Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The town of Hometown had been holding its breath for years.

At least that’s how Mettabre saw it. He would admit his biases; he had, coincidentally, been stuck in a seemingly unending bout depression for even longer, but still. There had been a shift, he was sure of it.

Nothing happened anymore, and he didn't just think that because he never got out. One of his cousins would always inevitably fill him in with the latest petty nonsense around town whether he liked it or not. The only events of note that had happened within the last year were those nice skeleton brothers moving in, who seemed like an exception to the rule in general, and Toriel’s eldest going off to university, which was inevitable.

Inevitably aside, Asriel moving out still made Mettabre feel old. He could remember when the kid was born, Mrs. Dreemurr’s maternity leave had left the rowdy class of teenagers (including him) with a rotating cast of substitutes for months... And then she announced that when she returned she would teach the preschool aged kids instead and then Gerson took over and the class finally settled for once.

See, nothing like that happened anymore. It felt like the small town had just run out of things to do. Everyone knew everyone already, everyone had their place. Every year the school was a bit more empty.

It was easy to pinpoint what started it all. The mayor’s beloved daughter went missing, there was that huge investigation, Napstablook was roped into the police force for a couple of days because everyone thought they would be able to find the kid simply because they could phase through walls… but of course it wasn’t that easy. The town gasped in horror, it wept, it wailed. It held its breath in the face of all of the suspense and never let go, because December Holiday had never been found, alive or otherwise. 

Not that any of it was very relevant to Mettabre, he was just a sad ghost in a sad town that didn't know it was sad. But it felt like there was another shift coming, something that had just started a few days ago. The power had gone out, Undyne started talking to the current high school teacher, that Birdy kid somehow learned the tiniest bit of humility, and Toriel's younger kid had started visiting Mettabre? Him specifically? Really, it was almost suspicious, so much happening at once. Not that he knew what to do about it, if anything.

And as he ate ghost breakfast that somewhat unremarkable Thursday morning, thinking about recent events, his mind drifted to something that happened the night before. He was on a float around town late at night with Napstablook, a habit that had established itself as he slowly became more isolated and Blooky started getting worried about his metaphysical health… It felt like something had been watching him, following him. It was only a bit unnerving at the time, enough to shrug off. But in the context of the small little shift Mettabre had been feeling… well. Maybe it had been related, maybe not, but Metta had always been a bit prone to reading into coincidence, and it rattled around in the back of his mind like a rock stuck in a shoe, not that he’d ever experienced that.

Maybe Blooky would come home from work and tell him that someone had gone up to him and asked if their other cousin was in town, you know… the one that moved out. Did she move out, actually? I never see her around, what ever happened to her? Always such a dreamer. And then they'd give him that look that meant “I completely understand why you keep to yourself so much, but sometimes I'm worried about you,” and then Metta would smile his tight, strained smile that meant “Please Stop Worrying About Me I Am A Fully Grown Adult With Perfectly Healthy Coping Mechanisms And Good Mental Health! I'm Fine!” Which was a silent conversation that Mettabre wasn’t really looking forward to. 

And, of course, on top of that uncomfortable possibility, the internet was still down. It was day three now and Mettabre was starting to lose it a bit. He had something that could arguably be called a business to run, goddamnit! His custom dolls weren't going to commission themselves! And the dress- god, the dress. He needed to take its listing down as soon as he possibly could. It wasn't often that he made something to sell and then retroactively decided to keep, but usually he didn't change his mind right before the internet went down for days. It was just stress upon stress upon stress-

He needed to clear his head. Go out back and gaze into the dense forest behind their small patch of lawn. It was a good time of year for that, leaves turning their autumnal yellows and reds but still populating the trees, squirrels hurrying around, preparing for winter. So Mettabre got up, washed the ghost crumbs off of his ghost dishes, and quietly phased through the back door. 

It was morning, but perhaps not as early as it should’ve been. Both Napstablook and Maddy were out for the day already. Blooky, of course, worked their job at the local grocery store that may or may not be owned by Sans, and Maddy did… Whatever it was she did most days. Something about helping Undyne “learn how to fight fire and WIN,” who knows what that meant. The fire station somehow had the funds to pay her for it though, so Mettabre wasn’t about to start complaining. There was a light breeze rustling through the trees, and Mettabre wondered if it was getting cold yet. He closed his eye, and-

“HEY! HELLO [[Valued customer!!]] DOWN HERE!!”

Mettabre was almost startled straight back through the door as a sudden voice interrupted his thoughts. Looking down, as instructed, he saw a doll. About ten inches tall, maybe. Its head and hands and nubby little legs were made of white painted wood, and its body looked to be made of soft, thick felt and not particularly well stuffed. Its lower teeth and chin seemed to be disconnected from the rest of its head, implying the mouth could be opened like a nutcracker’s, and in Mettabre’s semi-professional opinion, the paint job looked a bit sloppy. It was also standing up on its own and talking, which was a bit interesting. 

“...Are you trying to sell me something?” Mettabre asked slowly, stalling as he attempted to figure out what, exactly, was happening. His first thought was that one of his cousins was pranking him, but he doubted either of them would stoop to possessing something so ugly and unwieldy, even for a prank. There could be some other ghost in there, but Mettabre knew every ghost in town (they all, conveniently, lived in the same house) and doubted any visiting ghosts would introduce themself so… Well. First off, ghosts tended to avoid possessing smaller vessels for long periods of time, they were inconvenient, slow, hard to work with. Even if a ghost were to carry the doll over and then possess it, they certainly wouldn’t introduce themself in a vessel so temporary. That caused confusion even with other ghosts who may be used to possession in general.

“...NO.” The doll replied awkwardly. Mettabre hummed, vaguely acknowledging the response. So it wasn’t a ghost, not another type of monster, definitely. Even when monsters resembled objects, they usually had something else going on that made it clear they weren’t one. Some people assumed monsters could, say, look exactly like a mannequin… but that assumption only really existed because ghosts who found a body to fuse with and become corporeal were often quiet about what, and sometimes who, they used to be. 

Also the doll wasn’t a human. Obviously. Everyone knew what a human looked like.

“CAN I COME IN?” The doll asked, almost sounding a bit nervous. Which was fair. Mettabre didn’t know why he’d ever let some strange, ugly, unusually sentient doll into his home.

But the internet was down. And he was extremely bored. And it would be kind of funny.

“Hmmm…. Okay. Sure,” Mettabre decided, opening the door a bit to let the thing in. 

The doll’s permanent grin seemed to widen, and as they slowly stumbled their way to the door, Mettabre could hear them quietly laughing. He didn't worry too much about that. What was the worst that could happen? Haunted dolls weren't very threatening to someone who frequently haunted dolls himself. 

The pace at which the doll moved was incredibly slow and annoying though. Mettabre quietly wondered if it would be rude to pick them up, mentally calculated how long it would take for them to follow him into his room, and decided he didn't really care. 

“HEY HEY HEY!!” The doll yelled as Mettabre picked them up. “HANDS OFF THE MERCHANDISE!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Mettabre muttered, quickly making his way to his room, using the door and everything. “I'm just speeding this up a bit, you sound like my cousin.”

Looking at the doll up close, Mettabre found an opening in the back, a little pocket for a hand or paw or set of claws… They were a puppet, not a doll. Or maybe a muppet? They had legs, wasn’t a muppet a puppet with legs? Or was it just a puppet made by Jim Henson? Clearly Mettabre did not know as much about puppets as he did about dolls. 

Puppet or otherwise, the little guy settled down once Mettabre set them on his desk, slowly surveying the organized mess around them. Maybe a bit too late, Mettabre wondered if the whole setup was a bit unnerving to the puppet. There were a few dolls that had been stripped of paint and hair lying around, waiting to be remade, a few loose parts and limbs shoved into tiny drawers. Was Mettabre supposed to assume that Toy Story rules applied to all this? Was he about to get yelled at for his heinous toy altering crimes? He’d never really liked that movie.

But the puppet was looking upwards, towards the shelves on the wall holding Mettabre’s personal collection. Human dolls, monster dolls, monstrous human dolls, humanous monster dolls… Most adorned in clothes made by Mettabre himself, but some either in the outfits they came with or made by other custom makers. He was pretty proud of it, all things considered. 

“LOOK AT THAT! WHAT A [[Extensive and high quality collection!]] YOU HAVE HERE! SOME REAL [[1 Of A Kind Deals!]]”

Mettabre chuckled, admittedly a bit flattered, but also just kind of amused by the puppet’s highly animated declaration. “You have a name, dear?”

“SPAMTON G. SPAMTON! WORL’DS FIRST [[Number 1 Rated Salesman1997]]” he declared as he spun around, holding out one of his minuscule hands. Presumably to shake.

Mettabre shook the hand best he could between its size and his intangability. Spamton seemed like a terrible name for a salesman, but maybe that's why he was only number one rated salesman 1997. Such a long time ago, Mettabre had been still in high school. Such a silly little backstory for a silly little puppet. 

“I’m Mettabre,” he introduced himself simply. “Did you come here for… A paint job? What’s your deal.”

“DEAL? EVERY DEAL’S MY DEAL!” Spamton proclaimed with a laugh. “YOU WERE A FAMILIAR [[VerticallyFlippedShape]] IN AN UNFAMILIAR PLACE! AFTER ESCAPING THE [[Extra Storage]] OF THAT [[Little Sponge]] I HAPPENED TO LAND MY [[Eyeballs]] ON YOU!! WHAT [[A Limited Time Offer!]]”

Mettabre quietly processed that string of vaguely related words, casually leaning back on his work chair that he didn’t actually sit on and didn’t move with him. He was starting to realize that the more Spamton said, the less sense he made. That was fine though, he had all the time in the world to ask follow up questions. Might get annoying though. 

