[open] december catch-all

[glitzandglamour]

Who: Mettaton (metalcrusher/glitzandglamour) and YOU
When: Deceuer
Where: Throughout Aefenglom, and perhaps even at your doorstep. . .? In your bed??
What: Some winter event prompts, as well as some full moon prompts
Warnings: A touch of body disfiguration, constantly. A lot of prompts, and even more Mettaton.

1. Snow Way Out (12/6 - 12/10)

Lending a Hand

1A. → Aristocratic District

[Pathways are cleared in a portion of the district, with someone clearly hard at work. And if the rich folks themselves are too reluctant to set foot outdoors, who better to curry their favor than one enterprising robot who can't feel the cold?

But as he worked, Mettaton became distracted by the snow he began piling up in a blank space aside from the buildings. Snow, as he discovered, is very satisfying to dig. With his sore-ridden ears tied and hidden by a burgundy velvet scarf wrapped into something reminiscent of a pin-up's, Mettaton stands in front of an impressive pile of snow, compacted and constructed into what could only be described as... a fashionable snow-burrow, complete with ornamentation and even a sign sculpted atop its entrance: MTT, it reads in curly script. An absolute mad man.

The robotic Puca turns, his gloved fists planted on the closest approximation of his hips while he gestures to his sculpted home.]

I SEE YOU'RE ADMIRING MY HANDIWORK. NOT THAT I COULD BLAME YOU. THIS WOULDN'T BE THE FIRST PROPERTY I'VE OWNED... "OWNED," HA-HA. OR DESIGNED! SO NATURALLY, I HAVE AN EYE FOR PRIME REAL ESTATE.

[He pauses; his screen flashes a dim red.]

THIS... IS ONLY A REPLICA OF THE VISION I HAVE! YES. [Back to the letter M with his display.] ACTUALLY. IF YOU ARE ALSO IN THE BUSINESS OF CLEARING SNOW... WOULD YOU BE A DEAR AND BRING IT MY WAY? I HAVE PLENTY OF OTHER IDEAS TO FLESH OUT... AND I HAVE TO ADMIT. IT'S ODDLY SATISFYING, DIGGING THROUGH SNOW. YOU MUST AGREE WITH ME.

1B. → Refugee District

WAIT!!

[Lots of the Mirrorbound are hard at work in the Refugee Districts, clearing up debris, snow, and situations more dire than that in the posh Aristocratic District. If anywhere needs the attention, it's here, what with collapsing buildings, fallen snowdrifts, and frigid conditions. Perhaps you were also lending a hand at doing some good, all the way up until this odd rectangular robot grabs your shoulder with an extended arm.]

DON'T LOOK SO SHOCKED, DARLING! SURELY YOU NOTICED MY PRESENCE BEFORE I EVEN SPOKE... NOW. [He withdraws his hand and folds his fingers together, giving off the impression of tenseness.] LISTEN CAREFULLY. WHATEVER YOU WERE GOING TO DO? ...DON'T!!

[That's cryptic.]

Warm Company

1C. → Dormitories (...or your character's very own bed????? I won't stop you, as long as the locks won't stop Mettaton.)

[Finally, somewhere marginally warmer than the rest of Aefenglom. The room is dark, the fireside crackling, and the bed is so inviting. A bit lumpier than it looked before, but inviting nonetheless.

That is, until you approach and realize that there is somebody underneath the plush sheets. He shifts; props himself up on his arm. His heavy-lidded eye, a striking gold, beckons without words while he offers a charming smile from across the pillow. He's keeping it warm. ｏｈ ｙｅｓ...]

Oh... Lonely, on a night like this? Or is this purely a chance meeting? [Either way, Mettaton... pats the bed. Invitingly.] Well. There's plenty of room for you, too. I don't mind! You're so lucky tonight, chancing upon me in this bed.

[∗ It's cold. Mettaton is made of metal.]

2. Full Moon (12/12)

2A. → Entertainment District

[Full moons have been a disturbing affair at best. Mettaton knows by now to tuck himself away for the night to prevent an audience from catching sight of him in unseemly ways, especially as he fancies himself an up-and-coming star. On the evening of the 12th, MTT slips into a stagnate, unoccupied theater — a usual destination for him on these nights, and one that has yielded ample privacy to him so far.

