[post deaging] what if your hinges all are rusting

[mettaton_rex]

Everything's back to normal.

The hallways are as run-down as ever, the decorations and the music all gone. Mettaton wanders through them, not clear on where he's headed, only knowing he can't bear to keep still. His mind catches up with him, if he tries.

He's himself again. Why doesn't he feel like it?

He made it back to his room last night, after coming to himself again where he'd been stargazing out in the gardens, and after the ensuing bout of hysterical cackling finally wore itself out. At least he's dressed now, ruffled shirt hiding the cracks in his core. More or less - it's buttoned up wrong, letting little glimpses of pink show through. His crown isn't on straight either (the new one, the diamond-studded circlet he found abandoned in a dusty bedroom, not the one he gave up for lost in the library months ago). He's aware of all this. He doesn't plan to fix it.

A door looks familiar. He opens it, and finds himself stepping into the ballroom. There it is, same as ever - grand and empty, tables piled high with confections. Mettaton pauses by one of them, looking up at the massive tiered cake in its centre. And then further up, to a dusty spiderweb hanging from a corner of the ceiling.

"Not so young and beautiful yourself, now, are you?" he hisses, to the room, to the whole awful castle, something hot and vicious boiling up inside him. He raises a leg, braces his foot against the edge of the table. "Nobody wants you any more, darling! Nobody wants to be here! Nobody cares!"

His voice rises to a shout as he kicks, hard, flipping the table over. Cakes and pastries smash against the floor, plates shattering. Mettaton strides into the wreckage, grinding his heel into anything he sees left intact. There's frosting all over his boots. It doesn't matter.

None of it matters now.

Comments

[dustless]

Don't think the castle cares, either.

They don't say that. They don't think they need to. If anything, Frisk thinks he needs this.

So instead, when they come across him, leaning against the ballroom doorway, they just cross their arms and suggest "You can do the throne room next."

[mettaton_rex]

Well. That's not the reaction he would have expected, if he'd been thinking about it at all. He pauses, surprise briefly showing on his face before it twists into a too-wide grin.

"Oh, yes." He spins round to face Frisk, kicking away the silver platter he'd been carving deep scratches into with the point of his heel. "That's a wonderful suggestion! Why stop here?"

[dustless]

"You can even knock the thrones down."

Frisk really shouldn't be encouraging him to spread this. But they're...feeling strange, and their expression isn't budging.

It's not anger, they think. Anger is burning and wanting to join and snarl and FIGHT, or it's ice and deciding what to do that'll make something happen even if it hurts somebody, and they hate those, and that's not happening.

They just...don't want to do anything.

Except watch. And saying stuff is helping, they guess.

[mettaton_rex]

"Knock them down? Angel, please. You forget who you're talking to! Think bigger."

He raises his hand. A bomb forms, hovering just above it. Mettaton turns and takes aim at the table across the room, teeth bared, eyes shining. "Welcome to Revenge of the Killer Robot!"

He flings the bomb. The table blows apart in a flash of white light and a shower of cream and frosting, and Mettaton bursts out laughing all over again, doubled over and wiping cake out of his eyes. That felt wonderful. Why did he hold himself back for so long?

[lawofcycles]

[ Madoka hears the commotion and comes running. There's always a part of her, a part Homura would chide as silly and naive, that wouldn't let her leave well enough alone. Somebody is screaming something awful at somebody and Madoka isn't about to allow that!! She turns a corner, see's the man standing in the middle of the wreckage and thinks Oh.

This man, (prince? king? a crown can mean a lot!) looks so angry and sad she can barely help herself. ]

"U-um. Mister? Are you alright?" [ Its so pathetically little to say, but she doesn't know what else to do with a stranger. ]

[mettaton_rex]

[He doesn't look up, at first, too focused on the cupcake that he's crushing into useless crumbs.] It's 'your highness', darling. Or 'your majesty'. 'Your radiance', 'your royal fabulousness', whatever -

[And then he does turn to look at her, and freezes for a moment. The last time they met, he'd assumed she was a singer, or maybe an actor... but now with his memory restored, he understands. His voice turns quieter, oddly distant.]

...I know what you are, now.

[lawofcycles]

"Oh. Um, I'm really sorry then your highness." [His cool tone is so intimidating. She's shrinks down a little, fiddling with her skirt. ] I didn't uh, realize you were a king.

[Aaaah! What is she saying! Of course she realized she saw the crown, she has eyes! He probably thinks she's super dumb now.

She somehow looks even more shocked at his accusation. He knows what she is but that's so vague what does he mean? A magical girl? A coward? A bad person? ] Eh? Uh! I-I'm sorry?

[lostinmyway]

Someone is shouting; their voice echoes down the hallways. It's easier to hear now that the singing is gone.

Grune is already moving toward them before she registers just how upset they sound, or recognise who's speaking. Their voice is distorted enough that it takes peeking into the ballroom for her to realise it's....

"Mettaton?"

He's standing in the middle of a lot of smashed sweets. ...He doesn't look very good.

"Are you all right?"

