sans (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
punful) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-02-17 12:17 am
punful) wrote in entrancelogs2017-02-17 12:17 am
go back to sleep
Who: Sans and some figments of his imagination
Where: Sans's DREAMSCAPE
When: During the Subconscious Event
Rating: PG-13 for violence, suicidal ideation, self-hatred, and probably body horror
Summary: Sans is no stranger to nightmares.
The Story:
Everyone gets nightmares from time to time. It's not particularly uncommon. If Sans gets them more often than the average person, well, that's to be expected. It's fine. Not a big deal. He just wakes up and carries on with his day, whether it's the same day again or not.
It's different now. These dreams are vivid. They remind him of the dreams he used to have about someone who doesn't exist, and how when he woke up he could remember every horrible detail. Not just the typical blur of timelines and Resets and anomalies and vines and encroaching darkness. It's all sharp, almost lucid.
It sucks.
But he's no stranger to nightmares, not even vivid ones. Not even the ones where a friend wants to hurt him. You just train yourself not to wake up screaming.
Nothing new, really.
Max - of the way it stops (and starts)
He wakes up in Snowdin.
He always wakes up in Snowdin. The same day, the same room, the same unmade bed, the same sheets wadded into a creased, useless bundle at the opposite end. The same words issuing up from downstairs as Papyrus calls him, the same words every single time.
Only there's a girl standing in his room.
He wakes up in Snowdin.
The girl is still there.
And in a far corner, barely noticeable, is a shadow, like a hole in the dream.
Frisk - the blood runs crazy (with giant strides)
A golden hallway. Light issuing in through massive, stained-glass windows; a crack in the ceiling far up, allowing for late-afternoon rays of sunshine. He can only assume it's late-afternoon. How's a monster to really know?
A small human stands before him. An anomaly stands before him. Frisk stands before him.
Same old same old. Even the black space hidden behind a pillar, a gap in the dream, is familiar.
"on days like these, kids like you...well, you know the rest."
And he calls up his magic, ready for the same opening pattern he's used however many times now, and--
--nothing happens.
No sine wave. No bones. No blue. No Blasters.
No magic.
Nothing.
Zacharie - my enemy's invisible (i don't know how to fight)
Everything is black. No sky, no ground, no walls or ceiling. Nothing. Just blackness stretching forever. And floating above him in blazing white letters, is the word RESET?
The word flickers occasionally, colors running along the edges, the question mark pixellating at times.
He doesn't want to think about it. Tries so hard to not to think about it. But there's someone here who keeps reminding him, keeps forcing it into the back of his mind.
And at the edge of the darkness, a patch of black darker than the rest.
Mettaton - power, power (you had it too long)
He's sitting in some kind of hospital chair. Not strapped in, because this was his choice--but he might as well be. Can't move. Can't think. Can't do much but stare at the strange machine aimed for his chest.
Another familiar dream. Been here a thousand times before. Two figures at the edge of the room, obscured by static and visual tearing, not moving or speaking. A third figure, someone new, metallic form as clear as day.
"i changed my mind. i don't want to do this anymore."
They're not going to listen. They can't hear him.
Toriel - you told me not to (be like anybody else)
He stands in front of the Ruins door, the snow and earth torn to shreds around him. He caught them on the way out this time. Wanted to see if it would change anything.
It won't, he knows this. It has changed nothing. There's just a child in a green and yellow-striped sweater, lying dead on the ground, impaled by bones.
The Ruins door creaks open and there she is.
There's a shadow behind her, like a hole in the dream.
TBA
Where: Sans's DREAMSCAPE
When: During the Subconscious Event
Rating: PG-13 for violence, suicidal ideation, self-hatred, and probably body horror
Summary: Sans is no stranger to nightmares.
The Story:
Everyone gets nightmares from time to time. It's not particularly uncommon. If Sans gets them more often than the average person, well, that's to be expected. It's fine. Not a big deal. He just wakes up and carries on with his day, whether it's the same day again or not.
