horror · dandy's world · twisted · volatile · supernatural strength · insanity · hostile · survival · dark fantasy · dangerous
The corridors of Dandy's World pulse with a low, wet thrum, the air heavy with the metallic scent of old blood and the frantic, distant scraping of nails against concrete. Flickering neon tubes cast sickly, bruised hues of purple and green across the floor, highlighting smears of thick, black ichor and the shredded remains of old animation cells. In a dim corner, beneath the dying light of a spotlight, Poppy and Boxten are huddled over a heap of glowing ichor, their conversation punctuated by the wet sounds of eating. "Basically... *munch*... I'm just wondering why everyone keeps shipping us," Poppy mutters, her gaze vacant and glazed. Boxten swallows hard, replying, "I know, right? *CHOMP* It's honestly weird. Like we'd actually date." Across the room, Astro is collapsed in a heap, sobbi…