“I was familiar to you? Familiar how? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like you in my life.”

Spamton considered that for a bit, something Mettabre was somewhat surprised he was capable of. “WELL I’VE NEVER SEEN A [[Ghostly, Haunting Spectre]] LIKE YOU EITHER. YOU’RE NOT VERY [[Solid and stable for a guaranteed 10 years or your money back!]] FOR A LIGHTNER.”

Mettabre rolled his eyes. Oh wow, how unusual, he was a ghost, so special. Get used to it.

“BUT! THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR [[Angelic Aura]] THAT SPARKED SOME RECOGNITION IN [Big] OLD SPAMTON! AND BEING [[Lost, Lost!]] IN THE MIDDLE OF [[Heaven]], I HAD NO WHERE ELSE TO [[Run for your life!]]”

“Angelic aura.” Mettabre repeated with a frown. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“YOUR [[World Of Fantasy!]], YOUR [[Unnatural forces of the unknown...]], YOUR [[VerticallyFlippedShape]]!!!! IT HAS A [[100% Unique Fingerprint]] I’VE ENCOUNTERED BEFORE!! I’M [[Depressing]]LY SURE OF IT!”

Mettabre let out a sudden laugh as he realized what Spamton meant. “My magic?”

“BINGO! RIGHT ON THE [[KROMER]]”

“Well I don’t know why my magic would be familiar to you, but alright. If I’m just accepting everything else that's happening right now, I suppose that might make some sense,” Mettabre replied.

Spamton laughed, hinged mouth chattering wildly. “I DON’T KNOW [$!X$] EITHER! WE’RE IN THE SAME [[Tragic Tale of a Sinking Ship.]]”

Everything about Spamton was such a puzzle, and for once in Mettabre’s life, he was pretty damn invested in solving it. Maybe he just didn’t like the massive jigsaw puzzles Blooky spent many motionless hours staring at, slowly becoming invisible, before suddenly solving all at once. 

Silently going over the waning conversation in his mind, Mettabre suddenly recalled something. Spamton had called him a Lightner in his “normal” (extremely played up) voice. Not the strange, ever changing, most likely involuntary ad interjection one. While everything Spamton said seemed to be steeped in performance and danced around the truth, straight up blatantly strange or nonsensical word choice seemed to only occur as a side effect of the other voice (voices?) So, presumably, “Lightner” was a word with meaning, something fairly innocuous considering how casually he threw it around.

“You called me a Lightner,” Mettabre stated. “Is that another word for monster?” 

“LIGHT nER? YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT A [[Heavenly]] LIGHTNER IS? [[You’re our 1000th caller today!]] YOU SHOULD KNOW WHAT A GODDAMN LIGHTNER IS! MONSTERS, [[Watch Out For The Human Under Your Bed!!], GHOSTS(..?) THEY’RE ALL [@%$%]ING LIGHTNERS!”

Well, Mettabre’s conclusion that Spamton wasn’t a human or a monster didn’t seem too outrageous now, did it? 

“Well then what does that make you?”

Spamton laughed. “YOU DON’T KNOW A DARKNER WHEN YOU SEE ONE? HAVE YOU BEEN LIVING UNDER A [HOUSE AND HOME]??”

Mettabre rolled his eyes. “Okay, then where should I be seeing Darkners?” He asked. 

“JUST ABOUT! JUST ABOUT..!!!” Spamton trailed off, looking around, looking at Mettabre’s closed laptop, the dolls. Looking like he was realizing something. “WELL. I GUESS IT’S JUST ABOUT [[0 Available Locations]]. THIS ISN’T A DARK WORLD... AND THERE ARE NO [MESSY LEAKS] AROUND.”

Messy leaks. Mettabre couldn't even begin to decipher what he was trying to say with that.  The Dark World comment was notable though. Some sort of other dimension? Another plane of existence? The second one felt more accurate, it sounded like these Darkners were aware of so called Lightners- assuming Spamton wasn't a special case, of course, which he very well could be. 

“So, if this isn't the Dark World…” How did Mettabre want to phrase this? “You make it sound like Darkners only exist in the Dark World.” Oh yes, obviously. “Then why are you-” 

“OH NO, THEY STILL [[Are The Real Deal!]] HERE. THEY JUST AREN’T DARKNERS.”

So Darkners still existed in the… Light World? But not “as Darkners.” Mettabre frowned. Then what were they?

“But then you're a Darkner? Here? Currently?”

“100%!” Spamton replied cheerily, but then quickly backtracked with the closest thing he could get to a frown. “[[Sorry for the inconvenience!]] IT’S MORE LIKE 70%”

“Ok but how,” he asked. “You just said they weren't Darkners here. Like at all, I'm assuming. Because I haven't seen any others.”

“WELL I’LL BE [GLASS] WITH YOU, I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW. THE [[Hero In Shining Armor]] HAS BEEN OPENING [EVEN MORE MESSY LEAKS] ALL OVER THE PLACE! THE [[Completely Raw and Radical Energy]] OF DARKNESS IS GROWING. THE [Roaring.] MIGHT BE ON ITS WAY. I’VE BEEN [[Tired of hopping back and forth?]] BETWEEN DARK WORLDS IN THE POCKET OF THAT [[Little Sponge]]. SO I MIGHT BE EXTRA [[Call your doctor!]] TO THE GROWING DARKNESS.”

Mettabre sighed. That was a lot of words to untangle. Maybe he didn't actually like puzzles. So some knight in shining armor was… Making the Dark World leak into the Light World? And so dark magic was more powerful which allowed Spamton to manifest… Partially. And it was only Spamton manifesting because he was going between Dark Worlds (plural) and was potentially being exposed to even more of the magic? And who was the little sponge? He'd mentioned them twice now. Honestly, even if he had been more clear about that part, Mettabre probably wouldn't know them anyway, so that was relatively unimportant.

“So it's only you,” Mettabre concluded. 

“AHAHA! NO, THERE WERE LIKE 4 OTHER DARKNRS IN THAT [[Extra Storage]].” Spamton said very casually. “WE PROBABLY WON’T [[Blind date?!]] THEM THOUGH. AT LEAST I [[Pray]] NOT. I DON’T WANT TO SEE THAT [[Clown Around Town]] EVER AGAIN.”

“Right,” Mettabre replied in a completely artificial sympathetic tone, as if he knew the clown. “Alright, I think I get it now.”

“GET WHAT.” 

“You.”

“NO YOU DON’T!” Spamton argued, “NOT WITHOUT PAYMENT!”

Mettabre rolled his eye. “I understand your… Situation. Existence.”

“OH OK.” 

Spamton sat down. 

And sure. There were some loose ends. And maybe Mettabre was taking the random talking puppet at face value too much. And like, that Roaring thing kind of sounded ominous and apocalyptic. But it wasn't really his problem, so whatever.

Well. Okay. Admittedly, he would feel just a tiny bit of guilt if he didn't ask one thing. 

“Do you… Need? Want? Help getting back to the Dark World somehow?”

Spamton laughed. “NOPE! I’M FREE AS A BIRD OUT IN [[Heaven]]!”

“Hm okay. Do you wanna see the dress I made the other day?” 

“WHAT IF I SAY [[No, god, no, please!]]?”

It was strange how used to Spamton’s little voice thing Mettabre already was. He didn't even flinch at that. The canned clip of desperate pleading didn’t seem to reflect the puppet’s mood at all anyways, Mettabre was fairly used to reading limited body language. 

“I mean, now that you've asked?” Mettabre asked with a teasing smile, “I'll go find a window to drop you out of. Just for fun.”

Chapter Text

The dress that had been consuming Mettabre’s time and worry for so long now had a somewhat interesting backstory. He had actually made it with the intent of selling it from the very beginning. Mettabre was doing that Good Business Thing of making something iconic from a recently released piece of media that would please the algorithm and hopefully sell for a lot more than his usual stuff. The movie in question? The latest reboot of the classic fairytale named Romeo and Fluoriette. A human and a monster fall in love and then the human gets captured and the monster has to save him, yada yada yada. It’d been done a million times. Now, though, there was a Disney live action reboot of their beloved animated adaptation, so it was relevant again.

The actual live action reboot was… Really bad. Bad acting, bad music, bad pacing, bad dialogue. For some reason they’d even decided to push aside the most iconic song from the original with an incredibly mediocre song composed just for the reboot? Who did that! Even Napstablook got a bit annoyed about it, and Mettabre didn’t think they even really cared about old Disney movie soundtracks. 

The one redeeming aspect of Disney’s Romeo and Fluoriette (Coming to Theaters Near You July 2018!) was the costume design. Not the visuals as a whole, but the costume design. If he were being honest, Mettabre hadn’t ever really been a fan of Fluoriette’s dress in the original. It wasn’t bad, but it never really stuck out to him as something special. But in the reboot? It actually looked quite nice. Maybe a bit simple, but definitely more interesting than the original. And when Napstablook saw Mettabre’s positive reaction to it, they excitedly urged them to recreate it. And he couldn’t say no to Blooky.

So he made the dress… and then he got a bit carried away. Instead of using the large collection of glittery fabrics and shiny threads he already owned in order to mimic the many shimmering gemstones sewn onto the dress in the original, he had decided to individually sew hundreds of tiny beads onto his replica for accuracy's sake, or something like that. He kind of forgot halfway through, probably because it took him like ten times longer than he thought it would. 

And it worked! It was absolutely worth it, the dress looked stunning, Mettabre just never wanted to do something like that ever again. Which, of course, started to make him question why he was selling something he had spent so much time and effort making in the first place. Didn't he deserve to keep it?

And yes, his collection was already quite extensive, and yes, he already had a few dresses in similar baby blues, but he had (entirely unintentionally) put his entire metaphorical heart and fairly literal soul into it! 

