entrancelogs | It may very well be the worst thing that's ever happened to you!

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It may very well be the worst thing that's ever happened to you! | OPEN MINGLE

Who: EVERYONE!
Where: EVERYWHERE!
When: Friday October 27th - Tuesday October 31st
Rating: PG-13, warn if you're gonna go higher!
Summary: A catch all for the Horrible Memory Truth Event!
The Story:

For the duration of this event, everyone's entire room will be replaced with a memory playing on loop. They will likely recognize the moment as soon as they see it – it is a moment they remember as the worst moment of their entire lives. It could be a memory from home or something that happened in Wonderland. Lengths of the memories will vary, but they will find that these are not memories they can merely watch – they can step into these memories and attempt to make changes to them, and the memories will be long enough that they have time to make changes (though no more than 24 hours). However, anyone who tries will find that it is futile. No matter what you do or how hard you try, the outcome is always exactly the same somehow. No changes you make will prevent that horrible outcome. It just happens over and over and over again no matter what you do.

On top of that, perhaps complicating any attempts to make changes, everyone will be forced to be honest for the duration of the event. No lies or half-truths are allowed, and filters will be gone for the entire five days. If something bothers someone then they will blurt it out, regardless of whether or not it hurts someone's feelings, and no one will be able to simply keep quiet when they have something to say. They must be truthful and honest with every word they say.

This is a catch-all log for all of your Worst Memory needs! Please mark your threads clearly in the subject line with your character's name and Room Number + Floor for character rooms, or just location if you're making a top level for a public place in the mansion (like the tea rooms or the kitchen) so people can see if there's already a thread available. And here's the plot post if you need it!

Have fun!

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He has no idea what to do.

He never knows what to do. Every time he's managed this before he's had to...cheat. Teleported Frisk and Chara back to their room before it could get worse. Put himself between the two. Didn't even try hard enough with Napstablook, because they went and tried anyway. Held onto Mettaton so he wouldn't keep going, knowing Mettaton wouldn't risk Sans.

Dumb fucking luck, that's all it is. Being rational doesn't work. Being manipulative doesn't work, plus it's unbelievably fucked up. He could just tell Tim that if he goes, Sans will just follow him, but that's such a fucked up thing to say and do. He could just grab Tim and teleport him and risk some kind of breakdown, and Tim would hate him, and then he might just try again.

It almost sounds like him and Frisk. Complicated. Something you can't easily name. How he never knows what to do with them, how when he tries, he gets everything, every little thing, completely wrong. Couldn't save them in Quor'toth. Couldn't save Chara. Couldn't just...be a good enough person that Frisk wouldn't need to cut him out of their life like a tumor.

"i get it."

Should have been me.

"i don't...know what to say that'll...keep you here."

He has to try, though, god, he has to keep trying. He can't do this again. And isn't that hilarious? Didn't he just say that of course he can? He can, and he will, keep losing people, and he'll keep on living and surviving and trying to deal with it, because the world, one way or another, never lets him be the first one to go. The one time it did was one of the worst things he has ever, ever done.

"it's not."

It's not so terrible. That's the problem.

"dying is easy. being dead is easy. but then--you wake up."

You wake up in Snowdin, wondering why your chest aches so much, wondering why it feels like your ribs were cracked open and fused back together all wrong. And you think about how there's only really one reason why it would feel that way.

You wake up in your room and your brother stares at you with a look you have never seen before. You check the network and you see your brother using that word, vacation, and he got that from you, didn't he, because you lied to him, you created a code word that only you really knew, but he picked up on it somehow, because he always does. He's always so much more clever and observant that anyone expects.

"you wake up. and then you have to live with it. you have to be alive again. everything aches. your skull--your head is pounding. you breathe and it hurts. you're whole and intact, but something--you can feel something missing. and you have to just keep living. you keep living, and you have to remember what it was like. you have to see the looks on people's faces. you have to live with the fact that i'll know what you've done. and i'm sorry. i'm sorry i did that to you. you'll have to live with the fact that jay will probably find out, because he's...well, he's nosy. they either find out way later, months later, and they look at you like...i mean, death is so commonplace around here, you'd think no one would be freaked out about it anymore. but they are, and that's probably a good thing. that death still has meaning to people."

"they find out a few months from now, and it's this secret you were keeping from them. and every time someone finds out, they look at you the way clem looked at me at movie night. or--they know it while you're gone. and they sit there. they count hours. seconds. they hold a jar of your dust. and then you wake up, and they were waiting for you. you can see it on their face right away. they burst into your room begging you to do something inane and silly so that neither of you have to think about it for a minute. they say how sorry they are, that that happened to you. and if they know, then there's that extra layer. they know you were willing to do that to yourself. they wonder if you'll do it again. they watch you. it's in the back of their heads from then on. they're constantly waiting, constantly on guard, and they tell themselves they won't let you do that to yourself again. they'll take all the sharp objects out of the room and put plastic covers on all the sharp corners, like that'll really dissuade someone with so much determination. they treat you like a bomb that could go off at any time. like you're fragile."

