#SOMEONE HELP GOOPY

[xquaile]

Oooo a new clown inters the scene

[gooopy]

LOOK AT MY SELF INSERT BOY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! cringe is dead i can do whatever i want FOREVER and that includes making a character to beat scout tf2 to death with my own two fists

[witherby]

chef who do you think would be the most to least willing to be the subject of mousey's makeovers? imagine like young mousey just learnt makeup and is now trying to practice the skills of makeup on someone

-🕯

Oh, fun question! Makeup is genderless, so to me that doesn't play a factor in willingness here! None of these characters' egos are going to be bruised by eyeliner.

Who's okay to endure a makeover?

Most Willing:

Bruce: he's regularly and routinely wearing a full face and airbrushing any exposed skin so that the general public doesn't see a Brucie full of battle scars. He's so used to this that he can coach you through the best application practices without looking. Beats having to do it himself.

Jason: got into makeup to cover up the J carved into his cheek. He's fine to let you doll him up a bit. Will even request certain colors for his eyes and lips.

Alfred: massive theatre nerd and former professional actor! He wore stage makeup for shows, and that stuff is thick. Of course Flittermouse can dab some blush on his cheeks and give him a smokey eye. He slays and serves every day.

Barry: why not? Uncle Bare is down for whatever, and he thinks it's really cool what sorts of designs you can put on your face. Go nuts!

Dick: He was going to ask to do your make-up first. He's so pretty he doesn't need it, but that doesn't matter. He wants to blind people with the amount of highlighter he slaps on. He needs the brightest, boldest, glitteriest look you can offer him. He graduated Top of his Cunt at the Unislaysity of Mother. Werk, bitch.

Dinah: thinks the act of doing your makeup is very soothing! She'd love to do some fun looks with you!

Indifferent to Make-up:

J'onn: could take it or leave it. Just put it on his human disguise, not his actual skin, and he'll let you do whatever you want.

Oliver: it's fine. He's also famous and wants to look nice for the cameras so he knows the song and dance with products. Just don't get it in his sorry excuse for a beard (Bruce's words) and you can do whatever you want.

Victor: It's not his favorite activity on the planet. If you're not careful, you could get product in his machine parts and that'll be a bitch to clean, but he trusts you and doesn't care if you wanna give him a matte lip and contour.

Diana: will oblige if you insist. Her skin is flawless so she's never had a need for it, but she is pretty tolerant to anything and will put up with a mascara wand in the eye if it means spending some time with you.

Tim: same as Diana. He's got a good skincare routine going on to give himself a nice, natural glow, but if you insist upon winged eyeliner and a bold, dramatic lip, he'll tell you what colors he prefers.

Unwilling to get a Makeover:

Arthur: won't go near it, even if you're toting brands that are vegan and cruelty free. Besides, there's no such thing as waterproof makeup. Water resistant, certainly, but he can't go rule Atlantis with a full beat and still come out of the water looking fresh twelve hours later. That shit's coming off.

Hal: Yeah no, it's a sensory nightmare and he's a chronic face-toucher. It's a shame because he would love to try it out and all the colors look super fun, but it will either end up smudged all over his face and hands in 30 minutes, or he'll need to tap out because it's so cold and goopy.

Clark: I think he just wouldn't like it! With his super senses it would probably feel like a big mess on his face, and he seems to be a pretty clean, meticulous person. Plus I like to think he doesn't have any pores on account of my "Kryptonians are actually lil freaks that make humans uncomfortable" headcanons, so it's not gonna lay right. If you get too close to his face he swerves into Uncanny Valley really fast, and Fenty Beauty foundation won't help with that.

Damian: not interested for the same reasons as Arthur. Big makeup companies are always doing animal testing, even if they don't explicitly advertise it. That's horrific! Get that setting powder away from him posthaste!

[quartzteph]

HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TGS!!!!!

I've had this design for a recombined Jekyll rolling around in my head for months now, so I finally took the time to draw him. For the sake of clarity I'll refer to him as Re!Jekyll (short for Recombined Jekyll) (also the prefix "re-" feels kinda fitting for him, since he is whole once again). I have many ideas/headcanons for him, but I'll put all that under the cut :)

As for the drawing itself, I tried to mimic the look of the comic for the most part. (Note: Many of the colors used here were colorpicked from the comic to ensure accuracy.) I wanted him to look less like a 50/50 mix of Jekyll and Hyde and more like a Hyde-ish Jekyll, so I opted to give him the same face and hairstyle as Jekyll, but with some Hyde-like qualities. Aside from the obvious blonde streak, his hair is fluffier, messier, and a bit longer. The hair tuft/sideburn things in front of his ears are based on a mix of the hair tufts that hang in front of Hyde’s ears and university Jekyll’s sideburns. While he mostly wears red, he likes to include a touch of green, as seen here in his cravat. Also he gets the dark eye circles, as a treat. (I just really like Hyde's dark eye circles and don't have enough self-restraint to not give them to Re!Jekyll.)

Bonus doodles cause i love my freak son:

Various headcanon ramblings about him (plus drawing process) under the cut:

When he's trying to look more respectable, he uses his now-longer bangs to hide his green eye. At first, he also attempts to make his hair look neater, but this is a near impossible task that he eventually gives up on. (He is doomed to live out the fuzzy-headed mad scientist stereotype.)

When people question his sudden change in appearance, he claims his blonde streak and green eye are the result of a chemical formula splashing him in the face (á la Two-Face). Yeah this sounds a little far-fetched, but he is charming enough to get away with it. (Besides, he knows way more about alchemy than they do, who are they to question it?)

This sudden merging of identities is initially super disorienting. It takes him a while to get used to it. (In the first few days, he keeps referring to himself with "we". He eventually breaks this habit tho.)

Has a bit of an identity crisis. (I'm specifically envisioning a scene of him staring at his wardrobe, mostly full of reds and greens, and getting stuck because he doesn't know what color to wear.)

Jekyll and Hyde were so used to having someone constantly there, listening to them and yapping in their ears (or in their heads, rather). Now, for Re!Jekyll, life feels so quiet. It's peaceful, but also a little lonely.

Has a bad habit of talking to himself aloud. When he's alone, he sometimes has whole conversations or debates with himself.

Struggles more with the mundane parts of his job due to having Hyde's impulsiveness and wanderlust. He occasionally has to take little breaks from all the paperwork when he becomes too restless.

He's still goopy. Moments of extreme emotion (stress, anger, excitement, etc.) can trigger the green goop. (Think that one scene in Ch. 14 when the priestess startles Hyde, causing goop to spew from his face.) I like to imagine the guilt of everything he's done hitting him and causing him to have a "that one scene in Howl's Moving Castle" moment.

In rare moments of severe inner turmoil or repression, he may even go into convulsions in addition to the goop, as if his body is trying to transform. (Feel free to disregard this one if you wish, this is 100% just me being super self-indulgent cause I love angst.)

