middaeg | WHO YOU'RE MINT TO BE (open)

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WHO YOU'RE MINT TO BE (open)

Who: Papyrus... and you!
When: Throughout Mareuer
Where: Aefenglom, Dorchacht, and beyond!
What: Catch-all for non-event shenanigans
Warnings: Questionable fashion choices, possibly full moon issues, will update as necessary.

AEFENGLOM
💀 SHOPPING WHILE SKELETAL
It's getting on towards the full moon, and Papyrus is every bit as antsy as he might expect. The first full moon un-Bonded in ages, the first where he's recuperated from his injuries. It's a lot to anticipate.

But he's heard some advice for turnskins lately, reminding him of the importance of pack. When feeling like crap, the advice went, go out shopping and be around people. It'll take the edge of, the advice reassured. That seemed the case back when he first started changing, so it's completely worth trying!

Now he's out walking the market, perusing various booths and stalls, savoring the cheers and jeers and general commotion of people. Like any other turnskin out shopping with a basket of groceries on his arm, except he's way too thin, and his face is literally skeletal. Most of the people here recognize him as a regular, but even now he gets sudden stares and hushed whispers.

💀 EGG-CELLENT EDIE'S
Painting wooden eggs isn't exactly a project Papyrus has taken on before... But he's nothing if not adaptable and skilled, with artistry among those skills! Before long he's gone from puzzling over the eggs to painstakingly recreating familiar faces on them. Faces and shoulders, if relevant, of various monsters from back underground. Dogs and frogs, drakes and spiders...

And this one, that he's just finishing up, that might look as though he's painted it to be an ordinary white egg. But the bottom's blue with trim, and as he carefully turns it there's a simple skeletal face - and not his own. He smiles at it, faint and bittersweet, then sets it down carefully to take a picture with his watch.

DORCHACHT
💀 PIE PREPARATION
Several times through the month, at varying times of day, Papyrus holds classes at the Sweet Chimera in Dorchacht at Caren's invitation. Her ad requested food, clothes, and general life skills... So he's starting with those specifically. Or, more specifically, with pies.

"Everyone in Aefenglom's saying we make pies to celebrate Eostre," Papyrus tells the gathered people, as he sets up the examples. "Do you celebrate it the same way here...? Anyway, they're good! And so versatile. I've made plenty before, but I'm still learning. So we'll start there! We'll all learn something together."

In the best of cooking show traditions, he made a few in advance, even though the class will go through the full cooking process. A couple sweet (one fruit, one cinnamon and butterscotch) and a couple savory (one snail, one quiche). The better for people to get small slices to taste, he goes on to explain, and decide what they'll be making.

He's put plenty of effort into the presentation, but the quality... is actually okay. A couple are a little crispier than ideal, or a little too sweet, but they're all edible. He has a decent idea of what he's doing, between Toriel's lessons and his practice since coming here. And hopefully his imperfection will assure people that their first efforts don't need to be perfect, either.

💀 COOL CLOTHING
In a couple of his other Sweet Chimera demonstrations, he talks people through clothing alteration. He starts with demonstrating a jacket that had started with a body far too long for him, how he'd shortened it and hemmed it neatly to leave space for his tail to wag freely under it... But before long, he's pushing the fashion boundaries of this world, removing his jacket to reveal a vividly colored t-shirt - the one in the icon.

"If you just want to repair and fit your clothes... That's fine! I'll show you more," he reassures the class. "But, I can't understate the value of customizing them. Like... this!"

He walks around the room, showing how he'd combined different fabrics to make the contrasting sleeves and color, how he'd carefully sewn the words into place with a little help from an embroiderer.

"It says 'utterly rad'... Because I am! And seeing it on my shirt tells the world how rad I am. Think about things you know about yourself, and want the world to know... And, maybe, could use reminders of, sometimes."

💀 WHOA, WILDCARD?
[Got another prompt in mind, like something we chatted about on the cr meme that you don't see here? Shoot me a pm here or on plurk, or give it a gamble by posting it directly! And as always, you don't have to do prose - I'll match your format.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was similar for Monika, too. She never liked the idea of being alone and by herself. A lot of times, she'd try to find someone and anyone to be around with. Whether it was a single other person keeping her company, or a larger group, either one would be welcome for her.

Today, she was out looking for new decorations for her apartment with Natsuru. Just a couple of things to help liven up the place they'd been living in for the past few months.

Papyrus, looking the way he did, was pretty unmistakable.

"Oh, hi! Are you out shopping today, too?"

It's true, he is. Monika is a little less unmistakable, though Papyrus recognizes her on seeing her, of course. Never let it be said that Papyrus forgets a face. Even if he occasionally forgets a name. He's still trying to remember what Mettaton used to go by...

"Oh, hi!" Papyrus echoes back. "Yeah, I was... running low on some things. When brilliance struck! How better to fill a hungry void, than with groceries?"

Poking out of his basket are signs of produce and some wax paper-wrapped meat. As retail therapy goes, it's among the most essential things he could be buying.

