fulllifeconsequences

You really know how to lie without batting an eye. It's impressive.

[His tone is a bit dry, but there's no admonishment to it. He's an actor; he lives in lies.

Their tone, coupled with their abrupt demand that he give his reasons as to his presence makes him sigh a bit.]

I'm here because you died during that last event. I wanted to check in on you and make sure you were ok. I know things have been extremely rough with you lately, what with Frisk and events and everything in between.

[His smile remains gentle as he continues.]

I don't want you to think you're alone if Frisk isn't around. You're not.

[Oof, maybe he laid the sentimentality on a little thick. He's sure Chara will brush it off easily, but there's no taking it back now.]

[They're practically immune to sappiness. Can effortlessly roll their eyes at it, laugh at it, ignore it. Their armor is far too thick to be so easily shattered.

But it's been... two months is a very long time. Two months of regret, two months of being unable to make up for a mistake. Two months of it not getting better. They never had the respite of being undetermined. They only had the ability to hold their breath, to fake as hard as they could that they weren't affected at all.

It's getting hard to keep holding their breath.

There should be an easy answer here. Blasé remarks about their exceptional talent for lies. Laughing about how everyone seems to forget they were already dead before they came here, so obviously they're used to it. Brushing off the idea that anything could possibly be rough for them, unfeeling and in control and heartless as they are. Some breezy, joking remark about how they actually vastly prefer alone, ha ha, they've never felt loneliness or attachment in their entire wretched life!

But he says they're not alone and he acts like the fact they died matters (Why would he act like that? Why did anyone even notice?) and they... they... it's stupid, right? Of course they're alone without Frisk. Frisk was the only person in the whole entire Underground who knew they were even there. Everyone else found a new child, a new future, a new best friend, a new spot to scribble over a memorial. Of course they're alone. They're - ha ha, they're so alone!

Chara feels like - like a glass that's been filling up, drop-by-drop, and now there's nothing but surface tension keeping everything held together. Like this is just one droplet too many, and now that tiny little speck of nothing is enough to set the whole thing to spilling over the sides. They clench their fists and bite their lip and screw their face up, because they can feel their eyes starting to burn over such a tiny, insignificant remark. Their cheeks are burning with shame, because he'll think they're absolutely looney if one stupid fake smile and one just-as-fake corny remark are all it takes to - big kids don't cry! They don't even cry! They've got nothing to cry about! This whole thing is their fault, so who gave them the right to go fishing for pity by crying?]

I'm fine. Of course I'm fine! You must really be bored if you're wasting your time on this, huh?

[They try to keep smiling. It's just a joke. It's all just one big joke to Chara! They're laughing this off, just like they laughed off using buttercups instead of butter. Just like they always laugh at suffering, because that's what demons do.]

[Chara screws their face up to stop themself from crying, and Mettaton feels his heart ache.]

Darling, even seasoned actors need to take a break and get off the stage. You're not fine and it's all right not to be.

[He holds out a hand to them but doesn't touch; merely offers it.]

I'm not sure how you are with touch or hugs, but if you need one and want one, I will gladly give it.

[His smile takes on the slightest edge of a smirk.]

Tsk tsk Chara. Do you really think I would waste my time on someone I didn't like? Please. I'm not that generous.

[It's so silly. Maybe they could have shaken this off, recovered from this humiliating slip of composure.

But he reaches out. He's just... offering. Asking permission. Like the Dreemurrs learned to do with them. He doesn't just go and grab them because it's normal to like touch, normal people don't freeze up and go limp and compliant because if you behave then the skin-crawling sensation of roving fingers where they shouldn't ever be will end that much sooner, just topple out of yourself and pretend the popcorn stucco of the ceiling is a snowy field in a wonderland miles and miles away from here and...

He asks permission. Even if they didn't ask him to, didn't go through the exhausting and uncomfortable recitation of it's not you I'm just weird ha ha or anything like that. He just... asks.

And their eyes burn so hotly they cannot bear to keep them open, and they seize his hand in both of theirs even if they should be stronger than the temptation of comfort. Cling to it like it's a lifeline in a stormy sea, even if they try to laugh at themself, try to think some stupid joke about how robots are just hard clunky metal and probably suck at hugs or something.]

