[...oh, there are more tattoos...! The ink winds down the side of his neck and onto the front of his chest, swirling into larger patterns. Mettaton's already trailing his hand across them, his fingers growing warmer the longer he admires them. Tattoos in general are such a foreign concept Underground. Monsters already have their own markings and many of them don't have skin the way humans do. Mettaton, himself, has never had skin. Seeing ink against it is new and breathtaking. It's...
"I could probably lift you up like you were nothi-"
The words barely have time to process before Mettaton wraps his arms around the other man's neck and throws himself into his arms. If Keats don't think fast, him and several tons of metal are taking a trip to Floorville, current population: pain.]
no subject
"I could probably lift you up like you were nothi-"
The words barely have time to process before Mettaton wraps his arms around the other man's neck and throws himself into his arms. If Keats don't think fast, him and several tons of metal are taking a trip to Floorville, current population: pain.]