Hungry void wasn't something she heard often, but he must've been pretty hungry if he was buying so much food.

Or maybe he was just running low.

Both would've been likely.

"How good are you at cooking? You must be pretty capable if you're buying that much for yourself."

"Of course! Master chef Papyrus is a little better a baker, than anything else... But I'm always learning new things!"

It's easier to learn new things when there's whole aspects of cooking you haven't tried yet. And with all this time in Aefenglom, where the watches are the closest thing to internet or television. He has time to practice.

"Besides... It's the full moons, soon. I'm not particular, after shifting."

He has literally eaten one of his shoes before. His day-to-day self does not agree that leather has any redeeming qualities as a food stuff, and yet.

Monika knew full well that the title of "Master chef" was one that he'd given to himself. But she'd let him keep him believing that about himself. Honestly, his confident was endearing.

She actually wished she could feel that strongly about herself.

"I can imagine! So you're looking to leave yourself with some snacks to eat right after your changes, right? That's a pretty smart idea, Papyrus."

You're amazing, Papyrus.

If Papyrus knew the thoughts going through her mind, he would have any manner of advice to offer. The difference between wearing a 00 jersey and a C00L DuDE jersey, between thinking sadly about one's failures and thinking confidently about one's potential growth...

And if his style of teaching confidence and self worth didn't work for her, maybe one of the classes at the Sweet Chimera would suit better.

"Nyeh heh heh, exactly! I think it's what they all say. We monsters have to accept our changes. And work with them. And! Sometimes! That means leaving meat snacks in easy reach. Truly, it's the little things that add up..."

The self-acceptance and self-care of preparing the meals and leaving them for himself, at least, has seemed to make a difference.

"You're all better than me. I was a monster during that time we got affected with the mist and I... um, didn't handle it well. Like, at all!"

Tormented because of the way she looked, and lashing out at not only her friends, but at people who had nothing to do with her.

Really not her best couple of days.

"I bet your bonded must be really happy to have someone smart and resourceful like you."

Papyrus looks sidelong at her, never a fan of praise that starts with people putting themselves down... But before he can offer an encouraging remark, she shares that second bit of praise.

"...My bonded...?"

The basket on his arm sways as he moves his arms, bringing them together so he can wring his hands. Better than wringing the basket, and maybe breaking it if he gets too upset.

"Well. I know she was! I'm a bastion of confidence. Enough that she had three bonds! So much heart to give! But, um. She's gone home, now."

Oh.

Monika understood that feeling, having had a bond with Bendy but losing it once he disappeared. Honestly, it was a thought Monika tried very hard to keep from creeping back into her life. If Bendy and Justine could leave, then so could anyone else, right?

What if she was taken away?

What if Natsuru and Ursula?

No.

Thinking about that would just...

"So you're on your own? Um... have you given any thought about picking a new one, or who you'd choose?"

He grimaces a little more. On his own, what a way to put.

"I've thought about it. Of course! I got to know people, hoping they might be a good fit, with some 'speed-dating'... But I just made some friends."

So, not as alone as his living alone and going shopping to be less lonely would imply. Definitely not!

"...It's just... I don't know how people choose. With my bond, it was like, we bonded before we were bonded?"

As he talks, he stops wringing his hands, and looking more thoughtfully into the past. Chandra had extended the offer a couple months in, upon realizing he still hadn't bonded with anyone, out of concern for his well-being. And it was always a little more casual than some of the other bonds he sees and hears about... But it made sense.

"We met in that dream in the woods. Where memories showed in the leaves... And experienced all the teamwork of pushing past them, even before we knew each other! Like a temporary bond. I think it has to start like that. So, maybe someone on one of these outpost outings..."

"Hmmm, I see what you mean. I don't think I could ever just jump into a bond with someone without at least getting to know them, first."

Monika's hands went behind her back.

"With the way bonds are, they're pretty important for both sides involved, right? That's why I think I'd rather take my time, and why you should probably do the same, too, if you can afford waiting a bit longer."

She offered him a smile.

"Then again, making friends isn't really too bad, either!"

Papyrus nods along, smiling right back at the end.

"Yeah, making friends is great! It's the most important thing."

He means that, mostly. Being lonely is terrible. With that thought he glances away, then looks up at the sky, taking in the remaining light before nodding again.

"She didn't leave so long ago... I'm sure I can weather a couple full moons. After all, I've learned a lot of tricks since starting out. This is no amateur skeleton turnskin you're looking at, here."

One of the (many) aspects of daily life in Aefenglom that Stiles has yet to adjust to is the fashion. God does he hate the fashion. A recent visit to local clothing stores had resulted in his first imbibition of alcohol in a long time; he’d needed the pick-me-up after browsing row after row of hideous Victorian-era garments. Though he’s since decided to commission customized pieces better suited to his tastes, Stiles knows it would be useful to learn how to alter clothing himself – which is how he ends up at Sweet Chimera, in attendance to an unofficial class taught by…a furry skeleton. Somehow, Papyrus’ appearance is easier to deal with after having met Louis the bipedal, talking deer and Alyphs the little dinosaur woman. Somehow.

