middaeg | feb catch-all

Entry tags:

feb catch-all

Who: Mettaton & open!
When: Throughout Feoveuer
Where: Various
What: Mettaton, a robot, learns to live, laugh, and love......... No, he learns to sleep and taste, as a biological necessity. He takes full advantages of these mortal splendors by sleeping! in! beds!, and eating your Valentine's chocolate while asking you on the date you deserve. There's also a prompt to follow up on his pursuit for a cure to metal weakness. Plus some closed prompts! Feel free to get in touch via MTT's plotting comment if you'd like a custom prompt.
Warnings: usual MTT drama

1. Fact: Mettaton owns a bed. He's never needed it.

A. A Refrigerator Blocks The Way

[First of all, I deceived you. There's a prompt where Mettaton is sleeping... but not in a bed.

Mettaton has developed a peculiar new... ability. Truth be told, it was something he tapped into starting in Iuneril, when he found himself desperate for energy while in the Rathmore's dungeon and slipped into dreamland. He shouldn't have been able to last that entire stay in his EX body, exerting himself as he did! So how did he do it?

In any inappropriate area of your choosing, there is a big metal box. These inappropriate areas may include, but are not limited to...
the middle of the street in the Entertainment District,
blocking a doorway to the Coven,
or even in your front yard.
The metal box kind of looks like it could be a game machine, or some other kind of puzzle-deploying apparatus...? But it must be broken. Its screen is off. Closing in on it suggests further that it must be broken, for it's emitting some kind of repetitive noise...]

ZZZZZZZZ...

[This robot keeps saying "Z" out loud repeatedly, sincerely asleep. Move it with force?]

B. If You're All Alone...

[How incredible! Mettaton's realized it: he's truly able to sleep, just like people do. Most surprisingly, he hasn't needed to recharge in weeks, so sleeping has its obvious benefit.

This time, Mettaton EX sleeps with far more purpose, though he still does so in inappropriate places with more intent. The TV star sleeps in places where he can be noticed, as if drawing attention to the fact that look, he's asleep! Really! While I leave this to your decision, a few ideas include...
sleeping in a reclining position atop a desk,
invading your very own HOUSE and occupying your COUCH or your BED, my GOD,
or... cradled in the palms of a statue with its arms outstretched, in the center of an ornate fountain, like he's god's gift to mankind.
All I'm saying is that you really couldn't come up with a location too ridiculous for Mettaton to be sleeping in. He'll sleep atop a piano, or on a chandelier and tell you it's like he's in a music video! But no matter where he sleeps, he does so peacefully with a satisfied smile.

But he should definitely be stopped. He's a menace, he might break something with how heavy he is, and therefore he's a hazard.]

2. Fact: Mettaton enjoys feeding himself grapes seductively atop pianos.

[It's edging close to the 14^th, and though Aefenglom treats Valentine's Day like a foreign concept, many of the Mirrorbound still seem determined to uphold their own traditions. With the full moon having come and gone, Mettaton's discovered a surprising, unique new sensation that has him floored, and overwhelmed: taste.

There's so much in this city to try that it's dizzying. That Mettaton EX him rushing up to the next Mirrorbound he finds carrying food, be it chocolate, a croissant, or an indeterminate abomination of un-food. It doesn't matter. His golden eye is bright with curiosity, his smile brimming with excitement.]

Hey there, beautiful! I see you're indulging in the wonders of edible delights. Care to share... with me?? Ooh, what a fabulous opportunity for some intimacy, as Valentine's Day hovers so close by! Could it be... A date??

[A date where Mettaton eats your food, and rates it.]

3. Fact: Mettaton's GOing To Patent This Enchantment As MTT-Brand Metal Benadryl

I DON'T FEEL IT ANYMORE... THAT PERSISTENT BURN, THAT AGONIZING CORROSION. IT'S LIKE I'M A BRAND NEW ROBOT!!

