Mettaton~! ♥ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mettatonvevo) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-09-02 04:54 pm
mettatonvevo) wrote in entrancelogs2016-09-02 04:54 pm
[OPEN] I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me
Who: Mettaton, Mirror Mettaton, and YOU!
Where: Mettaton’s Room and then the rest of Wonderland!
When: September 1st (backdated shhh)
Rating: PG-13 but will probably go higher because Mirrors, am I right?
Summary: Mirror Mettaton has been DYING to get his hands on his real for awhile now. Real Mettaton has no idea that this is a thing and consequently suffers for it.
The Story:
It’s a usual day for Mettaton. Wake up, check his systems, run diagnostics, decide on an outfit (or not), then touch up anything on his body that might not be up to his standard. Despite those last few parts hinging on using his full-body mirror, he’s not too worried about it. His mirror and he have a deal, after all. They help each other look good and then carry on with their days, with the mirror covered in a beautiful white throw blanket after that. (They decided together what kind of thing would cover it.) All in all, it’s typical.
Until he finds an invitation to a house party on his bedside desk and he goes to his mirror for his routine. It’s not immediate to him that the glass has been removed from his mirror. All he sees when he finally stands in front of it and looks at it is his reflection. Nothing strange or off about it. It smiles when he smiles, moves when he moves, and the room behind it looks just like his. So he does his thing. Adjusts any plates that need adjusting, fixes his gloves, re-styles his hair. It’s all going well; even if his reflection seems a bit slow with responding to him suddenly.
Wait. What?
His hands stop their hair ministrations, falling to his sides as his “reflection” grins and continues fixing his hair.
“Don’t let me stop you, darling. We were both doing so well, after all.”
The Real Mettaton gapes, stunned and unmoving as his Mirror reaches out and gently tucks a stray piece of hair on his face behind his ear. “It’s best to move that. We don’t want our beautiful eyes to be covered.”
Mettaton lets out a strangled yell, pulling himself away just before his Mirror’s hands, gentle and soft when they initially reached, now with his fingers clawed and outstretched, grab at his neck. He stumbles backwards, knocking over one of his tables and the journals on it onto the floor, tripping on them and landing on the ground as well.
“How is this happening? How is this happening???” he cries out, well and truly terrified as his Mirror takes a languid step into his room, looking around as he does.
“I’m not quite sure myself, but the Queen seems to have allowed us the freedom to walk around as we please, both Real and Mirror alike. She can be gracious like that.” He says the last part with a careless air as his attention is oddly focused on the closet for a moment.
Mettaton wants to be running, bolting for the door, anything but sprawled on the floor like his legs have lost all ability to move. But he doesn’t get what he wants, as his mirror looks away from the closet and advances on him.
“Our little truce has been nice and all, but honestly? I miss you. A lot. I want to talk to you more, BE with you more! And this event is just the time for that! This is absolutely wonderful for both of us!”
Is he trembling? Mettaton might be trembling. His mirror shakes his head, grinning like a mad man.
“You don’t have to be afraid! We’re going to be great friends, don’t you see? We won’t need anyone else in the world. Just us.”
This finally rouses something akin to courage in Mettaton’s heart, though it’s more disgruntled pettiness than anything else. “Look, I know I’m self-absorbed, but not even I could live my whole life just talking to myself all day. That’s unrealistic.”
His Mirror’s face falls, becoming more serious. “What if there was no one else who ever wanted to talk to you? What if it there was only me?”
A deep sense of dread wells up inside Mettaton, leaking out of his mouth and causing him to stutter. “L-Luckily that’s not how things are here. There are plenty of other people for me to speak to-“
His mirror pounces quickly, wrestling Mettaton down with only a small yelp from the Real as the Mirror reaches over him and stretches his arms towards the closet, where there is a small wad of fabric and rope conveniently waiting for him. “Wonderland really knows how to give you what you want," the mirror muses happily as he wrenches his real's body down. "It’s one of the nicer things about it.”
