further when provoked. Enough for anything flammable that is too close to catch flame. I watched as her face lampshade burned off along with the top of her dress. My notes weren’t spared, they are now ever so slightly scorched unfortunately. I will, however, continue to use this book until it is full of my studies.

Brightney is hyper-aggressive, similar to her executioner.

End of entry for day 54, experiment 2

~~~

Rodger stepped out of the elevator onto Vee’s themed floor, floor 12. Fitting for them to die on their own floor, huh? That thought was a little morbid for Rodger, he tried to push it back deeper in his mind. He had a mission. The bright light was spotted, still lacking the lampshade like when he last saw her, nothing had changed, the self inflicted burns all over her body, the beading sweat that dropped from Rodger whenever he neared. He listened briefly for how far away Vee was. A good distance, he determined. Leveling out his bad arm with his good, he squeezed his fist to fire the small contraption. It sent the dart right into Brightney’s side. Now came the watching and the waiting.

He observed from the shadows, staying out of sight yet ever present when Brightney keeled over in supposed pain. Yet, how could Rodger tell? Something with no face drew no empathy from Rodger, even though that body belonged to one of his closest friends.

The corpse’s tail whipped back and forth, hitting the ground as it writhed. The bulb shattered on the third impact. This appeared to put Brightney into more agony. She panicked and rolled over onto the shards of glass. Rodger had to wait for the head to dim. He had to wait for it to stop burning. He had to wait and watch and watch and watch. He had to watch the bulb dim from red. He had to wait for it to dim from red. As long as it was red, it would burn him if he got close. The glass ingrained in her skin made ichor cuts pool out of her. Rodger thought this could be a good thing, with no face she didn’t have any other way to expel the toxins from her body. He wondered how much longer this would take.

The filament stopped glowing bright, yet the red tint of the bulb remained. Rodger approached the still creature, heat still radiating off of its burns on its upper body. He gently lifted it, grunting when a slight jolt of pain shot up his injured arm from the use. He took a tentative step to steady himself which sent a shard of glass into his left paw pad. He exclaimed and fell back, Brightney limply slumping into him. Carefully, he extracted the glass, drawing out the gooey strings of ichor with it. This meant another shot of cure to be safe. Yay him.

Rodger scooted with Brightney away from the mess under her. He rose shakily, stifling his cries. If he made too much noise, Vee would surely find him. He thanked Arthur for the large Vee arcade layout in his head. He made his way back to the elevator painfully slow due to the skipping-stumbling limping he was doing. He sat there with Brightney and finally felt safe to reassure her as their ascent began, “Hey, Brightney… I- I know it hurts… probably really bad. But I’m here to help, I promise. I-I’ll get the glass out. I will. Tisha is back, so is Teagan. Isn’t that nice? Brightney?”

Brightney’s broken tail flicked once. Rodger used his good arm to pull himself closer, as the less-good one throbbed. He extended his hand and put a comforting touch on her shoulder with his shaking injured arm. Then he pulled out a piece of glass. Brightney flinched aggressively. “I-” Rodger found his words died before they came out. He swallowed. “I know.” Was all he managed.

~~~

Teagan almost broke when that elevator opened. They had stayed by it the whole time while he was gone. Every time he went down and risked his life, he didn’t know he was risking all of theirs all the same. Teagan had only been back for what was it now? 3 days? And it felt like a lifetime with the state Rodger fell into after all that time. So many months had passed. So many months. And Rodger was broken. Rodger was so horribly broken. He looked terrible, so deathly terrible. He was starvingly thin, dehydrated, sleep deprived, lonely. He shuddered whenever Teagan offered a hand. He watched everyone die. He watched his daughter die. She could tell in the cold glaze that fell over him whenever they spoke about her. Rodger hadn’t mentioned Glisten once and that meant whatever happened, it was bad. Horrifically bad. Rodger had convinced himself he was desensitized to all the death and gore and violence but Teagan knew better. Rodger was always a horrible liar despite him detecting lies like a bloodhound when it came to a mystery. But this was a case bigger than him. He was unable to seek out his own lies so he began to recite them like a character card.

“This Toon is the one to call when there is a mystery afoot. Rodger is a clever detective who is always eager to solve whatever case that may arise.”

They stared, heartbroken, at the contents of the elevator before her. Rodger sat, Ichor running from a cut in his paw. Brightney sat beside him, Ichor running from cuts all over her. A pile of bloody glass shards between them. Brightney’s lampshade was missing, her lightbulb was out. The two of them held hands. Squeaky and Chomper made distressed sounds and ushered the three of them forward. Rodger held his hand up. “Carry Brightney to her room, shower her, bandage her, replace her bulbs and lampshade. She should be fine.”

Teagan knew that if they opened their mouth the building sobs would break free so she bit her tongue and lifted the broken librarian. She could yell and cry and scream at Rodger later. Brightney was the priority then.

Chapter Text

On floor 8, there lies several horribly crumpled, twisted and torn, crinkled and tightly balled up pieces of paper. The paper contains some of the messiest hand writing known to Toon-kind. It’s big and letters are backwards, smears of Ichor litter the pages yet it appears that’s what it is written with. The pages range from being ripped out from books and notebooks to colorful construction paper. Some have holes, some are only a half page from being torn. Most of them contain spelling and grammar errors. But, when straightened and arranged right, these pages tell a story.

ONCE, THERE WERE THREE BEST FRIENDS.

AND THESE BEST FRIENDS WERE THE LAST THREE SURVIVORS IN A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE.

IF THEY GOT BIT BY A ZOMBIE THEY WOULD LOSE THEIR MIND AND ONLY TRY TO KILL, THATS ALL ZOMBIES ARE CAPABLE OF.

BECAUSE THATS WHAT ZOMBIES DO. DUH

SO THE FRIENDS SAT IN THEIR BUNKER AND ATE THER THEIR PROVISIONS.

WHEN THEY STARTED TO RUN OUT OF THEM, ONE OF THE FRIENDS WENT OUT TO GET MORE. SHE DID NOT COME BACK.

THE OTHER TWO GOT WORRIED AND WENT TO FIND HER BECAUSE THEY LIKED HER.

SHE TURNED INTO A ZOMBIE AND BIT BOTH OF THEM. SO THEY STARTED TO TURN INTO ZOMBIES BECAUSE DUH.

THEY STARTED TO ROT, ONE OF THEM STARTING WITH THEIR EYE. THE OTHER WITH HIS MOUTH

SO THEY SAT THERE TOGETHER, JUST THE TWO OF THEM. BECAUSE SHE LEFT TO FIND OTHER PEOPLE TO EAT. SO THE FRIENDS SAT THERE.

WITH NO PROVISIONS TO EAT.

AND ONE DAY, NEW SURVIVORS CAME AND TOOK ONE OF THE FRIENDS. THE REMAINING FRIEND FELT SAD AND CONFUSED.

THE NEXT DAY, THEY ALSO TOOK THE OTHER FRIEND. HE FOUND OUT THEY TOOK THEM FOR EXPIR EXPERAM EXPERIMENTATION.

EVERYDAY AFTER THE EXPERIMENTS THEY WOULD BE THROWN INTO TWO WHITE ROOMS. SEPIRATED BY A GLASS WALL.

EVERYDAY THEY WOULD HURT BECAUSE OF THE NEEDLES AND STUFF THE SURVIVORS PUT IN THEIR ZOMBIE BODIES.

SO THEY WOULD PUT THEIR FOURHEADS AGAINST THE GLASS AND WOULD SAY THINGS WITH THEIR ZOMBIE EYES.

THINGS TO HELP THEM GET THROUGH IT ALL.

THINGS TO HOLD EACHOTHER WITH WORDS.

THINGS TO SAY THAT THEY COULDNT.

THEY KNEW WHAT EACHOTHER WOULD SAY WITH THEIR EYES BECAUSE ZOMBIES CAN TELEPATHICALLY COMMUNIGATE DUH.

IF YOU DIDNT KNOW THAT YOU ARE DUMB.

ONE DAY THE EXPERIMENT WORKED AND THEY LET THE ZOMBIES OUT. THEY WERE NOT ZOMBIES ANYMORE. AND THEY HUGGED.

THE END.

Maybe those smears resemble something of teardrops fallen on the page. But who could tell, really? And who was there to read any of this? Only the author. No best friends, no experimenting survivors, just one zombie. Rotting, rotting, and rotting indefinitely.

Chapter Text

Rodger was one of the smart Toons, one of the Toons that Delilah trusted… back when Delilah was around. She knew he was smart enough for her to trust him and smart enough that he wouldn’t use his intelligence to reveal any… not so kindly secrets. So Rodger got a door on his room, first of all (really the only toons WITHOUT doors were the odd ones) and second of all, he had a lock on that door.

After limping with one hand on the wall all the way back to his room, under the safety of everyone caring for the newly cured Toon, he slumped into his shower. The bathroom was dim, Delilah knew he had a sensitivity to light. He didn’t bother to take off his suit, what’s another one ruined after all? Honestly the only thing keeping him together before Gl- the other Toons Twisted was his capability to appear calm, collected, prim, and proper. Straightening his ascot or tie or bow tie in any mirror as he passed by, or even Glisten’s face. But now he didn’t even have that. His favorite suit is still under repair by Tisha after Cosmo slashed through the sleeve, most of his other suits had been slicked and stained with Ichor. Rodger avoided mirrors now.

Perhaps it would be best to replace his other bandages when he fixed up his foot. Rodger stripped himself of his dripping suit jacket and sopping white button-up. He glared at his dominant arm, his right. The bandages were soaked through with the Ichor he hadn’t allowed anyone to see. With moving and buzzing and talking with his arms as an expressor making up for that lack of a mouth, it hadn’t allowed a proper scab to form so he bled throughout the day. He was able to ignore it. For a Toon, he had a high pain tolerance for some reason. He unwrapped the bandages and sat in the shower letting the cold water pound into him for at least an hour as he dissociated.

~~~

“Ah- hot!” Tisha pulled her hand away from the base of Brightney’s lightbulb. The four of them had already cleaned and treated all of her burns and scrapes, Teagan made sure Tisha knew there was a mess to clean in the elevator after this whole repair session, so she was trying to move the process along by replacing her head. Although put out, Brightney’s bulb remained shockingly hot to the touch.

Cosmo stepped closer with a quizzical expression, he slapped his paw right on the top of Brightney’s head. Tisha’s eyes widened and she looked at Cosmo. He looked at her skeptically, “This isn’t hot!” He stated as a matter of fact and began to unscrew the bulb. “I think I’ve burned my paws so much, I can’t feel temperature anymore…” he added as a comment mostly to himself. Brightney sat still, polite. Tisha wondered how she worked.

She came in with the new lightbulb and screwed it on, “Okay! Where’d we put the lampshade? Ah, right here!” With a little bit of adjusting, Brightney’s hands came up to fix the lampshade’s angle herself. Once in place, Brightney’s eyes blinked open.

“Hello, darling, how do you feel?” Teagan squeezed Brightney’s hand.

Her eyes were wide with wonder as she eyed three of her friends that were dead last time she remembered, “You have… a creature- No, two creatures… one? You have a creature on you!” Was the first thing she pointed out. Squeaky purred and rubbed their head into Brightney’s hand. Chomper seemed slightly more skeptical but didn’t snap.

Teagan chuckled, “That I do! That one is Squeaky and this one is Chomper.” They pointed out. Brightney took Squeaky in both palms and nuzzled them right back, then Chomper lurched forward to receive attention as well.

“How charmingly peculiar! You are all alive! I am also alive! How intriguing!” Tisha tackled her into the bed, away from the feather boa. “Ah! Tishaaa!” She laughed.

“Ohhhhhhh! I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!!” When Tisha pulled her back up she put her hand to her head, almost dizzy. (Imagine her face is covered in cartoonish kiss marks /j) Tisha giggled and tethered herself around Brightney again.

Cosmo rolled his eyes toward Teagan and crossed their arms, “And she calls ME gay!” Boxten snickered. Suddenly, every Toon jumped back as a book fell off of one of Brightney’s bookshelves.

“Oh! Connie’s still a survivor?” Brightney prompted with a smile.

“Um… no. Connie disappeared after most of her friends twisted, Rodger hasn’t seen her in ages.

“Peculiar! Perhaps it just fell!” Brightney grinned without a concern in the world. The rest of them nodded along and started to catch Brightney up on the mission, their current goals, and everything inbetween.

~~~

Rodger slammed himself through Brightney’s door, left arm supporting his stance on the frame, shaky right hand containing a coffee cup, his notepad, and a pen. “I’m here! How is she? What did I miss?” He asked in a hurry. Rodger walked in a fashion he hoped showed no sign of a limp. However it only spiked pain in the fresh wound with each step. He spilled half his coffee the way here, he would have to pour out the rest of the pot when he returned to his room. He already could tell that tonight would be a ‘research night’ which he hadn’t done in a long while.

Boxten was the only one still with her, the rest of the Toons had probably gone to prepare dinner. Was it dinnertime already? “Oh hey Rodger!” Boxten sighed with relief.

“Rodger! Magnis! Oh, my friend! It’s been too long! Our friends have told me of the progress and research you have put yourself to and I can’t say I’m any less but proud! Ha, I should’ve come to expect this from you!!” She sprang up and enveloped Rodger in a tight hug, stinging his arm as she squeezed.

“Woah! Take it easy, Lumen!” Rodger chuckled, “You might re-open something!”

“Please, Rodger! I feel better than I’ve felt in months! I think! You aren’t conscious when Twisted,” She noted, appearing thoughtful. “However, once you cured me I felt a fraction of that pain! So I assume I’m feeling MUCH better! I believe all the cuts are closed and the burns’ scar tissue is only a micro amount of tender!” Rodger nodded and set his mug on a chair nearby. His ever-present even handwriting was in bad shape with a quivering warm hand. But he proceeded in his efforts of scribbling down the observations Brightney had commented upon.

“Y’know, I KNEW I had heard your voice down there! You’re good at all that! So, you specially chose me for this extraction team? I’ll be much stealthier than before, I promise you that, Magnis!” She winked. It was a little fun they had, calling eachother by their last names, after an episode where they had worked together to solve a case. After that, the pair realized how alike they really were and became inseparable, practically the same person. Sharing thoughts, theories, even finishing sentences. They were unstoppable, coming closer to finding a key to bring Toons back. Without a point Brightney had brought to light, Rodger might’ve never had come this far. Then she died.

He felt a glow in his chest, he had his Lumen back. “There’s your smile! By that I mean your delighted expression despite your lack of a mouth. Oh, I apologize for the unwarranted hug, I know how finicky you can be with touch-“ Rodger grabbed Brightney and…

“What was that?” She almost snorted in laughter. “Did you just kiss me?”

Rodger’s eye widened with embarrassment, “Oh- no? Yes? I don’t know? I haven’t an idea of what came over me, never done that before. And- and the touch thing, I- I don’t mind that anymore.” Rodger’s stammering could barely be heard as Brightney leaned back and howled with laughs. “Oh come on, you don’t have to be like THAT!” He whined

“You’re right! You’re right! Sorry- that just caught me off-guard, Maggie.” And of course, the last-name-calling had turned into last-nick-name-calling over the years. Rodger blushed. “I appreciate the gesture, I know you’re glad to see me. You’re my best friend after all!! Never took you for the ‘kissing your homies’ type though.”

“Well-“ Rodger coughed in shame, trying to make himself look less… HE DIDN’T KNOW! “A few months can change a detective, Brightney!”

Brightney smiled empathetically at her best friend. “Boxten and I were talking,” She diverted the subject, “He’s going to stay the night with me in hopes to catch a break from nightmares and we were going to ask you about it because Boxten stays most nights with you.” Boxten looked relieved that Brightney had spoken the topic for him.

“That works perfect! Let’s go see what the others are preparing on the kitchen, shall we?” Rodger clapped his hands together and focused REALLY hard on not-limping and showing how much decently excruciating pain he was in.

~~~

“Ha, ha, Teagan. Very funny!” Cosmo had returned to the section of the counter they had prepared for making their homemade pasta. In the flour he had poured on the counter was written the word “BOO!” It was obviously Teagan because no one else was around let alone in the room. Cosmo began to reshape the flour.

“What’s funny, dear?” She asked after tossing the ingredients Cosmo had grabbed for the sauce from the pantry into the saucepan.

Cosmo eyed her, “You wrote boo in the flour?”

“I do not recall! Couldn’t have been me, I was cutting up the tomatoes.”

His glance turned into a glare. “Suuure.” As he reached for an egg he set out, his paw grasped empty counter space. Instead of being on his left side, the eggs were on the right side of the counter, on his claw’s side

“I could’ve SWORN…” he murmured to himself and cracked an egg into the center of the flour. The other egg decided to promptly roll off the counter and splatter on the tile. “I didn’t even touch that! Grrrbrbrb stupid blind spot….grrrrbrbbbrbrbrgrrgrb.” Cosmo grumbled as he reached for the salt shaker and sprinkled the salt over the fallen egg.

“What are you doing that for?” Teagan asked curiously.

“Just a trick Sprout taught me, helps clean up the egg.”

“Huh, you know I was wondering why they entrusted us with dinner, we only have two eggs- er, eyes between us.”

“HA! EGGS! Speaking of, go ahead and get me another out of the carton, please.”

“Of course, Cosmo!” A few moments later came a confused, “Whu- Why would you-“

“What is it?” Cosmo rose and peered around Teagan to be met with the same befuddling circumstance. Inside the egg carton, the one that he had fetched the eggs from moments before, there were different flavored candies. On one was a sticky note that was stained with ink but the statement ever so slightly recognizable read, “trick? More like trick or TREAT!” The two of them shared the most discombobulated squint and Cosmo simply closed the fridge. When they opened it again not even a second later, there were the eggs!

“Are we… going crazy?” Cosmo asked.

~~~

“-and THEN we FINALLY finished the pasta! And we are still entirely clueless on how it all happened and-“ Cosmo cut off from their story to the half-listening-half-convinced this story was entirely fabricated Toons abruptly. “Rodger…” he began slowly, “What did you say Twisted Connie was like?” This caught almost everyone off guard, even Teagan who was supposed to be in on this whole thing. Cosmo looked at Brightney… no not at her, above her.

“I haven’t a single idea, for as far as we know, she could be in another country after abandoning us here months ago.” Rodger scoffed and swirled his coffee (what number cup was that by now? Was anyone counting?) “Why?”

“She’s… she’s right there,” Cosmo pointed. Everyone turned. And nothing! There was nothing there.

Rodger sighed, “Oh this is like the camping episode all over again…”

“No! No I swear-!”

~~~

“RODGER!!”

He bolted up on his desk where he had been hunched over, scribbling furiously. Boxten’s hands clenched his shirt-tails with the typical, late night, just-had-a-nightmare expression that Rodger had come to be used to by now. “BRIGHTNEYWOKEMEUPANDSHESATUPINTHEBEDANDHEREYESWEREBLACKANDHERMOUTHWASGAPINGOPENWITHTHISGASPINGSTRANGLINGSOUNDANDANDHERBULBGLOWEDBLUEANDIJUSTCAMETOGETYOUBECAUSE-“

“Woah, woah! Boxten! Slow down, I’m here. I got you. Come here, darling.” Rodger eased, the endless stream of word vomit halted as Boxten slid to the floor next to Rodger in his chair. He put his head in his lap. “Boxten, dear, it was another nightmare, sweet thing. You’re okay.”

“It- it just felt so real, it wasn’t a dream, I was sleeping perfectly fine before she woke me,” Boxten whimpered in a whisper as he began to cry. This wasn’t any uncommon occurrence for the two.

~~~

After another 4 cups of coffee and absolutely no sleep later, Rodger was ready to begin the day, haven taken notice of the list on the fridge. He supposed that each Toon on the extraction team for the Shelly rescue mission should be armed with at least two vials of Cure, he should start preparations immediately!

He was about to turn away from the fridge when he felt a cold breath down his neck that made chills go down his spine. “HOLY JESUS-DELILAH-FUCK! RODGER WATCH OUT!” Cosmo shrieked and Rodger pivoted so fast it hurt. He clutched his collar of his navy blue button-up.

“Great god, Cosmo, you scared me half to death! What is wrong with you?! This whole ‘TwIsTeD cOnNiE’ has GOT to stop!” He scolded.

“SHE WAS RIGHT THERE! I SWEAR ON SPROUT’S LIFE! Wait… that doesn’t really work now that she’s dead, huh?” Cosmo pondered to himself.

Rodger’s eye twitched in annoyance and his glare turned on a rather petrified looking Boxten clutching a bowl of cereal so hard Rodger was concerned it might crack. He muttered something.

“What?”

A little louder, “He’s not lying.”

Well, now even BOXTEN was trolling him, wonderful. “RIGHT. Right. Okay.” Rodger took a deep breath and decided to do his check-in’s on the OTHER subjects.

~~~

With so many distressed sightings, this prank was getting DEVIOUSLY diabolical and coordinated. But Rodger refused to fall for it! Apparently, during his shower-disassociation-session they had all planned an elaborate joke, staging a series of events to try and convince him Connie was there but he was going to get to the BOTTOM OF THIS! He is a detective, after all! Solving things was what he did best!

Maybe they all just wanted to cheer him up because of all the terrifying things this whole thing was doing to his mental health by giving him a lower stakes mystery to solve like Toodles used to.

Rodger whipped out his finest suit (newly repaired and sewn up by his beloved Tisha), his monocle (which Gigi had so kindly retrieved[not stole… hopefully] for him before she Twisted) and his old magnifying glass. Rodger Magnis was ready to solve the case!

~~~

Teagan grinned ever so softly to see Rodger so eager to find out what was truly occuring and although she wanted to believe this was a prank, after what she saw in the kitchen, in the fridge… it DEFINITELY wasn’t. This troubled her. She put her hands out to stroke Chomper, only to find she was petting Squeaky! She blinked, and they had Chomper purring in their arms again. She hoped Rodger would figure this all out sooner than later...

~~~

Brightney didn’t see much out of place, then again she was used to Connie hanging around, invisible, messing with her wherever she went. After Gigi… and when Flutter stopped talking with them, she was always hanging around Brightney. Never quite revealing herself, but being present enough to draw attention. Brightney wished she could understand her better but she was too shy to ever speak directly.

Everyone else thought Connie was Twisted but Brightney knew better. That was just Connie. “It’s okay, you can show yourself to me, Connie.” She spoke after she slid the dislodged book back into its place. Slowly, she came into view.

Instead of her nervous smug expression she used to wear, two gaping black featureless eyes stared straight at her. Tears lines marked by mascara (or maybe Ichor) stains ran down her face. An impossibly large void of a smile extended her dislocated jaw. Their neck was long, bent, and twisted. Her arms laid motionlessly at her sides, dripping ghostly Ichor onto the rug, their hair flowing down and behind her. She seemed to have lost her visor, and the last distinctive detail was the fact that her typically short lower body was much much longer and drifted and faded into the room.

Brightney must’ve appeared surprised because Connie let out a raspy breath and drifted backwards a few inches, already dissipating into thin air. “Wait, don’t go!” She called out gently. Connie paused. “You don’t scare me, not one bit!” She reassured.

Brightney went on, “The others might be frightened if you show them this form, but I know it’s still you Connie. Is it?” Connie did not react, she did not blink, she did not move. She didn’ do anything at all.

“Rodger gave me one of these contraptions, to analyze the function before use. This will hurt for a moment, but will bring you back to normal in just a few minutes. What do you think?” She held up the wristbow cure-launching invention to Connie. Connie did not react. Someone knocked on the door, probably Rodger for the fifth time that day.

Connie vanished.

Brightney groaned, she was so close! But she sighed out, “Come in!” Trying to sound enthusiastic. No matter how much she loved her best friend, he was convinced they were making this up to mess with him. Her only hope was to hope Connie didn’t float too far from the room.

Chapter Text

Brightney ran her fingers through Connie’s ruined hair as she vomited down the drain. The ends of it’s much longer blue length had clumped together with the black goop and was basically in disrepair. She wasn’t any expert on cutting hair and she didn’t want to ruin her hair like Rodger did Tisha. But, there wasn’t any hope shampooing that out so she didn’t have much of a choice. She wrapped her arms around them and rubbed their back, “I’m going to go get Teagan, I’ll be right back. Connie glanced up with their still mostly black eyes and coughed.

~~~

“Great goodness! When you said you needed assistance with something I wasn’t imagining this, dear!” Teagan put her silk gloved hands over her mouth as they peered down at the weak ghostly Toon laying on the floor of the shower, thoughtlessly letting the water run over her. Her empty gaze slowly lifted from the drain, to Teagan and their associate, sending a chill down her spine. “Hello… Connie?” They paused to whisper to Brightney, “You did cure her, right?”

Brightney scoffed, “Of COURSE I did! I just needed you to give them a haircut, I know you’ve done it before.”

“Oh! Right, okay… why does she still look like… like she wants to kill us?” Teagan winced again after making eye contact with Connie once more.

Brightney sat in the shower and failed once to pull Connie close, her hands phasing through them. “Ah! No, no, not again!” She then successfully yanked them towards her. “Oh! There we go! Ah- anyways, she doesn’t want to kill us!”

Teagan felt bad but she took a step back. “None of the others have acted like this. Rodger told me. None of us have acted like that.”

Brightney exclaimed in frustration, she cupped Connie’s cheeks and held her face to her soggy lampshade and grumbled, “Do you want to kill us, Connie? Now, you be honest!” She scolded them like a child.

Their only response was to shift their lifeless gaze away from Brightney’s glowing frustration and blush a bright blue. “This sweet girl is no stranger from playing silly pranks, BUT she wouldn’t try to seriously hurt any of us! Now, will you sit and cut her hair for me... please?”

Teagan took a deep breath, “Alright, dearie, I’ll try.”

~~~

“Aww, don’t give me that look! I think it suits you! C’mon, Rodger will be delighted to have answers for his case!” Brightney said in an optimistic tone as she held Connie’s hand and guided her drifting towards the kitchen. Connie’s gaze hadn’t shifted but she had sat idly in the shower and allowed Teagan to snip away at her long hair. Now, she had a much shorter cut. Her hair sat right on her shoulders and with all of that weight removed it had a bounce to it that gave her wavy hair. It was definitely a new look for the ghost, but Brightney thought it was cute!

The “tear-stains” on Connie’s face had remained in a sort of odd-feeling tissue. Like scars. Brightney would have to inquire to Rodger about this. Along with the scar on her now normal shaped neck, she looked pretty roughed up. However, Brightney had dressed Connie in one of her turtleneck sweaters so that particularly was covered. Connie never was a fast Toon, but once they reached the kitchen she cleared her throat, “I seem to have solved your mystery, Magnis!”

Teagan shifted uncomfortably in her stool. Rodger’s eye widened immeasurably. Boxten gasped softly, and Cosmo launched forward with a point, “SEE?”

“Connie was here the whole time! I used the cure you gave me to clean her up, here she is! I’ve taken notes you may paste into your own incase you wanted to-“

“Oh! Of- of course! Hi, Connie!” Rodger leaped out of his seat, Brightney caught notice of how he limped, even though he tried to hide it. She was observant like that. Connie did not respond. Connie did not react. “How… are you?” Rodger asked, sounding unsure as he looked her up and down.

Connie blinked. She seemed to process who was in front of her. “Oh… I’m…” She seemed to blank on the answer. Brightney smiled from ear.

“Oh you spoke Connie! You’re doing so well!” She squeaked and wrapped her arms around Connie. A glance up would reveal Connie was a shade of royal blue. Brightney let go.

“Hey… Brightney. Hi,” she murmured.

“Hehe, hi Connie!”

“I SWORE you all were playing some elaborate prank on me!” Rodger scratched his head, “but no! It’s just Connie! Well, I suppose with Brightney’s brisk recovery, it’s no issue to take on another. Welcome back. I suppose I have some explaining to do?”

“Ab, so, LUTELY!” Brightney blew out air with a chuckle.