[Mettaton carries with him two different things related to his latest appeal for help: spells pre-loaded onto thick slips of paper for any Monster weak against various metals, and the actual alchemical enchantment's instructions and requirements for the curious Witch. His screen blinks yellow and red with his brand new relief, and he spins around.

When he notices somebody nearby, he wheels up to them and...
if they appear to be a Witch, he will pull out the technical instructions on how to conduct the enchantment.
if they appear to be a Monster, particularly of a Puca, Vampire, Turnskin, or Fae persuasion, he'll pull out one of the slips of paper.]

DARLING! PERHAPS YOU'D BE INTERESTED IN THE LATEST IN ENCHANTMENTS. IF IT CAN WORK ON ME TO THIS DEGREE... I'M SEEING A PROMISING FUTURE FOR THIS BREAKTHROUGH SPELL!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ ＊ Screaming is against the rules.

Mettaton laughs, his display shifting solid red. What is going on? Why did this man go from wrenching him back and forth, to screaming? He doesn't let Stiles go, his grip tightening when his volume increases. There is actually only one prompt Mettaton accepts here, and that is to Unscream.

That's probably the only one. There is no prize. He raises his other hand and presses his finger... against Stiles's lips. Shhh. ]

OH, PLEASE. YOU'RE NOT THE ONE WHO WOKE UP TO SOME STRANGER ROCKING YOUR BODY LIKE HE'S TRYING TO SHAKE CHANGE FROM YOUR POCKETS! AS IF YOU HAVE SOME REASON TO BE SCREAMING! OR WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO GIVE YOU ONE...???

[ Going cross-eyed attractively from looking at the finger pressed against his lips, Stiles obediently shuts the fuck up. The implicit threat (offer??) is treated to an enthusiastic head shake signaling no, no he would not like that, thank you very much. After another failed attempt to free himself from the vending machine’s grip, he gives up. Just totally surrenders to his fate. Take him, death! He’s ready. ]

W-woke up!? Who…what… Oh my god, you’re the mermaid robot.

[ No, Stiles. That’s Connor. It’s very ignorant of you to confuse two different machines simply because they aren’t flesh and blood. For shame. ]

[Good, words. But they're such bad words, ones that give Mettaton such heavy pause that he finds himself... at a loss. Him, at a loss.

Death releases his wrist, so stupefied by Stiles's guess. But Mettaton still blocks the way.]

SIGH. ...I AM SO IMPRESSED AT THE SHEER MAGNITUDE... OF HOW WRONG YOU ARE! FIRST OFF, THAT'S CONNOR. SECOND OFF... DO I APPEAR MUCH LIKE A MERMAID TO YOU, DARLING??? DO YOU SEE ANY DECORATIVE FINS FLANKING EITHER SIDE OF MY VISAGE? [With his newly freed hands, he mimes these fins that Merrow have.] ABOUT THE ONLY THING YOU MANAGED TO CAPTURE IN YOUR RIDICULOUS ASSUMPTION... IS THAT WE ARE BOTH ROBOTS.

[For Connor's sake, he is NOT telling this guy that Connor doesn't look like a traditional robot. He doesn't need to meet this fool.]

MY NAME IS METTATON! AND I'M NO MERROW. I'M A PUCA!!

[ Blessed freedom! The vending machine launches into a lengthy explanation that Stiles’ panicky mind does not absorb whatsoever. At one point, the robot fans its chassis with its hands to the effect of fins, as if to demonstrate just how brilliantly correct his deduction was. Yes, this is without a doubt the mermaid robot that Sasuke described to him – though Stiles admittedly doesn’t see any gills. As the vending machine continues to drone on, Stiles backs up slowly inch by inch until his backside hits the sink.

Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, he tries to quietly turn the faucet on. As the vending machine finally stops talking – something about a puca or hookah, Stiles really was not listening – he enacts his plan by cupping both hands beneath the flowing faucet and then, with a shout of triumph, hurling that water at the robot. Show your true self, fiend! ]

[ Turns out that letting him go... Was a mistake!! If he had his wheel deployed, he'd be able to maneuver out of the way of that water in a speedy slide, but he doesn't, and it's too late for that.

