middaeg | feb catch-all

Entry tags:

feb catch-all

Who: Mettaton & open!
When: Throughout Feoveuer
Where: Various
What: Mettaton, a robot, learns to live, laugh, and love......... No, he learns to sleep and taste, as a biological necessity. He takes full advantages of these mortal splendors by sleeping! in! beds!, and eating your Valentine's chocolate while asking you on the date you deserve. There's also a prompt to follow up on his pursuit for a cure to metal weakness. Plus some closed prompts! Feel free to get in touch via MTT's plotting comment if you'd like a custom prompt.
Warnings: usual MTT drama

1. Fact: Mettaton owns a bed. He's never needed it.

A. A Refrigerator Blocks The Way

[First of all, I deceived you. There's a prompt where Mettaton is sleeping... but not in a bed.

Mettaton has developed a peculiar new... ability. Truth be told, it was something he tapped into starting in Iuneril, when he found himself desperate for energy while in the Rathmore's dungeon and slipped into dreamland. He shouldn't have been able to last that entire stay in his EX body, exerting himself as he did! So how did he do it?

In any inappropriate area of your choosing, there is a big metal box. These inappropriate areas may include, but are not limited to...
the middle of the street in the Entertainment District,
blocking a doorway to the Coven,
or even in your front yard.
The metal box kind of looks like it could be a game machine, or some other kind of puzzle-deploying apparatus...? But it must be broken. Its screen is off. Closing in on it suggests further that it must be broken, for it's emitting some kind of repetitive noise...]

ZZZZZZZZ...

[This robot keeps saying "Z" out loud repeatedly, sincerely asleep. Move it with force?]

B. If You're All Alone...

[How incredible! Mettaton's realized it: he's truly able to sleep, just like people do. Most surprisingly, he hasn't needed to recharge in weeks, so sleeping has its obvious benefit.

This time, Mettaton EX sleeps with far more purpose, though he still does so in inappropriate places with more intent. The TV star sleeps in places where he can be noticed, as if drawing attention to the fact that look, he's asleep! Really! While I leave this to your decision, a few ideas include...
sleeping in a reclining position atop a desk,
invading your very own HOUSE and occupying your COUCH or your BED, my GOD,
or... cradled in the palms of a statue with its arms outstretched, in the center of an ornate fountain, like he's god's gift to mankind.
All I'm saying is that you really couldn't come up with a location too ridiculous for Mettaton to be sleeping in. He'll sleep atop a piano, or on a chandelier and tell you it's like he's in a music video! But no matter where he sleeps, he does so peacefully with a satisfied smile.

But he should definitely be stopped. He's a menace, he might break something with how heavy he is, and therefore he's a hazard.]

2. Fact: Mettaton enjoys feeding himself grapes seductively atop pianos.

[It's edging close to the 14^th, and though Aefenglom treats Valentine's Day like a foreign concept, many of the Mirrorbound still seem determined to uphold their own traditions. With the full moon having come and gone, Mettaton's discovered a surprising, unique new sensation that has him floored, and overwhelmed: taste.

There's so much in this city to try that it's dizzying. That Mettaton EX him rushing up to the next Mirrorbound he finds carrying food, be it chocolate, a croissant, or an indeterminate abomination of un-food. It doesn't matter. His golden eye is bright with curiosity, his smile brimming with excitement.]

Hey there, beautiful! I see you're indulging in the wonders of edible delights. Care to share... with me?? Ooh, what a fabulous opportunity for some intimacy, as Valentine's Day hovers so close by! Could it be... A date??

[A date where Mettaton eats your food, and rates it.]

3. Fact: Mettaton's GOing To Patent This Enchantment As MTT-Brand Metal Benadryl

I DON'T FEEL IT ANYMORE... THAT PERSISTENT BURN, THAT AGONIZING CORROSION. IT'S LIKE I'M A BRAND NEW ROBOT!!

[Mettaton carries with him two different things related to his latest appeal for help: spells pre-loaded onto thick slips of paper for any Monster weak against various metals, and the actual alchemical enchantment's instructions and requirements for the curious Witch. His screen blinks yellow and red with his brand new relief, and he spins around.

When he notices somebody nearby, he wheels up to them and...
if they appear to be a Witch, he will pull out the technical instructions on how to conduct the enchantment.
if they appear to be a Monster, particularly of a Puca, Vampire, Turnskin, or Fae persuasion, he'll pull out one of the slips of paper.]