[mettaton_rex]

...oh no. Not Grune. She's going to try to comfort him, isn't she? She's going to be kind and sweet and caring and try to make him feel better.

He doesn't want to feel better. He's -

"Fine!" he snaps, stamping down on a still more-or-less whole meringue. "I'm just perfect!"

[lostinmyway]

"Oh. All right."

She almost leaves then. Mettaton is her friend, and friends don't lie to each other. So that means he really is fine, doesn't it?

But...maybe he doesn't know he's not fine. She thinks he might need a hug.

And so she turns back and asks, "Are you sure?"

[trombones]

"I'm all for letting off some steam..."

As always, Sans is there. Behind him, a good distance away, sitting on a table at the opposite end. He dangles his legs, chin in his hand, watching.

"... but I was gonna eat some of that."

He brings his free hand up in a lazy shrug. Eh. Oh well, it says. His expression is unmoving, unchanging, same as ever, but there's something watchful to it. He doesn't make a move to stop Mettaton, much less say otherwise. Just watching.

[mettaton_rex]

"Gah!" Ok, needless to say, he was not expecting that. He whips round to face Sans, glaring.

This Sans is the one from the perfect-happy-ending world, isn't he? Not the one who insulted him to his face and thought he was helping.

...and that distinction mattered to him at some point, didn't it?

He wrinkles his nose. "I'm amazed you're not still planning to, honestly."

[trombones]

"Hi."

If anything, this Sans doesn't wear the feather in his hood anymore. He lost it a long time ago. Whatever. He's got a shallow scratch in his cheekbone from a few months back now, and he decided it worked just as well. Speaking of faces.

The skeleton shrugs, and his grin goes lopsided.

"Dunno. I might. You just added, like, a whole three steps to the process now."

Because he would literally eat anything from anywhere. But that's not the focus here.

[einspine]

Papyrus knows that voice. He does not recognize the body- his Mettaton has yet to show his second form, still a box, albeit spikier, with a stylish cape and exaggerated, anime shades thanks to Undyne. But still, Papyrus knows the voice. It's enough to draw him in, despite the shouting, despite the chaos.

It's... worrisome.

So he approaches, albeit with a bit less pep in his step than usual. For all his exuberance, Papyrus isn't so naive as to overlooked blatant unhappiness.

Still, he clears his throat. "Excuse me for intruding, but why would you say such terrible things about yourself? I'm sure that there are many who think you're absolutely great! Perhaps even the greatest!"

[mettaton_rex]

Mettaton freezes. He knows that voice, too, and hearing it again after all this time is enough of a shock that it distracts him from what he would have otherwise shot back with, that it's not himself he's talking about, it's this wretched place -

(It is, for the record, definitely also himself.)

- he looks up from the mangled pastries, at his favourite agent. "Papyrus?"

[einspine]

He puffs out his chest, grinning. "In the flesh! Or... well, bone. You get the idea!" Those silly technicalities! Point being, he is very much there, and very much concerned. Alternate doppelgangers or not, he'd like to at least consider Mettaton a friend.

So, naturally, he moves a bit closer.

"So, what's wrong? Why are you saying such inaccurate and terrible things about yourself?" Mettaton is great! Cool. His favorite sexy robot. Naturally, he must right this wrong. Somehow!

late

[voidster]

One can hardly blame him for getting this Mettaton confused with the other one, the one he's somewhat fond of. A crown and a different outfit hardly make someone a completely different person, and. It's MTT. Not changing his clothing every day would be what's truly out of character.

So when he sees the man pass by, he raises a hand in silent greeting. And when he hears shouting from inside the room, followed by a table crashing to the floor, of course he's going to hurry in. He stares for a shameful amount of time, wondering what set this off. This--doesn't seem right.

Snap. Snap. Click. He snaps his fingers over and over, preferring this over his own broken 'voice' when it comes to getting someone's attention. So many questions to ask, perhaps comfort to give?

pfft no you're not. also lol @ the 3x Concerned Skeleton combo

[mettaton_rex]

It takes a while to register that some of the clicking and snapping sounds aren't coming from under his feet. He looks up sharply. "What do -"

His voice, and his rage, falters for a moment. It's Doctor (what's his name who was it before Alphys must have mentioned it so why can't I remember -) It's the former Royal Scientist. But there's something off about him now, and for whatever reason, it reminds Mettaton of flickering screens and whirring fans and cold.

In a slightly more subdued tone, he finishes, "...what do you want?"

we are ALL skeletons on this blessed day

[voidster]

[My friend--] Curious, curious, how forward the uncanny looking skeleton is being, but he always calls Mettaton that. He steps forward, worry on his face and in his 'tone'. [What's happened? What is wrong?]

hey bruh i got the starbucks also cw child abuse hhh

[itstheend]

So guess who was under the table.

This place seems to be the main place people go to for food in the Castle, although the number has probably waned as people get sick of treats and attempt to cook actual food in the kitchens - they're mainly using late night brushes with Death here as a barometer.

