CORE

by Trefoil_9

Summary:

These days the King is more interested in weird metaphysical biology than physics, which means that Dr. Gaster's project to build a decent generator is not only woefully underfunded, but he has to deal with cruddy technology short-circuiting and exploding constantly. He'll have to pick a team, and indicatively, one of the applicants only has one HP. And he blows up Gaster's office during their "interview."

May or may not contain: tea-drinking, depression, cats, anxiety, swearing, annoying dogs, death and near-death, gravity related injuries, conflicted Asgore, a non-Gaster Royal Scientist, crumbs of Toaster, humans, platonic Sanster, honorary science daughter Alphys, PICK UP YOUR SOCK SANS, unfriendly eldritch critters that don't like the monsters living in their caves, snarky fire elementals, monster souls and their curious properties, odd skeleton behaviors, magic malfunctions, and spatio-temporal displacement.

Gaster as a friendly derp boss monster physicist who for once isn't interested in breaking the Barrier.

Sans as an angst-ridden smol fragile marshmallow with malfunctioning magic.

Alphys as the voice of reason that Gaster does not internally have.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALSO HERE!

Chapter 1: Things Exploding [Arc I]

Summary:

Arc I: Your New Best Friend

Things Exploding

 

In which Dr. Gaster has no people skills and Sans has no chill.

The door was open and the room seemed empty. Had he dismissed the last applicant? Where was the next one?

He’d done it again, hadn’t he.

Gaster had a tendency to fall into deep thought and lose track of his surroundings. That would be fine as long as he only did it when sitting in his armchair, but he didn’t. When uncomfortable, or simply distracted, he would retreat into his mind, losing the thread of a conversation or leaving a chore half-finished to play with equations.

This wasn’t one of those times, he’d only been zoned out for a few seconds. Now that he’d gotten over the moment of disorientation, he remembered that yes, he’d dismissed the last applicant, and they had closed the door behind them. Gaster stared at the open door. Was his next applicant a ghost?

“Uh, hey.” He looked down quickly, startled. It was another skeleton! A tiny, tiny skeleton?
“Oh my goodness. How old are you?”
Whoops. Bad Gaster. Bad. Now the tiny—the, the somewhat-shorter-than-average skeleton was giving him the stink eye, from about the level of the top of his desk. And now that he actually looked at it, it was definitely mature.
“It’s on the paper,” said the skeleton, gesturing left-handedly at the paper on the desk, which Gaster must have unconsciously pulled out in preparation for their meeting while still zoned out, because he didn’t remember it. “Everything is on the paper. My whole fricking life is on the piece of paper. My food likes and dislikes are on the piece of paper. Even my HP is on the piece of paper, which I’m a bit sour about actually, it’s embarrassing. None of the other jobs I’ve held made me write down my HP.”
Wow. He was steamed. That wasn’t the attitude he generally got from applicants. Was someone making him do this? Well, Gaster couldn’t entirely blame him. Stupid, stupid. Bad Gaster. “Please sit down.” The skeleton walked around the desk, hopped up onto the chair, and sort of melted into the backrest. He was wearing thick clothes, which made him look much rounder and more squishable than he could possibly have been as a skeleton, except for his thin white legs, which dangled from a pair of loose athletic shorts. Gaster, still rattled by his own faux pas, stalled for time by staring down at the short ske—at Sans’s application. Then realizing that he wasn’t actually reading it, just awkwardly staring at the paper so he wouldn’t have to look at Sans’s angry grin, which was quite scary. Then in desperation looking at the “HP: ___ “ section, if only for something to say, to break the tension of that terrible, awful beginning by reassuring the skeleton that his HP wouldn’t be a problem and that they only had the section because they’d be working in dangerous conditions and they just had to be sure that they didn’t hire anybody with ridiculously low HP, like—“…Is this a typo?”
“Where?” Sans said sulkily.
“It says you only have one HP!”
“Yeah.”
“You only have one HP?! How is that even possible?”
“Is that your business?”
“What—ha—how?! It s-says you have combat training! Wh—hy would any…one—dbb.” He lost track of his words midsentence, as he looked up from the impossible information on the paper and encountered Sans’s abnormally wide grin. That grin could look easygoing and friendly, he was sure, but at the moment it was terrifying.
“Maybe because Crawlers don’t stop to ask how high your HP is before they try to attack you. It’s good to know how to defend yourself. Besides, I was keeping my brother company.”
“Yes. Right. That’s good. Combat training is good it’s part of why I considered you. But one HP—“
“I’m good at dodging.”
“I’m sure you are. But we can’t just… send you out there, into the Hotlands, when… it’s just not right, do you understand? It wouldn’t be right to send someone who could be so easily killed into danger when I could find someone able to take more hits. This is going to be dangerous. Even without the location, the machines have a tendency to go haywire, because that’s what happens when nobody bothers with physics, things don’t work right—“
“Right, I’ll just—“
He froze. Gaster froze.
A magic construct in the shape of a dragonish skull floated at Sans’ left, resonating with magic energy. The rumble of magic rose in pitch to an audible whine.
“Shit,” said Sans in a small voice, and twisted his left hand. The skull swiveled away from Gaster to face the wall, the whine rising to a barely-contained hum.
Gaster’s mind came back online.
It looked like a cannon, and Sans was behaving like it was a cannon. He’d never seen a construct like that and didn’t know what to expect, but from the resonance he guessed the blast would be powerful. What was the likelihood that there was someone in the room across the hall? High, there often was at this time of day. High enough that he couldn’t risk the chance of letting a magic projectile blast of unknown power rip through two walls and take off an arm.
All these trains of thought snapped together simultaneously in a fraction of a second. Gaster lurched sideways out of his chain to get between the blaster and the wall. Halfway in front of it, he saw it split open with a BWAAAAAAAA of released energy. He flung up his shield at full strength, still off-balance, and the force of the blast knocked him over backwards. The back of his head hit the wall. He saw stars.

Sans, still frozen in his chair, stared at the immobile Head of the Physics Department on the floor.
Shit. Shit. Shiiiiiiiiit. He should have stayed in bed. He shouldn’t have let Papyrus intentionally pep-talk and unintentionally guilt-trip him out the door. He shouldn’t have told Papyrus he had an interview in the first place. Why had he listened to Papyrus? Papyrus thought everything was a good idea. This had not been a good idea. As soon as he’d woken up that morning Sans had felt that this was going to be a terrible, awful day where everything went wrong and for once he should have listened to that feeling wholeheartedly. Sometimes it was wrong, but sometimes it was right.
‘Mr. Sans, explain to us what happened.’ ‘Dr. Gaster insulted my height and then I shot him in the face and he died of shock.’ ‘Mr. Dreemurr, I know your tendency is to give mercy, but in this case I would argue for maximum punishment.’ ‘Absolutely! To the Dark Caverns with him!’
No, Dr. Gaster was moving. Thank God. Sans would live another day. Probably in prison.

