That makes you the minority, then. Celebrities and the cultures around celebrities is to consume and be consumed. Else why would we be elevated in the public consciousness?
[It's not the best thing in the world, and in many ways it is helpful! But he, personally, does not see any way for a celebrity to exist without that feeling of ownership from society at large.
Mettaton listens quietly as Sans continues, as Wonderland forces him to open up and say things as he thinks they are, for once. This seems to be a blessing and a curse.]
I wish I could give you more. I wish I could give myself more. But I am so uncertain of where I stand and what I should be putting my energy into that we end up going back and forth. I don't want to be tied down, Sans, not in any capacity. And sometimes even friendships feel like chains.
[Manipulative and cruel sometimes. Right.]
I don't believe you on that, but thank you for the sentiment. I think I have gotten better at hiding it than any real progress.
[As Sans leads him out, the both can distantly hear the sounds of another Mettaton, his past self, get up to start his day. It won't take long until his mirror appears again and quietly Mettaton looks back. Is that what he looks like, writing on the glass every day?
He seems so lonely.
He looks to the hallway again rather quickly after Sans closes the door, though that mischievous grin turns positively wicked as he sets Sans up for ruin.]
Mmm, you're right, I already knew that, soul sharing notwithstanding, but hearing you say it is just an extra bit of dessert at the table.
[Sans's back is to him and that just won't do, so he steps out further into the hallway and tugs his arm from where they are holding hands to turn and face him and draw him closer.]
My feelings flip flop but I can't deny that I hold a strong current of affection for you as well. And our little escapade awhile back really makes me curious how you look when-
[He stops. Wonderland, generally, wouldn't let him stop his sentence there, but it is not a desire to obstruct the truth that stalls his words but merely the sight of a mirror across the hall from them and the contents it now holds. His eyes narrow.]
So you are here.
[No hiding it. No denying who he is talking to. Drawn on the mirror, plain as day, is a pink star. And Mettaton glares at it, hard.]
I don't want to talk. I'm angry at you. And before you write any nonsense, you know what you did.
[Despite his preemptive warning, the star is erased and letters begin to appear- and Mettaton scoffs, letting go of Sans's hand.]
No! I just said "no nonsense", and you're going to start writing about how you don't know what happened. Maybe you don't actually know in this situation, but I don't have to tell you anything. At least not now.
[More writing continues, something to the liking of Mettaton, you're being silly- and the robot stomps away from Sans towards the mirror until he is standing a few feet in front of it.]
Shut up! I'm not talking to you until I'm done being mad, and we both know that's going to be awhile! Maybe! I will miss you rather quickly.
[He grumbles at that. Thanks, Wonderland, for your truth bullshit. As the mirror begins to write more, Mettaton reaches down and takes off one of his boots, leaning sideways and bracing a hand against the wall so he doesn't fall over.]
No no no- fuck you, we will talk later!
[Then, with a swift and decisive throw, he flings his boot at the mirror, the high heel striking the glass and fracturing it. The mirror shakes on the wall, almost falling but instead tilting sideways, pieces of glass falling with a faint tinkle to the ground. Mettaton looks at it and after a moment nods.]
Think on that until we talk again.
[He begins to put his boot back on again as he calls over his shoulder to Sans.]
Sorry about that, darling, seeing him just got me hopping mad.
no subject
[It's not the best thing in the world, and in many ways it is helpful! But he, personally, does not see any way for a celebrity to exist without that feeling of ownership from society at large.
Mettaton listens quietly as Sans continues, as Wonderland forces him to open up and say things as he thinks they are, for once. This seems to be a blessing and a curse.]
I wish I could give you more. I wish I could give myself more. But I am so uncertain of where I stand and what I should be putting my energy into that we end up going back and forth. I don't want to be tied down, Sans, not in any capacity. And sometimes even friendships feel like chains.
[Manipulative and cruel sometimes. Right.]
I don't believe you on that, but thank you for the sentiment. I think I have gotten better at hiding it than any real progress.
[As Sans leads him out, the both can distantly hear the sounds of another Mettaton, his past self, get up to start his day. It won't take long until his mirror appears again and quietly Mettaton looks back. Is that what he looks like, writing on the glass every day?
He seems so lonely.
He looks to the hallway again rather quickly after Sans closes the door, though that mischievous grin turns positively wicked as he sets Sans up for ruin.]
Mmm, you're right, I already knew that, soul sharing notwithstanding, but hearing you say it is just an extra bit of dessert at the table.
[Sans's back is to him and that just won't do, so he steps out further into the hallway and tugs his arm from where they are holding hands to turn and face him and draw him closer.]
My feelings flip flop but I can't deny that I hold a strong current of affection for you as well. And our little escapade awhile back really makes me curious how you look when-
[He stops. Wonderland, generally, wouldn't let him stop his sentence there, but it is not a desire to obstruct the truth that stalls his words but merely the sight of a mirror across the hall from them and the contents it now holds. His eyes narrow.]
So you are here.
[No hiding it. No denying who he is talking to. Drawn on the mirror, plain as day, is a pink star. And Mettaton glares at it, hard.]
I don't want to talk. I'm angry at you. And before you write any nonsense, you know what you did.
[Despite his preemptive warning, the star is erased and letters begin to appear- and Mettaton scoffs, letting go of Sans's hand.]
No! I just said "no nonsense", and you're going to start writing about how you don't know what happened. Maybe you don't actually know in this situation, but I don't have to tell you anything. At least not now.
[More writing continues, something to the liking of Mettaton, you're being silly- and the robot stomps away from Sans towards the mirror until he is standing a few feet in front of it.]
Shut up! I'm not talking to you until I'm done being mad, and we both know that's going to be awhile! Maybe! I will miss you rather quickly.
[He grumbles at that. Thanks, Wonderland, for your truth bullshit. As the mirror begins to write more, Mettaton reaches down and takes off one of his boots, leaning sideways and bracing a hand against the wall so he doesn't fall over.]
No no no- fuck you, we will talk later!
[Then, with a swift and decisive throw, he flings his boot at the mirror, the high heel striking the glass and fracturing it. The mirror shakes on the wall, almost falling but instead tilting sideways, pieces of glass falling with a faint tinkle to the ground. Mettaton looks at it and after a moment nods.]
Think on that until we talk again.
[He begins to put his boot back on again as he calls over his shoulder to Sans.]
Sorry about that, darling, seeing him just got me hopping mad.
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