Mettaton thrashes as hard as he can, endeavoring to try and push himself- no, his Mirror- off of his body. “You bastard, how dare you touch me!!” he cries out as he tries to fight against arms that wrap like his own, circling him in. He opens his mouth to say something more scathing, something more dramatic and interesting, but it becomes an angry muffled yell when his Mirror stuffs the gag into his mouth, tying it around his head and shoving his face into the carpet as he makes quick work of tying Mettaton’s arms and legs together.
When his work is complete, Mettaton’s Mirror grins proudly. “Now, I know this is a bit uncomfortable, but the thing is that you can’t be trusted. So I’m going to go out and take care of some things. When I come back, you and I are going to have a chat about your plans to stay here in Wonderland forever. It’s going to be riveting, I promise.”
He rolls his Real under his bed, chuckling at the muffled screams and curses that float out from underneath it. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart. Don’t hurt yourself while I’m gone~!”
He stands up then, dusting himself off a bit, fixing his hair and boots and adjusting his gloves so that he looks in tip top shape. Without any further glances behind him, Mettaton’s Mirror walks out into the hall, intent on ruining everyone and anyone’s good opinion of Mettaton.
((OOC: Wanna run into Mirror Mettaton? Wanna rescue Real Mettaton? Here’s a place to do it! Just mention it in subject who you want and I’ll get the ball rolling! Want to interact with Mettaton or his Mirror but this post doesn’t strike your fancy? That’s fine! I’ll be posting top levels for them for the various other parties and mingles set after this debacle. Mettaton’s getting out from under that bed regardless of if he’s rescued or not.))
Where: Mettaton’s Room and then the rest of Wonderland!
When: September 1st (backdated shhh)
Rating: PG-13 but will probably go higher because Mirrors, am I right?
Summary: Mirror Mettaton has been DYING to get his hands on his real for awhile now. Real Mettaton has no idea that this is a thing and consequently suffers for it.
The Story:
It’s a usual day for Mettaton. Wake up, check his systems, run diagnostics, decide on an outfit (or not), then touch up anything on his body that might not be up to his standard. Despite those last few parts hinging on using his full-body mirror, he’s not too worried about it. His mirror and he have a deal, after all. They help each other look good and then carry on with their days, with the mirror covered in a beautiful white throw blanket after that. (They decided together what kind of thing would cover it.) All in all, it’s typical.
Until he finds an invitation to a house party on his bedside desk and he goes to his mirror for his routine. It’s not immediate to him that the glass has been removed from his mirror. All he sees when he finally stands in front of it and looks at it is his reflection. Nothing strange or off about it. It smiles when he smiles, moves when he moves, and the room behind it looks just like his. So he does his thing. Adjusts any plates that need adjusting, fixes his gloves, re-styles his hair. It’s all going well; even if his reflection seems a bit slow with responding to him suddenly.
Wait. What?
His hands stop their hair ministrations, falling to his sides as his “reflection” grins and continues fixing his hair.
“Don’t let me stop you, darling. We were both doing so well, after all.”
The Real Mettaton gapes, stunned and unmoving as his Mirror reaches out and gently tucks a stray piece of hair on his face behind his ear. “It’s best to move that. We don’t want our beautiful eyes to be covered.”
Mettaton lets out a strangled yell, pulling himself away just before his Mirror’s hands, gentle and soft when they initially reached, now with his fingers clawed and outstretched, grab at his neck. He stumbles backwards, knocking over one of his tables and the journals on it onto the floor, tripping on them and landing on the ground as well.
“How is this happening? How is this happening???” he cries out, well and truly terrified as his Mirror takes a languid step into his room, looking around as he does.
“I’m not quite sure myself, but the Queen seems to have allowed us the freedom to walk around as we please, both Real and Mirror alike. She can be gracious like that.” He says the last part with a careless air as his attention is oddly focused on the closet for a moment.
