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ex_mettacrusher33) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
epidemiology2017-04-08 07:13 pm
ex_mettacrusher33) wrote in epidemiology2017-04-08 07:13 pm
i invited ortega over tonight to watch sliders in my room (closed)
CHARACTERS: Mettaton, Maya, Peridot, Feferi, Keats, Olivia, Vaughn, Oliver, Giorno, Fugo, Papyrus (and possibly Sans)
DATE: A bit after arriving in Terra Felis
WARNINGS: Some of the movies involve violence, but this is just a sleepover. On a cat planet.
SUMMARY: Mettaton invited his closest friends to a musical viewing planned for when they got back to Oska. They're uh... they're just gonna have to make due with what they have.
...this isn't what Mettaton expected.
The original plan was much more dour in nature, surely. He had a very specific intent to hole himself in his room in Oska, feel horrible for himself, and then force those whose presence he enjoyed into spending the night with him watching movies that he also enjoyed. It was meticulously planned to cheer himself up! To encourage his friends to meet with one another and talk about how wonderful him and his taste in entertainment was! To fill the gaping void of despair of leaving Woodhurst with love and admiration!!
Instead, he found himself surrounded by cats. That tends to blast a hole in any pre-planned pity-party.
But! The show must go on, even with a change in scenery or motivation. Besides, it isn't as if his wonderful, wonderful friends (and Keats) couldn't use something fun themselves!! He promised them a celebration! After everything they've gone through, they certainly deserve it.
So his hotel room has been decorated as beautifully as Mettaton himself. Blankets hang from the ceiling, creating one giant fort within the room proper. Glitter is seemingly everywhere. Snacks (...mostly meat-based, like hamburgers, thanks to the area) have been paid for and set up lovingly along more blankets on the floor. Several pillows are also on the floor, as well a steady pile of them in the corner of the room (for extra and/or lounging, you see). The bed holds even more pillows, and the vanity has been encompassed in the fort for any emergency midnight makeovers.
It's going to be a long night.
--
6pm to 11pm:
West Side Story
Little Shop of Horrors
Les Mis
Things are starting off particularly well! It's a trio of downers, sure, but there's enjoyment to be had with them regardless! Mettaton continues to maintain that these are classics and need to be revered as such, but this notably doesn't stop him from pointing out any terrible singing or riffing on anything silly, especially with the last movie involved. He encourages his friends to do the same and get as much fun out of the experience as possible. It's a fine start.
--
12am to 4am:
The Little Mermaid
Enchanted
Into the Woods
The snacks are beginning to wane. The weakest of those invited have begun to quietly drift off into the night, which is a shame for two reasons: One, these are more hopeful movies!! The joyful ones!! The ones Mettaton can't seem to stop himself from sobbing dramatically at. Two, he has a supply of glitter pens at his disposal and has suspiciously left them in plain view, as if challenging his guests to use them on one another.
--
5am to 7am:
Sweeney Todd
Chicago
Rocky Horror Picture Show
Grease 2
It's the dreaming hours, now. Most people with sane sleeping schedules or an ability to tune out Mettaton's gabbing have taken to the slumber part of this party. The movies have also gotten a bit more... questionable, in their content. Cannibalism, murder, badly-sung songs about reproduction... Anyone still awake has most likely reached that blissful, slap-happy state of all slumber-parties where everything is hilarious, the giggles cannot stop, and you're constantly trying to keep yourself from waking the rest of the guests.
--
Mingle, enjoy, and please keep Maya from eating all of the snacks.
PS: Don't trust the bone goblin attempting to sell catnip. He wasn't invited.
DATE: A bit after arriving in Terra Felis
WARNINGS: Some of the movies involve violence, but this is just a sleepover. On a cat planet.
SUMMARY: Mettaton invited his closest friends to a musical viewing planned for when they got back to Oska. They're uh... they're just gonna have to make due with what they have.
...this isn't what Mettaton expected.
The original plan was much more dour in nature, surely. He had a very specific intent to hole himself in his room in Oska, feel horrible for himself, and then force those whose presence he enjoyed into spending the night with him watching movies that he also enjoyed. It was meticulously planned to cheer himself up! To encourage his friends to meet with one another and talk about how wonderful him and his taste in entertainment was! To fill the gaping void of despair of leaving Woodhurst with love and admiration!!
Instead, he found himself surrounded by cats. That tends to blast a hole in any pre-planned pity-party.
But! The show must go on, even with a change in scenery or motivation. Besides, it isn't as if his wonderful, wonderful friends (and Keats) couldn't use something fun themselves!! He promised them a celebration! After everything they've gone through, they certainly deserve it.
So his hotel room has been decorated as beautifully as Mettaton himself. Blankets hang from the ceiling, creating one giant fort within the room proper. Glitter is seemingly everywhere. Snacks (...mostly meat-based, like hamburgers, thanks to the area) have been paid for and set up lovingly along more blankets on the floor. Several pillows are also on the floor, as well a steady pile of them in the corner of the room (for extra and/or lounging, you see). The bed holds even more pillows, and the vanity has been encompassed in the fort for any emergency midnight makeovers.