~~~

Connie wasn’t doing as well as the others had. Rodger spent the day trying to figure out how she differed. They didn’t know how or when she Twisted. They didn’t possess any actual wounds other than the scarring from what happened when she was Twisted. They didn’t have a set floor they were on but apparently followed around other Twisteds, and now Toons. She followed Brightney to the Toon Rooms. She didn’t appear to remember much leading up to her death, yet they hardly seemed present at all. It was far worse than how Tisha started. She’s uncoordinated, vacant, and confused. Rodger couldn’t think of why any of this would happen, yet Rodger was never the best with emotional or psychological awareness, was he?

~~~

Connie was cold. She was always cold. She knew that. She was always cold. Normally they didn’t have sleeves, and now they had sleeves. Where did the sleeves come from? It made her much less cold. But they were still cold. For some reason, she was floating near Cosmo. But Cosmo was supposed to be dead… Teagan and Tisha were too. Even Brightney and Boxten were supposed to be dead. Was it a dream? And then she wasn’t floating anymore. She wasn’t floating. She was in a bed. The last time they had been in a bed was with Gigi the night before… Was this Gigi’s bed? Connie didn’t have a bed. She was a ghost, she could sleep anywhere. Was this Gigi’s bed? No, Gigi is dead. Gigi isn’t here. Gigi died. Ah, there Connie is. They remembered. And remembered. And remembered. And cried into her long- no it isn’t long anymore. Why isn’t her hair long? Where is Gigi? Dead. No she’s dead. Connie. Focus, goddamnit. Connie Twisted when she blocked out her memories. Connie Twisted because she couldn’t deal with Gigi’s choice. She wasn’t strong enough to keep her close and then they weren’t strong enough to keep going on. It was a slow process but every second it would sharpen in her memory.

“...!!” Flutter had said.

And Flutter is dead too. Is Connie dead? Has she always been dead? Were they dead this whole time? Connie realized they weren’t dead when they felt warmth envelope them. Someone had their arms around them. And a low yellow glow… Who glowed? Vee glowed, but Vee was dead. Astro glowed, and they were alive, but they weren’t warm. Connie glowed, but she was blue. She recognized the shade. And they plunged into a memory.

~~~

“Alright, how has everyone liked their new books so far? I know we normally just come here to get away and read but with… recent events I thought we could read the same book and talk about it every meeting. It could… keep us close. A-anyways! The book! How’re we liking it”

“Dazz has actually been reading it to me, he thought I would like it, and I do! Isn’t that neat?” Razzle grinned at their brother.

“Glad to see you finally enjoying book club, instead of asking me to help you fall asleep… haha…” Astro commented, like an attempt at a joke.

Connie’s gaze filtered back to Brightney, the whole reason why she was here, the glow of her lampbulb and how she lead with such kindness and excitement. Connie had been scared to talk to her, she was so much… better than Connie was. A better person, a better friend, smarter, too. Connie couldn’t even read. If she wanted to join book club, Brightney would have to read to her. And don’t even get Connie STARTED on how embarrassing that would be to ask for.

~~~

Brightney’s warm thumb on her cheek, wiping her tears away as she hiccuped brought Connie back. This was Brightney’s bed. When… when did she become friends with Brightney? She wasn’t cool enough for…

“What’s wrong?” Connie should answer. Connie… didn’t know the answer though. What was wrong? Her best friends were dead? She failed everyone they knew? They were probably dead, themselves?

Dusty words escaped her quivering lips, “I’m… I’m cold.” Brightney pulled up the blanket and wrapped her whole body around them. And she was warm, so warm.

~~~

Connie drifted through her days, Rodger frowned at her progress, and Brightney insisted she stayed with her until she was feeling better. Rodger hadn’t known Brightney was this fond of the ghost and while it was frustrating to sit around with the cure in their palms Rodger tried to remain patient. She was showing some improvement, even laughing after she told Cosmo it said “gullible” on the ceiling and he looked up. Rodger wasn’t sure if he just wanted to help her feel better or was genuinely fooled. But she still zoned out and would suddenly “wake up” at random points where she would remember who she was, where she was, and what was happening. Tisha was getting antsy, Rodger hoped Connie would come around soon.

“Rodger, sweetheart, put the pen down, dinner is ready” Teagan and their boa had entered his room.

“Ah, thank you for telling me.” He stood up, preparing to go. Teagan smiled and left the room. Rodger felt woozy for a moment before his legs gave out on him. How peculiar. He stood again and chose to ignore his pounding headache and sweaty back. He could worry about that after he made sure Teagan thought he was eating.

Chapter Text

Part one: Love
Song: “I’m trying, I’m trying to let you know just how much you mean to me, after all the things we put eachother through” Demolition Lovers, My Chemical Romance

Comments from my beta reader: “:(”
“MY YAOII”
“I HATE IT HERE”
“i put my head in my hands in absolute despair”
“you want me dead.”

Summary: He dreams of the day his light went “missing”.

He would sleep when they were there with him, because they slept so often. He… didn’t have the heart to tell him why he avoided sleeping for the most part. Truth was, every single time he would be brought back to the day that he stopped resisting everyone else.

And here he was again, after falling asleep. Here he was. No matter how he tried, nothing would change, he couldn’t do anything. No matter what he said, what he did, the same outcome would rear its ugly head. A cruel reflection of how he lived today.

“I was thinking we could go on a supply run. You haven’t done that recently, have you?” Finn startled him, leaning on a shelf. It wobbled and Finn stumbled, he laughed and pointed at him. “Woah! I almost spilt all over the place!” Despite his mean spirited nature, Finn grinned warmly at him.

His reply was sharp, like a bark. A clear and obvious no.

“Please? C’moooon! I wasn’t planning on telling anyone else! It’ll just be you and me, I promise,” Finn put his hands on his knees leaning to reach his gaze as he sat on the couch. He knew what came next. He knew he couldn’t stop it.

He refused again.

“We could get SEAsearch for Rodger! And candy! And not to mention you get to listen to my FINTASTIC shark facts! I learned about a new one earlier today!”

He refused.

“I’ll make it fun!”

He refused.

“We’ll go to floor seven! There’s no Twisteds there!”

None yet. He thought. He begged Finn, he begged for them to stay there for the day.

“Nooo, just INK about it! It’s better than sitting around here on your BOOTY all day!”

He said that it would be a waste of time. He said that they wouldn’t find anything. He said that… they just couldn’t go. He said that it would end badly. He said that they would die. Finn didn’t listen. Finn never listened. They went back and forth, longer than he had gone before. New puns he had never heard before and even though they were… arguing. He wanted to cry in happiness when he heard Finn’s voice saying new things, things that were never actually said.

Because in reality, the two of them had never fought about going down to floor 7. He had just gotten up and gone.

He couldn’t watch it again, he just couldn’t. He didn’t give in. And then… “Please? C’moooon! I wasn’t planning on telling anyone else! It’ll just be you and me, I promise,” Apparently, his memory of the fishbowl had dried up and his subconscious ran out of things to say. He would just circle through the same dialogue over and over and over and nothing would change. When you are dreaming…… you can’t just… wake up. Your dream has to finish. He knew that.

Over and over he just said no. He said no and no and no and no and no and no and no, no, no, no. And he decided to get it over with. He got up from his seat like he had done the first time. Finn clapped his hands together, his tail swished excitedly and his ear fins wiggled back and forth. His heart wrenched in his chest. He wanted to grab this moment and hold onto it forever but he would never truly see Finn again.

His feet dragged to the elevator, past the benches, the two empty shops, the tree. Finn pressed the button.

~~~

“I… forgot to bring a bag, haha. I guess I just have other things on my mind.” Mid way through his shark rant, he realized they had forgotten one of the most important things for a supply run. “I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you about something,” Finn began.

He didn’t want to hear this again.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about what’s going on, about you… about us. I know I’m not the most poetic Toon but you mean a lot to me. Even if you don’t think you do. And I… I was going to ask if we could be closer friends. Like how Rodger and Glisten are. Or- like- how you know. Like Dazzle and Astro are! You get me, and I think I get you.”

And he knew that part of the dream was the part where he could try and say yes, say that he loves him, and will love him. But the words would always rot away deep in his throat. Always. Only for this part. Maybe that was the part that would change their fate. Maybe that’s why the dream wouldn’t let him.

He heard his own words, clear as day, as he always would. “No. You DON’T.” And what he said afterwards faded down because all he could focus on was Finn’s gapped smile faltering and the creaking from the ceiling above. He trained himself to hear the rustic creaking after he dreamed this dream again and again. If he hadn’t been yelling at him, maybe he would have heard it the first time. Even as he ranted on about all the things he despised about Finn. None of it was true. He only wanted to tell him that it was always a lie. If he could change one thing, he would tell him he loved him, that’s all he wanted to do. But he lied, and he got too… loud.

And before Finn could reply, the vent cover above them fell open. Two sticky ribbons wrapped around his ankles like routine. And he was flipped over his head. Like a spider, descending from a web, Yatta crawled out of the vent, face hollow and torn, stomach ripped open. She moved meticulously, in almost slow motion for him. Her claws reaching to rip him open. Finn screamed, he looped his arms under his armpits and threw him to the ground. His ankles burned and itched from where the Ichor-slicked tails had held him. He looked up to see Finn spin and whack the faceless, upside-down piñata with his tail.

Finn faced him, mouthed his name (though he heard no sound from his mouth), and yelped, “GO!”

Like a coward, he ran for the elevator.

Then as Finn’s scream rang out, there was a sound of glass breaking.

Then he woke up. His first impulse was to grab onto his friend and hold him tight. But then he remembered where he was. He had fallen asleep in the hallway with all the paintings. And he had no friends. And he would cry, except… when he started crying after Dazzle’s disappearance, he never ended up stopping. And a progressive stream of inky black, foul smelling tears stained his skin with the rest of the ichor crawling on his body. Would he lose his eyes too? Would he die eventually? If he did die… would he be stuck there, in that nightmare of Finn? Shrimpo didn’t know. And he didn’t know whether he wanted to be dead and suffer watching his regrets over and over or keep living and feel the pain and the agony and the suffering every day. He really didn’t know.

Part two: Fever
Song: “So I don't blame you if you want to bury me in your memory, I'm not the girl I ought to be, but maybe when you tell your friends, you can tell them what you saw in me, and not how I turned out to be. There's some kind of burning inside me, it's kept me from falling apart and I'm sure that you've seen what it's done to my heart but it's kept me from falling apart” Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart, Mitski

Comments from my beta reader: “oh hell nah”
“I HATE BEING A BETAREADER what if iI die right now”
“why do you want me dead oh my goddd”
“im so sick i felt it in my chest reading that bro.. holyyy”
“i have no words i cant word HOLY IM SO ILL
RRRAHGRH”
“all i do in this job is suffer bro.. when is it my turn to be happy”

Summary: He dreams about all the mistakes he’s made.

He went to sleep feeling unwell, not like it mattered. What mattered most were the other Toons. Their health, their safety, their happiness. Not his own. He was fine. Perfectly fine. Simply peachy, even! Just fine.

When he woke, he found his room enveloped in darkness. Yet, it wasn’t his room. He rose from the ground in the void. Yet, it wasn’t a void. The floor reflected back to him, and he would be able to see himself if it weren’t for the glass shards spread about the ground. He dragged his sluggish gaze up, revealing that the room was not a room, but a corridor. The path laid out infront of him was thin, the reflective floor only reached so far because it dropped off to the left and right of him. Yet there weren’t any walls, only darkness. If he reached out, he could lose his balance, and fall.

Why was he here? What led him to this?

He took a step forward. And remembered the ground was covered in broken glass. It didn’t help that the stubborn wound on his pad refused to get any better. Glass embedded itself in his foot. A pinch of pain shot all the way up his body with a shiver. When had he started to shiver? Was he always shivering?

He took another step forward. He didn’t know why. Instead of feeling it in his foot, his bad arm screeched with agony, as if the wound had just sparked right then. He grasped his arm. It made the pain worse for a moment, but he knew if he kept squeezing it would go numb eventually. Why did he know that? When did he figure that out? Why did he take another step? Onto the glass? Did he want this? Has he always wanted this?

He raised the opposite foot when he heard a voice. Something familiar. “It’s over, it’s over. It’s been long, too long. You took too long to find the cure. All of us are changed. We will never be the same. And because of your own selfish thirst for answers, everyone you loved is dead. I’m dead. You’re the only one left. Are you happy? Happy that you can finally fix what we started? Happy that I’m gone? Are you satisfied with our work? With my work? Tell me.”

“W-what? Dandy? Where… Where are you?”

“Tell me. Are you happy that Gardenview is empty? You know it’s all your fault. If you never would’ve gone down to ‘research’ the cause of the shutdown. Maybe it would all be the same. Maybe we would still be here. Hm? Tell me.”

“No- it’s- it’s not my fault. Dandy- the ichor was in- infected to begin with. It was bound to happen.” And then the voice and presence was gone. His hurt paw stepped through the glass again.

Another voice, not the same. “Stay out of my business, stay out of Astro’s business, stay out of Vee’s business. And ESPECIALLY stay away from Shelly. I’m not going to let you manipulate her right after she’s lost her best friend.”

It was a reprimand he remembered, one that had happened before. Who had said this to him? “Sprout- I- I don’t know what you are referring to. I’m not in your business. I’m trying to bring you back. I’m- sorry about Cosmo I was looking for- for Toodles!”

“So I wasn’t worthy to be saved? You wanted to leave me to ROT down there? God, you really ARE selfish! Saving your own daughter over anyone else.”

“I was-“

“Dad?”

And then Toodles stood a few yards infront of him. Instead of speaking up into the vast abyss, she was infront of him. “Toodles!” He braced himself to run forward, to greet her. But he staggered. He couldn't go. He just couldn’t. It was the primal instinct to stop you from biting your own finger off, to stop you from hitting yourself, to stop you from running across a bed of glass. Self preservation. Why did it only show itself now? Not when he was letting his wounds fester or his eye bags sag or his stomach growl. Only when it was the most selfish option.

Toodles let out a sob. “Why did you even let me down there? I’m- I’m scared of the dark, dad, it’s dark. Why did you bring me with you?”

He clamped his arm tighter as he choked, “I didn’t think- we didn’t know at the time that he would be hostile. Toodles, you know- I wasn’t-“ His feeble attempt at reassuring her faded away as Toodles bit her bottom lip and began to cry.

Rodger could never stand the sight of his daughter crying, it tore him to pieces.

“Why can’t you come be with me?! Why can’t you save me?! Why can’t you just walk over here? What’s stopping you?! Dad!” She whimpered through the light sobs.

“No, no, I’m- I’m coming. Toodles, dad’s going to be right there, sweetie. I won’t let anything else hurt you, we’ll figure it out.” His breaths were shallow. Toodles looked almost horrified as her father made his way across the glass. He exclaimed in pain every step he took. Agony overwhelmed his senses. He fell to his knees when he reached Toodles. He pulled her close, something he hadn’t been able to do in so long, too long. His shoulders began to shake with the hiccups that occurred when he tried to hide his crying gasps.

He pulled away slightly, if just to look at her. Her head was cracked open. Ichor was everywhere. He shoved the Twisted away and fell back on his behind. Glass cut through his palms. And then he blinked and she was gone.

“You brought… you brought her down there with you?” Teagan looked down on him.

“She-“

“You BROUGHT HER DOWN THERE? YOU- YOUR IGNORANCE GOT HER KILLED?” Teagan shrieked, she covered her mouth in shock.

“She wasn’t supposed to be down there! I- by the time I found her- it was- was too late! Please, Teagan! I promise! It’s not my fault!”

Teagan moved further from him when he reached a bloody hand in her direction. “I die, and not only do you fail yourself, you fail your own daughter. You are a worthless Toon and a terrible father. How she got there doesn’t matter, it’s the fact that you allowed her death to happen.”

And then they were gone.

“No! Teagan! Don’t leave! I’m sorry! I’m- I’m so sorry! No… no..” he put his head in his hands as he cried.

“She’s right, you know.” Tisha in her old blue dress knelt beside him. “You can’t take care of yourself. You’re downright pathetic. I hate that I had to take care of you. You’re so selfish. Everyone you rescue, you only do so to help yourself. You’ve never cared for any of us or our needs as Toons.”

“B-but-“

“There’s no ‘buts,’ you know I’m right.”

“You even needed my help to make a cure. Then you watched me as I suffered. You watched on after you made me feel the pain in the first place. Ironic that you face the same situation, huh?” Brightney had replaced them, standing before Rodger with her arms behind her back. “You never could’ve saved anyone on your own.”

“You couldn't even save me, and you were right there when I died,” Glisten tilted his frame up to shimmer’s face. The only expression that painted his face was cold disgust.

Rodger awoke hyperventilating and sobbing in his bed, digging his nails into the flesh of his arms from grasping so tight. He was shaking and sweating hard. He was freezing. It was all a dream.

Part three: If
Songs: “Dream girl, come, and sweep me off my knees. I’d rather stay asleep than never see you wake up next to me.” That’s Enough, Let’s Get You Home. Will Wood
My Love Mine All Mine, Mitski

Trigger warning: Body Horror (if you made it through the Boxten nightmare a few chapters back then you should be fine) (if not skip over this part <3)

Comments from my beta reader: “i hate being the knower bro #freeshelly”
“MY YURI!!!”
“:(“
“i hate my job”

Summary: She dreams about what she could’ve done if she was alive.

She was the first to succumb to what everyone else would come to call ‘Twisting’. She didn’t know how she broke the machine. But it broke. And for almost 200 days she rotted down on floor five. Endlessly ‘cleaning’.

Now that they had been rescued, they learned what had become of the others. To everyone except Rodger. Where were the holiday Toons? Where did Dandy and Dyle go?

She had learned that she got off easy. When she Twisted, her eyes turned red and her ichor turned sour. Boxten’s teeth had sharpened, a parasite lived in his head. Poppy turned into nothing but goop. Finn’s head was broken open and his body turned sharp and jagged. Gigi dragged himself around on her arms, now massive and broken. Teagan’s boa had fused to their body and she had become larger. Half of the twins’ faces had been cut apart. Yatta roamed the vents, her entire face missing. Looey was slow and sluggish because they had become water-balloon-like. With ichor in place of water. Sprout and Cosmo’s arms and faces were destroyed. And Shelly… oh Shelly.

They didn’t often dream. They only dreamt when they slept alone. They didn’t often sleep alone. But some nights, no one would ask to sleep in their room or vice versa. And they would sleep alone. And they would dream.

Dream of what might’ve drawn Shelly to her fate.

In their dreams they would see her. She would stand there with a solemn yet not quite sad expression. And they would study eachother. Shelly was an ammonite fossil. She was obsessed with dinosaurs, aspiring to be one. She had a multitude of onesies themed after them, even. When they would clean, she would follow them around and tell them about dinosaurs. And even if they already had heard about a particular one, they would never stop her. They loved her voice. And if they weren’t there to listen, who would?

That was a theory. When she died, no one would listen to Shelly. Shelly would be lonely. Shelly had a lot of confidence issues. She would often ask if she was being annoying, or if she was talking too much. She would always tell her, “No, you’re never annoying!” She was her best friend. She didn’t know how she coped with her death. She didn’t know how long she lasted. She didn’t know how the other Toons treated her.

They all had an awful knack of forgetting about Shelly.

She didn’t know how that was possible. Shelly was the brightest light in her world (other than Brightney in a literal sense, of course). Shelly lived her life with so much joy and color and somehow... no one managed to see that. No one but her. And Teagan and Yatta she supposed. Astro would try to check in on her on the occasion. But Teagan would busy herself with the tea parties, Yatta with her circus troupe, and Astro with their book club. Not to mention that Teagan died to-

The dream changed. Teagan stood next to Shelly. They spoke. “Shelly, dear, I- I don’t think you should go near her. She’s… Twisted.” Is this what happened? Was Shelly with Teagan when she died? Shelly turned to look at her, startled that she appeared.

“I… You are too… aren’t you? You’ve been Twisted since you disappeared a month ago.” Shelly asked Teagan. Her brow knitted, like they were conflicted.

“How? How did I disappear? I don’t— recall.” They backed up, away from the two other Toons.

She felt herself moving forward. Teagan had spilled a few drops of sweet tea on the ground. A mess. Her first instinct told her to clean up. And then Teagan’s head was in her hands. And then there was more mess than there was before. Her own hands were soaked through with black. And Shelly had seen the whole thing.

They got up, looking down at the mess. Shelly kept staring at Teagan’s corpse. Except, she wasn’t dead yet. She woke, she sat up. They put their gloved hand to their cracked head and began to panic, “Oh dear, oh goodness, this is no good at all.” Her hands and gentle voice shook. She took her sparkling gold purse from a pocket in her lean dress, freshly stained. She gathered the porcelain shards around her and tenderly put each fragment into the purse. What was this? Their imagination? Their memories. Had they seen this scene play out as a Twisted? Why did it only surface now? She didn’t want to see this. She didn’t want to see this! It was a reminder of what she did. It was horrific. Was this Teagan’s final moments? Bleeding out from their head and trying to pick up after herself? How did she know to gather her fractured head?

They covered their mouth and closed their eyes as they turned away. Shelly spoke and they opened their eyes to look at her, “Teagan’s afraid of the premise of Twisteds because of what you did to her. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you. It’s like… they didn’t care. No one cared once you were gone. And… I had to make them care.”

“Shelly, you’re perfect the way you are, I’ve always told you this.”

“No one was around to tell me that. You died. You left me on my own. And now we’re both gone.” Shelly’s shoulders began to shake and tears of black started to pour out of her eyes. She whimpered.

She watched as Shelly fell to the ground and started sobbing. She watched as she cried harder until she let out a shout of pain. She was now on her hands and knees. She screamed again and her the top of her tan sweater had a lump come up under it. It tore through as a large spike. Barely disguised spine bones cracked and reformed into a series of spines, soaking her back in her own ichor. Shelly’s spikes were black in color, probably from tearing through her insides to escape. Her screams became a chorus when Teagan’s bones splintered themself, to reform to be taller.

An extra long spine emerged from Shelly’s rear, going further and further, becoming larger and larger as it became the start of a tail. Shelly fell on her side, her arms going limp. Her legs began to shake fervently, until they broke. And reformed. They were larger, her paws became claws. They became… What was the word? Digigrade. The increase in size tore her skin apart, and her legs were almost coated in a layer of Ichor.

She got off easy. And it was all her fault. She died first. She was never there to save her. If she hadn’t died, none of this would ever happened.

Tisha woke with a gasp. They put their hands over their eyes and tried to breath. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

Part four: Useless
Song: Better Than Me, The Brobecks

Comments from my beta reader: “oh i hate it here”
“NONONO BUDDY NO PLEASE IM GONNA RRRGRGHRJ i hate my job i thought this wouldnt be as miserable and i was so wrong
if i kept commenting it'd just be a bunch of
"NONONO" and "what if i start crying" so this is what we got”

Summary: He can’t do anything right

Trigger warning: Implied self-harm !

He was useless, so useless.

So, so, so useless.

Everyone hated him.

They just didn’t say it. They just didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

But it was clear.

Obvious.

Every nightmare was different, every night. Something new.

Something to be ashamed of.

It was so embarrassing.

Nightmares.

He always had to be held and comforted after one. He would wake the others up, they would lose sleep.

They hated him.

And… that made sense.

He’s useless, a liability, a waste of air, space, food, and energy.

He didn’t deserve to be alive.

Tonight’s nightmare was dead-set on showing just how useless he really is.

He held Rodger’s back with one arm and his head with the other hand. They were both covered in Ichor. Rodger had a large crack across his face, his right arm was limp, the old wound infected and reopened. Rodger was shaking, or maybe he was. Maybe it was both of them.

“You… you gotta heal me, I- do you have any cure left?” Rodger grunted and shifted in his arms. The main problem was a stab wound through Rodger’s middle.

He didn’t know where that came from.

But it was there.

And it was killing Rodger.

And somehow it was all his fault.

“I- I- I- can’t! Cosmo and Sprout didn’t- didn’t teach me how! It- it didn’t- didn’t matter before!” He cried.

Rodger’s eye was taking longer and longer to open after it closed each time he blinked.

“Stay with me! Please! I can’t do it without you! Without… Glisten,” he pleased.

“Can… could you perhaps play that song I like?” Rodger asked in a polite whisper, he brought his good arm up to his cheek. He leaned into Rodger’s touch.

“Rodger…” his voice broke. He willed the key on the back of his head to turn, imagining the notes and rhythm in his head. The only sounds in the room were the click-click-click of the key and them breathing in the same air.

His key unwinded.

And…

Nothing.

Silence.

Quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

“You… you can’t play… music?” Rodger winced. “You… you can’t do the very thing you were made for? You can’t even do the thing you were born knowing how to do? What can you even do?”

I don’t know.

“Why do we keep you around?”

I don’t know.

“Why did I save you?”

I don’t know.

“I wasted the cure on you.”

You did.

“Sprout and Cosmo taught you how to heal people, and because you can’t remember, I’m going to die.”

It’s all my fault

“You can’t even provide me comfort in my final moments.”

He started to hum the tune. Frequent pauses and shaking notes stuck out like sore thumbs.

Music was the one thing he was supposed to be able to do.

He was a failure.

He paused at the bridge. The sheet music in his head fizzled out.

He forgot how the song went.

And Rodger died.

He woke up crying, of course he did.

He was a loud cryer.

He should go out to the kitchen so he wouldn’t wake anyone up.

He didn’t have a door after all.

So he went out to the kitchen. Craving some sort of comfort.

He didn’t deserve comfort.

He knew the layout of the kitchen well.

He knew where the knives were.

Part five: Disappointment
Song: Good (Bonus Track), Alex G

Comments from my beta reader: “he's ill? HE MAKES *ME* ILL BRO WHATEVER HE'S GOT IS CONTAGIOUS (joke)”
“i sniffle and cry too *name*, me too..”

Summary: She disappoints herself by letting him go

She wasn’t one for dreaming, their head was clean, neat, and tidy. Even after Twisting, everything was okay now. Her mind was sound. She didn’t exhibit any dreams most nights, but that night was an outlier to that fact.

The dream started in Rodger’s room, or more so… she knew it was Rodger’s room even though it didn’t look like anything. Details never stood out to them in dreams. And somehow, she felt disappointment. In herself. She failed him. Did they? How did they fail him exactly?

As if to answer her question, her eyes focused on Rodger infront of her. But it wasn’t just plain Rodger. He ‘stared’ at the glass in his fist. Why was there glass in his fist? He turned his head towards them, the center of his face had been smashed in. He was trembling. She asked him what happened. At least… She thought they did? He may have replied, he might not have.

She knew this would’ve happened eventually. They would delay it. Or do their best too. Making sure he ate, showered, cleaned his room. Often, Tisha helped. But Tisha was oblivious to how bad anything actually was. Naive. Tisha was naive. But… were they a bad person for thinking that? Were they a bad person? Right, Rodger needed help. She reached him and held up his frame. They might’ve told him something, called him petnames and reassured him. But maybe they didn’t. Maybe they couldn’t save him. It was a cycle. He was ill, mentally and physically. He was ill. Maybe there was no fixing him now. Maybe he was a lost cause.

They felt disappointed. Did that make her a bad person? She stopped taking care of him and now he was melting out of her palms. The porcelain under her gloves was stained from long exposure to Ichor. She hated looking at them. She wore gloves but took them off at night. It was reflected in the dream. She felt exposed. Even if Rodger couldn’t see her.

He was melting, Twisting. Damn, she had failed. Did giving up make her a bad person? Would he really be his own undoing if she gave up? What would’ve happened if the cure wasn’t found? What happened to Toodles? To Glisten? How much did Rodger see? Was it bad to herself if she was more concerned about Rodger than making sure if she was okay? Was she okay? She was dealing with the loss of her eye, gaps prevailing in her cup, her boa. They were dealing… just dealing? That’s all they could do.

Rodger had melted into a puddle, the jagged glass lining his empty frame was the only thing still staring up at her. Then he rose, his hands behind his back. How odd, was this what Twisting looked like? You have to die to come back? What drove the infection? Did Rodger know? Why did he deny his status? Deny his symptoms? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he feel purpose? Depression was a complicated thing. But Teagan had failed him. Simple as that.
Did she hate herself? Was she depressed? What was she living for? Why was she even trying? What was happening? She never thought like this. They continued to stare where Rodger’s eye was, once. The room, spinning. Their thoughts, spiralling.

And then Tisha wrapped her arms around her midsection. “Teagan,” she sniffed. “I just had the WORST n-nightmare.” Teagan blinked. Her boa stirred. Squeaky and Chomper curled into Tisha as one of them began to purr.

“Hah… me too, darling. What happened, sweetheart?” She tilted Tisha’s chin up.

Tisha hesitated, “I think I watched myself kill you. And then you Twisted. And Shelly did too.”

“Oh my… well thank you for waking me,” they shifted to make the both of them more comfortable. “I was having a nightmare of my own.”

“Oh, really? Well, can I stay here for the rest of the night?”

“Of course.”

Part six: Burning
Song: First Love/Late Spring, Mitski

Comments from my beta reader: “im scared bro”
“NOOO”
“This job sucks..”

Summary: He dreams about a memory. And he tries to ignore it.

He loved baking, he would bake all the time… that is when they weren’t helping Sprout cook! They loved helping Sprout cook, too! But baking was their calling! Their passion! He placed the cookie tray in the oven. Sprout set the timer. He coughed, “So… what’s going on with you today? You haven’t been really conversational at all and I…”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be!”

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t been messing around like we usually do,” Sprout fidgeted with the friendship bracelet around his wrist. “It’s just… I’m going to assume you haven’t heard?”

“I don’t think I have?”

Sprout avoided their eye contact, “They found Looey today.” Ahh, so it was this memory he was reliving today. They cringed at what they knew they would say next. Like tossing too much salt in a cookie batch. Or… a wound or something.

He clapped his hands together, “That’s great! Is he okay? Is that why we’re baking? Are we gonna visit him with the cookies?”

Sprout shook his head sadly. “No. Looey’s…” the word got caught in Sprout’s throat, he made a choked sound and covered his face. He sank against the cupboards he was leaning against, onto the floor. They rushed to his side.

“No, I- I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” He put his paw around Sprout. Sprout pulled his knees close.

He explained, “I wanted to make the cookies for the other two members of the troupe.”

They gently guided Sprout’s head so it would rest on his shoulder. “That’s really nice of you!” he reassured.

Sprout sniffed, “I can’t help but feel like it was my fault.”

“Why?”

“Looey… hasn’t- wasn’t taking any of this well. Ever since the shutdown they were… struggling. There was a lot of pressure on them to lead their group and try to cheer other Toons up. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but to him, it was. He… seemed to crumble, faced with it all. We don’t know how he Twisted but… he did. And they’re gone. I was trying to look out for them, to check in on them, to make sure they were doing okay. But I got caught up in other things. I forgot to talk with them as much. And they’re gone.” Sprout was crying now, an upsetting sight for his best friend. He leaned over to push up Sprout’s half-frame glasses that were slipping down his face.

“Rodger found the cure, remember?” Now he was out of the memory’s script. He could say what he wanted to. “After I bring you back, we can bring Looey back, I promise. I’ll get you a glass of water, sit tight!” They stood and ruffled Sprout’s leaves before going to the upper cupboards and getting a glass. He opened the fridge and lifted the pitcher with some effort from his claw-hand. Since when did he have the claw hand in this dream? Whatever. As long as they still had both their eyes. The water poured unreasonably slow, it agitated him.

“Hang in there, this dream is weird, my water is being rude.” He told Sprout without turning around. Music drifted into the kitchen. Which was odd, considering he didn’t often listen to music unless Boxten was baking with him. Now… not so much, considering Boxten has been unable to produce the aforementioned music. He recognized the song from somewhere. It clicked, this was Dandy’s favorite song. Honestly, he missed the flower. He never knew why Sprout hated him so much.

He kept on leaning down to check how full the glass was. He groaned. The song kept repeating but at the same time it was changing. An underlying sound kept getting louder and louder from underneath the music. What was it? He couldn’t quite pinpoint where he had heard it from. Now, it was the only thing echoing in their ears (they didn’t ACTUALLY have external ears, it was likely that they were built into the swirls on the sides of his head. Despite the fact that he was supposed to be based on a dog of some kind.) What was it?

Distracted, he looked down at the glass again and the water was pouring over the sides and off the counter. It dribbled down onto the tile. He cursed and righted the pitcher, then set it down. How had that happened? The last time he paid attention to that glass, it was half full. The ‘sound’ was more like a deafening alarm or siren, practically hurting to listen to. He turned around to the rest of the kitchen.

Their eyes widened when he was met with the sight of the entire kitchen set aflame. They dropped the glass and it shattered on the ground when he stumbled back to catch himself on the counter. That’s what the sound was. The kitchen timer. Flames danced around the whole kitchen, burning through wood cabinets and growing from the open oven.

Sprout was no longer hunched over on the ground. In his place was a beast beyond Cosmo’s imagination. A hulking monster standing 6 feet taller than him. It looked like Sprout. It had his leafy hair (now long down his back with no ponytail), it had his red skin (now withered and dull, a slash through his shoulder and missing an eye), and it had his scarf (now whipping back and forth behind him like a tail, long and pointed). But more importantly, the wrist he once kept his bracelet on had twisted into a massive claw the size of a Toon. Just like Cosmo had as a Twisted.

What was this, why was the dream showing this to him? He didn’t even know his subconscious could create such a thing. It was almost like it was real. Something he had seen… maybe he had. Maybe this was what Sprout looked like right. now. Maybe he really was a monster. A monster in pain. A monster that he had created. Where else could he had gotten the gash on his shoulder? It stretched down his chest, four clear cuts where all 4 of his clawtips had cut through him. Almost as if he didn’t flinch back, like he didn’t fight. Like he wanted this.

Cosmo woke up. Surely, that wasn’t real. He didn’t remember being Twisted in the slightest. Yet, the image of his best friend, forever changed, was burned into his mind.

Part seven: Secret
Song: “I don’t understand why you hurt you when you take such good care of me.” Tea Leaves, Madilyn Mei
Amygdala’s Rag Doll, Ghost and Pals (Doesn’t actually fit this part that well but it makes me think of RRP Connie)

Comments from my beta reader: “😓”
“AUGHHHH”
“GODD i shake him by the shoulders”
“☹️”
“the frown i frowned..”

 

Summary: She dreams of the first time she found out about his secret

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic depictions of self-harm and implied suicide. If you are sensitive to this I would skip this part, it isn’t entirely lore important and you do not have to read it if you don’t want to

Another night. Another cold night. A cold night. Everything was a dream for them. A dream state. That’s what Rodger has been calling it. Any moments of clarity were quickly overshadowed by memories of another time. Another time. What time? The time with her friends. Who were her friends? Brightney? When did Brightney become her friend? She was way too cool for her. She was a terrible friend. Where were her friends? Who were her friends? Flutter? No… Flutter hated her. Why did they hate her? Was it-? Oh it- Oh. Right. Gigi.

Moments and memories of Gigi… maybe Flutter too. Brightney insisted her state was slowly unclouding. And maybe because they knew that, it was. They couldn’t feel the difference. Right, it was night. They should sleep. Did they even need to sleep? Did they sleep before? Did they sleep as a Twisted? Did they sleep now? Was it required to sleep to be in a dream state? Were they sleeping now?

Well, they could figure out that last part. Brightney twirling her hair as they faced each other in her bed. She suddenly blushed and blinked with realization. “Oh, h-hey.”

Brightney smiled, “Hey! How’re you feeling?” She wasn’t wearing her glasses, they somehow knew that they were on one of the tables next to the bed.

“I feel like… It’s night. You’re playing with my hair. It’s… heh, nice. My neck isn’t hurting right now. Or my face. You- you wanted to know about that, right?”

Brightney’s bulb glowed brighter, “Yes! That’s wonderful! I don’t think the scars will go away but it’s good you aren’t having any PHANTOM pain!” She giggled.

“Pfft- that’s such a stupid joke, you sound like Looey!” They felt themself smile.

“Yeah, I retrieved a joke book from his room that they borrowed from me before… you know. Well, more so, Tisha was cleaning it and found the book. I think that’s the first time you mentioned them! Mostly you talk about Gigi or Flutter.”

Her face screwed up in confusion. Gigi? Flutter? She had spoken about them? Their mind clouded over. What happened to Gigi and Flutter? What happened to Looey? What happened to Brightney and Connie? Why were they friends? Why were they here? Brightney’s expression flashed recognition before turning somber. What was wrong? Did they say something wrong? Do something wrong? Is that why Flutter hated her? Is that why Gigi was gone? What happened to Gigi? Did they do something wrong? Where was Gigi? The question sent her into another memory. As it did, she knew she was drifting into less of a dream state and more to an actual sleep. Brightney running her fingers through their hair soothed them enough to allow that to be such.

