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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They seem disappointed. Did it wrong again. Even when he can't say anything but the truth, he still does it wrong. God, why are they still putting up with him at all? Why haven't they just told him to leave, that they never want to see him again?

He knows why. They can't switch it off. They can't just reject people. As long as there's any chance of SAVING someone or something, they have to keep trying.

"i wouldn't expect you to. i'd never ask you to. i think we can start by...well, it's ironic, but by--being more honest with each other. that's...at least that's what chara and i have been doing. tell each other what's okay and what isn't. i won't get mad if you tell me something isn't okay. i don't...i don't always know what i've done wrong. i'm not as smart as i think i am or pretend to be. sometimes i--need to be told. and i won't get mad, frisk. i really won't."

“I’m tired.”

Isn’t this...exactly what they tried before? Promises and paths and certainties that all grew to be broken one by one, because they couldn’t just tel him anything. No one asks because they know what they’ll get. A lie. Something wrong. Something no one wants to hear. So why bother?

Why is anyone still bothering?

“Didn’t we try this already?”

Didn’t it fail?

"...yeah. i know. i am, too."

But he's always tired. Always. That has very little to do with Frisk.

"i want to try again. if you want. if--that's okay. i...really dropped the ball. didn't follow through. i was...in a bad place for pretty much all of spring. and most of summer."

A lot happened, and this event might force him to dive into it all.

"i don't want to give up anymore. but you should have a say. it should be your decision. you're the one who was hurt."

"I'm always hurt. And when I'm not, I find a way to - "

A jolt-stop like a heart leaping to their throat, and the snapping jaws of a trap closed tight. In front of him, it's always worse. It's not really a surprise anymore. He knows. They know he knows. But it still works its way up into their chest and squeezes, pairs with the tension of shoulders and the closure of throat. It's just another reminder that they can't really hide.

That nothing they do or say can be hidden.

"...I can't take any of it away. I can't make you stop knowing what you know. And I wish I could."

Doesn't that make them incredibly selfish? Isn't that just spitting in the face of the consequences they're supposed to know exist?

How are they supposed to allow for that?

He winces. Just slightly. Because yeah, he knows. He's not sure if that's worse or not. If he knows, he can try and help them, stop them, like back in winter. If he doesn't know, then--well, they'd be happier. And he'd probably stop getting worried every time he doesn't hear anything from Frisk for awhile.

"i don't think less of you because of what i know. i don't hate you. i'm not mad. and if...forgetting everything would make you happy, then..."

He can't say it, though. It's not true. He puts too much value in his memory. It's all he has.

"...it should be a different sans here. a new sans. but, god, that's awful, isn't it? i've ruined everything for the next guy. he'd show up and wonder why his friend from the ruins hates him, and why his brother is more worried about him than ever, and why alphys and mettaton look at him like that. he'd have to start all over with chara. he wouldn't know a damn thing about them, or about asriel. or about you. he'd look at you and think...the human. the anomaly. the one who saved everyone, or the one who didn't. he wouldn't know anything about you. and maybe he'd do things better, but..."

He pauses and presses a hand to his forehead. He shakes his head. Everything feels swimmy, unreal.

"no, that's too cruel. i won't wish that on you or him or anyone. it's too much like a reset. i don't want to just...do that anymore. i don't want to--be him. this might be the closest we ever come to being free from all of it, and i won't just--throw it away. i'd rather...i'd rather there be a future. because if there's a future, then that means it's...it's not too late. isn't...isn't that better? isn't it better if we're allowed to move forward? i..."

He covers his mouth, but that won't keep it in.

"i don't ever want to go back."

"I do."

There's no way to keep that in, either. It works out behind lips pressed shut and it darkens their brow and it runs up their spine in a hot-tin shiver. Is that not horrible?

"Everything here got complicated. I'm supposed to make it simple. I could. I want to. I want to take back everything I've done."

They want to - stop having consequences, ha ha. What kind of terrible person thinks that? What kind of person, after lifetimes of having that lesson impressed upon them, decides that it's not worth it to keep adhering to it? Isn't that the whole point, here? Aren't they supposed to be subject to the same consequences?

How is anyone supposed to forgive that?

It's surprising. But then he thinks about it and...it's not so surprising. Especially when they explain it. They're supposed to make it simple. And nothing is simple here, nothing has been simple for years now. They want to fix it. They want simplicity.

They don't want the fallout. The consequences. Who ever really does?