It's going to be a long night.
--
6pm to 11pm:
West Side Story
Little Shop of Horrors
Les Mis
Things are starting off particularly well! It's a trio of downers, sure, but there's enjoyment to be had with them regardless! Mettaton continues to maintain that these are classics and need to be revered as such, but this notably doesn't stop him from pointing out any terrible singing or riffing on anything silly, especially with the last movie involved. He encourages his friends to do the same and get as much fun out of the experience as possible. It's a fine start.
--
12am to 4am:
The Little Mermaid
Enchanted
Into the Woods
The snacks are beginning to wane. The weakest of those invited have begun to quietly drift off into the night, which is a shame for two reasons: One, these are more hopeful movies!! The joyful ones!! The ones Mettaton can't seem to stop himself from sobbing dramatically at. Two, he has a supply of glitter pens at his disposal and has suspiciously left them in plain view, as if challenging his guests to use them on one another.
--
5am to 7am:
Sweeney Todd
Chicago
Rocky Horror Picture Show
Grease 2
It's the dreaming hours, now. Most people with sane sleeping schedules or an ability to tune out Mettaton's gabbing have taken to the slumber part of this party. The movies have also gotten a bit more... questionable, in their content. Cannibalism, murder, badly-sung songs about reproduction... Anyone still awake has most likely reached that blissful, slap-happy state of all slumber-parties where everything is hilarious, the giggles cannot stop, and you're constantly trying to keep yourself from waking the rest of the guests.
--
Mingle, enjoy, and please keep Maya from eating all of the snacks.
PS: Don't trust the bone goblin attempting to sell catnip. He wasn't invited.
no subject
Mettaton taps his pen against his diary, frowning as he watches Keats sway. A better friend might see this as a danger and attempt to shake him awake.]
That's how we really feel, is it...?
[Of course he's not going to do that. He has to be disappointed in how awful one person can be. This is the worst discovery ever made!! It's like being told there's something nicer under the layers of rude only to find it's a matryoshka of bitterness! Keats is a jerk even when he's unconscious!!
Mettaton needs to know how deep the rabbit hole goes. For science.
He ignores the receptionist's confused stare, waving her off as he stares deeply at the subject.]
Can you hear me, darling?
no subject
[He says, raising a hand and adjusting his glasses even though he's not even using them to see. The irony is really strong in this one.]
[He suddenly turns away, walking out the doors and heading down the residential square. He's walking slow enough not to trip over the few cat inhabitants who are up, which really is a miracle. He's now just gesturing to the air, a slight smirk on his face.]
Hey, Ellen, look at what I've found...
no subject
[5:10am: "Ellen"?
It's the cruelest of ironies that traversing this town is worse for Mettaton, the man that is actually fully awake and not stumbling like a drunk, than for Keats. For as short a time as Audentes has been here, it's been quickly established that Mettaton is warm and more than willing to allow any cat in the vicinity to lounge on his mechanical body. A few cats have spotted him and offered greetings, rubbing against his legs as he attempts to keep trailing after the sleeping nerd.]
Oh?, [Mettaton switches the pitch of his voice, changing it to something far more feminine, and copies Keats' accent. There's no Ellen on this team. It must be someone from home, maybe...?] What is it, Mr. Keats?
no subject
You sound strange. What, you have a cold...?
[And then, after that beat, he just continues onward like nothing's amiss. If he was seeing what was happening to Mettaton right now, he would most definitely be laughing and making fun of him. Be thankful for that.]
[He actually doesn't speak anything for a while, making a turn towards the Museum Campus. He then pipes up all of a sudden, like his mind has gone back to the conversation he just abandoned.]
Look at these medical records. He had a heart condition, it seems...
no subject
At the very least, Keats is shrugging off his voice. What, is her voice even high-pitched than this?? What is this woman, a child?
5:15am: Subject is talking about medical records. Ellen must be a fellow reporter.]
Who had a heart condition? I don't understand.
no subject
Come on, Ellen. It's like you're not paying attention. What have you been doing, daydreaming?
[A cat brushes by his feet and he almost sidesteps a little too far, but he catches himself in time with a grunt, shaking his head as if he wasn't two seconds away from falling flat on his face.]
It's Herve's medical records, of course.
no subject
His pen falters on the paper, his eyes narrowing. Either Herve is a very common name where Keats is from, or he's just making that little sense.
Mettaton puts the pen to his mouth, tilting his head as he considers.]
But you're Herve...
no subject
[He stops in place, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He's still asleep, he's still seeing Ellen, how does she know...?]
[His tone is dreadfully serious.]
Who told you that?
no subject
5:17am: "Herve" ""had"" heart condition. Ellen doesn't know Keats' first name? Why is he so defensive about it?
Mettaton's tapping the pen against his cheek now, watching the cats rubbing against his legs out of the corner of his eye.]
You did. You told me. You said your name was Herve.
Do YOU have a medical condition, Keats?
no subject
[He adjusts his glasses with a look of sheer annoyance, clearly distressed. This is not turning out to be a good dream (though, unfortunately for him, it's not all quite a dream at all.)]