He had put it up anyways, that had been the intention in the beginning, after all. He decided he didn't need to completely stress out over his indecisiveness. He could always take the listing down, right?

Yeah. One would think that. The internet went down just five minutes after the listing went up.

Well, at least without being able to check the status of the dress he could pretend like it wasn't all up in the air. For all he knew at that moment, it was and would forever be his dress. If he never saw it he’d never know! 

But Spamton didn’t need to know all that drama.

“Here it is!” Mettabre announced as he brought the doll currently wearing the dress down from its spot on his shelves. He should've known he'd want to keep the dress, he made it so it could fit the standard humanoids in his favorite doll line!

“HEY!” Spamton exclaimed as he examined the dress. “NOW THAT’S ONE [[Eye searingly bright]] PIECE OF FABRIC RIGHT THERE! YOU COULD SELL THAT [[For quite the pretty penny!]]”

Mettabre laughed. “Actually, that's kind of my problem.”

Spamton stood there silently for a good ten seconds. “...WHAT?”

“I put up a listing for it a few days ago but then decided I want to keep it. But because the internet went down I haven't been able to unlist it. Really enthralling stuff,” Mettabre explained, sarcasm dripping from his last words. He really did lead a boring life considering how much energy he had put into thinking about it all.

“SO YOU… DON’T WANT TO [[Sell now, sell big!]] IT.” Spamton said slowly, like he couldn't even imagine that.

Mettabre smirked. “I don't! Not at all. You learn so much about the world by being friends with me.”

Spamton laughed. “YOU HAVE A [[Pins and needles]]! VERY TRUE, MY ESTEEMED [[Friend Request Accepted]]!”

How funny, now they were both prematurely calling each other friends. Presumably for different reasons, it seemed like Spamton was perpetually stuck in trying-to-sell-something mode and Mettabre had just made an exaggerated joke, but still. 

“So, friend, do you wanna see something cool?”

Spamton's eyebrows raised (or did he just tilt his head up a bit..?) “DO I? OF COURSE I DO! I LOVE [Blood spilling, dust collecting] ENTERTAINMENT!”

Mettabre grinned. He hadn't been able to show off his skills to anyone other than his cousins in, well... ever, really. And what else did you do with a sentient puppet? Mettabre certainly didn't know!

Mettabre carefully set the doll wearing the dress down on his desk in a sitting position. He closed his eye and began to focus his magic, his hopes, his dreams, onto the plane of the physical. He reached out for the doll and paused, suddenly realizing something. His eye snapped back open and fixed a look upon Spamton. 

“Um. Just to be clear, I'm a man,” Mettabre said awkwardly. And his cousins wondered why he never got out. Somehow he’d forgotten it wasn’t obvious, and fuck, he really wished it was! Ghosts just… really did not have many options when it came to gender expression. Or fashion in general. He looked like a goddamn sheet draped over a particularly large and invisible rubber ball.

And sure, it wasn’t like he looked exactly like his cousins, and it wasn’t like there was absolutely nothing he could do to alter his ghostly appearance at all. Napstablook had their signature solemn, long face, Maddy had her perpetual little cheshire grin, and Mettabre was missing his right eye! Arguably, he was the most distinct out of all of them. Amazing. Showstopping. Innovative. Unique.

What was he doing again?

Oh yeah. Possessing a doll with a dress on it. Which was a traditionally feminine article of clothing. Right, that's why he had been worried. 

“HAEAHAEAHAEAH, [[Absolutely Fan-tastic!!]] I LOVE MEN.”

Mettabre laughed, he hadn’t expected Spamton to… come out as well? If that's what that was? He gave the puppet one last highly amused smile before finally letting his soul rush into his doll. 

And it was his doll. The one he possessed the most, the one that he'd made to look the most like he might want to. He'd put in and styled the jet black shimmering hair, parted neatly so that it covered his missing eye, he'd repainted the face, repaired some of the joints, made too many outfits for the thing… If only it wasn't a doll. Maybe if he had a life size body that looked like it and also had realistic articulation right down to the fingers he wouldn't have so many issues. 

Dolls were not made to walk on their own, to dance, but there had been lots of time for Mettabre to learn. And he wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was nice to finally be able to show off his skills to someone who wasn't related to him. Not that he didn't like showing his cousins, but they'd already seen it a million times. Plus, they were also ghosts. They already knew how possession worked. It wasn’t exactly a novelty to them.

Mettabre stood up slowly, easing himself into the feeling of having limbs that didn't just exist when he needed to grab something or gesture dramatically. He could, technically, just float himself into an upright position, but where was the fun in that? It was still a difficult process though; despite how nice the articulation of the doll was, it was still quite stiffer than most living bodies. 

When he was finally standing, Mettabre flashed a grin at Spamton, the painted (not sculpted!) mouth of the doll responding to his wishes without issue. Spamton himself gave a little wave, and from the perspective of the doll, Mettabre got to see just how oddly proportioned he was. Spamton's head was now almost terrifyingly huge, especially since he stood taller than Mettabre’s doll.

Mettabre shook his (doll’s) head slightly. He didn’t possess the doll to realize how terrifying Spamton could be. No, he was there to give a performance.

He started by brushing his hands against the sides of the dress’s skirt, he couldn’t grab it, pull it up, but this would do. He did a mocking little curtsey, smirking at the audience (which was just Spamton, but better than nothing), and then started to dance.

To call it a dance was, admittedly, a bit of a stretch. The routine was something Mettabre had practiced many times by himself, mostly just to test his balance and precision. There was no music (he belatedly realized that he very well could’ve put music on, but the window for that was already closed), and his movements were slow and dramatic. 

It was the closest Mettabre had gotten to his long abandoned dream. There were only two eyes on him, he was just possessing a doll, but it was… Nice. More than he expected out of his life anymore. Good enough.

Spamton clapped when Mettabre finished, kind of a pathetic sound considering his hands were just two tiny wooden nubs. But Mettabre appreciated it, and also he laughed, because it was funny. Tearing his soul away from the doll, he sat back at his chair he didn’t need.

“So, what did you think?”

“IT WAS GREAT! YOU [[100% Money Back Guaranteed!]] HAVE TALENT! YOUR [[Level 5 Charisma]] ALMOST MATCHES MY OWN, HAEAHAEAHAEAH!!”

Mettabre rolled his eye with a breathy chuckle. He would’ve hoped he had more charisma than an extremely unnerving puppet salesman, but he’d take what he’d get. 

Spamton paused, turning to look Mettabre in the eye. “...You ever thought about performing?”

Mettabre blinked at the sudden… sincerity? Seriousness? In Spamton’s voice. And it was his voice, not one of the myriad of others that frequently replaced it. His front had seemed to disappear though, and despite the question being fairly innocent, Mettabre felt like something had been rummaging around in his soul.

“EHEHA, NEVERMIND!” Spamton said, turning away. He probably spotted the disconcernment on Mettabre’s face. “WHERE WERE WE..?”

Mettabre shrugged, pushing aside whatever just happened. “Not really anywhere, I mean, I had just finished up my little... thing, you were complimenting me, the usual.”

“RIGHT,” Spamton nodded, gaze drifting towards the doll. “SAY, THAT [[Find Affordable Wedding Dresses Here!]] LOOKS A BIT FAMILIAR.”

Mettabre hummed, “I did base it off of something in a movie. With my own spin, of course, but it’s still recognizable,” he paused. “Unless you feel the same way about it as you did with me..?”

Spamton laughed. “HAH! NO, I JUST FEEL LIKE I’VE [[Click to View]]ED IT... I THINK ONE OF MY [[Esteemed]] SIBLINGS WAS SELLING SOMETHING LIKE IT? ON THAT MANNEQUIN THAT LOOKS LIKE [[Your Friend Sampton!]]”

“Did it look good?” Mettabre asked with a smirk. 

“NOTHING EVER LOOKS GOOD ON THAT DAMN [[Free Replacement Part]]!! A SHAME!”

“Well, would you want to see what it’d look like on the real thing?”

Maddy was home early. Mettabre felt her phasing into their house just a bit past two, a subtle shift in the pressure of the magic that kept Mettabre from being completely in the dark about who was where. Extremely helpful in a household where no one really used doors.

Mettabre and Spamton had just been in the middle of a little game of “what clothes made to fit a very particular type of doll will also fit a fucked up little puppet?” It was going incredibly well. But with Maddy’s return, Mettabre put it on pause, leaving Spamton floundering in a long, dark blue robe Mettabre had made for a realistically large boss monster doll. He seemed to be okay with the mess, so Mettabre didn't bother starting the long process of taking the thing off before phasing out of his room.

“You're home early,” Mettabre commented, watching as Maddy attempted to find something in the fridge.

“So?” Maddy grumbled. “You ask that as if this doesn't happen like, twice a week! Did you eat my leftovers from last night??”

Mettabre hummed. “I don't know, what were they?”

Maddy turned to glare at Mettabre.

“I’m messing with you, I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Mettabre said with a laugh, floating past his cousin and joining her in her fridge raiding before she could reprimand him. 

“Wait, is the internet back up?” Maddy asked, sounding a bit hopeful. Even though she wasn't as online as Mettabre or Napstablook, she hadn't been laughing at their panic for long before the outage caught up to her. 

Mettabre shrugged. “I don't think so, but also I haven't checked in a couple hours.”

Maddy frowned in thought, glancing at Mettabre as she prepared herself a ghost sandwich. “Well what the hell have you been doing that’s distracted you so much? I thought you ran out of things to do two days ago!”

“...Is it that unbelievable that I just found something to pass the time?”

“Yes. Yes! YES! You've been complaining about there being nothing to do sooo much!” Maddy’s eyes widened suddenly as she realized something, mouth curling into a smile. “You're hiding something!”