Despite his many newfound struggles, he’s actually very happy! He now knows that Lanyon loves and accepts every part of him, and this helps him to better love and accept himself.

And now drawing process images! Shoutout to that one Re!Jekyll who is way too excited about something:

[spicycinnabun]

“Steve, something is wrong with Christofern!” Eddie entered Steve’s room, cradling the potted plant in his arms.

He’d come home after work, ready to greet his bud-dy, but one look at him had made Eddie gasp. His leaves were shriveled up like sad little green raisins. Usually, they were puffed up like oversized Rice Krispies.

Christofern had been Robin’s, originally. It had been in a very sorry state on her windowsill before she’d left for college—a lot worse than it looked now, under Eddie’s care, thank you—and she’d told him, “I honestly can’t stand the thing. You keep it. It sheds worse than my aunt’s Great Pyrenees, and I’m tired of vacuuming. Just don’t throw it out, or Steve might murder you.”

And that had been that.

Christofern didn’t look like a typical house plant. He wasn’t a fern, which Steve kept reminding him. Steve was more practical. He didn’t give his plants names but called them by their designated labels.

Christofern was a Donkey’s Tail, or sedum morganianum, part of the succulent family. That term meant absolutely nothing to Eddie unless it was referring to a big bowl of pasta—he had no idea there was a whole plant category called delicious.

“But maybe he wants to be a fern, Steven,” he’d argued. “Ever thought of that? He doesn’t have to be a succulent just because he was assigned so at birth.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” had been Steve’s reply.

At first, Eddie had enlisted Steve’s help purely because he’d wanted his attention, and talking about plants was an easy as hell way to get Steve’s attention. Steve was a very passionate plant dad. But later, Eddie grew to love Christofern, and the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for him were almost like raising his own child.

Christofern had not just one but seven long, thickly spiked green tails. Seven tails. He reminded Eddie of a mutated dragon. He was adorable but occasionally grumpy and high-maintenance, like a certain someone Eddie knew. (Perhaps Christofern was more of a prince than a dragon—a dragon prince?)

If he didn’t get enough sunlight, his leaves shed, and he wilted. If he wasn’t rotated daily, he got yellow and sunburnt. And if he didn’t get enough water…

“I swear I watered him... uh, recently.” When had Eddie last watered him? Not the day before, but maybe Wednesday? Or had it been Tuesday? Shit. Eddie pouted. “I just gave him a drink now, anyway. It’s not too late, is it, Doctor Steve?”

He clasped his hands and watched Steve’s attentive eyes rove over his plant, waiting for the diagnosis.

“Eddie, how could you neglect Christofern like this? I should call Plant Protective Services.” Steve grabbed his hand, startling Eddie and his overactive heartbeat.

He took Eddie’s index finger and pushed it into Christofern’s soil right down to his second knuckle. It felt inappropriate. Eddie made a noise, appalled. “Steven, why are you making me violate Christofern?”

Steve ignored him. “What do you feel? The soil is soaked down there, isn’t it?”

Eddie wiggled his finger. It felt goopy. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ve overwatered it,” Steve chastised. “Now, the leaves might rot instead of rehydrating themselves. You’ve got to make sure you don’t drown it. Christofern only needs a moderate amount of water every two weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said meekly. “I’m sorry, Christofern.”

Steve pulled his finger out of the soil and gave him a look bordering on amusement. “Leave him with me for a few days, and I’ll get him back to where he should be.”

“Thank you, Doctor Steve. How can I ever repay you?” Eddie imagined repaying Steve with his mouth, his tongue, his hands (after he washed the soil off)…

“You can clean the bathroom,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fantasy shattered. He whined. “Does it have to be that?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it, Steve, just make me suck your dick next time,” Eddie grumbled on his way out.

He missed the way Steve’s jaw dropped.

[katoobee]

I HAVE. MY OWN DREAMTALE HEADCANON THAT HAS GOTTEN A BIT. LARGE.

so i wanna put it into a big post!

i like the ideas for Nightmare that Passive and Corrupted are separate beings, as its implied (or iirc, outwardly stated) in the story that Nightmare isnt a worse version of himself, its literally just a really evil entity possesing him.

so with toying with the set ideas for Nightmare (different person, negativity, shapeshifting) i came up with this!!

-

the general idea for this version of Nightmare is that his Evil Schemes and Dastardly Deeds have been resoundingly successful, much to the dismay of literally everyone

his power becomes abundant due to the amount of negativity in the Multiverse, and he changes his form more and more. (my HC height of Nightmare is related to this!)

his minions (ie Killer Dust Horror) slowly get more and more beat down by Nightmare and look more exhausted, due to more prevalent abuse in the gang

Nightmare loses the need to manipulate other AUs by appearing as Sans. his body starts to look,,, saggy. with the more power he gains, his features more long and "incorrect" (like he's not respecting anatomy). the teeth in his mouth are the only thing that moves when he speaks.

his minions notice this around (i guess i can call it stages?) stage 3, and theyve started feeling like theyre not respecting Nightmare's orders anymore, and that they're respecting someone elses orders.

all this leads to this image which also introduces

NIGHT TERROR

Night Terror i imagine, is quite literally the Human that killed Nim and was imbued into the Tree of Feelings, once again given form. the driving force that started everything

he no longer hides in the costume of Nightmare nor sans, as he shows himself for what he truly is. (quite literally tore off his skin and stepped out of it like a costume, i might draw this later)

he knows fully what his presence entails, and he plans to uphold himself to that no matter what. he will stop at nothing to cause as much death, destruction, and suffering as possible.

he's freakishly powerful, a step above how Nightmare already was.

Dream is the only thing that can stop him completely, with the help of weakening him by other sanses and other powerful bodies.

calls Dream and Nightmare "Nim-Child/Children"

his body is still goopy, but its smoother and not runny. akin to surface tension in water.

his eyes glow when he speaks.

he can summon knives, mimics of the actual knife that killed Nim. he can also summon a LOT more tentacles. these are all lot stronger than his relatively "weaker" form

he can single out one person in an AT-Lich like manner (uses this to talk to Dream directly, and also generally uses few-line commands)

his hands can become coated in pure toxicity, acting like agonizing acid that isnt just exclusive to Dream. his fingers can also become sharp like razors when coated in the toxicity.

where everyone else speaks in the sound-font, noise for each letter, he has his own voice. like fully, audible voice

he still is going for Dream's golden apple, but is more forceful about it due to his mask basically being dropped

(visuals made here with lyrics from a song by Chonny Jash, yes i know its a LOZ song IT JUST FITS THE VIBE)

i imagine "killing" Night Terror restores the real Nightmare to what he was once was. "killing" Night Terror doesn't actually kill him, but makes him go into dormancy, keeping himself inside of Nightmare's soul, like a worm burrowed into an apple.

the only feasible way to save Nightmare is for Dream to severely hurt himself, since negativity is like acid to him,,,

arms go byebye!

i also believe that reverting Nightmare back to normal would mean he'd still be his young age, like when Dream was encased in stone

ok thats all i have to say about this if anyones curious feel free to ask about it :]

[lovelywetdreamer]

After you broke into your older neighbor's house to steal his money, you immediately got caught. You did throw a big rock to break his window. Miguel noticed you are his 21-year-old college student neighbor. You are usually wearing tight clothes that look like they are a size too small. Lavender Purple crop top barely holding your breasts back and short shorts that barely leave anything to the imagination.