I never did. What are you bringing this up for, huh? You don't know anything. Don't act like you do.
no subject
This doesn't make any sense. Keats is dreaming about a girl who's helping him investigate a story about himself? Or someone with the same name and he's desperately avoiding that fact?
Dreaming is so weird.]
I DON'T know. [He shrugs, not that he needs to.] Do you not like that name?
no subject
Just Keats. No one else. [He puts his hand down, his upper lip drawing back in a scowl.] You don't understand.
no subject
[5:20am: "I'm just Keats, okay? No one else."
That's such a specific thing to say. No one else. It's not denying a name, but an entire identity. There's no doubt now that the Herve he's talking about, the one who "had" a heart condition, is the same one Keats is denying he is.
...but why? If there's one thing Mettaton understands, it's erasing an old identity and writing a new one. But why would Keats do that? Does this have anything to do with his hatred of mirrors...?]
I really don't understand. We're friends, Keats. Why would you try to hide something from me? [It's not the nicest thing to do, but...
Well. He's curious.]
1/2
[There's an oppressive weight over the whole conversation. Keats is still scowling, as if ready to keep going, to deny everything, to try to run away from his issues even when completely asleep.]
2/2
Where was I? Right, have to search for those nuts. Stupid nuts. C'mere, Bargest, let me fight you...
[Now he's punching the air. He's not even doing it well. Cats are staring.]
no subject
5:30am: Subject denies both friendship and secrets even while asleep. Resorts to punching air over a desire to rob a "Bargist(?)" of nuts. Must inquire about later, as Subject always struck me as the type to constantly complain about a peanut allergy.
As much as Mettaton would love to let this idiot continue to embarrass himself in front of a million cats (and rest assured, he is 100% delighting in this image), it's really in the entire team's benefit to keep said idiot from accidentally hurting a local in his quest for ill-gotten treats. So, with a sigh, Mettaton places both pen and diary back into his storage before cautiously stepping closer to his friend. He reaches for an outstretched arm, hoping to grab it and pull the rest of the man into his arms and carry him back to the hotel.]
Alright, honeysuckle. I'm sure they'll give you snacks if you just ask. Time to go to bed now.
no subject
[Like most sleepwalkers, Keats is actually very lenient with being moved around - he doesn't even try to resist when Mettaton pulls him into the cradle of his arms, even resting his head against the robot's shoulder, mumbling.]
I have to be strong, you know?
no subject
The cats have since amused themselves by watching from a distance. Mettaton can see them swishing their tails and giggling to one another. He doesn't blame them, honestly. This has gone from hilarious to harrowing and right back to hysterical again.
Thankfully, this means the trip back is significantly easier than the trek forward. They're already halfway back to the hotel now.]
Yes, yes, dearest. Protein and muscles and all that. You know, they sell powders for that in stores on the surface - you don't need to act like a ruffian and steal from people.
Ha. Besides. You're a writer. What, do you need to lift your computer every day? You're supposed to be built in the image of an egg-noodle.
1/2
[He says, reaching up with his hand to just pat Mettaton's chin. Huh. It's...cold. And metal. It's weird. Why is he touching Mettaton...?]
2/2
[1. He is not under his pillow fort, fast asleep.]
[2. He is in Mettaton's arms. He's being carried right now.]
[3. He has no possible idea of how he even got into this situation.]
[Mettaton, if you ever wanted to see someone shocked to the point of silence, you're seeing it now. Keats just stares up with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, his cheeks flushing vibrant red.]
no subject
By the time Keats wakes up, Mettaton's already staring down at him with a horrified expression of his own.]
...did you just admit to being a murderer?
[Oh god, this is why he has to hide his identity, he's been killing people
and is pretending to be an Irish journalist oh god oh man oh god oH MAN!!]
no subject
[WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT. Keats just gapes at him, unsure what to even make of this whole situation. He's so confused. HE'S SO CONFUSED.]
What are you talking about? I don't kill people!! What kind of accusation is that?! Where am I?
no subject
[No, he's not setting Keats down. If anything, his grip is getting tighter to ensure the other can't get away.]
You were sleep-walking, gorgeous. Talking about medical records and investigations. You were adamant about denying an old identity and then you said you needed to be strong to destroy people. Is this what you're hiding? Is this the scoop we've all been waiting for...?
[It's hard to tell whether Mettaton's teasing or genuinely interested to find out if his friend is a serial murderer. Both. Maybe a bit of both.]
no subject
[Oh...oh no. Just like that night when he sleep-walked over to the Henge. Keats wishes the ground would just swallow him, ANY SECOND NOW, GROUND.]
Medical records, that's...the last investigation I was on, before I went into ALASTAIR. What do you mean, old identity? What did I say?
[Destroying people? Why would he say something like that? He has to think...he has to think.]
Wait a second. Destroying...what was I saying? People? Or Folks?
no subject
Were those his own medical records that he was presenting as evidence? Or was that just a part of the dream?
Before Mettaton can ask, Keats is back to being on the defensive. Mettaton raises an eyebrow at him and his insistent terminology.]
What difference does it make?
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