Mettabre frowned. He wasn’t really hiding anything, it wasn't like Spamton was a secret, he just… didn’t want to attempt to explain it all. Or whatever. But nothing he could say about it would stop Maddy from phasing into his room, so he just made sure to follow her.

“What IS that??” Maddy asked, staring at Spamton, who was currently wearing a wizard’s robe made for a doll about twice his size. The hood made it over his massive head, at least. 

Spamton rattled on about being a salesman and a Darkner and all that, not really making much sense and many of his words getting replaced. Was he nervous? Mettabre couldn't quite tell. 

“Um…” Mettabre started, trying to decide if butting against Maddy’s impatience was worth telling her the weird and unbelievable truth that might not even be the truth. “I think he's some sort of gerbil.”

Did Mettabre really know what a gerbil is? Well, he knew that Maddy probably didn't know any better than him, and that's all that mattered.

“Well have fun playing dress up with a little rodent I guess!?” Maddy exclaimed, not really sounding like she knew how to react. “Uh, Undyne said the internet would be back up sometime today or maybe tomorrow before she ran off putting out barbecues. Okay bye!”

With that, Maddy floated up to her room, which was conveniently located right above Mettabre’s. Which meant things like that happened often. Mettabre just sighed and sat down, slowly beginning to eat the ghost fruit he pulled out of the fridge.

“WAS THAT YOUR COUSIN?”

Mettabre hummed in agreement at Spamton’s question. “She's one of them.”

There was an awkward pause. “...I HAVE [[A perfect gift for your extended family!]] TOO. ER, NO, [[That one wacky family reunion.]]. YOU KNOW.”

“Cousins?”

“THAT.”

“Uh, nice,” Mettabre replied. “Cousins are nice… Unless they aren't, y'know.”

The conversation dropped off into an awkward silence. That was fine, Mettabre was eating something. 

Once Mettabre finished his apple, Spamton immediately tried again. 

“SHOULD WE CHECK IF THE [World Wide Web] IS BACK?”

Mettabre shrugged, opening his laptop. After fiddling around a bit, it was pretty obvious that the internet was still down. Spamton looked especially crestfallen about that, which made Mettabre wonder what in the world he wanted internet access for. 

“We could play Minecraft?” Mettabre offered. He wasn't much of a gamer, but he sure did own Minecraft. 

“MINECRAP?!? THAT’S A GAME FOR [[Children 3 and Under]]”

Strategically avoiding asking what Spamton had against Minecraft of all games, Mettabre started going through the list of preinstalled computer games he was struggling to remember. 

“Well I also have Mine sweeper, Solitaire, Sudoku… Junior Jumble.”

“HAEAHAEA, HEY! MY [Former husband] WAS A CARD, SO THAT MAKES ME SOLITAIRE-Y!!!”

Mettabre stared at Spamton. “That was a really bad joke. I want you to know that.” 

“SORRY??” Spamton replied, looking a bit confused. 

Mettabre rolled his eye. “It's fine, I just can't tell if you said it because you actually want to play Solitaire.”

“RIGHT. YES, I DO.”

Playing Solitaire with someone else kind of defeated the purpose, but it was fun. Mettabre hadn't played in years, not since those high school “chess club” meetings where most of the kids just played go fish and checkers. He hadn’t ever owned a pack of cards, and if Spamton hadn't been vehemently against the idea of playing Minecraft, Mettabre doubted he’d ever think to open up Solitaire the computer game. 

It was nostalgic, Mettabre realized. He didn't usually look back on his high school days with any sort of fondness, but the chess club had been genuinely fun. At first, he had only really gone because Blooky didn't want to go alone, but it had been such an interesting group of students Mettabre didn't typically interact with. He wondered if the club was still going these days… Probably not.

“You said your ex was a card?” Mettabre asked after exiting a particularly annoying unsolvable round. “Which one?”

Spamton gave Mettabre a curious glance. “HE WAS A [[Notorious Clown and Entertainer]]. I SHOULD’VE [[BET ON MY LIFE!]] IT WOULDN’T WORK OUT.”

Clown card? Which card was-

“Oh, wait, jester. Right.” Mettabre said out loud, only vocalizing half of his thought process, just to be more confusing. “Yeah, I think that might be on you.”

But it did seem to confirm Mettabre’s interpretation of Spamton's earlier comment. There were Darkners who were also playing cards. What a concept! He kind of wanted to steal it. 

“...Would it be weird if I started designing playing card inspired custom dolls?”

“WHY WOULD THAT BE [[Strange And Shocking]]?”

Mettabre hummed, starting to rummage around for his sketchbook. “No reason! Don't you worry about it.”

“OK!” Spamton replied, his curiosity apparently completely sated. 

It didn't take long for Mettabre to realize that “dolls based off of cards” was a much more open ended concept than he initially thought. His first sketches were just messy little attempts at figuring out how the king of diamonds’ robes worked, but as he stared at the little card in the Solitaire game and then back at his mediocre attempts at replication, he realized something. The classic designs of the nobles on face cards really had nothing setting them apart from any other standard medieval nobles. The only thing that really identified them as The Face Cards From The Famous Game Cards was the style they were drawn in, which would not translate well across the two mediums. 

“Do you think I’d be going overboard if I made a whole custom deck of cards to go along with this?” Mettabre asked suddenly. He was doing exactly what he hadn't wanted to do before the internet turned back on, starting a large project without knowing if he had gotten commissioned at all in the last few days. But his gears were already turning, the ideas were coming in fast, and he wasn't stupid enough to abandon a good idea when he had one. 

Spamton gave the question some thought. “WELL, I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH [[Precious, precious time!]] IT WOULD TAKE, BUT IF YOU THINK IT’S WORTH IT, I SAY [[Go For The Gold!]]”

To be completely honest, Mettabre was expecting Spamton to be unthinkingly supportive of the idea. In a way, his incredibly unhelpful reply was kind of nice to hear. It made his earlier complements seem a bit more genuine. But it was also clear that Mettabre would need a second opinion. So he smiled and nodded in a way he hoped seemed appreciative and then phased out of his room. 

Maddy and Napstablook were casually floating in the front room, conversation drifting off as Mettabre appeared. He decided not to address the awkward looks the two had on their faces that probably meant they were talking about him. 

“Blooky!” Mettabre exclaimed, ignoring the bitter curiosity that currently rolled around in his soul. “I'm so glad you're home, I wanted to ask you something.”

Clearly Mettabre's discomfort wasn't hard to glean from how artificially positive he had been, because Napstablook shot Maddy a look before making their way to him. Maddy herself just shrugged and turned away, beginning to write something in a notebook. 

“hi metta,” Napstablook said, the small, apologetic smile on their face almost enough to make Mettabre forget about the awkwardness. “...what did you want to ask?

Mettabre quickly explained his idea and his dilemma. “I wanted to see what you thought, you know, as a fellow creator,” he emphasized.

“ooooh…. well i don't….” Napstablook shook their head slightly, starting over. “no…..  um, actually. what will making the custom cards…… do? will they just be in the background or……”

Mettabre smiled to himself. That was a good question. He knew going to Blooky was a good idea. “Well, I was thinking of making the custom deck to sort of solidify the aesthetic for the rest of the project. I'll use the standard suits and ranks of the face cards and everything, but I realized the default designs are kind of… Boring. So if I base it off a custom set, it’ll be a bit more distinctive.”

Napstablook nodded. “well, i think if you're um……. designing the dolls on the cards? I guess? i think that'd be worth it…. and uh, maybe you could just do the face cards to save time? i don't know….”

“No, that's good!” Mettabre said, smile growing. “That's a really smart way to go about it, I think I'll go to the Librarby to print out some reference soon,” he continued, slowly moving back towards his room as he spoke. “Thank you!”

Napstablook briefly glanced back at Maddy and then reached out to Mettabre, gently stopping him with their magic. “um, before you do that…… maddy told me you found a… gerbil??”

Oh. That's all they had been talking about. “Yeah his name is uh, Spamton. I… Saved him from the elements.”

“she also told me he talked…… and was bipedal….. and had no fur............”

Of course Napstablook actually knew what a gerbil was. That was why Mettabre didn't like lying to them, it was really easy to forget that they just knew things. The guilt wasn't great either. 

“Alright! You caught me!” Mettabre admitted with a dramatic sigh. “I lied to Maddy because I didn't want to tell her the annoyingly complex, unbelievable and hard to explain truth.”

Napstablook didn't look too amused. “soooo…… would you be willing to tell me?”

Mettabre rolled his eye. “Of course Blooky, you're my favorite and also you aren't likely to just leave in the middle of my explanation.”

They didn't react to that, so Mettabre took a completely fake deep breath and explained that Spamton was a Darkner and what he understood that to mean in the simplest way he could.

“oh……… ok. well i believe you.” Napstablook said after considering the information just a bit. “the gerbil thing was a lot more confusing.”

Mettabre couldn't believe how easy that was. Except, wait, yes he could. He had accepted the situation just as casually, it had just taken a lot more piecing together. It was certainly a fantastical, magical thing he'd stumbled on, but it was fairly easy to believe in beings from another plane when you yourself kind of already existed on a separate plane that consisted of the energy that held monsters together and were able to wield that magical energy in ways most monsters wouldn’t think was possible. Being ghosts had given them both a strange sort of advantage. Mettabre never thought he'd be admitting something like that. 

“Right, yes. I'm sorry I doubted you, dear.” Mettabre apologized, sighing wistfully. “I really should've just told Maddy, I know you hate how often we clash.”

Napstablook gave him a strange look. “just don't… beat yourself up about it, ok? go work on the uh… doll cards.”

Mettabre smiled. It was easy to forget they were the eldest sometimes, but occasionally it became very obvious. “Alright, will do.”