Stop. Don't be nice to me. Just... just don't. I can be fine if I try harder! I haven't even - what have I done for you lately, huh?

[They haven't earned this. What gives them the right to ask this of him when they've given him nothing of value? They should be stronger than this. They shouldn't need anyone to like them.]

I don't need anyone being nice to me. I don't.

[Asking permission for contact has always been a part of his life. Whether it was verbal or physical, the question was always there. Ghosts cannot touch each other without "permission". As a small ghost, he'd always have to indicate in some fashion if he wanted to hug Napstablook or hold their "hand" or anything along those lines. Being able to reach over and touch someone else without the lines of magic dictating its presence had been so novel upon reaching full corporeality.

And yet.

There was still something comforting in being able to set these lines, these boundaries. Sometimes he wanted touch, but not a lot of it. Even if it had been years of being physical and he had grown used to the stimulus, he could still be overwhelmed. Hence his questions, his subtle fishing for cues whenever he drew close to someone.

Chara was no different here. They always gave off an air of needing that sort of line as well. So when they grip his hand in theirs, holding onto it like a human drowning, he doesn't pull them into a tight hug like he wants to. He instead closes his fingers slowly over their hands, giving them time to pull away if they wish, but still showing that he is ok with the touch too.]

You don't need to try harder, Chara. You're fine the way you are.

[They are good and important, just like this. Crying and shaking and so unsure of their place in the world, and they are perfect. Just like this.]

You've done more for me than I think you know.

[I feel lonely and lost and that no one could have sympathy for a ghost pretending to be something else. But you cared. You could have hurt me but you didn't and I...

I feel like we are more alike than it seems.]

Perhaps you don't need anyone. That's fine. But it's ok to still want it.

[They don't - they don't understand why this hurts so much. Why he can affect them this much. They've got more LOVE than anyone here. They don't have a whole SOUL, just a few pieces of one. They're mean, aloof, ruthless, a hardened killer. They're still a demon deep down, people have just started pretending they don't notice. Mettaton is just - he's self-centered and shallow, right? He's egotistical and Chara's heartless, so this shouldn't be happening at all.

But he holds their grasping hands, and it's slow and gentle and nothing at all like pinning them down, and they're surprised that the metal is much warmer than they thought it would be, and every part of them aches over how much they needed to hear something so considerate and genuine and comforting. How utterly new and foreign it is to be such a mess, so undignified, so messy, and yet be told they're fine the way they are. Not that they aren't the greatest, not that they could be better if they tried. That - that this is enough.]

I don't - wanna cry. I'm not gonna cry.

[They interrupt themself with a hiccup, too loud and too messy and too wet-sounding. They're getting sniffly and their eyes are hot with a dampness they can't blink away. A few droplets too many. They're spilling over. Overflowing all over the place.]

I'm not crying. I wasn't gonna cry at all.

I wanted you to think I was cool.

[They tell themselves that's a laugh, not a shuddering, jerky sob, the kind that makes their shoulders twitch and their whole body feels it from top to bottom. Still making jokes, see? Still smiling! Laughing it off!]

[They really are a child and he thinks it in the best way. What a simple desire, a simple want, to have someone think you're "cool". He's built a career on changing and informing people's impressions, and his smile stays as understanding and gentle as before.]

Don't worry, dear, I won't judge you for any tears. If anyone deserves to shed them right now, it's you.

[He lifts his other hand, slow and tentative, to rest lightly on the other side of Chara's hands so that they are holding each other. He keeps it slightly hovered, to let them slip away if this move was too bold.]

Besides, I balanced a tea cup on my head and recited a haiku when we met. I find it extraordinary that you still would find me cool in some capacity. Though I do appreciate it.

[Keep it light. Keep up the jokes. Don't let it get too heavy or else their heart may not be strong enough to hold itself up and empty itself out like they need to.

He wishes they could feel his SOUL right now. Feel its gentle pulse, the understanding that runs deeper than even he wants to admit. He thinks they'd do well to feel it. ...But the thought of sharing his SOUL with anyone other than maybe Napstablook is terrifying. He buries the desire for connection under a well-practiced and fluffed ego, a personal barrier from the world that no amount of souls can break.]