The energy had dissipated. He was alive. Gaster stood up slowly and touched the right shoulder of his coat, where the cloth was scorched. He looked at the wall. A faint crescent-shaped burn mark showed where the blast had glanced off his shield. He felt strangely lightheaded. Deep breaths. Focus on the present.
“I’m sorry,” said a weak voice, and he looked over at Sans, who was cringing in his chair with blank eyesockets. “I’m… glad you had a shield. I, uh, didn’t sleep very well last night and I just… I’m sorry, I’ve never done that before.”
“Can you do it again?”
“What?”
Gaster braced his back against the wall and reformed his shield.
“Shoot me. That’s a very interesting attack, I’ve never seen one like it.”
Sans stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged, slid onto the floor and raised his arm. His left eyelight flared electric blue. A beam of energy hit the shield.
“Keep them coming. This is a good shield.”
“OK.”
Several rapid-fire blasts converged on the shield, then, as Sans saw that they hadn’t broken through, he created a spiral pattern, one skull appearing right behind another so that there was a constant stream of light firing at the shield, erasing the features of the room in a flood of white. Gaster, even though he was already braced, had to fight to keep standing. Then, almost as soon as it had started, it stopped. He was blinded. Slowly the light dissipated and the room came back into focus. Sans looked like he might be out of breath.
“Impressive,” said Gaster. He noticed, as if from a distance, that the room was a mess. The final attack had knocked nearly everything that wasn’t already on the floor onto the floor. “Does that cut through Crawler tendrils?”
“Yeah, it does. I’ve had to use it for that before. It’s pretty handy.”
“And they’re timed.”
“Huh?”
“They all fired 1.5 seconds after appearing.”
“Uh, yeah. I can’t really change that, or I don’t know how to. Which is why the first one went off after I accidentally summoned it, sorry.”
“Are you good at dodging?”
A little of the grin came back.
“The best. How do you think I survive fights? Hey, try and hit me.”
Gaster summoned the smallest bullets he could easily maintain. Try to hit a guy with only one HP? If Sans hadn’t had a good breakfast, he could conceivably be on less than a full hitpoint. He didn’t like this, but Sans seemed to know what he was doing, and each hit should only take off a small fraction of health.
“Alright, run around,” said Gaster, throwing the first wave of bullets forwards.
Sans didn’t run around. He stood watching the approaching bullets with a knowing grin, head slightly lowered.
He didn’t so much dodge the bullets as step lazily around them. Gaster had never seen someone move that fast, and yet there was no wasted movement. He threw more bullets, and Sans just kept stepping around them. Now they were both grinning.  “Good! Very good!” He sped up the bullets, bringing them in from the side, from the back, keeping Sans on his toes. Sans kept avoiding them, moving around more and more—in a less slouchy person it would have looked like dancing—finally vaulting over the corner of the desk, knocking down the last object which hadn’t fallen to the floor. A framed, very faded chart of the stars.
“Oh gosh I’m sorry.” Sans stopped, and Gaster accidentally pinged him in the back of the skull with one of his bullets. He quickly waved the rest of them away.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s fine.” Gaster stooped and replaced the chart in its place on his desk. It looked a little ridiculous, sitting at the edge of an empty surface. Sans, who was definitely out of breath now, looked around in growing alarm.
“Yeesh.” He chuckled uncomfortably. “Looks like ah… wow sorry. Got carried away there.”
“No no, you’ve convinced me. Don’t do it again though please.” Gaster stepped over his downed chair, around the desk, and extended his hand. “It is Sans, isn’t it?”
Sans looked up at him, taking the offered hand with a firm grip. “Yep. Sorry for losing my sanses there. I’m happy to meet’cha.” He was quite cute when he smiled. The terrifying kind of cute. Gaster reminded himself never again to mention height in his presence. Gaster reminded himself that he was a physicist, dammit, he wrote stuff about why things did the things, sometimes he even made things do things; he never said he could be a manager. That required social skills. They hadn’t even got into the lava and people were trying to kill him. Well, Sans hadn’t really tried to kill him, which was encouraging, because he was starting to like the little guy. No bad Gaster don’t call him little! Bad!
“...O-oh…Doc… Are you… alright?...” He looked up to find a trembling Alphys and a heavily armed guard in the door, staring at them. He released Sans’s hand.
“Oh. You heard that?”
“Everyone in the building heard it! What did you do? D-did you e-explode something?” her eyes swept the floor.
“Well, I wouldn’t call it a real explosion. There was a lot of magic flying around. And you know this place isn’t especially neat at the best of times.” Alphys padded forwards, paws clasped in front of her.
“D-don’t do that again. I was.. I was so frightened.”
“I’m sorry, Alphys.” He reached down, calling just enough magic back into his bones to make him pleasantly warm, and lifted Alphys, cradling her like a puppy. He couldn’t remember exactly when he’d discovered that she didn’t mind being lifted in this way, but it made conversations much easier on both of them. She was even smaller than Sans, who, now that Gaster had him standing still nearby, came about to Gaster’s waist. “Alphys, this is Sans, the applicant you heard me.. talking to. Sans, Alphys is my personal assistant. Would you like to go get some noodles, Alphys? You’ve had a scare. Sans, I’d be happy if you would come as well.”
Alphys squirmed and put her snout near Gaster’s earhole. “Doctor he just tried to kill you.”
“He did not try to kill me. I was doubtful about his combat abilities, so I asked him to spar with me.” Sans gave Gaster a grateful, slightly shocked look. The guard slowly backed out of sight. “It was rather untoward, I know, but I hope you won’t hold it against me. Or Sans.”
“A-alright. Warn me next time! I thought you had died!”
“Alphys, we’ve been over this. I don’t die easily. You should find other things to worry about.” He was not encouraged by the way Alphys immediately looked at Sans. “Can’t we get along and have noodles?”
Alphys sniffed. “I don’t have money with me.”
“I’m paying.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am. Sans, come along.”

 

 

A/N: Just for the record this is not a slashfic 

Sans basically comes in with Megalovania playing and then switches to sans. Which is unusual. Then again, this is a younger, perhaps angstier Sans.

EDIT: 5/28/17 

Brushed up a few things. Explained in full in Ch. 36 note. If you've been here before, sorry for gaslighting you. If you're here for the first time... you saw nothing, it's always been this way, what are you talking about shhhhh Also welcome onboard!

Chapter 2: Things Not Exploding

In which boss monsters are discussed and The Semi Great Papyrus loves his job.

 

So Dr. Gaster was a boss monster.

Sans knew that there were only three left in the Underground. The humans had gone after them first, and the war had burned through them like dry leaves in a bonfire. One had collapsed into dust upon exiting the barrier. Another had survived longer before going insane and attacking the King and Queen, the other two boss monsters—at the time, only refugees like everyone else. That one naturally didn’t last long. But there was a third still alive, and it must be Dr. Gaster, which surprised Sans. At least that would explain his height. Boss monsters tended to be larger than normal ones of their kind, and Gaster fulfilled that requirement as far as height went. Being a skeleton, he was thin, unlike Asgore, who might as well be a walking fur sofa. Apart from that, there was his magic. Sans had never felt anything that powerful, and he’d expended it casually, as if it came from an inexhaustible store. Gaster’s skull had been hacked open in two places, one crack gaping from his left eyesocket to his jaw and another, much worse, opening the top of his skull down to his right eyesocket, where his eyelid remained half-closed. (Skeletons did have eyelids. It probably had something to do with magic. Nobody was quite sure.) The palms of his hands were broken, warped frames of shattered bone partially fused at the knuckles around an empty center. Sans couldn’t imagine how they could have healed like that, or how they were still usable. The skull injuries alone should have killed any ordinary skeleton. He’d taken it all, stabilized, and kept going. He had to be a boss monster.
Heh. It was interesting, but now that he thought about it, it wasn’t likely to help Gaster get funding from Asgore, was it? Unless they were friends, which was possible, considering that he and the King were members, perhaps the sole members, of a nearly extinct species. But the CORE project didn’t seem to be getting much attention. Sure, it wasn’t as flashy as some, but if they were going to keep up the DT experiments and try to get reliable electricity to the rest of the Underground too, they needed a better generator… Sans sighed. He was obsessed with science, had even scraped up enough time and money to take a few courses at the university and had a proficiency for it that might have gotten a decent job for someone with better luck. Not that the sentry job wasn’t pretty sweet, compared to others he’d worked in the past, and it meant more time with Papyrus. He just wasn’t a big fan of hanging out in the woods doing nothing. No, actually, he was, but preferably on his free time. It was alright for something to do, but not as a job, not when he had so many ideas that interested him more. And he didn’t have Papyrus’ frenetic optimism that a human would fall down and be caught by them and gloriously escorted to the capitol with a fanfare of trumpets in praise of its capturer and confetti raining from the skies. At the moment he didn’t have much optimism at all. He huddled deeper into his jacket. Moist air drifted across his skull. From the ferry, he could see the dim constellation of Snowdin’s lights coming closer. Home, and light, and monsters to whom he would need to explain how the interview had gone. Joy.

Alphys wouldn’t let Gaster leave, or consent to leave herself, until they had straightened up the mess of his office. When it was again respectable, Gaster had to make her stop organizing. She straightened reluctantly and glared at the papers he’d stacked in an unsorted pile behind his desk.
“Alphys.”
“Yes, Dr. Gaster?”
“On a scale of ‘that’s weird even for you’ to ‘please don’t do this,’ how crazy of an idea is it to hire someone who started a fight in your office?”
“Uh, asking your lowly lab assistant for advice on who to hire would be a ‘please don’t,’ and hiring Sans would be a ‘sweet Lord please kill me now.’”
“Ah.”
“So you’re really considering this?”
“He has aptitude. And nerve.”
“There’s a difference between nerve and psychopathy.”
“Yes. And there’s another difference between psychopathy and desperation.”
“Ugh. Look, you’ve told me that you’re not psychic, so I wish you’d stop pretending to be when it’s convenient for you.”
Gaster chuckled. “Such a flow of opinions from the lowly lab assistant. I should invite madmonsters into my office more often if it gets such refreshing vivacity from you. Not that I believe Sans was actually mad.” 
He could be wrong, but he thought he was pretty good at gauging emotions. Sans had seemed stressed and angry and desperately tired, but not really aggressive towards him, he thought. Perhaps just the world in general. He was interesting, and worrying, and Gaster wanted to see more of him.
“Oh. God. You’re actually doing this.”
“Maybe, if he’ll consent to wearing something other than athletic shorts. Hate those things.”
“He attacked you in your office and you’re concerned about what he was wearing?! N-not that that wasn’t horrible too. He looked really gross.”
“Really, Alphys. You’re in fine form today.”
“He scared me! You both scared me! And don’t pretend he didn’t start the fight, I saw you blatantly covering for him out of your stupendously oversized sense of compassion.”
“Can compassion be oversized?”
“Yes!”
“Alphys, you ought to be the Royal Scientist. You’ll be murdering people before you know it.”
“Oh, shut up.” The Royal Scientist was not particularly liked by either of them, although Gaster was usually less vocal about his dislike.
“There’s a pragmatic justification for hiring him, too. We’re on a tight budget, and he’s cheap.” Alphys made a disgusted noise. “Come on, don’t pretend that that doesn’t make you respect my decision a bit more.”
“Only by a tiny small fraction of tininess, but yes.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Ugh. I can’t believe you.”
“Yes you can.”