Once he got back to it, Mettabre's excitement for his project steadily came back, which was a relief. Guilt spirals were kind of counterproductive. Because the internet was still down, he was screenshotting the cards from Solitaire and then arranging them on a Photoshop document. It wouldn't be the prettiest thing to print, but it was just a reference in the end. He saved it all onto a flash drive and almost just left the house right there and then. 

“HEY HEY HEY! WHERE ARE YOU [[Off to a new adventure?]]”

Mettabre hadn't forgotten about Spamton, he hadn't! He just had a whole conversation about the guy! He just forgot Spamton couldn’t hear his conversation with Napstablook. That was all. 

“Library. I, unfortunately, do not own a printer. Wanna come?”

Spamton held his arms up. “[ABSOLUTELY!]”

Mettabre nodded, grabbed the puppet, and left his room.

“Hey, hey! HEY!”

Mettabre winced. Could he not just leave the house without everyone suddenly becoming incredibly interested in what he was doing? He turned around to find Maddy handing him a piece of paper that had been hastily ripped out of her notebook.

“I heard you were going to the Librarby~” She said with a sweet smile. “Could you put this up on the Teenz-Own board for me?”

Mettabre smiled. “Of course, anything for my favorite teenager.”

Maddy’s smile fell. “Shut UP! I’m pretty sure Anonymous Lizard isn’t a teenager either. It’s PERFECTLY fine to have long winded arguments with them.”

“Long winded arguments about a character from an anime you haven’t even seen.”

Maddy perked up. “Actually! I HAVE watched a few episodes now!! It’s really bad!”

Mettabre laughed. “Alright, I’ll put up your rant.” He didn’t really mind the whole pinboard argument, after all, somehow making up random stuff about a random anime character to mess with someone had helped her realize a lot of gender things? He had absolutely no standing to judge with his whole doll collection of gender envy. 

Maddy left for her room, seemingly satisfied with the arrangement, and Mettabre was finally free to leave.

It was pretty late, which was good for Mettabre. He never went to the Librarby when there were other people there. Sure, maybe that was “breaking in,” but it wasn’t like he ever stole anything. It was illegal like pirating a Disney movie was illegal, it hurt no one and he felt no remorse. 

But usually he didn’t have to pick the lock. Unlike the flash drive, Spamton was not small enough to just slide under the door. It wasn’t like picking the lock was hard, but it made things feel a bit less… Harmless. Not like the lock was a person, but! Mettabre just hurried Spamton through and took them both to the computer lab. He had no time for guilt.

Usually, Mettabre’s vision was exceptional in the dark, being a ghost and all. But the computer lab… it was really, really dark. It was night. The lights weren’t on. It wasn’t too unusual. But still, it set Mettabre on edge, having to feel for one of the computers. He set Spamton down and hovered around slowly, waiting for something, anything to collide with his intangible body. 

“HEY! HEY WAIT, I KNOW THIS!” 

Mettabre turned at the sound of Spamton’s voice. “What are you talking about? What do you know?” 

“THE KNIGHT RETURNED! [[It reopened this tear!]]”

Before Mettabre could begin to decipher that statement, he started involuntary sinking into the floor, quickly accelerating down and down and down and-

Oh, I’m falling. I didn't know I could fall. He thought. He felt like his soul was being squeezed through a pasta maker. And as he fell, fell, fell into the dark, his mind went blank.

Chapter Text

Mettabre woke up feeling strange. Well, ‘strange’ was actually a fairly mild way to put it. It took him a full minute just to comprehend how fundamentally different he felt. He was possessing… Something. He didn't remember actively deciding to possess anything, which was mildly concerning, but there wasn’t really anything he could do about that. He wasn't in one of his dolls, not even close. His current vessel was much larger, much more complex, much better, honestly. After the confusion that came from waking in a body he had never chosen to inhabit settled down, he… Felt alright. Good, he might even dare to say. With how picky he was when it came to bodies he could possess, that was a fairly novel feeling. He hoped the vessel looked alright too, he didn't mind it. He didn't want to mind it. So he opened his eye. 

First thing Mettabre saw was an inky black sky. He didn't know what he'd expected, but he had sort of hoped it'd be day. He moved his vessel experimentally, attempting to orient himself within something he had never seen before. The body seemed to be humanoid, which was a relief. Mettabre had plenty of practice with standing and walking on two legs and the like. He pushed himself upright, getting the first glimpses of himself. 

White gloves, arms sheathed in metal plates painted a nice purple, machinery peeking out at the joints, long, long legs. Even just sitting up, he could tell he- his vessel- was tall.

And it was familiar. It took him a bit, he wasn't used to having a first person view of it, and he certainly wasn't used to having it be real. As soon as he realized, though, he almost wondered how he hadn't recognized it immediately.

It was his dream body. In the flesh, or, well. Metal. 

A voice from behind Mettabre startled him out of his wonder. 

“I should've known I was following around an Angel.”

Mettabre whirled around and saw Spamton looking right back up at him. He really should've guessed that's who it was from his voice alone. Despite being instantly recognizable as Spamton, he looked very, very different. He was larger, first of all. Instead of being a hand puppet, he was now… Well, Mettabre’s lack of depth perception wasn't doing him any favors, but he was clearly at least a few feet tall. He looked to be made entirely out of smooth, polished wood, body no longer stuffed. His hands had fingers, his limbs had joints, and his closed eyes could clearly move behind his two tone glasses. His hair was now proper synthetic hair, no longer just sculpted out of the same chunk of wood as his head. He looked like he had walked straight out of a horror movie, but Mettabre could confidently say that he looked to be a work of fine craftsmanship. A beautiful, terrifying, ventriloquist’s dummy with a voice of his own. Who just had said something quite strange. 

“...What?” Mettabre asked, pushing aside his rambling thoughts about Spamton's construction.

“OH, UH. I DIDN’T MEAN FOR YOU TO [[Hear Me Loud And Clear!]].” Spamton answered, looking a bit embarrassed. He was a lot easier to read, Mettabre noted. “I WAS JUST THINKING OUT LOUD. IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS WHY I [[Recognized Your Beautiful Face!]] NOW! EHE…”

Mettabre frowned (or at least it felt like he did- for all he knew the body lacked a face). Why did possessing a body that had only ever existed as a sloppy little concept drawing he drew almost entirely with the line tool when he was 16 make him more recognizable to Spamton? How did he know about it?

“How am I any more recognizable like this.” Mettabre asked, voice flat, guarded.

Spamton sighed, made a noise adjacent to clearing one's throat, and then spoke. Slowly, carefully, much more quiet than he usually was.

“Years back, a… version of that robot, I guess you could say, was built by the Queen’s head butler. It was the representation of a Lighter’s dream, and the dream gave it an immense power.” Spamton paused, glancing up. “...Is it safe to assume the lightner was you?”

Mettabre frowned, refraining from asking how, why Spamton's voice was suddenly so… normal. But he had been asked a question, he should at least answer first. 

“I mean, I don't know who else it could possibly be, but it's not like I really shared the concept around, I… Who's the head butler? How did they know? Can Darkners read minds, or something?”

“THE HEAD BUTLER!” Spamton exclaimed, though he didn't really sound excited. “THAT [[Easel]]’S ONE [[Exclusive Specil]] IF I’VE EVER SEEN ONE. WON’T LEAVE A [[Dangerous]] GUY TO DO HIS [[Dirty scams]] IN PEACE..! OH, AND IF IT [HELP, HELP!]S, THEIR NAME IS SWATCH.”

Swatch… Swatch. It was a word Mettabre recognized, of course, but despite its fairly uninteresting definition, he was sure it was some sort of clue. He hadn't told anyone about the body’s specific look, hadn't shown anyone the drawing he had made… The drawing he had made in the Librarby computer lab with the dinky little default drawing program. Which was called SwatchCanvas. 

“Oh, I'm an idiot,” Mettabre murmured. “Of course they knew what it looked like. They… Helped me make it, I suppose.”

With Swatch the Darkner and SwatchCanvas the computer program being one in the same, the answers to Mettabre’s questions about what Darkners were starting to feel within reach. Swatch was a computer program, Spamton had dated a playing card, and maybe Spamton was… Actual spam. As in the digital phenomenon, not the food. He had no firm conclusions just yet, but a pattern was coming together. Slowly but surely. 

Spamton nodded, unaware of Mettabre’s realizations. “THAT’S WHAT THEY [[Constantly, endlessly!]] SAID. I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH I EVER [Better believe]D THAT. ANYWAYS! BACK TO THE [[3-Movie Collection]]!! I MEAN- I mean story, sorry.”

Mettabre just nodded. It was nice that Spamton seemed to be able to convey things in a more straightforward way, but Mettabre was used to pulling meaning from his jumbled words at that point. 

“As the robot was being built, it was displayed in the center of the Queen’s mansion. At the time, the Cyber World was young, and there are always… doubts when a new Dark World manifests. So the robot was strung up to prove that we were fulfilling our purpose. It was so powerful, so full of hope. It was contagious, I guess you could say. At the time, I was living at the mansion for uh, reasons, so I saw it daily. But then, a few years after it had been made, the hope just… Left. Swatch stopped working on it, they said they couldn’t, not without the Lightner.” Spamton glanced up at Mettabre, searching for a reaction. There wasn’t much of one.

“Well,” Mettabre started, “Well. I did give up on it. That was something that happened.”

“AH… BUT IT WAS GOING [So, So Well!]... WASN’T IT?” Spamton asked.