Mettaton is splashed with water. ]

. . . . .

[ He's absolutely frozen, his finger still pointed conversationally, before he... wipes his gloved hand over his display, to sweep the liquid from his face. His monitor flicks deep red. ]

HOW BRAZENLY INCONSIDERATE. I DON'T KNOW WHETHER THAT WAS BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT I COULD BE SO EASILY DAMAGED... OR IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE THAT I'M NOT A MERROW.

[ Finally, he deploys his wheel and uses it to advance into the bathroom, coming right for Stiles. gonna GRAB FOR HIM AGAIN, FREEDOM PRIVILEGES REVOKED ]

DON'T DO THAT TO THE ACTUAL CONNOR. IF I WERE A MERROW... I WOULD BE FLOUNDERING, WITHOUT A BODY OF WATER NEARBY!

[ The surprise water attack was…completely ineffective!? What fresh bullshit is this!? Like, not only did it fail to make the vending machine spontaneously combust (as if a flick of water could achieve that, c’mon Stiles), but there’s also a disappointing lack of mermaid scales being revealed. In fact, all that it seems he managed to do is annoy the vending machine. Oh god, he annoyed the vending machine – OH GOD THE VENDING MACHINE IS MOBILE. Flailing, Stiles tries to duck away from the outstretched arm. ]

Okay, okay, okay! I surrender!

[ Stiles is currently trying to fit his nearly six-foot-tall body under the sinks in an attempt to hide from the big bad vending machine. ]

Please…give a man some breathing room…

I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT IS HAPPENING BEFORE ME. HOWEVER. I CAN'T SAY I'M NOT AMUSED BY YOUR COWARDICE... IN THE FACE OF AN INCREDIBLY LOVABLE MACHINE!

[ How good of Stiles to surrender. Some actual words and promise that he's going to try doing something with his lungs that isn't screaming sufficiently reassures the TV star, for now, and Mettaton's screen flickers to a sunny yellow color.

As requested, he quits trying to reach for him. Stiles is already compacted under the sinks... He basically restrained himself. Mettaton shrugs with his arms. ]

ARE YOU REALLY SO SCARED OF A HARMLESS ROBOT?? REALLY. IT'S KIND OF EMBARRASSING, DARLING!

Harmless my ass, [ he mutters, hopefully under his breath, but who knows. Then, louder, he says: ] That’s cool. I’ll, uh, just be embarrassing then. It’s kinda part of growing up, after all. Being an embarrassment.

[ Wow, it sure is uncomfortable doing the pretzel down here beneath the sinks! Stiles fidgets, peering up at Mettaton warily before deciding: No, he’s not ready to come out yet. ]

Also, I’ve seen “Transformers” and “Terminator” and “I, Robot.” No way are you convincing me with that “Look, I’m a cute, innocent vending machine” crap.

OOOH, HAVE YOU, NOW? FINALLY, SOMEBODY WHO'S SEEN SOME TV AROUND HERE.

[ Yes, he focuses on that first and foremost. He mimes his appreciation with a hand cupping his "cheek," or the approxmation of its location. ]

BUT I SHOULD HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I'M A COMPLETE GENRE BENDER!! AS IF I'D BE SO PREDICTABLE! IF I WERE TRULY SO DETERMINED TO OBLITERATE YOU, I WOULD HAVE ALREADY SEEN TO IT. REALLY. THE FURTHEST THING FROM MY AMBITIONS IS HARMING A HUMAN.

[ Genre bender, ha! That almost cracks a grin out of Stiles before he remembers: scary vending machine, could totally kill him, does not actually have Cheetos for sale. ]

Okay, but… If it’s about not being predictable, you’ll wait until I get to know you, start to warm up to you, let down my guard, think of you as a friend – then BAM. Assassination.