~~~

She wisped down the hall, snickering mischievously. Vee skidded around the corner, “BOOLYNSKI, YOU BETTER GET YOUR SORRY GHOST-BUTT BACK HERE!” He shouted, voice glitching in anger.

“You’ll have to catch me first, you rusty tech!” They whirled around and gave the fuming Toon a salute. Vee was so mad, she had smoke coming out of her vents like in a cartoon… wait a damn minute- She gave them a shit-eating grin before sinking through the floor. “HA- snrck- what a loser!” They giggled to themself. Their face then straightened out with a realization, “Ah… it’ll DEFINITELY tell Brightney. Maybe I should give it… heh… Nah nevermind.” She talked to herself in the next hallway of Toon Rooms, grateful no one else was around. Surely she had time to show it to Gigi before Vee could get the news of the stolen property to her best friend! … Surely!

Luckily, Gigi’s room WAS on this specific floor! She floated through the hallway with much less urgency than before, setting a more natural pace for herself. She passed room after room, Gigi’s was at the end of the hallway. Originally, he didn’t have a door because of all the things she stole. She stole and stole and stole anyway, and no matter how many times the staff (and Tisha) tried to clear it out and return stolen belongings, she would fill it back up even faster. Then, she stole a door. And the key to that door. So that door remains locked so no one besides anyone Gigi allows can go in. Her and Gigi’s rooms were polar opposites, Gigi had thousands of things in her room. THOUSANDS. They didn’t even have a bed. So over time, she definitely had to get used to Gigi’s room. It was a SIGHT for sure. Navigating around and trying to find anything would be a NIGHTMARE… for any Toons that couldn’t just fly over it all (Which Gigi’s best friends could).

She reached his room and phased through the wall, not even bothering to use the door… or knock. They expected to see Gigi going through that day’s loot, finding places to put all of it like she did most days. They boasted, spinning her prize with one hand while the other rested on her hip, “Guess what I managed to pick off Vee! Her REMO-”

She paused abruptly. Their half-lidded eyes, abnormally wide. Gigi was sitting on his crowded bed, head cocked upward with an equally stunned expression. He wasn’t wearing a sweater like normal. She would typically wear hoodies, sweaters, jackets, and other outfits that covered her hands entirely. She had a tank-top on. It appeared to be Shrimpo’s, as it was black with a skull on it. She pressed a towel to her arm. The towel was tinted black. Black. Something black was leaking from her arm. Her… wrist. Her wrist was bleeding. Gigi tried to hide his arms behind his back, acting like they didn’t see. “YO! How’d you nab that?!” She cracked a smile, “Mwehehe, wait, you turned invisible, obvs! Ugh I WISH I could be invisible! Imagine how much stuff I could steal then!”

They rushed towards him and threw Vee’s Remote down on the bed. “What happened? Are you okay?” It wasn’t often that she was a serious Toon, but it made sense to be serious when a friend was hiding a wound of some kind from her. They tried to grab Gigi’s arm but her hand phased through it, she tended to lose physical form when nervous enough. Not only that, Gigi flinched away.

“Don’t!” He yelped.

They floated back slightly. “Why? What happened?” Their thoughts raced. What if she got into a fight with another Toon? What if he got scratched by a Twisted? What would they do then? Would she die? Would they have to leave him for dead on one of the lower floors? What if she Twisted right there and attacked Connie? What if Rodger tied him down to study him in search of the cure? What if she did this to herself?

“Y’know, sometimes I lock my door for a reason.” She snarled, avoiding eye contact. “You should knock sometimes.” He sighed, “Sorry girl, that was mean. I just-- you know-- I know I steal and-- ugh… I’m… I’m sorry.” Gigi’s legs moved up onto the bed. His voice shook and broke. Her eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would find out- and-”

“Hey, hey. Gigi, show me what happened. Its okay”

She removed the towel. Numerous black gashes, linear, neat. Over layers of scar tissue. Over layers of scar tissue. How long… how long… how-

~~~

Oh. That’s where Gigi went. Gigi was dead. And it’s because Connie wasn’t strong enough to save her. It was utter bullshit to call what she was going through a dream state. It was a goddamn nightmare.

Chapter Text

Part eight: Nyctophobia

Summary: She dreams of darkness

She always had the book club. Always! She couldn’t remember a time without it, maybe when she was first made. She had books! She was made to love books. That love for books made her very smart and very knowledgeable. That love for books made her curious! That love for books put the question in her mind, “Did any of the other Toons like books, too?”

First, she spoke with Shelly. She loved books! Specifically ones about dinosaurs… only ones about dinosaurs. Then, she spoke with Shelly’s associates! They were often swarmed by kids so it was difficult to get them alone… but once they did they made pleasant conversation! Vee said she didn’t need to read books because anything he needed to know was already programmed into bot’s systems. But they were eager to hear that Brightney loved books and trivia! She invited her to come to her next trivia event. Astro was a shy Toon at first, when she finally got them alone they almost disappeared entirely! Their antennae would droop and they would try to cover their face with their wings. When she mentioned books, their entire demeanor changed! He became a little less shy after that, she would let him talk and talk about fantasy or books about the stars. They started to read together.

She went around her Toon Room floor and asked if anyone liked reading. Boxten was busy practicing piano, Poppy was out somewhere, Glisten didn’t read, and the craft siblings didn’t like books because it was hard to turn pages with their claws. She was going to give up when Razzle and Dazzle returned from their theatre performance. She assumed they would like reading since they wrote and performed plays. It would appear that one of them did! Dazzle, the quieter of the two said that he enjoyed a good book. It took some convincing, but Razzle allowed him to attend the meetings of their little ‘book club’. Sometimes Connie would sneak in to join them, under the impression that no one knew they were there.

It brought her so much joy to have so many friends and getting to share her knowledge with everyone. Then Gardenview shut down. Then Astro’s handler left, and every other handler. Then Dandy and his colleague, Dyle, disappeared. And they were abandoned with nothing but the trains bringing supplies. Then Tisha ‘Twisted’. The members of the book club continued to meet. Their club was their escape, somewhere to feel normal in spite of the death and horror around them. Then Vee told her he was going to go retrieve something from its floor. She didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary. She thought Vee would return less than a few hours later.

Vee did not return.

She dreams about going to find her sometimes.

They were one of her best friends after all.

Why wouldn’t she go to look for her?

~~~

She stepped out of the elevator. “Vee?” She called into the darkness. The last time she visited she could’ve sworn the lights were on and the arcade games would twinkle and beep with preview showcases of their games. It was quiet now. Her lightbulb increased brightness and she illuminated her own path through the darkness. “Vee? Hello? Are you still here? Magnis, if she was here, she would’ve kept the lights on.”

Rodger hummed from behind her, being another one of her best friends, he volunteered to come with her. For safety, of course.

Why else?

Maybe Rodger had some innate sense of when Toons had turned into Twisteds. Maybe he already knew. Maybe that was why he brought his notes with him. “I say we keep the elevator door open, it’s brighter than the rest of the floor. At least I’ve got a few Lumens to light the way, huh?” Rodger widened his up-turned eye when he made the pun, something rare for the stoic Toon. Maybe he was trying to soften the blow of her loss.

Poster’s with Dandy’s face… or any of the other Toon’s faces- all faces other than Vee’s -were torn from the walls and littered the ground. Brightney hummed as she illuminated the way for the two of them. They reached Vee’s stage. There was a loud thud as someone slammed down on one of the podiums, the screen flashed with a big red X and an alarm rang out. With a loud click, the spotlights on the set turned on and focused on Brightney first, then Rodger, then… Vee? He craned back and let out a sickening, crackly, static-strewn cackle. Then, in full stage voice, clearly at full volume, she announced, “WELL, well, well, FOLKS! Look at the new contestants that have HERE!!!” Mid-sentence she flipped around her microphone tail, which sent feedback all around. There was something wrong. Vee hadn’t done a show since the shutdown, only hosted small-scale trivia games. Brightney hadn’t heard her talk into the microphone at all for months. Its face looked weird. Every second, it would glitch to show random images, or eyes, or blue screens, or random static. Worst of all, bot’s voice was barely distinguishable amongst the static coming from their voice box.

“Vee?” She croaked out.

What used to be Vee rose from her podium. “NO T-tiME for questions, LUMEN! It’s a- a- a- a- a- a- a- GAMESHOW! Question one: HOw- How many VERSIONs are there of VEE! VERSION! ONE!”

“... One.” Brightney answered.

“DING DING DING DING DING DING DI- DI- D- CORRECT!” All three podiums lit up green with the correct answer animation. The spotlights danced around the room for a moment before focusing back on Vee and her ‘contestants.’ Bot flipped its microphone and spoke again. “FU-fuN FACT! There is ONE version of VEE Version ONE and there will always be just ONE version of VEE! NO OTHER VERSIONS! I’M NOT OUTDATED! I DOn’T NEED REPLACE- QuESTION! NuuuuuuMBER! T-T-Tw- ONE!” Her voice dropped. “Are you looking at me? Are you paying attention? Are you having fun?” Her screen had turned black, her stage voice was gone. They stood still, quiet, waiting for the response.

“That’s technically three questions,” Rodger whispered to Brightney.

“Yes?” Brightney answered.

Its face lit up again, “DO Y-yOU want to leave?”

Rodger whispered once more, “Say no!”

“No.”

Vee staggered towards them, the lights followed it as he moved. Brightney could really see now what Vee looked like. Bot’s antennas dragged behind them like they were tugged so hard the wire dislodged, his legs were crooked and the outer metallic shells screeched against eachother when she moved. They were taller, their legs longer. Their midsection between the two green body segments was ripped open, wires dragged behind them. Between each of their plates, a black fluid (maybe oil, maybe Ichor) seeped through the cracks and stained the ground. It was until she was only five feet away from them that Brightney realized Vee was over twice the height she was before. Her mechanic body had stretched and misshapen and broke so that she towered over the other Toons. Brightney squeezed Rodger’s arm. This wasn’t Vee anymore. This was a Twisted.

Bot’s screen flickered and changed. Only their eyes showed now, they were scared. Their voicebox crackled, “Why are you looking to escape? Why are you… upset? Am I not good enough? Are you going to replace me? I’m the star of the show! I- I promise!” Vee was now directly before them, semi-hunched over to look them in the eyes. Brightney could see how terribly she was glitching and jolting.

She released Rodger’s arm and took a tentative step towards the Twisted. Maybe they could fix her. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe the cure was… treating them with softness. Kindness. Brightney took her hand. “I’m not upset, Vee.”

“Brightney…” Rodger cautioned, “I’m not sure-”

“MY- my FAvorITE contestant!” Vee chirped. Brighney smiled. “YOU’LL stay for the GA-GAMEshow, right?”

“Of course! Okay, Vee, why don’t you come with us? We’ll repair you and-” She started to pull Vee towards the elevator, Rodger stayed close and inched behind.

The screech of microphone feedback along with the blare of the wrong answer sound effect made Brightney let go and cover where her ears would be. “You’re going to LEAVE? LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! I’M THE BEST! I’M THE STAR! I DIDN’T FAIL ANYONE! I DIDN’T FAIL SHE- LOOK AT ME! THERE’S NO LEAVING!” She screamed. All of the spotlights but two flicked off, they focused on Vee and Brightney. The filthy wires coiled up surrounding Vee suddenly seized the lamp Toon.

“Rodger!” she called out as Vee pulled her away into the darkness. Brightney didn’t know what happened afterwards but at some point, her lampshade was destroyed and she was plunged into darkness. Sometimes she would dream about that darkness. Yet, is it even dreaming at all if all you see is darkness?

Part nine: Thanatophobia

Summary: She dreams of what she believes happened on a show.

There she was. In her seat. She was always in her seat. He was always in that seat. He had always been in that seat. They couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t in the seat. And the seat was green. And the screen was green. And she was green. Everything was green. Everything had always been green. And it couldn’t take its eyes off the screen. It was the screen. It watched the screen. It always had been watching the screen.

What were they watching on the screen? A gameshow. It was always a gameshow. A never ending gameshow. Trivia, stakes, winners, losers. Always the gameshow. Did anyone ever get prizes? Did she get prizes? Why yes, yes she did. She got to watch the screen. Did anyone on the gameshow get a prize? The host did. The wonderful, charismatic star of the show. He always won. He was the best. They deserved to be watched. At all times. What did they do on this gameshow? They had trivia.

Who was the best gameshow host?

Who is the best main character Toon?

Who was the best Toon EVER?

True or false: this gameshow is the best show to ever be created.

Who caused the Ichor Operation?

Where is Dyle, Dandy, and Pebble?

Where are the holiday Toons?

Why did Tisha go insane?

True or false: I am not responsible for Shelly Fossilian’s demise.

True or false: I am not responsible for Astro Novalite’s demise.

True or false: I am not responsible for Sprout Seedly’s demise.

True or false: I am not responsible for Brightney Lumen’s demise.

True or false: I am not responsible for ANYONE’s demise.

True or false: It’s not my fault.

True or false: It’s his fault.

True or false: Shelly didn’t need me.

True or false: It’s not my fault she got ignored.

True or false: I am the best Toon to ever walk this facility.

Simple questions, really! The answers were obvious! However, the contestants weren’t always the most knowledgeable about these matters. They watched as the host quizzed the two contestants again and again. It was their favorite episode, after all. They got a few answers correct but decided they didn’t want to gamble for the big prize. They wanted to take what they had and leave. Who in their right mind would leave her gameshow? Silly. It was simply silly. Obviously, if you leave you lose. And the one in red was the loser of this game. The one in black and purple ran to see another episode but if you tried to LEAVE, leave. You were cut from the cast.

No one wants to see a loser return to the show. So Brightney was removed from her list of contestants. It watched the violence with a green grin, in its green seat, watching its green screen, in its green room. And then the episode began again.

A part of it was tired of the show. It was the worst part of her. A lingering guilt. The feeling of failure. She couldn’t fail. This part of him confused her. He didn’t fail anyone. Shelly failed herself. Brightney was the one who answered the question wrong. It was the other Toons that stopped showing up to trivia night. Bot couldn’t fail. They couldn’t do anything other than watch its show. The show was all that mattered.

Part 10: Autophobia

Summary: They have no dreams, their life is already a nightmare. They were alone.

Pacing, walking, waiting. Searching, walking, waiting again. It was the perilous cycle it lived its life doing. It wasn’t always like this. They once had a job, a duty. To protect. They were to protect. Protect what? Protect who? Protect everyone? Protect him? Just him. It was supposed to protect him. It didn’t know why it had to protect him but every ounce of Ichor in its body pulled it to that conclusion. It just had to protect him. It was their purpose. They failed that purpose. Failed, failed, failed. It allowed them to get too close. Too close. Too close to him. It wasn’t fast enough. And they took him. They took him up, up, up. He was away. Far away. Up. But it could still see him.

He was up there. His components changed but they just knew it was him. He was up there. They took him away. He moved different, smelled different, looked different. But it knew it was him. It had to be. Who else? Where else? Where would he have gone? Up, he went up. Why wasn’t it fast enough? Why couldn’t it save him? A failure. A failure, failure, failure. They were a failure. It was a failure. What could it do now? Pace, walk, search, wait. Wait for him to come back. Ignore the pain. Wait for him.

When he was taken, it felt more pain than it had ever felt. It pounded and pounded on that door that took him. The elevator. They punched the elevator over and over and over until their giant claw bled. When the claw could take no more, fingers and knuckles broken beyond repair and splattering Ichor on the door, the floor, and the walls, they didn’t want to stop. They wanted to punch in the elevator door, climb up there and take him back. It screeched, a monstrous sound. It sputtered out more Ichor as they snarled, it was creeping around his mouth as he panted, a stinging sensation. It was twitching in rage uncontrollably. Its “normal” arm was suddenly hit with a wave of pain. Its bones broke, reformed, reshaped until it had 2 claws. They were an entirely different creature now. Part of what they had left of their mind told them it was a “Twisted”. The rage in them had boiled over, it changed them.

Over time, that rage faded and gave way to a new feeling. An ache, not physical, but almost. An ache pulled at its chest like something was physically clawing its metaphorical heart out of its chest. It was a realization of sorts. He was gone. They were alone. This shattered them entirely. They stopped destroying things, they stopped pacing back and forth beneath him, they stopped moving entirely. They just watched. It watched him through the levels and levels of rooms. It watched him go throughout his life. Was he living better without them? Was he safe? No. They had failed him. And now they could only watch as he moved above. It knew where everyone was at all times. Everyone. Yet it only wanted to protect him. The detective was hurt, yet, untainted. The scavenger continued to try and find the others. The child hid when they crawled by. The night faded in and out of sight. The stopwatch was alone. The flower was hiding. It knew where everyone was. It knew exactly who took him away from it. And it wasn’t going to stop until every single creature in this building was dead. Except for him. It was going to save him. And it wouldn’t feel so alone.

It began to walk again. Walking, watching, walking again.

Part eleven: Athazagoraphobia

Summary: She was forgotten. She dreams of what led up to that.

She remembered every death proceeding her own. She remembered when someone announced the news. She remembered that with every loss, less and less Toons felt hopeful. They were losing their friends, their partners, their family. One by one, each Toon fell in line on their own funeral procession. It was sickening. She couldn’t stop it. She was trying to, anyway. She remembered trying to be bright and cheery, to put a smile on the other’s faces. But with every death she only felt more and more alone. Alone. It was evident on what she had become. Alone. Being alone was different when the center was open. There were the kids that were interested in her subject but didn’t care to listen. There were the handlers that practically raised them. There were the founders who managed the place and created the Toons. And of course, there were the other Toons. The others would listen, care for, and spend time with her. And sure, she still felt alone but the only time she had to think about that was after dinner in her room at night. With less and less people and Toons, she had more and more time to think about it.

She was alone. She wasn’t anyone’s closest friend. She wasn’t smart enough to be important. Many Toons found her annoying. The amount of time she spent alone was deafening to any hope she had left. Vee stopped seeking her company. Bot didn’t need her help, she didn’t want her presence, they didn’t care to check in on her. No one cared anymore. She would lie in her bed for the whole day until the chefs came around to gather Toons when meals were finished. Then Looey and Boxten died and they stopped going room to room. They would cook and leave it out. Six deaths dimmed the sparkle from everyone’s eyes, the grief was changing Toons. Sprout holed themself up in their room after Gigi… Unless someone was hurt, that was the only time anyone saw them. Cosmo was the only chef still cooking. She didn’t eat most days, anyway.

She was alone. Were they going to forget her if she stayed in bed all day? Did Vee forget she loved to help? Did Vee forget she was her only friend? Vee only focused on finding the cure with Rodger and Brightney. It didn’t care about her anymore. Everyone was forgetting about her. She was alone.

She remembered that when she laid in her bed all day, she would think. She would think and think until her brain went numb. She would re-read her books, re-watch her movies, and think. She hated being alone with her thoughts. She stopped trying to be the brightness in others’ lives, they didn’t need her. She stopped sharing fun facts, they didn’t want her. After doing that for a long while, she got dressed in her favorite sweater, put on her favorite dress, and wore her favorite pair of dinosaur socks. She drifted to the elevator in a daze. No one stopped her, no one greeted her. She reached her own floor. There, she grazed her fingers over the dusty bookshelves and cast fossils. They were never dusty before. Tisha never let them get dusty, even after the shutdown. She looked and saw cardboard cut-outs and posters of herself grinning. She didn’t look anything like that anymore. Her frame hung disheveled on her bones, her posture sank slouched. Her eyes were tired. Tired from crying. Tired from seeing. Tired from being awake. She hadn’t cracked any sort of smile in what felt like ages. When did she stop enjoying life? What marked the point of misery? What had she done to make her so unbearingly alone? The old children’s drawings pinned on the wall reflected almost every character other than herself. Where was she? She found herself ascending to a safe floor, there had to be a drawing of her somewhere, right?

