[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

[metalcrusher]

... THAT'S WHAT'S HOLDING YOU BACK?

[He drops his arms to his side, his screen flipping a neutral yellow while he considers Fugo's hang-up. Are there any of the Mirrorbound who haven't thought of the possibility of another simply disappearing back to their mirror? It hasn't happened to Mettaton, not personally, not with anyone close... But others post about it here and there through thinly-veiled sorrow. Has Fugo been burned by it already? Or does he simply see the potential, and wants to protect himself before it's too late?

The individual squares of his screen switch between yellow and red at random, and he crosses his arms.]

I FAIL TO UNDERSTAND WHAT PART OF THIS YIELDS "NO GOOD RESULT." DO YOU FEAR LOSING SOMEONE YOU'VE GROWN CLOSE TO, DARLING? BECAUSE OF THE TRANSIENCE OF OUR STAY... AND THE PAIN OF YOUR POTENTIAL LOSS?

[unholey]

[God, he's nosy. It's almost commendable, except for the part where Fugo is the one who's on the spot and has to field these questions. This Mettaton guy would probably make one hell of a reporter.]

My reasons are personal. We just met. I'm not going to spill my guts just to satisfy your curiosity.

[metalcrusher]

[He would love to hear it, since he'd fancy himself a reporter.

Mettaton throws his hands up in the air, his screen blinking red a few times.]

AH! AND YOU WONDER WHY YOU DON'T MAKE CLOSE CONNECTIONS! SINCE IT'S YOUR DESIGN, AT LEAST YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING. [He wheels up to Fugo with a finger pointed his way.] YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE I HAVE NO INVESTMENT IN YOUR HAPPINESS. WE MAY HAVE JUST MET... BUT PUTTING SUCH DISTANCE BETWEEN YOURSELF AND OTHERS CONCERNS ME, FUGO-DARLING.

[unholey]

[The longer Mettaton's lecture goes on, the deeper Fugo's frown gets. It's clear he's not pleased to be lectured; there's not even a flicker that he might believe what Mettaton is saying. In fact, when Mettaton wheels up to him, his back, shoulders, and jaw go very tense as he stands his ground. To keep his hands occupied Fugo folds his arms, posture tight and defensive, across his chest.]

Yeah, yeah. Are you done? As I mentioned before, I have work that I would like to get back to.

[metalcrusher]

[Mettaton pauses for a moment before he raises both of his hands to the front of his body, the way one might if they were clasping their palms over their mouth in shock.]

OH MY GOD. YOU ARE COMPLETELY UNMOVED. HOW GHASTLY. HAVE YOU TRULY BEEN HURT SO BADLY, BY THE LIKES OF FRIENDSHIP...? YOU MUST BE SO TERRIBLY ALONE.

[Wasn't he even hesitant to refer to someone as a friend before correcting himself, earlier on...? His remark, then, is in hopes of at least confirming that he's not. He must have friends.]

[unholey]

[Fugo rolls his eyes.]

Spare me the melodrama. Only someone incredibly gullible would fall for a line like that. You're obviously just fishing. [He gestures with his chin towards the door.] Don't you have other houses to spread your Santa Baby propaganda to?

[Wow. Now that's just mean. Don't be rude, Fugo.]

[metalcrusher]

PPPPFROPAGANDA. HAHAHAHA!

[Mettaton gets right back into being in good spirits, as if anything could get him down. He waves a hand at Fugo in an oh-you-shouldn't-have way, displaying a heart to his new companion.]

YOU'RE RIGHT! THERE'S SO MUCH SULTRY CHEER TO DISTRIBUTE... AND WHO KNOWS? I MAY HAVE ANOTHER FUGO IN MY FUTURE. SOMEONE WHO COULD USE A BIT OF ENERGETIC COMPANY TO LIVEN UP HIS... STUDIES. EVEN IF YOU REFUSE TO ADMIT YOU'RE LONELY, I'M PLEASED. KNOWING I GOT A GOOD LAUGH OUT OF YOU.

[Without asking, Mettaton pats Fugo's shoulder.]

I'LL LEAVE YOU TO YOUR COURSEWORK, BEAUTIFUL. AND LOOK FORWARD TO OUR NEXT OPPORTUNITY... TO DEEPEN OUR BOND, DESPITE OUR TEMPORAL AND SPACIAL INCONSISTENCIES.