He gives a quiet sigh, digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

"you're a kid, frisk. you're just a kid. kids are supposed to make mistakes and learn from them. that doesn't stop when you grow up, either. you just...know more. it gets a little easier. you didn't have a chance to grow up back underground. here...you do. as much as wonderland allows, at least. and growing up is...the hardest damn thing in the world. it hurts. and you got so used to being able to fix everything. we kept relying on you to fix everything. that's not your fault, kid. getting used to how things are...that's not your fault."

He shakes his head again.

"not wanting to face consequences doesn't make you a bad person. who ever really wants to face that stuff? the thing is, you...keep trying. you've kept trying. even when you don't want to. that's the important thing, kiddo. and you've got a lot of people to help you."

Even if they do end up rejecting Sans, they'll still have the others. They won't be alone.

"So when are you going to change your mind again?"

It's...tired. It's so tired. They'd love to be able to say they're listening to every word, that there's a reason to listen at all, but...is there? Is there anything here but platitudes he's issued before, only to renege on them when it's most convenient?

"Face consequences. But now you don't have to." Their eyes have hooded, closed at half-mast. They aren't looking at him anymore. "Make a promise. But only when I say. Tell me when things are wrong. But don't, because then I get mad. I don't want you to change. But please stop getting into trouble. Don't disappear. But it's okay if I do."

How are they supposed to tell?

How are they supposed to tell what his word means, at any given time, when it's always being shifted around?

"I'm tired of guessing what adults really mean. They always lie. Like I'm too stupid to figure it out."

He's quiet.

Sans does not have integrity. He changes his mind. Changes his opinions. Moves the goalposts. Yanks the rug, keeps people off-balance.

This is why he's toxic. This is why he'll never know if he's doing the right thing or not, because the right thing seems to change daily.

"that's not what i said."

He says it quietly, without much emotion at all. Semantics. It doesn't even matter.

"you don't have a choice but to face consequences. none of us do. i just think it's normal to not want to. and do you think i'm just...not gonna care when you tell me you want to erase yourself? when you try?"

Was he just supposed to sit there and let it happen, like he would have underground? Like he probably did, underground?

"so don't guess. ask me. i can't lie right now. and--i'll do everything in my power to tell you the truth from now on. you just gotta ask. and i gotta ask, too. cause otherwise, we just--keep talking past each other. we keep hearing what we wanna hear. we keep assuming things. i've been terrible about that. i'm trying to do better."

"It's more important for you to say that isn't what you said. Does it matter? It's what I heard."

Because he's still not hearing them. All these words, all these things he keeps saying, and he still isn't hearing a thing they say.

They're not surprised. They're still not. How could they be? They know how things are, now, with him. He lets them down. He lets them down, has let them down, and will continue to let them down.

"You're still not listening, either. Maybe you're telling the truth now. I won't know if you are when it's over. You'll change your mind again. It's what you do."

Or maybe he'll find a loophole there, too. Something else he said that he didn't say. Just set them up to walk away believing it.

He's good at that, isn't he?

Guilt.

It's his superpower.

"...you're right. sorry."

Just shut up, Sans. It doesn't matter. The semantics, the details. Just stop. Just stop already.

And they're right about this as well. He can make a promise while he can't help but tell the truth, but what good is it? They all know what he's like with promises. They all know how often he changes his mind.

"i can't make you believe me or trust me. i wouldn't even if i could."

It's relieving, to hear himself admit it, that the words make it past his teeth. That as bad as he is, at least he's not that bad.

"i'm...not gonna give up on you."

But if they give up on him...

He doesn't get a say in that. If that's how it is...then that's how it is. If they want him to go, he'll go. And he'll keep believing in them from a distance.

For all the good it does anyone.

"what...what can i do?".

He already knows the answer.

They've answered this before.

He wouldn't, even if he could.

Why is he still bothering? They're not...are they not being clear? Maybe it's just hard to be clear when they don't even know what they're supposed to be, right now. What they're supposed to feel. He's just someone else they're hurting, just for being here. Trying to form a line and a barrier and stand up for themself, but when they do, it's...the wrong thing.

"You said I should...that I didn't have to forgive you. You said that I should try to stop letting things just happen to me."

Isn't that what they're doing?

Isn't that what he wanted?

"I don't know. How am I supposed to know how to do anything?"

"you don't have to forgive me. you're allowed to tell me you can't. you're allowed to tell me to just get lost. you're allowed to tell me--anything. and whatever you say, i won't get mad. i just--i just don't know what you want from me. and i'm too scared to guess. i'm too scared of making it worse for you."

He scrubs at his face with both hands.