Sans slammed the door. “Papyrus, I’m home.” He waited for an answering shout but got none. Well, that was odd. He went into the kitchen and found an all-caps note scribbled in crayon, to the effect that PAPYRUS WAS OFF DOING SENTRY DUTY with someone who something and something and WANTED COMPANY and EXTRA SHIFT something something BEAUTIFUL NIGHT FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO KEEP VIGIL IN PROTECTING MONSTERKIND. Which meant Sans was alone. He went back into the living room and threw himself down on the couch.
Well, now he had some time to think about what to tell Papyrus. He wasn’t looking forward to that, and really, he couldn’t find any way to make it sound better. After lying on his ribs for a while he realized that he was hungry. Normally he would go to Grillby’s, but for once it didn’t appeal to him. The place was too warm and busy. Usually he found it reassuring, but he didn’t want even that at the moment. He didn’t want to look at anyone. He didn’t want to bother getting up and finding himself food in the kitchen either. So, he drifted into his default state in such situations: sleep, a deep, warm cavern below caverns where nothing could touch him.

Gaster knew it had been a long day when he slammed his skull into the lintel of his front door trying to walk inside. That only happened when he was especially out of it. Which, frankly, wasn’t as rare an occurrence as he would like. But still.
He ducked into the hallway and shut the door gently behind him, then, after resting in the darkness for a moment, lit the crystals in the hallway and adjoining rooms with a flare of his magic. He set a fire spell to heat some water for tea, picked up one of his cats which was wandering around, walked into the living room and threw himself down across the couch. He took up the entire length of it and his legs dangled off the end. He stroked the cat, which settled into a fold of his cloak—more comfortable than resting on his chest, where only a shirt covered the hard bones—and purred softly. There were very few ordinary animals in the Underground. But the humans had turned against cats at around the same time that they had turned against monsters, and Gaster was sympathetic. He’d carried several with him into the Underground and they had reproduced. They didn’t seem to be thriving in the cavernous environment, but there were a few still wandering around, leading to the curious circumstance of a cat-monster known to Gaster caring for several non-monster cats of the quadrupedal variety.

The cat fell into a doze and Gaster reached down into his bag, where he’d let it drop by the side of the couch. Notes. No. Recipes for homemade soup. No. More notes; science notes plus a note to remind himself not to forget something which he’d forgotten. He crumpled it up. No. No. Where—? Was there a portal to the void in the bottom of his bag? Ah. Clipboard. Applications. Here we go. He worked the clipboard out of the bag without either dropping any papers or waking the cat, which he considered a success. He flipped through the applications. So many. So many monsters reduced to an inevitably gross-looking mug shot and a blurb about their capabilities.

There actually weren’t very many at all. He just felt overwhelmed by the responsibility of choosing. It’s not a big deal, Asgore had said. You’ll do just fine, Asgore had said. It’ll be a small, handpicked team, surely you’ll all get along just fine, no need to worry about your managerial incapacity, Asgore had said. Ha. Haha.

Ah, there it was. He pulled out the young skeleton’s sheet, which he’d collected from the floor before leaving his office, and looked at it again. Never before had he seen a skeleton who, despite having no tissues at all, managed to look chubby. It was just the way his skull was shaped. His eyeglowing was uneven, a good sign of a skeleton in low condition. He’d listed one family member, a brother in Snowdin. The one he’d mentioned training with? There weren’t many skeletons left, and the Underground was full of dangers. It wouldn’t be surprising if that was all the family he had. Now that he thought about it, maybe part of the reason for the single HP was rough usage, though it had to have been extremely low to start with. At first glance Sans looked younger than he was, but after looking closer, his voice and haggard appearance made him seem even older. Perhaps his childhood had been taken up in caring for his brother. It would make sense. Gaster wondered what the brother was like.

“SANS! HOW DID THE INTERVIEW GO?”
Sans flinched and shoved his face deeper into the couch cushions. “Hey bro.”
“SANS? IT’S NOT TIME TO SLEEP YET! IF YOU REALLY MUST SLEEP, DO IT AT NIGHT!...” Papyrus came into the room and looked at the sad lump on the couch. “THE GREAT PAPYRUS’S BROTHERLY INTUITION TELLS HIM YOU ARE NOT PARTICULARLY HAPPY. DID IT GO BADLY?”
“Nah. Nope. Not at all.”
“OH! DID IT GO WELL?”
“Heh.”
“HEH?”
“Heh.”
“BROTHER, I DON’T SPEAK ‘HEH’! TELL ME IN PLAIN WORDS!” Sans hesitated, and Papyrus quickly elucidated, “AND NOT IN PUNS, EITHER!” Usually this was a cue for Sans to make up as many terrible puns as monsterly possible, but he didn’t feel like it.
“…I didn’t get arrested.”
“WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU HAVE BEEN ARRESTED, BROTHER?”
“Because I kind of lost my temper and fought him in his office.”
“YOU WHAT.”
“Attacked Dr. Gaster in his office. Wrecked the place. So you could say my chances are dead, but then, I’m a skeleton, so—“
“SANS WHAT?! YOU NEVER LOSE YOUR TEMPER!”
“I think I’ve just proved that I do, and at very stupid times.”
“BUT WHY? SANS, THIS RIDICULOUS ACTION IS UNWORTHY OF YOU.”
“I lost my temper. You know how many times I’ve tried this. Nobody wants to hire me, now that the king’s passed that law about HP checks in ‘dangerous’ jobs, which apparently is anything science-related or fun.”
“EVERYTHING YOU’RE APPLYING FOR IS LESS DANGEROUS THAN THE SENTRY JOB YOU ALREADY HAVE!”
“I know. So, I wasn’t in the best mood to start with. And then he commented on my height.” Papyrus gasped and covered the lower half of his face with gauntleted hands.
“HE DIDN’T!”
Sans shrugged. “It’s a valid point. It was more the way he did it. He seemed distracted when I walked in and didn’t notice me. Then he kept looking right over my head, and I had to yell at him to get his attention. You’d think I was only two inches high.”
“UGH!”
“Yeah, it was pretty annoying. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, though.”
“STILL! THAT’S JUST NOT NICE.” Sans snickered fondly at his brother.
“If everyone was as considerate as The Great Papyrus, nobody would have to worry about lost tempers and none of this could have happened.”
“WHAT DID HAPPEN, EXACTLY?”
“Heh. He let me spar with him, calmed me down, told me he didn’t doubt my combat abilities, and then took me and some other person out for lunch… Ugh. He’s not the kind of guy I’d pick a fight with, really.”
“HE SOUNDS LIKE THE KING!”
“Yeah, kinda. They’re both boss monsters. Maybe there is something to that theory that boss monsters have to have more Hope, Love and Compassion. It is something to do with their Souls—“
“WAIT! I THOUGHT THE KING WAS THE ONLY ONE LEFT? I MEAN, BESIDES THE QUEEN, BUT SHE’S.. NOT REALLY AROUND?”
“Nah, there were three boss monsters left, remember? You know this stuff. Dr. Gaster must have been the third. I didn’t realize that.”
“NEITHER DID I! HOW EXCITING! BUT WHY HAVEN’T WE HEARD ABOUT HIM? AND WHY DOES HE HIDE AWAY IN SOME DINGY LAB WHEN HE COULD BE IN THE ROYAL GUARD?”
“I dunno. He seemed shy. Oh, man, I wish I hadn’t fought him.”
“A BOSS MONSTER COULD EASILY BE IN THE ROYAL GUARD!”
“What is it with you and the Royal Guard?”
“OH, NOTHING. IT’S JUST THAT THEY’RE SO COOL!”
“Yeah, well, it’s basically a glorified sentry job. I bet you could be in the Royal Guard if you wanted.”
“YOU THINK? WOWIE, THAT’S A THOUGHT. BUT IT’S SO FUN BEING A SENTRY!”
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself. Anyway, being a boss monster doesn’t necessarily mean you’re good at fighting. Maybe he’s like Asgore, and prefers to use his magic for growing flowers. Or for fueling science experiments, I dunno, that seems more like him.”
“WELL I CERTAINLY HOPE WE CAN MEET HIM AGAIN! HE SOUNDS INTERESTING!”
Sans made an unhappy sound. “I don’t.”
“DON’T YOU LIKE HIM?”
“Yes, Papyrus, I do like him. I very much like the shy, entirely too gracious and forgiving man whose office I wrecked and whom I may have emotionally traumatized because he didn’t humor my ridiculous size.”
“OH, BROTHER, DON’T BE UPSET. I’M SURE HE FORGIVES YOU.”
“Agh, that almost makes it worse!”

 

A/N: I decided to update the first two chapters together, because I feel like the first chapter’s just “EXPLOSIONS!!!” and the second chapter is just “Wait no please don’t leave we can justify those explosions I swear” and so they belong together. Neither of them makes a heck of a lot of sense alone.

Edited slightly 5/28/17, with ch. 1.

Chapter 3: Floof

In which there is a floofy jacket. There is also italic exposition right after the italic splash text. Oops.

When Gaster said the cracks in his face came from fighting humans, the usual assumption was that he’d fought in the war. He hadn’t. He had avoided it as much as possible, and so the humans hadn’t gone after him like they had others, killing them or forcing them through the Barrier. This Barrier was guarded by a detachment of human guards, a flat space in the end of a shallow cave, a wall of what he could only call dense light. He could go through unharmed, but never out.