In an attempt to distract himself, Mettaton sings lines into the still air of the theater. They're lines he can recite on automatic, lines to a musical he knows by heart — one of the many from the Surface that he's watched over and over, a distant memory sitting in front a pink television set. They're lines he used to sing to, in fact. And when he closes his eyes, he can almost hear the sound of his cousin's remastered tracks they made to go with a voice so haunting that it was unmistakably that of a ghost's. His voice is the biggest difference, he thinks, replaced by a tune strong and resonant in the dingy theater.

When a shock of pain courses through his legs and up his back, that note carried on his voice doesn't even falter. It's so unlike anything he's experienced so far, and it rattles him enough to bring him down to his knees. Eye squeezed shut, Mettaton grips onto his head crushing with pain. His legs... Dread overcomes him. Why would his legs be hurting so badly?

But he knows the answer. When Mettaton tries to stand, he finds that he can't. The toe of his boot doesn't click against the smooth surface of the dusty stage but instead, the drag of claws. The robotic idol lets himself fall to his hip and swings his legs out before him, his eye fluttering open. Instead of noticing that he has company, he fixates on his pink heels that erupt with raw tissue and inky black fur. Fur, claws, paws. Sores, welts, and oozing blisters. It's all of the works he's been dealing with, but the way the very structure of his leg appears to be distorting...]

They're—

[His voice hitches, and he spots the faint figure of unexpected company. His eye widens.]

...What? Oh, these? ... They can be replaced, my legs. Not a problem!! [He tries to smile from his place on stage, his incisors long and pronounced. His ears hidden in the fashionable black scarf tied around his crown. His claws buried underneath matching black gloves.] There are perks to having a custom-built body! It's not a big deal for someone like me. Nothing I haven't dealt with before!

[Having his body change so much, he thinks, but he means explicitly the damage and subsequent repair of his metal body.]

Don't worry about me, darling. And... what brings you here?

2B. → Entertainment District

Yoo-hoo! Yes, you. Come here.

[This command is difficult to ignore, carried on such a loud voice. It's much later into the night. Taking his first night outside of the theater, those without night vision can see the white of his smile and the faint glow from his heart-shaped core, but little else. Mettaton curls a finger.]

Yes, you'll do. Listen. I'm in the mood for a bit of fun. Anything to distract us all from the full moon, am I right??

[In that moment, Mettaton changes shape — into the mirror image of the person standing before him. With a sweet smile, MTT cups his own cheeks — the face of the person standing before him, actually.]

Fabulous! It's not fabulous like me, but... You know what I mean. Now. Rrrready to play??

[(A Yes or No prompt was not provided.) ...But he waits for a response all the same.]

[WOW GOOD THING I DIDN'T GET ANY BITES ON THIS I TOTALLY MISUNDERSTOOD SHAPESHIFTING]

3. Modranicht (& Modranicht Accessories) (12/17 - 12/23)

Caroling

3A. → Your Front Door.

[This is the prompt you choose if you want Christmas I mean Modranicht carolers. Ha, you thought that slight rap on your door was a small child? It's not. In this case, it's Mettaton, the sexiest rectangle in Aefenglom.

He's wearing a santa hat.]

OOOOH YESSSS! GOOD EVENING, BEAUTIFUL. IT'S ME, METTATON!! I HAVE COME TO DELIVER UNTO YOU GOOD TIDINGS, AND THE DELECTABLE TONES OF MY DEEP AND MELODIOUS VOICE! 'TIS THE SEASON, AND ALL THAT! THE OPPORTUNITY FOR A LIVE PERFORMANCE BY MOI, FROM THE COMFORT OF YOUR OWN HOME... IS IT NOT THE SECOND BEST THING TO TV??

[Yes, this is your chance to try to slam the door on him. Try.]

3B. → Your Front Door.

[This is the prompt you choose if you want Christmas I mean Modranicht carolers. Ha, you thought that slight rap on your door was a small child? It's not. In this case, it's Mettaton, the sexiest ... in Aefenglom. Just the sexiest.