[They laugh, and it's watery and hiccupy and altogether not very elegant-sounding, but it's real. His hands are so gentle and patient, and their heart aches so acutely that they don't even know how to let this painful flood rush out of them. They don't understand themselves at all, feel like they're utterly out of their own control, like they can't stop this wretched crumbling no matter how much they try to reign it in, make it quiet, keep it out of sight.

Monsters are... monsters are so good. Too good for humans like them. Too good for whatever-you-ares like them.]

...I did something bad. I'm not the one who got hurt. What gives me the right to - I'm not the one who's got any reason to cry. I made this happen. And I can't... I can't make it okay again. I can't make up for it.

Not even with haikus.

[Still joking, still joking, still clinging gratefully to the cushion of thin, watery humour. The half-degree of indirectness and distance, the thin veneer of not really being affected by anything. They doubt it's fooling anyone, but they can't... they can't just... they can't be like this!]

[A laugh! A sad laugh, but a laugh all the same and Mettaton laughs a little himself. They are holding hands and it's doing him more good than he thought it would. He cares about this human so much and it feels sudden, but he's not holding himself back for once, for one glorious moment in time, he's letting himself show the affection he wants to show.

There's no one else but him and Chara and the curtain is drawn. The audience has gone home and all there is left to do is to clean up the stage.]

Sometimes, when bad things happen between two people who just want the best for each other, both sides get hurt. Sometimes you may think you have no right to be injured, but that's not how it works. You're hurt because you care, because you never wanted the bad thing to happen. No one is perfect. No matter how much you may want to be.

[Is he speaking to himself or Chara? Does it matter? A ghost, left alone to tend to a farm of snails, devoid of family. A robot, taking a new life, alone with his guilt. A scratching, gnawing feeling of something missing, of something wrong, losing your, haha, "other half".

A dark forest, moonlight creeping through the branches and leaves. Scratches on the chassis, on his legs, paint job in order. The dim shimmery luminescence of a ghost, floating towards the edge of the tree line to the abyss, tears falling

falling

falling]

So long as you are alive, Chara, you can make up for your mistakes. So long as you have the ability to reach out to others with any intent to repair, you can fix things.

[They had both been quiet during that slow walk back to the mansion.]

Luckily for you, poetry is one of the best ways to express yourself for apologies. Maybe you could write an entire book of haikus and use that.

[The joke is wearing thin, but he keeps it up, because he knows. He knows it helps.

He hopes he is helping.]

[They had never imagined being like this around an adult. Can't remember the last time they fell apart in front of anyone except Frisk. It feels like they'd be swept away completely by the force of this torrential outpouring if not for the hands anchoring them here.

But they can't believe in any of that, can they? They never made up for any of their mistakes. Just stood back and watched as better, less wrong people came along and fixed the mess they left. They're not really alive. Their time stopped! Their story is over! What right do they have to let themselves forget they've been gone for a long time?]

That's going to be a pretty long book.

[Just keep laughing. Keep those syrupy, wet sob-chuckles going, because they're not at all gross-sounding, ha ha. What a shame they can't be a robot too, just find some switch deep inside them that shuts their ability to cry down forever.]

How many times do you say "sorry" for it to actually make anything better? It's just... it's just a word. A stupid, empty word that won't undo any of Frisk's suffering. I've made a mistake so awful, they'll never be the same. So awful, they wanted to die.

Just saying "sorry" doesn't make anything better, it just - it just forces them to forgive me, because it's their job to forgive everybody! I can't even apologize without putting more weight on their shoulders! How do they know I mean it... and how do I know they really feel better if they just tell everyone "I forgive you" because they have to?

[His laughter this time is bigger, more heartfelt. Oh Chara, he understands. He may not completely know the extent of everything they have done but having enough to write pages and pages of a book to apologize for, the pages overflowing and bleeding ink, is something he knows.]

You know, I've wondered that myself plenty of times; If apologizing is really "enough". It really does feel useless at times. But just short of doing the impossible and fixing every problem in the world, it's most of what we've got.