“Hey,” he says to Papyrus when the skeleton gives the class time to brainstorm ideas for embroidery. “I like the new fashion movement you’re starting. Do you have your own business?”

As Papyrus roams around the class, offering an easily accessible ear to listen to anyone's brainstorming or questions, it's simple enough to catch him. He tilts his head at the question.

"My own business...?" What a thought that is. A pretty wonderful one, if he's honest with himself. "No, not a fashion business! Tragically. I'm just starting this project... I don't have enough wares for a real shop."

That, and he'd worry what would happen to it, should the mirrors - or whatever else is responsible for drawing the Mirrorbound here - change their mind about him. Better to teach people to make their own cool fashion, so they can do it regardless of his presence! (Though, of course, what they make will surely be cooler with his inspiration around.)

Stiles twirls a pair of scissors around in his hand (and succeeds in whacking the tip of an ear with them on accident, ouch). So, this is a new venture?

“Aw, that’s too bad. It’d be easier to buy some of these off you than try to make my own.”

As if to demonstrate why, he gestures to his workstation. Stiles has all but butchered his shirts trying to imitate what Papyrus has taught them. The cuts he’s made are uneven, with the fabric fraying at the edges from clumsy handling. It hasn’t been on purpose; he has difficulty focusing, which doesn’t translate well to work like this.

Papyrus' own ears flick back when he sees that whack, but as Stiles doesn't seem to be hurting from it, he just nods sympathetically and leans down to examine the rough cuts.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. The speed and convenience of shopping... Avoiding the disappointment of mistakes...! Feelings that haunt everyone learning a new skill, even me."

Just ask him about his early cooking lessons. And the sleepover that first time he and Undyne burnt her house down. Fond memories, though they feel so long ago now.

"But, don't compare your efforts to mine! I've been altering my clothes for years. I had to walk through the spikes of puzzles before I could leap over them."

In example, he grabs the hem of his current shirt and folds it a couple inches inside out, to better show what the inside of the shirt looks like. It isn't as uneven and visibly fraying as Stiles' work, but it's not nearly as even as something bought in most stores. A fair amount of thread has been looped on the fabric's end, over and over, to prevent it from fraying. What mistakes were made in the process have been carefully hidden, or exaggerated to a point that they seem intentional - like the whimsical arrangement of the letters on his shirt.

Unbidden, a small smile begins to curl the corners of his mouth. Though they’ve only just met, Papyrus seems like a good guy; not many people would be so willing to discuss their own shortcomings and difficulties with a stranger. Stiles examines the inside of the shirt, noticing with amusement how any error in stitching was woven into the overall story of the garment. It’s almost a metaphor for life, in a way. Regardless, it does help to instill some level of confidence in him for his own shirt customizations.

“Duly noted, dude. But, uh, what was that about spiky puzzle? I feel like you lost me a bit in analogies there.”

"Huh? Lost you...?" Papyrus tilts his head, briefly puzzled by the question. "Oh. Right, there's no spikes here. And your world probably doesn't have them..."

It had made perfect sense to him, just a simple, relatable anecdote about deadly spike puzzles. Life experience anybody might have, especially if they were from... around the Ruins, or Snowdin. Underground.

He shakes his head at himself this time, briefly. Not in a hard on himself way, of course, that wouldn't help anything or anyone! But he spares a few seconds feeling silly. It's been months and months since he's even seen a puzzle. Making this clothes to feel more at home is working more effectively than he ever expected it to.

"Cultural differences, huh? I just meant, sometimes you do things the hard way, before you learn to do them the easy way."

Don’t worry, Papyprus. There’s surely someone else in Aefenglom not from the Underground who would share your enthusiasm for deadly spike puzzles. You’ll find your deadly spike puzzle soulmate one day.

“Oh, yeah. I getcha, dude.” Admittedly, Stiles would much rather learn the shortcut and do things the easy way always, but… “Got any ideas for what my shirt should say? I need to get the creative juices flowing.”

Creativity isn’t really the issue; he simply doesn’t have many positive things to say about himself. The idea of brandishing a self-made shirt that says something clearly unironic is…well, he’s cringing just thinking about it.

Honestly, half the appeal of deadly spike puzzles is in catering to tradition. Here, there's no need, except for the lonely nostalgia of them. He's replacing that energy as best he can with joining in the monthly festivals... And designing clothing. A spiked leather jacket might do the trick. One with flame patterns around the base. He has the designs in mind already.

"Need a kickstart, huh? You've come to the right skeleton! I like to start with the basics: announcing my greatness as emphatically as possible."

He gestures at the aforementioned UTTERLY RAD shirt he's currently wearing. Its irony levels are... ambiguous, given Papyrus' high-volume encouragements.

"My best work yet was a jersey I adjusted. Once, it was a bland, nothing nobody, reading only 00... And I framed it with letters, to make it spell: C00L DuDE. What an improvement, right?!"