He's wearing a santa hat.]

Ooooh yessss! Good evening, beautiful. It's me, Mettaton!! I have come to deliver unto you good tidings, and the delectable tones of my smooth and delicious voice! 'Tis the season, and all that! The opportunity for a live performance by moi, from the comfort of your own home... Is it not the second best thing to TV??

[This is the same prompt as before, but with a different version of Mettaton. How observant. It just smacks a different way.]

Kiss-tletoe

3C. OH, I AM DOOMED TO AN ETERNITY OF WAITING. WAITING FOR A WORTHY HERO TO LIBERATE ME WITH A SMALL ACT OF AFFECTION.

[Yeah, he's out here doing this. Mettaton presses the back of his velvet-gloved hand to the approximation of his forehead, his screen a perpetual red.]

IT'S NOT FAIR TO ENTRAP ME IN AN AREA OF SUCH SECLUSION, KNOWING THAT IF I WERE IN A BUSTLING CROWD... EVERYONE WOULD BE FIGHTING FOR THE CHANCE TO KISS MY GLISTENING SURFACE! OH MY! THE DASTARDLY AMBITIONS OF INANIMATE ENCHANTED SPRIGS OF MISTLETOE. THEY DO SEE FIT TO STOP ME IN MY TRACKS, AND FOR WHAT CAUSE?? SURELY, I MUST BE SAVED. I MUST BE!

BUT WHO IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO APPROACH SOMEONE WITH MY RADIANCE? SOMEONE BOLD ENOUGH TO SEE PAST MY ELEGANCE... ENOUGH TO NOTICE THE INVISIBLE VINES THAT BIND ME TO MY SPOT. COULD IT BE...

[At this, Hotland's star clasps together his hands and displays a red heart against a yellow backdrop as he turns to his newfound company. Pressure's on, and expectation hangs heavy in the air.]

...YOU?

3D. [Even if dodging mistletoe plants is your forte, it seems one has gone miraculously unnoticed — and just as Mettaton passes, too. The sly, mischievous glint in his eye betrays anything but surprise, though he makes a show of it anyway.]

Oh... So. There's mistletoe above us, isn't there.

[Said more like a statement, less like a question. His arm retracts (from wherever; what was he doing?), and his fingertips land against his jawline.]

But really. There's no rush, darling! Why not get to know each other a little better first? Unless... Your idea of getting to know me is by kissing me.

Eat, Drink, Be Merry

3E. [Everybody who knows me knows that Mettaton Eating Seductively Despite The Fact That He Doesn't Have A Mouth is my favorite kind of prompt, so that's what this is.

Robots, unable to eat?? Shut up. If there's a will, there's a way, and Mettaton has both of those things. Propped up on a tabletop he's cleared for his hunk of a body, Mettaton reclines next to plates of food as he hand-feeds himself with such poise and deliberation that it's sure to turn heads. And if it doesn't turn heads because of his charisma, it turns heads because it's an electric box "feeding" himself a dainty tea sandwich. (Naturally, all of the food he's selected are aesthetically pleasing.)

When he notices he's being watched by a fellow Mirrorbound, Mettaton gestures toward the plate. ...Like a magic trick, the tea sandwich he was holding has disappeared somehow.]

I SEE YOU'RE EYEING ME. DO YOU FIND ME ENTICING...? OR ARE YOU JUST FANCYING MY TASTY TREATS?

[The plate. Mettaton. Which is more uhhhhhhh enticing?]

3F. [what the fuck are those

Whatever they are, they're glittery. Food shouldn't be glittery. They look like they've been absolutely bedazzled on a cellular level, and with their absurdity and light-reflecting qualities, they absolutely steal the show. In reality, they probably imbue awe and fear into party-goers.

Mettaton sidles up.]

So? What catches your eye among this spread? I'm all ears for areas of intrigue. Or should I make a guess...?

0. Other

Feel free to get in touch if you'd like me to write up a custom prompt, or reply on the CR meme!

Comments

3C

[omnicrafter]

[Not the hero Mettaton wants, but the hero he deserves. Or something.