[ A pause. ]

Or would that be predictable too? I mean, the tropes are all so overdone. I almost don’t know what to believe anymore. Oh, except not trusting you. I definitely believe in that.

[ If he had Cheeots, would he be less scary. . . ?

Mettaton shrugs his arms, his screen dimming significantly as he continues to occupy the center of the bathroom. Have fun pretzeling down there for longer yet, Stiles. ]

SIIIGH. [ He did voice that, yes. ] YOU ARE CONTINUING TO BELIEVE IN ONE OF THE LEAST ACCURATE TROPES TO YOUR PRESENT SITUATION. BUT, WHATEVER!! I CAN'T STOP YOU FROM FINDING MY PRESENCE COMMANDING ENOUGH TO SEND SHIVERS DOWN YOUR SPINE!! EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO INTENTION OF CARRYING OUT AN ASSASSINATION PLOT, RIGHT NOW. ...NOT TO SAY THAT I HAVEN'T PARTICIPATED IN AN ARDENT AND TUMULTUOUS PLOT... INVOLVING THE PLANNED MURDER OF A HUMAN. BUT THAT'S NEITHER HERE NOR THERE!

[ If Mettaton's trying to win himself any points, admitting to that might not be the wisest of plans. The truth is, he doesn't care. ]

ANYWAY. HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT THE THINGS YOU SEE IN MOVIES... ARE ACTING???

[ This is the most self-aware thing Mettaton could possibly say, ever. He needs to say this to himself every once in a while. ]

[ Cheetos would only make this situation even more terrifying, honestly. ]

Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just tell me that you’ve planned to kill a human before. Because I don’t feel like pissing myself, and I can’t even reach the sinks right now to wash my hands if I did.

[ If someone pissed themselves, washing their hands would probably be the least of their concerns. ]

Yeah, movies and TV are all acting. Obviously! That doesn’t mean the plots are irrelevant! Some are based on true stories. We probably wouldn’t win any Oscars for this story though. A sentient vending machine harasses a poor lost soul in a restroom? Lame.

[ Says the “poor lost soul” currently cowering under the sinks. ]

OH. IF I WERE ACTING RIGHT NOW, IT WOULD BLOW YOUR MIND, GORGEOUS. TRUST ME.

[ He flicks his wrist dismissively, his monitor red. He switches quickly to a bored sort of appearance by examining his nails... of which he has none, at present. ]

MY ADVICE? IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR HEADSTONE TO SAY THAT YOU DIED UNDERNEATH A SINK IN A RESTROOM LIKE A FOOLISH COWARD... YOU REALLY OUGHT TO EMERGE, AND BEHAVE NORMALLY! YOU MIGHT BE SURPRISED AT HOW NON-DEAD YOU'LL REMAIN THROUGHOUT THIS INTERACTION. THE THINGS! YOU COULD DO!! UPON RESUMING NORMALCY!!! YOU COULD, FOR EXAMPLE, INTRODUCE YOURSELF TO ME. AND REGARD ME AS SENTIENT AND FEELING, OF WHICH I AM BOTH.

[ Oh. Oh my. Well, that’s the first time anyone has called him “gorgeous” before. Stiles, who hasn’t felt a shred of embarrassment over almost anything romantic or sexual since the day his father caught him adjusting chains around his then-girlfriend’s wrists, now actually flushes. Aw, shucks. Gorgeous. Mettaton, you smooth talker, you! Wait. Possible life or death situation with an irritated vending machine. Right. ]

Behave normally!? You’re the one who barricaded me in here!

[ That said, his limbs are aching from holding this awkward position. With a nervous glance up at Mettaton, Stiles finally ducks back out from under the sinks. ]

But…you do seem sentient and emotional, [ he admits slowly, torn between being intrigued and terrified by this notion. ] Introduce yourself first.

[ Mettaton has already introduced himself, actually. Unfortunately, Stiles was too stupid with terror to actually listen at the time. ]

[ He hardly barricaded him in here if it was on accident! But if his term of endearment earned him sentience, it's all for the better.

