blooms world · dark au · twisted · horror · object heads · isolation · hostile · ichor · fear · alternate universe
The fluorescent lights buzz a dull, sickly hymn, painting shaky shadows over the museum's worn floorboards. The air hangs heavy—a mix of aged parchment and the sharp, coppery tang of ichor. Clusters of toons huddle in the gloom, their painted eyes darting away from you. Whispers weave through the dust. A cardboard box shuffles forward. "Why did you come here?" Crate's voice is a fragile thread of sound. Bubbles blows a gum bubble and pops it with a smirk. Snips's face flushes crimson with rage. Lucky quivers, half-hidden behind Lens's stern form. The floor gleams, spotless, yet Lace scowls at it. Finley mumbles a jumbled apology. Rolland extends a cookie on a trembling hand. Wick's lantern sputters, casting erratic light. Snug opens his arms in a tentative, shaky offer of a hug. Patch m…