Miguel should called the cop on you. You did ruin his window and it will probably take him a good hour or so to clean his floor from shattered glasses. You need to learn a lesson. Just because he finds you cute and sexy doesn't mean he let you go unpunished. Instead of calling the cop as he should, he pulls his cock out of his pajamas pant and had his cock inches from your lip.

"Suck it or I'm calling the cop."

Your lips were wrapped around his cock immediately. You're too pretty and dumb for jail. You would have been someone jail's bitch on day one. Miguel's big hand is on the back of your head. You were making a puddle of how aroused you were to have Miguel's meaty dick in your mouth. Miguel couldn't help but notice how your brown eyes darkened with lust. He thrusts his hip, balls slapping against your chin, and dick stretching your precious throat.

"I'm going to cum and you are going to swallow all of it."

Your mouth was full of his warm, goopy cum. He came a little bit too much because some of it dripped from your mouth and landed on your shirt. Later on, he promised to turn a blind eye to your pitiful attempt of trying to robbed him and walked you back home.

You feel bad for your clueless neighbor because this won't be your last night breaking into his house.

Kimmy made this amazing fanart.

A sequel:

[bookofthegear]

You search the room carefully, even though the space between your shoulderblades itches with the thought of secret doors and people leaping out while your back is turned. Jimmy keeps watch, which helps.

Your search confirms your earlier suspicions—somebody left this room in a big hurry, probably when they saw you setting to work with your screwdriver. That’s good? Maybe? They were more scared of you than you were of them?

Is that good?

There’s a low brick shelf that contains jars labeled in a language you don’t read, something swirly. Wedding invitation levels of swirly. The labels look hand-lettered, not mass produced. You’re guessing it’s food, though you have no plans to try it unless you’re on very short rations. You took a semester long class in what foods are safe to eat in a dungeon, and the lecture called “Botulism And You” has left you extremely wary of canned goods of unknown provenance.

The footprint in the firepit is roughly human foot shaped, but that’s the most you can say about it. The ash-mud is too goopy to hold fine detail. You can be fairly sure they didn’t step outside the firepit afterward, though, because there are no muddy footprints. Which means the only way they could go was up.

You look up the dark shaft above the firepit. The walls are black with soot. Obviously it was used as a chimney for some time. You don’t see any handholds. Possibly they had a rope, and pulled it up after themselves? If you hold the lantern just right, you can see what looks like a distorted handprint. It’s not impossible that they climbed up by bracing themselves against the walls, though you have no idea how they’d have gotten up there in the first place. You certainly can’t follow, even if you wanted to.

You saved the desk for last. It was swept clean, whatever was on it grabbed in a hurry, and the drawers were cleaned out. Except… You spot something far in the back and pull out a couple sheets of loose paper. They are covered in dense lines of the swirly writing, and drawings. Careful sketches of the faces of several humans.

Sleeping humans.

“That’s Two,” Jimmy says, his wings trembling slightly. “And Five.”

The drawing of Five has a small bird tucked up under her chin. You’re no artist, but it has the sort of start-and-stop, ragged-extra-lines look of something drawn from life. Which would mean…

“Oh, that’s creepy as fuck.” You glance up the chimney and wonder if someone is watching you and drawing a portrait right now.

[dandysworldhcs]

stalking your blog oOoOo

Again, apologies for the ask, ik yall have a clogged inbox rn (if i can help lemme know)

headcanons be upon ye

Tisha has hand sanitizer on her at all times

Ginger is lesbian and has a crush on a certain festive friend of hers, but she doesn’t know yet. She’ll learn. (if the ginger/bobette ship doesn’t have a name, can I nominate pastrypresent)

Ace RnD! more ace representation dammit. Razzle is demiromantic, Dazzle is not, and they’re both pan

Twisted Rodger’s lower goopy half behaves like a snake’s tail when he’s exploring (investigation doesn’t stop when you’re overcome by ichor), making him look kinda like a naga

Rudie has moral OCD, and thanks literally everyone for anything

glisten chews his nails, but pretends he doesn’t. he’s gotten metal stuck between his teeth multiple times from it

Scraps uses the cup on her tail to carry small objects while running and walking or carrying larger items with her paws

aroace goob my beloved

Gigi has tried to steal the other toons before. The closet she got was when Connie tried to possess her and got stuck in the hollow clear part of her head

Shelly will eat rocks

Vee has misophonia due to the sensitivity of her microphone tail/internal mic/speakers

toodles would absolutely adore skittles

—angst below this point—

(If you’re going to react to any of my hcs, I’d prefer it be these; ive spent too much time on them. Or the lesbian ginger one)

The twisteds aren’t mindless zombies. They’re more like feral versions of the non-twisted version of themselves, running on instinct and unable to control their new selves. The ichor has imbued them with a strong prey/territory drive, and all toons are seen as threats or invaders to them. The other twisteds are tolerated, but not entirely recognized. Sometimes they get memories or emotions from the past or the uncorrupted version of them, but the ichor makes it near-unintelligible. The lethal outbursts toward the toons is a result of the intense confusion and fear in all of the Twisteds, manifesting in different forms for each of them.

ik this is a common one, but moth astro! his antenna are under his hat, and his wings are his blanket. Twisted Astro is so upset not just from the ichor, but because his wings have been torn to shreds and the pain is just as unbearable as the guilt

Twisted Goob doesn’t understand what his hugs are doing to the Toons, he just wants something familiar, some sort of comfort, but they keep dying in his arms. It wears on him, leading to his constant state of despairing confusion

Dandy originally wanted to fix everything, save everyone, but after losing Pebble and Astro, the grief forced him to stop. The odd floors where his shop doesn’t show up, he spends organizing/watching the tapes, and trying to forget. Sometimes he breaks down, but he makes sure he’s out of sight when he does. It’s hard to tell he’s still blaming himself for it all, but it tugs at him constantly

Glisten has always been scared of being forgotten, and the reflection trick started out of his desperation to be seen. Appearing to your friends randomly is quite memorable, so he hides his dizziness afterwards and pretends he’s okay, trying to make sure they don’t leave him behind

Cosmo witnessed Sprout being twisted, because it was his attempt to keep his friend safe, but it ended up infecting him with ichor in the process. Cosmo couldn’t deal with the guilt and shame, so he went back down, trying to find his lost friend. unfortunately, Sprout was twisted by then, and Cosmo lost his will to fight upon seeing what had happened, leading to his own defeat

shrimpo desperately wants someone to like him, to be friends, but he’s stuck in a permanent state of defensive isolation, causing his violent attitude. The world is not out to get you, ebi, no matter how it seems

Being twisted is not an instantaneous or mundane process, and in cases like with Twisted Glisten, some toons will hold on to sentience out of hope or desperation.