Irhya has stood there, in the cold, listening to the entire melodramatic spiel with a deadpan expression. Is that... a machine?]

I'm afraid you're overlooking one very important point in all this.

[metalcrusher]

[He will take anybody and make them the hero he wants. He hopes.

Mettaton's display puzzles through yellow and red in a random assortment, though he leaves his hands clasped together in eager wait. Aside from the alteration in that display of his, he's otherwise still as a statue.]

ONE VERY IMPORTANT THING. AND WHAT WOULD THAT BE? DON'T KEEP ME WAITING ANY LONGER!

[omnicrafter]

Any idiot who tries to kiss you is going to stick to you in this cold.

[Also, she has no idea where to kiss, but that's besides the point. Does it count as a kiss on the cheek if she does it on a corner of the box?]

[metalcrusher]

MY MY. TO LIKEN THE EXPERIENCE OF KISSING MY HOT METAL BODY... TO THE TANTALIZING MISTAKE OF LICKING A FROSTY POLE? I CAN'T SAY YOU'RE OFF THE MARK, DARLING. THE TEMPTATION TO LICK ME, AND THE SUBSEQUENT INABILITY TO LEAVE ME... YES, I DO HAVE THAT EFFECT ON PEOPLE.

[Only Mettaton is capable of translating "like licking a frozen metal pole" into a compliment. He offers Irhya a heart.]

LOW HANGING FRUIT ASIDE... DO YOU THINK I GENERATE ABSOLUTELY NO HEAT IN THIS BODY OF MINE?? I WILL BE COLD, BUT NOT ENOUGH TO STICK TO!

[He thinks. He still hasn't quite developed a sense for temperature, even with his developments as a Monster.]

[omnicrafter]

Oh.

[The only intelligent comment she has for that. A robot with an overinflated sense of self-confidence... what a novelty. Even Omega wasn't that thirsty. Even if it was pretty attractive in male and female form...

Well. Maybe scratch that last part.]

Artificial heat...? Give me a good reason I should want to find out, then.

[To be honest, she's considering it for the sake of saying she did, but playing coy with him seems the more interesting course of action to take.]

[metalcrusher]

TO FREE ME, OF COURSE!! I WENT THROUGH ALL OF THE TROUBLE TO SPELL OUT THE TRAGEDY OF MY ETERNAL WAIT, AND YOU STILL DEMAND A REASON BETTER THAN THAT?

[He puts on a show of looking gravely hurt, the heart dissolving into a dim, grey screen as he clutches his fist before the dials on the front of his body. Mettaton quickly recovers from these theatrics, and raises a finger.]

MY SURFACE TEMPERATURE IS HARDLY OBJECTIONABLE. IT'S SIMPLE THERMODYNAMICS, DARLING! YOU RUN ON ENERGY, AND PRODUCE HEAT. I, TOO, RUN ON ENERGY, AND PRODUCE HEAT... THOUGH NOT NEARLY AS MUCH AS A CREATURE WITH BLOOD AND SKIN, SUCH AS YOURSELF. IN OTHER WORDS, THERE IS NOTHING TO DISCOVER... UNLESS YOU FEAR THE DISCOVERY OF ADORATION FOR SUCH A LOVABLE ROBOTIC STAR, HA HA.

[omnicrafter]

[There's a smirk on her face this time, one quickly growing into a grin. Gods, but robotics aside, he reminds her a bit of a certain someone... a certain inspector, perhaps...]

What can I say? I'm a very demanding person.

[A shrug, still with the grin. Apparently she's getting a lot of amusement out of his answer.]

Luckily for you, I'm probably not much warmer, so I suppose you could have done worse.

[And so she approaches, uttering a coarse whisper from out of his range of sight before actually doing the deed.]

Hold still. I'm going to be really pissed if you jerk suddenly and split my lip open with those sharp edges of yours.

[That said, she places a hand on top of the box, pats it with a dull, metallic echoing sound, then kisses the same spot.]

3A

[unholey]

[They don't get a lot of company. This is mostly because of Maria's screaming turnips, which howl at anyone who they haven't been introduced to. Rumors about Kaede don't help. Neither do the gargoyles, although Fugo has personally gotten weirdly fond of their craggy, rain-worn faces. The point is: whenever someone brave enough (or stubborn enough) to make it to their front door to knock on it, it's usually for a pretty good reason. It's usually worth it to answer, if only to shush the turnips.]

