Mettaton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ratingspoint) wrote2015-12-20 02:41 am
ratingspoint) wrote2015-12-20 02:41 am
Entry tags:
001. [Video / Action for Goldenrod Rocket Base]
[VIDEO]
[This room is far too nondescript for his liking. Ugly, really. The blank walls, the positively spartan furniture setup...how boring.
But you know what, even if the room itself isn't a thrill a minute, that doesn't mean that the performance itself needs to be disappointing; this entire situation is unnerving, for so many damn reasons, but if there's anything Mettaton is good at, it's making the best of situations that have no damn bright side. Glitter and glamour, baby, let's do this shit.
The person on the feed today is pale and androgynous, with a set of four beauty marks on his face – two above his left eyebrow, two below his eye on the same side – and heavy black fringe covering his right eye entirely; he's pretty young-looking, the sort of person that's hitting a range between 19 and 22, maybe. His smile is bright, though, if tinged with quite a bit of arrogance, and his voice is both decidedly masculine and equally bright when he speaks, if rather flamboyant.]
Hello, beauties! While I would have appreciated advance notice before making my debut here, I suppose it's possible that my agent just didn't get the memo...
[...Based on how quickly the look in his eyes darkens at that, he's judging pretty much everything alive for that oversight; at the very least, however, it doesn't take long for his expression to brighten again.]
But! If the crowd thirsts for drama, you give them a storyline dedicated to knocking 'em dead; if they cry for action, you keep them on the edge of their seats! So if it's improv that you desire...well, who am I to say no?
As the star of the Underground, I understand that I'm in high demand – and if that demand extends here, I'm not one to turn down the exposure. Far from! If I've been brought to fill the void that my absence would surely leave in the hearts and minds of those here, then I look forward to providing the entertainment that every single one of you needs and deserves!
[He...pauses at that, though, his gaze darting down and away; the smile doesn't falter, per se, though it does become a little forced.]
However, I...don't suppose anyone could tell me the length of my contract...?
[a w k w a r d.
That said, once again it takes him an almost surreally short period of time to brighten up; seems that's just kind of a trend with him.]
...Anyway. However long I'm here, I'll be sure to give you a great show – you can expect nothing less from humanity's star!
[...This guy is not on the same plane of reality as literally anyone else, is he.]
[ACTION; ROCKET BASE]
[Good...afternoon, Rocket base! It's another of those weekends where the new arrivals usually show up, and judging from what's standing in one of your training rooms today, this isn't much of an exception. Sure, between the boots, the weird adornments on the chestplate (...the fact that he's wearing a fucking chestplate to begin with...), and literally just everything his damn outfit has decided to be today, this guy's looking sort of like a cross between the worst sentai villain the world has ever seen and an escapee from Cirque du Soleil who fled by way of Elton John's closet; however, he's currently bent forward with his hands braced against his thighs, looking at the Slugma on the ground in front of him with the universal "what the actual hell is this supposed to be" expression that's probably familiar to the regulars around here.
Every once in a while his hand twitches upward a little before fluttering back down, as though he's obviously trying to refrain from touching his face; after a while he smiles, though, pulling the Pokéball he's been palming out a bit more obviously and twirling it between his fingers.]
Well, sweetheart, it's time to see what your little friend looks like! I'm sure you're just as excited as I am, aren't you?
[...It's a little hard to say exactly how genuine that is; it's sort of a case of "my voice says 'excited' but my heart says 'no,'" but either way it gets a wiggle out of the fireslug and he keeps the smile in place, and that expression lasts until about the exact second that he actually sees exactly what his slug's "little friend" looks like.]
...Oh.
[That's. That's kind of the sole reaction one can have to the veritable ball of purple...crap that he's been given, isn't it.
A brief moment passes before he kind of crouches down next to it, getting more on its eye level; he's headtilting something fierce.]
Are you all right, darling, that looks sort of...
[He reaches out through impulse as though he's tempted to touch it before he seems to realize what he's doing and draws back, fingertips curling inward toward his palm. Not even with his gloves on, buddy, sorry.
He stands up again, hands moving to settle at his hips.]
Well, whatever. You're a bit of a work in progress, but I can work with it. We'll just have to...glitter you up a little.