It's different now. These dreams are vivid. They remind him of the dreams he used to have about someone who doesn't exist, and how when he woke up he could remember every horrible detail. Not just the typical blur of timelines and Resets and anomalies and vines and encroaching darkness. It's all sharp, almost lucid.
It sucks.
But he's no stranger to nightmares, not even vivid ones. Not even the ones where a friend wants to hurt him. You just train yourself not to wake up screaming.
Nothing new, really.
Max - of the way it stops (and starts)
He wakes up in Snowdin.
He always wakes up in Snowdin. The same day, the same room, the same unmade bed, the same sheets wadded into a creased, useless bundle at the opposite end. The same words issuing up from downstairs as Papyrus calls him, the same words every single time.
Only there's a girl standing in his room.
He wakes up in Snowdin.
The girl is still there.
And in a far corner, barely noticeable, is a shadow, like a hole in the dream.
Frisk - the blood runs crazy (with giant strides)
A golden hallway. Light issuing in through massive, stained-glass windows; a crack in the ceiling far up, allowing for late-afternoon rays of sunshine. He can only assume it's late-afternoon. How's a monster to really know?
A small human stands before him. An anomaly stands before him. Frisk stands before him.
Same old same old. Even the black space hidden behind a pillar, a gap in the dream, is familiar.
"on days like these, kids like you...well, you know the rest."
And he calls up his magic, ready for the same opening pattern he's used however many times now, and--
--nothing happens.
No sine wave. No bones. No blue. No Blasters.
No magic.
Nothing.
Zacharie - my enemy's invisible (i don't know how to fight)
Everything is black. No sky, no ground, no walls or ceiling. Nothing. Just blackness stretching forever. And floating above him in blazing white letters, is the word RESET?
The word flickers occasionally, colors running along the edges, the question mark pixellating at times.
He doesn't want to think about it. Tries so hard to not to think about it. But there's someone here who keeps reminding him, keeps forcing it into the back of his mind.
And at the edge of the darkness, a patch of black darker than the rest.
Mettaton - power, power (you had it too long)
He's sitting in some kind of hospital chair. Not strapped in, because this was his choice--but he might as well be. Can't move. Can't think. Can't do much but stare at the strange machine aimed for his chest.
Another familiar dream. Been here a thousand times before. Two figures at the edge of the room, obscured by static and visual tearing, not moving or speaking. A third figure, someone new, metallic form as clear as day.
"i changed my mind. i don't want to do this anymore."
They're not going to listen. They can't hear him.
Toriel - you told me not to (be like anybody else)
He stands in front of the Ruins door, the snow and earth torn to shreds around him. He caught them on the way out this time. Wanted to see if it would change anything.
It won't, he knows this. It has changed nothing. There's just a child in a green and yellow-striped sweater, lying dead on the ground, impaled by bones.
The Ruins door creaks open and there she is.
There's a shadow behind her, like a hole in the dream.
TBA
no subject
"You know how, Sans. But you refuse."
He adjusts the machine, changing the levels and blatantly taking it out of the 'safe zone'. He hums a bit as he does, checking other aspects of the machine before looking back to Sans with that same severe look from before. He opens his mouth but the voice is... different.
"Six seconds, Sans, we're almost there."
The beam increases, growing brighter and brighter, and the last thing Sans sees are Mettaton's metal eyes glinting in the light as he mouths Three...two...one!
no subject
"s-stop, stop. i-i'll tell you everything, i'll talk, i'll do what you want, j-just please, st--"
He trails off with a sharp gasp when he sees what Mettaton is doing.
"no, no, don't!"
The light intensifies until it's blinding as Mettaton increases the levels, letting soul power pour out of the machine unchecked.
Sans's soul ruptures and he screams.
Mettaton speaks and his form changes, and it's him, and he's grinning and grinning and grinning and Sans can feel his soul shredding, not the instant shattering it's supposed to be, nothing quick about this. It's slow, his soul coming undone piece by piece.
He sees Mettaton--him--Mettaton--watching him, and then everything goes white.
His soul finally shatters.
And he wakes up.