She was alone after that. Everyone forgot about her. She was sure there wasn’t a soul that mourned her absence. Maybe they never noticed. It made her sad. It made her… angry too. She didn’t like being angry. She cried. She cried through all the horrible pain, the agony. She cried. And cried and cried and cried. Maybe they would’ve cared if Delilah and Arthur made her a real dinosaur. Ammonites weren’t cool. No one cared about ammonites. Dinosaurs were what people really wanted to see. She was angry. She didn’t know at what though.

At the founders? At the handlers? At the parents? At the kids? At the other Toons? At Dandy? At herself? She was angry. She was sad. There was something bubbling up inside her. A rage. She was angry at everyone. And they would pay for ignoring her. For forgetting her. She’d become something they couldn’t forget.

Part twelve: Oneirophobia

Summary: They do not have dreams of their own, so they influence the dreams of others.

They lived in a metaphysical state. Was he awake? Was he dreaming? Were they a two dimensional being or a three dimensional one? Was he alive? Dead? Was he light? Was he shadow? They couldn’t seem to decide. Although, that simply didn’t matter to them. They were a creature of dreams, creeping through the awake world and the asleep one. They could change things about others’ dreams. They could always do that. But what could they do? How far could they push things? What were the limits? He sorted through memory after memory, searching for bits and pieces of each Toon’s imagination. Their fears. He wanted to make it hurt.

He loved to see how they would react, the little things fascinated him. How they cried, pleaded, and ached. How they wanted to ignore their living truths and embrace a false reality where everything was okay. He could make them see. He would make them see. They can’t run away from anything in a nightmare if he doesn’t let them. He could hold them still and do whatever he wanted. He could do anything. He could make Rodger realize faults even if they weren’t his. He could make Shelly feel alone even though she wasn’t. He could make Cosmo see what he tried to block out. He could make them all see.

They were truly curious about the mind of a Toon, surely their psychology was different from that of a human. Under too much emotional or physical turmoil, a Toon could Twist. Could he induce this phenomena? What did it truly take for a Toon to become Twisted? What was the limit? Where was that line to be crossed? Was it different for each specimen? Were they made with this process in mind? What could possibly cause this reaction? What could the Toons become?

He knew he was no Toon. They were well aware of their fate. But they could do anything they wanted now! What if they had always wanted to experiment like this? What switch flipped within them? Why did they only create perfect dreams now? What was stopping them before? The dreams they crafted were perfect. Perfect for each Toon. He stalked their dreams like they were his prey. They were his prey. He was almost there with Rodger. Rodger was on his last wit, his last ounce of sanity. He could do it.

He wasn’t bad, was he? They were just curious! They were DYING to find out what they could do, what would happen. They died to put him to sleep. It didn’t work. They died for nothing. He might as well do something with all this time he has.

Part thirteen: Agoraphobia

Summary: He dreams of what should be.

His head felt like it was going to explode. It ached and ached and ached from the overwhelming noise. Every sound was processed in his head like it was turned up to the max. His claws scraping the ground as he dragged himself aimlessly on his floor. The clinking from the chain wrapped around him every time he moved a muscle. The piercing sound of trains passing through nearby. The sound of his tail gliding over the floor and carpets. The wind whistling through the railway tunnels. Over it all, the ticking of his own clock. It ticked and ticked and ticked. It was unbearable. It was torture. Every moment between a tick was horrible anticipation for the next. The noise dug into his brain and made it nearly impossible to think of anything other than the agony of the fate he was stuck to. Of the purgatory he was trapped in.

All alone, he wandered and wandered. This was his fate. This was his fault. Tick. He just wanted to do his job. It’s what he was meant to do. It’s what he was built for. Tick. He just wanted to do his duties, follow orders, help the others. Help the founders. Tick. But Delilah and Arthur abandoned them. They gave him new orders. Tick. Keep them inside, keep them fed, keep everyone out, do not speak to anyone, do not answer questions, do not look for anyone missing, don’t let anyone see you. Tick. And he was going to follow those orders. Without questions of why. Tick. He learned not to question authority years ago. However, questions still did linger.Tick. Why couldn’t he talk to them? Tick. Why was the facility shutting down? Tick. Why did he have to hide?

He flinched with the next tick. It was his fault everything was so horrible. He didn’t follow the rules. He couldn’t remember what precisely he did, but he knew he had broken a boundary. Crossed a line. Tick. It was terrible, what he did. He was terrible. Tick. How dare he break the rules. Tick. He deserved this. Tick. He disappointed Delilah. Tick. Through the ticking, a painfully loud buzz went off, he held his head in his claws and growled. Tick. He charged for the origin of the sound. Tick. A machine, half full. Tick. His claw came down on it. Ichor and glass shattered all around. Tick. The sound of each fracture of glass splintering off of the machine and the ichor splattering to the ground was enough to make him to hold his head again and roar in agony. The sound slowed like it was distorting into slow-motion and drew out his torture much longer, the ticking increased in speed. Tick. Tick. Tick. He began to fear his own glass would shatter when…

The ticking stopped. He clutched his chest as he breathed heavily. In… and out… It wasn’t real. He wasn’t a massive snake beast. He never broke any rules. He was okay. The volume of the room around him was normal. Everything was going to be okay.

Part fourteen: Dystychiphobia

Summary: He dreams of his mistakes and the people they hurt.

When it was created, it didn’t know what it was, what its purpose was. It just… existed. Then, it was given a purpose. He was his parents star, the perfect, pristine, model of hope for the whole production. The show. He was the star of the show. The star of Gardenview. And he couldn’t make mistakes. He didn’t make mistakes. And then he did.

He made the biggest mistake of his life.

They didn’t think anything bad would happen. They didn’t know anything bad could happen. And then the center shut down.

And then Devan left.

After him went the other handlers.

After them went Arthur.

Then even Delilah abandoned them.

They didn’t really know what had followed the closure of the newly-infamous facility. They only knew what they could see. What they could feel.

Tisha was the first infected. He didn’t want that machine to break. He didn’t want the Ichor to taint her. Poppy and Boxten were next. Then Teagan was smashed in by Tisha, a foolish accident, as he had thought of it at the time. Rodger was in shambles after one of his closest partners was broken. He started to look for a cure, Brightney and Vee joined him.

Connie finally discovered Gigi’s want to hurt herself, far, far too late. Then Gigi died by her own hand. Looey soon succumbed to similar causes. After that, it was discovered that no Toon needed a wound nor infected Ichor to Twist. Shelly wanted to be something they remembered so bad that she became a monster. Cosmo broke a machine, he was infected. Vee was the second to cave in the pressure. Vee caught Brightney.

Sprout was one of the deaths that truly hurt to witness, along with Shelly’s, Teagan’s, and Looey’s. They missed Cosmo so badly that they willingly traveled to the floor with him on it. He clutched his friendship bracelet and allowed Cosmo to kill him, they held eachother as Twisteds for a long while.

It was a blur of gore and grief after that. He couldn’t remember the precise order. Looey mauling Yatta, Blot giving up and joining them, Flutter and Connie’s fallout that eventually led to both their demises, Scraps returning to hug her brother one last time, Razzle dooming both the twins to a death by Shelly, Toodles’s head cracking against the floor under Sprout’s claw, Yatta shattering Finn, Astro having his wings torn off, Glisten getting his face broken in. He didn’t know the precise order of these events.

But how did he know of their occurrence? The thing is, he doesn’t. It’s dreaming. A dream that would cycle over and over and over and over and over. Was any of it real? When would he wake up? When would Astro come in the room to sooth his sobs and pat his back? When would it be over? It would never be over. He had to watch his friends die over and over and over again. He was forever coated in the sticky, drying life force of his closest friends. His family. He single-handedly (clawedly?) caused the death of every Toon he cared about. And really, that meant all of them.

He loved all of them. They were his family. And he killed them all. Over and over and over he watched Tisha turn the machine the wrong way and the Ichor spray in her face. Over and over he watched Boxten’s machine break and send the black sludge into his open head where he had been playing music for his friends. Over and over he watched Teagan excitedly run up to Tisha and get killed. He watched her shakily put the fragments of her own skull into her purse. Over and over he watched Boxten squeeze Poppy so tight that she popped. Over and over he watched Gigi break a machine and use the glass to end her own life. Over and over he watched Flutter and Connie fight. Over and over he watched Connie look in the mirror and change. Over and over he watched Shelly sob into her dress for hours on end. Over and over he watched her scream as her body was torn apart and reshapen. Over and over he watched Vee reenact a gameshow with no audience and no contestants. Over and over he watched Razzle’s face get bitten in half. Over and over he watched Yatta get disemboweled by one of her closest friends. Over and over he watched Looey break a hole in a machine and drink the Ichor out of it. Over and over he watched Blot hug Looey as he clawed at his back. Over and over he watched Finn saving Shrimpo only to get left behind. Over and over he watched Shrimpo get thrown by Shelly before getting stabbed by Razzle and Dazzle (Obviously, he knew to be quiet but a certain other Toon was sick of him slowing them down.) Over and over he watched his very own pup whine and howl after he wandered too far down searching for him. Over and over he watched what used to be Pebble hold Astro down and tear him to shreds. Over and over he watched Brightney get dragged away. Over and over he watched Goob and Scraps be the end of one another. Over and over he watched Rodger sob in the elevator after Sprout killed her. Over and over he watched Sprout writhe in Cosmo’s claws as he changed from the single slash he got as a Toon. Over and over he watched. Over and over. Constant. Every. Single. Second. He was shown another terrible scene of the Toons, the people he cared for dearly, getting torn apart.

All because of him.

All because of that one mistake.

Chapter Text

As we may have learned so far, Detective/scientist Rodger Magnis maintains a very uniform, neat handwriting. However, from one page turn to the next, it abruptly changes. His handwriting is now un-level and slightly sloppier than before. An odd revelation considering the rest of his notes. This page of the rehabilitation documents begins with the date, a brief explanation, and of course, the detective’s (not-so-professional) signature.

Day 211, survivors: seven

As it may or may not interest anyone in the future reading this, the injury on my right arm has rendered my hand practically unusable after the past few days of writing. I am now writing with my left hand. My hope hypothesis is that this will sort itself out within the next couple of days. As for now, I will manage with this hand. Another note, the wound from stepping on glass has not only closed, but also healed. I am walking normally now. However, my fever is still high. I believe if I give myself time, it will decrease in intensity. Unfortunately, I do not have time to rest.

Progress report on individual subjects:

Subject 01, Tisha Turquois, has been spending her time cleaning the currently vacant Toon Rooms. She began with some of the messiest ones, taking it upon herself to make sure everything was perfectly clean when those Toons returned. So far, she has only finished three rooms, Gigi’s taking the longest because of how long it took to return any stolen objects. She has also tidied Yatta and the Craftic siblings’ rooms. Subject 01 is now working on Shrimpo’s. She has even requested for the others’ help in patching the holes in his walls (which there is quite a few of); I consider this fact quite perplexing, why punch the walls when you have punching bags? It would seem I won’t know until we revive the crustacean. Even then, I doubt he will tell me. 01’s progress is wonderful, although she needs to take frequent breaks to avoid feeling fatigued, she’s cleaning just as she used to. One last thing to note, 01 has been anxious, irritable, and impatient recently. I believe she is getting tired of waiting for Subject 08 (Connie Boolynski) to recover enough for Subject 07 (Brightney Lumen) to be comfortable leaving her alone. End of report.

Subject 02, Boxten Comb, is still quiet, though he has helped out in the kitchen more and more and started dressing in his normal clothes rather than his pajamas. However, 02 has been gloomy or perhaps feeling depressed. He seems distracted and will brush me off if I ask if anything is wrong. A good thing is that I do not believe he has been having many nightmares recently as he hasn’t come to me with any complaints of the sort. End of report.

Subject 03, 04, and 05, Teagan Sweet, Chomper, and Squeaky, are doing fine. Other than occasionally bumping into counters or corners due to her new loss of depth perception but it seems subject 04 and 05 are helping 03 with this by guiding her away from these obstacles. Her habits remain similar, hosting tea parties, nagging me about my mental and physical health, helping with the dishes, and supporting anytoon if they need it. End of report.

Subject 06, Cosmo Sprink, has improved greatly in health. His gooey-melted areas have healed and scared over with new cake-like tissue. They lost their eye permanently, however, they are okay with this as they are quite happy to be alive in general. He has been making most meals with Boxten 02 and bakes occasionally, the treats help cheer me up on bad days, 08 loves to steal any goods for herself whenever they can. Their larger, claw-like arm, once healed, has proven to be much stronger than his other arm. While he’s still getting acquainted with different arm lengths, he doesn’t seem any sort of upset about it. He is in good spirits and has been getting small smiles out of 02. One rather queer habit I’ve observed is 06 gnawing on things. Namely Boxten. He’s been chewing on Boxten. Yet, Boxten doesn’t appear to be stopping this behavior, even though it startles him. End of report.

Subject 07, Brightney Lumen, is formidable, fully healed, and very alert. She has been tracking 08’s progress in a journal of her own, re-reading her favorite books, and going through my journals to catch up on what she has missed. She remains effectively untouched by her experience as a Twisted, the first to exhibit this. The only change remains the slight warmth her body and lightbulb give off, which according to subject 01 and 08, makes her a good “cuddle buddy.” End of report.

Subject 08, Connie Boolynski, has impressed me with recent progress. While initially almost entirely indiscriminate to most external factors, she is slowly returning to her sassy, cheerful prankster outlook. She started dressing herself again and styling her recently cut hair. 07 has been looking out for her and feels downright ecstatic about how witting 08 has been for the past few days. The tear-scars and scarring on her neck do not look like they will fade away but 08 is not too disturbed about it, even going so far as to call them “sick.” While she still exhibits often vacant moments, their improvement is on-target for where we want them to be. End of report.

With Connie in good spirits (no pun intended), I will ask if Brightney is ready to go down to floor 8 and assist us in saving Shelly. End of entry for day 211, see expedition journal for follow up.

~~~

After getting dressed, Rodger moved to open the door to his bedroom and winced, remembering that it would hurt to do so. He opened the door with his left arm instead, an awkward gesture, sure, but he had to manage with what he had. He strolled out into the kitchen, there was Boxten, Cosmo, Connie, and Brightney. Brightney had on a shirt that said, “I put down my book to be here.” with a graphic of a book under the text and shorts. She sat at one of the tables. Connie floated above her, leaned back with her arms crossed. She wore a low-cut white shirt with long, flared sleeves. Boxten sat on her other side, eating a bowl of cereal. He had on a pale-blue and white striped shirt (horizontal stripes, not the vertical ones like on his sleepwear) with a dark purple jacket over it. Meanwhile, Cosmo flipped a pancake over in the kitchen. He had on cupcake slippers and a very oversized sweater. It was probably Sprout’s. Rodger, himself, shifted the bust of his suit jacket and cut-short necktie as he cleared his ‘throat’. “Goodmorning!” he announced.

“Mmrnnng,” Boxten mumbled.

“Good day, Magnis!” Brightney beamed, Connie gave a wave.

Cosmo’s tail started to wag, “Hi, Rodger! Should I pour some pancakes for you?” he asked.

Rodger almost accepted the offer, then he stopped himself. He had no need to waste supplies! Plus, with such a big day today, food would just slow him down! (The very back of his mind scolded him that such a claim had no basis in any real facts, he pushed it down.) “No, but thank you for the offer.” He started up the coffee pot that Teagan had made him move back out from his room so he didn’t “overdose on caffeine.”

They shrugged, “Your loss! These pancakes are going to be amazing, ESPECIALLY because Boxten made the batter before I even woke up! Thank you again for that! Makes my job so much easier when I only have to focus on not burning the pancakes-”

“Cos-” Boxten tried to interject.

“I mean making pancakes isn’t really that hard, but I still appreciate the gesture!”

“Cosmo… um…”

“Sprout makes the BEST pancakes! I mean, I would say I’m the better baker in general but he can make pancakes like NO OTHER!”

Rodger caught Boxten’s wide-eyed expression and spoke up for him, “Cosmo, that pancake is burning.”

“Oh! Silly me!” Cosmo flipped it out of the pan, Connie laughed at him.

~~~

Rodger was halfway done with his coffee when Teagan and Tisha joined them. Rodger felt his face get warm when he thought about the situation he was in. He had brought all these Toons back, they were all together now. They were sitting in the kitchen, flipping pancakes, sipping coffee, making jokes. They were happy together. None of them were alone anymore. Yet, there was an emptiness inside him. Their work was far from done. “Ahem?” He gathered the attention of the others. “I was thinking, I believe we are ready to prepare another rescue. It seems Lu and Connie are in sound and stable shape and mind, and that is precisely what we were waiting for. Or, more specifically, Tisha has been rather impatiently waiting for. Lumen? Tisha? Thoughts?”

As soon as Rodger had uttered the word “rescue” Tisha’s expression had brightened to pure joy. “You really mean it?! We can go save Shelly?!?”

Rodger hummed, “Well, it depends on what Brightney has to say, we specifically initiated that we would need her for this task.” He looked expectantly at the lamp, she appeared to be weighing the pros and cons in her mind.

She nodded thoughtfully. “I believe we can make arrangements for this, Connie? Will you be okay?”

Connie blinked as she was mentioned and her smirk dropped, “Oh, uh, yeah, I guess!” they affirmed.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” They scoffed, “It’s not like I’ll be alone, unless you plan on bringing everyone except me.” Connie chuckled.

Brightney smiled, “Alright. Let’s get ready, shall we?” Tisha squealed and jumped out of her seat; launching back to her room to prepare herself.

~~~

“Let’s discuss strategy,” Rodger held his notes on Shelly in his bad arm and put his other hand on his hip. “Shelly is probably one of the most dangerous Twisteds, being a main character, of course. She has caused three deaths so far, being Razzle, Dazzle, and Shrimpo and we do not want a repeat. As we all know, Shrimpo was a slow Toon and we can safely assume that he is a slow Twisted as well. R & D are tied to the ground with a cinderblock so they cannot chase you, but if you step too loudly near them or run, scarf-like tendrils can stab you if you don’t get out of the way fast enough. If we stay away from them, we should be fine. Directing Shrimpo away and losing him if he sees us shouldn’t be difficult. However, Shelly is one of the fastest observed Twisteds. Her lower half has changed to that of a dinosaur’s, in a way? I wouldn’t be able to name which one, obviously, but it’s an interesting phenomenon nonetheless. She is incredibly fast, yet she is uncoordinated and easily distracted. If one of us is getting chased, we should cut corners, run unpredictably, or find something to divert her attention. As for the actual plan, I have readied a bow for each of us with an extra vial on the wrist. We have six chances to get this right and to cure her. I theorize we’ll need two for this to work, considering her sheer size.”

Brightney hummed, “Interesting, and if two vials is too much? What then? Could there perhaps be an opposite reaction or negative side effects?”

Rodger shook his head, “No, I’ve had plenty of the stuff and I’m doing acceptably.”

“Really? I thought you hadn't been Twisted?” Brightney pondered.

“I haven’t! But once contaminated, you have to take proper precautions to ensure that you do not become Twisted. Once after rescuing Cosmo, once after rescuing you. I’ve stayed alive because I’ve had to cure myself.”

“Very interesting! So, I believe I have a concept for a strategy.”

“Let’s hear it!” Tisha chimed in.

“So, if Shelly is fast, It’ll be difficult to get a good shot in, right?”

Rodger interjected, “AND I’d like to try and get a shot on her lower and upper halves.”

“Right. I’m thinking that the both of you try to get your shots in before she starts a chase, but if she becomes aggressive, run, I will step in and flicker my bulb to grab her attention. After that, I can back-peddle and dart her on her torso, while one of you shoots her from behind and gets her legs or… tail? Does she have a tail?”

“Yeah! It’s really cool” Tisha commented.

Rodger nodded, “Sounds like a plan, you’re sure you’ll be fast enough?” He turned serious.

“Positive.”

~~~

Boxten stopped playing the piano when a knock sounded on his door, “Boxten?” Teagan called.

“Come in!” He spoke just loud enough to be heard.

Teagan tentatively opened the door, “Hello, dear, have you seen Connie?” She placed a soft kiss on the lid of his box and sat down on the piano bench beside him. One of the heads on her feather boa curled around his arm, the other squeaked in complaint and Teagan smoothed down its feathers to calm it.

“I haven’t, sorry. Why do you ask?” Boxten shuffled his sheet music to keep busy.

“Well, I checked in with Cosmo as well and they also lost track of her. I was wondering because she was supposed to be around here and not… well…”

“You… uh think she went with them?”

They sighed, “Yes. I do believe that is so. Connie would follow Brightney to the ends of the earth if she could, I’m just worried if she gets injured, it could start all her progress over again. While I’ve never fancied her, I do not wish her status upon anyone.” Boxten did not reply. Teagan’s gaze fell on him and softened. They spoke quietly, as if trying not to scare a small animal, “Do you have any duet pieces? I may be rusty but I play, too.”

Boxten’s eyes widened, he nodded, “Yeah, I- I do.”

“Well? Go pick one out! If you want to, of course,” she added cautiously. Boxten smiled.

~~~

“Crossbow’s ready?”

“Ready,” Brightney and Tisha replied. The elevator door opened. Rodger looked back and forth in the dully lit rainbow room, large black tracks in the shape of claws traced back and forth across each board of the wooden floors. Rodger signaled behind him with an ‘all clear’ signal. Tisha and Rodger walked side by side, hyper-alert of their surroundings. Brightney trailed behind. Every drawing and poster was torn and trampled on the ground, all but any posters with Shelly on them. As they walked through a long hallway, everyone was on edge. Keeping their eyes out for both Shelly and Shrimpo was a frightening task, they could come from anywhere. From nearby, they heard a low growl. Rodger perked up and signaled to Tisha to hide behind a stack of boxes. She complied. Rodger turned to see if Brightney was well-hidden. She was nowhere in sight, a small sigh of relief escaped him.

Tisha inhaled a sharp breath when Shelly came around the corner. Shelly was twice her original size, towering over 6 feet tall. She had cracks all over her shell-like head, leaking streams of Ichor, the hole in her shell drip, drip, dripped when her top half swayed back and forth. Her arms dangled limply in front of her and her head hung low. Her torso was mostly untouched but her form was frail, a shadow of what she once looked like. Below her torn dress, they could see exactly where she had been split in half. Her ribs were deathly sharp and larger than they had once been. Where her spine met her lower half, her legs looked like they had been rebuilt completely. Flesh crawled up her base and below it were utterly huge digitigrade legs, longer than her original height as a Toon. Her paws had formed massive claws that guided her forward. Her expression was vacant, stuck in a mindless snarl with black tears flowing down her cheeks. Her tail was a creature of its own, lashing back and forth every few steps, it was large and reptilian with spikes protruding from the skin every few inches (presumably parts of her spine). She had to be in unimaginable pain.

Rodger’s hands shook, it was time, “Do you want to take the first shot?” He turned to look at Tisha.

Her face was wet with silent tears, “N- HICCUP -o.” Rodger flinched. Tisha’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth. Shelly’s tail flicked once before she whirled around and let out a grumble. Keep your breath steady, don’t panic, she might not find you. Rodger told himself.

Shelly shambled closer, if they didn’t want to get trapped here, they had to get out of there as soon as possible. Rodger breathed a shaky breath. “Now, run.” He commanded and sprang up from his crouched position. Tisha followed. Shelly roared. Rodger ran on the edge of his toes, sprinting as fast as he could. Tisha was right up next to him. She swept the ground, in some sort of hope that it would make them faster, and somehow, it worked. Rodger felt the hot breath of Shelly’s snarl leave his neck as he slid around the edge of a wall. When he started to feel himself slip, he tried to grab onto the corner. His wounded arm only grazed the wall. And he fell.

Rodger fell in what felt like slow motion. He skidded around the corner too fast and his legs slipped from under him. He fell on his behind. In his peripheral vision, he could see Tisha still running, unaware that Rodger had tripped. He tried to push himself off the ground, only to lose his balance and fall again. Shelly came closer. She’s right on top of me. Brightney has my back. It’ll be fine. Shelly came closer. Rodger scooted against the ichor stained floor, only able to shuffle back with one of his arms and his legs. Brightney and Tisha will draw her attention now. I’ll be okay. Rodger told himself. He found himself bringing up his arms to protect himself. “SH-SHELLY WAIT-!!” He exclaimed, to no avail. Shelly brought down one of her massive claws on his stomach, knocking the air out of him as he was pushed onto the ground with surprising force. Rodger’s head whipped back and hit the hardwood floor. It’s okay. Tisha will call out, Brightney will flash her bulb. Shelly will get off me. It’s okay. I’m going to be okay. Okay. Don’t panic, Rodger. He thought as he sat up slightly and turned away. He squeezed his eye shut and blocked his face with his arms. The Twisted swung down, down to Rodger. A warm exhale brushed against his glass.

Then, her teeth came down.

Rodger felt the most blinding, horrific pain he had ever felt in his entire life as the world sped up around him. It had all happened so fast. Just as quick as he was knocked down, the weight released from his abdomen, Shelly was off. He couldn’t see a thing through the burning, overwhelming agony. It was agony. All of his senses were out of commission. His world was overcome by one feeling. Pain. He pried his eye open to be met with blurred vision. And blood. His Ichor spattered everything in his sights. He was going to go into shock- he could die- he was going to-

And then the world went black.

Chapter Text

Shrimpo waited for something to happen. Anything to happen. He would wake up from the nightmare in his sleep to his nightmare of a life (death?). He would walk around trying to think of something to occupy himself with. Yet, anything he could do would remind him of Dazzle, and getting reminded of Dazzle made him sad. Shrimpo hated being sad. Shrimpo was never SUPPOSED to be sad. Shrimpo was supposed to be angry. And Dazzle… Dazzle made him… not angry. He made it so Shrimpo wasn’t angry, wasn’t sad, wasn’t upset. Dazzle made him forget his purpose. Dazzle made him re-think the way in which he had lived his life for the past many, many years. Dazzle changed Shrimpo. Shrimpo wasn’t himself anymore. Or… was he? Who was he? He hardly hated anymore! Dazzle filled his day with meaningless tasks while they rotted together. And he didn’t hate that. He liked it. He liked doing meaningless things with Dazzle. He liked putting on silly plays. He liked making up stories. He liked watching the show. He liked finding pieces of candy. He liked sleeping near him. He liked reading and writing. He liked Dazzle.

Who would’ve thought! Shrimpo and Dazzle. Shrimpo would bully Dazzle any chance he got just a couple months ago. He would make fun of him for the way he looked, the way he talked, the way he dressed, the way he did anything, really. Shrimpo would ridicule him for existing. And then Shrimpo saw him crying. And then they started to speak to one another. And then Dazzle put a light in the Twisted’s day. Dazzle acted like he forgot the years and years of bullying. Shrimpo forgot that he was supposed to be a bully in the first place.

Why had Dazzle been able to do that? How did Shrimpo become… What was he? Kind? What had he done that made him see the error in his past ways? The miserable way he lived his life before? Sure, bullying and hating made him happy, but that was because he had no other option! Maybe it wasn’t just Dazzle. It all started with Finn. Finn dying because of his behavior. Finn dying was his fault and his fault alone. Finn did make him happy. He was too stupid to realize it. Shrimpo was a fool. His own stupidity caused his best friend’s death.

Dazzle made it so Shrimpo no longer gained any satisfaction when he thought about people and Toons he had belittled in the past. He felt guilt, remorse. Horrifying, terrifying new emotions for the shrimp. He was scared of himself. He was afraid of what others thought about him. He was afraid of hurting any Toon that came down to his floor. What was wrong with him?

He was Shrimpo! He was the best! Why didn’t he feel like that anymore? Why wasn’t he Shrimpo anymore? Who was he? His name was Shrimpo but he wasn’t like the Shrimpo on the tapes. He wasn’t like the Shrimpo when Gardenview opened. He wasn’t like the Shrimpo when Gardenview closed. He wasn’t like the Shrimpo on the posters. In the drawings. In anyone’s memory. He was different.

He would try to find something to do. Something that didn’t remind him of Dazzle or Finn. But everything reminded him of Dazzle and Finn. And he had already done everything over and over and over. So he would walk to his hallway with the mural on the wall. The one painted with his own blood. He would sit down. He would fall asleep. He would have the nightmare. He would wake up into another nightmare. His own life (death?). He had no idea how long it had been. Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Decades? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t care. He would wait for something to happen.

For anything to happen.

He would wait.

And wait.

And…

Wait.

Hours.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

Years.

Decades.

Centuries.

Millenia.

Forever.

He waited.

And he had no idea how long he waited for until a thought dawned on him. He was waiting for Dazzle to come back. He was waiting for someone to save him. Him… Shrimpo. Shrimpo was a pathetic creature. He had no worth, no friends, no purpose. Maybe it was best this way. Suffering in this hell. Waiting.

Chapter Text

Tisha’s heartbeat pounded in their ears(?) as they ran but Rodger was absent from the edge of their vision. They spun around to see Rodger on the ground, Shelly was charging at him. Their heart dropped. Rodger had to get up. He had to. Tisha observed when he certainly… tried! He stumbled and Shelly was almost on top of him. They tried to call out to her. She would stop. Shelly would never do anything to anyone like this. Shelly was no brainless monster. Shelly wouldn’t hurt Rodger. Shelly wouldn’t hurt any of them. It was hopeless. That wasn’t Shelly.

He made an attempt to reason with it. The Twisted stomped down on Rodger as he tried to get away. He made a huff as the air left him. There was a loud crack as his head hit the ground. He had a fracture in his glass. The Twisted swung down. It sank its sharp serrated teeth into Rodger’s arm.

What Tisha could recall next was like a wet tear sound. A tear, a rip, a snap.

Rodger cried out in pain.

Tisha aimed.

Tisha shot.

The Twisted snarled and focused on Tisha. What was done was done. Tisha froze, breathless, eyes wide. It gave an ear-splitting roar. Tisha couldn’t breathe. The Twisted was seconds from reaching her and tearing her to pieces when Brightney launched out from someone, “HEY! OVER HERE!” She yelled, blinking her lamp on and off. Shelly swerved, last second, leaving Tisha standing there holding her shaking arms infront of her. Shelly roared from off to the side. They were likely across the floor by then. Tisha finally moved, she rushed for Rodger’s limp body on the ground.

Oh no. Ohhhh no. Rodger’s what? Rodger’s body? Rodger’s limp body? She fell to her knees and put one arm around his back, the other tilting his head up by the handle. Rodger was passed out. Her eyes blurred with tears, no, no she couldn’t cry now. She could fix this, she could fix him. Okay. Yes. Fix it. He was still breathing, albeit labored. There was Ichor quite literally splattered everywhere, still spewing, even. That was a big problem. She swiftly pulled the tie from off his neck. She breathed deeply and re-tied it as tightly as possible above- above- she didn’t want to think about it. Below his shoulder, she tied it below his shoulder. That would help… maybe… probably. Could she…? No. It was… okay think quick, Tisha, he can’t die. She cured him with her other vial. Maybe- maybe she could-! The cure could put Teagan’s pieces back in place, right? The cure could do this too! The sputter of Ichor slowed, Tisha reached for the lower half of his arm. Her hands were shaking harder than they had her entire life. She poured one of Rodger’s vials on each part and tried to angle it correctly to connect. She whimpered softly. This would work, right? This could work? Surely, Rodger could get out of here untouched. He was going to be fine. They were all going to be fine.

Or it wouldn’t. Her reason spoke. Rodger’s going to turn Twisted. He’s going to- She blinked. She accepted it. The reality of the situation hit her. Rodger’s arm was ripped off by Shelly.

The mangled half was not going to reattach. He was going to 1) Twist because she runs out of cure before he stops dying. Or 2) Live and blame Tisha or Shelly on the loss of his arm.

She had a disembodied half of an arm in her hand. Rodger’s arm was ripped off. Rodger’s arm was ripped. off.

Tisha threw it, it hit the wall with a splat. She used the second vial on the remaining part of his arm. She closed her eyes and prayed as she squeezed Rodger tight. What was she praying to? She didn’t know. She just prayed.