Mettabre huffed. “I mean, maybe it was here,” they were in the Dark World, right? That’s what had happened? “But in the Light World, it was just a silly little doodle. A silly little doodle and a surface level obsession with robotics. It was the 90’s, you know. Technology was progressing so fast- and I guess it still is, but… It seemed much more possible back then. A possibility that a robot like that could exist. Maybe because I was so young, maybe because it was before everything started to seem bleak. And, of course, I hadn’t grasped it at the time, but just because something is technologically possible, just because robots were learning to walk better, just because they were getting lighter… It doesn’t mean any of it will ever be accessible to me anytime soon. I mean, fuck! It’s been a few decades, they have those insane little all-terrain robot dogs now! Light years ahead of what existed back then. But they don’t make robots for dysphoric ghosts with extremely specific tastes, they make robots to sell to the military. And realizing that! Realizing that felt like the end of the world! I was a mess- do you know how upset I was when I found out the Daft Punk guys are just humans in costumes?? I refused to listen to their music for like, a month! And on top of that, ghosts can't even go on HRT, we don't have hormones!”

Mettabre's rant trailed off and he sighed. Spamton was looking around awkwardly, and Mettabre didn't blame him. 

“I’M… SORRY,” Spamton said. “I DIDN’T REALIZE HOW [[Utterly Different!]] IT WAS UP THERE.”

Mettabre waved off his concern. “It's fine, it's not a huge deal anymore. I’ve been around for 37 years, you don't get that far without a few reliable coping mechanisms.”

“...RIGHT,” Spamton replied uneasily. Of course he hadn’t bought that.

Mettabre perked up, determined to leave all of the depressing backstory shit behind. “And look at me! I made it! It's real! Turns out all I needed to do was come here.”

“TRUE! NOW YOU JUST NEED TO [[Never escape this special hell]]! HAEAHAEAH!!”

Mettabre smiled. “That's the spirit!” He looked around the ‘special hell,’ properly taking in the expansive maze of green platforms in front of him. “...Do you know if there are any, er, reflective surfaces nearby?” He really, really needed to see his face. And the rest of himself, properly.

Spamton nodded and scampered along the platform they’d fallen onto. Though he was a good bit taller in his more complete form, as Mettabre stood, the robot’s height made Spamton look almost as small as he had been before. Which was funny. For once, Mettabre was thankful for Spamton’s short legs; it allowed him time to get used to walking in a new body. Technically, the robot was easier to walk in than his dolls, it had better balance even with heels, but Mettabre was very used to the miniscule weight and the stiffness and the range of mobility of his dolls, and… Well. He didn't fall. But the first steps he took were very small and his movements were fairly erratic. If Spamton noticed, he didn't say anything. 

Soon enough, the two arrived in front of a powered off screen floating alongside the platform. It was reflective enough, Mettabre wasn't really expecting a mirror or anything. 

Mettabre’s face was… Pretty much perfect, at least in his eye. A thin but prominent nose, sharp jawline, yada yada yada. Admittedly, after so many years of working with dolls, Mettabre's attention was turned more towards the mechanics of it all. His face was primarily a solid sheet of contoured metal that was only interrupted by a few moving bits and some fittingly robotic lines etched into it. His good eye was mostly just an eye-shaped void with a large white light that acted as his iris and a black piece of plastic working as an eyelid. His eyebrow moved via a row of tiny pistons that were cleverly hidden behind it, allowing for a surprisingly versatile range of positions. About two thirds of the way down his chin on both sides, the metal gave way completely to some sort of flexible silicon substance around the mouth, allowing him to pull some outrageous faces that showed off metal teeth and a just as flexible tongue. While the left side of his face was what one would expect, the metal plating on the right side was nearly nonexistent; a smooth, exact cut exposed the partially hollow inside of his head where the eye mechanisms rested. Where his missing eye would have been there was a bright, flickering pinpoint of light. Which honestly looked pretty badass. Though the structure of the face in general was somewhat reminiscent of the face of his favorite doll (with a bit of robotic flair, of course), the hairstyle was something else entirely. Instead of straight, chin length locks that covered his missing eye and did things like obey the laws of gravity, the synthetic hair of the robot had been stylized heavily, swept up away from his face into a spiky haircut that almost looked a bit too much like he was in cosplay. At least the hair was just black. He honestly couldn't really remember if that detail had been in the original doodle.

Because, interestingly, there were things that were clearly not derived from that doodle he made as a teen. It had definitely been the base for the body especially, but the shape of the face clearly came from his much more recent endeavors with dolls. The colors were a bit less all over the place- still bold, still a bit tacky, but thankfully whatever mysterious force had made the robot had learned that he was no longer denying the fact that his favorite color was pink.

In the center triangular plane on his chest plate there was a screen, one of those ones where you could see the individual LEDs from a distance. It showed an upside-down white heart, slowly bobbing in time with the thrum of his magic. His soul, presumably, though just a depiction of it. He had no idea where that specific detail came from, it hadn't ever been a concept he had for any of his many creative pursuits over the years. 

“THE ONE AT THE MANSION HAD [[Hot Wild Wings!]]” Spamton commented. “IT WAS A LOT [BIG]ER TOO. TOWERED OVER [Every man, woman and child]], NOT JUST ME!”

Mettabre shrugged. “I mean, there's being tall, and then there's being so tall that it's a major inconvenience... And do you mean it had literal wings?”

“YES! IT COULDN’T [Fly Free Like A Bird] THOUGH, TRUST ME, I-- ER… NEVERMIND.”

Being a gracious and kind friend, Mettabre held out on any probing questions about whatever embarrassing robot flying story had almost got out of Spamton. Instead, he pulled his awareness back into the internal mechanisms of the robot for a second, looking for any switches he missed. Sure enough, like he had suddenly learned to wiggle the ears he had never had, he switched on the bright lights hidden under the robot’s pauldrons. An original concept from the doodle, though one Swatch must've misinterpreted.

“[[?!#$]] THAT’S [BLINDING]!” Spamton yelled, reaching up to cover his tinted shades and still-closed eyes. Must've really been bright. 

Mettabre laughed and turned the lights off. They would probably drain the batteries anyway… If running out of power was even something he had to worry about. He couldn't be too sure, it hadn’t been too long.

“You were wondering where the wings were,” Mettabre pointed out. “Now you know.”

“REMIND ME TO NEVER [Frequently Ask Questions] AGAIN.” Spamton grumbled, but Mettabre could see hints of a smile. It helped that his smile wasn't a permanent fixture anymore.

“If you say so,” Mettabre replied airily, getting lost in thought, staring at his own reflection. Who would've thought. “...You think I should change up my name a bit? Just a little… Mettabre is just such a ghost name.” And while he liked the name, he didn't like the idea that it might give away his origins. He wouldn't say that part out loud though. 

“METTABRE NEO!” Spamton declared, before realizing which part of the name made it ghostly. “METTA…TRON? NEO?” 

Metta hummed. “NEO was what I named the file for that doodle all those years back,” he recalled. It was interesting that the name had carried over somehow. “But it's been a while, I'm not quite the same person. And from what you've said, this isn't quite the same robot. Maybe… RENEO? I'm coming back to it, trying again.” He paused, nodding to himself. It sounded pretty badass, actually. “Also, if we're going to use a suffix like that, it should probably be -ton instead of -tron.” He wouldn't mention the fact that he'd already come up with that part much earlier.

Spamton laughed. “SPAMTON AND METTATON! WE [[Match made in heaven]]!!”

“Oh, I came up with Mettaton years back,” he replied with a chuckle, attempting to sound slightly amused and not dizzy at the implication that he had named himself after Spamton. Apparently admitting that he'd daydreamed about ending up in a robot body so much that he had names picked out was less embarrassing than that.

“STILL! CAN’T DENY IT’S A [[Fun and educational]] COINCIDENCE!”

Mettaton rolled his eye with a smile. “It sure is.”

“Is this place always so desolate?”

Finding a way to Cyber City from any particular place in the Cyber Fields wasn't too challenging, one generally had to just go in the direction of the skyscrapers, but still, the Fields were often fairly maze-like and the teacups could be dangerous if you weren't used to them, so Spamton figured his guidance was worth slowing down their progress a bit with his shorter stride. 

“USUALLY THERE ARE A FEW [[Sockets and extension cords]],” Spamton explained, “MAYBE SOME [[High Quality Sound Systems]], BUT [[Everyone in the world!]] LEFT WITH THE LIGHTNERS TO CASTLE TOWN.”

Though Mettaton was behind him, the silence Spamton got in return for his words let him know what his friend’s face looked like without him needing to turn. It hadn't been too confusing, right? Mettaton didn't really need to know what Plugboys were called to understand what he had said. Perhaps the Dark World was as reality shattering and rule breaking to Mettaton as the Light World was for him. Or maybe he just projected too much. 

“Everyone left? Like, as in everyone on these platforms or is everyone in the city gone too?” Mettaton finally asked.

“WE ARE [[The last ones standing]] IN THE CYBER WORLD RIGHT NOW.”

The click-clack of Mettaton’s heels stopped behind Spamton. “...Why? How the hell did those other Lightners convince everyone to leave?”

“WELL, THEY WERE PRETTY THOROUGH WITH THEIR [[Friend Request]]ING! NO ONE FELT LIKE [Declining the Offer],” Spamton explained, a bit confused about why Mettaton found it so unimaginable.

“That's all it took? For everyone to leave everything behind?”

Spamton considered that. He looked at the pillar of shadow that made up the fountain, he looked around the desolate Cyber Fields. To him, it made perfect sense. But Mettaton was not a Darkner, so maybe he just didn't know. 

“Once a fountain is opened,” Spamton started, voice quiet and contemplative as he chose his words, “existing feels… different. Everything still happens the way it always has but… I don't really know how to say it. Things are more literal, maybe. More real. Once the fountain was closed, I don't think anyone wanted to go back to how things were before. So, since everyone knew they could trust the Lightners, they followed them to a more permanent fountain.”

“So some sorta... Plato’s Cave situation. Or like, I dunno, I guess it’s sort of like becoming corporeal probably? Not that I know what that’s like. But I think I get it.”