Mettaton wants to be running, bolting for the door, anything but sprawled on the floor like his legs have lost all ability to move. But he doesn’t get what he wants, as his mirror looks away from the closet and advances on him.
“Our little truce has been nice and all, but honestly? I miss you. A lot. I want to talk to you more, BE with you more! And this event is just the time for that! This is absolutely wonderful for both of us!”
Is he trembling? Mettaton might be trembling. His mirror shakes his head, grinning like a mad man.
“You don’t have to be afraid! We’re going to be great friends, don’t you see? We won’t need anyone else in the world. Just us.”
This finally rouses something akin to courage in Mettaton’s heart, though it’s more disgruntled pettiness than anything else. “Look, I know I’m self-absorbed, but not even I could live my whole life just talking to myself all day. That’s unrealistic.”
His Mirror’s face falls, becoming more serious. “What if there was no one else who ever wanted to talk to you? What if it there was only me?”
A deep sense of dread wells up inside Mettaton, leaking out of his mouth and causing him to stutter. “L-Luckily that’s not how things are here. There are plenty of other people for me to speak to-“
His mirror pounces quickly, wrestling Mettaton down with only a small yelp from the Real as the Mirror reaches over him and stretches his arms towards the closet, where there is a small wad of fabric and rope conveniently waiting for him. “Wonderland really knows how to give you what you want," the mirror muses happily as he wrenches his real's body down. "It’s one of the nicer things about it.”
Mettaton thrashes as hard as he can, endeavoring to try and push himself- no, his Mirror- off of his body. “You bastard, how dare you touch me!!” he cries out as he tries to fight against arms that wrap like his own, circling him in. He opens his mouth to say something more scathing, something more dramatic and interesting, but it becomes an angry muffled yell when his Mirror stuffs the gag into his mouth, tying it around his head and shoving his face into the carpet as he makes quick work of tying Mettaton’s arms and legs together.
When his work is complete, Mettaton’s Mirror grins proudly. “Now, I know this is a bit uncomfortable, but the thing is that you can’t be trusted. So I’m going to go out and take care of some things. When I come back, you and I are going to have a chat about your plans to stay here in Wonderland forever. It’s going to be riveting, I promise.”
He rolls his Real under his bed, chuckling at the muffled screams and curses that float out from underneath it. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart. Don’t hurt yourself while I’m gone~!”
He stands up then, dusting himself off a bit, fixing his hair and boots and adjusting his gloves so that he looks in tip top shape. Without any further glances behind him, Mettaton’s Mirror walks out into the hall, intent on ruining everyone and anyone’s good opinion of Mettaton.
((OOC: Wanna run into Mirror Mettaton? Wanna rescue Real Mettaton? Here’s a place to do it! Just mention it in subject who you want and I’ll get the ball rolling! Want to interact with Mettaton or his Mirror but this post doesn’t strike your fancy? That’s fine! I’ll be posting top levels for them for the various other parties and mingles set after this debacle. Mettaton’s getting out from under that bed regardless of if he’s rescued or not.))
no subject
As it stands however, the world is bright and distant. The light buzzing of his systems, usually unnoticeable to him, stand out in his mind as they continue speaking.]
How do you know this?
[The words slip out without much rhyme or reason to them, though he thinks idly that it's a fair question. There is no fear of finding out the answer in this moment; only the inevitable feeling that it will come, and when it does, he will have to act. Somehow.]
no subject
And there they'd been thinking of just killing him and being done with it. But why would they ever do that when instead they could drive a stake in his SOUL, tear apart whatever saccharine friendship he and the Real Frisk have established?]
You really should take better care of your things, ghost-bot. Throwing something like the key to your home away was a very poorly-rationalized move.
[Especially when it's well-known that monsters regularly rummage through the human garbage that falls in from the surface! Really, Mettaton, they're horribly disappointed in you.]