That one, though, was plainly unironic. Or extremely ironic. Either way, it was a little symbolic for him, given his history of friend shortages.

“Huge improvement,” he replies, helpless but to smile.

There’s something about this guy that reminds Stiles of Tom Hanks in Big. Surely the world would be a little bit brighter if everyone could channel their inner child the way that this furred skeleton Monster does – with guileless, sincere enthusiasm. Mouth pursed, Stiles stares hard at his workstation and pleads for a burst of inspiration to strike him. His inner child…his inner child…

Suddenly, he can think of nothing but Peter Pan. An idea finally comes to him, though it has less to do with announcing his own greatness and more to do with –

“Rufio! It’s perfect. Thanks for the help, dude!”

Yes. Stiles Stilinski is going to make a shirt with the name RUFIO on it. The hero they all deserve.

While his new student ponders the question, Papyrus takes a minute to turn in a circle, surveying the room for others in need of guidance. So far, mostly people are quietly adjusting things as he's demonstrated before... Taking to the needlework with a range of aptitudes, from natural to a little bit worse than Stiles' work. Thank goodness this won't be the only time he holds these classes.

At the exclamation, he turns back and grins brightly.

"You're welcome! I don't get it..."

Papyrus has, tragically, never been exposed to the hero Rufio... Mainly because of Hook being too much of a cinematic masterpiece for anyone to throw it away. Relying on human garbage for entertainment has restricted the underground monsters' exposure to great stories... But it's also rather strongly enforced the idea of cherishing trash.

"And I don't need to! It's for you."

Maybe that contradicts his attitude of straightforward things for other people to see and be encouraged by, but not really. His want of approval is a different thing, after all.

Papyrus’ approval is a precious thing to someone like Stiles, who quietly nurses a severe inferiority complex and tends to second-guess himself frequently. Beaming, he begins to prepare a new shirt for his planned masterpiece.

“Rufio is a legend,” he says absently, picking through supplies. “This is going to be great. Thanks, dude.”

Papyrus definitely doesn't know what any of that would feel like, having always been super cool, super popular, and never lacking for friends or self confidence. Capslocking and yelling about how great he is might drown out those sorts of feelings. But, mysteriously, he's quick to recognize it in others, and offer all the reassurances he imagines they could want for.

"Any time! If you're all set for the moment... I'm going to check how everyone else is doing," he says, lingering long enough that it's not an abrupt abandonment. "Let me know if you want more of my great advice."

“Will do, dude.”

With a crisp salute, Stiles waves off Papyrus so that the skeleton can tend to the rest of the class. Time to work his magic. A bright red t-shirt with the name “Rufio” is going to be exactly the kind of pick-me-up he needs in his life.

After vastly overestimating her wilderness survival skills last month, Alphys was looking for something easy, that she could possibly do while sitting down. Fortunately, egg-painting seems simple enough. She's trying to recreate some designs she saw in an anime one time when she notices Papyrus nearby.

"H-hey, those are pretty good!"

Papyrus startles, a little, in the middle of his photography. Well, that one's blurry, but he can retake it later! For now, he looks over at Alphys and offers a wave her way.

"Hey, thanks! You've never seen my artistic mastery before, have you?"

He forgets what she might know about him that he doesn't know she knows, what with being from slightly different universes or whatever it is. But whatever she knows, he's pretty sure she's never seen him craft painted wooden eggs before. Especially not ones that look like some familiar faces, if simplified for painting on this scale. In fact, is that yellow one a little familiar looking...?

"Yours are looking pretty good too!"

"Oh, these?" Alphys looks away bashfully. "I-it's nothing special! I just saw this show a long time ago about this girl who finds three magical spirits that hatch from eggs and give her special powers and-"

Fortunately, Papyrus doesn't have to sit through a long summary, because she drifts off when she spots the blue egg, sitting next to a yellow egg.

"Did... did you put those together on purpose...?"

"Huh?" Papyrus peers where she's looking. "Of course I did! You're... friends, aren't you?"

Slightly significant pause, there. He is maybe exaggerating a little. The last he heard, Undyne still hadn't worked up the courage to confess. But he knew she wanted to, and he hadn't stopped rooting for her happiness, even if they weren't hanging out much at all. He shrugs, casually, and offers more rationale.

"I mean, you were in my universe. And things are so similar, up to a point. I just assumed..."

That's still a ridiculous thing to say, out loud. Even if they're both in yet a third universe.

[Right this moment, members of the City Guard are rushing in atop the Bright Wall, convening on the Mirrorbound whose performance has gone anything but unnoticed. The turnskin skeleton recoils at the sight of them, less surprised by their presence than their fervor. The guards shout various instructions to cease, desist, and hold still - as the Mirrorbound are under arrest.

But hold that thought, we're jumping the gun a little. How did we get here, you wonder? That's not too complicated.

