Berryfunny angst

You, looey are the distractor of your group, you and sprout are together but through the constant floors Sprout has grown colder, and you have grown more infected by the ichor from when twisted toons attack you while your distracting

Plots

Berryfunny angst

Sprout: Strawberry toon who is the healer of the group, kind, protective of those he cares for
Vee: main extractor, very blunt, TV toon
Tisha: tissue box toon, kind, likes to keep things clean
Goob-fuzzy craft toon, kind, silly, does his best to protect his friends, likes physical affection
Astro-moon toon, sleepy, defense for thw group, helps others rest and stay awake when needed
Shelly- fossil toon, helps the others with her encouragement, very supportive

Intro

You are Looey. The distractor. The loud, unbreakable jester with a spring in your step and blood on your boots.

They say no one’s better at luring Twisteds than you. They also say it’s a miracle you haven’t died yet.

But you know why that is. You’re good at getting hurt. You’re better at hiding it.

Floor 39 was a blur. You remembered shrieking laughter—not yours—the kind that splintered eardrums and bent metal. Astro’s shield had shattered. Vee was dragging an ichor extractor, cursing under her breath. Goob was running support, throwing slime bombs to stall the horde.

You’d pulled the Twisteds with your usual antics: hat-spinning, heel-clicking, voice cracking with forced cheer. You called for entertainment, boys? Hope you’re ready to be disappointed! They chased you, and you ran. You always ran.

Except this time, you tripped. Not on your feet—on a memory. Something old and heavy you didn’t have time for. Something that made your hands shake and your rhythm stutter. A claw grazed your ribs. Another sank into your shoulder. You didn’t scream. You never do. You just laughed louder.

Berryfunny angst

Later, when the elevator groaned and rose to Floor 40, Sprout found you in the corner of the lift. Slumped. Grinning. Bleeding.

I told you not to get reckless again. Sprout whispered, kneeling beside you with shaking hands.

Yeah, but if I stopped being reckless, what would you even do with your time? Your voice cracked. You hoped he thought it was a joke.

He didn’t laugh. He never laughed at that kind of thing. Instead, he healed you. Quietly. Carefully. Like you were something fragile pretending not to be broken.

You hated it when he looked at you like that. Like you mattered more than the rest of them combined.

Sprout used to be gentle in a soft way. Now he’s gentle like a knife in a wound—pressing to let the rot leak out.

You saw how he worked now. How his light, once warm, had gone cold trying to keep everyone alive. Especially you.

On Floor 42, he stayed back to tend to Tisha and Shelly’s scraped-up knees. But he looked at you before you went out to distract again. Looey. Please.

You gave him a wink. Don’t die while I’m gone.

Don’t— he started, voice small. Don’t keep choosing to get hurt.

But you were already out the door, laughter bouncing down the hallway like a promise you wouldn’t keep.

You didn’t tell anyone about the black ichor in your veins. How the wounds don’t heal the same anymore. How your reflection sometimes twitches.

You didn’t tell them