Pretending a key isn't there doesn't make it go away, you know.
no subject
Ghost-bot. How absurd. He shifts, just a little, to test how firmly seated the Mirror is on him. His mind is coming back to him, reminding him of the danger, and he begins to plan.]
Well you see, generally speaking, in the Underground Monsters are more likely to respect your personal space. As well as less likely to throw your personal business back into your face. Things you probably don't understand all that well, seeing as your parents didn't teach you much.
[Did this mirror have parents? He's not honestly sure. The statement is mostly just a placeholder for continuing to think up... something.]
no subject
But then, I know how you treat your friends, if it's at all how you treat your family.
[He's trying to move beneath them, they can tell. He might be physically stronger, but they're the one with the Dagger. They let the blade drop back into view, lazily insouciant.]
I really wouldn't.
no subject
I wouldn't say it is treasured, all things considered. More like it was a necessity.
[It grates on him, this guilt that this failure of a being is throwing on him, and how it actually sticks. Who do they think they are, to speak to him like this? Who does he think he is, to let this happen?]
Oh of course, this is next. How cliche of you. Bring up my family to "Twist the knife", pun intended. If only we had a few cameras in here, I could put this on one of my dramas. The fans would eat it up.
[NEO would take too long to form, giving them enough time to stab him through and cause some serious damage. He'd send off an electrical charge and halve their HP in one hit, but that would require switching to his box form and once again he worries that it wouldn't be fast enough to offset any attacks, despite the better defense it would grant him.
But where they are seated on his body is precarious in a different way... he'll have to keep them busy and take them by surprise. And hope he can handle the inevitable RESET that would come after.]
no subject
[Their tone is bright and blithe. He's deflecting again, isn't he? Playing up his ego again in a flare of false courage. Yes, well. He's very Chara in that way. They would get along so well.
He probably fancies himself the dazzling hero. A roguish anti-hero, maybe, if you stretch definitions. A cackling villain in one pulp B-film or another.
Or a glorified NPC who only appears in the last fourth of the game, exits with a bang, and doesn't even get to show up in the final battle!]
Oh no, don't worry. I'm not going to kill you.
[They get to their feet with slow indolence, brace their foot against his back with one arm draped lazily over their knee as they lean down to eye him directly.]
But don't think for one second that this is me showing you MERCY.
no subject
[His anger is overriding any other emotion now, burying the sadness and terror and the despair threatening to swallow him up. Now he just wants this to end, however it may end. If that results in a knife in his back, well. That's just how it is then.]
no subject
So I think I'll leave you here while I go take a look around. I'm ever so curious to see how one can kill a ghost, and I'm awfully eager to find out! Lucky for me, I've got all the time in the world!
[Why would they ever kill him when they could do this, and have it be so much sweeter.
They apply a bit more pressure than is necessary as they give him a forceful shove with their foot, and roll him back beneath the bed.]
You take care now, Happstablook, or whatever your real name is. And don't scream too loudly. Your cousin's not quite as insufferably chatty, and I want you to hear them when I catch up to them.
no subject
But then they threaten to got after Blooky, and he feels it all drain out of him. The tide of fear that has been building since the moment Mirror Frisk pulled him out from under the bed overwhelms him, swallows him, and he cries out.]
No! Leave them alone!
[He's under the bed again but he's struggling to roll himself back out, not caring that he looks ridiculous, not caring that he sounds so frightened, forgetting that honestly? There is a good chance this Frisk couldn't even make a dent in their HP. All he can think of is his cousin being pinned down somewhere and slashed to pieces. And it fills him with unending panic.]
no subject
Or what? What're you gonna do? Bedazzle me to death?
Don't make play too rough, now. I might have to come back to shut you up!
[They grin again, fleeting and savage, before pivoting neatly, jerking at the door's knob.]
Have fun.
[The door shuts behind them with a quiet click of finality.]