Had he gone through as soon as he heard of the humans’ victory terms then he would have been fine. But he didn’t. He began rounding up the monsters from outlying areas who, for various reasons, hadn’t been able to get to the Barrier on time, and guiding them to it. If they stayed on the surface, they would be killed. They had to be smuggled to the Barrier cave, where the human guards would let them in: no point in fighting refugees. The monsters knew when they were beaten and almost none made any trouble—those that did were quickly turned to dust. The Barrier guards all knew of Gaster and his work, and some approved, some merely tolerated, but none tried to stop him.

Until the Captain came. Gaster never knew his name, but he remembered his face… he didn’t see him at first, only his army, encamped around the cave where the Barrier was. It took hours of working slowly from bush to bush for Gaster and his party of monster refugees to reach the edge of the encampment unseen. Above them, Gaster could see one of the guards whom he knew standing at the cave mouth. So they hadn’t changed that. Once there they should be safe. They had always been permitted to pass through before—it was the last, paltry right granted them by the victor humans, the right to flee into the darkness and scrape out a living there, separated forever from the sun and wind, but alive nonetheless. That just left the problem of the sentries at the bottom of the slope. Gaster wasn’t sure what they were doing there or how they would react to monsters. He decided to find out. Leaving the other monsters, he walked up behind the guards and struck up a friendly conversation. It was rather difficult to discuss the weather while ducking under repeated spear thrusts, but at any rate, it was working. Behind the sentries, unnoticed, he saw the monsters he’d been leading disappear one at a time into the cave mouth, occasionally assisted by the guard. By the time they had all disappeared Gaster was flaking dust from several scratches. Dodging a final spear thrust he sprinted for the slope. By that time it seemed the entire army had been roused. The only escape left to him was the Barrier. As he ran up the slope he thought of all the monsters left outside. There were other guides, perhaps they could find their way without him, but given the welcome they’d received this time, he questioned their ability to reach the Barrier at all.
He reached the cave mouth and scrambled inside, barely noticing the odd look the guard gave him.
Inside, he slowed. The air looked strange here, clouded with a kind of dry mist. Was it an effect of the Barrier that he hadn’t noticed before? Something on the floor slowed and muffled his steps. Something light and soft. Dust.

No.

White dust, lying in little piles scattered across the floor, clouding the air.

“I’m sorry.” He turned quickly. It was the guard he’d seen at the entrance. Gaster noticed, in a daze, that his armor was coated with dust, and that his sword was in his hand. Gaster stood motionless, eye sockets blank. “I… it wasn’t our idea, but the Captain came, and…” The guard looked at something behind Gaster. “Go. Go to the barrier, quick. They can’t stop you if you run.”

Gaster turned. He didn’t know this man standing behind him with a dust-coated battle-axe and a dust-coated grin, but he knew he hated him.

Despair. Enemy of Hope.

It wasn’t so easy to lose one’s temper.

He’d manifested his magic, eyes glaring a hot purple—the axe swung, he barely ducked enough to avoid a full hit, but as it was, his face split open, and new dust shimmered in the air—

Hatred, opposed to Compassion.

It wasn’t easy to lose your temper.

The blood looked very bright when it lay nestled in little droplets on the white dust. The dust clouded the air like a heavy snowfall, shimmering in the torchlight. Somewhere, a part of him recognized that some of the guards weren’t fighting, and tried to spare them. Several were already dead from his sweeping attack which seemed to have hit everyone except the one it was aimed at—the Captain. The guard that had spoken to Gaster was on his knees in the dust, trying to stanch a flow of blood from his chest.
The next axe stroke nearly halved his skull. He saw a flash of white, and then nothing from his right eye. He had to dodge better.

Somehow, he stayed conscious. Somehow, he avoided the axe and worked his way back towards the Barrier, but the Captain was shouting at his men, and more were pouring in at the cave mouth, and some of the remaining guards were drawing their swords. Gaster’s magic filled the cave with flashes of lethal blue. Only the Captain seemed to avoid each wave. The Barrier might have been reachable for a moment, but Gaster couldn’t leave while that man was standing there grinning at him.

Vengeance, opposite of Love.

A monster’s soul was made of Hope, Compassion and Love.

Hatred. Despair. Vengeance.

No, he hadn’t been proud of himself that day. It was easy to lose your temper…

Gaster opened his eyes. The water was boiling. The cat had moved onto his chest and ironed creases into Sans’s application with its body heat. Gaster gently removed the cat, which gave him a look of deep disappointment, and put the application back on the clipboard.

Mercy, an aspect of Compassion. Compassion, an aspect of Love. Hope, trust in the final sovereignty of Good.

Hope.

Despair.

Despair had grown since the monsters had been driven Underground. He’d watched it, and it had frightened him. He hadn’t known how to deal with it, and he had secluded himself, for the most part, for long years. He’d been a coward.

Fear. Another enemy of Love.

He spooned the correct amount of dried flowers into the mesh steeper, dropped it into his teapot and filled it with hot water. The smell soothed him.

He’d almost been dead when they found him on the Underground side of the Barrier. He’d seen a flash of white, heard a voice. Love had saved him.

He returned to the couch, curled up, and sipped his tea. How many years since the Queen had disappeared? Not the Queen only, but sister, brother, mother, all had disappeared at once, and Asgore was left alone, supreme and unsupported ruler of the vast darkness where they were trapped. He had lashed out, as Gaster himself had once before.

“Any human who falls into the Underground shall be subdued by any means necessary and delivered to Me.”

Hope he had been, Despair he had become. His people followed where he led, and Gaster watched, and did nothing. It seemed he always would watch and do nothing, unless he was losing his temper and killing people.

It was really very good tea. The cat, also, seemed to have forgiven him for moving it, for it had come back down from the bookshelf to which it had retreated, and was curled up on a tail of his cloak, purring warmly. Its oddly static, non-magical, mammalian warmth sank into his thigh bone. The warmth of the tea sent pleasant ripples of magic across his body.

Asgore would say that he was Hope. Hope of getting out. Hope of reaching the Surface again, and taking Vengeance. But Hope could endure in the dark, could endure all but Despair, and Despair was what drove Asgore to this.

Love had left the King. It could not endure his obsession with Vengeance.

Love had left them all.

Well, Gaster would survive. He’d survived quite a lot so far, and he had his tea, and his cats, and his charts of the stars. It was downright pleasant, here, now. But some things were missing. It seemed the monsters had left Hope and Love lying in the sunlight outside the Barrier. Or, perhaps, they had buried them under golden flowers, with the body of the first fallen child.

“SANS NO WONDER NO ONE WILL EMPLOY YOU! YOU NEVER WASH YOUR CLOTHES!”
“I’m a skeleton, they don’t get dirty very quickly.”
“JUST GIVE ME YOUR DIRTY CLOTHES AND I’LL WASH THEM WITH MINE!”
Sans sighed. He was lying on the couch, and his room was all the way up the stairs and down the hallway. Once there, he’d have to figure out which of the articles of clothing strewn around the room were dirty, and place them in a laundry basket. “Later.”
“IT’S ALWAYS LATER WITH YOU AND I’M SICK OF IT! UNLOCK YOUR ROOM AND I’LL DO IT MYSELF!”
That sounded better, but he didn’t want Papyrus in his room. It was a hideous wreck, he hadn’t gotten around to cleaning it yet, and that was a lecture he just didn’t want to hear. “Thanks, bro. I’ll do that later, too.”
“SAAAAAANSSS!”
“Like, next week. I don’t really need anything washed right now.”
“THAT’S WHAT YOU’VE BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS!”
“Next week, bro.”
“SANS YOU KNOW VERY WELL YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO DO IT!”
“Sure I will. Later.”
Papyrus actually came out of the kitchen, still wearing his apron, and glared at him. Sans grinned back. Papyrus picked him up, carried him up the stairs, and plunked him down in front of his own door. “SANS. PICK UP YOUR DIRTY CLOTHES AND PUT THEM IN THIS HAMPER OR SO HELP ME I WILL HARM YOU.”
“Wow, stop being so thin-skinned. You’d almost think you didn’t have any skin at all.”
“SANS! THIS IS NOT HELPING!”
“Right, fine, I’m doing it. I’m opening the door. See? I’m going inside, see?”
“TAKE THE HAMPER WITH YOU!”
“Man, you’re so needy.” Sans pulled the hamper inside and attempted to close the door. Papyrus stopped it with his hand and glared at him for several seconds before letting go and walking downstairs. Sans, waiting, heard him start humming a few seconds later in the kitchen. If Papyrus could be easily rattled, at least it didn’t last for long. Sans, who’d gotten used to Papyrus’s excitability long ago, found it endearing. He closed and locked the door. Before he could turn around, his magic flared, making his left eye flicker with color. The ruff on his jacket fluffed out in a supremely undignified way. Sans froze for a moment. He hated when that happened. Finally he turned to look at his room.

Wow. It really was a mess.