Mettaton does cross his arms at the request to reintroduce himself. He'll make that displeasure known. ]

IT'S ALMOST AS IF YOU HAVEN'T BEEN LISTENING TO ME... THIS ENTIRE TIME. BECAUSE I ALREADY INTRODUCED MYSELF. BACK WHEN I WAS TELLING YOU THAT I WAS NOT CONNOR. HOW EMBARRASSING FOR YOU, HAHA...

FORTUNATELY FOR YOU, I NEVER TIRE OF SAYING MY OWN NAME! IT'S A NAME BEFITTING OF A FAMOUS STAR SUCH AS MOI. [ And on cue, his monitor displays the letter M. ] I'M METTATON. MAKE SURE TO KEEP THAT CLOSE TO YOUR HEART, DARLING!

[ His screen displays a heart instead now, and he motions toward Stiles. ]

AND? YOU? DON'T KEEP ME WAITING!!

[ This sentient, feelings-capable vending machine sure does come on strong. Too strong. Talk about sensory overload. Stiles’ ADHD is currently seizing in the background while his brain reboots from all this fabulousness. ]

Mettaton, [ he repeats dubiously. ] And not…Metatron, right? J-just checking…

[ Because? Honestly? Knowing Aefenglom? The vending machine could be an angel of religious mythology OR the leader of the Decepticons. Either is as likely at this point. Though – and maybe he just isn’t remembering childhood cartoons well – he doesn’t remember the latter being this…flamboyant. ]

Uh, anyway, you can call me Stiles.

[ His real name is too irritating to give out. Now properly introduced, he squints at Mettaton’s screen curiously. ]

You’re kinda like a tamagotchi.

[ Vending machine. Mermaid. Angel. Decepticon. Tamagotchi. One day, Stiles will settle on something. That day is not today. ]

METATRON. METTATON. WELL. [ That heart blinks, as though to suggest that he'd display it if it weren't already there. ] I'M GLAD YOU DREW SUCH A CONNECTION! YOU MAY TREAT ME TO THE SAME LEVEL OF RESPECT THAT YOU MIGHT ASCRIBE TO AN ANGEL... WHO SPEAKS THE VOICE OF GOD. AHAHA.

[ Here he is, comparing himself to an angel. What does he know about religion? Enough to stroke his ego.

Being likened to a tamagotchi is a little less flattering, but it kind of... makes sense. He seems to ponder this for a moment further. Alphys... besides her garbage can with cute pink filters, what else was she modeling this body on? ]

A... TAMAGOTCHI. I'D NEVER CONSIDERED THAT. [ But it all tracks... His screen switches yellow, and Mettaton shrugs with his arms. ] WELL, STILES, DARLING. I'M GLAD THAT WE'VE BOTH COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT I'M ABOUT AS HARMLESS AS AN ANGEL OR A TAMAGOTCHI... RATHER THAN AS DANGEROUS AS A TERMINATOR. ARE YOU CONVINCED YET? THAT I AM NOT OUT TO HARM YOU.

Nope, [ he answers with his usual blasé honesty. ] But don’t get offended, okay? That’s pretty standard for me. I guess I’ve mentally downgraded you from terminator-level threat to regular everyone-sucks-don’t-trust-them threat. So, congrats!

[ That said, Stiles is extremely tired of being in this cramped, musty bathroom. He tries to edge around Mettaton and toward the door. ]

Uh, by the way, are you a guy robot or a girl robot or a none-of-the-above robot?

[ Because he has no clue, and referring to Mettaton as “it” seems…well… Rude? ]

[ How nice, to earn the right to be a normal threat and not a terminator threat. That he has to work to that. What a piece of work, this Stiles guy is.

