entrancelogs | black then white are all i see in my infancy [closed + open]

Entry tags:

black then white are all i see in my infancy [closed + open]

Who: Frisk and a few closed prompts + a few open ones!
Where: Alphys's lab, by the vendors, maybe more?
When: 11/01 - 11/08-ish (may be subject to change)
Rating: PG-13 for children in peril, suicide ideation, depressive mindset, and bad decisions
Summary: Shit happened. Someone give this cast an intervention.
The Story:

[A hot oil-slick of numbers running through their mind in a burning cacophony does not lend itself to anything but pain, bright and blazing. It cuts into their teeth and their tongue and the inside of their cheeks - or maybe that is simply them biting deep into the flesh in their mouth to taste the warm tang of it to remind themself that they are not simply numbers they are not simply numbers they are not simply numbers they are real.

It crests in a burgeoning wave. There is no tide there is no pattern there is no regularity there is no respite it simply is and it tears through them, every jerk and wrench of their body shuddering in its place like hot marks shearing them open.

They can taste blood.

Is it yours?

Or mine?

It does not matter.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

yeah. just some math to triple-check, then we'll be good to go.

[They're all running on barely any sleep and way too much coffee at this point too, so maybe quadruple-checking wouldn't be a bad idea either.]

[Something twists in his soul at Frisk's words. God, they're...not even holding back anymore. Not even trying. They've completely abandoned any facade of being even remotely okay. They just want it to...end.]

[God does he get it.]

because that won't fix anything. because we don't want that.

[Alphys would spend the rest of the night going over the same equations if Frisk wasn't already there with them, just to be sure, just to be safe. But there's nothing safe about what any of them are doing, is there? Not when Frisk is ready to let themselves fall apart.

She wants to help. She wants to do something. She remembers, faintly, dragging Sans out of the Deep Roads, literally carrying him at one point because she couldn't leave him behind. She remembers Undyne taking her hand the first day they met and bringing her, step by step, away from the abyss. She remembers sitting with Papyrus in a desolate room, hand in hand, quiet. Waiting. Keeping time.

She might not be able to save herself. But she can save something else. Piece by piece, step by step, into the light.]

Because we w-want to help. You and Chara. We d-don't want you to be hurting anymore.

[Can you help something that can't be helped? This could tear them apart. Decouple them from the way space is, the way time is, like claws unhitching from skin, and just letting them...drift free.

Their eyes spritz from brown to black to a cloudy gray [ERROR] and then settle on a dark crimson, a few shades darker than Chara's. Their vision fizzes oddly with each shift, as if veiled in static.

They - their sprite - they -

They settle upon something that isn't them, but perhaps is close enough, as they advance towards the thing. Afraid to touch it, in case they break it.]

S-so I just...

[Do they sit? Lie down? Wait until [CORRUPTED] resolves and they can think about something else?

00012: fhuehfuehfuehfuheufhe/%...]

[He's running a few last minute calculations, checking things for the fifth time, maybe the millionth time. All feels so goddamn familiar, except now there's a life on the line. Now there's a living human attached to the soul, and they can't make a single mistake. They cannot make a mistake.]

[They can't fail, they just can't.]

just sit for now.

[Do they sit or lie down? This thing was never designed for extracting anything from a living soul, how do they even know--no, okay. No second-guessing at this point. Trust the machine. Trust Alphys. Trust Frisk. Trust the math.]

[He sighs, forcing himself not to sound nervous.]

ready to go on my end. if i look over all these equations again i'm gonna go blind.

[She feels like she's going to dissipate any moment from sheer anxiety. That her shaky hands and uncertain breaths will vibrate her out from the inside and they'll be nothing left of her so quickly, just like she was never there. She imagines they'll want something to hold onto, which is mostly why the chair is there. They don't have to support their own weight, either. Don't have to stand. Just... sit there, and not think about it, and maybe it'll be over soon. Yeah.]

I... I t-think I am too. I don't think any of these are, uh, going to change, and... yeah. You can sit, uhm, Frisk. Do you want anything else to, uh... hold onto, or s-something?

[She can't do this. She has to do this.

At least she sounds nervous all the time, so it's probably not worse than usual.]

[It's terrifying to look at. Like they'd said, like they remember saying when they weren't really them anymore. They'd said it aloud, hadn't they? Rocked everyone to the pits of their SOULs. spr_dt_machine_0.png.

An image file.

What stands, sprawls before them now, is in all certainty no image file. Maybe there should be something reassuring in its solidity, but there isn't. Mostly it just leers at them like something comprised of thorny limbs and hideous, misshapen material twisted into itself, something both organic and mechanical and intensely wrong to look at.