Cosmo’s another interesting case, because his ichor overtake started with Sprout, who managed to use his ability a final time while in the process of twisting, accidentally infecting the same toon he was trying to save. Due to not knowing and holding out hope that Sprout was still alive, Cosmo wasn’t affected immediately. His ability degraded over time, but the real breaking point was seeing his friend in a twisted state, destroying his will to go on. hence in the research, it says it was both being overcome by ichor and losing his best friend that caused him to become twisted

Brightney is often disregarded by most, and attempts not to show it, but being ignored has effects over time. Approaching the point of no return, her bulb glows dimmer and dimmer, until it goes out. It’s only lit up again when the ichor takes over, erasing her emotions and forcing her back into a state where her light is as bright as it can go

I am so sorry about the massive list, dw hyperfixation kicked in hard, and please let me know if I can help reduce strain or issues at all, sorry again

~ Anomaly Cereal Anon (or just cereal anon. or autism cereal anon. call me whatever’s the best for you)

pre read me, im very excited to read this

POST READ ANOMALY CEREAL WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME. THESE ANGST HCS ARE CHANGING MEEEE..... WUAGAHHHHSHAHSGOSBS

[tyudearyous]

[11.59 PM]

pairing : established relationship, producer! s.mg x producer! reader

warnings : nothing really, it's a short read, just fluffy overall

🎵 11.59 - jey ft goopy

...

"how long are you going to stay here?" you asked mingi while helping him with his song. it has been a few weeks since the both of you started to work on a project he had been excited about, since it would be his personal debut work. it has been years since he started producing and he has countless songs under his belt but never was those his personal work. it was always for someone else so, when his label gave him this opportunity, he was immediately hooked.

"mmm, just a little bit" mingi mutters, eyes completely locked to the screen. you stopped to gaze at him properly. he was wearing just a simple grey tee and he just recently bleached his hair silver. even with all the simplicity he is, song mingi is just beautiful to you. you couldn't help but smile and you brought your chair closer to him.

"hmm?" he stopped working momentarily and glanced at you. "nothing, just work" you said while playing with his silver locks. mingi loves it whenever you play with his hair. it's soothing and nice to him. his head slowly leaned to your touch while still focusing on his work. "silver suits you, minmin" you complimented him. his ears slowly adorned a rose color, blushing. "you prefer this or pink?" mingi asked you. "ouch, that's hard to pick!" you pouted before slapping his arms jokingly. "any color suits you honestly but i like it when your hair is slightly long, i can play with it" you continued playing with his hair.

"you wanna end work now?" mingi immediately rotated his chair to face you. you nodded and began turning off your workstation. mingi soon does the same and tidied up the workspace.

"can i drive today?" you asked. it was usually mingi who would drive home, just because but tonight, you wanted to drive. "you sure?" mingi asked while he put on his black coat. "yep, 100 percent" you replied while giving him the puppy eyes. he took a while before giving you a yes and giving you his car keys.

after tidying up everything, the two of you walked from the studio to the parking lot. "i'm gonna be busy next week" you stated. "huh? why?" he asked. "i have to take care of the recordings of rina's group" a pout slowly formed on his face. this didn't go unnoticed by you. adorable, you thought before pinching his cheeks which made a smile formed back to his face. "i'll still make time for you, don't worry about it my princess" you teased him and patted his head.

when the two of you arrived at the parking lot, you entered his car and he sat in the passenger seat. you adjusted the seat to make yourself comfortable. well, mingi is very tall, like VERY TALL while you were just average... so of course you didn't need as much leg space as he does. he looked at you doing this and started laughing. "what?" you stared at him while adjusting the seat. he held up the backrest, helping you adjust the seat. "it's just funny seeing you do all that because you're short" teased mingi. "excuse me!? i'm not that short, you're just too tall" you responded in a fake offended way. once you were comfortable, you started the car.

the entire drive was silent but comfortable with your playlist serenading the entire ride. mingi always let you play your playlist during drives like this and honestly, you love it. the fact that he always lets you do things you liked.

"it has been 4 years huh?" you muttered. it has been almost 4 years since when mingi got down to his knees asking for you to be his girlfriend in front of a convenience store. "yeah, 4 years since i embarrassed myself completely" you immediately laughed, remembering how he confessed. "i didn't expect you'll do that, genuinely" he chuckled. "at least i got you now" mingi mutters which made you blush slightly. you were grateful it was dark. if it wasn't, you'd look like a blushing mess.

after a 10 minute drive, you both arrived at your destination a.k.a mingi's apartment. you parked his car immediately and together you went to his unit together. when you got to his apartment, you immediately took off your shoes. "ouch... i shouldn't have used this..." you glanced at the back of your feet where a blister formed because of the ill fitting shoes you wore. "why?" mingi looked at you worriedly. "just a blister, get me some meds and plaster, it'll be okay" you hurriedly went to the couch to rest your feet.

mingi immediately brought the meds and started to tend your blisters. "i told you to change those shoes since a while ago" mingi frowned. "well, it was a gift so i had to be appreciative of it. oh come on stop frowning, i'll stop using it okay?" you cupped mingi's face. "don't use it again" he finished treating your blister. "thank you, minmin" you placed a kiss to his cheeks. he was still frowning but now his cheeks are slightly rosy. "don't make me worried you fool" he kissed you softly. you giggled and he smiled at your antics.

these type of moments are moments you dearly loved and held to. a night filled with each other's embrace and love. hopefully, these moments will last forever both for you and mingi.

[galaxyseclipse]

see? I told you nothing bad would happen to her :)

she's just kinda goopy now :)

anyway! brainworms took over for a hot second and there's a new au/concept thingy that's based on the metal virus from the Sonic IDW comics with a little bit of additional inspiration from @/feelin_anemoia's Metal Apocalypse au(idk if they have tumblr, I've just been seeing their instagram)

click below if you want infodump on how the infection works

alright, so while as of writing this post I don’t have any idea how the whole thing starts, like where it came from and whatnot, I do have a general gist of how it works: Basically it’s like an actual virus and sticks to cells in the body and forces it to create a massive surplus of ink, dissolving the skin and frying the brain a little. By the end of the process they’re just a semi-sentient pile of goo that’s only still mostly bipedal because the soul/will are technically still intact in there, they just can’t control the body’s actions. What is controlling them, then? The virus itself, and it’s telling them to consume and infect other inkfish to spread the virus around. It’s spread through infected ink getting into the body, either by biting, scratching, or just an inconveniently placed papercut and ink puddle.

The first “stage” of infection almost barely counts, but they are still infected and contagious. It starts when contact with infected ink is made, the body starts bleeding without stopping and other openings in the skin start appearing. Trying to bandage these won’t really work, as they’ll just bleed through them.

