+ FOURTH WALL EVENT: BEACH PARTY +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: E V E R Y O N E
Where: The Beach!
When: Sept 5th to Sept 10th
Rating: G to PG-13 (please label higher ratings, thank you!)
Summary: Are the other parties a little too crowded and chaotic for you? Come and chill by the water! And don't forget to have a look at the Fourth Wall Master Post for event rules, puzzle clues, and more places to mingle!
The Story:

Beginning on September 5th, much of the shoreline will be taken over by a massive beach party! As with all good Wonderland parties, it will be run day and night, always mysteriously tidy and always with food that replenishes itself.

At various points along the beach, there will be wheel barrels full of candy and treats, and torches for people to claim as their own. There are also volleyball nets, and when darkness falls they will light up like Christmas trees for those who want to play well into the night.

There are many places set up to sit - some with tables, some with pillows and blankets, many with shade, and some even dug out in the sand. There is music playing, but the source is unclear.

However, there's one thing that the curious may find - a message in a bottle. It will regenerate within five minutes if taken, allowing as many curious truth-seekers to investigate as possible.

Comments

FUCK ME

[punful]

[He feels cornered. He's gritting his teeth so hard that the crack in his skull is starting to ache again.]

it doesn't matter.

[It was ages ago, all of it was ages ago, and he doesn't want to think about it, never wants to think about it, the feeling of his soul being punctured, torn open like paper and filled almost to bursting. Because who cares, who cares, it ended up being worth it. Even if he didn't want it or ask for it, it ended up being worth it, because for a horrendously short time there he was actually...]

[Normal.]

[Someone who could protect his little brother, if need be. Finally. It was worth it.]

[And the stuff that happened later doesn't matter either, because he was the lucky one, he was the one who made it to the other side mostly intact, and if there were some unwanted side effects, who the fuck cares? He survived. None of the rest of them did. Honestly, how dare he complain, how dare he say anything at all, when he was the lucky one? What is he, a babybones? Some ungrateful brat bursting into tears because he tripped and bumped his knee, when everyone else is...losing limbs or something? Or however you can extend that metaphor.]

[He's too drunk now for metaphors.]

[He forces himself to relax. Brings himself back down. Loosens his grip on the glass. Lets a slightly drunken smile spread across his skull. He's fine, he's fine. He's Sans.]

listen, don't worry about it. just forget i said anything, yeah? it's a party. can't talk about heavy things at parties, or you just weigh everyone down.

PEN I'M DYING THIS WAS A MISTAKE

[mettatonvevo]

[In forcing himself to relax, Sans allows Mettaton to see his face and the crack is so obvious now that Mettaton can only blame the alcohol for not seeing it earlier. He doesn't comment on it though, not now, not when he's onto... something.

They're both on the precipice of something and he feels the abyss yawning below them both. It opens up wide, dark and foreboding, and he can't find it in himself to resist the gravity of it all, letting it pull him closer and closer to the edge. He isn't as afraid as he should be.

He's sure he and Sans will come out ok, after all.]

It does matter, Sans. But because it matters, it's a secret. I understand.

[A secret. He doesn't want to lose this precious thing, a small gift of misplaced trust wrapped in too much alcohol. How do you show that you are ok with a secret?

Give a secret, get a secret.]

So here's a secret of mine, in exchange.

[There are no mirrors here, other than the Mirrors milling about. But there's no one listening to them, no one who will use it against him this time. It's his to have and his to give and that makes it powerful because he controls where it goes.]

Your mirror wasn't lying when he said that I was jealous of you. I am. Not for what you just told me but for... for...

[His courage fails him and he looks to his glass, now mysteriously full again. Wonderland heard his silent plea and gave him just a little bit more to drink. So he drinks it, finishing his sentence lamely.]

For... something else.

COME WITH ME TO HELL

[punful]

[It's been a long few days. A long event. Stuff keeps happening and Sans keeps making mistakes and saying things. He wants to just sleep. Sleep for an entire day or two.]

[Mettaton is studying him, and Sans can't really read his expression. Or maybe he just doesn't want to. Or maybe it's the booze.]

it's fine.

[It doesn't matter. It's fine. God, he never wanted to get into this shit with Mettaton. He doesn't...he doesn't even get into this with his brother, or Alphys. He doesn't get into this with anyone.]

you don't have to. there's--this isn't some equilibrium that--

[But Mettaton goes ahead anyway. Jealous. He's jealous. Mettaton is jealous of Sans.]

