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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“Fuck you. The hell it isn’t.” He blanches the moment he says it, because t there’s no dismissing the wavering line of stubbornness to his mouth and the set of his shoulders. His reaction only unfurls further in a skittish burst of tensing back and stiff jaw as he reels back, snapping:

“Let the crazy freak use a giant weapon? I’d kill you, and everyone, and me. I don’t trust myself around a regular fucking gun, you lunatic.”

She rolls her eyes a little, less at him and more at herself. "It doesn't have to be a weapon, hell, I can lock the controls on the damn thing. There's plenty of places to go and be alone where no one can get to you without fucking off to kill yourself."

God, she feels like slapping her own face, but instead just puts a hand on her face, dragging it down. "Fuck I hate this event. You think we could write and not have to do this speaking every thought thing?"

"Quit acting like I'm some kind of - like I'm someone you'd trust with anything like that!" he snaps. He knows he's not normal, he knows he's not fucking normal, so what's she think she's doing, rubbing it in like that? Grinding it into his face like he doesn't know, full well?

What's that gonna do?

He scrubs a hand furiously at his face, trying to score away the moisture beading at the corners of his eyes before it forms in earnest. He sounds - so fucking sullen, he knows, and there's not a damn thing he can do to hide it.

"I think if it were that simple, we'd all be using the network."

"Of course I'd trust you with that."

It comes out easily, even if it's more frank than she would ever be, and she sighs a bit at what a yelling match this has become. "I don't-- I told you, I don't think you're gonna hurt me. And it's not like I'm in a position to pretend anything to you right now, even if I get it, anxiety's gonna say what it's gonna say. But seriously."

Shepard folds her arms, looking off to the floor. "Look. Tensions are high, and I'm sorry. I just don't want to see you get hurt. I'm tired of letting people die on my watch."

She'd trust him with that?

She's lying. She - she can't lie, he remembers that she literally can't lie, but if she believes something like that, then - then what's that mean? It means that despite years of tactical and military experience, she's an idiot all the same, because he's not someone that should be trusted with anything volatile as that, not when he's this fucking volatile himself.

"Then stop taking responsibility for things you can't control," he snaps. "I've already managed to hurt you. That thing is just gonna get worse and worse. You know that, right?"

It's honestly hard to say if this is the forced truthfulness or her own dry wit, but Tim says that and she can't help but bark out a laugh. "My entire life is shit I can't control. You don't control war. I don't control my soldiers or my friends. But if I'm helping them, if I want them at my side, you're damn right I'm responsible for their lives."

Shepard doesn't move, folding her arms, legs solid under her shoulders. "Shit happens. I understand and respect those consequences. And frankly, once I get out of here I'm not gonna be alive much longer, so what do I give a shit what happens to me?"

She pauses, like she's suddenly unsure of the words that came out of her mouth, and she tries to backtrack and say she didn't mean it. But she did, so she can't, and all she ends up muttering is a quiet "Ah, hell."

"Because you don't have to be alive for It to make your life hell."

Fuck. Shit. He needs to stop thinking about this, stop thinking about the way Jay started to remember the way he lay there and the way that Alex was still - was still -

(Are you awake?)
(Are they still awake in there?)

"Because It won't let you die."

"Tim, this can't be as fucking helpless as you're making it." It's not exactly what she wanted to say, but Shepard's the kind of person who fights of depression with action, and the uncertainty is what's getting to her here. "I don't care how tough it is being friends with you, or trusting you. I'm a fucking mess. You can't possibly be something worse than I've done to myself."

"So, what? You wanna test that and see for sure? Has it occurred to you that you don't deserve to drag yourself through that kind of shit if you can't help it?" She's blunt, he's blunt. It's a mess. Well, fine. He can do mess. He's already a fucking mess as it is. Just likes being helpless, he guesses! Likes rolling over and just letting it all happen to him! That's what he's best at!

"You think I wanted this?" He's shouting now. He's shouting loud enough for there to be a buzz in his ears. "You think I like being this way?"

Oh, they sure can do mess. They're doing it at top fucking speed, right now.

"Nobody likes being fucked up, Tim! But you have to keep living with it or you die. And if I can't stop that from happening, you're damn sure I'm gonna help you with living with it."

She sighs, trying to bring this down, or at the very least trying to bring her down. "You've seen my bullshit. You've got me now, okay?" God, she wants to stop talking.

"I don't want to keep living with it! I want out. You hear that?"

So fuck it, fine! He wants this. He wants it all over and done with and gone. The strength of having to press on even if weighs at every step of him is too much for him to bear on even a good day, and now? Now especially.

He can't keep doing this.

And he won't.

She grits her teeth, truly wanting to stop speaking here but unable to keep the words off her lips. "Yeah, I know. So do I. But I can't when people rely on me."

Shepard sighs, pushing a hand into her hair. "We don't have to talk. And this is the worst time to be having this discussion, but I don't want you to have to deal with this alone. Besides, you'll just get brought back here. There's no point."