"all i want--all i want anymore is for you to be happy and safe. whatever that means. i want you to have a chance to--recover, grow up. i just don't know what--what my role is in that. if there is one at all. i don't know what to do, kid, so i'm asking. please. i'm not trying to guilt you, i'm not trying to manipulate you into some, some kind of perfect answer. i won't hate you. i can't. you're family."

It just slips out, unadorned, and god, that makes things so, so much worse.

"i just want to help, if i can. i just want to know if there's--hope."

"So why are you looking for it here?"

Why me?

Are they just - some hope he has, some abstracted yearning for a redemption that might or might not exist? They don't understand, can't understand. Plainly he wants this from them, but why does he want it from them? What have they done in any of the months they've spent here, any of the past year, to merit that?

What have they ever done but push and pull and prod and say things like this?

"Why are we family? Why...is it me? Is there anything about me that ever...?"

Could it have been anyone?

Could it have been any Frisk?

There are hundreds of them. There could be thousands. What else are they supposed to do? What is it about them, about this Frisk, that is - even remotely special, to him? What is it about them that's so appealing that he thinks they can be his redemption?

Why do they have to be his redemption?

"It never mattered before."

Isn't it too late for it to start mattering now?

"that's not what i...it's not about me. it's about you. your happiness."

He's just...it's becoming clear, even if they don't outright say it. He's standing in the way of their happiness. Like he stands in the way of everything. How can they be happy, when he knows what he knows? When he makes them feel the way he makes them feel?

"it's mattered since you came here."

Why would they believe that they matter to him at all?

"it was cold when you arrived. i let you borrow my jacket. we had the first honest discussion we've ever had. then chara showed up, and you weren't sure what to make of them, and i--misjudged them right away. but you said you'd look after them, and i told you i trusted you. and you did. you did look after 'em."

Two years. It's almost two years for both kids now. So much has happened.

"you helped me get to safety during that first zombie event. i caught you when ford switched off the gravity, and you told me that i was a good person. i think you even believed it. when you died in the tunnels, i wasn't sure you'd ever want to speak to me again. i thought distancing myself was the right thing to do. it wasn't. but you forgave me, somehow."

Did they mean it? Even then, did they mean it? He didn't deserve it, certainly.

"you said you wanted a hoodie like mine. you said we were family. and i was--scared. i wasn't ready. caring about someone that much was so...frightening. didn't realize until too late that i already cared. you talked to me, let me talk about...stuff i'd never spoken about with anyone. when i died, you...sat with me and we dropped mints into soda. you were patient. in neverland, when you didn't know me at all, you still wanted to protect me. to help. you listened. you've been there for me. i've tried to be there for you, and i've fallen--short. i've let you down."

He goes quiet for a bit. He's not sure what he's saying. There's a point here somewhere, he just...

He's talked so much. Why? Why is he doing this?

Isn't there some truth here he's simply not accepting?

"you said your favorite color was red. you said your favorite flavor was butterscotch cinnamon. you like licorice too, though. you prefer long sleeves. comfortable things. handmade stuff."

His eyelights dim, and he sags a little.

"you're imperfect. you make mistakes. you underestimate yourself. you overestimate yourself. if someone has to save you or help you, you think it's because you failed. but it's not."

This isn't helping.

"you're a kid."

He's going to really lose them this time.

"you deserve better than me. than all of us. you deserve the world. you deserve people who have never, ever hurt you."

It's over, isn't it?

So why is he still talking?

"family is...complicated. you're complicated. this...is complicated. and you might never forgive me. but you're family. and...no matter what else happens, i'll always think of you as family. as someone i--love. until wonderland sends me home."

It's over.

They're supposed to be doing...better. And maybe, in some ways, they are.

They're learning.

They're learning that they, maybe -

Maybe they didn't need to hurt.

They're learning that maybe they didn't need to be told that they were loved in the same breath that accompanied a hurled ball of fire that scorched their skin and singed their hair. They're learning that, that maybe they didn't need to be beaten with a long string of bones and tossed, unconscious, into a shed. Maybe they didn't need to be stalked and hounded by a fearsome warrior who said their SOUL was the only thing worth their existence, because everything else about them was a crime. Because dying was the best possible outcome for everyone, for all of monsterkind. Maybe they didn't need to be used for someone else's happiness, so that someone else could feel better. Maybe they didn't need to be the person everyone wants them to be, the angel with skinned knees and an unflinching smile and an earnest, patient smile, willing always to forgive, despite everything.