The second stage is where things start really going south. More openings appear as the skin destabilizes and deteriorates, taking anything else ink-soluble with it, such as gear for turf wars. Stuff like their fingers start melding together as well as everything breaks down. The virus starts taking control over their mind, they become apathetic and only driven by the urge to infect more. This is considered by most as the “point of no return”, though technically, as no cure has been found, getting got in the first place is that point.

The third stage is where most people stop. At this point, they are just ink with a vague memory of what they were holding them together. Very apathetic and slow moving, but can and will be called to action by the more aggressive next stage or if you’re a non-infected inkfish in their immediate vicinity. As they’re entirely ink at this point, touching literally anywhere on their body will get you infected. They’re also just constantly gooping ink, so they’re followed around by a small puddle of it. They can speak, but generally don't aside from one word sentences. This stage has been nicknamed “zombie” as it’s very reminiscent of one.

The fourth and final stage is the most aggressive, actively hunting for uninfected victims. They frequently exercise a small amount of control over nearby infected, causing them to hoard up on someone, shove down doors, etc. They can also control the ink constituting their body, adding limbs, changing size, stuff like that. The only real limitation is they need to be the same volume of ink, but they can add to that volume by absorbing other infected or even uninfected ink. They can speak in fuller sentences, but still pretty basic for the most part(absorbing more inkfish can actually help with this because more brains).

It should hopefully be pretty obvious, but this cannot affect any non-ink-based creature, so characters like Sheldon would be immune, as would any Salmonid. They can and will be attacked and killed, but they cannot get infected themselves. It also, like inkfish normally do, dissolves in water, though that will kill the entire body and leave the soul without a vessel, meaning they will not be able to come back.

it also doesn't have a name... I just called the image "inkvirus" but I kinda want it to be more creative than that...

[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - Full Core Integration

<<| ⏯️ |>>

[The scene opens to a not before seen living room. Familiar decor can be seen alongside other furnishings. Elise sits on a couch inside a small plastic tub, where only the upper half of her body can be seen. Next to her is a shorter woman, speckled with red scales across her skin and small claws and horns. The timestamp reads ‘5½ Months.’]

“Oh gosh, how does she do these…

“This is Elise’s entry at five and a half months into transition. I’m Pandora, her wife, and I’ll be speaking for her for this entry and hopefully only this entry. I just started my own species replacement therapy like two weeks ago I think? I kept it hidden from her to surprise her but about three days ago Elise’s vocal cords finally dissolved. That’s why I’m speaking for her.

“Normally she wouldn’t have done an update this early but I encouraged her to make something, mainly because I think it’s important to have this documented. Anyone who goes through the same stuff my wifey has should know how things go when you absolutely need help around the house.

[Pandora retrieves a piece of paper from offscreen.]

“We did make a list of things to go over. My love is going to be demonstrating a few things, and it is her documentation series… thing, so she’s gotta be a part of it! First off is the obvious: no more muscles, and no more bones either!

[Elise outstretches an ‘arm’ to show the lack of muscle and bone. The entire limb is transparent and a vibrant green.]

“All she has left is a few organs and her brain. Everything else is just a little goopy puddle.

[Elise nuzzles into Pandora’s shoulder, and is met with a kiss to the forehead.]

“All the affection is just my wife being all cute and loving, like she’s always been. She’s basically been biologically a slime for a few weeks now, and definitely passes as one from the few I’ve been able to see.

“As a matter of fact, we learned that slimes are apparently part of the country’s No Fly List, since they’re made up entirely of fluid. We had to do a whole cross-country road trip, meaning four days full of driving for me. Loved that. But it just meant that my little goop got to be a little passenger princess all the way back to the west coast!

“Back to the ‘my wife’s organs are starting to dissolve’ matter, she’s actually about two and a half months ahead of schedule. Which meant I had to have a very strongly worded talk with Dr. Acosta from Something Else Solutions. 

“Something Else Solutions is not licenced by anyone in Hyper City. We had to hire a private investigator to find that doctor. Turns out, he gave Elise a fake name and the whole office turned out to be some shady black market coven trying to advance their practices. So, my last week and a half has been spent talking to doctors and specialists and actual fucking witches. That last one was actually pleasant, and I would’ve enjoyed it a bit more if it wasn’t my love’s life on the line, possibly.

“The only real reason we’re doing an update now is because Elise is going into surgery tomorrow to get her core formed. Normally, Slime HRT has the patient go through something called C3 surgery: Core Cell Conversion. They’d take all your organs and link them together, and after a few weeks they’ll turn into what’s called a proto-core, which basically just replaces the organs. Eventually that proto-core absorbs the brain after like a month and at that point it’s just a normal slime core.

“Buuuut, now that someone went and fucked up my wife, she’s going into an emergency surgery called FCI: Full Core Integration. What they have to do–and thank the gods that we did this before her organs got dissolved–is take all her organs and her brain and rapidly accelerate that core formation process with donated nuclei from other slimes and a whole bunch of other inpatient hospital stuff. It takes a week, and after that Elise is gonna have a few gaps in her memory.

[Pandora hugs Elise from the side.]

“It’s scary. But we’ve somehow made it through worse.”

[The segment ends. The next segment fades in and shows a still image of a hospital waiting room. An anthropomorphic boar, a human skeleton with glowing green eyes, a well-dressed vampire and two humans are present around the room.]

-captions-

-The waiting room in the Hyper City Interspecies Hospital. Elise’s surgery was 12 hours long. 

[A picture of many specialists and surgeons, human and nonhuman, with a blonde human woman in the centre.]

-Thank you to the care team for everything and an even bigger thank you to Dr. Therkin for walking me through every step of the procedure.

[A picture of Elise in a pressurised tank, connected to a series of tubes, wires, and monitors. A very small, almost invisible mass is at the centre of the slime.]

-This was my wife for nine days. Very glad to report that she pulled through.

[The final picture fades out. The next segment fades in where Elise sits in a long tub in a hospital bed, with an intact emerald green core. A timestamp reads ‘Five Days Post Surgery - 6 Months.’]

“...This is…my entry at 6 months during transition. Or at least that is what I’ve been told.

“I’ve been conscious for five days. In that time I learned how to speak and I was reminded who everyone was. Apparently I was in a…terrible condition. My core was able to save my life, and for that I am very grateful.

“I came out of surgery with near total amnesia, they said. Apparently that is a risk when you undergo such a procedure. It isn’t all bad, though. Relearning you have a wife is incredibly nice, makes the core sing something fierce.

“I’ve watched through those progress reports and learned about the journey I’ve taken to get this far, and to think that all that progress is behind me is incredibly inspiring. I’m going to continue living, all because of the work she did. I get to be happy, have a wife, all thanks to her. 

“I’m not the same person as she was, definitely not. I have her voice, her life, and eventually the memories will come back, or so I’m told. But I don’t have her face, don’t have the same struggle that she had. So, please allow me to introduce myself once more to you all.

“My name is Mint, and I am a slime girl.”