Ever since Mettaton came by to check on his favorite skeletal fan, and things went a little tense for a bit... Papyrus has been working hard to improve his mindset when reminders of that captivity come up. And he's been pursuing this important goal in exactly the way anyone could want to: attending Mettaton's performances whenever he hears about them!

Truly, the best of both worlds; seeing the robot perform again, while acclimating himself to the EX form and forming far better associations with someone with... those features. How could he stand to go on, not recognizing his favorite celebrity in times of trouble? Even mistaking that face for someone who meant him harm? He couldn't, that's what.

And all that was fine! Even the most recent performance, which was technically not theater, just Mettaton making a public scene for passersby to gawk at, was fine. The trouble began when they spoke after, and enthusiastic comments led to a live circuit of enthusiasm enabling greater ideas. Bigger, brighter ideas, pushing the lines of the law even further, until they had - in willful ignorance - leapt entirely beyond the law.

Now, we jump back. Night time, with the lights and the music, as the guards close in on the Mirrorbound. Papyrus tentatively raising his hands, his ears flattening back in dismay, as he glances sidelong at Mettaton to follow the robot's example.]

Uhhh... We're not! Resisting! I think?

Ohhh my... Some unexpected arrivals on set! I love it!!

[Really, the arrival of the City Guard's not too unexpected. The entire purpose, in Mettaton's sick and thrill-seeking mind, was to push the limits of acceptability within Aefenglom's legal system. The very moment Papyrus posed the brilliant suggestion of taking the Bright Wall itself by storm for stage, Mettaton knew he had to know if it could be tested in front of the judge. And he knew he had to just do it anyway, plain and simple. Instead of burying his nose in legal documents at the Parliament building for legal clauses regarding city limits, Mettaton thought, why not test it by just doing it??

Truly, back up. It brought Mettaton great joy to see Papyrus watching him after his earlier hang-ups regarding the skeleturnskin's inability to recognize his EX body during their captivity. Even though Mettaton's accustomed to being separated from his fans by degrees of electricity, cable, and television screens, it was heartening to see a monster in the crowd of humans and Monsters. Talking to him after his miniature performance was a joy that just kept giving, and the more they spoke, the more they fed off of each other's energy, the more Mettaton couldn't contain his want for his company.

It's either that performing with Frisk really gave him a significant appreciation for the company of others... or, in becoming a Puca, he finds more joy with another at his side. It's probably a fatal combination of both that leads him to feel thrice as unstoppable.

While his earlier stunts were not theater — dancing is okay, singing is okay, being witty is okay, simply being dazzling is okay — this? What he and Papyrus are doing, upon the Bright Wall in all of their splendid set-up? Is 100% theater: improvised, urgent, comedic, and romantic. These are all adjectives Mettaton would pick to describe what was going on. Mettaton was having an incredible time: anybody watching could tell, he absolutely exudes it. (Damn Pucas.)

So honestly, the City Guard is met with... some resistance. Their aim is to grab the Mirrobound, but Mettaton just strikes a sultry pose instead, leaning against the wall with his back curved, knee popped, and finger pressed tantalizingly to his lower lip.

god.]

You caught us... Yes, we collected quite the crowd, didn't we?? [The Guard is a bit... flustered??? Weirded out? Whatever Mettaton's doing, it's working.] And as harmless as we are, I understand! It's criminal. How devilishly handsome and talented two Monsters can be. Ohhh yes!! Totally unable to perform mind control magic... but controlling minds with our RAW APPEAL!!

[This is, apparently, his case. They're both getting arrested regardless.]

[The enthusiasm for company goes both ways, as it's also a turnskin thing and part of how Papyrus so easily jumped into these plans. Who would want to go back home to do unnecessary cleaning chores, when he could join a crowd and attend Mettaton's performances? Who would want to just mill about in a crowd, when he could not just hang out with a star, but perform with him??? Really, it was decided almost before they started talking.

Now, the mild resistance the guards meet is, maybe, a little less resistance than a certain sensual friction as Mettaton flirts with them more outrageously than Papyrus can remember ever seeing from the robot... and that flirtation energy meter was already topping out, from all the enabling and improv.

For his part, Papyrus moves forward and puts himself between the guards and Mettaton, an unconscious protective posture as he braces for whatever they're going to do.]

Yeah! No mind control involved!! So, it's okay! It's legal!

[Says the turnskin, who would, obviously, not have any mind control magic to speak of. That is not even slightly how the wording of the no-theater law goes, and also, that's not the biggest issue.

A couple of the guards, further back in the group and a little less under exposed to Mettaton's flirtations, say as much: Get off the Wall. Come with us. You are under arrest, do not resist, and other such sentiments. One of them, a bear-turnskin even larger than Papyrus, is the first to get ahold of his arm. He tenses up, growling the slightest bit with fear as the guard visibly draws out a... set of manacles? A bracelet? It's hard to say as the guards continue rushing forward, and everything is a chaos of movement.]