[Usually. Today... is giving him all the more reason to squeeze in scrying magic into his already packed schedule. From the skeptical expression on Fugo's face, it should be obvious that he's debating just closing the door. It's cold out, okay, and his patience is limited at best.]

Not... really. [What is going on here. Is this-- caroling? A one... rectangle... chorus? What? What?] Are you trying to sell something?

[Ugh, he really should have put his coat on. Fugo sidles one arm out to tap a sign on the door which reads, in an intentionally ominous and ink-splattered script, NO SOLICITORS.]

[metalcrusher]

LUCKY FOR YOU, THERE WILL BE NO MONETARY EXCHANGE NECESSARY TO ENJOY MY THEATRICS.

[What a philanthropist. Mettaton waves his hand at the sign Fugo's pointing at, and his screen even displays an X across its yellow surface in red.]

A CAROLER WOULD NEVER ASK FOR COMPENSATION... EVEN ONE AS GOOD-LOOKING AS ME! THAT'S JUST A BONUS. HAVE YOU NEVER EXPERIENCED THE JOYS OF HAVING SOMEONE SERENADE YOU WITH HOLIDAY CHEER, DARLING?

[unholey]

Yeah, yeah, I'm familiar. [That's one tradition that's impossible to miss in Naples, given how intense the region is about Christmastime.] You're missing the bagpipes, but I'm sure I'll survive.

[He leans against the doorframe, arms folded... to be honest, mostly because it's cold and his sweater isn't doing much to keep the chill off. Let's say it's 75% because he's cold, 25% teenage petulance.]

[metalcrusher]

...BAGPIPES. FIRST "CHRISTIANS," AND NOW BAGPIPES. I'VE NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT AS PARTICULARLY... CHRISTMAS-Y.

[Humans have such different ideas about the winter holidays. The movies never showed Christians and bagpipes! He can't help but find it fascinating.]

WELL. YOU'LL HAVE TO FORGIVE ME. I COULDN'T OPERATE ONE EVEN IF IT WERE MY DEEPEST DESIRE TO BE A PIPER. I HAVE NO LUNGS! THOUGH I'M CERTAIN ITS VOLUME IS QUITE EFFECTIVE IN BRINGING THE PEOPLE OUTDOORS, HA HA.

[Fugo's body language doesn't go unnoticed by Mettaton, who is a cold, metal being without a shred of understanding for things like "temperature." (He's the same robot who lost an arm before realizing he was overheating, after all.) That doesn't mean he doesn't understand it in theory. He quickly wheels forward and makes a sort of pushing motion, ushering Fugo inside of his own house.]

BUT WHY DON'T I BREAK THE MOLD A LITTLE AND BRING MY PERFORMANCE... INDOORS?! A SPLENDID IDEA, CONSIDERING YOU AREN'T EVEN DRESSED FOR THE WEATHER! HOW CAN YOU ENJOY MY COMPANY IF YOU'RE BUSY BEING COLD?? [Mettaton is definitely inviting himself inside, pushing Fugo along.] NOT TO MENTION YOUR HEATING BILL, ASSUMING YOU'RE USING THE LATEST IN MAGITECH!

[unholey]

[Fugo opens his mouth, trying at several points to interject. Perhaps it is to explain the connection between Christmas and Christians, or the tradition of the zampognari, or what caroling is all about. But he doesn't really get a chance to get a word in edgewise before the conversation... sweeps him back into his own house?! He is momentarily too startled by Mettaton's pushiness to object, stumbling backward into the foyer, although that doesn't last long.]

How about you don't? [He plants his feet on the ground, resisting being pushed around by a giant-- robot? This is a robot. A caroling, loudmouthed robot.] Look, you can't just barge into someone else's house uninvited! The only way you're going to mess up our heating bill is if your performance lasts for hours! And the whole point of caroling is that it's an outdoor performance!

[It's... ... it's not going to last for hours-- no, it can't. Nobody would go door-to-door to perform long sets of music. That's totally impractical and inefficient.]