[Sans can't even fathom why and doesn't want to know.]

you don't have to tell me.

*CLAWING AT THE WALLS* HELL IS EMPTY AND WE ARE THE DEVILS DANCING HERE

[mettatonvevo]

[He can't blame the alcohol this time for how unsettled and upturned he feels. He just shared something so intensely personal and there is no one to blame but himself. Sans even says there is no reason for him to say these things, no reason at all, and yet here he is, talking too much.

"it's fine," he says. How often has he heard that shit? From Napstablook, Alphys, Frisk- almost everyone he knows has spouted that line at least once and he is getting sick of it.]

It's amazing how much you and Frisk are alike. Both of you put so much stock in making sure that you never blame the people who hurt you. You bend over backwards to find reasons to use things you had little to no control over to beat yourself into submission.

[He stares Sans down, his gaze unwavering in intensity.]

You fell for life's worst trick the day you started believing you deserved the awful shit it threw at you.

[This is too much. This is too much. He told life to fuck off the day he got his body. It couldn't push him around anymore, that what he wanted he would get and no one could stop him. Maybe that's why it ticks him off when people he cares for speaks to just accept its blows.

Now he's talking about jealously, this awful pit in his SOUL that he can't seem to shake and he feels like he's gone crazy because he can't get rid of it.]

I don't have to, no. I really don't. But part of me wants to, I think. How much of that is the alcohol is the question though.

GOD HELP US

[punful]

[He flinches. That hurts. That fucking hurts. Because he and Frisk are alike. In the same way he and Chara are alike.]

[He grins. Wide and completely false.]

oh, no. you got it all wrong. i blame them. i hold them accountable. i judge them. that's what i do. that's all i do.

[He's not going to get into this. Not with Mettaton.]

all of you do this. i say one little thing and suddenly people think i'm being some kind of martyr. like i must think it's, what, noble or something? like a couple bad things happening to you amount to "suffering." bad things happen to everyone. what have i got to complain about? but nah. i'm bending over backward. i'm falling for life's tricks. poor sans, over here suffering in silence. woe is me, etc.

[He takes a rattling breath and lets the glass slide out of his hand. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.]

you can't understand how this feels.

[He starts to turn away again.]

you don't have to say anything. and i don't think i want to hear it, anyway.

To quote Nietzsche: GOD IS DEAD

[mettatonvevo]

[Judge. He judges them. His eyes narrow a little as his brain tries to connect why that word sticks out like a sore thumb. Then it clicks. Frisk. Oh goodness, Sans is who Frisk was talking about all those months ago. Sans is the goddamn fool who judges them.

It's funny, almost, how much everything is connected.

Though he scoffs at Sans's words.]

I never said you were a martyr. You're not. All I was saying is that life can be very unfair and there's no reason to it. Blaming yourself for things that weren't your fault is just... silly.

["you can't understand how this feels." And Mettaton thought HE was dramatic! That was right out of some intense moment in an action movie and he doesn't think Sans knows how cliche it is.

Sans turns away and Mettaton feels the precipice again, his feet right at its end. He stares it down, thinks about making the jump...]

...Fine then. If you don't want to hear it, you don't want to hear it. I'm not going to force you to listen.

[He steps away from the edge.]

You were right. A party isn't a good place to talk about heavy things like this.

[It's fine. He didn't care about Mettaton in those timelines where he died and he probably doesn't care about this here and now. It's better that way. He'll just lose Alphys to Sans sometime in the future and then he can really devote himself to his fans and job.

He looks away from Sans and takes another sip of his drink. He makes no move to stop the skeleton from walking away this time. If he wants to go, he can go. He certainly has no right to stop people from leaving, does he?]

If you're leaving, do take care of yourself now. I can fix clothes but I can't fix cracks in bodies. I'd hate to see your face covered in them.

and we are dead with him

[punful]

sure it is. it's real silly.

[What he doesn't say is that it's not as silly to blame yourself for things that are your fault. He's been grossly overdramatic in this conversation, and he hates drama. He's a comedy kind of guy.]

[And, heh, wow. If Mettaton only knew.]

[He doesn't trust himself to say anything nice, so he says nothing. He turns and walks away.]

[mettatonvevo]

[Mettaton will look back on this moment in a few days's time and feel regret. Sharp, painful regret for things he said and didn't say. For things he did and didn't do.

One of the biggest regrets will be watching Sans go.]