~~~

Brightney remained calm and collected. Rodger was downed, Shelly was going for Tisha. Brightney grabbed her attention and ran. She was the backup, she wasn’t as fast as Tisha but she could run for much longer than they could. They weren’t slow by any means, though. Not only that, she had distance in her favor. Twisted Shelly was far enough away that Brightney could safely run for a long while without feeling the breath on her neck. She ran while she pondered the exact calculations about her accuracy percentage.

She looped around an object in the center of the room and got behind a confused Shelly, she shot her in the back of the leg. What Brightney did not prepare for was Shelly spinning around and heading for her. She yelped and righted her glasses before turning tail and running away. She turned a corner and halted when she spotted the other three Twisteds only a couple feet away. Shrimpo, Razzle and Dazzle sat in the middle of the radius Rodger had described. Shelly growled and tried to to turn the same corner but whined abruptly and slammed onto the ground as her legs gave out. Brightney heaved a sigh of relief.

Shelly began to shake aggressively and whimper as she writhed on the ground. Brightney determined that her behavior was still too unpredictable and approach would be too risky. Keeping a watchful eye on the other Twisteds, she sat a couple feet away from Shelly and waited for something to change.

Shelly propped herself up (use of her previously limp arms, this was a good sign) and vomited multiple times in quick succession. Brightney took a risk to scoot closer and rub her back in support. Shelly whimpered and fell back to the floor, seemingly with no fight left in her. Brightney helped guide her into her lap. She looked back to where the other Twisteds were last, they still hadn’t moved or noticed any of this. Say, did she see the glow of a TV near them?

She didn’t have any time to think about it as Tisha came into the room. They carried Rodger’s legs and slumped him around her like a harness. Both of them dripped with Ichor as she moved. They wordlessly sat down next to Brightney. “Are you okay? Is that your blood or Rodger’s?” she asked.

“Rodger’s. Shelly… Shelly ripped his arm off.” Tisha shifted him in their arms and squeezed him closer. Brightney’s eyes widened.

“Oh- oh dear. You cured him right? He won’t Twist?” Brightney studied Rodger's state while absentmindedly tracing her fingers around the spiral on Shelly’s head. Rodger’s jacket was removed, his tie was around his stump of an arm and it was rapidly closing up. Rodger himself had fainted, which made sense.

“Three times,” Tisha replied. “I wanted to re-attach his arm but it wouldn’t work.” Brightney hummed her response.

After a pause she spoke, “I cured Shelly. She also passed out.”

“... Yeah.” Shelly showed no signs of reverting to her original size, nothing had changed about her appearance so far.

“I do believe we are in a predicament. Shelly is too big for me to carry and it would hurt her to walk. We also have to carry Rodger because I seriously doubt he’ll stir any time soon. What do we do?” Brightney hadn’t been prepared for this situation, it seems she was rusty in planning for every possible circumstance. Her brows furrowed in frustration at herself. She truly had no idea how they were going to be able to leave without leaving someone behind.

“I’ll go get help!” Both Tisha and Brightney jumped out of their skin when Connie materialized before them.

“How- HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE??” Tisha exclaimed. Shelly grumbled, Brightney gave her a signature "librarian" look, telling her to shut up. “Sorry,” they added in a whisper.
“Long enough to zone out when the blood, blood, guts everywhere part happened.” Connie shrugged, “Y’know, just like I do. But I’m here now, and I’m gonna go get the others so we can move these ladies.”

Brightney gave Connie a hard glare, she spat her words with enough diction it was enough to scare the ghost straight, “You were supposed to stay with them. This is dangerous. Rodger LITERALLY almost died. He’s permanently disabled and you’re taking this lightly?! This is serious. I’m- I’m thankful that you are here because we do need help but you need to take this with the utmost gravity. Understand?”

Connie lost the casual expression, she looked guilty and avoided eye contact. “Y-yeah. Sorry, Brightney. I’ll be quick, stay safe, guys.” She then disappeared and floated through the ceiling. Brightney felt bad about being so stern with Connie but they needed to consider the severity of the situation.

~~~

Connie reached the upper floors only slightly out of breath, she emerged into the kitchen. Teagan was the only Toon there, organizing the tea cabinet after Tisha had done the day before, it seemed as though they were displeased with how she did it. Connie felt terrible for making Brightney mad at her but she had other matters to worry about. “Teagan! Meet by the lobby elevators, I will explain in a sec!” She ordered.

Teagan was startled and almost dropped the box in her hands yet, her boa caught it. Connie had already turned away to go find Cosmo and Boxten. Teagan sighed, “This better not be a prank…”

Connie reversed to face her, “It’s NOT. Rodger almost died and we can’t move both him and Shelly by ourselves,” they proclaimed. Teagan’s expression hardened and she shuffled in the direction of the Elevator. Connie went to find Boxten and Cosmo.

They found them cuddling on the couch while watching one of the old episodes of the show that featured Sprout. “Elevator. Now.” She ordered.

They jolted, “Why? What happened?” Boxten asked.

“I’ll explain on our way down.”

~~~

“Before they cured Shelly, she attacked Rodger. He’s alive but… um… one limb short. Shelly tore off his arm.” She explained. Cosmo gasped, Boxten stood in a scared, wide-eyed silence (that’s what he did most of the time, to be honest), and Teagan breathed solemnly. “Since both Rodger and Shelly are out right now, I came to get help to carry Shelly.

“I’ll carry Rodger.” Teagan stated, less of a volunteer and more of a fact. No one argued with them.

“What does Shelly look like?” Boxten picked at the edges of his sleeves.

“Really really big and really really scary,” Connie crossed her arms. “She… probably won’t hurt us? They shot her twice. But be careful, anyway.”

The elevator door shambled open and the team poured out of the brightly lit room. Connie guided them to where the others were. Tisha held Rodger to her chest, Brightney had Shelly’s head resting on her lap, they were murmuring to each other before looking up when everyone else came into view. Brightney sighed in relief, “Goodness, thank you. Let’s get out of here.”

Teagan kneeled next to Tisha and whispered, “Tisha, I’ll take it from here, darling.”

“What? Oh,” Tisha blinked like she was coming out of a trance. “You’re going to carry Rodger?”

“Mhm,” they simply hummed and pried Rodger off of Tisha, whose hands were still shaking. Tisha stood, although wobbly, and settled next to Shelly. She sniffed once, twice, then a third time trying to fight back more tears. Tisha replaced Shelly on Brightney’s lap and held her head in their hands and cried quietly. Teagan held Rodger bridal-style and waited for the others.

“How should we carry her?” Brightney asked.

“I-I don’t know. Her body is… basically split in half. Those are her bones.” Boxten pointed to Shelly’s curved midsection where her rib cage was out for the whole world to see.

Brightney took it upon herself to inform them, “The process of Twisting can vastly change a Toon’s appearance. Such as Cosmo’s claw or Teagan being a lot taller than she used to be. Not even mentioning Squeaky and Chomper. All of us have been tame cases, easy fixes. Shelly is the first of many with extreme physical altercations. We have to start somewhere, yet we don’t know how well they will reform with the Cure. We must be patient and caring with each and every Twisted.”

Cosmo gave Boxten a look that read as, “every Twisted?” implying SOMETHING about a certain Shrimp. Boxten didn’t have it within himself to be amused.

“We can only hope the Cure can fix her in that way but we won’t be sure until significant time has passed. Thinking about it, we should flip her on her back to transport her, so her legs and arms don’t dangle. How about Tisha and I carry her top half, and you two get her legs and tail?”

Cosmo gave her a thumbs up, “Sounds fine to me!” Boxten nodded neutrally.

“I’ll help, too,” Connie chimed in.

Tisha composed herself and the small group rotated Shelly, they then positioned themselves around her. “Okay, one, two, three, lift!” Brightney counted them off.

~~~

Rodger’s eye opened slowly and at first, only processed the light. He squinted and blinked a few times. His vision was blurred but he ‘smiled’ anyway, “Teagan! Hello, dear!” he exclaimed.

Teagan gave him a melancholy half-smile, “Hello, Rodger. Did you have a good nap?”

Rodger was confused, “What? What happened?” He blinked a few more times to try and clear his head. His right arm hurt a great deal but he was used to it hurting a great deal by then.

Teagan’s smile fell, “You almost died, honey.”

“I WHAT?!” Rodger yelped.

Teagan shushed him, “It’s okay, you were cured, we got Shelly and we’re going up to the Toon Rooms now,”

“Shelly? Where?” He sat up from his previously slack position in her arms, he propped himself up with his good arm on Teagan’s. It made him dizzy but he could spot all five other Toons and Shelly sat on the ground. Shelly was half-sitting up on Tisha and squeezing her arm tightly. Tisha was softly cooing nice things to her, as she seemed to be in pain. “We need to start her treatment right away! We’ll clean her wounds and-”

“Caaaalm down, detective, let us take care of her. And you. We’ll clean both of your wounds and bandage you up. Then Brightney’ll help you take notes on Shelly and we can help figure it out from there. Okay?”

Rodger fell back into Teagan’s arms and scoffed, “Wounds? What, that silly little scratch? I’m fine, Teag-” He tried to cross his arms. His left hand touched his wet sleeve and pulled back. “-gan… Oh. No… that- that can’t be right! No! I- I can still feel my arm! It’s still there! No… Oh… Oh my god. I- Oh I remember what happened now. But- Oh my god.” Rodger’s vision swam as he held out the residual limb.

Teagan pulled him into a hug, ignoring how his blood stained her porcelain, “I’m so sorry, Rodger.”

“I- I don’t- What will I do? Tea- Teagan, what- What do I do? I- I can’t lose my arm! I can’t! I can’t afford to!” He cried, tears started to fill his eye, he attempted to blink them away. This couldn’t be happening. If he lost his arm, it would be impossible to be as precise as before. His left hand would have to become his dominant hand. Because it was his only hand. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to do this. Of course, he didn’t want to lose his arm! What sane person would! This was ridiculous. Maybe the Cure could bring it back, maybe they could fix it. Maybe- No. This is absurd… What will he do? What could he do? Rodger sobbed in despair and buried himself in Teagan’s dress.

~~~

They went to Shrimpo’s room, for some reason, he had the largest shower. His bathroom was freshly tidied, the scent of some cleaner Rodger didn’t know the name of still hung heavy in the air. Each of the Toon’s bathrooms were simple, a shower, a mirror, a sink, and a cupboard. Although there were some outliers, Shrimpo, for example, had a very very large shower. Probably because they didn’t think he deserved his own tank but knew he would be “happiest” with a lot of water. Speaking of tanks, Finn had a full size aquarium tank offshoot of his room. It dipped down below into the aquarium room so people could see Finn’s fish swimming around. Every bathroom had different color walls that matched the bedroom so Shrimpo had red walls in his.

The Toons helped Shelly into the shower. Rodger and Tisha both joined her. Shelly was awake by then yet unspeaking. She only made low rumbling sounds like growls and small chirps. This worried Rodger. While the others went to make dinner, Brightney stayed to jot down notes on both Rodger and Shelly. Mostly Shelly. Shelly purred in the warm water, she spread her arms out and smiled. Rodger cleaned off what was left of his arm and was surprised to see the wound had already closed. “Brightney, jot this down, Subject 00’s wound had closed by the time they had the chance to clean it, it is suspected the cure worked well enough to close it and any other ailment on the subject. The claw marks and the infection they caused are now nothing but a simple scar on the residual limb. All cracks in glass have been filled in leaving an untouched panel.”

“Why do you refer to us as subjects?” Brightney wondered out loud as she wrote, less of an accusation and more of a curiosity. Tisha was wiping down Shelly’s wounds with a soft washcloth, Shelly leaned into the touch and her tail wagged in small motions.

“It allows me to distance myself from the emotional side of studying the effect of the Cure.” Rodger stated.

Brightney’s eyebrows raised, “Really? From what I read, you’re quite the emotional writer, Magnis.”

Rodger blushed, “I am not!”

Brightney chuckled, “Alright! Sure, sure,” she dismissed. Rodger huffed and cleaned himself of Ichor before assisting Tisha in her task.

“Note on Shelly: Subject 09’s ribs and spine started to condense and reform to go back into her body in a way. It seems her two halves are trying to become whole once more. This is a delightful development. She exhibits many wounds from where the skin tore in her transformation, after she is cleaned, we will cover her in bandages. She will likely exhibit heavy scarration from the waist down. On the topic of scars, The Ichor emitted from her eyes as a Twisted have left scar trails like Subject 08’s. It leads me to hypothesize that Ichor eats away at a Toon’s skin tissue when infected. Subject 06 may provide further evidence of this. Her tail seems like it’s going to stay, yet we will not know until the Untwisting fully occurs. Subject 09 has not spoken, but has made animalistic sounds in response to our actions, proving she is conscious. Further notes and updates will be made in the hand of Brightney Lumen. Got all that?” Rodger concluded.

Brightney nodded as she continued to take down notes, a grin plastered on her lampshade. Rodger beckoned for Shelly to lean down, she complied. He traced his fingers along the closing cracks in her shell. “Do these hurt?” Rodger asked.

Shelly looked up at him and blinked, as if considering the question. “... mhm,” she affirmed.

“Sometimes I get cracks in my glass, just like yours. They should close in short time but if you wish, we can put bandaids over the more severe ones.” Shelly gave a slight smile to that. “I believe the wounds are clean, Shelly, are you strong enough to stand to walk on your own? We do not mind supporting you if you need it.”

Shelly breathed deeply and stood up shakily. “I- I got it,” she stated weakly.

Tisha squealed and praised her for everything under the sun, Rodger turned off the shower. They slowly made their way out to the kitchen where the others were waiting, Shelly whimpered slightly with every step, as the fresh wounds still stung and her body was trying to stitch her back together. Teagan gave Rodger and Tisha their pajamas, which they quickly changed into.

They sat Shelly down on one of the tables. Cosmo provided her a whole tray of freshly baked cookies while the others worked on wrapping her in bandages from the stomach down. Rodger struggled to peel open an individual bandaid with one hand. He squinted in frustration. Boxten quietly cleared his throat, “I could help, if you want?” Rodger huffed but handed over the bandaid. Boxten applied one to the crack on the top of Shelly’s head and one over the crack on the right side of her face. The Cure worked quickly, as Shelly’s last set of ribs had retracted into her upper half, she was shrinking centimeters by the minute. It was a fascinating process to observe. (Rodger had Brightney document every moment of it, of course.)

Eventually, Shelly asked, “What… happened? Why do some of you look different? And I- I thought you guys were- were- were dead? What’s going on? Is this… a dream?”

Tisha confidently responded as they held Shelly’s hand, “No, Shells, this isn’t a dream. I’m back, for real. I’m so happy to see you. As for what’s going on, Rodger created a cure. Do you remember him working on that?”

“... yeah, Vee worked on the Cure… that’s why we stopped hanging out! Yeah I remember that.”

Tisha’s face turned disdainful at the correlation of Vee. She continued without commenting about it, “Well, Rodger finally developed it. I’m back, Cosmo’s back, Boxten’s back, Brightney’s back, Teagan’s back, Connie’s back, and now you’re back!”

A thought crossed Shelly’s mind, she contemplated it. “Why?”

Tisha tilted her head, “Why what?”

“Why bring me back?”

She almost laughed, “What does that even mean? ‘Why bring you back,’ that’s the silliest question I’ve ever heard!” Her face changed when she saw Shelly’s serious expression. “Because… we missed you!”

“But they forgot.”

Tisha turned concerned, “Who… forgot?”

Shelly looked away, “They forgot about me. Everyone. I don’t matter.”

“Yes you do. You matter to me, Shelly.”

Shelly’s mouth pursed and she continued to avoid eye contact. Rodger almost spoke up when Tisha grabbed Shelly’s face, “Shelly Fossilian! You listen here. Ever since I was brought back to life I have thought of you. I have worried for you. I have fought to save you. We didn’t forget you, we’d never forget you. Why do you think you were brought back? Just so we could ignore you? No! We all cherish you. I cherish you. Shelly, am I clear?”
Shelly giggled, “Crystal.” Tisha pulled her into a hug. Of course, to do this, she was in Shelly’s lap on top of the table.

Rodger suggested gently, “Let’s get Shelly to her room to rest.”

Tisha pulled away for only a second, yanked Shelly into a kiss, and hopped off the table. Shelly laughed, slightly dazed. “You need help off the counter?” asked Tisha.

“No, no I- I think I’m good!” Shelly grinned. While holding hands, the two of them walked to the elevator to travel to the floor Shelly’s bedroom resided on. Rodger leaned back in the chair he was sat in, it had been a long day. Someone asked Cosmo about lunch, was it really only noon? Rodger felt exhausted, nauseous, and just miserable over all. He looked over to a clock, it was actually closer to 3 PM, a late lunch then. Without thinking, he proposed that Brightney allow him to look over her notes so far. She accepted and handed him the notepad. Surely, this would help him pass the time. He retreated to his room and spent most of his time re-reading the same sentence with a tired eye that refused to cooperate.

~~~

“-And what about Boxten?”

Tisha and Shelly had to curl around each other tightly to fit in her bed, they breathed in sync and spoke softly to one another. “Well, nothing much changed other than the fact that his head doesn’t play music anymore.” They explained.

Shelly frowned, “That’s sad!”

“It’s not like he can’t still play the piano! Or the violin, or the flute, or… what else does he play? I think he has a harp in his closet.”

“I dunno! I only ever heard the music box jingle.”

“Right, right.”

“And Teagan?”

“Oh she’s huge now! Massive! And she only has one eye but honestly it just makes her even cooler. Not even mentioning that her feather boa became ALIVE!”

“Wooaaah! What?”

“Yeah! It has two heads named Chomper and Squeaky. They’re attached to Teagan.”

“Honestly that’s SO AWESOME!”

“If you think about it, you’re half ammonite half DINOSAUR now! That’s super awesome!”

Shelly’s grip tightened on Tisha’s loose clothes, “What if the others think I’m scary? I love dinosaurs and they’re really cool but some Toons might be afraid of me…”

Tisha shrugged, “Think about it! Rodger’s not scared of you, and you ripped his arm off!”

“I did what.”

~~~

Rodger sighed. Dinner had just been served and he still had to eat despite the urge to hurl with every thought of touching his plate. He sat down on his bed and inhaled deeply. He looked down at his arm. His right arm. It was like… he could still feel it. It still hurt like hell. He felt like he could clench and unclench his fist. Cross his arms. Take something out of his pocket. Snap. It was like his body was trying to will the arm back into existence. Brightney said it was so mangled they had to leave it behind and they didn’t have the supplies nor the skill required to reattach it. He was disabled now. He was useless now. No, no. He shouldn’t think like that. The Toons met countless disabled children when the center was still open. They were not useless. They were strong, independent, bright children with big wonderful futures ahead of them. They could do anything they set their minds to, their possibilities were limitless. Rodger was not strong. Rodger… wasn’t independent. And what future did he have? What was he trying to achieve? Bring everyone back? Why? So that they could suffer through horrific bodily changes and a painful recovery? All for Rodger’s own selfish gain? He was a terrible person. A terrible, useless, selfish, horrid-

“I’ll stick with you tonight, Rodger dearest.” Teagan’s voice jerked him out of the spiral he was falling into. He turned to face her as she corked her head. Her face was barren of any makeup or polish but she was still stunning in her nightgown. If you looked closely, where the cracks in her face once were, there were sprawling lines of gold. She shimmered, even though she had gone through so much. Rodger knew he looked utterly desolate compared to the radiant woman before him. He didn’t want to even think about it.”Rodger? Is that alright with you?”

“What?” Rodger only half-processed what they said. Teagan’s brows furrowed and they opened their mouth to speak again. Rodger blinked and answered before she could repeat herself, “Oh! Of course!"

Teagan sat down beside him. “...Are you okay?” she asked, “You have seemed to recover very, very quickly after… losing your arm. Does it still hurt?” They reached to place a tentative hand on his right shoulder.

“FINE. I’m fine!” Rodger snapped as he pulled away. Teagan’s hurt expression gave Rodger immediate clarity. “I- I mean, yes, I’m okay, Teagan. I’m perfectly fine. You don’t need to… to worry.”

Her face hardened, “You keep doing this. You’re not fine. What’s wrong?”

Rodger tried to laugh it off, “Nothing, nothing!”

Teagan poked his chest with an accusatory finger. “This is EXACTLY what I mean! Something happens and you brush it off completely! You pretend as if we all don’t notice! You’ve brushed off the fact that you lost your god-Delilah-damned arm today! You even try to convince yourself that it's fine! You realized there was something you could distract yourself with and you jumped right in! You launched yourself out of my arms as soon as I mentioned Shelly. You try to distract everyone from anything about you! I see that look in your eye! If you bottle it up and ignore everything, then you’re going to make it worse! That’s all you do! Make yourself worse and worse because you can’t even confront that there’s anything wrong with the ‘great detective Magnis!’ You do this every. Single. Time! You act incompetent and ignore any flashing red lights until someone has to swoop in and save you!”

“You’re destroying yourself! And I can’t do anything but watch!”

Rodger sat in a stunned silence, eye wide open in surprise. Teagan closed her eyes and took a sharp breath. “I’m- I’m sorry, Rodger. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.” They reached out to hold Rodger’s remaining hand in their palms. Rodger pulled back instinctively and clenched his fist. She sucked in another breath, “... Right, sorry. I forgot,” Teagan shifted her gaze off to the distance, “I know it’s been… very hard on you. And… I know you have been changed by all of this but in my head I still see you as how you were before because I wasn’t around to watch you change. So coming back and seeing you so… different… hurts. Being thrown into a reality where all my loved ones… and our daughter… are dead is the most jarring thing I’ve been through. And you’re so… different. I don’t know what you’ve seen through all these months but I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. And I’m sorry if I’m being too much by trying to… I don’t know… fix you now. I shouldn’t. I know you’ll never be the same but there’s a part of me that clings to my memories of you. I’m sorry.”

Teagan sighed. “I don’t really know what I’m rambling on about. I care about you a lot, Rodger. And… I’m sorry.”
Rodger was looking down at his fist tightly curled around his flannel sleeping pants. He couldn’t even look her in the eye. Wasn’t he just pathetic? He didn’t deserve this kind of care. He did nothing but disappoint and worry Teagan. And now she was crying. Rodger couldn’t offer any promising words or reassuring touches. He couldn’t do anything. He was stuck. And Teagan still cared anyway. She dabbed her eyes and told Rodger to lie down. So he did. And they slept side by side. Maybe Rodger could get better for them. Not just Teagan. All of them.

Chapter Text

Shrimpo waited. He waited for what? For release? For rescue? He wanted Finn. He wanted Dazzle. Hell, he’d even take Boxten, Astro, or Rodger. Someone. He just wanted to see someone. Though, no one wanted to see Shrimpo, did they? Finn died because of how much of an asshole Shrimpo was. Is. Astro only pitied him enough to pull him along. Rodger didn’t care for him. Glisten was literally his tertiary murderer. Razzle hated him. Yatta hated him. Scraps hated him. Goob was mildly afraid of him. Boxten was afraid of him. Looey was afraid of him. Sprout hated him. Cosmo was afraid of him. Toodles was afraid of him. Tisha hated him.

There was no reason anyone would want to be around Shrimpo. Especially like this.

He wondered if maybe Dazzle missed his company. Or missed him. Shrimpo didn’t know any reason why he would. He probably didn’t miss anything about this place.

But what if he did?

Where was he now? C’mon, use your logic here, Shrimpo. Where would he have gone? Did Rodger finish his cure?

… That was it. Rodger finished the Cure. They found the Cure for Twisteds. They could bring Toons back from the dead. Back from this hell. That’s why Shelly disappeared however long ago. They rescued Shelly, Shrimpo and Dazzle didn’t even notice. And that was Tisha that he saw. They saved Tisha. Rodger was Curing the Twisteds. Razzle and Dazzle were Cured. They were saved. They were alive, probably healthy. Probably thriving with their old friends. Dazzle’s probably back in the book club. Dazzle’s probably putting on plays again. Real plays. With costumes and makeup and sets and actors that could speak. Dazzle was probably putting on their plays.

Wait. Would Dazzle even remember their plays? If he remembered their plays… he would remember everything he and Shrimpo did together. He would remember Shrimpo. He remembered Shrimpo. If he remembered Shrimpo… he would remember that despite being fully Twisted, Shrimpo was still conscious. Still alive. Still alert.