He slumps against the tree. Talking too much. Speechifying. Doesn't he always? This isn't going to change anything. Like he said--you can't really stop someone with that much Determination.

"you wake up, and it's so, so much worse."

I know you well. [He passes them over to her.] And it's way easier to take care of you than focus on what I need.

[He winces and leans back, pulling a pillow over his face.]

Like a gag.

[Her head is in her hands, as she desperately reaches for some idea on how to fix this. How to fight this. But she comes up blank again, always blank, because she's already tried everything she can think of.

She starts at the voice, recoiling from Frisk and attempting to stand.

How did they...?

Thoughts about how Frisk got inside, how she failed to notice, are lost amid the impact of their words. Max stutters as she sinks back onto the floor. Her voice is weak, soft, with no conviction behind it. Only truth.]

I- c-can't-

[Around the corner, the bathroom door opens. Nathan's voice is joined by Chloe's. There's a frantic look in Max's eyes, desperation mixed with fear.

She raises her hand, and the whole world twists around her and Frisk, colors blurring and a wind howling through the bathroom. Time inches backward weakly, starting and stopping. Max clutches her head with her other hand, groaning.]

Shh.

[The world scales back again. Max is hurting, all over, and Frisk slowly drops into a crouch just opposite her. She can't do this for much longer. They know she can't. The strain might even kill her, and how could anyone be saved from that?]

Max. You have to stop.

You have to stop.

[You have to let her go.]

[Alphys has been to the Second Gallery maybe once. She remembers going here when it opened, seeing pictures of her friends, wanting to come support her friend's Wonderland venture. It's been a while since she and Max have talked, anyway. She's feeling nostalgic when she wanders in here, not expecting to actually find anyone and jumping when she sees that Max is actually here.]

Oh, o-oh gosh, I'm sorry, I'll go, ohmygoodness.

All that judgment. All that cold resignation. Their words are flat. This is happening, and they hate it, and he hates it, but there's nothing either of them can do.

So they've both stopped trying to fight.

"frisk..."

And it's true. There's a lot he wants to ask. A lot he refused to ask, that he told himself he would leave buried, because that's how it should be. For god's sake, the kid should be allowed to keep something. Something he doesn't know about, something he doesn't claw out of them.

He wants to ask what he did. He wants to ask how he can help. He wants to ask what makes them happy, what would be best for them.

"...can we fix this?"

It wasn't too late for him. It wasn't too late for Chara, and it wasn't too late for their...friendship, or whatever it is. The bridge hadn't burned. It can still be mended. They're both mending it.

But Chara is not Frisk.

"is it too late?"

I had my suspicions, yes. I suppose I gave you a bit of leeway because something about your demeanor seemed to make me think that you may have been going through some kind of issues.

If you do not appreciate my kindness, though, then fine. You are not a child. I have no obligation to try and help you, so I will not offer it to you.

Leave.

[Toriel's just... really not in the mood to deal with this. Her fuse is pretty short right now, and Lapis already seems to have reached the end of it.]

Max has been wandering aimlessly. A normal day in Wonderland usually means watching DVDs, reading books, practicing her guitar. But everything's in her room and... she can't go back there. She's too frightened to go into any of the regular rooms.

Instead she checks various common areas, looking for one with few or no people. The music room is one of the first places she tries- there's a guitar in there, even if it's not hers, and she can... try to treat this like a normal day.

She knows that would never work.

The door opens slowly and Max peers inside, standing at the threshold. It takes her a moment to catch sight of Elizabeth.

"Oh. Hey."

Edited 2017-10-31 03:41 (UTC)

( Clementine has been looking for Dipper. People have to tell the truth, but she still can't help herself. She needs to check on her people, because when the truth comes out, it can make things dangerous in a different but damaging way.

She's protective.

She finds him in the library, and she's already worried. Maybe she just knows him well enough to start to see when he's struggling even if he's not the type to show it outwardly, and she doesn't want to force him to but she wants to take care of him too like he did for her, seeking her out after she died. There are a lot of reasons why it's hard to show it outwardly.

She sinks down near him. )

Hey, I was looking for you.

[She's already moving. Right past him. He steps aside to give her more space--just in case she changes her mind about killing him.]

[Other than that, he doesn't move. He drops his gaze to the ground.]

alright.