DARLING! PERHAPS YOU'D BE INTERESTED IN THE LATEST IN ENCHANTMENTS. IF IT CAN WORK ON ME TO THIS DEGREE... I'M SEEING A PROMISING FUTURE FOR THIS BREAKTHROUGH SPELL!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Truth be told, the house doesn't have much sign that it's where Papyrus lives. It's a large, stuffy, formal sort of noble house, with a lot of lingering signs of Liliana having lived there. Now it's just Chandra, and only very recently Papyrus - since the rescue. And thanks to the fires, and the loss of many of his possessions, he just doesn't have the little knickknacks to start spreading around.

Still, he's left his mark in little ways already. The shared areas are cleaned and neatened to the skeleton's standards, a use of restless energy that anyone could appreciate. And the couch... Well. After his first night 'home' featured nightmares, and half-shifting, and wrecking the offered bedroom - like he used to wreck his own on full moons, before bonding with Chandra? Now he sticks to the equally stuffy, formal couch, in a common area that smells like friends and food and safety. This way all he's doing is shedding - and occasionally chewing the lacy black cushions in his sleep.

So when Papyrus returns, he's fresh from a little shopping trip. A couple ingredients for cooking tonight, but mostly: new cushions. A little apology for wrecking the others with sleep gnawing, even if Chandra had laughed and said she didn't like them anyway. This set's a mix of shades of orange, the better to hint at flames - and hide any hairs shed on it.

He puts the groceries away first, but it's only a moment or two later that he heads to the couch... and discovers his unexpected guest.]

Huh..? Mettaton?

[Briefly, he rubs at his eyesockets and looks again. No, the robot's really there. Seemingly without power, no signs of injury or forced entry or mysterious ransom notes.]

Are you okay??

[The sound of Papyrus's voice is enough to rouse Mettaton, who boots to life with a flicker of yellow and red on his monitor. His arms stop being so limp, and he makes a motion like stretching, though he certainly has no muscles to stretch in those dryer vent hoses he calls arms. Where was he again...?

Ah. Unfamiliar house. Papyrus. Papyrus... If there's anything odd about sleeping, it's the weird haze that lingers when one comes to.]

OKAY? I'M... [Hm. That doesn't like the response he wants to give. He tries again, pushing himself off of the couch with his hands and landing on the wheel he's just deployed.] OH YES! I'M BETTER THAN EVER, PAPYRUS-DARLING. BUT NEVER MIND THAT!

[He really is doing much better. From the healing, to the repairs, to the alchemical enchantment so many Mirrorbound helped him with the month before... If only he didn't have the mental burden of torture! But he's pretty good at ignoring that.]

I WANTED TO CHECK UP... ON YOU! LAST I SAW YOU, YOU WEREN'T... IN THE BEST SHAPE. [He presses his palm against the side of his body, like one might if they were nursing their head.] NONE OF US WERE. HAVE YOUR SILVER-INDUCED WOUNDS HEALED UP?

[If Papyrus is honest with himself, it's a little baffling to have Mettaton in his living room without warning, and especially so for the celebrity to be here to visit him. Or, more accurately, to check up on him? Out of concern??? It feels like there should be a camera crew around, somewhere. The better to film his reactions as he discovers the unconscious robot, realizes that Mettaton's responsive and okay, and slowly takes in his condition.

But it looks like Mettaton's telling the truth, or close to it. That familiar old rectangle looks clean and undamaged, with no signs of the torture everyone went through. And isn't that a sight for sore eyesockets.

(Though, he hadn't seen the rectangular form back then, had he...? Does damage to one even show in the other?)]

Oh yeah! Way better. There's only little scars left... [Papyrus indicates a wrist, gingerly gesturing around one of the lingering burns.] It doesn't hurt anymore.

[Mostly. It hurts to brush against too hard, and there's an ache sometimes, when the weather changes. But that's not something new and unheard of - even elderly fisherfolk mention feeling the weather in their bones. Nothing to worry about.]

And, I'm talking to an expert. Seeing what else can be done...

[(Good observation, Papyrus! His other body isn't as nice-looking, but at least he has Alphys.)]

HMM. [Mettaton examines the scar when Papyrus shows him, and his screen lights yellow with approval. If Papyrus says they don't hurt anymore, that's good news, though he knows from his own experience that these things don't heal so readily. Nonetheless, he claps his hands together.] WONDERFUL! IT BRINGS ME DEEP RELIEF, KNOWING THAT YOU'RE TAKING SUCH MEASURES... AND RECOVERING SO REMARKABLY.