So if he was rescued… He could tell the others about the pain Shrimpo was in. And if he was rescued… He could tell the others to come to Cure Shrimpo. How long had it been since he was cured? Shrimpo didn’t know how long. But it had been… too long. He was waiting for Dazzle to tell the others and for Rodger to come save him. But Rodger hadn’t come to save him. And Shrimpo… Shrimpo hated that.

He hated waiting in this goddamn prison. He hated rotting away while countless other Toons got to resume life. He hated that Shelly had torn a piece of his head tail off and threw him against the wall. He hated that Razzle stabbed through his stomach. He hated that the Ichor had eaten away at his face to the point where he had no mouth. He hated that the Ichor had eaten away at his throat since Dazzle left. He hated that he probably didn’t even have the capability to make sound anymore due to a lack of goddamn vocal cords. He hated that he couldn’t scream about how he hated the world. He hated that Glisten got to simply teleport away after attempting and succeeding a murder. He hated that just because he wanted to help for once, Glisten decided he deserved to be fucking dead. He hated that no one had come to cure him yet. How much worse could his condition even get?

He hated- No. He shouldn’t think that. But what was stopping him? After all, he was SUPPOSED to be a bully. He was the antagonist of the show. He hated that Dazzle probably forgot about him. He hated that Dazzle probably didn’t care about him. He hated that he was left down here in this stupid dump while who knows how many Toons are living happily.

They had the power to save him.

And none of them did.

He hated them.

Did they bring back Finn?

That thought surprised Shrimpo. Did they? Was Finn okay? Would Finn remember… what happened? What if Finn was like him and knew what was going on while he was Twisted? Oh god, he had been Twisted so much longer than Shrimpo. It was all his fault. Finn probably hated him. He probably told them about what Shrimpo said. They all hated him twice as much as before.

No wonder Dazzle didn’t think he deserved to be saved.

He hated Dazzle for that. He hated Dazzle. How awful of him. Hating his only friend again. Honestly, who cared anymore? Who he hated didn’t matter. It never mattered. He was made for this. He would bet it was all he could ever do. He couldn’t change. He hated Dazzle. He was a bully. And who was he kidding? No one likes a bully. No one has ever liked a bully. He was alone. He was rotting. He hated it. He hated it all. He hated Rodger and Glisten and Shelly and Razzle and Dazzle and everyone. He hated all of them. He hated everything. He hated the mural on the wall of that pathetic creature and his friends. He hated that false reality of himself that he had created. He hated all of the Toons. He hated all of the Twisteds. He hated it all so much. He couldn’t even bring himself to destroy it. He just sat there, staring, crying, hating.

He hated his life. He hated himself. He hated everything. He never changed, he couldn’t change. Even if he wanted to. He was a bully. Nothing more. Everyone hated him and he hated everyone. It was his fate. It was his purpose. He could never be anything more than he is now. He was stupid for thinking he could. He was stupid for thinking Dazzle could be his friend, that Finn could be his friend. He was stupid. No one liked him, no one loved him. No one would ever love him.

He hated that he deserved it. But yet he hated the others for dooming him like this. Blaming everything and everyone, Shrimpo continued to wait. Not to be rescued, no, he was waiting for the end. He was waiting for a permanent death he willed to come sooner and sooner. He barely felt anything anymore, the pain was an ever-constant hum all over his body. The ache was a pounding retreat torturing his every movement. The shaking and twitching was worse yet he barely even noticed it. He was going to get worse. And worse. And worse. Until he eventually rotted away to utter nothingness. And he wanted that.

But what if he was conscious even then? What if he was going to feel his corpse deteriorate and become one with this forsaken place?

He was never going to be saved.

He hated it.

Chapter Text

Rodger gently opened Shelly’s door with his notepad tucked under his right arm, Tisha and Shelly were both still asleep, intertwined on Shelly’s bed. They both snored back and forth like a call and response, it was a very adorable sight to behold, if Rodger were to comment. Shelly seemed to be much smaller in comparison to Tisha than yesterday. Yet, she was still quite larger than she was before she Twisted. He set his notepad and pen on Shelly’s night stand and whispered, “Shelly? I have to check in on your condition now.”

Shelly blinked awake and shot up. “Rodger! HI! …ow.”

“Are you okay?” Rodger suspended his hand in the air nervously as he half-reached out to her.

“You’re- you’re asking me?” Shelly checked her side to see Tisha still snoozing peacefully.

Rodger gave her a befuddled look and a shrug, “Yes??”

Shelly blinked, still surprised. “Oh! Okay, yes, I’m okay! If not a little… um… achey?” she tried on a grin, “I think I’ve got a headache. Heh.”

He climbed into her lap, “Yeah, I’m not very shocked about that. Can I set this on you?” He handed Shelly the notepad but kept the pen. “I’m going to check your condition and document the changes.”

“Oh, alright! Oh… you have to have something to hold the notepad with… because…” Shelly trailed off as her gaze drifted to Rodger’s lack of a right arm. She set the notepad against her stomach, facing Rodger. He uncapped his pen and sighed when the cap dropped. Shelly whisked it up for him.

“... You would be correct.” He squinted and looked closely at her eyes, which still had a pink hue to them. Rodger held her cheek in his palm and put pressure on the tear scar, Shelly’s eyes narrowed with a still flinch. “Did that hurt?”

“Mhm, only a little though!” Shelly added the last bit like it surprised her. How odd.

Rodger hummed and began his entry commenting on small observations. He paused with a silly realization. “Um… does me sitting on you hurt?”

“... uh… yes. It does-”

Rodger sprang off of her and the bed, “Goodness! I completely forgot that- that would cause pain! I’m so so sorry-- I’m an imbecile! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to- um, I didn’t want to interrupt your process! Why cause you the trouble, right?” She grinned apologetically.

“No! I should’ve considered your injuries, I’m sorry. I’ll do the rest of your check up not on you, sorry again.”

“Really, it’s okay! It wasn’t so bad!”

Rodger simply sighed and finished his sentence in the journal. He looked back up to Shelly, planning to continue, when he saw that she was staring off at nothing in particular. Her bottom lip trembled. “Shelly, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just really, REALLY sorry-”

“Oh, Shelly, I can do my studies from here! It’s nothing worth getting worked up over!”

“No! It’s not that! I ripped off your fucking arm!” Rodger froze, how was he supposed to respond to that? “With like… my teeth!” Shelly held her outstretched hands infront of her, tears started to fall from her eyes.

Rodger took a deep breath, “Well, yes you did. Answer this for me. Do I blame you for that?”

“Huh?”

“Do I blame you for tearing off my arm?”

“I- I would… I would think so,” her voice was small.

“I don’t. Does Teagan blame Tisha for her death? No. Does Brightney blame Vee for her death? No. And do I blame you for the loss of my arm? No! You were not… you. You were a Twisted, you couldn’t control anything you did. Do you even remember being a Twisted? Talk to me.”

Shelly risked a teary glance back at Rodger, “No, not really. It's all just sadness, um and longing. Anger too. And hurt, it hurt really really bad. Emotionally and physically. But that’s it.”

“See? You don’t remember. You never did anything wrong. Now, I want to look at a few things.” He gestured for her to lean down after setting down his book. He peeled her bandaids off and observed the progress of the cracks. Still splintered, but healing. “Open your mouth.” He ordered. She obliged. He first observed how her teeth appeared, obviously sharp in nature. He pressed his thumb into her canine tooth and pulled away when a pinprick of black blossomed on his skin. “Sharp! Like Boxten’s, yet different. You’ll have to tell me about the dinosaur your teeth most remind you of if you look in the mirror later.”

Shelly smiled, “I have DINOSAUR TEETH?!” She inhaled, “That makes SO much more sense why I was able to- Oh! They have to be from a species that worked best in gnashing and tearing their prey apart-”

“Shelly, Shelly, not now,” he chuckled. “I have more things to test. Try and stand for me.”

“Oh- uh- okay.” Shelly shifted around to where her legs hung over the side. She breathed deep then lowered her large claws onto the ground and put her weight onto them. Her face scrunched up in a silent wince. The bandages were mighty loose, Rodger knew they would have to reapply them.

“I’m going to go get Cosmo, sit down if it pains you too much to stand.” Rodger went and fetched the cake roll, they allowed Boxten to take over breakfast duty. They returned and Shelly was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing circles into Tisha’s hand with her thumb. Tisha, of course, still slept peacefully because she had the skill of sleeping like she was dead.

“You’re back! Morning, Cosmo.”

“That, we are” “Good morning, Shelly!” Rodger and Cosmo replied.

Cosmo assisted in taking off Shelly’s bandages, large black scabs scrawled upon the skin on her legs and new tail as semi-open wounds. Cosmo brought a medkit with them and put some ointment on her legs. Rodger and Cosmo then wrapped her up and down in bandages, covering all that they could. “I think you shrunk a few feet overnight, Shelly!” Cosmo commented.

“Was I really that big?” she shuddered.

“Yuppers.”

“Miraculously, your body fused back together without much outside influence. You still are quite large. How do you… feel about that?” Rodger assumed he should probably check in on Shelly’s mental state, seeing as that was what caused her to Twist in the first place.

Shelly giggled nervously, “I don’t-- I don’t really know? I guess? I feel okay. I feel a hell of a lot better than I did while I was a Twisted… or even… before I was a Twisted.” Shelly sat down again, her tail curled to her side. Tisha grumbled and sat up, she wrapped her arms around Shelly’s waist. Shelly squeaked.

“Wha’s… goin’ on? Why’re the lights on? Why are there other people here?” they groaned and nuzzled their face into Shelly’s back.

“It’s just Rodger and Cosmo, they’re checking in on me, changing my bandages,” Shelly said.

“UUUUGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH! GET THESE BOYS OUT OF HERE!” Tisha shook Shelly back and forth, not with much force or momentum of course, Shelly was very big compared to them. Shelly laughed.

“We aren’t done quite yet, Tish,” asserted Rodger.

“Right, yes, I do have a question, and be honest,” Cosmo’s tone turned very serious, “How frequently did you hurt yourself before Twisting?” All eyes turned to look at Cosmo in surprise. Then to Shelly. Even Tisha appeared alert.

“I- I- um- well- it’s not-”

Cosmo’s head titled to the side, “What, are you trying to tell me that the healing wounds on your thighs were part of the Twisted transformation? And the rest of the injuries were nothing like the precise cuts on your legs, Shelly. I may be a little slow, a little, gullible or naive, but I know what self harm looks like. I was there whenever Sprout caught Gigi in the act, remember?”

“I didn’t- Well- I didn’t do it THAT often!”

“Often enough to still have them after you were Cured,” he scoffed.

Shelly itched under her neck, “It obviously wasn’t that bad! Sprout didn’t even notice! It doesn’t matter! I won't do that again, I’m okay now! I just- well… I thought that if- it- it doesn’t matter!”

“You’re failing to convince me. You don’t have to tell us why, Shelly. I just need to know if I’ll need to treat you.”

“... No.”

“Okay. Promise me, no, promise us you’ll tell someone if you feel like hurting yourself again?”

“Yeah, okay, I promise.” She nodded.

“Okay, good, anything else to check out, Rodger?” Cosmo smiled.

“No, take it easy today, Shelly. It’s your first day back and you’ve been through more than all of us. We’ll bring you food and anything else you need. Rest as much as you need to.” Rodger gave Shelly’s hand a squeeze. They went for breakfast.

~~~

“Now I have you all for myself again!” accompanied with a squeeze around her waist, Tisha pulled Shelly’s lingering gaze away from her door. “Good morning, Shells.”

Shelly couldn’t help but smile. She flipped around to hold Tisha. “Good morning, Tisha. Heh, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to say that. It almost feels surreal to have you here now. And you… care… so much.” Shelly cupped her face.

“I do. I care about you SO MUCH! And I love you, too!” Tisha had on the widest grin. A warm blush fell over Shelly’s face. The two of them snuggled closer. Her love filled gaze only flickered from Tisha’s eyes for a second, just to glance at her lips. She gave an embarrassed giggle, as Tisha clearly saw that. “What is it? Are we gonna kiss, or what?” she teased.

“Oh my GOSH! Tisha!” Shelly squealed. She felt a warm thumb on her cheek, Tisha’s other hand was still pinned around Shelly’s waist. The look they gave each other was nothing short of pure adoration. Their glare spoke a thousand “I missed you”s. It felt like a dream of what she wished reality was, any moment she could wake up into a cold bed devoid of the tissue box. But it wasn’t a dream. All those nights she spent cradling a pillow and murmuring Tisha’s name were far behind her. She was here. She was now. She was her everything. Shelly kissed her.

Was it their first time? No. But did it feel like it? Absolutely. It felt like a million soft candlelights flickering into life at once. Like the warmth of a cup of hot cocoa and a blanket on a chilly day. Like this was the closest they could get to the physical embodiment of love. Like reuniting with someone you love so dearly. The kiss was soft, gentle. Just one press of their lips. It lasted so long that it was thoughtless utter bliss. Just one single kiss held like an embrace. Almost as if they thought that if they were to pull apart, they would lose eachother again. But they wouldn’t. Shelly smiled against Tisha’s kiss.

Tisha pulled away for a moment before she started to pepper little kisses all over Shelly’s face. She giggled at the act. Her tail thumped against the edge of the bed. Then Shelly retaliated and did the same, she kissed every one of Tisha’s freckles, her forehead, and everywhere on her face she could reach with her lips. Then they were kissing, actually kissing. Their hands found each other and they held each other so close that their limbs intertwined and not an inch of space lingered between them.

Tail wagging and giggling like a fool, Shelly pressed her forehead against Tisha’s. She beamed all the same. Shelly whispered, “I know what we should do today!”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Binge watch every dinosaur movie I own.”

“I think that’s a GREAT idea.”

Chapter Text

“-While I have you here, Cosmo, I wanna propose something,” Tisha began. The pair was cleaning the kitchen just after breakfast. It would turn out that even though Shelly hadn’t stayed a monstrous size, she still retained a monstrous appetite. Cosmo and Boxten had to make almost twice the food they did before, however, they didn’t mind. Cosmo was used to baking for the whole of Gardenview with Sprout back before any of this began. Tisha scrubbed down the dishes in her rubber gloves while Cosmo put ingredients away and dried dishes periodically.

“What’s up?” Cosmo closed the fridge.

Tisha smiled mischievously, “You see, I have this theory.” She paused dramatically.

“Uh huuuuh?”

“When Rodger and I cured Teagan, she never attacked us! She wasn’t planning to attack us, either! She wasn’t aggressive at all. I mean, her feather boa was but those two have minds of their own. I have this theory that some Twisteds are still there, deep down inside, despite the infection. Teagan was.” elaborated Tisha.

“Right, that’s… possible?” Cosmo wasn’t so sure.

“Here’s where you come in! I’ve seen Twisted Goob. He doesn’t look mad, nor aggressive. He was in a corner crying to himself when we saw him! He wasn’t even roaming around! He didn’t see us and-”

Cosmo squinted, “Did Rodger say if he’s attacked anyone?”

“...We actually don’t really know! Scraps and Goob died on the same day so we don’t know which one killed the other, or if they attacked each other at all. I’m willing to bet he’s just lonely and sad. If I can get close to him and slip gloves over his claws, he won’t even be a threat! Then we cure him and bring him up! I thought I should bring you with, because you were the one that requested to save Goob next in the first place.”

“...Fair. Alright, I’ll go. When is Rodger planning on heading out? Today or…”

Tisha set another dish on the drying rack, “Rodger isn’t coming.”

“Oh! Really? I mean, it makes sense with his arm and all.”

“That aaaand he doesn’t believe me.”

“Oh. So… he’d never let you do this if he knew.”

“Yep! It’ll be me, you, Connie, and Brightney.” Cosmo paused, unresponding. “I promise I won’t let any of us get hurt. Don’t you think Goob would want you there? I think you’re the closest to him out of everyone here.”

“All right, I’m in.”

~~~

Boxten sat unmoving at his piano. The lines of sheet music blurred. Why couldn’t he be good at anything? He couldn’t play his damn piano right. He couldn’t play his flute right. He couldn’t play his violin right. He couldn’t play his harp right. He couldn’t play his trombone or his xylophone or his guitar right. He would probably mess up while playing a triangle for fuck’s sake. He was supposed to be good at music. And the kids thought he was. But he was never any prodigy. He could list thousands of mistakes he had made over the years. But the mistakes had never gotten to him like this.

He had gotten used to the cycle his life felt like now. Get up. Practice. Help Cosmo bake or cook or anything else they needed help with. Eat. Practice. Sleep. Have a nightmare. Wake up crying. Stay awake until it’s time to get up again. He carried himself quietly, he didn’t want to bother anyone. And no one noticed.

No one noticed when he barely spoke a word. No one noticed how different he was. No one noticed his change in wardrobe. No one noticed the bags under his eyes. No one noticed how his hands shook. No one noticed. He felt sick to his stomach after realizing he had picked at the scabs enough to bleed again. Why did he think about it like he wanted them to notice? He would never want to tell anyone about this. He didn’t want them to know. He never wanted to have to worry anyone about it.

But maybe he did. In some sick, sadistic (or was it masochistic?) way, he wanted someone to catch him black handed. He wanted someone to find him in the act. For them to coo and worry. It was disgusting. Vile. Selfish. He was so selfish. He only did this for attention. He didn’t have any real reason at all to be hurting himself. Actually… Maybe he deserved it. For these twisted actions he deserved it. Maybe he just wanted to feel some sort of pride from somewhere, even if it was himself. Pride for his punishment. And then the disgust would set in while he cleaned up after.

What was wrong with him?

And yet, none of them noticed. Not one of them asked. They probably wouldn’t care anyway.

Maybe he did have a purpose, once. He could tend to others. He could soothe. He had a friendliness that the children enjoyed. He could be even self-assured at times when his topic of expertise had been brought up. Music. He loved to share knowledge, make clever remarks, and encourage kids to try or play instruments or choral activities. He could even cheer up his friends. He could play songs they liked. Him and his melody. Boxten’s melody. Without it, his world looked empty and monochrome. Like he was missing something.

Because he was missing something. He was missing the slow wind up of the gears in his head when his key turned. He was missing the way his box would flip open. He was missing the way the comb ran over the mysterious ever-changing mechanism in his head and a melody would begin. He was missing how he would rock from side to side with the rhythm. He was missing the way he knew how to hum along with the tune. He was missing the smile he put on the other Toons’ faces. He felt… empty.

He didn’t serve any purpose anymore. And no one noticed. No one even bat an eye. They didn’t care if Boxten was a ghost of who he used to be. They didn’t care if Boxten hurt himself.

Who would care? Sprout would. Sprout would definitely care. Though, it didn’t matter now since he was some sort of bloodthirsty beast. Glisten might notice his shift to long sleeved attire and the nightmares but it would likely stop at that. He knew he annoyed Glisten, anyway. Who else? Who else would possibly care about him? A brief thought crossed his mind, so absurd he almost laughed. Shrimpo would probably care. Well, ‘care’ was definitely the wrong word. Shrimpo would notice. How crazy is that? Shrimpo would probably notice a change in Boxten more than any of his friends. Shrimpo would notice how Boxten was quieter than Dazzle these days, how he flinched when others talked to him, or maybe how he never rolled up his sleeves even when washing the dishes.

Shrimpo would notice because he would bully him. He would tell him he’s weird, he’s useless, and that he couldn’t do anything right. He wouldn’t tell him, no, he would scream all of this at him. He screamed EVERYTHING he said. He would point out and discover all of Boxten’s insecurities, like he always did. Everyone would flock to him and reassure that none of it was true. Nothing Shrimpo said actually mattered!

In a way, he missed him. If he was around to yell all of those things about him, he wouldn’t need to hear them echo in his own head. If Shrimpo was around, they would notice. They would care. But Shrimpo, of course, was dead just like the rest of the Twisteds. So he told himself he was useless. He was worthless. No one loved him. No one cared. He didn’t even matter-

“Boxten?”

~~~

“Alright, ladies… and Cosmo! Did everyone bring their supplies?” Tisha asked the small crowd outside the elevator. They all confirmed. “Let’s send it then!” They filed into the elevator and Tisha selected the floor 11 button. With a janky jolt, the elevator began to descend with an overwhelming rumble and the buzz of the lights, like always. Tisha tightened her elbow-length black rubber gloves while she held her brand-new feather duster under her arm. She wore matching rubber rain boots and black leggings. Her expedition tank top was also black. Tisha supposed she would look very sneaky if it wasn’t for her bright blue complexion. She glanced around at the other Toons in the elevator.

Cosmo wore a light-blue sleeveless hoodie, black shorts, and white and blue striped leg warmers Tisha retrieved from Shrimpo’s closet (he stole them from Cosmo in the first place). He looked rocked back and forth on his heels and kept itching at his scars. They were quite clearly nervous. Connie had on a lacy black tank top, much less practical or athletic than Tisha’s. More for looks than anything. Brightney had brown high-waisted pants on and a tight dark-red turtleneck. Both articles conformed to her lamp-shaped body. She was reading the notes she had taken on the operation they were performing tonight out loud to Connie. They nodded along seriously.

If Tisha was honest, she was terrified. She could be wrong, she could be putting all 4 Toons in this elevator in danger. She decided to distract herself by pretending she was just cleaning up another Toon’s room. Goob was a misplaced item that needed to be cleaned up and set back where it belonged. In his case, that meant running around excitingly, shedding all over the place, and hugging others almost 24/7. Goob, like Shelly, had the great potential to boost overall morale with their super-cheeriness. His rescue was going to be easy! Yeah, she just had to tell herself that. The elevator opened onto a dim floor, the carpet was surprisingly clean compared to the other floors with hardwood, save a few clumps of fur here and there.

“Okay guys, stay quiet,” Tisha commanded. They walked (or floated in Connie’s case) in a single file line, trying to stay quiet and alert. Tisha asked, “Cosmo, if you were Goob, where would you be?”

“What kind of question is that??” He whispered. “I have no idea where Goob would be.”

“Fair,” Tisha led them forward. They weaved around the crates and shelves and boxes and cubic desks of the art studio, trying to stay under the most amount of cover as possible. Both Twisteds were long distance and could reach from afar to attack. Tisha realized that if she followed the shed hair to where it was most concentrated, she may find Goob at the end of it. Eventually, she led them to a small room where fur AND stuffing was littered on the floor inside. She held up her hand for the rest of them to stay outside.

In the room, the light was dim. All of the stuffed dolls of the Toons, previously on shelves, were scattered all over. Low and behold, a certain cream-colored Twisted was curled in the corner with his arms wrapped around pupself multiple times. They stared off vacantly. Pup was clearly awake yet didn’t seem to notice Tisha yet. He looked the same as last time she saw him. Goob had tears of Ichor running down his face and piercing red eyes. The exact same half-open snarl painted his expression, his breaths came shallow. “Hey there, Goob,” she spoke softly.

Goob’s empty gaze dragged up to her face, his panting mouth closed. The grasp on their own body loosened. Tisha continued, “I’m here to get you out of this place. And I need to get close to you.” She started to creep towards Goob, staying low and careful. Goob’s elastic-like arms were slowly retracting to a normal length, though they still appeared to be longer than before. His claws lay limp as they sluggishly dragged with the rest of his arms. The way he stared at her was unreadable, blank, terrifying with unpredictability. She was within touching distance to him now, the tension in the air made her heart beat in her ears. Though she was nervous, she feigned a smile.

They sat down beside the Twisted. Tisha popped the vial out of their bow, “This is the Cure. Rodger made it. Are you hurt?” Goob didn’t show any sign that he understood. “I think… you’re hurt. This will heal you. It might pinch, but I can heal you. Lend me your paw.” Tisha held out their hand.

Goob’s eyes shifted ever so slightly. Within a blink of an eye, his arms reached around Tisha and pulled her into a ‘hug.’ She made an, “Eek!” sound. Her arms were pinned to her sides and Goob’s arms wrapped around her multiple times within seconds. The sound he made wasn’t a growl, but a whine. Tisha was right. Goob wasn’t trying to hurt her. Though, the hug was tightening. Uncomfortably so. Tisha could feel the tips of Goob’s claws on her bare shoulders and if he so chose to tighten the hug much further, they would surely dig into her skin. Twisted Goob’s claws were supposed to be neutralized before they got in hugging distance but Tisha didn’t get the chance to do so. “Guys!” She called, panic creeping into her tone. Goob’s arms were like constrictor snakes, winding around her to get a better grasp. Goob’s claws pressed down against her skin.

~~~

Brightney, Cosmo, and Connie all heard Tisha call out for them. Though, none of them could do anything yet. It was likely Tisha was in danger but they risked getting harmed themselves as a certain older sister of their target was prowling near. Twisted Scraps stalked the halls with a wicked grin plastered on her face, claws glinting in the low light with Ichor that didn’t come from any of her own wounds. Her body, dress, and head were all torn, ragged, and collapsing from being wet with Ichor. The cup on her tail had split in two and resembled a mouth in the same way Squeaky and Chomper did. Scraps seemed to be searching for something. Maybe she heard them.

They had to migrate away from the doorway leading to Goob’s den of sorts. If they rushed to help Tisha, she would spot them. Quite the predicament indeed.

“We have to go save her. She could get seriously hurt!” Cosmo whispered with urgency.

Connie retorted, “We can’t! We have no idea what Scraps will do and she SURELY doesn’t look nice.”

The two went back and forth while Brightney was thinking things through. Their chatter wasn’t doing good things in allowing her to focus. Then her bulb brightened, she had an idea! “Connie, you can phase through objects, go help Tisha!” Brightney suggested.

“But she’ll see-”

“Turn invisible!”

“Goddamnit I’m an idiot,” they hissed. Connie vanished in a puff of blue smoke. One of Scraps’ ears flicked, she turned her head to look at the crates and tilted to the side. Her pupils widened to fill her entire sclera. She ran towards them. Brightney grabbed Cosmo’s claw and darted around the corner.

“Woah!” Cosmo exclaimed. Brightney released his hand so they could run easier, even pushing them ahead of her to create distance between Cosmo and Scraps. Suddenly, they heard a snap and Scraps’ tail grazed Brightney’s shoulder. Luckily, it didn’t catch on the fabric. Cosmo hid behind a bookshelf and Brightney followed. She pulled down on her string and her light turned off.

They caught their breath as quietly as possible. They heard Scraps hiss and grumble, having lost track of them. Brightney sighed in relief and hoped Tisha and Connie were alright.

~~~

Connie phased through the wall and Tisha grinned. Though the claws were now slightly drawing some Ichor to the surface, Tisha knew Goob held no ill intent. He was confused, scared. Shaking like a leaf. “You- you gonna help?” Tisha breathed. Connie just stared. Their expression was vacant, like they forgot why they were there. They could be having another episode at maybe the worst time. “Connie!” she shouted.

Connie shook her head, “Oh! Right!” She flipped her thumb to disable the lock on her crossbow and squeezed her fist to shoot the dart into Goob’s side. He yelped and his grasp loosened enough for Tisha to wriggle out of Goob’s grasp. She put a hand on her chest and breathed freely.

“Phew! That was close,” she laughed. Goob whined and trembled, wrapping their long arms around themself again. “Sorry, Goob, you were squeezing me too tight!”

Connie lowered herself so she floated less than a foot above the ground. “Tisha, your shoulders!” they winced.

Tisha tried to angle head to properly assess the damage, “Ehh, it’s not too bad! Don’t even hurt.”

“You think we need to cure you?”

Tisha glanced at Goob, who was sniffling and crying. “Give me your claw, Goober,” they commanded. Goob held out his paw to them. “See how his claws are clean?” They displayed their large hand to Connie. “Means he can’t infect me.”

Goob whined and tilted his head to the side, like a question. Connie responded, “You’re not Twisted anymore, Goob. Tisha, Cosmo, Brightney, and me are gonna get you off this floor. You can come back and be with all of us, it’s pretty cool.”

“Yep! And we should probably get going now. Can you stand?” Tisha concluded.

In response, Goob stood. Tisha grinned, she peeked out the doorway and found the corridor of the art studio empty. Scraps must’ve spotted the other two, they likely had to run off. Tisha decided the best course of action was to go back the way they came. She still held Goob’s hand and was using it to guide him behind her. Connie floated beside him. They reached the elevator and waited for Brightney and Cosmo. Connie cleared their throat, “Um, you noticed that, right?”

Tisha hummed, “Noticed what?”

Connie’s glance darted back and forth, “Goob’s got claw marks on his sides and all over his back?”

“He does?” She felt slow for not realizing that, with a glance at the sobbing plush it was confirmed. His sides dripped ichor just as much as he cried. “He does! How in the world did I not see?! Oh, Goob, don’t worry, we have a medkit in the elevator!”

Goob pouted and looked at her, clearly with more recognition in his eyes. A light flickered around the corner as Brightney and Cosmo came into view. Both leading ladies let out a sigh of relief, as no one was severely hurt. “Let’s get out of here,” Tisha said.