Not so weird to think about now, is it? Almost scarier now that they know what it's really made of.

spr_f_handgun_neo_46.png
spr_fa_stemunder_20.png
spr_floweyarm_0.png
spr_floweyx_tv_0.png
s̲̻͑p̝̺͔r͓̜͝_̡͈͎f̔́᷀l̆͗᷄oͯ̉̍w̹̥ͣe͊͢͠y͏᷊̅x̝̆͋_͖̺̩f̸̗͂ĺ̛͕a̘͙ͦm᷊᷅ͬe̔̾͗_̵͇ͤm̹᷊̑oͥͥ̒v̷̡̾e̫ͬ͏_̶ͣ͌2́̽̾1᷊ͥ᷆.ͯ͝͠p͆̀͏n̗ͤ᷅g̈ͥ͢

...

Ha ha.

Little bit scary.

spr_maincharal_0.png obeys the depression of a [z] button and the click of arrow keys, and then they turn around and...sit. On the place where they're supposed to sit. Wonder if they have to be hooked up to the tubes and twisting pipes and things.

It looks...it's all...

A little bit scary, huh?

But they already had that thought, didn't they?]

N-no.

[Shake their head.]

Can't let it...spread.

alright.

[He takes a needless breath. Gotta calm down. This is worse for Alphys, and a thousand times worse for Frisk. Frisk's the one who's got to stand under that thing. Whatever he's feeling doesn't even remotely compare to any of that.]

[He presses a few buttons at a monitor. Pretends his hands aren't shaking above the keys.]

then. let's get this over with.

[He should say something, probably. Say one of the things he wants to say to Frisk, in case--in case. The sort of thing you'd say to someone who might not make it out alive. He looks up across the room at them. They look so scared.]

hey, frisk? i, uh...

[He's always been a coward, though.]

[He shakes his head.]

tell ya when it's over.

[He looks at Alphys.]

ready?

[She can't focus on Frisk's words, Sans' affirmations, nothing but her work. If she takes even another second of hesitation, she'll lose her nerve. So she nods at Sans, positions herself in front of the controls, slides her goggles down over her eyes.]

Ready. Let's, uhm, l-let's go.

[Even saying that almost shakes her. She doesn't look at Frisk. She knows she couldn't handle it. So she checks, for the millionth time, that everything is correctly in position, and turns it on.

As the machine springs to life, it brings with it the mechanical whirr of parts and fans and the magical pulse of a living being, the eyes lighting up as the machine begins it's sequencing. It seems to look down upon Frisk as the front opens, focusing in on their jumping, stuttering SOUL with a click as a probing piece comes out, coming to a stop about a foot from Frisk's chest.

With a quick look to Sans, Alphys activates the second set of sequencing, and a pulse of magic connects Frisk's SOUL to the machine. Visibly, there's not much to it- a bit of the color, Frisk's brilliant red, seems to be connecting the two, and Alphys focuses on the holding component near the back of the machine, watching it fill as per their calculations, watching the sides of the maw glowing with DT as it cycles through the machine. Should only be a few minutes. Trusts Sans to tell her if something's going wrong with Frisk, if there's a problem, if she needs to stop. It's everything she has not to cancel it prematurely.

But soon enough, it's over; when the machine hits it's sequencing, the amount of time they pre-programmed, it stops, severes the connection, and closes up to finish processing. She's not sure she can move. She doesn't know what to feel.]

... Frisk? Can... c-can you hear me?

[Sans seems like he's about to say something else. But then he cuts himself off, trails away into nothingness, and says something innocuous. He's scared, they think. It's hard to tell, but they've been here so long. Gotten ample opportunity to see the nuances behind that smile.

They're scared too. They're shivering there as they wait for it all to begin.

* Here we go.

The machinery unspools and clicks into place with a series of menacing whirs, and they can feel the jerking of their unstable body, mind, and SOUL intensify with each moment, their heart hammering wildly in their chest. Then a thread of something hooks into their SOUL, an abrupt and intense sensation that's as chilling in its intimacy as it is in its invasiveness.

Their back arches.

Their SOUL -

Everything -

detonates.

]

[It hurts.

It

hurts.

That's not so surprising.]