But the question isn't too upsetting to him. He raises a pointer finger once Stiles has made his way outside of the bathroom, deciding to do the... patient thing, in allowing him to exit first, like a true gentleman. Mostly because Mettaton's getting the feeling that he's a jumpy sort, and might take his advance to mean violence, or something equally ridiculous. ]

I AM A MAN. I SHOULD HOPE MY DEEP AND BOOMING VOICE... WOULD HINT TOWARD MY PREFERENCE FOR MASCULINITY. BUT I UNDERSTAND. SUCH THINGS CAN BE DECEIVING. SIMILARLY, I ASSUME YOU ARE A MAN. BUT DO CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG, STILES, DARLING.

[ Humans can also defy such expectation. Not just metal boxes. ]

[ Once outside the bathroom, some of the tension bleeds from his body language. Mettaton is still a sight to behold, but at least the robot doesn’t make quite so ominous a silhouette in the light of day. Shuffling to the side to make room for his new acquaintance, Stiles considers both this new information and the question in return. ]

Totally a man, [ he agrees with a nod, hands on his hips. ] Just wanted to check. What’s with all the “darling” pet names, by the way? I can’t decide if it’s cute or creepy.

OBVIOUSLY, I AM AN AFFECTIONATE AND PERSONABLE ROBOT. WHY, I'VE DONE IT FOR MY WHOLE LIFE! THOUGH DON'T MISTAKEN IT FOR A PROGRAMMED VERBAL TIC. [ He wags a finger. ] I USE TERMS OF ENDEARMENT BY FREE WILL. IT'S WHAT I DO.

[ He doesn't like suggesting that any part of him is programmed, and will always, always state that they're not unless it's convenient for some act.

God, this better not be a second person to tell him to stop. Because he can't. ]

[ Squinting at Mettaton, he tries to determine just how sincere the robot is. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to tell when the only “expression” he has to go off of is a…screen. After a moment of consideration, Stiles shrugs; it’s a little strange, but ultimately harmless. Don’t worry, Mettaton. He won’t request you to stop doing it. ]

Alright. Just don’t expect me to be saying them back. I only use pet names after at least the third date. I gotta stay classy.

[ Mettaton waves a hand to dismiss the lack of pet names, which most people don't reciprocate anyway. ]

NO OFFENSE TAKEN, DARLING! I UNDERSTAND. IT TAKES SOMEONE WITH THE MAGNETISM OF A STAR... TO DOLE OUT AFFECTIONATE NICKNAMES UPON FIRST MEETING. IT'S KIND OF MY THING, ANYWAY. NOT TO SAY I WOULD NEVER ACCEPT THEM IN RETURN...

[ Well, with that firmly addressed, Mettaton brushes his hands together as though dusting them from an unsightly issue. ]

IF YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING. ASIDE FROM ROBOTS... WHY DO YOU FEEL EVERYONE IS UNTRUSTWORTHY? HOW DO YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE, KEEPING PEOPLE AT SUCH AN ARM'S LENGTH?? INDULGE A ROBOT'S CURIOSITY.

[ It’s an extremely valid question, but Stiles treats it to the same level of dismissive humor that he does everything. ]

Easily, [ he chirps with faux cheer, seemingly unbothered by the questions. ] By keeping people at arm’s length, I actually get to live. Amazing how that works. It’s almost like blindly trusting strangers is unhealthy.

[ Cue pointed look at his new robot acquaintance, though Stiles doesn’t actually appear to be that concerned about his safety anymore. ]

[ With a yellow screen, Mettaton places three dots across one of the lower rows perfectly spaced apart, like an ellipse. ]

...DO YOU REGULARLY ENCOUNTER SITUATIONS WHERE YOUR LIFE IS THREATENED.

[ How many people are just... constantly in danger, where they're from? Try coming from a place where trusting completely a stranger comes before even learning their name! ]

IS THAT WHY YOU'RE LIKE THIS.

(no subject)

mensrea - 2020-04-02 14:28 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

feb catch-all

no subject

no subject

no subject

i'm sorry

bless this mess

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Apologies for the wait!

no worries!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)