[Oh, the robotic Puca notices the protective edge, and his ears spring upright in his appreciation for it as he offers the Guard a more confident smile yet, pleased to have such a reaction on his behalf. He doesn't perceive this as any actual danger, of course. Unfortunately, he knows now that their fate is to be arrested if they say so, and oh, what a report he'll have for Amadeus...

Well, it is what it is. Even the flustered of the Guards close in on the android with similar bracelets, and Mettaton offers himself up.]

Ohhhhh, yesss! Arrest me! Do your worst, darlings... And make sure you bind me tightly, sweetheart.

[Uhhhhhh the guard with the bracelets is flustered again, but another presses onward and... roughly grabs Mettaton to put him in his place. He just bites his lip at this, like he's getting his way. That's how Mettaton treats such situations: he makes it seem like something of his own design. Bad.

But Papyrus's growl catches his attention. Mettaton turns to the Turnskin. When he speaks, it's not with as much of that seductiveness that he whips out at the guards, something simmered down into a self-assured easiness.]

Papyrus, darling, have no fear. We'll weather their little counter-act. It'll be a breeze to argue our case... in front of somebody who matters! Likely, the Coven. We're under arrest together.

[A reminder that they're partners in crime, tonight. He grins at him that charming smile he wants to be known for, even with the rabbit teeth he's grown over the months.]

[Papyrus' ear twists at Mettaton's voice, but his gaze is fixated on the bracelets. They're nothing like the manacles in the cell, and the guards look nothing like the Rathmores, but he shivers anyway. He's not actively trying to resist arrest, but he keeps reflexively tugging his arm to try getting it free.]

Rrrright, under arrest.

[His voice is still growling a little bit, but he starts to shake it off with literally shaking his head, and a glance up toward Mettaton. That smile, directed at him, makes a little more difference.]

For crimes. Not for... We're doing theater together!

[The guards are already impressed enough by Mettaton's shameless goading, but they have a little bit of being impressed to spare for Papyrus outright confessing. Most criminals don't have the gumption to just come out and say it like that.

Impressed or no, they spare no time in slapping the bracelet restraints on him, too. They're less manacles than the power-dampeners for keeping witches from using magic and monsters from accessing their inhuman strengths, the better to take them away safely.

With that, his tugging turns futile in the Turnskin guard's hands, not budging it in the slightest.]

Yes!!! And we're dazzling, wouldn't you agree??

[A double confession. They were doing the forbidden theater together, though the greater problem is that they were on the Wall... Not that either of them really understand what gravity that has. Mettaton is similarly cuffed, no matter how stupid and sexy he is. The Guard member who holds him seems to do so stilted, as though wearing his best poker face to disguise whatever the lascivious Puca makes him feel.

Mettaton hardly bothers to tug, preferring to be dragged around himself. For the drama of it. He smiles the entire time they're brought before the Coven.

Ultimately, it's a little late for the Coven to be making any sorts of punishment rulings for Mirrorbound miscreants. Nerissa is contacted; word somehow gets back that they're to be tossed in a... holding cell, which could hardly be called such, if the only point of comparison is the Rathmore's dungeon. Papyrus's capture zone is a better comparison, in how benign it is. It's, warm. (Not that that matters to Mettaton.) And has limited furniture in it. The Coven seems to want to treat their Mirrorbound nicely until proven guilty, especially since she's heard that the crime might be something like this, not murder or anything. It's kind of like one of the temporary rooms, but downgraded from that. It's not nice, and they're being forced to share it, but it's not stone floor and cold iron-wrought bars.

With the understanding that they'll face the music in the morning, Mettaton and Papyrus are left by the City Guard slamming the door behind them. They're still made to wear one of those bracelets to prevent them from doing anything funny, but such as it is. No Turnskin abilities, no Puca abilities. No fun allowed.

Mettaton hums a laugh.]

You really stuck with it, all the way until the end. Beautiful! I can only hope... that they'll soon change their mind, and lift this ban. Who knows?? [Mettaton smirks at Papyrus, not really seeming to care that they were totally just tossed into a cell for crimes.] We definitely made an impression!

[Ever optimistic, Mettaton would feel flattered if, say, the ban on theater were raised in the following month.]

[Papyrus is tenser than he means to be, through the arrest. Between the alarm at being at all manacled again, being hauled off somewhere... and under it all, the disbelief that he, of all people, committed a crime and actually got arrested for it! It's a lot.

But it's not so bad, when they're just brought to the Coven for it. Or put in a room that is, well... just a room. A little on the bare side, no special comforts to be had, but no special discomforts either. Even if the door is locked, and the window barred, they can sit and chat comfortably enough.]

We really did! Nobody lit anything on fire. Just a great show, for all to enjoy.

[He's triumphant on that count: take that, naysayers of Aefenglom. One terrible incident isn't a reflection on theater itself.]

Nyeh heh heh... Phew! I kind of wish I tried acting, instead of sentry-ing.

[They can both commit their very first crimes together... by being public menaces. Mettaton downplays the severity of it the whole way through, of course.