[They can do hurt. They can do hurt. Hurt is all right. They're used to hurt. This is something - something else, something entirely else, and it tears at their SOUL in a blazing stripe of agony, of numbers and pixels and sprites all scattering into manifold directions and coalescing and unraveling and reraveling and binding it all together in something blazing and bright and determined. They can feel it slipping out between their fingers, numbers filtering through a sieve. They want it out, they want it out out out but then it keeps spilling away like grains of sand through their fingertips and they want it back they want it back because if they're not determined then who are they, who are they? They're not Frisk. Frisk is determined. Frisk is determined, and they can feel that, that resolve, that SOUL-deep, clawing need to always Continue trickling away. They want to latch claws into it and never let go. It trails away. It's drained away like nothing, 11364: Have some& determination.../%% only that's not enough, it's not fucking enough for you, is it? Hoarding everything to your heart like the greedy little thing you are, taking and taking everyone's love and food and shelter and money and it'd be better for everyone if you just died, wouldn't it, it'd be so much easier. And it is easy. It is easy. They're screaming, they think, and the sound cuts them to the bone (ha ha ha) and maybe it cuts some other things to the bone too, because they know that they're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all. They're losing it all.]

[Their last thought flickers vaguely, desperately, in their mind like a guttering flame, like a candle about to be snuffed out. It feels like the pulse of a SAVE button, a Last Dream, a Bad Memory, a Hope that stills and boils beneath their skin as it converts to something tangible, the DETERMINATION for the dream to come true.

10777: I can feel it.../
10778: Every time you die^1,&your grip on this&world slips away./
10779: Every time you die^1,&your friends forget&you a little more./
10780: Your life will end&here^1, in a world&where no one&remembers you.../%%
10781: Still^1, you're&hanging on...?/
10782: That's fine./
10783: In a few moments^1,&you'll forget&everything^1, too./

And they can't hold onto it.

It fades.

It bursts like a soap bubble, the surface tension erupting, scattering into a collection of bright and brilliant phosphenes.]

[And then they're...here.

It takes a moment for Frisk to feel their body again. Feel their fingers. Flex their hands. So tired of being a...person. Blink once. Blink twice. Wonder at the strangeness of having eyes and skin.

C-can you hear me?

They turn their head, slowly. They've been asked a question. They should - will answer.

It's what they've been asked to do.]

Yes.

[He does his part. Pushes whatever buttons he needs to. Work to be done. Numbers, subjects, cold math, detached science. Try not to think about it.]

[The thing whirs to life and he glances up and sees Frisk shaking. And then the light show begins.]

[And Frisk screams.]

[And he doesn't move, because he has to stay at his station, has to monitor what's happening, watch the screens for any sign of mechanical failure, any sign that the subject is in danger of expiring, and Frisk is screaming and that's never happened before, the souls never screamed because of course they didn't, they were just souls. Or maybe they were screaming.]

[Frisk had said they were conscious the whole time.]

[So they must have felt it, right? Must have felt this, and all the experiments, and hey, it turns out that it hurts.]

[There had been a little girl in the snow, and the doctor had said that the dogs would bury her somewhere, offhandedly, like she was just a used up chew toy. Light blue for patience. Cyan, the doctor corrected, because he cared about the words, the semantics, get it right, Sans.]

[Get it right, Sans.]

[And then it had been a sort of role reversal, because there's a lot more that human souls are good for than just Determination, because there's all sorts of things you can do with them, and it had been the other way around that time, it had been him sitting in a chair, him with his soul exposed and torn open, him screaming while the doctor stood rigid and kept the machine going and tried to stay professional and tried to stay detached because he had to, because failure means this person you care about, this person who is important to you, will die and it will have been your fault.]

[He thinks he finally gets it.]

[And then it's over. Frisk doesn't move. Then they move, shifting as if they're waking up, and the machine is powering down, and Alphys is saying something, and it's over, and that means Sans can stop being a scientist and start being a friend again.]

[He doesn't bother walking. He just teleports straight to Frisk's side.]

frisk.

[He--he wants to just gather them up into a hug, but they might still be hurting, and they're not always okay with touch anyway, so he just takes their hand instead, very carefully, careful not to bend their fingers too much, just--make sure they're still there, whole, solid, alive.]

you made it.

[He can't actually remember the last time he felt...relieved. About anything.]

[They're even speaking. They're okay. They're alive. It worked. They did it. He...did something right. For once.]

it's okay. it's over. how are--how are you feeling?

[She doesn't realize she's stopped breathing until Frisk speaks, and everything comes crashing down. Because Frisk had been screaming, the souls didn't have a reaction, but what if they did, if they were in jars and conscious and could see her the entire time, waiting. What did they think of her? Did they know what was going on? Did they remember her, or themselves, or--

She all but collapses on the weight of everything as it finds her. The lack of sleep this week, the stress since the beginning of the month, every fear she's had looking down on this maw of a machine, and she's on the floor, she's crying, there's barely anything holding her together. She wants to sleep for a thousand years.

It takes her a minute, of shaking and mess, to pull herself from the floor and end up at Frisk's side with Sans. God, she must look like a mess.]