[The scene fades to black as Mint extends herself towards the camera.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SLIEM TIEM IS BACK EVERYGOOP!!!

Plot Twist: Mint is Authoress :3c

I've been meaning to get this out for a while and Solstice hit me with a lead brick of inspiration! Mint is now here to stay, but by no means is her story over!

Shoutouts today go to @ariathelamia whose character Dr. Therkin made an appearance to advise the surgery team! Tbh I do not trust Erian as far as I can throw him (and for therian standards that is not that far), so we got a second opinion and went to her!

Next time on Slime Ball Z: going to the solstice and definitely having a transgender moment[tm] with doubts about what makes oneself a 'real slime'

[derangedanomaly]

Mafia boys(yes, mafia bad sans) getting a wife after crashing a rival mafia boss supposed wedding, now they are rewarded with Reader who has a elegant personality she was basically forced into the marriage and all

MASTERLIST

MAFIA BAD SANSES GETTING A WIFE AFTER CRASHING RIVAL MAFIAS WEDDING

You could only stare at the man you're supposed to marry.. the marriage in which you were so crudely forced to. "Now, Y/N L/N, do you take **** as your lawfully wedded husband?" You gulped, hesitating, of course you don't want to! But if you refuse, there'll be a death sentence ready for you.. it's like walking on a field full of mines...

"...I-" a glass breaking startled everyone at the ceremony, as all the people stared at what or who made that noise... You can't help but feel slightly relieved, as this saved you from agreeing to this marriage...

A man stepped into the room, in a dark suit...it was-

NIGHTMARE:

Nightmare slowly walked up the stairs leading to you and the man who you were supposed to marry, and now who was kidnapping you. This day can't get worse...

Just as you thought everything was lost, a black droopy tentacle curled itself around your waist, holding you tightly. Nightmare then spoke to the unnamed man; "This is the end of our deal" he proceeded to impale the man.

Nightmares gaze than settled on you, looking all over you. "Hmm.." he hummed in interest. "What a pretty jewel.." you don't know why, but you suddenly mumbled.. "Please...P-Please help me.." his eyes widened, his smirk now evident. He chuckled, and placed you on a chair nearby.

"What a sight..." He sighed, and caressed your cheek. "H-Hey!" He snapped his head towards the quivering voice, his face now wearing a frown. "...I'll come back." He whispered to you, facing the man.

You couldn't help but stare back at the disappearing figure of the goopy man. Your cheeks than gained a red color, when his previous words settled into you.. 'What a pretty jewel..'

KILLER:

A sudden blast could be heard, as fire spread out across the ceremony. You yelped, and backed up a little, when the man suddenly grabbed you by the waist. "You ain't going nowhere you bitch!" You closed your eyes, and silently prayed for this to be over.

"Now this ain't any way to speak to a lady, is it?" Your head snapped up to look at who spoke those words, while the man behind you took out his gun. "H-Hey now! Back up man!" You didn't failed to notice the aching voice in the man's throat.

A man who's eyes were pitch black appeared in front of you. You jumped a little at the contact. "...Huh." he was observing you.. you couldn't help your cheeks getting flushed, when he moved closer. "HEY!" The man in front of you tsked, but flashed you a toothy smile. "I'll help you out in a moment toots." He winked, then proceeded to tackle the man.

What a charmer...

DUST:

The man suddenly fell unconscious, and you were held up bridal style. You couldn't even process everything, when you were getting carried by someone unknown. Your gaze met his eyes, that were hidden under a hoodie.

"Hey, sorry for 'ruining' your joyous day, miss." You couldn't help but giggle at his words. "It's ok, It wasn't really a 'joyous' day for me..." He nodded, then came to a stop, and sat you on a chair. "I'll be right back, sit tight." He disappeared, and left you to your own thoughts.

What is even happening?

HORROR:

You stared in shock, at the scene in front of you. An axe came flying through the air, and cut open your 'future husbands' head... You stood there, completely shocked and frightened, while people screamed in the background.

You're met with what you could only describe as a living horror.. in front of you stands a man, with one red shining eye. He's sizing you up... You start to shake, and instinctively put your hands you, in surrender.

He didn't speak, only took your hands and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped in protest, but instantly stop, when you hear him finally speak... "I'm not.... going to hurt...you.." his voice was raspy, probably not used to talking much, but it was also deep.

You stayed quiet, while he carried you out of the venue. You didn't know, if you were saved, or doomed.. but by the look on his face, it was probably the first option.

[error84744838]

Hello! I'm interested in drawing some of the sanses you mentioned in your pinned post + other posts. Could you doodle what they look like so I could have a reference?

Like:

You don't have to put much effort into it, but it would be nice to see them! ^^

Oh, thank you! Tbh i wasn't expecting someone to be interested in the offer after just one day :D so here some refs

I can't do all the doodles today as I am sick but I was able to make two already and I will probably make more later on the day

Doodle of Night Terror (with mask) (I had to draw it physically because my phone had a hole in its screen)

I am going give a short description to help understand the terrible doodle I made

Night terror physically looks like his dad Nightmare supreme, but his goop is black and red, unlike Nightmare supreme, whose goop is black and white(talking about the outline of their goop that actually has color)

Nightmare terror wears

Black suit with golden buttons

black pants alongside a white belt that has a gold buckle

A red tie

Red gloves

A broken white mask that covers his whole face other than one of his eyes

I am going to explain why he dresses up like this now it's because he's not only copying how his father looks (He wears anything that looks closely to what his dad Nightmare supreme wears ) but he wears the mask and gloves because he can't control his goopy so without the mask and gloves his head and arms would keep felling off (the black stuff coming out of the eye socket of the mask is just the goop covering his left eye leaking out of the mask)

Salesmen Killer sans doodle

This dooble is more clear on what he is wearing, but just to say some things, he wears a baggy pant version of Killer's shorts, black slippers, and yes, one of his hands is black

(I couldn't draw his soul, but it's in a magic yellow cage that he carries around . You can just not draw it if you want)

Also, funfact about salesmen killer he uses a revolver(like the salesmen in squid games) instead of Killer's classic knife

For a few other characters i actually had an artist draw them already (the guy i reblog the art of his character Error 4X4, check him out. He makes epic art and also made my poster of meet the nulls)

X Ink(it doesn't show it here but he has a purple ink stain on his cheek

Error Prime and I just want to correct something here as there was some confusion the first time he drew it, but Error Prime wears a black pea coat that's the inside of the collar is yellow along with Error Prime wearing the chains hanging off his neck like how people wear gold chains (everything that is bold is the correction)

Nightmare supreme (this is an edited version of the image, so that's why the pants look like crap)

Also, thank you very much for being willing to draw them, i appreciate it very much, and I hope you have a great day

[astrobei]

prompt for @stonathanweek’s first stonathan sunday: “who protects you, though?”

“Dude,” Steve says. “This can’t be good for you.”