~~~

“... Rodger? What do you need? Am I helping out with dinner?” Boxten tugged his sleeve down to cover where the broken scabs bled. His voice was strained, nervous. Rodger stood at his door. He wished he had a lock on his door.

“No, no, I just wanted to spend time with you! We’re friends!” Rodger reassured. He shut the door behind him. Boxten’s heartbeat sped up. He planned on staying for longer than a quick conversation? What if he bled through his jacket and Rodger saw? He wasn’t looking too closely on how much he was bleeding, so that was certainly a risk. What if he asked him to leave? No, that would be rude… harsh even. Maybe he could say he was busy? That was obviously a lie, what was he thinking? “What are you doing?”

“...Practicing piano.” Boxten’s whisper would be hardly audible if it weren’t for the already prevalent hush over the room.

“Ah, then I hope you don’t mind me interrupting that.” Rodger had chosen to believe that lie for reasons unbeknownst to Boxten, “Mind if I pull up your desk chair? Or we could sit on your bed?” Rodger asked simply.

Boxten’s mouth felt dry, “... Chair.”

And that’s just what Rodger hoisted up in his singular arm. He set the chair next to the piano bench and sat down. “How have you been? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you have been acting… off recently.”

He noticed.

Boxten didn’t know what to say. He was off. He had been off since he realized he didn’t work anymore. Since he realized he lost function. He was entirely and completely off. He was hardly the same person. He was a failure of a Toon. He thought it would be better for everyone if they didn’t have to worry about him. “I’m okay.”

Rodger sucked in a breath. He didn’t believe him. “... alright. Have you been having any nightmares recently?”

Yes. Every night. Everytime he fell asleep. “No.”

“That’s good! How’s the… er… music coming along? Sorry, I’m not very familiar with any terms in your field.”

“It’s fine.” Why did he care anyway?

“You’re nervous. Why is that?” Boxten’s shoulders tensed.

“Are you going to write about this in your notebook?” The question came out more annoyed than he had intended it.

“...Yes. I won’t lie to you.”

Didn’t he want help? Didn’t he want them to be concerned? Didn’t he want them to reassure him? Didn’t he want closeness? Didn’t he want them to care? Didn’t he want to get better? “Get out of my room.”

Rodger didn’t say a word. He put the chair back. He left the room.

Boxten threw his glasses against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

~~~

“Alright, Goober, we’re gonna get you cleaned up in your bathroom, okay?” Tisha asked, Goob nodded in reply, “Brightney, can you go fetch Rodger?”

“Mhm! He… might be mad!” Brightney pointed out.

Connie murmured something like, “I’ll go with you.”

Tisha let her shoulders drop, “Well, I KNOW he might be mad, but I don’t really… care? I mean, we got Goob back with very little consequence, I don’t think he’ll stay mad for long.” She rubbed her thumb into Goob’s claw, trying to sooth him.

“What was- GOOB? EXCUSE ME? WHAT IN THE DICKENS ARE YOU ALL DOING???” Rodger had suddenly materialized with a bowl of cereal and his pajamas on; it was near 11 PM anyway. He must’ve heard the elevator, it was far from quiet so no one was especially surprised.

“Oh! Hey, Rodger! We all know you’re a little out of sorts right now so I just thought to, ya know! Check the next Twisted off our list!” Tisha explained with false innocence.

Rodger scoffed, exasperated, as he searched for the words, “In the middle of the night?! Without telling me?! What if one of you got hurt?! It would be all my fault! You can’t just-- I’m supposed to WATCH you-- I can’t believe-- My goodness!” He slumped into the wall to steady himself.

“I don’t know if you can believe this, Rodger, but we are all adults. We are not Toodles-” Rodger’s stature wilted at the mention of her name. “-and you do not need to look after us! The four of us handled a rescue mission just fine. See? Goob’s here, he’s patched up, and I’m going to wipe his fur down the best I can. You can come with me and read through the notes Brightney took, if you want.”

She chimed in, “I attempted my best replica of your style, I hope it’s satisfactory!”

“So, you coming?”

“...Okay,” Rodger sighed and stood up straight. Goob led them to his room, where he was surprised by the organization of it, but passed by into the bathroom. Tisha pulled a chair in behind him and made him sit. She then wet a washcloth and used it to wipe gently at stained fur. Rodger’s eye traced the lines of neat handwriting on his stolen notepad. He cleared his throat in the silence, “Goob, how, pray tell, did you get those gashes?”

Goob’s claws closed up, he tensely stared at Rodger. Then, his gaze focused on a point far, far in the distance. The cornermost tile in the bathroom. They opened their mouth absently and breathed in. Pup’s expression pursed and soured. He choked the word, “Scr-aps?” like a question.

Rodger lowered his head with intrigue, “Scraps?” he reiterated. Goob stiffened.

“Scraps? Did she do that to me?” his voice quivered.

This puzzled Rodger, his stance loosened, “We… we don’t know. That’s why I was asking you.”

Rodger flinched back when Goob lunged towards his face, “Where is she?! You have her here, right? I- I don’t remember?” he whined with clouded eyes. Tears were once again beginning to pool at the rims of his lopsided eyes, though they were clear of Ichor by now. “You have her here?” pup asked again.

Rodger’s surprise faded, Tisha’s did not. He replied in a question instead of an answer, “Do you want that? For her to be here?”

Goob fell less hostile, though they remained tight in posture. “No…” they whimpered, and mumbled, “need her.”

“You need her? What does that mean?” Rodger pressed. Goob’s tears broke their invisible dam and tumbled down his face.

“She isn’t here?” Pup directed the words to Tisha.

Unlike Rodger, she was going to give the poor Toon an answer, “No, she is not here. We only rescued you.” Goob’s expression resembled something of a swirl of emotion, a vortex of conflict. His breaths came heavier. Pup leaned back. They shook their head in disbelief.

After more silence, only broken by the scribbling of a pen, Goob gave a wet, broken laugh, “Did you- did you know I can’t actually feel my claws? Like, heh, the weight of them is there but, I can’t feel them,” Pup spoke as if it were comical, perhaps hysteric, with a remnant of a sharp smile.

Tisha took a quick, steading breath, “That’s not good at all,” they mumbled.

Rodger asked a hesitant question, “...And your arms?”

“Mhm,” His smile was gone. His face, empty. Vacant

“It appeared you could earlier, what about that?”

“I could, then I couldn’t,” a new frown found its way to crawl across the plush’s demeanor. “I just want a hug… right now. But… I can’t even… I am still Goob? What if I’m not Goob anymore? I can’t hug anyone.” His voice was hoarse.

The quiet lingered, neither Toon knew what to say, nor did they have any answers that could calm him. Tisha began to dry pup off. When they left the bathroom, it was determined futile to try and get any clothes on them without the assistance of pup’s own arms, so they wandered out to the kitchen where a whiff of baked goods tainted the floral scent of the halls.

~~~

Boxten was bewildered when Goob followed Rodger and Tisha into the kitchen. When Cosmo asked him to help them bake cookies in the middle of the night, he didn’t know it was because they had a new arrival. Honestly, he was hoping it was because he knew Boxten couldn’t sleep and wanted to take his mind off things. Goob looked completely disheveled- defeated. He had never seen the Toon without a smile plastered on his fluffy maw so the sight shocked him. Cosmo offered Goob a gentle hug around the shoulders that he had to stand on his tip-toes to give. They whimpered softly, not out of pain, but something deeper.

Cosmo’s eyes glimmered in concern but they started to explain that there were sugar cookies in the oven, all for pup. They didn’t even crack a smirk, just nodded. Boxten’s uplifted mood crumpled in mere seconds. Was it sadness for the poor plush? Concern? Pity, even? Or was it something darker? Jealousy? It repulsed Boxten. How could he be so cruel? Then, someone brushed his side as they sat beside him.

Goob didn’t appear to put any thought into the action, running on autopilot. He was big, taller than before. Though, less stuffed, thinner. Stains creased their fur, muddling their freckles. Pup’s eyes were pink and crystal-clear tears fell like a quiet and steady trickle of a leaking sink. His claws were sharp, knife sharp. Pup’s arms too-long and unmoving. The whole display was disturbing in the same way Connie was. In the same way Rodger was. In the way Boxten was. There was no cheerful hug offer to turn any frown upside down or a greeting of any kind. Goob didn’t even appear to notice Boxten. There was no comfort Boxten could offer him anyway, so what was the use?

If he lost his function, would he too give up?

Like Boxten?

Chapter Text

General facts:

Each toon has their own bathroom, these bathrooms have a shower and a sink. No toilet. They do not produce waste.
Lemme explain that! All the food or drink they consume gets absorbed fully leaving no waste behind. All Toons need to eat and drink, failure to do so for so long will cause them to die/Twist. Toons without mouths, how does this work? I’m glad you asked! Rodger, Blot, and Vee (Vee has a screen, no actual mouth) and their lack of a mouth COULD be a problem, however! In RRP food literally can phase through where their mouths WOULD be. It just disappears. Because magic. Screw you, I'm not a scientist. Also this is fictional. Sooooo deal with it. Also Flutter (and flyte i guess but he’s not in this) has a proboscis.
On the topic of bathrooms, Finn has a very large fish tank in his bathroom like a pool. He is at the end of his floor

Toons have 4 fingers (3 fingers and a thumb) Some toons have hands, some have paws, some have claws

Toons have necks in RRP (gasp, shocking, I know)

This will be in alphabetical order.

Toons with less changes will have less notes

Most toons will be neurodivergent or coded to be such, as I myself am and uhhh screw you

Astro Novalite (pre-twisted to avoid spoilers):

Astro is non-binary and uses They/he pronouns
Astro is a moth based Toon!
Astro has two fluffy antennae on the top of their head
Instead of a blanket, Astro covers themselves with their large wings! These wings start out the same blue as astro but have purple diamond patterns, they are fuzzy! They also sparkle like stars.
Astro is narcoleptic due to issues during creation, Delilah never fixed this, believing it was in character for them.
Astro will shift their wings up and droop their antennae down to cover their face when nervous.
Astro is quite tall, shorter than Dyle, Looey, and Sprout but taller than Razzle and Dazzle and Yatta (without her ears)
They still carry around a blanket… its just under the wings
Four arms, obv
PAWS!
Fuzzy. He’s fuzzy, I don’t make the rules (oh wait no i totally do mwhahahaha)
Has a moth abdomen on his behind like a tail ish
Very sensitive to sensory input, easily overwhelmed by sights, sounds, smells, and textures
If he focuses, he can turn translucent (not transparent. Theres a difference guys I remember 2nd grade ☝️) kinda like how Connie’s invisible model appears in game
While sleeping (yes, he gets sleep, yippee) he can hop into other’s dreams and control them to an extent! Most dreamers won’t be able to change the dream themselves unless they are lucid dreaming. Astro prefers to not be a main feature in these custom made dreams.
He can help troubled sleepers fall asleep faster.
Being around them is naturally calming.
He can use magic that appears in hands made out of sparkles to do things.
Slightly longer hat, its fluffy too
Can purr
Can see in the dark
Knows ASL

Bassie is not included in RRP because she is an event Toon

Blot Inkerton

Think of canon blot. Give him a beret. There you go
they/them, he/him
More like the circus troupe leader after the shutdown, privately at least (It’s hard to manage a group when no one else can understand you except those two people IN the group. Also it’s mostly just him trying to keep the other two in check)
Room is gross
All his clothes are stain resistant in a material specially made for him
Tisha makes him wear rain boots (he wears white ones) even though he hates it (it’s uncomfortable for him)
Talks to himself when others are around (including insulting others) because no one can understand him (Except the circus Toons and Dazzle for some reason)
Wasn’t designed to speak, speaks anyway to stick it to the man (Delilah)
Shorter than Looey and Yatta, literally like a centimeter shorter than Rodger, taller than Tisha and Cosmo
Sassy
Likes to make sculptures of other Toons or Blot Jr.’s in his free time
Lonely, in a way, doesn’t like to admit that
Has a little lizard tail
I didn’t think I would write this much for him ngl, I just kept on making up new crap. Being so totally fr I’m a Blot main I love him so much
Knows ASL
Can also speak French but no one can understand him anyway
Knows basic spanish (Yatta forced him to learn)

Bobette is not included in RRP because she is an event Toon

Boxten Comb

No new info, I don’t think
He/him
For reminders, He wears cracked square glasses
He wears the old, stained blue bandana
He often likes to wear the pajamas shown in his cloudy dreams skin
Has lavender markings on his feet like the white in the aforementioned skin
Cannot produce music anymore
Has very sharp, pointed teeth (all of them)
Has Insomnia
Has frequent nightmares
Has major self esteem issues and very bad anxiety
Exhibits anxiety attacks and shutdowns
Often hurts himself
Taller than Rodger, shorter than Finn and Glisten
Can play the piano, violin, guitar, xylophone, flute, harp, and trombone, a genuine prodigy
Can also sing well, but doesn’t believe that to be true so he doesn’t
Ambidextrous
Knows basic ASL

Brightney Lumen

Brightney is probably the most mentally stable Toon here
she/her
Dresses like a librarian (cardigans, cringy reading based shirts, full length skirts, scarves)
… Or a witch! Depends on how she feels
Has a cord tail with a lightbulb on the end
Body shape is like in game
Wears circle glasses with the average librarian glasses chain
Reads every genre of book
Her room has a full size bookshelf on one entire wall, it covers the whole wall. She has one of those ladders with wheels on it
Plays sudoku
Has a bunch of those grown women de-stress coloring books
Likes crossword puzzles and wordsearches
Likes puzzles in general
If she focuses, she can change the color of her lightbulb
Lightbulb changes intensity with emotions
Has a little chain that turns her light on and off which she pulls on and off while thinking
Thinks Connie is really cool
Bulb is interchangeable.
Lampshades are inanimate until attached to her.
Without a lampshade she is blind.
She might be a bit gloomy without a lightbulb but fine overall.
She can swap out her lampshade for different color ones.
Post-Cure, she is very warm all the time. This is secretly why she has Connie sleep in her room all the time because Connie’s always cold and Brightney’s always warm so together they make the ideal temperature while they cuddle.
Writes sometimes (fiction, argumentative essays, journal entries)
Her tail curls and moves in ways in tune with her emotions (it makes a heart when she’s around her friends, shoots straight out when she is startled)
Very cautious with her tail nonetheless, it IS a lightbulb afterall
Her lightbulbs aren’t actually normal lightbulbs, they are slightly more sturdy and thicker
Ambidextrous
Knows ASL and other languages

Brusha is not included in RRP because I have zero idea of what I would do with her and have no idea where she fits in dynamic wise with the rest of the characters. I will not be adding her. Please do not make suggestions. I don’t find her character very compelling and this is simply a personal choice I’m choosing to make (Don’t kill me please)

Coal is not included in RRP because she is an event Toon

Cocoa is not included in RRP because she is an event Toon

Connie Boolynski

Demi-girl, they/she pronouns
Originally a halloween exclusive Toon but got moved to full time
Has literally nothing in her room
Cold to the touch
Has a short haircut now, looks cool as hell if i do say so myself (i’ll post the art eventually guys I’m gonna do it one of these days)
Does not wear a visor because idk I don’t like drawing it
Can turn completely invisible
Can phase through walls, floors, and other objects
Can turn objects or even other Toons invisible with her.
Can phase objects through walls and floors but not Toons
When she’s anxious, stressed, or upset, she often will accidentally phase through objects. (This is shown when Brightney tries to hold her and her hand goes through, but she can still see her)
There’s definitely something wrong with her but I’m not a psychiatrist yet so I don’t know what it is
Struggles with tone, coming off more snarky than they intend sometimes
Most of the time though, they are just being snarky and sassy and rude (I love you Connie, never change)
Likes to pull pranks and scare the crap out of every Toon ever
We’re lucky that she only helps Gigi steal SOMETIMES and not all the time
Can sit down and lie down
Thinks Brightney is REALLY cool
floats a foot above the ground when she ‘walks’
Shorter than Brightney, floats above most Toons to seem taller
Can see in the dark
Can’t read (severe dyslexia) but she never really explained to Delilah or Arthur so it never got fixed. What does it matter anyway? She was only intended to be an event Toon after all.
Self-esteem issues
Misses the rest of the Halloween Toons but doesn’t mention them almost ever

Cosmo Sprink

he/they pronouns
Cosmo is a dog based Toon!
Has a curled up tail
No dog ears
3 normal sprinkles on his cheek (the one that wasn’t destroyed by Ichor) and tiny sprinkles on his head
Patterns are naturally returning as he heals
Claw arm is longer and bigger than paw arm
Paws for feet and also his un-twisted hand
Right arm is the Twisted one/the claw arm
Sharp canine teeth
Poor depth perception
Very gullible and kind of clueless all the time
Ignores all the death to cope (In HEAVY denial inside)
Better at baking than cooking
Has sprinkles on his joints and shoulders
This isn’t technically his final design but I’ll let you guys know when that happens (It’s in the story just wait)
Tail wags when excited
Scar tissue on half of his face, luckily his mouth is excluded
Empty eye socket
It would be WEIRD if you licked him but if he did he would taste sweet. (chocolate, he’s chocolate)
WILL bite you (Lovingly! If you let him!)
Likes gardening (I wonder why)
A bit uncoordinated with his larger arm
Claw arm is weak at first, as it is healing, but ends up making Cosmo a lot stronger overall
There’s also sprinkles on his tail
He’s chubby because I’m a chubby Cosmo truther
Taller than Dandy, a couple centimeters taller than Tisha, shorter than Rodger
Ambidextrous

Eggson is not included in RRP because he is an event Toon

Dandicus (Dandy) Dancifer (pre-shutdown to avoid spoilers)

In canon, Dandy uses He/They/It pronouns so it also does in RRP!
Dandy’s petals connect at the back of his head in a dark green stem.
He has a stem-like tail that has another multi-color flower on the end, it’s short and wags like a dog’s tail
Dandy is chubby like Tisha and Cosmo
Fuzzy because I say so
Likes to wear oversized shirts and overalls
Love love LOVES gardening!
Likes to watch the show on repeat, it makes him happy
Pebble is his pride and joy, he follows him around and vice versa, they’re best friends
He’s friends with Astro and Pebble, feels pretty neutral about Shelly, likes Sprout, and is extremely intimidated by Vee
He tries its best to be friends with all the Toons (Including the little crustacean we all know and love)
He thinks of Dyle as one of his closest friends and doesn’t know why he wasn’t in the show, he kind of fascinates them. Upon meeting, Dyle was the only Toon Dandy didn’t know anything about.
They like listening while others talk
He can purr
Very sensitive but tries to hide it when someone hurts their feelings
Really likes hugs
Only taller than Toodles, Pebble, and Shrimpo, only slightly taller than Shrimpo though. It’s shorter than everyone else.
Often the emotional anchor for Delilah and Arthur, they talk to him like it's their kid but also their therapist (so they’re terrible parents who vent to their kid about adult issues and then have the kid comfort them. Overall it's just kind of abuse.)
Dandy is the ‘golden child’ of all the Toons, expected to be perfect at all times.
He experiences a lot of inward pressure behind closed doors and is mad at himself when he exhibits any kind of negative emotion towards Delilah or Arthur or anyone really. It thinks it is selfish.
So so many pent up emotions
Pebble is… lowkey his therapy dog
Petals will close up when he’s upset/embarrased
Wears gloves sometimes, they provide a safe sensory comfort for him
Knows ASL

Dyle Timesly (pre-shutdown to avoid spoilers)

He/him
Dyle is Autistic because I said so
His special interest is trains obviously
He believes that if he listens to Delilah and Arthur and is good he’ll be put on the show (LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER) They allow him to think this so he’ll do as he’s told
He’s a rigid thinker, needs directions to the specifics and will do exactly what they say.
Dyle manages the trains and transportation and shipping completely by himself, he does not need directions to do any of that.
Dyle is the tallest of all the Toons, he was made to commune and be treated seriously by human adults so they made him the tallest, most formal looking Toon.
Dyle secretly really admires Rodger and would probably be his friend if he was allowed to be
Dyle is not supposed to be friends with other Toons or the children visiting the gardenview center. He was made for business.
He’s accustomed to being alone, ignored, and neglected
Cannot sit still for the life of him, he is always doing something with his hands, often work related.
Good multitasker in familiar situations
Easily overstimulated by touch (yet still touch starved)
Has a lot of issues due to the way Delilah and Arthur treat him in contrast to the other Toons
Rewatches the show a lot (specifically the Rodger episodes)
One of his lifelong dreams has been to meet a real life pony
Views Dandy as a coworker, an associate. Secretly distains him because of the special treatment he gets. He feels bad about this.
Treated like the “mature oldest child" by Delilah and Arthur, he’s "naturally independent”. He’s neglected.
Longs to have friends and actually DOES but believes he doesn’t.
His design doesn’t change, I think he’s perfect.
Deathly afraid of getting in trouble
Rule follower
Has a phobia of snakes
When he’s startled the clock hands on his face go crooked in a cartoonish manner
My little pony DOES EXIST in the RRP AU. HOWEVER. Dyle was never allowed to watch it and does not know what it is because he CAN’T KNOW about the power of friendship guys. If he knew what that was Delilah would NOT have him wrapped around her finger like that. Dyle has NO friends. Dyle has NO ponies. And Dyle has NO my little pony: friendship is magic.
He would really like KPDH and MLP if he was allowed to watch them or if he knew they existed
Someone tuck this man into bed and give him some hot cocoa
British accent. Why? Because I said so
I feel like he would agree to watch Dinosaur Train with Shelly only because there’s a train in it
Right handed
Knows a lot about most of the Toons and gets them gifts (except Shrimpo), remembers all of their “birthdays” and cares about them deeply, even if he “doesn’t have any friends”
Speaks several languages

Finn Flounder-Wilickers (pre-Twisting to avoid spoilers)

He’s genderfluid. Literally for the pun. He identifies as genderfluid because it’s a pun about being mostly water. His gender identity is a pun. (Is also just actually genderfluid)
Fascinated with all things marine life (It’s their special interest)
He’s autistic.
They have the fins and tail from the Prismatic pal skin but has the colors of her base skin
He loves fishing… he has also never GONE fishing but he knows if he did he would love it! (He doesn’t realize the hook goes through the fish, he thinks it just picks them up all nice-like)
Paws.
Gills!
Barnaby Wilickers is semi-sentient. He’s connected to Finn in a way. They’re kind of like siblings? It’s weird in canon and nobody’s really sure so it’s also weird in RRP because I think its funny
Makes puns in every situation, even SEALrious situations… I’m just no good at coming up with puns tho… if you guys have suggestions of dialogue I can SUBmarine out in ch. 14 and whenever Finn appears again let MINNOW! (Wow, where are all these puns in my brain when I’m actually trying to WRITE Finn?!!?!??!)
She has a ‘glass’ layer on the outside, like an exoskeleton, it’s still not very hard though like actual glass. Has normal Toon ‘skin’ underneath. Cold to the touch
Has a missing tooth
Taller than Boxten, shorter than Glisten (taller than in canon)
Does NOT eat seafood. STRONGLY DISLIKES whenever he sees anyone eating seafood. Except for Shrimpo. He’s in the clear. Finn respects the cannibalistic tendencies of Shrimp.
Wears silly fishing shirts
Owns at least one bowtie (It may or may not be one that sprays water)
Has a massive pool in his bathroom that isn’t ACTUALLY a pool. It’s an AQUARIUM! Finn cares for it and names all the creatures inside. It’s seawater. If Finn goes too long without getting in or caring for his fish it’ll make him really sad.
They like to THINK that he’s the sole curator of his fishtank but it’s self regulating.
The tank is actually massive as it goes all the way down to a marine/aquarium based floor as part of the education center. It technically could curve to avoid Shrimpo’s room below Finn’s but it only does so enough for one of the walls to be the wall of the aquarium. This is how Shrimpo and Finn met
She eats fish food.
Brightney has safe keeping over all his marine books so he doesn’t get them wet
Can see in the dark
Only drinks water
Has to sleep with a comically large cork in his head
Tail wags when happy/excited
Likes to watch octonauts and ocean documentaries
Has a 2DS, plays animal crossing and borrows Shelly’s pokemon games specifically to train all the water types she owns to level 100 after she beats the game

Flutter Lepi (pre-twisting to avoid spoilers)

Last name comes from the scientific name for butterflies
Flutter is non-binary and uses they/she pronouns
She her clothes all are custom made so they don’t have sleeves
Mostly they exclusively wear cute dresses
Has a proboscis and eats mostly liquid (like a butterfly)
Has a diary
Writes joke fanfiction about the other Toons with Gigi and Connie
Being so honest here, I don’t know what else to put, I’m no Flutter enthusiast
Suggestions and headcanons welcome!
Her room is nature themed, the floor is turf and she has a bunch of flowers with grow lights!
Raises butterflies and sneaks outside to release them (Sometimes) (most of the time they just live in her room)
FUZZY!! FLUFFY!! HAS CURLY FUR!
I don’t know how girly pop gets her point across but the Toons just miraculously hear words when she goes “...!”
She can purr
Knows ASL but cannot use it because… no arms

Flyte is not included in RRP because he is an event Toon.