Are you f-feeling alright? Frisk, oh my god, we, we w-were so worried, I thought, it might-- did it hurt? I'm sorry if it, i-if it did, I mean it must have, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, we just, we had to fix it, and everything, and, and, a-are you okay?

[Another slow blink. Everyone seems so anxious, so worried, their voices and shapes disorganized blurs that eventually resolve into two more easily recognizable images: Alphys, and then...Sans. The rapidity of their speech, the way Alphys's words tumble over each other, the way Sans speaks in clipped little fragments - logically, they can deduce that they must have made both of the mvery worried.

They can't really...feel bad about it. They don't feel much of anything at all.

They sound worried, and they're asking Frisk questions. Frisk answers, because that's what they've been told to do, and they're nothing is not obedient. Follow the keystrokes and the commands.]

I'm okay. [And they feel okay too, they suppose. They feel hollow, they guess, but that's okay. They can't miss what they don't have the capacity to miss. Their expression might just be a little flatter than usual, a little more closed, a little emptier.]

I'm fine.

[They're moving, they're talking, they're reacting. They seem a little lethargic, but that's to be expected. The point is, they're alive. And they're no longer glitching and flickering and speaking in impossible sounds. Sans squeezes their hand very gently.]

[Alphys arrives and she's crying and trembling and rambling. Sans feels ready to do all three as well. Mostly he just feels tired.]

it sounded like it hurt. are you sure you're okay? you were--screaming. we didn't know if...we had no way of knowing or testing what it would be like.

[He studies Frisk's face, still searching for any sign that they're at all still in pain or still on the verge of glitching away across Wonderland. They stay solid. They're not really...emoting very much. Their tone is flat.]

[He expected this too. He just isn't sure yet how bad it's gonna be.]

[It's alright. There's going to be a recovery period, and that's fine. They can weather this. He lets himself smile a little for real.]

but it worked. you should be stable now. might feel weird for awhile, but you'll be okay. i'm, uh. i'm glad it worked, kiddo. i'm...

[He told them he'd say it, didn't he? Once it was over. Once they were alright. Thinking it and admitting it to himself is hard enough, but saying it out loud still seems...strange. Like maybe it's not the right time, or maybe it's too late, but...]

[He almost just lost them. Again. He should just stop being a coward and say it before anything else goes wrong.]

...i'm glad. cause you're...you're family, yanno? didn't want to lose you again.

[It's everything Alphys has to hold herself together as Sans and Frisk speak- they're alive, it's ok, and... they are kinda family, huh? They look out for each other. They keep an eye out when someone's hurt. They do everything they can to save somebody.

But they're here, and speaking, and that's going to have to be good enough.]

Sans is, uhm, right, it's g-going to feel weird for a little bit, but uhm, your determination will come back naturally over time. And uh, we'll b-be around to help you, uhm, whenever you need it, and, uhm, it's...

[God, she's overwhelmed.]

I'm just s-so happy you're okay. We're all gonna b-be. I promise. Okay?

[The words whisper on by. You're family, you know? They're family. That's...all right, they think. That's fine. It must be. If he wants, right? Another pressure to be piled on their shoulders, ha ha, another obligation. The words shouldn't feel as empty as they do.

But they do. Frisk blinks at Sans, slowly. Then at Alphys. Answers them both in the same word, the same blank nod.]

Okay.

[Okay.

Everyone will be happy if they comply. So they do.]

[...Ah.]

[If that didn't get any sort of reaction, nothing will.]

[Okay then. Okay. He said it too late. Should have said it before they switched the damn thing on.]

[Whatever. It's fine. They'll get their Determination back eventually, and then they can talk about it. He can give them all the time they need. In the meantime, he can maybe get Papyrus's help in mending bridges between Frisk and Chara. If anyone will know how to do it right, it'll be his brother.]

[He smiles tiredly at Frisk and nods. It's fine. It'll be okay.]

alright, kid.

[He steps back and lets go so he can let them stand up.]

at least it's over.

[It's over.]

[This is hard. Everything about this is hard, but somehow, it's less complicated than what they just went through, so all she can feel is relief. She reaches out, squeezes Sans' shoulder for support, and smiles at Frisk.]

Yeah. Uhm, the c-complicated part is past us. So, uhm, Frisk, if you're feeling, uhm, o-okay, do you wanna go to your room, and uhm, I'll f-follow up with you in a few minutes?

[Stand. Right yourself. Feet across the floor echo, step for step. People are smiling. That's good. People are telling them to go to their room - asking them if they would like to, true, but it's less of a suggestion, less of a question and more of an order.

That's good, though. They can take orders. Can follow the press of a button.

They nod, silently. Better to be silent.

And they take their leave obediently.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

black then white are all i see in my infancy [closed + open]

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1/???

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done.

fuck

L O R D

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