[BECAUSE LITERALLY EVERYTHING IS FIXABLE WITH A BEDAZZLER AND A CAN-DO ATTITUDE oh my god why is this his life right now he hates everything.]
[This room is far too nondescript for his liking. Ugly, really. The blank walls, the positively spartan furniture setup...how boring.
But you know what, even if the room itself isn't a thrill a minute, that doesn't mean that the performance itself needs to be disappointing; this entire situation is unnerving, for so many damn reasons, but if there's anything Mettaton is good at, it's making the best of situations that have no damn bright side. Glitter and glamour, baby, let's do this shit.
The person on the feed today is pale and androgynous, with a set of four beauty marks on his face – two above his left eyebrow, two below his eye on the same side – and heavy black fringe covering his right eye entirely; he's pretty young-looking, the sort of person that's hitting a range between 19 and 22, maybe. His smile is bright, though, if tinged with quite a bit of arrogance, and his voice is both decidedly masculine and equally bright when he speaks, if rather flamboyant.]
Hello, beauties! While I would have appreciated advance notice before making my debut here, I suppose it's possible that my agent just didn't get the memo...
[...Based on how quickly the look in his eyes darkens at that, he's judging pretty much everything alive for that oversight; at the very least, however, it doesn't take long for his expression to brighten again.]
But! If the crowd thirsts for drama, you give them a storyline dedicated to knocking 'em dead; if they cry for action, you keep them on the edge of their seats! So if it's improv that you desire...well, who am I to say no?
As the star of the Underground, I understand that I'm in high demand – and if that demand extends here, I'm not one to turn down the exposure. Far from! If I've been brought to fill the void that my absence would surely leave in the hearts and minds of those here, then I look forward to providing the entertainment that every single one of you needs and deserves!
[He...pauses at that, though, his gaze darting down and away; the smile doesn't falter, per se, though it does become a little forced.]
However, I...don't suppose anyone could tell me the length of my contract...?
[a w k w a r d.
That said, once again it takes him an almost surreally short period of time to brighten up; seems that's just kind of a trend with him.]
...Anyway. However long I'm here, I'll be sure to give you a great show – you can expect nothing less from humanity's star!
[...This guy is not on the same plane of reality as literally anyone else, is he.]
[ACTION; ROCKET BASE]
[Good...afternoon, Rocket base! It's another of those weekends where the new arrivals usually show up, and judging from what's standing in one of your training rooms today, this isn't much of an exception. Sure, between the boots, the weird adornments on the chestplate (...the fact that he's wearing a fucking chestplate to begin with...), and literally just everything his damn outfit has decided to be today, this guy's looking sort of like a cross between the worst sentai villain the world has ever seen and an escapee from Cirque du Soleil who fled by way of Elton John's closet; however, he's currently bent forward with his hands braced against his thighs, looking at the Slugma on the ground in front of him with the universal "what the actual hell is this supposed to be" expression that's probably familiar to the regulars around here.
Every once in a while his hand twitches upward a little before fluttering back down, as though he's obviously trying to refrain from touching his face; after a while he smiles, though, pulling the Pokéball he's been palming out a bit more obviously and twirling it between his fingers.]
Well, sweetheart, it's time to see what your little friend looks like! I'm sure you're just as excited as I am, aren't you?
[...It's a little hard to say exactly how genuine that is; it's sort of a case of "my voice says 'excited' but my heart says 'no,'" but either way it gets a wiggle out of the fireslug and he keeps the smile in place, and that expression lasts until about the exact second that he actually sees exactly what his slug's "little friend" looks like.]
...Oh.
[That's. That's kind of the sole reaction one can have to the veritable ball of purple...crap that he's been given, isn't it.
A brief moment passes before he kind of crouches down next to it, getting more on its eye level; he's headtilting something fierce.]
Are you all right, darling, that looks sort of...
[He reaches out through impulse as though he's tempted to touch it before he seems to realize what he's doing and draws back, fingertips curling inward toward his palm. Not even with his gloves on, buddy, sorry.
He stands up again, hands moving to settle at his hips.]
Well, whatever. You're a bit of a work in progress, but I can work with it. We'll just have to...glitter you up a little.
[BECAUSE LITERALLY EVERYTHING IS FIXABLE WITH A BEDAZZLER AND A CAN-DO ATTITUDE oh my god why is this his life right now he hates everything.]