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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
[He doesn't appear to notice. The only thing that might indicate otherwise is his fingers pulling carefully through the end of his braid.]
What sort of answer are you looking for?
no subject
Answers my question?
[Boy.]
no subject
[He's a good son.]
no subject
no subject
You got me there, he writes in large, looping script.]
no subject
Everyone in Napoli knows quite a bit about prisons, to start with.
no subject
Mettaton smiles at it, thoroughly distracted.]
Napoli? What's that?
no subject
[Hm. That was good, apparently. Giorno . . . draws a little cat face, down by Mettaton's thumb.]
no subject
We don't really have prisons where I'm from. Monsters are very peaceful lot, for the most part.
I'm guessing the same isn't true of the people in Napoli?
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[He's never really heard that term before--"monsters"--in reference to people from where Mettaton is from. The idea of a group of people being peaceful is also interesting. He can't imagine it.]
Napoli is a very beautiful city full of many very lovely people and many terrible criminals. Mm, and some of the terrible criminals look like the princes from the stories. Very bad men in very pretty clothing. And they put the very lovely people away in places like prisons, even if they've done nothing wrong.
[Thoughtfully, he draws the rest of the cat's body. It's in the process of walking jauntily somewhere. Its tail is held high. Then he draws a little crown on its head.]
no subject
Mettaton flexes his hand. The glitter sparkles.]
Are you a revolutionist, little Gavroche?
no subject
[Narancia was Gavroche.]
[Slowly and carefully, he draws a star on Mettaton's wrist.]
Yes.
"A shadow is hard to seize by the throat and dash to the ground." But I am very bright.
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Mettaton finally peels his eyes away from his own hand, looking over Giorno's expression. It's serene, yet dour, like a warrior heading into a battle they know they'll win but won't make it out of. It's then coupled with this child-like way of taking horrible news and twisting it into a fairy tale - that the prisons and revolting are just an obstacle to the way of a happily ever after.
It's eerie, yet enthralling. No wonder Fugo's wrapped around this boy's finger.
Mettaton pulls himself away and shakes his hand in the air, drying off the ink. He pushes himself over to sit himself behind Giorno and reaches for his hair.] Your braid's coming loose, sweetheart, [he explains.
...hm.]
How did you come into so much money, Gigi?
no subject
[So he allows Mettaton at his back, sitting up straight obediently, hands folded primly in his lap.]
I seized a shadow by the throat, [he murmurs,] and dashed it to the ground, of course.
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So he unties Giorno's braid and runs his finger through his hair, undoing it the rest of the way before making to put it back together again.]
A pretty shadow in a nice suit?
no subject
[(He doesn't know, himself, about Mettaton's relationship to touch or lack thereof. Someday he'll find out. He might cry. It wouldn't have affected him a year ago; he didn't care then.)]
[For now, it's easy to lean into the touch, to close his eyes. It's not quite trust, but--it's close. Closer than he probably ought to be.]
Yes. A pretty shadow in a nice suit. A very big shadow that spread over my whole city, and beyond. And hurt people, every minute of every day.
[He had it coming, so to speak.]
no subject
This isn't surprising. It should be, but Mettaton can't say he's finding himself surprised. He's spent the night watching how close and almost protective Giorno and Fugo are of each other, on top of what he's seen of them when they're apart. Giorno is too much like Mettaton: flashy and fun, but edged with distrust and emotionally distant. Fugo shuts off his already tepid emotions at the thought of opening up more. Together, they huddle in a corner and whisper like they're keeping watch of everyone else.
Hm. It feels like everyone on this team is beset by some sort of tragedy. May as well change the name to Angstentes.
........... (no, that one was bad. Bad, Mettaton.)]
They're very lucky you stood up to it, then. [It's very matter of fact, without a trace of judgement. He sounds like a parent mildly praising their child for giving their money to someone less fortunate.
We all do things for the greater good, don't we?]
Is that how you met Fugo?
no subject
[It'll occur to him later that he doesn't want or need anyone's praise, which is definitely true and not a lie at all. Then he'll feel weird about how happy this made him. But that's for later.]
[And then there's this question. Which is so insightful that Giorno twists briefly to look over his shoulder at Mettaton, to gauge his expression, before remembering himself and facing forward again. He likes to be seen, to be known, but sometimes--it's uncomfortable.]
. . . Yes. That's how. What--did I give it away?
no subject
He said you met through a mutual friend. Pardon my boldness, but Fugo-darling doesn't seem the type to have friends, none the less one that would be friends with someone as outgoing as you.
[He shrugs, briefly and gently working out a small tangle.]
And I run a media empire, remember? You don't get where I am without examining a lot of plots.
no subject
[Too late, he hears the vicious protectiveness in his voice. It's hard to catch himself quick enough when it comes to Fugo. But it's hardly something he feels he can be blamed for. He's sworn to protect Fugo, to carry the weight of his pain. If that doesn't go along with protection, what does?]
[Slowly, he forces his shoulders to relax and closes his eyes again, focusing on Mettaton's fingers in his hair.]
He didn't lie. We did meet through mutual friends. And then he helped me achieve my goals and make my city a better place.
[And then he's silent for a while. Leans against the touch, trying to think. Sometimes he has this urge--to put everything out there, to dare people who have gotten close to leave. He doesn't quite want that now, but--he can feel it coming.]
Most of our mutual friends are dead now, though. And it's my fault. That's why I snapped. [Or at least part of why.] Sorry.
no subject
He blinks, then goes back to combing his fingers through Giorno's hair, listening as he explains himself. Most of our mutual friends are dead. It's my fault.
...Mettaton's used to playing therapist with his friends. The subject's just never been this dour before.]
It's alright. My feelings aren't hurt. [Not like yours.]
[There's a soft shimmer to the air before one of Mettaton's little clones materializes in the air above Giorno's lap. It lands there with a flourish, reaching for one of his hands with tiny hands of its own.]
Did they get hurt because of something you did to them? Or because they believed in you? One is a lot easier to cast yourself as the martyr when you don't have to.
no subject
Both.
[He takes the clone's hands in his, a little tighter than he means to. He just wants to make sure they don't go anywhere, these Mettatons.]
I manipulated them to believe in me. To follow me. So it's both.