It didn’t help that some of the objects he’d tested his developing powers of telekinesis on still hadn’t come down from the ceiling. He looked doubtfully up at a levitating sweater and wondered, if he could get it down, would the washing machine would take out the floatiness? He’d rather not test it. It might just make the rest of the batch floaty. He could hear Papyrus now, if he opened the door of the washing machine and the wash sailed up into his face… he snorted. That would be something. He’d better not try it. Instead, he looked around at the various articles of clothing that were attached to the floor in the normal fashion.
He didn’t need all these clothes. He really only needed two outfits. He was tempted to get rid of all the rest just to avoid dealing with them.
Come on, Sans, that’s stupid. You like some of these clothes. You don’t even have that many. Just put them in the hamper. It’s not worth sorting out which ones are “clean” or not, they’ve been on the floor, Papyrus would tell you to wash them all.
He slowly piled all the clothes that weren’t already (semi-)folded in the dresser (actually they were just sort of stuffed in) into the hamper, which he shoved outside, then sat down on his mattress. He’d never gotten around to buying a bedframe for it. What was the point when the thing worked perfectly well on the floor?

You’ve failed again. Good job. Oh, but it’s worse this time, you attacked someone, so, good job, now you’re a deranged maniac as well as a useless bundle of weak bones and malfunctioning magic. You’re getting worse. I’m fine, you said. I’m getting better, you said. Well, you’re not, you’re giving up what strength you had, you’re giving up and now there’s nothing to do but watch your slow descent into utter failure at everything. Let’s see, you’ve already attacked someone nice that you might have liked, now you just need to lose everything else you could possibly be proud of and we’re good.

Sans curled up in a ball on his mattress and tried to think of happy things, like warm ketchup. The multicolored lights of Snowdin seen through black trees and silent snowfall. The golden warmth spilling from the kitchen windows into the eternal dusk when Papyrus was cooking with fire magic. But all the images seemed far away, as if he watched them pass by above him from the bottom of a deep well. It was too much effort to keep up, and the hope of light and warmth faded away, leaving him, Sans, curled in a pathetic ball on a bare mattress in a messy room with random pieces of debris drifting around the ceiling because of his out-of-control magic. It was too tiring. He let himself fall asleep. That was the best thing.

A/N: I SWEAR I will write something soon in which something happens other than characters sitting on couches and thinking thoughts. That said, I like this chapter.
Bonus: a few of the floating objects in Sans’s room never do come down, they just sort of tumble together and form a self-sustaining junk tornado in a corner. Yep, that’s where that comes from.
Also! I got the idea of Sans’s jacket floofing from these DeviantArt comics: Bunnymuse: Underfell Floof Bunnymuse: Fight Me
I just thought it was hilarious and it ended up becoming a part of the story. Though, again, it's not an actual reaction to anything in this case, just something random. Which Sans is not OK with.
Also this. This is simply beautiful. World-of-Saranime Fluffy Sans

Chapter 4: Going to Grillby's

In which Papyrus really just wants his bedtime story.

Sans, despite Papyrus’s greatest attempts to rouse him by shouting through the door, missed dinner in the form of bread and cheese and something burned beyond recognition. Papyrus was still working on his cooking. Sometime later in the evening, no longer able to sleep, Sans got up and left the house for Grillby’s, which was still open, the blaze of light from its windows visible from far down the street. Inside, it smelled of grease, soot and cleanness, inexplicably mingled into something warm and reassuring. Grillby himself, the source of much of the light in the building, looked up as Sans walked in. He was polishing a glass behind the counter—Sans almost never saw him still, if he wasn’t serving, he was polishing something, and though the air was always filled with grease and soot, it never accumulated. Grillby was a fire elemental in neat, never scorched clothes; an immaculate white shirt and black silk slacks, vest, sleeve garters and bowtie. Even the crackling of his flames seemed neat and calculated. The place was quiet, only a few late talkers still sat at tables. Sans trudged up to the bar and pulled himself onto a stool. Grillby leaned over him.
“.you’re here late.” His voice was a faint whisper of flame, thus necessitating the close proximity and relative lack of noisy atmosphere. Grillby usually communicated with gestures and sometimes, rarely, by an intimidating ruffle of his flames. Snowdin was small and peaceful, and any disputes that did occur could generally be resolved by this.
“Yep.”
“.don’t drink that ketchup.I’ve got some put aside special for you.”
“Thanks, I’m good on ketchup.”
“.really.what then?.”
“Huh, what’s that thing that’s fried and has ice cream and cinnamon and basically everything?”
“.that thing.”
“That thing, the really good sugary thing. I want that.”
“.excellent.”
It was a fried and still crackling dessert roll stuffed with honey cinnamon cheesecake, drenched in whipped cream and chocolate and nestled against a large scoop of melting vanilla ice cream. It was one of Sans’s favorite things in the world, but he tried to refrain from eating it except on special occasions. Grillby watched him tuck into the concoction with satisfaction and let him eat for a while in silence.
“.so.that one didn’t go well either.” Sans choked on his food. How he managed this without possessing throat or tongue would make an interesting subject of scientific inquiry, but such is not the purpose of this tale. “.ah.I won’t mention it.looks like another snow’s starting, eh?.I just got the path nice and swept.”
“Grillby, have I ever told you what an excellent monster being you are?”
“.I believe it was understood.I am excellent.”
“Yes, you are.” Grillby leaned his arm on the counter and crackled with contentment, almost like a cat purring. Sans ate in silent concentration. The monster food melted, in a glorious glow of crunchy creamy cinnamon honey cream sweetness, into pure energy that rippled across his body, warming his bones and his very soul. He could never be really unhappy while eating this. He basked in the moment, trying to eat slowly, storing up feelings of wellbeing and contentment for the future. He felt he would need them in the next few days, and he was going to run short, as he couldn’t possibly spend all his time eating. But it was good to get a break. After finishing he sat back and basked in the comforting ambiance of Grillby’s, in no hurry to leave. If he stayed long enough there was a good chance he wouldn’t have to walk home. Sure enough—
“BROTHER!!”
—He heard the door open, energetically enough to send it rebounding from the wall with a crash. There was no sound of it connecting with the monster who’d flung it open, however, probably because they had already leapt inside.
“IT IS PAST YOUR BEDTIME!” Sans quickly searched for his wallet in one of the capacious pockets of his jacket. Ketchup residue, wrapper residue, dog residue—there it was—too late, Papyrus had reached him. “REALLY BROTHER ONE WOULD THINK YOU LIVED HERE INSTEAD OF AT HOME! HELLO GRILLBY, SO SORRY MY GREAT LOUT OF A BROTHER INSISTS ON LIVING AT YOUR ESTABLISHMENT! GOODBYE!” He threw Sans over his shoulder, spun, and marched back towards the door. Grillby made a sound that could have been laughter.
“Guess we’ll have to put that on my tab,” said Sans, and Grillby, too far away to speak audibly, made several quick gestures, signing already done. Sans just had time to give him thumbs up before being whisked out the door. Outside, a cold draft swirled snowflakes across his skull. He pulled his hood up and nuzzled his face into Papyrus’ collar. He’d gotten over the weirdness of his baby brother being enormously tall and strong, and lately, it was reassuring. Paps could take care of himself now. Sometimes he took care of both of them, though he usually didn’t realize to what extent. Sans thought it should stay that way. Papyrus was cheerful and carefree, able to focus on little things, like improving(???) his fire magic, and this cute little developing obsession with the Royal Guard. Sans liked to see him like that.
Besides. A concerned Papyrus was, frankly, an awkward and a clumsy Papyrus. He meant well, and he tried—dear God, he tried so hard it was infuriating—but he had no idea. So. At home, there was nothing wrong with Sans, except for a chronic sense of fatigue which, though not really the extent of his symptoms, could be used to explain away the others. Sans didn’t stop doing things and lie on the floor because he suddenly had no desire to live, it was because he was chronically exhausted and shockingly lazy. And both of those were also true.

Several days later Alphys met Dr. Gaster outside the lab. Gaster, in the act of putting on his coat, shied sideways, horrified that he’d nearly stepped on her tail. “Hello!”
“B-bad day? You seem eager to g-get out.”
“No more than the usual, really. How are you?”
“A-alright!”
Gaster paused. “You want to talk with me.”
“I do.” She climbed up the side of his coat and settled with one forearm through a belt loop and her thick tail shoved down a pocket for stability. Gaster hooked his arm around her to keep her from swinging and resumed walking. When walking at his usual pace, which was a bit fast even for someone closer to his size, it took Alphys about ten rapid steps to equal one of his.
“I mailed that stack of letters today.”
“Good.”
“And because I’m a nosy little lizard I looked at the names on all of them, and they’re the acceptance letters for the new interns, right?”
“They are.”
“I didn’t see a skeleton name anywhere in there, which made me very relieved. Until I noticed that there was one less of the group than the number I thought you’d agreed on.” Gaster said nothing. “Is something weird going on here?”
“Not weird, just…” Gaster pulled a letter out of his unoccupied pocket, and Alphys looked at the name on it with an expression that made Gaster very happy that she had no talent for fire magic—otherwise, it might have burst into flames, and he’d struggled enough with writing professional-sounding letters the first time.
“I knew it.” Gaster shoved the letter and his hand back into his pocket.
“It’s because I’m undecided. I need to see him in person again. If I have second thoughts, I can tell Sans that I’ve just come to tell him in person that he is no longer being considered for the job, and if not, I’ll deliver the letter.”
“Well, at least you’re putting some consideration into this.”
“Quite a bit, in fact.”
“Alright, I trust you.” But Alphys didn’t sound particularly happy about it. “When are you going to deliver it?”
“Hm. I’ve been planning to for a few days, actually, and I just haven’t—“
“Do it today. I’ve already sent the others.”
“Alright, boss.”
“OhforGod’ssake. Stop that.”
“Right away, boss.”
“Gaster!”
“Boss?”
“Doctor. Please stop.”
“Alright, Nerdqueen.”
“That’s better.”
“Is this your street?”
“Yes. Thank you for the ride.” Alphys slide down the tail of Gaster’s coat on the sidewalk, waved and started away. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Of course not. Haha.”
“Seeya tomorrow.”
“Seeya.”
He found a ferry that would take him to Snowdin and sat looking at the address on the letter, which he’d already memorized. He had a feeling that the next few hours would be momentous in some way, but in what way, he had no clue whatever. It was unsettling. Almost as unsettling as memories of sliding through time and space, now that he was again alive in the conventional sense of the word. He flinched and quickly turned his mind to other, earthier objects.