Gigi Garcia (pre-twisting to avoid spoilers)

Gigi is Bigender and uses She/he pronouns
WILD kleptomaniac
Looks exactly like in-game Gigi unless she decides to dress differently
Steals other Toon’s clothes (Shrimpo’s tank tops, Glisten’s pants, Rodger’s suits, Glisten’s tops, Sprout’s sweaters, Glisten’s fun shaped sun glasses, Blot’s gloves, Astro’s hats, etc. etc. etc.)
Helps Flutter write in her diary and write fanfic with Connie and Flutter
Will ‘accidentally’ tell Brightney embarrassing things that Connie has done
The ‘leader’ of his trio. (Flutter, Connie, and Gigi herself) He is the only one who considers himself this because he’s a silly goofball haha
Schemes. A lot.
While gardenview was open the lost and found box for the visitors had to be guarded at all times to ensure that Gigi wouldn’t steal anything
Doesn’t take most things seriously
Stole her own door, made other Toons put it in for her (what a gentleman, I know /sar)

Ginger is not featured in RRP because she is an event Toon

Glisten Vanity (pre-twisting to avoid spoilers)

Tall. Shorter than Razzle and Dazzle and everyone taller than them though
Very fashionable, always has an elaborate outfit with a lot of accessories
Glisten uses He/shimmer pronouns because I want him to? (Shimmer in place of he, shim in place of him, shimmer’s in place of his, shimmerself or shimself in place of himself)
Wears makeup (blush, eyeshadow)
Does makeup for any Toon that asks (Unless they are a specific certain two someones who have anything to do with marine life)
Comforts Boxten when he gets nightmares
Shimmer’s a very light sleeper
He is very insecure and needs constant reassurance or he’ll spiral into a depressive episode
CONSTANT reassurance
Physically affectionate with everyone! (Except you know who)
Happy to help with anything to show how perfect shimmer is
Depends on others but isn’t open about it
Skips meals sometimes, binge eats, vomits up meals on bad days
Has a thin tail made from a pink ribbon, there’s a smaller mirror on the end and the ribbon is tied around it in a bow.
Loves ribbons and bows and looking pretty
His face isn’t actually reflective unless he wills it to be
Easily gets dizzy (Has like the Toon equivalent to POTS, I’ll do more research on POTS once I plan on Glisten getting rescued. He never told Arthur or Delilah about any of his issues because shimmer himself denies they exist due to his obsession with being perfect)
Can teleport through reflective surfaces, it makes him incredibly nauseous and confused. The more shimmer does it, the worse it will get
Naturally clumsy
Values his beauty sleep
CRIMINAL overthinker
Claims to have a 26-step skincare routine… just wipes his face down with a towel
Has a fear of clowns
DEFINITELY has a fear of being ignored/forgotten
Loves to act in Razzle and Dazzle’s plays but is very whiny if he doesn’t get the lead role
Left handed

Goob Craftic (pre-Twisting)

He’s a puppy-like Toon! He has blue and red floppy ears, but no tail
He was made to be stuffed animal like, so if he gets scratched its likely that only stuffing will come out, only deep wounds will spark Ichor
He uses he/theypup for their pronouns
Very attached to his older sister, going without her for over 12 hours is very distressing for him
Exhibits extreme separation anxiety
He has autism and isn’t the best with words or social cues
Struggles with boundaries about hugs and physical touch
Mean comments will really get under his skin, even if he pretends that he doesn’t hear them.
Gives people the benefit of the doubt, extremely trusting and slightly naive
NOT CHILD CODED. IF ANY OF YOU BABY HIM YOU’LL CATCH THESE HANDS, he is an adult with complex feelings and thoughts, he’s simply on the lower functioning side of the autism spectrum
Pup wants to be friends with everyone
They wish they had a tail
Loves to hug… obviously.
Has trouble sitting still
His arms are elastic, don’t ask me how it works he’s a toon they’re all really weird, we’ve been over this.
Sharp teeth like in canon
Is willing to do anything he is instructed to like 80% of the time
Hates when anyone raises their voice at him
Very soft claws and fur
arms are fuzzy, not furry
Actually has a little nose

Looey Balloon (Pre-Twisting)

Also a dog-based Toon!
Looey uses They/he in canon, as confirmed by Qwel, so he does here as well
Looey actually has terrible stage fright he was forced to suppress when Gardenview was open, he’s deathly afraid of making a mistake during a performance and will beat himself up about it
Terrible at interacting with others and social cue awareness
Screams like a balloon getting air let out of it (My friend Demi came up with this, he wanted me to tell y’all that)
Ties his ears into balloon animals when he doesn’t want to listen to someone and goes “lalala i cant hear you” (Idea from my beta reader)
Suicidal
Has anxiety
Very nervous all the time, always fidgeting (bouncing his leg, pacing, twiddling their thumbs, shaking/tapping their foot, tapping his fingers on things)
Bad with directions, instructions, and the like
Spaces out frequently
Is always trying to come up with new sketches for the troupe even if they are never preformed
Has rubber-like ‘skin,’ could potentially be popped but little knicks or pokes (from thumbtacks) don’t do much other than hurt them a little. (like that one part of Big Hero 6 with Baymax or whatever) If they patch them up, they’ll seal themself overtime.
Does not have Ichor flowing through them like blood for some reason, all of it is within his skin layer so he doesn’t really bleed from within a wound but just from the ripped skin
Their head is attached by a string inside their torso
Looey is very dependent on other Toons like Yatta and Blot and Sprout.
Claims they can juggle… cannot juggle
Has been convinced into exactly 1 play by Razzle… never again.
Gets dizzy if he lets out too much air
Knows basic spanish (yatta forced him to learn)

Pebble Dancifer Jr. (Pre-Twisting)

Looks exactly like he does in canon.
He/him (what? We already have THREE [looey, cosmo, goob] woke dogs im not making PEBBLE a woke dog too. Dandy has all the wokeness Pebble needs by just being around him)
Dandy’s emotional support dog, thinks he needs to protect him
Very loyal to Dandy
The mains and some other Toons can understand him for some reason
Extremely sassy, little diva
Has a staring problem, enjoys antagonizing people for funnies
He’s so underrated I think everyone forgets he isn’t some stupid dog and can actually communicate with the other Toons and can understand them.
Incites chaos for fun
Is less of “Dandy’s pet” to the mains and more like their little brother
Looks like canon Pebble, loves getting dressed up

Poppy Poppington (Pre-Twisting)

Poppy uses She/her pronouns
Uhhhhh I don’t have any ideas right now but I swear I’ll come up with stuff for her eventually. Ideas welcome.
Bubbles float off her “bun” and it looks kind of like a braid

Razzle & Dazzle Wright (Pre-Twisting)

Their last name comes from the word Playwright
Razzle uses He/they in canon(though it may just be a typo) and in RRP as well
Dazzle uses He/him
Razzle enjoys tragedies while Dazzle prefers comedies
They write, direct, and perform in plays with the other Toons
Within his sad nature, Dazzle really hates sad endings in media because they make him cry, because of this, Brightney has to read ahead in Book club to avoid a crying mess. If the book they are sharing at the moment has a sad ending, Brightney takes it upon herself to re-write the ending to have a happier conclusion fanfic style
Razzle hates Book club, asks Astro to put him to sleep every meeting
The twins have completely different friend groups
They often bicker over scripts and casting of their plays. Other than that, they get along just fine and have a deep understanding of each other.
Razzle is a big fan of Vee and urges her to act in their plays… It turns out that she’s not very good at acting outside of her gameshow personality
Cats.
You heard me.
They’re cats.
They have paws and the tips of the masks look like ears, no fur or whiskers though. Also no tails (for now)
Can use each part of their body equally but normally they try to focus on their respective sides
They can purr
Dazzle wears circle glasses
Dazzle knows ASL, Razzle can never remember

Detective Rodger Magnis

Do I really need to say anything about this guy??
He wears a bowtie now
And occasionally a monocle
Knows ASL

Scraps Craftic (Pre-Twisting)

The only trans Toon in RRP!! All the other ones were just built like that but Scraps is actually trans! She’s transfem and uses She/her
Customized her appearance herself, eye makeup and lashes and the dress and all
Very crafty in EVERY form!
Has yarn whiskers
Easily riled up, very protective of Goob but this occasionally ends in her underestimating him and babying him
Tail lashes when angry, said tail is made of the same material as Goob’s arms
No fur, appears paper-like but has the normal Toon-skin like other Toons
Can purr, obviously

Shelly Fossilian

She/her pronouns for this goober
Larger than your average Toon (LARGE)
Still has dinosaur legs and claws
Hands are completely normal, though they are more paw-like (they’ve always been like that though)
Still has 2 visible cracks in her shell, one on the top and one on her right cheek
Clear scars from SH and skin tearing on her legs (when she Twisted)
She has a dino tail with spikes along the top, they are less pointy now though
Her body fused back together
Shelly’s pupils are more animalistic and thin unlike the other Toons
Scar tissue where her Ichor tear stains were
Very sharp teeth
She has to eat a LOT
Knows how to sew
Loves all things dinosaur, everything in her room is themed around them and most of her clothes have dinosaur prints.
Has a LOT of movies about dinosaurs, Jurassic Park, Land Before Time, etc.
Knows how to sew
She knows a lot about the other Toons, she cares about them a LOT. She remembers all of their made-up birthdays and is a PHENOMENAL gift giver
Surprisingly crafty, almost as much as Scraps (she has more experience than Shelly)
Really REALLY wants the others to like her, criminal people pleaser
She got very depressed after Tisha died and Vee stopped talking to her, she bedrotted and even went as far as to SH on her legs
Dresses like she’s in Jurassic Park
Somehow often covered in dirt (this drives Tisha crazy) (where the hell is she getting dirt???)
Along with dinosaurs, she also really likes pokemon but had to keep this secret from the public so Gardenview didn’t get sued by Nintendo. She has a gameboy advance and several games.
Eventually, Dyle ordered her a 2DS that arrived on the train for her birthday. She has several pokemon games for that too
And books, she probably has a lot of the books (the information guides) and probably some of the movies too
Can you tell I’m projecting
Autistic
Has a naturally quiet voice yet gets really loud when talking about her interests or masking
Social interactions with some Toons can be exhausting for her, she feels like she’s preforming
Has auditioned for almost all of Razzle and Dazzle’s plays but never really stood out to them so she didn’t get casted
Believes in good in everyone!
Stims a lot but is embarrassed about it
Thinks she is really annoying when she’s being herself
Apologizes a lot
Tail wags when she’s excited, she can also purr (can you tell that giving characters the ability to purr makes me joyous)
Carries her hands close to her chest occasionally (T-Rex hands)
REALLY cherishes presents
Knows ASL

Shrimpo Carapace (Pre-Twisting) (This is what he looked like BEFORE he was Twisted he looks DIFFERENT now) (Also I’m mostly describing pre-Finn death Shrimpo personality)

He/him
He’s the worst Toon here
He’s a terrible person
Appearance wise, Shrimpo has a rounded rectangular head and 4 antennae. Two big ones on the top of his head (not long tho) and two very short ones under his chin, almost like whiskers
Also autistic.
Low empathy, bullies people for fun
VERY observant (just so he can make fun of others)
Also surprisingly intelligent
Finn is his best friend but he denies it.
Quite strong, practices punching bags (This is the only reason the other Toons don’t try to beat his ahh)
Has another small tail where a tail should be, it curves up like his head-tail thing
Has paws for hands and feet because I WANT TO.
Pretends to punch the air (or Finn) as a way of stimming.
Also stims by exclaiming how much he hates things, even if he isn’t being provoked (Example, he would like sit in silence with finn watching him play animal crossing and just go I HATE THIS out of nowhere and Finn would be like okay buddy and then they would go back to sitting in silence [was Shrimpo leaning on Finn during this? maaaybe])
Refused to learn any phrases in ASL other than how to say he hates things (Also knows the gesture for ‘friend’)

Sprout Seedy (Pre-Twisting)

Genderfluid, very fashionable
Protective over ALL his friends and wants to preserve the safely of everyone, even if some Toons aren’t very appreciative of this (cough cough Shrimpo)
Longer leaf hair, ties it up into a short ponytail
Has seed freckles all over his face and body
Occasionally wears half-frame reading glasses (rectangle shaped)
Has a short/small leaf tail, just one leaf, it wags when he’s excited
You guessed it, he can purr (you can FIGHT ME THEY ALL FREAKING PURR)
Tall as hell, the second tallest (tallest being Dyle) if you don’t count Looey’s ears and Astro
The cook of the two chefs, as in he cooks better than he bakes
Has this weird thing that he can sense anytime anyone on his floor is injured, like a sixth sense
Paws
A lot of Toons confide in him for comfort and even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s pretty good at it
Cares for everyone, even if she doesn’t show it directly (example: Vee)
Knows basic ASL

Teagan Sweet

She/they pronouns
Loves jazz and cafe music
Gives good therapy
I’m sure you know enough about her atp
Knows ASL

Tisha Turquois

Uses both She/her and They/them
You’ve seen a lot of her, I doubt there's much I need to say
Taught Shelly how to sew
Left-handed
Cleans impulsively
HATES Vee. Blames her for letting Shelly… y’know

Toodles Lucky-Magnis (Pre-Twisted)

Uses She/her pronouns
Likes to do makeup with Glisten
Has paws for feet like Rodger and paw-like hands
Loves dress-up and playing pretend. Dresses up like a detective to help Rodger
Brings her dog plush everywhere, EVERYWHERE
Has acted in some of Razzle and Dazzle’s plays
Tries her best to be friends with absolutely everyone! (Even Shrimpo)
Scared of the dark
Enjoys pokemon and talks about it with Shelly.
Knows basic ASL

Vee Version 1 (Pre-Twisted)

Uses any pronouns, She/he/they/it/bot
Autistic coded because it “fit her personality” according to Delilah
Low empathy, struggles with social cues, loves sarcasm but his voice is so monotone that no one can tell, doesn’t understand other’s emotions very well, exhibits rigid thinking, gets frustrated easily, etc. etc. etc.
Can speak any language and knows all sign languages
Arms and legs are extendable, waist is segmented
Speaks with a robotic voice
Still afraid of getting replaced, secretly worries about others’ perception of her
The only time they speak with inflection is when they are doing their “gameshow voice”
Tugs on antennas when frustrated.

Yatta Piñata (Pre-Twisted)

Designed for an episode celebrating hispanic heritage month but was added to the cast due to popularity, speaks english and spanish fluently and interchangeably (she likes to cause chaos)
Forces the other Toons to learn spanish
Uses She/they/he/it
Knows MSL
Likes to crawl around in the vents for some godforsaken reason
Takes Toodles into the vents on occasion
Talented acrobat
Not based on any specific animal but has paws and can purr
She has ADHD and stims a LOT
CANNOT keep still and ALWAYS has to be moving, rocking on her paws, shaking her head, flapping her hands, swaying back and forth, looking around, bouncing her legs etc. etc. etc.
Eats mass amounts of candy
Has a lot of vocal stims as well, often affected by the Toons she’s around (example: meowing around Scraps like in canon)

Chapter Text

Goob sat in his bed, their knees near their chest. The other Toons told him to try to fall asleep. He stared intently at the bed across from his own. Scraps’ bed. His sister’s side of the room was cold and empty. The floor was barren, the walls too. All work in progress crafts, tangling yarn, and spilled art supplies that Goob remembered were gone. Tisha wouldn’t have thrown them away, surely not! They were probably just in drawers somewhere. Tisha wouldn’t throw their things away just like that, right? Where were Goob’s beads? Their gaze searched the floor for string or other bracelet-making materials. Nothing. Barren, like the rest of the room. They turned to pup’s nightstand, trying to locate his own bracelets that previously littered the desk. The bedside table was clear. Goob couldn’t even lift his claws to open the drawer. It was pathetic.

The room was a pitiful blank canvas, one that in a frustrated frenzy was painted over completely with white. Like Scraps would do, if she got too upset that her art wasn’t turning out like she wanted. Later, she would always come to regret the decision, as she had to start over. It was devoid of any personality of the Craftic siblings, it hardly looked like their room. It was never this clean. Truly, Goob was devastated at the fact. Every and any trace of his big sister- half finished drawings and paintings and craft yarn all over the room -was gone. Goob didn’t have anything to cling to. Just the empty reminder that she was gone.

Goob wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, and he knew it. How could he, in the shell of what his shared room once was? Pup blinked to a new thought. He was being so selfish. SO, so selfish and unappreciative and rude and all of the nasty things he didn’t want to be. Tisha was trying to do a nice thing for him and here he was complaining about it?! He was so childish for missing his messy room. Why couldn’t they just be thankful for Tisha's kindness? For the effort she put in to tidy up the room?

He didn’t deserve to be saved, clearly. Pup was supposed to be happy and cheerful! Not bitter and miserable. They were being awful and intolerant. They hadn’t earned their rescue in the slightest. Goob wished that pup could just go back down with Scraps, be less of a burden on the others. All he served as of now was a hindrance. He couldn’t hug anyone. He was useless. It was likely he wouldn’t be able to do anything that required his arms for an undetermined period of time. Maybe forever. They were like a baby, they couldn’t do anything for themself and all they did was sit around and cry for their sister. It was childish, pathetic, and useless. Why did they even choose him? To hug Toons and make their days better? Clearly that was a mistake. Goob was nothing but a disappointment.

Goob wanted a hug. Goob wanted Scraps. Goob wanted Scraps really really bad. He needed her, he needed his sister. But even then, he wouldn’t be able to help her if he tried.

~~~

Connie was worried. Which was honestly a strange thing, she often had the least worry out of the Toons in a precarious situation. They were worried for Goob, though. To be fair, everyone else was also worried about Goob. But the way he stared… it made Connie realize that was probably very similar to how she looked. It led her to imagine that she was feeling how Brightney felt. So, she found herself floating by the Craftic siblings’ room. They peered inside to see that Goob was sitting upright on his mattress, wide awake. The room was one of a handful that didn’t have a door, actually only two on this floor did. Without asking, they went inside.

“Heya, how’s it hanging, Goober? Can’t sleep?” She ‘sat’ down on Goob’s bed, he jumped in surprise. Goob’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. They looked as if they had seen a gho- oh wait.

“Connie?” He looked confused and unsure, like his eyes refused to focus.

“Yeah?” To avoid frightening him, she assumed a lax position.

“Huh… you are… different?”

“Oh! You mean my hair? Yup, we chopped it alllllll off. Soulvester would be SO thrilled to know he has the longer hair of the two of us. He would TOTALLY not stop bragging. Even though ‘knights’ are supposed to be humble or whatever. Heh, I have NO idea where he is… or if I’ll ever see him again… OH! I’m getting off topic, aren’t I? Yeah, we had to cut off most of my hair because of Ichor and stuff.”

“Scars… too,” Goob pointed out.

“Well, yeah, Rodger says that sometimes Twisted Ichor can be ‘corrosive,’ whatever that means, and the scars on me ‘n’ Shelly prove that. You have the same marks, ‘cept they’re just stains, not scars.”

He blinked and broke eye contact, “I… do?”

“Yeah, but I think they look pretty cool, so don’t worry about it!” Connie reassured.

Goob suddenly asked, “How in the world do you go so long without Soulvester?”

The question surprised Connie, she clicked her tongue and hesitated with her mouth slightly agape for a moment. “Well, first of all, I don’t really like him!” A pinch of humor made an attempt at creeping into her voice. “When you’re stuck with your nerdy twin down in… uh… when you're stuck with him for a while, you get kinda sick of the little persona he’s pretending to have so when I became a normal Toon rather than a halloween one, it was a relief! I was sick of him, he was sick of me, and we liked our alone time from each other! I didn’t care that he was gone so I guess I never ended up missing him… now… He’s… I don’t know. I’m finally starting to, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t make you sad?”

“No… no it does. It’s been… a really long time. Like, more than just the months between halloweens. It’s been over a year. I don’t know if I will ever see that DORK again, ha-ha…” Connie shivered, they rubbed their arms in an attempt to make some warmth under Brightney’s sweater. Though, that never actually worked.

“You need a hug,” Goob decided.

Connie turned to them. “Maybe… I do,” she agreed, prompting.

“...” Goob breathed shakily. Connie drifted across the bed, closer to Goob.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She touched his shoulder and rubbed her thumb over his still-slightly-damp fur.

Barely more than a whisper, Goob admitted, “I can’t hug you. I can’t hug anyone. My arms don’t work.”

Connie blinked, “Oh, really? Cuz Tisha had to pry herself out of your grasp only a few hours ago. Is that why you’re so upset?”

“My sister is dead. Therefore, I should be, too.” He was confident, like it was fact.

“Hey! Hey, no. No, no, no, don’t think like that. You aren’t in a good headspace yet, I get it, I get it. Just, don’t say that, Goob.” Connie took him by the shoulders. He refused to meet her eyes with the empty stare of his.

“I’m nothing without my hugs, I’m nothing without my sister,” his eyebrows creased. “Why did any of you want me here?”

“Oh, come on! You quit it! Goob, I- you aren’t nothing! You’re… Goob! You exist and… that’s- that’s awesome! You do- like- know that, right?”

“I don’t know,” pup’s bottom lip quivered.

Connie started to show her panic, “Hey- hey, Goob. I-- well-- I don’t really-- Look. See here, Goob, I’m no big sister. Soulvester claims to be the ‘protector’ of the Halloween Toons so he really took the more responsible role despite the fact that we’re twins. I really don’t have any experience with caretaking and stuff. But, my point is that I am a sister. How about this, for tonight… pretend I’m Scraps,” they really had no idea what they were talking about. All that they were really thinking about is how this might be what Gigi was thinking before… They couldn’t fail Goob like that. She couldn’t let him go on thinking like that. Sure, when his mind cleared (like Connie’s did), pup would likely see some more worth within himself but at that moment he felt terrible. Connie didn’t want Goob of all Toons to feel like she did, like Gigi did.

“...What?”

“You heard me, pretend I’m Scraps. What would I, Scraps Craftic, do in this situation?”

~~~

“Shells! Shells wake up!” Tisha leaped onto the bed, kneeling on the little available space. She beamed with pride.

Shelly groaned and rose ever so slightly in her bed. She faced Tisha and rubbed her eyes. Shelly yawned as she spoke, “Hiya Tishaaa… is it morning already?” she whined.

“No, no, still night. But! Guess what I did!”

Shelly squinted, “Uhh… What did you do?”

“I saved Goob and proved my theory right!! Some Twisteds are still in there! And- oh- hehe Rodger was SO shocked-”

“Huh? You think he would’ve like- seen that as a possibility, right?” Color her confused, Shelly hardly processed the words spewing from Tisha.

“You GET IT! Yeah, he was so mad when he found out I took Cos and Brightney and Connie down there with me. I think I stressed him out real bad, even though we were TOTALLY fine! We handled it!”

Shelly put her hand on Tisha’s shoulder and asked, “Wait, you went down there without telling him?”

“Yes! There was a mess to clean, so I cleaned it!”

She blinked slowly, “And you cleaned… what?”

“Goob.”

“Goob?! Goob’s back?! I love Goob! That’s great!” Shelly’s eyes brightened.
“Hold your horse-adjacent dinosaurs there, Shells. He’s probably sleeping right now, you can hug him all you want tomorrow. Well, if he can use his arms by then. For now-”

“What do you mean, he can’t use his arms? Did they get hurt?”

“He just said he couldn’t feel them, I think they’re okay though. I was GOING to say, for now, you can hug me!” Tisha batted her eyelashes.

Shelly smirked, “You’re silly! Get over here!”

~~~

When Boxten, Goob, Connie, and Brightney retreated back to the rooms, Rodger was putting away dishes with Cosmo. Goob didn’t have the appetite to eat any of the cookies, so the rest of them shared a sort of midnight snack. Though, they did save a few for Goob in the morning. Cosmo set the flour back on the shelf and Rodger asked them a question, “Are you worried about Boxten?”

It surprised him, caught him off guard. He would’ve sworn that the thoughtful expression on Rodger’s glass was for Goob. “Um, no? Why would I be? Should I be worried about Boxten?”

Rodger stated simply, “He’s… very different.”

Cosmo nodded, though his expression showed confusion, “I mean, yeah, he’s definitely quieter.” Even he noticed how tune behaved. He spoke quieter, moved quieter, and spoke a lot less overall. He couldn’t play his music anymore so he spent a lot of time in his room practicing his other instruments. Cosmo wouldn’t say he was that different though.

“Not just that. I could be remembering it wrong but he was never… like this. He doesn’t look me in the eye anymore, he’s constantly adjusting his sleeves like he’s worrying about something, he used to make awkward jokes and you know, talk to other people. Sure, he stuttered a bit and had a general anxious demeanor but he still had friends and made conversations and things like that.”

“We were all changed when we Twisted, Rodger. I don’t think we need to be THAT worried about it. In due time, he’ll probably come around,” Cosmo wanted to believe that, he really did, but Rodger had a point.

Rodger leaned on the counter and collected his thoughts, taking evidence and fragments out of his mind to form coherent sentences. Thinking before he spoke, you could say. “I’ve noticed some other things, they might be unrelated but I’m a very observant Toon, always have been. I’ve noticed… that while you two put away all the dishes after dinner, sometimes when I’m getting coffee in the morning, I notice a knife drying on the dish towel.” An odd thing to mention, maybe someone was getting a snack late at night? “Tisha said she had to wash an Ichor stain out of one of Boxten’s jackets.” Maybe he ran into something and scratched himself? “I went into his room earlier today. He yelled at me.”

Cosmo was no stranger to things like these. He just didn’t want to believe that he missed the signs. “So, you think Boxten’s hurting himself?” Cosmo mumbled.

Rodger appeared intrigued, “Is that what you think?”

“I- I don’t know! Probably! Well, shit,” Cosmo gulped, “What do we do about that? Sprout would know what to-” their words dried up.

Rodger breathed deeply. “Cosmo, calm down. We aren’t going to let it get as bad as it did with Gigi… or Shelly I suppose. Brightney’s going to talk to him, and I have an idea.” Cosmo paused to signify that he should go on. “We make him babysit Toodles.”

~~~

“If… you were Scraps?” Goob stared off. “You would… tell me that… you believe I can do anything. And… you would distract me from bad stuff.”

Connie held Goob’s shoulders and with absolute seriousness said, “Hey, Goob. We are going to get through this. We can… work on getting your arms working again. You can do this. You can do anything. But, we’ll take this one step at a time. Okay?”

Goob nodded, “Okay.”

“I’m very cold but if you want, I can stay with you tonight. Y’know, try and fight off any nightmares ‘n’ stuff.” Connie explained. Goob nodded again. “Tomorrow, we can make a plan to get your huggers working!” Connie winked at him.

~~~

“Boxten, you can tell me anything, you know,” Brightney began with caution as they settled into her bed.

Boxten almost seemed to freeze, he fiddled with the glasses in his hand. At that moment, Boxten appeared to be wearing his normal pajamas but with a hoodie over them. “Did Rodger-”

“Yes, he did tell me how you acted earlier. What’s wrong, Boxten?” Boxten stayed silent, avoided her gaze. “We want to help you.”

His response was a mumble, barely audible, “No, you don’t. And you shouldn’t.” The words were slow and purposeful.

Brightney’s head tilted in consideration, “Boxten. What’s wrong? What’s the problem here?”

“The problem is that I don’t deserve this.”

“Deserve what?”

“I don’t contribute anything. I can’t do anything. I’m functionally useless, I don’t even feel anything other than jealousy. I’m a terrible Toon. Stop worrying.”

“I don’t think I can stop worrying. Especially with what you just said, I-”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

Brightney clicked her tongue, her bulb flickered. “We don’t have to… right now. We will talk about this, though. You understand that we have to address that right?” she paused, “The recovery process isn’t just about healing your wounds and un-infecting you. It’s about care and love and we want you to know that you can get better. Twisting changed all of us but that doesn’t mean we can give up. We have to keep trying to get better.”

Brightney would later swear she saw Boxten mouth the words, “I don’t deserve to get better,” but she continued on. “Boxten, are you staying with me tonight? For the nightmares?”

“I don’t think I will.” His response was cold, stern. There was no argument to be had.

~~~

“Babysit Toodles?” Cosmo repeated.

“Yes, babysit Toodles. She’s next on the list to cure and even that’s long overdue. I should’ve cured her as soon as I did Teagan,” Rodger took a steadying breath, heavy with guilt but ready to move on from it. Clearly, his judgement had unclouded. “We will be going down to fetch her as soon as tomorrow afternoon. I want to get some progress in with Goob but we can take on multiple recoveries at a time. Shelly is doing well and I’m sure she could even help with him. So, if we rescue Toodles I kill two birds with one stone. I give Boxten a task AND I give Toodles a task. Boxten is supposed to watch Toodles and make sure she is doing well. TOODLES will LOVE having a big important job to do!” Rodger was getting increasingly more excited as he elaborated on his plan. “Her job will be to watch Boxten and make a case on him! Comparing the similarities and differences to how he used to behave, like her old man!”

Cosmo snorted, “Since when are you older than the rest of us?”

“Well- uh… I’m not. I believe it's a common way to refer to your father? I am her father, you should know this.” Rodger deadpanned.

“Yeah, it was a joke,” Cosmo laughed and gazed at Rodger affectionately, the magnifying glass had a tendency to take things literally, it was kind of endearing.

“Right, anyway, she looks up to me a lot and having a task to do can distract one from emotional or physical distress! It’ll work all the same for Boxten, trust me!” Rodger seemed very excited at his little solution. “Now, to do this, we actually need to rescue Toodles. And Toodles is on floor 14. Here’s where you come in. We need you to join us down on this mission to neutralize floor 14’s biggest threat, Twisted Sprout. I theorize that having you there will…” Rodger’s voice faded out into ringing. He wanted them to “neutralize” Twisted Sprout? What did that even mean? A flash of memory from that dream he had flickered to the front of his mind. The dream where their world burned down… or something like that. Cosmo remembered fire. Cosmo also remembered how horrific Twisted Sprout looked. Maybe he didn’t actually look like that! Maybe he looked kind of like Cosmo did. Yeah, he had to stay optimistic, this was their best friend they were talking about! It would be a breeze! It would be fine! It would-

“-Cosmo? Are you in?” Rodger’s tone refocused.

“I- um… yeah. I’ll do it,” Cosmo didn’t actually hear the plan, but he didn’t want to let Rodger- or Sprout -down. What did he just get himself into?

Chapter Text

HEY GUYS

I happened to notice that like.... none of you have noticed I posted a rrp Christmas special

So I thought I’d announce it so you’d all see. Yeah. Christmas special. Will be updated. One chapter out now. More coming soon.

Go read it.

I’ll delete this later probably idk