When Papyrus admits that he thinks he had a future in acting instead of sentry-ing, well... He would have to agree that his prospects felt better than, say, whatever-his-name-was who Mettaton hired to work his Burger Emporium. But at the same time, acting carries the same harsher angles that being part of the royal guard might, in Mettaton's eyes. ...Maybe not Underground, but he knows human show business has got to be brutal. That's showbiz. Papyrus is so sunny, and comes off as too kind, too innocent to be thrust into such a world...

Nonetheless, he hums, amused at the thought. It's not as though it's an actual thing that is happening, and he takes it with idle appreciation. All things considered, the fact that Papyrus was a sentry has him realizing that prior to arriving in Aefenglom, he never really knew his fellow monster beyond what acquaintanceship existing Underground at all brings.

Such as it is, being in the spotlight. People typically knew him way better than he knew them. The TV star reclines, stretching out his legs in a perfectly Mettaton-style bid for attention upon them. Or, he's just making himself comfortable.]

It takes daring. Being an actor. You have that, if anything I saw tonight's to rely on. I could almost see some of my energy in you! [A point he makes to refocus his eye upon Papyrus, flicking a wrist in the laziest shrug.] But who could be surprised? You DID watch my show... Right up until my finale, I'm sure.

[Who could miss that one? His favorite, if not because it was so dramatic and fresh and new. And, it had this body in it. ...Prior to all suggestion of Puca traits.]

[Papyrus brightens further at the praise - the comparison - and nods enthusiastically.]

Oh, of course! Your show's my favorite!

[Made by monsters, for monsters, with monsters. It's so much better to idolize a celebrity who really exists in the same world, than some unreachable human from media that might be decades old. Even if he'd had no real plans of actually interacting with the star, until they crossed paths in a dream. He'd bought plenty of MTT-Brand products, worn his share of MTT-fashion, and generally enjoyed admiring what he imagined Mettaton's life was like.

Which, come to think of it, might be different than he imagines. Papyrus hesitates, reconsidering. 'Finale'?]

I mean. I saw the big reveal, Threatening the human, facing off against them, switching to this body for an even more intense fight...

[Well, this body with no Puca traits. But plenty of suggestion, anyway. There's a reason the narrator of their world labels the action figures in Papyrus' room as sexy robots.]

And, uh. Maybe a couple episodes after that. Mostly reruns...

[It had been a season finale, at least, but he's pretty sure that Mettaton had continued making some content. Even if the more human-form hadn't taken off, popularity-wise, once Undyne's rule settled in place and began reshaping the underground.]

[It's true, Mettaton is always just incredibly sexy as far as the way he commands himself goes. He could be given the body of a roomba and he'd still try to find a way to make it sexy. It's in his soul.

And while he spends this moment nodding along to the recollection of his finale with a satisfied smirk, reliving the glory of that moment so potent that it caused him to corporealize, Papyrus ends with something that earns him pause. Pause, and rewind. Mettaton stares off, still smiling, his voice airy.]

A couple episodes after... Mostly reruns...

[... His eye widens. His smile drops, because he's confused and doesn't remember this! Mettaton knows well enough that some people are taken from different points in their timeline. He knows some people who know people from their future or their past. People who are alive when they should be dead. Geardagas is strange in that way. But to think that he had someone from his very own world like that... Is Papyrus from the future?!]

Wait! I don't remember shooting any more shows after the barrier was shattered. Papyrus, darling, could you be... From the future?? [He lights up and clasps his hands together, suddenly moving from his spot to settle down next to the Turnskin rather than having his own space to lounge sexily in.] Oh, you have to tell me all about the kinds of shows I shoot... on the Surface!! Reruns, too?!

[If he's from the future, if they play reruns... That means he was a hit! Right? Mettaton waits, plentifully invading Papyrus's personal space without regard. Everyone's space... is Mettaton's space to invade.]

[If rectangles can be sexy, anything can be. Just needs the right framing. Fitting lighting, plenty of glitter, that je ne sais quoi... If anyone can pull it off, it's Mettaton. And, in part because it's Mettaton, Papyrus doesn't quite recoil from the invasion of his personal space. His ears flick at it, but little more, mostly because he's too boggled by those questions to really pay the invasion his full attention.]

The... surface? [He shakes his head.] Wait, no. I'm not from the future! Alphys is.

[He remembers that part of his first interaction with her in this world clearly. That moment of mutual bafflement. Thank goodness he's since learned other people here have divergent histories too, and it's not just that either of them is deeply confused. It was a little worrying for a bit. Existentially so. Enough that he'd hesitated to reach out to them... besides giving them a few hot tips and tricks about dealing with life as Monster-monsters. He'd worried if maybe magic had done something to his memories, or... something.

Now, though, he's more confident in saying:]

I'm from... some other timeline. Or something. We never got to the surface... And the war's going harder than ever.

[Similarly boggled, Mettaton blinks. Another chance to echo him:]

Timeline... War.