[metalcrusher]

I JUST DID. I'M NOT KNOWN FOR BEING TERRIBLY CONVENTIONAL BY MY FANS!

[Fugo is treated to a heart on his screen as Mettaton downplays forcible entry like it's no big deal.]

AND WHILE I COULD SING FOR HOURS, I DON'T PLAN ON IT. BUT WITH CAROLING... COMES THE POSSIBILITY OF WARM COMPANY, DOESN'T IT? WHO KNOWS HOW LONG THAT COULD LAST! AND ABOVE ALL ELSE, I'M HERE TO PLEASE. IF I CAN REDUCE YOUR CHILLINESS BY COMING INSIDE, THEN I'LL DO JUST THAT! JUST FOR YOU, BEAUTIFUL. YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT YOU'D RATHER STAND IN YOUR DOORWAY, ENDURING THE ICY COLD.

1B

[inlikethebrume]

Hmm?

[It comes as a surprise but thankfully the person Mettaton does stop and doesn't proceed to freak out by ways of a shovel to the face. Or monitor? Magitek? Either way, the guy gets Mira's attention and she raises an eyebrow in question.]

What did you expect I would be doing wrong?

[metalcrusher]

[Each square on Mettaton's face flickers through colors as he processes his own thoughts, reaching a hand to rub at the fashionable, albeit misplaced scarf wrapped atop his rectangular frame.]

... ... "DOING WRONG." THAT, THERE, YOU HAVE INCORRECT. IT'S LESS "WRONG," AND MORE...

[Mettaton's bluffing fails him when he can't say he doesn't know what he expected, so he takes on a different approach. He tries to give off the impression of confidence in his feeling by raising a finger, the squares on his screen settling on a yellow-and-red arrangement of the letter M.]

JUST TELL ME WHAT YOUR NEXT ACTIONS WERE GOING TO BE!! THEN I CAN TELL YOU WHAT PART OF YOUR PLAN WAS A GRAVE MISTAKE!

[inlikethebrume]

[This magitek fellow is weird. And that's coming from a dark knight.]

I was going to simply shovel some snow to make a path.

[Since there was one nearby and people need a good walkway. Sounds fine enough?]

[metalcrusher]

WELL. THAT SOUNDS INNOCUOUS ENOUGH! SURELY A BIT OF SHOVELING COULDN'T BE SO BAD...

[Mettaton's screen tinges deep red, once again puzzled by his own disturbance but unable to shake the feeling that something's amiss. He rotates his body to fix his attention on the pathway ahead of them, absolutely lousy with snow and difficult to pass through. (Someone with a body like his would find it totally impassible, in fact.) Mettaton frames the lower corner of his body with a thumb and finger thoughtfully.]

BUT I SIMPLY CAN'T LET YOU GO SHOVELING THAT SNOW RIGHT NOW. DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY, DARLING! I'D LIKE FOR THAT PATH TO BE CLEAR JUST AS MUCH AS ANYBODY. BUT THERE ARE SOME THINGS MORE IMPORTANT THAN CONVENIENCE IN NAVIGATION... SUCH AS YOUR WELL-BEING.

CALL IT A "GUT FEELING," FROM A ROBOT TOTALLY LACKING IN SUCH ENTRAILS!

[inlikethebrume]

[...that makes no sense at all.]

Only a 'gut feeling' or do you have proof of this uncertainty?

[metalcrusher]

IF I HAD PROOF, I WOULDN'T HAVE CALLED IT A GUT FEELING. BUT IF I HAD TO GUESS...

[Some may doubt their feeling at this point, and even Mettaton doubts the validity of his intuition. But he holds stubbornly to enforcing his odd notion by, instead, focusing on the worst thing he can see down the pathway: a rooftop piled high with snow. He points to it, planting his other fist on his "hip."]

YES, THAT MUST BE THE DANGER YOU FACE! IF YOU WENT DOWN THAT PATH, YOU WOULD FALL VICTIM TO THAT SNOW DRIFT. AND WHO KNOWS! HOW LONG YOU WOULD BE TRAPPED UNDER ITS ICY WEIGHT!! HOW AWFUL! IS THAT PROOF ENOUGH FOR YOU?