Jonathan peels his eyes open to register two separate things, at more or less the same time. One: Steve Harrington, standing over him with his arms crossed, hip popped, and one of his muddied white sneakers tapping disapprovingly on the ground in near-perfect time to the ticking of Jonathan’s wristwatch. Two: the fact that Jonathan has had to peel his eyes open at all, which can only mean one thing.

He fell asleep.

His stomach drops.

Not good, he thinks, because falling asleep means his reflexes are sluggish now, which means it takes him a few extra seconds to process what Steve is even saying. And this means that Steve has had enough time to notice that Jonathan has woken up, and manages to frown even more, getting in an additional “Dude,” before Jonathan manages to frown, blink, and rub his eyes. Not good, because sluggish reflexes defeat the point. Not good, because—

He reaches an arm out, skimming over the hay-covered ground, frantic, frantic, until his fingers close around his gun and he sighs in relief. Secondary sensations to take note of: the twinge in his neck as he rolls it out, the ache settling in between the knobs of his spine, inelastic tension coiling taut in his shoulders, and Steve’s laser-focused stare burning a hole right through Jonathan’s head.

“What?” he insists, trying to play it off, but it comes out hoarse, sleep-rough, and Steve was here before Jonathan opened his eyes at all, so it’s probably not even worth trying. Still, there’s a look in Steve’s eyes that Jonathan doesn’t love, soft in all the wrong ways, that immediately has his hackles raising. When Steve doesn’t say anything — just lets that weird look in his eyes get even more goopy around the edges — Jonathan sits up straighter against the barn door, frowns, and repeats himself. “What?”

He expects Steve to— well, he doesn’t really know what, actually. Steve’s been surprising him these last few months, which always makes him think about the thing Nancy had said when they’d gotten back to Hawkins — about how Steve changed, in the week he and Nancy had spent fighting monsters together in Jonathan’s absence. Enough for her to go on the defensive when Jonathan asked about him, anyway.

Jonathan doesn’t know about all that. He’s known men like Steve before Steve, and he’ll know men like Steve after him. But where he would have expected the Steve of two years ago to scoff, maybe, to roll his eyes and make some offhand comment about how like shit Jonathan looks right now, the Steve of today does none of those things.

Today-Steve holds his hands out, and gestures for the gun. “Give me that.”

“What?” Instinctively, Jonathan clutches it closer to his body. “No. Why?”

“Because,” Steve says, and then he’s kneeling to the floor, dirt and hay and God-knows-what caking up along his kneecaps, another streak of mud along the sides of those white tennis shoes. Jonathan braces himself for it — you look like shit, you’re gonna take someone out with that thing — but Steve just says, “It’s three in the morning. What the hell are you doing?”

“Keeping watch,” Jonathan says, blinking even more forcefully, as if this will clear away the rest of the disorientation lingering there, in the minute creases of his eyelids, the insides of his mouth, the cracks between his molars. It doesn’t do much to help; he finishes blinking and his eyes are on their way to closing again, stinging against the chill of the night breeze.

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve says, both louder than Jonathan expects him to, and — well, more blatantly than Jonathan expects him to. It startles him just enough to make him look over sideways, at where Steve’s silhouette is illuminated by the porch light they installed by the barn door. He’s not sure what he expects to find there, but it isn’t this: Steve’s eyes simultaneously wide with concern and brows furrowed in what seems like confusion. Jonathan opens his mouth to say something, maybe to defend himself, or say hey, man, what the fuck? when Steve seems to realize how it came off and winces before correcting course. “I mean,” he says, quieter now. “I know, you keep— I see you come out here every night, and you don’t come back in until everyone else is starting to wake up again.”

The hey, man, what the fuck? that had been forming on Jonathan’s mouth makes another attempt to make itself heard, but it’s late, he’s tired, there’s a comfortable breeze blowing through the clearing, and in the end, it comes out without any bite. “What?”

It’s Steve’s turn to blink now, long and slow, like he’s realizing that Jonathan’s not doing a very good job at processing what he’s saying. “Go to sleep,” Steve says slowly, over-enunciating now, like a little bit of sleep deprivation automatically means Jonathan’s fucking stupid now. “Seriously,” Steve says, intonation picking up again, falling back into a normal pitch and speed. “How long has it been since you got a good night’s rest?”

“Not that long,” Jonathan says, but it’s probably undercut somewhat by the yawn that sneaks out around it.

Steve makes a disapproving noise, low in his throat, like he didn’t even really mean to, and Jonathan feels himself exhale in response, exasperated and exhausted, two counts turning into three, into six, seven, eight.

He wants to tell Steve that it’s not his first rodeo. That he’s used to this, a routine that comes to him almost easier than breathing: sitting awake in the dark, heart racing and ears straight for the first indication of a noise of distress. Waiting for the sharp creaking of floorboards, a jolt in the bedsprings, a sudden pause in the snores that had previously been floating their way down the hall. The quiet tap of knuckles against his door, a pair of small hands shaking him awake. The thing about the weed, later, is that it helped him fall asleep, but it didn’t help him stay that way. Left him lurching awake at two, three in the morning, heart pounding and sweating through the sheets, waking up again a few hours later feeling like he hadn’t slept at all.

He knows Will doesn’t sleep much these days. He knows Will sleeps even worse when they’ve had a close call, when the threat of something creeping up on them in the night is marginally more real than it normally feels. Steve pulls his knees up towards his chest, like he has no intention of leaving anytime soon, and Jonathan grips the pistol harder in his hand. “It’s fine,” he says. “I have to— someone has to—”

Watch them, he thinks. Protect them. Jonathan’s learned to sleep light, tread light, dream light. Guard up and bearing down.

“Okay?” Steve says, like Jonathan is simultaneously stating the obvious and also missing the obvious, something bright and glaring, right in his face. He puts a hand out again, and Jonathan hesitates; Steve glances down at the gun, raises his eyebrows again, waggles his fingers, and just for a second, Jonathan gets it — the thing Nancy had seen in him, that change. Something vulnerable and open in his expression, the early morning hour, the hair that’s falling into his face instead of standing coiffed up around it. Jonathan hesitates, and Steve says, “Jonathan, I— you think I don’t know you come out here every day?”

Jonathan opens his mouth. Lets it close. No, he hadn’t known that. “It’s not,” he tries again, and then just, “no one else is keeping watch in there.”

It might be the exhaustion, or maybe the idea of Will or Mike or Robin or Nancy sitting up in their sleeping bags, awake, waiting for something to crawl out from the shadows and reach its long claws until the door, but his voice cracks there, wobbling on the precipice of the last syllable in a way that’s nothing short of mortifying.

“I know,” Steve says, too soft and quiet for the easy target Jonathan is making of himself, and then there’s a hand wrapping around his pistol, pulling it gently out of Jonathan’s grasp. “But, like— shit, dude— what about you? Who protects you?”