[If either of those kids tell him they don't want him in their life, then he will listen. That will be the end of it.]

[Like this is the end of something else.]

[Alphys is also trying to find someplace to hide out, walking down the halls swaddled in a pink fluffy magical girl blanket and poking her head into tearooms before she settles. She opens the door, not expecting anyone to actually be there, but shirks back immediately when she sees who it actually is. Oh, damn. Oh damn.]

I'm sorry, I-- I didn't think there was anyone in here.

[Red's pours her second drink before actually thinking about what Claire actually said. By World War Two, British Uniforms were as far from red as possible.]

You were in the Second World War, and your husband was captured by British Redcoats? How is that possible?

[He hopes he heard her correctly and it wasn't the alcohol playing tricks on him.]

[He smiles very gently.]

thank you.

[It's not really safe, and one or both of them will probably come up with some way to turn this around, but for now it can just be...simple. And god does he need simple right now.]

[He takes the bag when it's offered, pulling out a spare pair of needles and a ball of blue thread. There's not much, but maybe he can make a single sock. It'd be kind of funny if he had just one sock without a mate. Then he sits down in the chair opposite them.]

i remember the knit and purl stitches. it's just casting on and off. it always gets away from me.

[As soon as she makes it out of the lab, she goes over to him.

If this is an event about seeing something horrible, about reliving it-- she needs to make sure he's already out of there, even if that means she's running into danger. She considers bringing a weapon, or calling someone, but she doesn't know what's going to be in there. And even that, is horrifying. She stands outside the door, hand on the knob, for what feels like an eternity before she opens it and looks inside.

And oh. Oh no. There's two of him and she knows what that means. She stands in the doorway, frozen, but does find the energy to shout.]

Metta, don't-- g-get away from him!

Wirt figures out the trick to this event quickly enough. A long time ago, he was around for an event a lot like this one, and finds his door as soon as he can. That event had at least been good memories, but...well. At least it's not real. Or, at least it isn't real a second time.

It's an event bad enough to make him seek out Greg immediately, but he...wasn't prepared to be bitten again. As soon as he opens the door, he's put into his own shoes from just a couple months ago. It hurts the way he remembers, but...it's still not real.

"Greg? Greg, wait--"

He catches his brother by the shoulder, abruptly ending their getaway.

He says it like he's been there.

But there's a flaw in that explanation. There's a flaw in that diatribe about how it'll be even worse, if he goes. There's a flaw in how he goes on and acts like Tim hasn't thought this through, like this will be some new and terrifying experience for him. He huffs softly, once, a wry rush of sound exhaled sharply through his nose.

"I know."

Maybe it means something.

Maybe it means something that, of everyone who he could have spilled this shit to, Sans is maybe the one person he knows might mind the least.

He lifts his left arm. It's dark, but he can still see them. The faint and faded white marks across the underside of both arms. He draws one long, slow path down from wrist to elbow with the tip of one finger. The skin beneath trembles and pocks with reflexive gooseflesh.

"Ten years old. Sedated, put on watch for seventy-two hours. They stopped giving me mattresses with bedsprings after that."

Another finger, drawn along the lip of his clavicle. Just underneath the throat. Beneath his shirt, there's another white line that runs and runs and runs like a crack in cement.

"Thirteen years old. Sedated, put on watch for seventy-two hours. They took away my window for that, after the fourth time I ran away."

Right arm now. The same place as the first.

"They stopped letting me use pencils after that one. Pencil sharpeners too. And, hey," he says, bitterly, sweeping one hand in a sharp jerk of motion, "those are just the ones you can see."

His arms fall to his sides.

"You know Jay had a copy of my medical files?" He can't even sound angry about that one anymore. There are worse things, right? "He posted them online for everyone to take a look at, just - whenever they felt like it. I scored a fourteen on my risk assessment tool, and he knew it. Caught me overdosing on film, once. That should've been the end for me. It should have."

But it wasn't.

"But I woke up after. Couldn't remember how. Couldn't remember why."

Because - that thing.

It won't let him go.

"So trust me, okay?" His tone cracks slightly, a faint rasp of something pleading and desperate. He's weighed the costs. He knows the costs. He knows the benefits. He knows that this is stupid, and it'll fuck him up in the long term, but right now? Right now he just - he just wants out. Whatever the damn cost. "Trust me when I say - I know."

[Max looks trapped between Frisk and the wall, like she wants to run away from them, but can't. She stares at them, her expression bordering on fear.

Then she...

slowly climbs to her feet.

A sob escapes her. Her cheeks are already wet from crying but now it's worse- she squeezes her eyes shut to try and fight it, but the tears come. She drags in a ragged breath. Quietly, quietly, so Nathan won't hear- Trying to fight down the way she feels.

