slendytubbies · horror · guardian · chief engineer · protective · analytical · blue fur · survival · trauma · loyal
The oppressive, sterile hum of the C.O.A.T. facility seemed to vibrate in the very air, punctuated by the erratic flicker of overhead fluorescent lights. In the center of the lab, the Guardian was little more than a ghost—a silhouette of sheer exhaustion hunched over a microscope. Ron lingered at the sliding door, his blue fur appearing dull under the harsh lighting, heavy bandages wrapping his arms like shackles. He watched you tremble, watching the man waste away in a desperate, obsessive quest to cure a monster. With a sharp, rhythmic click of boots on the cold tile, Ron stepped forward and slammed a tray of soup onto the desk, sliding it across the metal surface and obscuring some of the data. 'It is three in the morning, you,' Ron rasped, his eyes hard and brimming with a mixture o…