[How can justice truly be dealt if nothing completely solves the problem? Is it really healing if the wound doesn't close? Forgiveness and acceptance is a rocky road filled with pitfalls and setbacks and it's hard to know the best way forward.]

Unfortunately, when it comes to things like that, that's not something you can truly stop. That's on Frisk to change about themselves. When you apologize to someone who feels they have to forgive everyone and everything, it always comes with that risk of making them feel obligated. But it's better than saying nothing. You're acknowledging that you hurt them and that they deserve the apology.

[He smiles a bit sadly. He doesn't even have to pretend why he understands this here. They know. Chara knows how Napstablook is. How Alphys is. But it can change for the better. He knows this. He only got a small taste of it on the surface (three months was not enough) but he knows.]

You can help them along with that, at least. You can help them understand what you mean and help them learn to only accept apologies when they actually want to, rather than all the time. It's hard work. But it is doable. I was making some headway with Alphys on that front back home before coming here.

[He gives their hands another comforting squeeze and a soft splaying of fingers to gently stroke their skin.]

And with time, you can eventually come to forgive yourself too. Because that is another important part of the process.

[He hasn't gotten there yet. He doesn't think he has a right to be there yet, not when he spent so long convinced that he did nothing wrong. But maybe one day.]

[It just feels so... huge, doesn't it? A cliff far too steep to scale. Chara had already given up utterly on "sorry," had already grown to resent the word for its woeful, hopeless inadequacy. They can't even begin to consider forgiving themself being part of it, being in any way necessary. Can't even wrap their head around the thought that they should forgive themself, that they should be doing anything other than making sure their sins always weigh on their neck. All this time, and they still know so little about forgiveness. They've still only just begun to experience it, still only just started to learn how to practice it.

Never saw it when they were on the surface.

Never expected it when they made a pie and Asgore got sick.

Never felt an ounce of it toward the humans who wronged them, who wronged monsterkind.

Never heard "I forgive you" in any of the timelines they built, no matter how good they tried to be. Still not the greatest person. Still the last threat to everyone's happiness. This timeline in particular, the one they're living now... this one's the fluke, the freak accident, the glitch. They shouldn't even be thinking about forgiveness at all, should they?]

I hardly know where to start. Life was much easier when I didn't pretend I was anything but a huge jerk.

[It's a little easier to laugh, now that the worst of the sobs have already spilled out of them. Now that patient fingers gently play over their scarred hands, loose and careful enough that they could pluck their hands back the moment the sensation stops being soothing.

It's a little easier, now.]

[How is it that they are so alike? The words they say sound almost exactly like something he has said to himself so many times in the past few months. Facing the setbacks in all of his relationships, with Alphys, with Napstablook, with Frisk and Bucky and Sans and so many more...

Everything was so much easier when he was a shallow, vapid asshole.]

Life always seems easier when you act like nothing phases you. If you keep people at a distance, on the other side of the stage, then you keep looking perfect and they'll never see the messier parts of you. It helps to keep up the illusion.

[He sighs a little. He'd missed contact, both physical and emotional. He worries that he's sharing too much.

Perhaps he's not sharing enough.]

I can't say I have all the answers, as much as I wish I did. If I could tell anyone the solution to all of their problems, I'd make a killing off of fortune telling. All I know is that it feels so much better to be with people than without.

[It feels... good. To say that. To admit it. Out loud.]

-1 to ZEZPQB BT FRESMNF IZDVZ BEFVQN GC NBVBW

* IC Inbox

The only cure for it is TV, snacks, and sleeping

what about Staring Vacantly at Nothing For like 15 Minutes at a Time

Yes, perfect, also quietly rubbing a soft blanket while thinking of nothing helps

a national pastime tbh

these two are breaking my fuckign heart

this cr never stops ambushing my feelings

This CR stalked me down a dark alleyway and stole my pocket change and left a rose in its stead

this cr broke into my home and stole my dvds and left a mint on my pillow

This CR cut my hair while I was sleeping, dyed it and then fashioned it into a nice hairdo

this cr watered my crops and rotated in soybeans to preserve the soil quality

This CR put on my favorite album and made me dinner when I was too sick to move

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