Maybe they didn't need to be taken to a place full of strangers and threatened and questioned when they'd done nothing, when they'd done nothing but try their best for one final, doomed time.

Maybe they didn't need to be punished for their every transgression with a look, with a judgment, with a smug pronouncement as to the depravity of their crimes.

Maybe, they -

"You're right."

The words seem to startle even them. Lifting their chin, flaring their eyelids.

"You're...right."

Because everyone else...at least they tried. Didn't they? They tried. They didn't always treat them the way they think they wanted to be treated, the way that maybe they deserved, but they tried. Undyne gave them tea and flashed a broad, toothy grin, and Mettaton told them fondly to knock' em dead, darling, and Alphys apologized for everything she'd done, and Asgore fought so hard not to be backed into the corner he himself created.

They all hurt them. They all hurt them, but they all...tried.

They all tried.

He's right.

"You're right," says Frisk again, louder. The thinness of their breath in their chest, the fluttering of their trapped-bird heart beating its way against their ribs, all of it lends the impression of someone whose toes are scraping the edge of a long, long drop. A terrible, shearing fall.

It's not the falling that's hard.

It's hitting the ground that aches at them so.

"I didn't deserve it."

It's giddy, saying it aloud.

"I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve to be...I didn't...I didn't deserve what monsters did to me. Maybe after I'd done something wrong, but...but the first time? It wasn't ever 'cause of what I'd done. It was 'cause of what I was."

And he's right.

"I didn't deserve that."

"And I don't want to live - for the rest of my life feeling like I'm always paying for that. I don't want to hurt all the time. I'm tired of saying it's okay that I do."

Because all of the monsters, they all tried. They all tried, even before they knew there was any point to trying. The ACT of trying alone was enough to breach any possibility that it might not matter, down the road.

Except for him.

Except for him.

"I can't call you family. I don't know if I ever can. I can't trust you, because I don't know if I ever did. I don't know what to do, but..."

But if they want to be anything other than what they've always been, it has to start here. It has to start here.

It has to start with willing to say no. They've said a lot of words, they know. They know they have. A lot of words, and not one of them's a lie. Not even what comes next, what comes last, what punctuates everything else. Because despite everything...

They don't like having to hurt anyone.

"I'm sorry."

He's quiet.

He watches them evenly through dim eyelights as they talk. As realization comes over them. As the truth comes out.

Maybe it's sad, the swell of pride in his soul when they say they didn't deserve it. They've never been able to say it before. Never thought enough of themselves to say it. They've got it, now. They've realized. It means they're getting a little better.

It means so much.

It dampens the sting of what they say next.

He knew it was coming. Knew it was over. But hypocrite that he is, he never did know when to QUIT. Had to hear them say it first. Had to hear them say it, so that he wasn't still just guessing, still just assuming, still just letting his selfish self-hate run away with him.

It's over.

And even if you don't know when to QUIT, it happens eventually.

"i'm proud of you, frisk."

They don't have a choice but to tell the truth, but they did choose it.

"it's okay, kid. really. can't lie, anyway. this...this is what i meant, about you being...happy. being you. choosing."

It still just...

Hurts.

He's quiet again for awhile.

"what," he says very softly, "do you want to do now?"

They've let him down. They know. Maybe they can't really be upset over that, right now. Maybe they won't ever.

"I don't hate you." That, they know, is true. They don't - can't. Maybe they don't hate anyone, with the exception of themself. Maybe they just don't have it in them anymore. "But I can't keep running to you. I can't keep expecting you to make everything better and understand and be someone who can take care of me. You're not that person."

He just...isn't.

He isn't the type of person who saw a conveniently-shaped lamp and thought that maybe, somewhere down the line, he'd need it for a child shaped precisely like them, holding out hope that someone like them would slip-tumble into his life and fill all the gaps and grooves in a life that was empty but for Papyrus. He isn't the type of person who keeps his promises. He isn't the type of person they can look at and hope to remember- anything but the hot-penny cling of blood to the roof of their mouth, the cold pits of dualed eyesockets boring into them, staring them down.

It wasn't enough. They weren't enough.

They weren't someone who could break the loop of his apathy until he realized that he'd be here for a long while yet, and so would they. That his anomalies were here to stay. Nothing about this was unconditional. And that isn't...they know that's not just it.

But it's part of it. And it's a part they were never willing to admit until they were forced to. At long last.

Their expectations...their loneliness...their fear...

For him?

They will put them aside.

"I know you're trying. But...what you are now? I still can't forget what you've been."

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

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