"It's twenty-four hours. That's enough to make sure Jay doesn't ask anything stupid." It's an easy way out, sure, but when has he been above that? He's a coward, a liar, someone who runs instead of charging brazenly into danger the way Jay always could. The way Alex used to.

"Don't try and stop me."

"I think that's what I'm already doing."

Her tone is still tight, in front of the door. Arms crossed, hips steady under her shoulders, squared up. She's prepared.

"We know what dying does here. I can't let her take you."

“Yes, you can. You just don’t want to.” She absolutely could let him by, if she wanted. “We get five shots. This would only be number one.”

She knows that. And if he can circumvent her in some way - there’s only one thing he could think of that might truly debilitate her to the point where she cannot follow. It will hurt. He doesn’t want to. But he could.

"Of course I don't want to. Why the hell would I want you dead?"

That's the problem with determination. No one knows when to stop, even for the damn good of them. It's gotten her killed before, but it sure hasn't seemed to deter her any.

"And that's why I can't. And I won't."

She could overpower him easy. She could overpower him and put this whole thing to rest, and ask him whatever questions she wants, and - and he can't allow for that. He can't allow for that to happen. Any alternative is better.

If she's already doomed, any alternative is preferable.

He breathes in.

If this is anything like the case is with Jay, this might be enough.

"Do remember how It fried your body?" His tone is uncharacteristically steady, utterly calm. "Do you remember how it felt, when It burned you alive?"

There's a shift in her demeanour, a grit of the teeth, a movement in her shoulder. What is he trying to do here? She's been through too much to let one experience get her like that- so he must be trying at something she doesn't know. But what?

She has no choice but to go along.

"And? I've been hurt by a lot. What of it?"

"Do you remember how It burned?" The copper tang of his own blood stings between his teeth, like eggshells crisped into his gums. He bit into the wall of his cheek, or his tongue, or maybe his lungs have started roiling of their own accord - ready to spit hot blood in a reactionary arterial pulse.

He advances. One step. Another.

"Do you remember how It took you apart?" He knows how it feels. Don't you think that he doesn't. "It set you on fire. It pulled you to pieces. And you felt every second of it. Didn't you."

It isn't a question.

He steps forward, and she doesn't move. But it's not a defiance. It's not a last stand, but the feeling of her feet rooted to the ground. She should be rising up to meet him. She should be grabbing him and stopping this. Why won't she move?

"Tim, stop." It's not a question either, Shepard's brows furrowed, hands clenched into fists. If she had any nails to speak for, they'd have punctured her hands by now out of sheer force. She can feel it, building from the electronic connection at the base of her spine, pain trickling into her neck like an oncoming storm.

"Don't do this. You can stop."

"You won't let me leave. You said it yourself." There's too much of a tremble to his tone for him to really sell it as a threat, but maybe Shepard knows a thing or two about scared animals, about cornered things, about dogs gone rabid. Maybe she knows that when they feel backed into a corner, when they feel threatened, they'll bite and tear and gnaw at their own legs to work their way out of the teeth of the trap.

That's what he is, isn't it? Unpredictable. Rabid.

Needs to be put down.

"So you're gonna remember how it felt." He's not shouting, yet, but the words are getting louder. Louder. Louder. Louder. "If you don't, you're gonna stop me."

If he doesn't, he's trapped, same as he ever was.

"And that's why I can't. And I won't."

She does. She remembers back to a girl on the docking bay, holding a stolen gun after being stuck in slavery so long she didn’t even remember her own name. She helped, then. They could share stories of Mindoir, before the pain for them both. But she could pick her words then, much deeper control over her posture and choice. Not… this. Not the constant ugliness of the truth out of them both.

Her legs shake as she finally takes a step back, finally leaning against one of the big hall doors. She’s against one, now, but the other is open, and Shepard finally has to move up to grip her head as some sort of grounding motion.

"Tim, stop, I’m trying to help you—"

Her breathing is noticeably more labored, but she’s still trying, still reaching for him, even as she reels for some better memory to pull her out of the gulch.

"Then just let me go!"

He's pushed it too far. He knows he has. He could apologize, but is he sorry? Is he the least bit sorry?

Who knows how long this'll last? The ripples of this, the aftershocks - how deeply they'll shake someone to their core? He did this. He did this. He did this. He did this. He did this. He did this.

He's still doing it.

Even as he bolts forward in a dead charge, intending to blow right past.

She can't stop him. She wants to, seeing him go by, wants to reach out and grab him and throw him to the ground and scream with some anger she so rarely finds, that how dare he feel this way about himself, about how she can't lose another person, about how it's always her fault. But her voice dies in her throat and her limbs seem to lock, and it's everything she has to learn against the door and just stay upright as he goes.

As soon as he's past her, finally, her knees give out, and she falls hard on her ass, drawing up her knees and balancing her elbows on them to hold her head.

Fuck. Damnit.

She's not as good at this as she used to be.

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

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cw suicide ideation

oh buddy (also same)

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