[Of course, part of his visit is to be so well-presented. That's what a star does. As he moves, there's not a single indication that he's in any pain. Even his arms look pretty good, though the parts closest to his hands are wrapped in clean bandages. Tissue problems — they'd look worse if he didn't keep them covered.]

HEALING IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MATTER HERE, IN AEFENGLOM. BUT THEN, SUSTAINING INJURY IS, TOO. [When he thinks about it, they'd both probably be goners if they still followed the same rules of physicality. It's not such a great topic to mention, but it's too late. He emotes as if swiping sweat from his forehead.] IT'S A GOOD THING, THAT WE HAVE SO MANY KIND AND COMPETENT WITCHES TO LEND A HAND!

[Seeing Mettaton's apparent grace and ease, Papyrus feels almost slow to recover in comparison... He hasn't been pushing for as speedy recovery as he could, though he doesn't exactly have a person famous for his creation to turn to for repairs.

Still, he nods slowly as the robot talks, considering his fading but lingering injuries. He certainly has considered that. His bones feel so much more solid, in ways hard to pin down, and have for months... and for all the silver injuries are slow to heal, they were also the worst. He was hurt more by the silver, than anything the Rathmores did. And that seems backwards.]

Y-yeah, phew! It's different. I feel invincible, sometimes... But I'm glad there's healers. Silver injuries make things complicated...

[There's a second of delayed realization, that shows comically on his skull as he remembers not just who he's talking to, but the context there.]

And! Wow! I hate to imagine how things might be... If they hadn't figured out that ritual for you.

AH. YOU MEAN, THE ONE FOR MY METALLIC COMPOSITION, I ASSUME.

[He waves one of his wrists, planting his other hand against the approximation of his hip.]

IT'S A REMARKABLE RELIEF, YES! AND I HAVE YOU IN PART TO THANK FOR ITS DEVELOPMENT, DARLING.

[He emotes with a heart, his demonstration of appreciation genuine. It really was a big help to have many other Mirrobound working toward collecting the components, even if the latter part of the month was spent in captivity.

Now... Mettaton won't shy away from one of his other purposes in coming here. He folds his hands together, his screen dimming a step, though it remains settled on a heart — the feeling lingers, but perhaps it's intentional, to put Papyrus at ease.]

WE WILL HEAL, OVER TIME. WE ALL WILL. BUT I WANTED TO ASK YOU SOMETHING... DO YOU REMEMBER MUCH ABOUT OUR STAY TOGETHER, IN THAT CELL?

[Papyrus nods at first, as that's exactly the one he meant. It's validating as heck to be thanked for it so sincerely and personally, with heart emotes and everything... Almost enough to make up for the following question.]

Oh. T-The cell?

[Stammer aside, Papyrus doesn't tense up all at once. He stiffens at the reminder, looking at those folded hands and seeing how patient, how ready for something, Mettaton seems... Over something important enough to visit him in his home. Foreboding. Enough that Papyrus looks ever so slightly to Mettaton's side, as though not seeing would make him unseen.]

I think, I remember some of it. Bits and pieces. It all kind of blurs together... Did I s-say something?

[At least he can still see that heart emote, lingering like nothing is all that wrong.]

NO. YOU SAID REMARKABLY LITTLE, IN FACT. I'M HARDLY SURPRISED, THAT YOU DON'T REMEMBER MUCH.

[Another way to say that he was not at all in any good form. Mettaton's screen switches yellow, and he opens a hand toward Papyrus in regarding him.]

I DON'T FAULT YOU FOR YOUR BEHAVIOR, DARLING. IN CASE YOU DO FIND YOURSELF WITH GREATER RECOLLECTION OF OUR TIME... I SIMPLY WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT. BUT DON'T WORRY! YOU NEVER ONCE HURT ME. LET THAT EASE YOUR CONCERN.

[This conversation is doing a little bit the opposite of easing his concern. A little bit more like fanning it? At least Mettaton didn't turn all red and start flashing at him, that would be a dreadful sign.]

My... behavior...

[He remembers early in the captivity pretty well, with the confusion and trying to talk to their captors. Some of the middle regrettably vividly well, when they injured him in some mix of curiosity and pain for pain's sake. He remembers the last few hours. But in between?

Papyrus frowns, trying to make sense of the fragmented feelings and sensory impressions. Silver and pain. Metal and gore. Exhaustion. The claustrophobic feeling of danger right near him, in a space he couldn't escape...? He shivers.]

Uhh. Are you not-saying... I tried to hurt you? But, it wasn't anywhere near the full moon.