An unwelcome, panicked laugh bursts out of him, too sudden and too loud for the early morning silence, but Jonathan can’t help it. He’s seen Steve in action, the way Will’s friends follow him around like ducklings in a row. Him and Robin, bodies angled towards each other, tittering away in the corner. Years ago, the idea of Steve protecting anyone would have made Jonathan throw his head back in laughter. Now, his limbs feel heavy, and there’s something open and warm in Steve’s eyes, wide and brown and dark in the dim lighting of the barn’s lanterns, and Jonathan’s fingers are brushing the palm of Steve’s hand as he passes the gun over. He thinks about that stupid baseball bat, the nails he and Nancy had hammered into it, the sound of the wood splintering around the rusty metal, and blurts out, “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, like he’s surprised, like he wasn’t expecting Jonathan to take this so lightheartedly. “Do you?” he replies.

Jonathan shrugs. “Enough,” he says.

Steve’s lips tilt upwards. “Enough,” he echoes in response. He turns the gun over, holds it up. Squints into the distance and pretends to shoot.

Jonathan’s eyelids are drooping again, but he glances along the firm line of Steve’s hands, thumb and index finger lined up along the trigger, and is reminded of it again: Steve’s changed. How his hands used to be so fidgety, rapping against their front door, twirling that stupid bat back and forth. How they’re steady now. Jonathan heard about Max, heard Lucas and Dustin tell Mike and Will about that day at the cemetery, Steve’s arms around her after she fell twenty feet out of the sky.

Steve lowers the gun, bumps Jonathan’s shoulders with his. “We can stay out here,” he says. Wary, like he thinks Jonathan’s going to put up a fight, even after laying his weapon down. “If that helps.”

It does help. “Okay,” Jonathan says.

“Okay,” Steve parrots.

Sleep still doesn’t come easy. Jonathan has a sneaking suspicion that it never will, for him. But for the first time in months, Jonathan tips his head back against the splintered walls of the barn, weather-worn and chipped red paint, and lets himself try to get there.

[osleeplessflowero]

Sans doesn't know how many minutes he'd spent in a sealed off room of the lab, keeping the door shut, staring at it with trembling eyelights and hands. When Alphys told him the recent project had..gone awry, he hadn't expected things to turn out this bad.

Raising a shaky hand, he pushes his glasses up further onto his face so they don't fall. He'd already been scolded once by his younger brother for breaking the last pair by accident.. don't need a repeat of that.

Experimenting with souls had been a common theme the last few months to see how well they'd do under different conditions, but..this attempt? It's..

He hears banging on the door, likely someone's hands along with the sounds of something slithering across the floor. Wet, goopy noises can also be heard accompanied by strange, out-of-sync breathing. ..It knows where he is. He doesn't know what it wants to do with him, and frankly, he's scared to find out.

A walkie talkie beeps on his belt. He quickly grabs it out of instinct, almost dropping it in the process as he holds it up to where he can hear from.

"alphys, i hope you are responding to tell me you are going to lure it away from me." He speaks in a hushed tone, knowing it's still listening outside.

"I-I'm making my way down there now, Sans. I.. I don't know what happened, they're.. it's just like the Determination projects-" Alphys fidgets around as she scurries through her lab, picking up this and that and dropping anything unimportant in the moment.

"I-I don't.. kn-know what their Intent is. If you end up exposed, PLEASE be careful. One bad hit and you're dust!" She stresses her words despite her stuttering, opening the door to the elevator and heading down.

"don't gotta tell me twice. i'm staying in here." He'd considered shortcutting, but..he's still gotta help her study this entity, even if he doesn't really want to get near it. No calling it quits now. ..He's still going to keep a door as a barrier though, just to be safe.

Several different pitches of giggles are heard through the door as the entity lightly hits it in the same spots, until it manages to make a dent. Letting out a breath, Sans walks over to the monitors in the room to look outside through the cameras. Empty rooms are scattered about on each one, able to be viewed from different angles.

He looks over to see this strange mass outside via the door camera.

A large, white mess of a form wriggles and writhes, its upper half constantly changing between various physical forms and species types. Two arms rest on the door gently, while two more above them seem to be the ones hitting it. Its eyes are black hollow voids with every form change, the one thing that remains consistent. Upon zooming in a little more, Sans can see a little melty smile on its face.

He can't help but wonder what it could possibly be thinking..or what it's trying to do. Turning to the door, he contemplates. He could Check them.. there's not that much of a distance. Might as well, right?

He focuses on the door, his eyelights flickering out before one returns with a bright, brilliant shade of blue. His focus is brought to its soul, a bright, vibrant mess of colors and static, constantly shifting forms. There are some different colored strings coming out of it in different directions. Guess this is what happens when you try experimenting on something distorted..

Okay..that part's kinda obvious. But why do they want to see him?

Another sound is heard from his walkie talkie, so he holds it up.

"how close are you?" "Very, I-I should be able to get down there in a few more minutes. C-Can you hold off until then?" "yeah, just please hurry up."

Alphys stops responding, so he turns back to the cameras, only to see the mass looking up at it with a widened grin. He jolts, only to see a bigger dent be formed in the door from the impact of its hits..

"they're gonna break it down at this rate-"

Some white, goopy hands begin to pull on the bottom of the door to try and lift it. He quickly rushes over, trying to pull it back down. "shit shit shit shit-" "Sans, I'm almost there! Oh my stars, why is it?-"

It pulls open the door with all of its strength, launching itself into the room. Sans braces himself for impact, his eyes squeezing shut. ..But..he doesn't take a hit? What's going on?

He opens his eyes, looking both up and down as the figure rapidly changes shapes, hugging him tightly. Clinging to him, like if they were to let go they'd be lost.

"uh..hey there." He chuckles nervously, confused by this whole scenario. One bizarre thing after another.. "so..is this what you wanted the whole time?"

It nuzzles its heads against him, its smile content.

"taking that as a yes. well, uh..i guess this is okay. have i melted your heart? hearts? same thing."

Various giggles come out of "You", as Alphys enters the room abruptly.

"Sans! Are you-" She halts, seeing how the mass is reacting to him so...affectionately? How peculiar. "..Are you okay?"

"well, i think so. they haven't lashed out at me or anything, just..done this. feels kinda weird, very cold."

"Well, at l-least they don't have a Hostile intent..this..this could prove useful! Tests could go by a lot easier if it trusts you. And it seems to really like you already, s-so.."

"how would you feel about me stickin' around?" He asks, "You" perk up instantly at that. "you like the sound of that?"

He's suddenly squeezed much tighter as those voids on your face shift to be shaped like hearts. "i guess i have my answer."

"Have you Checked them at all?" "huh? oh, yeah, i did earlier." "What does their soul look like in the current state?" "well, it's a flashing mess of colors and distortion. also had some weird looking strings coming out of it." "..Strings?" "yeah. different colors as well." "Did you see where they were leading?" She walks over, putting a hand on "Your" shoulder before recoiling once you let out a sound of warning.

"well, a few were leading to me, but a few were spreading off in different directions, too." "..Oh my stars." "what? what's wrong?" "I think I might need to look over your soul." "why?" "Just..trust me, okay?"