At some point, things no longer had meaning. He knew what it was that mattered to him, but it didn’t resonate. He existed in a state of calm nothingness. Occasionally he slept or ate, but not because he felt that he needed it.
“SANS.”
This was a phase. It’d go away. Maybe.
“SANS?”
Sometimes he felt nothing, and sometimes he felt so very, very sick. Sometimes he thought it’d be more convenient for both of them if he just disappeared, quietly, without a trace. But that was impossible, and he realized that. Paps shouldn’t have to worry about him.
“SANS, YOU NEED TO GET MORE SLEEP. WHAT DO YOU DO AT NIGHT, ANYWAY? YOU DON’T EVEN LEAVE THE COUCH THESE DAYS, DON’T THINK I HAVEN’T NOTICED.”
“S’fine bro.”
What had he been thinking anyway. The sentry job was practically too much for him, and he fulfilled those duties by lying in a pile of snow all day, or at least, for as much time as Papyrus would allow him to. He’d (almost) convinced Paps that his snow lounging was his way of cunningly lying in wait for anything to walk past on the path.
This was it. He was done. Putting in an effort was hard enough even when there was hope, and he’d been struggling to imagine that there still was any for some time now. He was going to spend his days lying in the snow for the rest of his life, and if his health was any indication, it (mercifully) wouldn’t be long. “I’m fine, Paps. Sometimes I’m just too lazy to walk up the stairs. Heh. That’s somethin, isn’t it?” And Paps would tuck him under an arm and move him to his bedroom himself, expressing his disgust at Sans’ lack of motivation. Sans quietly agreed.
“SAAAAAAANS!”
Welp. There were the feelings again. It was some rotten mix of rage, terror and misery, and it propelled him off of the couch and towards the door, eye flaring a sharp blue. Next thing he knew he was crunching through the snow in a random direction.
Odd, he didn’t remember opening the door.
He found a soft-looking drift of snow and let himself fall on his face in it. The world went quiet and everything was white. There. Maybe this was like what it was to die.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but he was disturbed by a small, fluffy dog which dug his head free and danced around him, panting nervously. Evidently it was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Sans rolled onto his back and gave it a halfhearted pet, and it leapt away in high spirits. He sighed. His breath made no fog in the air.
Well this was accomplishing nothing. This was all rather ridiculous, wasn’t it? Sans pushed himself up with a groan and shook the snow out of his hood. He was going to Grillby’s.

A/N: This was going to be part of a longer chapter where more happened but I realized it was going to be very long indeed.

Story spoilers below? Kind of? Maybe?

So, yeah, Gaster’s already been Scattered Across Time and Space in this story. There will be backstory about this! My logic about this is, we’re told several things about Gaster: one, he “fell into his creation,” two, “his experiments went wrong,” and then there’s the above. But. Nobody said these were all the same thing. Heck, all these could be separate mishaps. Maybe Gaster just has literally the worst luck (and if he's in my story that's likely.) Any one of these could be the thing that finally killed/scattered/erased him, (or maybe he’s still around,) and for once, I’m going to go with the scattered thing not being what actually killed him. Boss monsters can take a lot in the name of hope and compassion.

Chapter 5: AnNoyiGn DOg

In which Gaster, to his utter dismay and horror, gets hugged a lot by very friendly monsters.

This looked like the house. It was modestly, but comfortably sized. Two mailboxes stood outside, one polished and neat-looking, the door carefully latched, one with the door hanging open and several uncollected pieces of junk mail inside. One of the support posts was decorated with tasteful wreathes of greenery. The other had—for some obscure reason—a yellow sock hanging from a nail?—and a shriveled-up piece of mistletoe that looked like it had been there for at least a year. How odd. He knocked on the door, half-expecting that no one would be home, but almost immediately he heard running feet. This must be the brother, he thought. He could be wrong, but he just couldn’t imagine Sans running like that. The door flew open and before Gaster could register anything but “tall” and “orange” a form crashed into him.
“SANS!” Gaster made the sound of a skeleton being unexpectedly clasped around the midriff. The other monster released him and stumbled back. “OH EXCUSE ME, I THOUGHT YOU WERE SANS?”
“I… I think we can establish that I am not.”
“OH! WELL! EXCUSE ME! WHO ARE YOU? I AM PAPYRUS, BROTHER OF SANS!”
“Nnns… Nice to meet you, Papyrus.” Hoooo grief. He hadn’t gotten farther than the door and his soul was acting like an injured glowmoth. So this was the brother, then. He was… interesting. He seemed friendly, at any rate. The kind of friendly that made Gaster a nervous wreck, but friendly, still. “I’m looking for Sans—I must guess that he’s not here?”
“OH YES! I HEARD THE DOOR AND I THOUGHT IT WAS HIM BUT NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT THAT WAS SILLY! SANS WOULDN’T KNOCK! WELL, UNLESS HE WAS GOING TO PRANK ME, IN WHICH CASE, HE WOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED! WELL, COME IN! IT’S COLD OUT THERE! I WAS JUST WONDERING SHOULD I GO LOOK FOR HIM? IF HE ISN’T BACK AND YOU’RE NOT HIM, THEN, HMM…” Papyrus finally stopped talking long enough for Gaster to catch his breath. Sans, he’d decided, should be fit for anything if he was able to calmly put up with this level of energy every day. Papyrus was tall—not as tall as Gaster, being an ordinary skeleton, but a good height. And he was bursting with vitality. His bones looked strong and smooth, and his eyeglowing was a constant, vivid orange that left very little black in his eyesockets. Sans, Gaster remembered, had only small white eyelights, which shifted to a blue corona—but only in his left eye—when he used magic. Gaster himself no longer had purple eyelights as his base state: his eyelights were a dim whitish glow, subtle enough that some monsters evidently found it hard to tell which direction he was looking, which must be rather disturbing. Neither of them were in the best of shape, though Gaster, for all his smashed-up-and-messily-healed-back-together fragility, still had significantly more HP than Sans. But it was clear that Papyrus surpassed them both. It was pleasant to see a healthy skeleton, it had been a long time since Gaster had seen any at all besides himself. “NYEH! HEH! WELL, I COULD GO AND FIND HIM, AND BRING HIM BACK WHILE YOU WAIT, OR, YOU COULD COME WITH ME, IN CASE I CAN’T FIND HIM AT FIRST! BUT I’M SURE I WILL! I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE HE’LL BE!”
“I’ll come with you.”
“OH GOODIE! DO YOU WANT ANYTHING FIRST? YOU’VE BEEN OUT IN THE COLD AND—“
“Thank you, no.” He realized that Gaster was also a skeleton, right? Cold didn’t bother him much. Well, it was nice that he cared.
“WELL WHAT DO WE HAVE? NOT MUCH ACTUALLY.” Papyrus glanced in the refrigerator and Gaster could’ve sworn he saw the entire door filled with bottles of ketchup. He blinked in disbelief, but Papryus was rushing back already. “WELL LET’S GET GOING IF YOU’RE SURE!”
“I…yes…alright.”
“THIS WAY!!” Papyrus set off at a sprint. Gaster paused long enough to close the door, which Papyrus seemed to have forgotten, and Papyrus sprinted back for him. Gaster walked down the steps into the snowy street and began walking in the direction Papyrus had been dashing, and Papyrus capered along beside him—for once, Gaster felt as if his preferred powerwalk was too slow rather than too fast. “SO YOU’RE DR. GASTER?”
“I am.”
“ARE YOU A BOSS MONSTER? SANS SAID YOU WERE A BOSS MONSTER! ER, CAN I ASK THAT?”
“Yes, and yes,” Gaster smiled.
“WOWIE! THAT’S SO COOL!”
“It has some perks.” Gaster, adjusting his speed to Papyrus’ eagerness, was nearly jogging by the time they reached Grillby’s. Wait, Grillby’s? Before he could take another look at the sign, they were at the door and Papyrus was flinging it open with unnecessary violence. “SANS! BROTHER! YOU… OH, HE’S NOT HERE?” A very faint, hissing voice answered him. “WELL WHERE IN ALL THE UNDERGROUND COULD HE HAVE GONE, THEN?” Gaster knew that voice. He stepped inside, and there was Grillbz, leaning against the counter and polishing a glass in a contented fashion. He glanced up as Gaster came in, but without apparent recognition.