[Not like today is. In a few hours, even.]

HMM. HM HM HM. TRIED. THAT WOULD IMPLY IT WAS BY YOUR WILL. WHICH, IT WASN'T.

[He wags a finger, seeming to find the notion that he could be held to his actions in that dreadful place to be absurd. Mettaton raps his own body once with a palm.]

YOU KNOW ME, GORGEOUS! I'M A RUGGED ROBOT... WITH THE UNRELENTING STAMINA TO BACK IT UP! DESPITE IT ALL, I FARED WELL, YOU SEE? ... FULL MOON OR NOT... THAT PLACE WASN'T KIND ON EVEN THE BEST OF US. ALL YOU DID WAS GROWL AT ME A BIT. THAT'S ALL!

[He emotes with a heart, here, and clasps his hands together, wanting to turn this situation into something less depressing for Papyrus, who likely has had to endure so much.]

BUT AGAINST ALL ODDS, YOU SEEMED TO RECOGNIZE ME... AND CEASED! I WAS TOUCHED. FOR THAT, I WANTED TO THANK YOU.

[His frown deepens at the first reassurance, at the notion that whatever less-than-polite things he did in there weren't by his will. Not thinking of his shifted self as Papyrus is part of why it's been such a muddle of instincts every full moon. He's still struggling to accept some of them.

But, he doesn't want to disbelieve Mettaton. Especially not after the robot sought him out specifically to reassure him. Lingering anxiety and all, Papyrus' tail wags with each of the following reassurances, and even moreso when Mettaton thanks him. Mettaton! Thanking him! His cheekbones pinken while he's at it. Overall he's brightened up, much as Mettaton might have hoped by pouring on the confidence so freely.]

Just a bit of growling...? I do remember yelling a lot...

[And it stands to reason, doesn't it, that if he'd shifted during the worst of the experience... that some of his yelling hadn't been particularly verbal. Or aimed at the right targets.]

Phew! That's... What a relief. I hate growling at people. It's embarrassing. Like shedding, but with rude feelings. And to growl at you?? I can't imagine it.

[It's hard to believe there was even a delay in recognizing Mettaton... How could he hear this voice or see this face and growl, ever? But... still, there's something off. Something itching at the back of his mind, a half-formed memory that itches worse as he glances at Mettaton's hands.]

OH DO I SYMPATHIZE WITH THE UNINTENTIONAL BEHAVIORS, RESULTING AS A BYPRODUCT OF OUR TRANSFORMATIONS! BUT IT'S PERFECTLY ALL RIGHT, BEAUTIFUL. VIEWING IT AS A NEW AND EXCITING DIMENSION... MIGHT MAKE IT EASIER TO ENDEAR YOURSELF TO.

[Look at his tail wagging... That's precious. It makes it easier for him to say that and mean it. It makes Mettaton happy to see him brighten up somewhat. Which is a shame, considering he neglected to tell him the extent of their encounter... He could keep up with this facade and lie, which is so easy to do. He's an actor.

But even his ears — the ears which are half-standing in their gradual recovery, finally — emote more truly than his monitor does when they fold back at the unpleasant thought, omitting part of the encounter. He feels it, and heaves a sigh. Talk about unintentional behaviors, even when he was only thinking about that cursed need to freeze upon spotting danger...]

... IT'S ONLY A MINOR DETAIL. BUT. YOU MIGHT HAVE MISTAKEN ME FOR ONE OF OUR CAPTORS, AT SOME POINT. AND CAN YOU BE BLAMED? [He gestures in a half-shrug, palm-up.] I WAS, AFTER ALL, HANDLING YOUR SILVER RESTRAINTS.

[Mettaton's real sore spot was the fact that he failed to recognize him at first, too. Even though he knew it was because he was in his new body, and monsterkind is far more familiar with this one. Since his EX body was his long coveted one, he hoped it would be taken to easily and considered one in the same, but that was evidence against that.]

ONCE AGAIN, I AM HARDY. IT DIDN'T HURT. YOU WERE SCARED, REASONABLY SO!

[Probably. He was already in a world of hurt.]

[As Mettaton starts talking about their changes, Papyrus glances sidelong at the wrecked pillow. Unintentional behaviors come in such a range, from snarling and growling at threats - or freezing and pulling away from threats - to milder things like chewing on things in his sleep. They're all still a little challenging to endear himself to. But he's working on it.

The backwards ears are a familiar enough body language cue, between pucas here and all the Snowdin rabbits back home, that Papyrus listens intently. It looks like unhappiness, and maybe a little like fear...?]