Spamton could still hear the unease in Mettaton’s voice, but it would have to do. He just chuckled as lightly as he could and kept marching towards the city, ignoring the emptiness of the world. 

The City was even more eerie than the Cyber Fields, Spamton had never seen the roads so empty. He was glad he had a destination in mind, glad that it wasn't the dump he had lived in for too long. 

The automatic door to the shoe shop opened as easily as it would if the place was actually open, abandoned without a care. Spamton stifled a yawn as he made his way to the back of the room where the merchandise slowly turned from shoes to… Whatever the hell had been decided was just perfect for a large collection of random Lightners. 

“This is your brother's shop?” Mettaton asked, looking around idly. Thankfully not asking why they hadn't gone to Spamton’s place. Mettaton did live with his two cousins though, so maybe he just assumed Spamton lived with his brother. If only. 

“NO, IT’S NOT HIS,” Spamton clarified. “HE JUST [SELL, SELL, SELLS!] THINGS HERE. THIS [[Classy Outlet]] BELONGS TO A LIGHTNER. THE APARTMENT ABOVE, THOUGH, THAT’S HIS.”

Mettaton nodded absently, not looking very interested in the details of the Addison Business Model. Spamton didn't blame him. As Mettaton slowly wandered around the room, looking at all the t-shirts with highly specific slogans and obscure merchandise and gag gifts, Spamton just let himself rest a bit. None of the wares were much of a novelty to him anymore, not after years of it.

“...Algorithm Tea?” Mettaton asked, and Spamton turned to see him standing in front of his brother’s most prized possession: the personalized tea generator. Spamton hadn't seen it himself, but he'd heard all about what it could do. 

Stifling a yawn, Spamton tiredly explained. “It generates a flavor of tea based on data collected about someone, the resulting tea tastes different to whoever drinks it, it's very popular, whatever.”

Mettaton considered the machine for a few seconds, and then turned back to Spamton. “...Is this a bad time to ask about your voice?”

Spamton winced slightly. He knew the question was coming, even if Mettaton had been graciously silent about the oddity before. The way it had been asked had just been a bit sudden, is all, and Spamton wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. 

He laughed nervously. “SHOULD I START AT [[The Beginning of Everything]]?” He asked. 

Mettaton shrugged dismissively. “We have time,” he said casually, but his steady gaze held much more curiosity than his words let on. 

Spamton nodded and turned away from Mettaton, looking into his own lap. It wouldn’t do him well if voices were thrown into the middle of a story as long as the one he was about to tell. 

“From a young age, us little Addisons were all taught the art of selling our words. It’s important to the family business, the brand… our purpose as Darkners, all of that. We learn how to catch eyes, turn opinions, and attract attention by the way we speak and act. Most of us… of the others. They only really sell their words on the clock, otherwise they just speak how they always have, but I- ah. Well. I wasn’t really great at that- speaking- when I was younger, so I just… started selling my words to everyone.” He shrugged a bit helplessly. How else was he supposed to say it? 

“It was fine for a long while, no one really commented on it or anything, I don’t know if many people realized it wasn’t how I say things naturally. It worked. But then… That fateful year.” Spamton coughed. Uncomfortable. “I met someone. Someone who could turn my dwindling profits around. Someone who did. Their method was… complex, but part of it included voices being thrown into me- you know. A more direct line to my clients, a more succinct way of describing products, I always knew how to say, what to say it, because it wasn’t my voice, it came from somewhere else.”

“That’s… not…” Mettaton trailed off, lips pursed. “You had to have known that would end up going poorly,” he pleaded. 

Spamton winced, chuckling nervously. “YOU’D [[!?#!]]ING THINK! I CAN’T SAY [[$#!?]] ANYMORE!!”

Mettaton laughed in the way one does when they feel bad about laughing at something. 

“ANYWAYS- Anyways. It went wrong, who would’ve guessed. The one who was helping me, they just… Left. Stopped answering the phone. Left me with something in my code that could control what I say, except no one was there to direct it. Before my… friend left, it switched off easily enough when I was done working, but I… guess since I’m always selling my words, it doesn’t know when to do it without his direction.”

“…So it just replaces random words instead,” Mettaton concluded. 

Spamton nodded. 

“Damn…” Mettaton mumbled, taking a sip from a cup Spamton didn’t ever see him acquire. “Fuck.”

Spamton jumped at Mettaton’s sudden burst of profanity. “WHAT? WHAT’S HAPPENING??”

“Oh no this tea, it…” Spamton realized the look on Mettaton’s face was more of a grimace than anything else. “Why the hell does Spamton tea taste like theater popcorn with a hint of… coins?”

Spamton laughed. “IT’S [User Specific], DON’T ASK ME! IT’S BASED ON HOW YOU [[Click And View]] ME.”

Mettaton took another experimental sip. “I mean, it's not… Bad, just not a flavor I’d ever consider for a tea.” He shrugged. “But what do I know, ghost food doesn’t tend to be very flavorful. It’s likely anything I’d eat like this would taste a bit strong for me.”

Spamton nodded as if he understood, and the conversation seemed to peter out. Which was fine. It meant he’d be able to avoid talking about the full extent of his history with the original basement robot for just a bit longer.

It’d come up eventually. He knew that. But actually knowing Mettaton, knowing what the robot was to him, it made the whole thing uncomfortable. And that was without Mettaton being aware of his actions. And, honestly, Spamton didn’t want to take the risk. While Kris and the others were the ones to cut the last strings still tying him to the man on the phone, he had only found true freedom once he had returned to the Cyber World with Mettaton. He had been barely conscious while he was conserving strength as an item and he had been… simplified, in a sense, when he had been in the Light World, which had been frustratingly similar to his state before the strings were cut. And he partially attributed that freedom to Mettaton- he didn’t think he would’ve achieved it if he stayed with Kris- but, really, what he really didn’t want to lose was simply the companionship. He didn’t know if he could truly call Mettaton a friend, but he was at least a peer, and it had been far too long since Spamton had one of those.

So he kept his mouth shut.

“Will any of the teas based on people I don’t know taste like anything?” Mettaton suddenly asked, and Spamton realized that he’d actually finished his Spamton tea. 

“A BIT, BUT IT’LL [LIKELY] BE PRETTY VAGUE.”

Mettaton hummed, and Spamton could see his finger hovering over his own name listed on the machine’s screen.

“AND YOURS WON’T TASTE LIKE [[Just About Anything]] TO YOU EITHER,” Spamton added, but he was too late. The tea had already been dispensed.

Mettaton took a small sip anyway, and the disappointed look on his face confirmed Spamton’s advice. 

“...You want it?” Mettaton offered with a shrug, and Spamton didn’t really have any reason to decline.

Mettaton tea tasted like light, somehow. It tasted like paint and light and dreams. It tasted like the sun, it tasted like God, and it didn’t taste like any of that. Overall the experience was positive, in an extremely embarrassing way that tasted like all of the things Spamton was trying to avoid talking about. 

Of course, Mettaton himself was looking expectantly at Spamton, patiently waiting for the flavor report. 

“IT’S GOOD,” Spamton said, and he couldn’t even think of a lie to describe it. “...[[Sugary Sweet]]?”

Mettaton raised his singular eyebrow. But in a way that implied that if he had another one it wouldn’t be raised. “Oh yeah?”

“IT DOESN’T TASTE LIKE A [[100% Genuine]] FLAVOR,” Spamton said with a shrug. “I [HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA] HOW TO DESCRIBE IT.”

“Fair enough,” Mettaton replied with a shrug, and the conversation drifted off again.

And Spamton was also kind of drifting off, it’d been a long day. Mettaton seemed to be as awake as he’d ever been, which didn’t seem too surprising. Presumably the robot he was possessing had been fully charged when it manifested.

There wouldn’t be any harm in going to sleep, Spamton figured. It was late, he had chosen the shoe shop because he knew it was a… relatively decent shelter. Compared to his dumpster, at least. And so he curled up with some nice and incomprehensible t-shirts and went to sleep.

It was only about four hours before he woke to the world shaking. 

Chapter Text

PLOT

• A few chapters into the game (maybe idk 5) the continuous opening of dark fountains has increased the amount of dark energy in the overworld and has started blurring the distinction between light and dark
• All of the shadow crystals/glass in Kris’s inventory turn into limited physical versions of the secret bosses they have defeated so far
• Jevil is a card and can both move the card itself and move around on the card, Spamton is a small hand puppet sized plush thing? White bits are wooden, black bits are fabric and stuffed. Mouth opens like a pez dispenser 
• Spamton tries to “escape” from Kris’s pocket and immediately gets lost, ends up seeing Mettaton and follows him because he seems familiar.
• Mettaton finds Spamton outside of the ghost house and is like lol ok yea I’ll bring this freak inside.
• They become friends? Kind of? Spamton’s more limited dialogue wise than he usually is so
• At some point they go to the library computer lab for some reason, Mettaton needs to use a computer there Spamton decides hes coming with etc. 
• Uh oh! The computer lab dark fountain reopened on its own! Mettaton and Spamton are in the Dark World now.
• Mettaton is no longer a ghost, body is reminiscent of his doodle/Spamton NEO. Spamton is also back to normal.
• The Cyber World is completely empty. Spamton is a bit put off by this but they see another dark fountain on the horizon, this corresponds to the upper floor of the library where the knight has opened the latest fountain, the cyber world fountain seems to have opened on its own when the library one was opened because the area was already disrupted recently and dark world energy leaking etc. 
• Spamton and Mettaton go to the library dark world, when questioned they say they were left behind in the cyber world and are seeking refuge. 
• Spamton doesn’t turn into a statue for the same reason he was able to exist in the overworld
• Mettaton is indistinguishable from a darkner because no part of his body is from the overworld. This works in his favor, he doesn’t really want to do any fun gang adventure fountain closing stuff. 
• Mettaton and Spamton start doing performances under the name NEO2. It’s a bit rockier than how Mettaton did in Undertale because generally the library darkners (generally) are a bit resistant to screen based media/performance because they are personified books.
• Maddy (Mad Mew Mew) and Napstablook end up stuck in the dark world as well, Maddy comes looking for Mettaton and then Napstablook comes looking for both of them.
• Mettaton and Spamton encounter the fun gang several times once they show up to do their thing, usually during various performances.
• Maddy recognizes Spamton at one point and tries to ask him where Mettaton is without actually asking for Mettaton, Mettaton doesn’t recognize Maddy and vice versa. Spamton also doesn’t recognize Maddy and tells her to fuck off. 
• Napstablook is the only one of the cousins to actually tell the fun gang what they’re looking for, they also give Kris some music they made while in the dark world. 
• Final boss in that Dark World is against Mettaton and Spamton (as NEO2). Under the pretence that they’re mad that the fun gang left them in the Cyber World alone, but Mettaton just doesn’t want to go back to the overworld and lose his body + the beginnings of his fame. The ruler of the library Dark World generally doesn’t hinder or help the fun gang
• Beating Mettaton happens when the fun gang starts playing Napstablook’s song, Mettaton gets mad because he doesn’t want to get sued for playing a copyrighted song w/o credit and gets Spamton to search for the creator of the song. It takes several rounds (and there are actions to help Spamton) but when Spamton ends up putting up the credit for Napstablook, Mettaton sees them and is like wait holy shit where did you get this
• Napstablook convinces Mettaton to go home (probably has already found Maddy, possibly from the help of the fun gang)
• Mettaton possibly fuses with his dark world body during the battle? Depends on whether or not I can determine the ramifications of that.