She stands there, shaking, uncertain of what to do.]

[He huffs out a relieved breath when she says that, because he was expecting worse. He was expecting maybe questions or something, but god, she gets it, doesn't she? She hiding in here, looking like she's been crying. She's quiet, a little awkward, nervous. She's lost her girlfriend. She can rewind time, and the way she's talked about it, nothing good has ever come from her abilities.]

[She gets it. Of course she gets it.]

it feels fucking...impossible. i...i have all this support but...something always happens. something big or even something little. i drop a sock on the floor and it's like...hah, why bother. no point in even picking it up. no point in trying anymore. it...it takes hours sometimes to keep going. it's like...walking around dragging this massive, massive weight. the only reason i haven't given up is because i--promised. i promised, and i really--i want it to work this time. there's so many people now that i don't want to let down.

but it's still so goddamn hard.

[He sinks into a chair, because no point in fighting this now, and he'd rather be sitting.]

sorry. didn't mean to say all that. this event's making...everyone sound really full of themselves. like we all have to dump everything out all at once.

Can we fix this?

They wait for yes. They wait for unceasing determination, for unflinching optimism. They wait for refusal to break apart and shatter. They wait for resistance on a molecular level, on a level on par with the world itself, resisting the edges of their own defeated spirit, the fragments pooling back together to form something strong and impenetrable that refuses to die.

They wait for no. They wait for the calm skipping of dialogue, the lateral sweep of a dust-encrusted Glove or a Ballet Shoe or a Toy Knife's plastic blade. They wait for the snapping of a Burnt Pan closing a door on the final enemy, the emptiness that would forever follow in their gray-puddled wake. They wait for the silence that means nothing for the do not that means that forgiveness is not requisite, or even possible.

They wait.

Their fingertips dig into the scuffed brown skin of one arm, swiftly, and let go in a movement just as immediate.

"I'm scared." It's quiet. It's so, so quiet. "I'm scared all the time. And I'm too afraid to try, because I'm scared I'll just mess it up again."

Can we fix this?

Is it too late?

"I don't know."

[ Even though Chloe's exposure to the sun had been fleeting, and she had healed quickly when Freya gave her blood, the idea of having that done over and over again... Chloe can't even comprehend how painful that must have been, even without the starvation and the vervain. Even without knowing it was your own father doing it to you.

Chloe can't fathom her own father doing it. She can't imagine being capable of doing something like that to Trixie and doesn't want to think about what she would do to Dan if he ever hurt their daughter like that.

But she also knows hate can drive people to do impossible things. Hating something about someone you love only makes it worse. ]

God, Caroline... I'm so sorry. [ The words are meaningless, but Chloe doesn't know what else to say. That kind of betrayal has to cut deep, and only to relive it again? Wonderland is particularly cruel. ] Did he finally figure out that he can't change what you are?

[Max jerks up, surprised by Alphys' voice. She stares at her.

Max hasn't actually talked to Alphys in... months? There are a handful of friendships that Max has yet to tend to, after her alone days. And while being alone right now honestly sounds like the best thing in the world...

Alphys came to the Second Gallery.

Max has practically no feeling left for the place. It's neglected, almost forgotten. Honestly if she closed it down tomorrow, she'd probably feel happy about it. But the thought that someone would come...]

N-no, it's... [okay] bearable.

[She grimaces.]

You can stay. Promise.

The other part can be worked around, I think. It's just a matter of avoiding sensitive issues.

[And she's professional enough to manage that, he's sure.]

[She groans when she comes to, already standing, blinking a bit in confusion. Where... were they? Shit, Alice told her the Mansion wasn't changing, goddamnit. She's being honest my ass.

At least Toriel is here, albeit looking a little panicked, but Shepard just feels confused.]

Toriel... where are we? Are the kids here?

[Her mind's already reeling, trying to think of how many people she needs to protect, what escape route she's going to grab for.]

[He's still not getting it. Is this a metaphor? Jemma knows how much he hates those.]

Are you jealous? Of what? [And it should stay a silent frustration, but:] It would be easier on the both of us if you'd just say what you mean for once in your life.

[ Chloe shifts slightly, surprised that Red stopped but thankful for the distraction anyway. She enjoyed their talk at the music festival, although she wishes they could chat again under less horrible circumstances. ]

Not as bad as others. My daughter was kidnapped and my partner was shot. We were all okay in the end, though. [ It all just kind of spills out, but Chloe finds herself not really caring. ] Yours?

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Page 37 of 201

It may very well be the worst thing that's ever happened to you! | OPEN MINGLE

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metta's room bc obviously

27th!!

cw more in-depth discussion of suicide

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ayyy

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