Uhhh... I really can't imagine it. You're so distinctive, either way!

[Though this form is still much more familiar than the other. Maybe the transition would happen faster if they had TV here, and he was seeing performances more frequently.]

Mostly, I remember... You reassuring me, that helped. Waking up... exhausted.

[Exhausted like after shifting...? And he thinks he remembers biting at one of the Rathmores, when they were tugging on the chains and restraining him in the first place. That was what happened, right?]

They really let you touch, uh, the chains...?

[He does not want to think of them as his silver restraints. They might have stuck with him far longer than he liked, but they didn't come home with him. No silver souveniers for this skeleton, thank you!]

THEY DID. I WAS SURPRISED, MYSELF. MOREOVER... I HAD TO TAKE ACTION!

[He doesn't need to share the thought he had in retrospect, that it was likely intentional. He realized that more than ever after he was trapped in a cell with Soren, the Dragon gone feral. The Rathmores would do what they could for easy torture caused by other Mirrobound, and they tried that frequently with the metal Puca for some unfortunate reason.

Those were the parts Mettaton disliked the most, even above being cut open, messed with, tortured, hurt. He could kind of force himself to think of it like bad repairs done by imbeciles, in those cases, but it none of it actually sits well with him. Thinking on it all, his ears remain flattened. ...He shuts off his screen, and it remains an unlit red.]

I BELIEVE THE REASSURANCES YOU REMEMBER... ARE ABOUT ALL THAT KEPT OUR ENCOUNTER AS TAME AS IT WAS. AS I WAS IN MY EX BODY. THOUGH YOU LIKELY DON'T REMEMBER THAT. [Mettaton still postures dramatically, clutching the upper corner of his body.] HARDLY SHAPED LIKE A RATHMORE! BUT PERHAPS... NOT WHAT MONSTERS RECALL OF MY BELOVED BODY.

[He couldn't begin to voice this disappointment to anybody who isn't Alphys, or somebody unrelated. It's just that part of him that loves humanity so dearly that he wants to look like one that fills him with any bitterness! It's not Papyrus's fault.]

THAT MAY BE THE CULPRIT.

I remember your EX body.

[Papyrus protests, defensively. What kind of Mettaton fan would he be if he forgot that big and spectacular reveal?? Even if the revised form had only shown up from time to time in later performances. And he'd only seen the occasional episodes, with the amount of time he spent visiting the Ruins. Between that and reruns of older content, the familiar box form only aired a fraction of the time... But he wasn't about to forget it.]

And I remember, uh...

[He thinks, digging harder through his fragmented memories to make more sense of them, in light of everything Mettaton's been saying. If he hadn't recognized his favorite celebrity... It was probably from not seeing that form very much, and all the trauma. And yet. Something about Mettaton's hands.]

They messed with the chains a few times, making it hurt... different ways...

[This time he trails off, remembering some things consciously for the first time. There'd been black, human-looking figures accompanied by smells of gore and metallic torture implements. Tugging at him and the chains, the burning wrapped around and between bones in places that normally didn't get touched by anyone. He'd refused to give up, even through the fear and sometimes alien anger...

Even though, one of those times, the figure had told him to hold still and hold steady, reassuring him through the pain. And... Those furred, robotic hands weren't those of a human, were they? Hadn't Mettaton just been saying, he'd reacted like Mettaton was a Rathmore, growling until reassured? Adjusting his binds with human-like features and black hair, a shape he'd associated with pain...

It takes a few seconds for Papyrus to notice that the growling isn't from memory, but coming from him. Again. He claps a hand over his mouth, but he's a skeleton, and it only does so much to muffle the sound.]

Oh my god. That was you?? I thought, I thought...

[He doesn't know what he thought, but noticing Mettaton's expression - of body language - cuts off whatever he might've said.]

[And that growling earns his ears at tall alert, as tall as they can go without flopping over at the tips. Mettaton steadies himself against the couch reflexively to lapse into one of his freezing episodes as though jarringly forced back into the cell, the unshakeable star shaken to the core.

The full moon doesn't help.

As Papyrus stammers his realization, Mettaton's body language is statuesque. If he hadn't reached out to grab onto the couch, he would've no doubt fallen over. Even though he realizes Papyrus has trailed off, the robotic Puca can't shake himself out of the uptick in... fear? Is this fear?