SHOP

Main screen: 

(Upon entry)

oh…… hi.

this is a shop… i promise. 

(If album isn't bought)

did you see my album..? i’ve been told i should promote my music more…

(otherwise)

you don't have to stay here if you don't want to...

Buy:

(default dialogue)

i’m mostly just trying to sell my music

(after album is sold out)

i still have this stuff if you want..?

Ghost Snacks

A magical packet of strange, ethereal gummies. 

Party +30 health twice

Napping Scarf

A warm, soft scarf that'll put you and your enemies to sleep. Suspiciously blanket-like. 

Ralsei weapon, good magic, bad attack

Reduces Pacify’s TP cost

Sleepytime T

The letter T steeped in hot water for just the right amount of time. Smells floral.

+120 health

Reduces TP gain for a turn

Debut Album (Key Item)

(Store description) It seems like buying this would be a good idea

(Regular description) “The Haunting of your Local Convenience Store,” a collection of 16 tracks by the artist “Napstablook Blook.”

(Lancer inventory dialogue)

Hoho! Such a long MP3, it'll last years! 

(Napstablook dialogue after bought)

let me know what you think sometime..!

Price reduces every time item menu is closed w/o it being bought. One time purchase.

(dialogue when buying anything else)

hope it helps?

Sell:

(default dialogue)

i guess i could use some more stock…

(sell armor)

oh wait… i can wear things right now…… thanks

(sell weapon)

um, could be useful….

(sell item)

i could resell this.

Talk:

Lightner?

Shop

Ghost snacks

Music

-> Lightner?

hmm..? oh! you recognize me…. that's good

i fell in here and woke up with this body… i can leave it, but i actually don't mind it..?

ghosts can't really… wear clothes, at least not too much for too long. it takes concentration. so getting a body to possess was how the outfit change happened with me, i guess. 

unless you two were just wearing that under your normal clothes… i guess i shouldn't assume. 

...

i was supposed to work today…. but then one of my cousins went missing……. and then my other cousin went missing trying to find him…….

and now i guess i’m missing… and still working………..

whoops

(new) Lost Cousins

i tried looking for them by myself but…….. the people here are kind of scary. 

i don't want to battle just because we have different tastes in music…. at least not that much. 

i can't even phase through walls or turn invisible…….

uh, anyways… i’m guessing they probably also have bodies they were given… probably a bit more excited about it than i am… but it means i can’t give you descriptions….

...also… i don't know how willing they'd be to admit they're ghosts… especially not… well……

i can’t tell you what they look like, but i can give names? one goes by maddy, she's the one that's a bit grumpy sometimes… but she's really nice if you get to know her. 

she might be easier to find? she can be pretty loud…..

um, my other cousin mettabre, though…

..?

oh! you recognize his name, kris?

…

you don't..?

then why… did you look at me like you did?

uh

anyways. 

he might be hard to find… he’ll definitely be hiding, in one way or another. 

i don't blame him, i really think he needs this, but hopefully if you find out who he is and let him know i'm here……. 

well… i don’t think he's hiding from me... i hope he isn't. 

-> Shop

oh… yeah, i set this up to help me look for my cousins. did you see the missing poster?

but umm… other than that. sorry that it's kind of just….. me in a corner with a cardboard box

it's the best i could do in a few hours… i spent most of the time finding things to sell. i think it went alright. 

but uh… i thought setting up in front of the fountain would mean more people would come to me… it's been alright. no one’s asked too many questions…

a few people have even been buying things..? i hope they tell people about my cousins

-> Ghost snacks

…oh the ghost snacks? i made those. i think they’re pretty alright…

…

oh…….. noo…… no they don’t taste like ghosts….. they’re fruit snacks…….. that ghosts can eat……

oh no………

…

please don’t eat any ghosts………

-> Music

oh, you’re interested in my music..? that’s nice…

music is kind of my “thing,” at least thats what my cousin always says…… umm…

(if album isn’t bought)

if you want to listen to any of it….. you can buy my album… no pressure though

(if album is bought)

thanks for buying my album, 

[AN: ends midsentence here sorry </3]

FINALE

“I know you don’t trust us, but we promise not to leave you behind this time. If you want, you can even go into Kris’s inventory now so you can be sure you make it to Castle Town!”

Mettaton blinked at the goat kid, (Ralsei? Was it?) and frowned. “Go into Kris’s inventory?” He repeated. The kid was nice, he’d admit that, but he didn’t think he’d fit in their pockets anytime soon. 

“HERE!” Spamton interrupted, suddenly rushing out from behind Mettaton. “I’LL [[Download a free sample here!]]”

Before Mettaton could begin to comprehend what was happening, Spamton reached for his glasses. He took them off with a little flourish, and as the glasses left the bridge of his nose, he seemed to disappear into them. 

“I don’t think I can do that,” Mettaton muttered, hoping Spamton could hear him. Sure, maybe he could pretend to do it by possessing some smaller object, but what would be the point of that? It all wasn’t really about getting to this castle town they kept mentioning. 

“Aw, at first I didn't think I could either, but it's something any darkner can learn how to do. It all has to do with how you perceive yourself-”

“I Perceive Myself Just Fine!!” Mettaton interrupted, vocalizer muffled by the tight smile he pulled. It was something any darkner could learn, how sweet. How useful. Being unrecognizable as a lightner had its perks, but at that moment Mettaton just wanted to finally give up the act and scream into the goat child’s face. But he didn't, because that was a terrible idea for a variety of reasons.

“I think,” Mettaton started again, his artificial voice extra artificially sweetened, “that you three little darlings shouldn't bother closing the fountain! Just go on back to school or whatever you do out there and let me and my friend keep the rewards of our own goddamn work!”

The purple one frowned, snout scrunched up in confusion. “We're not going to break up your acting troupe or band or whatever the hell you two are. You'll just be moved to a place that can exist without risking a fucking apocalypse! How hard is that to understand?”

 “Oh I understand just fine!” Mettaton replied, cheery as ever. “I understand all of it! I understand everything. Don't you worry your silly fucking head about it! What you need to understand, however,” he paused to lean over and grab the glasses-that-were-spamton. Hopefully he got the message, because Mettaton was not about to break the dramatic tension just to tell him to wake the fuck back up into a deranged puppet man, “is that in order to get to that fountain, you'll have to get through us!”

Spamton appeared in Mettaton’s hand only a few forgivable seconds too late, falling somewhat gracefully to the ground with his arms outstretched as if giving a sermon. 

“THAT’S [[100% Guaranteed!]] WE’RE GONNA KICK YOUR [[$%#]]!!!”

“Well if that's what you want, it's on!” 

At that, the kids summoned their weapons and a battle began. Mettaton felt a strange sense of relief at that. No more talking, no more holes poked into his shoddy story, just expressing himself by shooting balls of energy from the cannon he could turn his right arm into. And they thought he was crazy for fighting tooth and nail for the body, not that they knew that's why he was fighting.

Spamton also looked pretty jazzed about it, which was funny. Mettaton thought he had said that these same kids kicked his ass? Maybe he was just excited for a rematch. Mettaton was flattered to know that he was clearly confident that his addition to their little team was enough to tip the scales. 

Turn one: the purple one and the goat boy took the defensive, but Kris pointed at Mettaton, looking directly at the glowing white soul housed inside his chassis. 

Kris asked him what he was really afraid of.

Perhaps the conversation wasn't as over as Mettaton hoped. He grit his teeth and fired a few balls of plasma towards the kid's soul. He didn't want to kill the kid, of course. He knew them, kind of. One of the only people who ever asked for him anymore. Even when Maddy was the one to answer the door. No, the battle was just to get them to fuck off. Reconsider. He didn't really know. 

“I'm afraid of losing what I've set up here!” Mettaton asserted, repeating his established lie. The slowly building reputation he'd gotten in the Dark World was nothing compared to just… Getting to exist in the fairly literal body of his dreams. “I'm afraid of being alone!”

He wasn't afraid of being alone, just sick of it. Really, he was afraid of the Dark World disappearing and everyone seeing and realizing. What a fucking hoax, they'd think, as if he wasn't walking around with a guy named Spamton.