[Even that doesn't seem right, but he'll take it. He doesn't see what else could be so dangerous — he only has a hunch, after all. He clasps his hands together in a pleading gesture.]

YOU WON'T REALLY ARGUE THIS ONE WITH A LOVELY ROBOT WHO IS ONLY LOOKING OUT FOR YOU, WILL YOU? OR ARE YOU SO DETERMINED TO SEE YOUR OWN ILL FATE FOR YOURSELF?

full moon-ish because this will end badly

[textsfromhotland]

[Suddenly, a shrill screech pierces the air.]

METTATONNNN!

[He may or may not have expected to find Alphys out here of all places, barefoot and wearing pajamas, running at him at full speed.

...Or at least, she was running at him at full speed before she slips on an icy patch and falls face first into the slush.]

oh no.

[glitzandglamour]

[He doesn't really expect anyone to be around these parts, at this time of night. He expects less to see Alphys in... such a good mood???

Especially while he's just trying to stand straight. (It feels like he's trying to get used to having legs all over again.) First it fills him with a jolt of excitement. Then, fear: fear of her seeing him in this way. He reassures himself and smooths himself over just in time to cast his gold eye her way, when... she falls.]

.....

[Mettaton stands there, propping himself upright on new, awkward legs against a building.]

Alphys... Yes, you found me. ...And you might've barreled me over, if it weren't for that ice, thank GOD. What's gotten into you??

[textsfromhotland]

[Alphys pulls her head free of the snow, and she's laughing. Just estatic, slightly unhinged cackling.]

Nothing's gotten into me! I feel fine! I feel better than I ever have, like, ever~! Oh my god, Mettaton, we should build a SNOWMAN!

[Something has definitely gotten into her.]

[glitzandglamour]

Ah. A case of moon madness. You've definitely got a screw loose, darling. And you're not even the robotic one!

[Come to think of it, Mettaton doesn't really know what Alphys is becoming... only that she's growing some pink fur. Did she ever tell him? (Did he ever ask?) Whatever she is, he knows he's never really looked into it. But she doesn't have rabbit ears atop her head like he does, so she must not be a Puca. (Thank goodness she's not a Puca. It would be so inconvenient if she were also allergic to iron, considering that Alphys is the one best equipped to work on his body.)

Mettaton barks a laugh. Irritable, he almost envies her carefree, unhinged state compared to his own, which is comprised of pain, awkwardness, and... something else. He kind of wants to taunt her, though. He's in that kind of mood.]

You must be over the moon about your changes as a Monster, if it means you get to bust out of your shell. [Mettaton rolls his eyes with a thin smile.] Give it a day or two, and you'll be back to locking yourself up in your room out of embarrassment!

[textsfromhotland]

[That just makes her laugh out loud again.]

Screw loose? Me? HAH! I already toooold you, I'm totally fine!

[There is, in actuality, a tiny voice in the back of her head that's bemoaning the frostbite she's giving herself right now as she kicks snow around with her bare feet, but that tiny voice is a huge downer and she doesn't want to listen.]

Maybe- maybe YOU'RE the one who's going crazy! Oh, OH! Have you noticed? I'm growing FUR! And it's PINK! I think I'm turning into a catgirl! Isn't that AWESOME?

[She makes a paw with one hand.] Y'know, like, nya?

[glitzandglamour]

[If Mettaton had any ability to care for her over himself in this moment, he might've thought about things like temperature, ice, and her feet. He doesn't, and he's very much thinking about himself.

And how agitated he's becoming, fast. The full moon is doing him no favors. The snow doesn't affect his newly furred feet, but his knees and thighs burn with corrosive contact. Listening to Alphys say "nya" gets Mettaton's smile to dissolve. (Why isn't his fur pink?? That's practically his brand!)]

No. You're not turning into a catgirl. Not "nya."

[He doesn't know that at all. He's just being petty. MTT scoops up a snowball and throws it at her halfheartedly.]

Alphys, can't you do something useful, like replace my legs and make them normal?? Instead of... whatever you're doing.