How could it be, if he's just thinking about how much it sucks that Papyrus just admitted that he totally didn't recognize him? That he thought one of the Rathmores was the one "making it hurt," when it was him trying to make it better? He dwells on these thoughts in his petrification, in the meanwhile.]

[It's like the conversation has come full circle. Papyrus finding Mettaton leaning against his couch, alarmingly still about it, without warning in his home. That, and the hesitant need to ask...]

I... Mettaton? Are you... okay?

[He expects to see something flash on the robot's screen, expects to hear him say something. But this posture isn't someone who's taken a nap, it's as though someone paused Mettaton. Or...

Papyrus stiffens, if less rigidly, as he comes to a realization. Oh no. He doesn't have many puca friends to have described this particular problem to him at length... And he's never done as much reading about the different sorts of monsters or their maladies as he could have, always finding other things with which to occupy his time and mind. But he's heard about it.]

Oh my god. No! It's fine, it's okay. I'm okay, I'm... Ugh, stop growling.

[Somehow, the self-directed command doesn't hold much weight, not when he's growling as he says it - even if it ends in an agitated whine. He stamps a foot a few times, annoyed with himself and these changes, needing to do something other than growl about it and make it worse. That's not very Papyrus of him, feeling helpless and incapable...

Inspiration strikes, and he darts for the far side of the couch and plops down. He has no idea if it'll help a puca, to move a little away out of eyeshot and lower himself by sitting down... but he thinks it would, going by how territorial his turnskin instincts feel.]

There! I am sitting down! Like a cool friend, hanging out, ready to watch TV. Even though there's no TV! All is well!!

[Likewise, he has no idea if this is helpful to Mettaton - - but it's at least helpful to him. Loudly telling himself that he's cool and relaxes, like any motivational sentiment, sinks in with enough repetition. Enough that the growling has dropped to more of a rumble in his voice, punctuated by the slight high pitched sound of his worried hope reflecting in whined vowels. More than usual.]

[How very frustrating it is to have all of his thought processes rendered into... This! He can only describe it as being like a motion picture in fast forward, unable to cling to details, just the faintest understanding of his overall thoughts as fear, paltry as it is, rules the day.

It's almost scary how his body feels so wrong when he can't move it, reminds him of how often he's always felt off in his various forms. Standing before Papyrus, he can't even have the security of his dream form in this moment when he'd like it. Not only for the stability of two legs, but for the lack of dissonance and dysmorphia, for the comfort it provides. He appreciates this body for the years it's been his, and he's grown endeared to it, but it was never the body that sealed him to corporealization. The one that did it for him is the one that Papyrus couldn't register as him. He's less upset about the voice, given that all of his voices are patently his, but the body still stings.

He could nearly pull himself out of this petrification if it weren't for the second round of growling. He stays rigid until he jolts once Papyrus lunges for the couch, and freezes... again. Frustratingly. With his hand up and poised like he's about to brace for danger.

Unfortunately, Mettaton may be one of the strangest Puca in that he will never flee. Only freeze. Someday, this may land him in some real danger.

As soon as the Turnskin makes himself at home on his couch with the declaration that he'd be watching TV, it... soothes Mettaton's frazzled (?!?!?) nerves. His hand drops. He lets go of the sofa in a dramatized sigh, nearly falls over against it if not for the sudden sway to right his posture, and presses his palm to cover the right half of his screen.]

... UNINTENTIONAL BEHAVIOR. AHAHA. [Shake off the nerves. He's better than this.] I WASN'T SO SCARED... AS I WAS SHOCKED. BUT! MY BRAND NEW INSTINCTS SEEM TO REGISTER MANY SUDDEN, PRIMAL SURPRISES... AS WORTH POSING, STATUESQUE, FOR.

[In a renewed act of good humor, Mettaton strikes a sexy pose against the couch, displaying a heart.]

THE VERY LEAST IT COULD SPARE ME... IS THE OPPORTUNITY TO FREEZE IN A MORE GLAMOROUS POSE. DON'T YOU AGREE, BEAUTIFUL...?

[Imagine going from frozen in fear to flirtatious within a minute.]

[It's difficult to imagine... But far easier to imagine is, Mettaton's claim of going from shocked to flirtatious within a minute.

Especially with it being Mettaton. The immediate flirtation strikes him as reassurance that things are, if not normal, then returning to normalcy - a normalcy very much wanted! Imagine Undyne, not yelling about things or throwing stuff. Or Sans, not making terrible jokes. Surely, such things would be signs that something was terribly wrong.]

Y-Yeah, that wasn't your most glamorous...