It had been a long time. He’d never contacted him. He’d moved away, and had been lost in his own mind for some time, and later wasn’t sure how to find Grillbz, or if he wanted to be found—had he intentionally lost contact with Gaster? Or had that been Gaster’s fault, should he try to get in touch? It had been a long time. But, seeing Grilbz, he thought of none of that; only how long it had been and how nice it was to have someone who understood his first language. He snapped his fingers, catching Grillbz’s attention, and gestured a greeting in Wingdings. Grillbz looked at him for a moment without responding. Gaster reeled backwards into uncertainty. Perhaps he didn’t remember.

Grillbz put down the glass, vaulted over the bar, and ran for him.

He hit Gaster like a load of rocks and they went over backwards out the door, landing in a snow poff that had been pushed to the side of the door. There was a hiss of evaporating snow, and Grillbz quickly righted himself, shaking out his flames.
“Oh. You do remember.”
There was a rhythmic snapping which, after a few moments, Gaster recognized as the sound of his own name in Wingdings.  
Gaster! Gaster Gaster Gaster Gaster Gaster!
Hey, friend, Gaster signed back, still draped over the snow poff.
“.where have you been, old fool?” Grillbz pulled him up and Gaster made a faint noise of protest as the weak places in his bones tugged at his magic. Grillbz let go and began signing rapidly.
Gaster! I hadn’t heard from you in so long, I thought you might have dusted! Where have you been hiding?
Waterfall. It’s very quiet. I’m afraid I’ve become a hermit. He paused, at a loss, then went with It’s good to see you. He placed a hand on Grillbz’ shoulder and almost went over backwards again when Grillbz reciprocated.
“Ow. Be gentle.”
“OH, YOU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER!” Said Papyrus. Gaster nodded.
“.understated as ever.” Said Grillbz, giving him a friendly shake. Gaster gritted his teeth in pain and made a mental note to talk to Grillbz about that later.
It had been a long time since he’d been able to converse in Wingdings, and it brought back memories, some from before the Barrier. He’d known Grillbz before being dumped into the Underground and finding him there. More accurately, Grillbz found him. Gaster didn’t talk at first after he’d come back from his ordeal with temporal displacement, and the King and Queen had asked Grillbz to sign to him, hoping it would jog his memories. Gaster still wasn’t sure what exactly had worked, but his first coherent action had been spelling out Grillbz’s full name—he’d memorized it long before in a fit of stubbornness, after being told that he couldn’t do it. Seeing Grillbz brought it all back. It was all real. He was real. Gaster carefully resisted the urge to break down into an emotional mess. He was on a mission. And so was Papyrus.
“THAT’S NICE! WELL, GRILLBY, WE’RE LOOKING FOR MY BROTHER, HAS HE BEEN IN HERE?” Gaster and Grillbz conversed in Wingdings—which looked, to Papyrus, like waving and finger-snapping—then Gaster looked up.
“Sans was here, but he left a while ago.”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?”
“Grillbz told me.”
“WHAT. OH! OHHHHH! YOU SPEAK WINGDINGS!”
“Not speak, exactly, but yes.”
“THAT’S SO COOL! SANS KNOWS WINGDINGS! I DON’T KNOW WHERE HE LEARNED IT, I HAVEN’T LEARNED!”
“Really?”
I taught him a bit, but he already knew the basics, signed Grillbz.
“Interesting.”
“WELL WHERE IS HE?”
Where is he? Gaster watched Grillbz’s hands intently for a while, then looked up. “He went into the woods. Grillbz is a bit worried, actually. He didn’t eat much.”
“SANS? NOT EATING? RIDICULOUS. HE MUST BE HAVING A BAD DAY INDEED!” Gaster wondered if Papyrus was aware of the fact that he was projecting this information to the whole restaurant as well as a good quarter of the small main street through the open door.
“Yes, well—“
“WE MUST FETCH HIM! SULKING IN THE WOODS IS NO GOOD FOR ANYONE! COME ALONG, I KNOW JUST WHERE HE’LL BE!” Papyrus set off at a sprint. A moment later he was back. “OH! THANK YOU GRILLBY!”
If only intent were the same as action, signed Grillbz.
?
I’m not sure how well those two understand each other. But they’re good friends, so does it matter? Ah, tell P he went the other direction, towards the cliffs.
Well. I’ll be sure to come back here, now that I know where you’re set up.
You’d better, or I’ll go searching for your hideout in Waterfall. I miss speaking with my hands.
Me too. Gaster cut the conversation short here. If Papyrus had been a Temmie, he’d have been vibrating, but as it was, he was bouncing up and down in the snow. “Alright, I’m coming.”
“LET’S GO!”
“Wrong direction.”
“WHAT?”
“Grillbz saw him head this way.”
“OH! I SEE! FOLLOW ME!” Again, the half-jog was necessary to keep up. Gaster hadn’t had a workout like this in a while. It was probably good for him. He didn’t like it. “SO, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO TALK TO HIM ABOUT?” Gaster was breathless.
“Uhh. Just. Wanted to uh. Go over some things?”
“HAS HE APOLOGIZED FOR WHAT HE DID? BECAUSE HE’S BEEN FEELING TERRIBLE ABOUT IT THE PAST FEW DAYS. AS HE SHOULD! HE NEVER LOSES HIS TEMPER LIKE THAT! NEVER!”
Well, there was one vote of confidence. Gaster would trust the loud friendly skeleton. “I guessed that.”
“HE’S SO CALM! USUALLY I HAVE TO PRY HIM OFF THE FLOOR WITH A SPATULA, NOT TELL HIM TO CALM DOWN! WHAT HAPPENED?”
“I said something untactful.”
“IT MUST HAVE BEEN TERRIBLE!”
“Er.”
“OH LOOK, THERE HE IS! SAAAAANS! WHAT’S THE VIEW LIKE UP THERE? AH, HE DOESN’T HEAR US.” Gaster looked up. Sans was poised on the very edge of the cliffs, hands shoved in his pockets, looking down over Snowdin. Something about the scene didn’t feel right to Gaster. If he just leaned forwards… that drop would more than kill someone with only one HP. He started running. “OH, YOU LIKE TO RUN TOO! ISN’T IT GREAT? I JUST LOVE RUNNING THROUGH THE SNOW WHERE IT’S DEEP LIKE THIS—“
Gaster’s hands twitched out a few involuntary swears. He kept running, even when there was a muffled splat from behind him as Papyrus lost a boot and flopped into the snow. Back behind the trees, up the slope. There was only one set of footprints. He couldn’t see Sans anymore. Something white flew into his good eye and he blinked. It was snowing.

A/N: Yep we’re just gonna leave it there for now lol

*Annoying Dog dances across screen to the tune of bonus track “Clif hANgerS”

The idea of Wingdings being a type of monster sign language seems to be relatively accepted as a possibility in the fandom. I actually don’t read that many fics, but one of the best I’ve ever read, and the one which inspired my version of Wingdings, is Microwave Grapes by BeaBae, who has accounts on both AO3 and FFN. Her Wingdings is a complex language using both gesture and sound. I really like her Gaster. And her Sans. And the well thought out quality of the whole. Basically, it’s great, it’s better than this and partially responsible for this existing in the first place since it’s what originally inspired me to write for Undertale, so go read it!

EDIT

I have remastered this here chapter. The gist of it is the same, but going through it I… wow. I cannot believe I once inflicted this idiotic cliffhanger upon you guys.

I’ll apologize, but do me a favor. There are people contemplating suicide in the real world, and you probably don’t know who they are, because it’s not really something you talk about. Be kind to people today. And tomorrow. Taking out your frustration on other people has never solved anything. Assume that everyone else has just as many problems as you do and work from there. Thank you.

 

Chapter 6: Goopy Guy Says Hello

In which Gaster has really cool magic

It began to snow. He let the flakes settle on his head and shoulders. The lights of Snowdin, sunk deep in the dark ahead, blurred in and out as snowflakes drifted past. Through the soft sound of settling snow, he thought he heard Papyrus shouting. Maybe he was out looking for him. That was bad. He should go down and tell him that he was alright.

He didn’t want to move. As long as he didn’t move, or think, he didn’t feel anything. He just felt dead. That was a peaceful enough feeling.