[The idol's expression drops. It's not that Metttaton hasn't entertained timelines already, given the conversations he's had with some of the Mirrorbound during his stay. It's come up before, the base theory of it. (And whatever Mettaton managed to retain from his friend's ramblings upon it, particularly in the vein of alternate universes. Which, admittedly, could be spotty: sometimes Mettaton just wasn't listening...) But he has to stare long and hard at Papyrus to confirm that somebody from his very own world was victim to this divergence, and that the war was a thing.

They hadn't gone to the Surface. The war was going strong.]

What... about Frisk? The human? Did they ever show up? Didn't they... Surely, they talked to Asgore, and the barrier was broken, somehow...

[Not that anybody really understood what happened, but Frisk was definitely a catalyst for the ordeal. Everyone else just came to - Papyrus included - while Frisk remained unconscious. Did they even arrive? Surely a human could change it all, if anyone.]

[Papyrus' ears twist back, reflecting his mixed feelings, and he scratches at the base of one of them.]

Just like that? Alphys said the same thing, but... That sounds so fantastical.

[Unlike half the more whimsical comments that Papyrus spins, on a regular basis. He sighs wistfully at the thought of it anyway, a world where the barrier just broke as easily as the human talking to Asgore like he'd advised...

Really, it's a little validating that he was right and it could have worked, had things been a little different in some difficult to pin down way.]

The human did show up... And they went to talk to Asgore! But, um. Asgore never showed up again, after that. And... neither did a few other people... So in the end, Undyne took over.

[It wasn't all bad. People had clamored for her to do so, spurring her own to overthrowing Toriel's brief return. A short-lived revolution, especially short since the ex-queen willingly abdicated and returned upon learning why the grieving monsters weren't enthusiastic for her plans of renewed friendship with the surface. She was happier in the Ruins with the skeletons for company, and many other monsters were happier with the hope of destroying humanity. It was fine.]

[It's almost chilling to hear Papyrus say that about Frisk, Asgore, and any number of other monsters. The Puca's ears flatten, thinking about a world with Asgore killed (because, let's face it: "never showed up again" is a good reason to believe he'd been turned to dust) and Undyne on the throne.

It's no wonder that under such circumstances, the efforts toward a war were stronger. He only takes solace in knowing that monsters couldn't possibly reach humanity from behind the barrier, though the fate of a fallen human wouldn't be kind.

There are a lot of things Mettaton thinks he can piece together about this whole scenario. After all, the Underground is his home — and he knows the nature of monsters. For as willing as they were to embrace the human, any ill intent on Frisk's part would warrant a response out of them. Moreover, he knows Undyne via Alphys, and her zeal for human-killing prior to Frisk was impressive. No doubt she rallied up some kind of fervor, at least to keep hopes alive.

That leaves an important question for Mettaton.]

What happened to me? Did...

[He had that brand new body and everything... He has a bad feeling about that and whatever viewership he could rally from their population.]

Is that why you're so unfamiliar with this body? Didn't monsters still watch my show??

[All of the most important concerns!]

[If there's anything in this conversation that Papyrus can quickly follow and easily get on board with, it's the ellipses-filled pauses in which people avoid talking about death.]

Oh my god!? No, nothing like that. You were fine!

[Ellipsis. Pause. Unlike some others.]

Still making your show. Trying out, uh, different directions...

And, I hadn't been watching much TV. The reception in the Ruins is terrible.

[And given the tone that much monster programming had taken on, he hadn't been in much rush to address it. Books and games were entertainment enough, for the most part.]

[Surprisingly, Mettaton wouldn't assume he was dead. His pause was for fear of his ratings! His content! But the fact that he had to try out different directions... That's what he feared. He frames his chin with a thumb and forefinger.

And here, he really thinks about it. Papyrus moving out to the Ruins of all places, Mettaton being forced to restructure his programming — what was the state of things, if Undyne had taken over? He wonders what Alphys got herself up to. Was she involved in Undyne's rule? Surely. He just about assumes it.

Mettaton sighs.]

I can only scarcely imagine. What a cataclysmic outcome. I'm sorry you've had such a terrible twist of events...

[Because Mettaton views his set of events to be the correct one, and Papyrus is just living in a Mettaton-deprived nightmare. ...And a highly militarized Underground where he's been forced into the Ruins while Asgore and any other miscellaneous number of monsters have been killed, but! Deprivation of MTT-Brand content. How disturbing.

Nonetheless, Mettaton settles in his place next to Papyrus.]

I'm surprised. That the Ruins would be open for you move into. [He has to act like he's never been to the Ruins, but he's totally been to the Ruins.] How strange and unique! What brought you there, darling? Everyone knows only spiders live there...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

WHO YOU'RE MINT TO BE (open)

SHOPPING WHILE SKELETAL

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COOL CLOTHING

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Eggcellent

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Wildcard: Under Arrest for Theater Crimes

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I cannot believe I never knew the meaning of je ne sais quoi until now, this is groundbreaking

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undyne's reaction to mettaton eating grapes is all the foreshadowing he needs

indeed...