[He hesitates for a second or two, head tilted sidelong to look over without staring what he fears would be aggressively, before choosing to believe these flirtatious reassurances. If it were a bad habit the robot was choosing... Papyrus might dwell on the worry, and even say something about it. But if it's an unintentional behavior from the changes, well. They're supposed to accept those, or else make things worse about the new instincts. So he's doubly content with sweeping it under the rug and faking it til they make it.]

But, you know, you're always glamorous! Even if it's not your one hundred percent best... It's always good!

[Papyrus nods, emphatically, searching for further encouragements to offer back. His tail isn't wagging yet, there's a forced quality to his cheer, but the more he goes the more sincere it becomes.]

I'm sure, with practice, you'll fall into beautiful poses every time. Or, just, always be posing beautifully!

[That, he can imagine easily.]

Edited 2020-03-29 19:43 (UTC)

OOOOH, YES!! NOW YOU'RE THINKING!! TO MAINTAIN A CONSTANT STATE OF BEAUTY, SO THAT EVEN A SNAPSHOT SHOULD DAZZLE... TO THINK. GIVEN MY NEW CONSTRAINTS... EVEN I HAVE ROOM FOR SEDUCTIVE IMPROVEMENT!!

[He finger-guns at Papyrus, his screen swapping red as he disengages from the sofa. It is much easier to talk about his showiness and potential for sexy antics. Shocked isn't a lie, per se, but it's a lie to say that he wasn't scared. For as emotionally competent as Mettaton is, fear still remains difficult for him to see in himself. He was the one sitting here wondering why he was frozen, confused by the rigidity of his body and the way his mind raced.

It doesn't matter, since he's not frozen anymore. A strong emotion of a jarring, surprising nature? That'll do it, he decides. Fake it until they make it — it's a complex issue otherwise, and perhaps one that really does hinge on unintentional behaviors no thanks to their changes. Papyrus grows, Mettaton freezes. That's how it's likely to be.

Ignoring the fact that he shouldn't freeze, because ultimately, this reminds Mettaton strongly of the fact that the Rathmores did this to him. It's because of them that he's at all afraid, of Soren and of Papyrus. It sucks; even worse that he can't help but wonder that the issue with Papyrus could have been mitigated if he'd made a longer-lasting impression with his EX body. But if he keeps putting himself in his presence, he's certain he can redefine their experience.

He's optimistic. Mettaton's ears pull back into something neutral, pleasant.]

WHILE YOUR INJURIES WERE PLENTY IN THE REALM OF PHYSICAL, I'VE BEEN MERELY A TOUCH OFF-KILTER IN MY ACT. AS YOU WITNESSED, FIRST HAND. MY APOLOGIES, BEAUTIFUL. FOR AS PLEASED AS I AM TO SEE YOU IN RECOVERY... REST ASSURED, THAT I'LL BE IN TOP SHAPE IN NO TIME.

[He clasps together his hands.]

ESPECIALLY WITH THAT NEW ENCHANTMENT, FOR METAL WEAKNESSES! WITH MY PROPHETIC SENSE AS A PUCA... I DETECT ONLY GOOD THINGS, IN THE NEAR FUTURE.

[It doesn't work like that, and it sure would suck if things got really awful after making such an audacious claim.]

[Caught in his mental images as he is, it's hard for Papyrus to imagine Mettaton's seductive skills improving even more. It's an almost fearsome proposition. He grins with just a lingering strain to his face and voice, as it's not quite accurate to say his injuries were purely physical... But boy oh boy, he'd like to believe they were.]

Yeah!!! You're already making good things happen. And, if it doesn't burn the same way... It's that much easier to put the past where it belongs!

[In the past. Or, perhaps, in the trash. Hard to say. Come to think of it, now that Mettaton's gotten his supplies and enchantment squared away...]

In fact! Umm. Do you still have, the recipe for it?

[It doesn't work as easily as Mettaton's saying... But if they crowd their lives with good things, and things that make the bad things less bad, then. Then! Maybe the near future can be pretty close to only good.]

DO I EVER! AND THEN SOME. IN FACT, I WAS PREPARED FOR OTHER MONSTERS TO ASK ME THAT VERY QUESTION.

[With a heart on his screen, Mettaton reaches around his body and into... his body... probably. He produces things sometimes, in this manner. He's not wearing a dress to hide remotes in, no, but paper is no heavy burden.