Therefore, the thinking went, they are unlikely to be disturbed, and even if someone does come into the room, what are the chances they look under the tablecloth? Not as low as Chara would like, of course, but they aren't boxed in and could easily bolt if that happened, eating chocolate cupcakes in peace until then.

Or so they thought.

There's the clacking of boots and they roll their eyes, their mood already increasing in darkness. They'd know the sound of those heels anywhere. They don't feel particularly inclined to deal with him, or anyone, at the moment, so they decide to just wait for him to do what he came in here for and go.

Apparently he came in here to shout, and what he shouts... does he know they're there? These sorts of things are things both fallen children have heard, in tone if not in exact words, and it's hitting Frisk hard especially - Chara already knows they'll never be wanted, but Frisk had had a hard-worked-for moment of hope in the past.

And then the table gets kicked away, and Chara expects a found you, you little brat from Mettaton's mouth and their body freezes like they've been doused in ice water before they fumble for the sharpened stake at their side because never again.

ohh oh no (also cw suicide/self-destructive behaviour orz)

[mettaton_rex]

And Mettaton blinks down at them, briefly thrown off from his rampage. "What are you doing here?"

He's expecting some barbed remark about him screaming at nothing, another exchange of snark hostilities, but no. They have a weapon. Apparently what they were doing here was lying in wait to ambush him?

Fine.

Great. Terrific! Whatever! If they want a fight, he'll be happy to give them one! What's the worst that can happen, he gets three whole days of being nothing? That sounds ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL right now!

He takes a step back, spreading his arms wide, giving them a clear shot at him. Bring it on, darling. Show him what you're made of.

this is going so well

[itstheend]

Click. Click. Click.

Ordinarily, that Mettaton asked that question, sincerely surprised, might have defused things a little, but today is a perfect storm of bad decisions for both of them because Chara is in fight-or-flight mode and is therefore running on pure instinct, only picking up tone and the condescension in it, and the identifying crown.

Their blood is boiling - it seals off their throat, chokes out words. They get to their feet as fast as possible (perhaps another clue that might ordinarily have suggested that things were not as they appeared under more levelheaded circumstances), smiling at him as he spreads his arms wide and their SOUL is exposed.

The arrogance. Memory flashes - music, the stage-lights are flaring, I'll be forced to show you my true form.

Black and red magic coils up their weapon from grip to tip (they hate it, they hate it like everything about them, but it's useful) and they thrust the sharpened point forward right at the cracked area of his SOUL, the scent of weakness all over the area.

They're ball of anger and pain, right now, lashing out, and they hate him. They want him to hurt. No thought, just sentiment - no reasoning that this is too easy, might be a trap. It wasn't last time.

He can probably feel it in the strike - 20ATK at LV1 is still nothing to be sneezed at, when applied with this much animosity.

And then their eyes widen, because as much as they want him to suffer, they for their own reasons don't want to kill. As far as they're concerned, they just have, arm freezing halfway through the follow-through. They've only fought Mettaton NEO.

They're expecting a fragile one-hit-wonder.

[aghostinthemachine]

Like a pesky conscience or a guardian angel, the newest Mettaton always seems to show up at all the appropriate times. He watches the display, calm and collected as ever, wondering if this is the ghost he bumped into during his arrival and a few days later. That sad little ghost that he used to be. Unhappy with himself, with his lot in life, with... everything.

But even reliving that, why would this Mettaton be so unhappy still? It breaks his heart to see anyone he cares about upset: especially himself.

There's that familiar clicking of heels echoing through the hall and drawing closer to the royal twin. Even if he bothers to look, he still approaches, only stopping short of the ruined food in the floor. His expression is one of concern but there's no judgement behind his eyes. How could there be? It's him. He simply looks around, then down to his twin'd heels, and back up to his face.

"You're going to ruin a perfectly good pair of boots, darling."

His tone isn't sarcastic or annoyed. The other glambot can tell it's just an ice breaker - and he'll wait until the other has said whatever he needs to before he interjects again.

he's not actually missing half his face any more btw. it's just this icon

[mettaton_rex]

Mettaton freezes in place when he hears the footsteps. He knows the sound of those heels. Of course he does. One of his favourite sounds in the world when it's coming from him, but when it's not...

He looks up, a big, bright, utterly false smile plastered on his face, as the other robot stops walking. This... this is the new one. Must be. The other one wouldn't be able to keep the sneer out of his voice, and oh, that would be so much easier to deal with. He wants to laugh. He wants to scream. He wants to blast his double into oblivion.

He doesn't do any of that. He keeps on smiling, sharp and strained. "Well, we wouldn't want that, would we, beautiful?"

Okay! This one is still missing that part of his face. Didn't want to get it finished.

[aghostinthemachine]

"Not at all," he shakes his head slightly before holding out a hand. "Come with me, won't you? I'll get you fixed up." His eyes rove over his double's body, immediately noticing the messed up dress shirt, although he has yet to spot the damaged core. He pauses before speaking again.

"To the best of my abilities, that is. You don't even need to tell me what's wrong."