The robotic idol produces a sheet of parchment that has been folded up into a nice, neat rectangle. Not just any rectangle, but a distinctly Mettaton-shaped rectangle, by way of origami. He's always excessive. There's a heart drawn on the front of it, like a Valentine, with the letters MTT illustrated within. Unfolding it will suggest that he himself hand-copied the formula in his curly script for the distribution to other metal-vulnerable Monsters.

The TV star wheels closer to Papyrus with exuberance, paper held out for the taking. The air he gives off now is nothing like the tentative fear he had on mere moments ago, the purpose of the moment giving him other things to focus on.]

AND, FOR THE ROAD, I ALSO HAD THEM PRODUCE FOR ME A NUMBER OF SLIPS BEARING THE ENCHANTMENT! IN CASE FINDING A WILLING WITCH TAKES YOU LONGER THAN YOU HOPE. [In his other hand, two heavier slips of paper bear a number of inky scrawls and sigils, drawn up by a Witch who was surely being imposed upon by Mettaton. The heart disappears from his screen to be replaced by a number 1.] THOUGH I DOUBT YOU'LL HAVE TROUBLE, WITH CHARM LIKE YOURS! IT'LL BE EASY! WHO COULD SAY NO TO HELPING YOU OUT??

NONETHELESS. IF YOU FIND NOBODY WILLING, SPEAK TO ME, SWEETHEART. I'LL FIND SOMEBODY FOR YOU.

[Even an unwilling somebody. Probably an unwilling somebody. That's Mettaton's charm.]

[It takes a second, but the mysteriously stored parchment gets a belated blink from Papyrus as he realizes there's no sign of pockets or a phone for Mettaton to have pulled that from... Maybe Alphys installed a dimensional box in the robot, and got it working here through some magitech...?

He doesn't know enough about this sort of advanced magical engineering to spend more than a second or two wondering about it, before the force of Mettaton's charm and presence distracts him from the question. The speed, ease, and showmanship with which the robot hands things over, the encouraging offers of help... It's such a heartening relief that his tail starts wagging again.]

Oh my god! I should have known... Of course you'd have some prepared!

[Just like the cooking shows: don't advertise a product unless it's prepared already, available for display to his loving audience, right?]

Thank you!!! I'll ask around. And surely find someone who says yes!

[If nothing else, there's probably witches who haven't heard of this creation yet, who'd be intrigued to take notes on it for use by their bonds or other friends.]

[He probably had a dimensional box on his person. But he doesn't here. Paper is about all he can tote around. But harnessing some magitech on a body like his is a brilliant idea...

Having handed off the papers, Mettaton exhibits a heart upon his screen and raises a finger. The other returns to his hip in a fist. His ears, only half-way capable of emoting, settle into something conveying a pleasant feeling. He is ready for this type of showmanship, with the ways he's been wanting to show off this brand new creation.]

FABULOUS! I'M THRILLED TO PASS ALONG SOMETHING WHICH HAS HELPED ME SO IMMENSELY... TO OTHERS IN NEED. [And... like he's been thinking about it... The letter M appears upon his screen.] MTT-BRAND METAL BUFFER! NOT THE KIND YOU MIGHT USE TO POLISH A SEXY ROBOT TO A MIRROR-SUAVE SHINE... BUT THE KIND USED TO ATTAIN DEFENSES JUST AS FINE!! OHHH YES! I LIKE IT!

[Branding things. As Mettaton does. He just hasn't been stricken with the right inspiration until right now.

(It would be impossible to tell that he's been in a rut, in this moment. Hard to keep himself afloat with months without a Bond, with constant disfigurement, and with constant pain. The torture's the icing on the cake. But things are, hopefully, looking up.)]

[Ahhh, the sounds of an MTT-Brand commercial, playing in his living room. Nostalgia in a robotic box, even if the specific product being advertised isn't one he'd heard dozens of times in the underground. Comfortingly familiar. Except! This time! It's in person!

His tail in full force, Papyrus clutches the papers to his chest much as any fan might, when given something by their favorite celebrity.]

Yeah!!! I like it too! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!!

[Restless energy has him bounce in place, too amped up to immediately know what to say beyond enthusiastically agreeing. Their efforts to change the subject to a more positive, less fear-inducing one have been more than successful... But it's still the afternoon before the full moon, and the neighboring nights are close enough to effect many monsters - Papyrus among them.

But after a second or two, he glances back towards the kitchen and the abandoned groceries.]

And! Speaking of things we like. Do you, uh... Do you want something to eat, before you go? As a thank you!

[Does Mettaton even eat, he's no longer sure.]

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have some more growls

yessss

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and that's a wrap, I think

yes! 👍