What woke him was the sound of running feet in the snow behind him. He’d have to turn around and explain himself. How long had he been out? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t have the energy to come up with an excuse. Maybe he could say he fell asleep on his feet—no, wait, he was right next to a cliff. Didn’t want to scare Papyrus—
Suddenly a wall of purple magic shot up in front of him. Purple, powerful and very much not Papyrus’. He flinched, snow falling into his eyes.
“S t e p b a c k w a r d s.”
He obeyed, shakily, then turned. Gaster was there, panting, left hand outstretched and haloed in purple.
“Gaster?”
“You scared us.” He let the shield fade away. There was a faint sound of cheerful, oblivious Papyrus shouting from somewhere below them. Gaster ran a shattered hand across his skull. “Let me rephrase that. You scared me.”
“What are you doing here?” He knew it. He was going to be arrested. No, wait. It wouldn’t be Gaster in person, in that case, it would be the Royal Guard. Unless the rumors that monster criminals were sent to the Royal Scientist for use in dangerous tests were true, in which case, maybe it would be Gaster in person, although he wasn’t the Royal Scientist. Oh God he was going to die. He looked down at Gaster’s hands, which were twitching. No, wait. Was that Wingdings?
Shitshitshitshit sorry sorry shit forgive please no don’t do that sh
Gaster glanced down, as if realizing what he was doing, and hid his hands in his pockets. The two skeletons looked at each other for a moment. “You first,” said Gaster.
“Huh?”
“What are you doing up here balancing on the extreme edge of the giant cliffs of death? I’ll admit that the view is beautiful, but surely there are safer places to observe from.”
“I was thinking. Or you know. Not thinking. Actually I was just kind of existing, you know? Don’t you ever just need to go somewhere that people won’t bother you?” Gaster cocked his head with a half-nod. “I mean, it’s occurred to me once or twice that I could jump off, heh. But. I mean, I wouldn’t.”
“Good.”
Sans had a couple of seconds to wonder why he was willing to confide in Gaster. Gaster seemed to already know what was going on, which was helpful, and Sans certainly didn’t feel like he had to worry about saving face, since he’d already thrown a tantrum in his office. Things weren’t getting worse. But before Sans could quite figure it out or either of them could say anything else, Papyrus came bounding around a boulder and crashed into Gaster. Papyrus bounced off and sprawled in the snow. Gaster’s left eye gleamed purple and a shield materialized around him. He fell—almost floated—gracefully into the snow, then picked himself up, rather stiffly Sans thought. Maybe he had more cracks than the ones on his face.
“SO SORRY DOCTOR. SANS WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I WAS BEGINNING TO GET WORRIED, AND DR. GASTER WAS LOOKING FOR YOU!”
“Uh, yeah.” Sans looked at Gaster, who appeared to search for something in his pockets, then looked at the ground. A crumpled letter was lying in the snow. Gaster formed a small shield under it and lifted both into his hand.
“WOWIE YOU HAVE TELEKINESIS!”
“Er, it’s not true telekinesis—“
“SANS ALSO HAS TELEKINESIS! IT’S SO COOL!”
“Really?”
“It’s uh, still developing,” said Sans.
“Oh? That’s interesting. Is it still weak?”
“No. Heh. I’ve got kind of the opposite problem, things go up and don’t come down.”
“Really! Then I’ll have to ask you not to practice on any expensive lab equipment.” He stepped forwards and handed Sans the letter.
“Heh, yeah, no problem.” Sans looked at the letter for several moments without comprehension. “Wait, did you just say…”
“WELL?” Papyrus was suddenly leaning over Sans’ shoulder. Sans nudged him away with an elbow and tore the envelope open. It took him a while to absorb exactly what he was reading. “WELL?!”
“What…” Dates, lists of requirements, the address of the lab—like he needed that, he’d already been there—
“SANS!”
“It’s. I’ve been accepted for the job”
“YAAAAAAAAAS!”
Papyrus lifted Sans above his head, and suddenly the shield was back, and Gaster was yelling at Papyrus not to drop him, and Sans was looking upside-down at the snowy ground far below through a film of purple magic and snowflakes, with the letter crumpled in his hand. “What.” Papyrus spun around once and set him down. “The. What?” He chuckled, and looked up at Gaster. “You’re really doing this.” Gaster nodded once. “Holysh—thank you?”
“BROTHER I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!”
“I exploded magic in your office.”
“Yes. Don’t do it again.” Gaster’s mouth twitched. “To be fair I never liked that office.” Sans blinked and looked away. His eyesockets seemed moister than usual.
“WELL! LET’S GET INSIDE, BEFORE WE GET FROZEN IN PLACE! IT’S SNOWING HARDER! DOCTOR, YOU MUST JOIN US!”
“It’s not much,” said Sans, recovering his voice, “Really, it’s not. But you could sit down for a while. One thing we do have is a real comfy couch.”
“I’ve seen it, and yes, I’ll come.”

By the time they reached the house Gaster was glad for the chance to get inside, away from the snow. Walking was like wading through some thick substance and it was impossible to see far in any direction. Far above in the darkness was a thin high keening. The wind was cruel on Mt. Ebott. Gaster imagined the dark green slopes clouded in an icy haze, and above them the bare cliffs, battered with freezing wind and ice; higher still, a wilderness of cold and white, and above all, hanging forever in that high final dark beyond them all, the stars.

The undecorated support post loomed suddenly in front of him and he ran face first into it.

He’d done it again.

Ahead, there was a sudden blaze of yellow light silhouetting a tall form that beckoned him forwards. He shook off as much snow as he could before stepping inside. The living room looked a bit neater than he remembered, and he could have sworn that a small bundle of clutter, wreathed in light blue magic, flung itself into one of the second-floor rooms and slammed the door after itself while Sans watched intently from the living room.
“WELL! THINGS ARE GETTING EXTREME OUT THERE! CAN I OFFER YOU SOMETHING DOCTOR?”
“I’m still alright—“
“WAIT WE PROBABLY… SANS WHAT DO WE…”
“I dunno, I never go in the kitchen.”
“YES YOU DO BROTHER!”
“Do you have tea?” asked Gaster, thinking it would calm Papyrus down. Papyrus had his head inside a cabinet and didn’t seem to hear.
“No, actually,” said Sans. “I don’t think Papyrus has ever stood still for long enough to appreciate something that takes several minutes of steeping before you can drink it. And I mainly just drink ketchup, you don’t have to heat up water for it.”
“Ketchup?” So he hadn’t imagined all those bottles of ketchup.
“Yeah, ketchup. One thing I like about being a skeleton is that I can eat just about anything.”
“Yes. Well. Perhaps there’s a reason you’re stunted.” No. Stop. He shouldn’t have said that, it was inconsiderate. But no, Sans was laughing. Good.
“Could be, but, nah. I did everything right up until a little while ago.”
Now what could that mean? But he didn’t seem interested in explaining it.
“HEY WE STILL HAVE SOME OF THOSE CHEESE THINGS! BUT ER, I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME.”
“He’s going to feed you now,” said Sans to Gaster. “I hope you don’t mind. Bro’s great like that.”
“No, I don’t mind. Who objects to free food?” Sans’ grin widened.
“True.” Gaster clicked.
Good that he’s happy for you.
?
You know Wingdings?
Slightly. Who said?
Grillbz.
Haha. What else?
He said you’re a good guy, but that you’ve been quiet lately.
.
Yeah?
Yeah.
“DR. GASTER, ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO CHEESE, BREAD, OR TRACES OF ANCHOVY AND OR ELEMENTAL MAGIC?” said Papyrus, reading the back of a package.
“…No.”
“AH! GOOD! MAYBE IT WON’T EXPLODE THIS TIME.”
Dr. Gaster decided he was needed in the kitchen. “Why would cheese breads explode?”
“I DON’T KNOW.”
“Magic,” said Sans.
“INDEED! THE STOVE IS ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES. I USE FIRE MAGIC!” Papyrus pointed to a black blast hole in the counter. There were several that had gone right through.
“There?”
“YES.”
“Hmm, nice.” It’s not supposed to do that, Gaster’s hands said. Sans made an odd noise. Gaster remembered his hands and stuffed them into his pockets. “I’m decent with fire magic.”
“REALLY?”
Well, I don’t cause explosions by heating up precooked foods, and I don’t have blast holes in my counter, so that would be a yes? Gaster nodded. “Can I help?”
“OH PLEASE DO!”
One disaster averted, then.

Gaster said that fire magic didn’t come naturally to him, but he seemed to have a good grasp of it. More than that, he was fascinated by it. After helping Papyrus set up, he went into a talk about the nature of fire magic, single eyelight gleaming a little brighter, hands fidgeting gently. Sans watched his hands curiously. It wasn’t Wingdings—he traced them back and forth in the air, gently, vaguely, as if recalling someone else’s attack motions.
The lights went out. Gaster produced a small tuft of white flame.
“OH NO! GOOD THING WE’RE USING FIRE MAGIC AFTER ALL.”
“I’ll go see it it’s the whole town,” said Sans, walking to the door.

He stepped out into pitch black darkness. That wasn’t right. It didn’t surprise him that Snowdin had been hit with yet another blackout—the need for Dr. Gaster’s proposed CORE was no joke. But the snow was faintly phosphorescent, and he should be able to see something.

The blackness in front of his face was dense, glutinous, and moving goopily in the general direction of central Snowdin. It growled with a sound like an immense engine coughing at the bottom of a pit.

Sans leapt backwards into the house, yanking the door shut after him. “Crawler.”
“WHAT?”
“Big. Big one. Call it in.”
Papyrus plunged across the living room and picked up the phone on the coffee table, lighting his way with his eyes. Sans glowed his left eye, and Gaster joined them, still holding the flicker of fire. “DOGAMY! YES, GREETINGS, IT IS PAPRYUS! A CRAWLER JUST OOZED PAST OUR HOUSE. YES, BIG. HOW BIG, SANS?”
Sans was at the window. “Er… very. It’s still oozing past our house. I think it ate the transformer.” Papyrus relayed the information. Sans pressed his face against the window. “It, uh… It’s hard to tell, but I think the front end is about half a block from Grillby’s, now, and… the back end is just passing us.” Papyrus relayed the information, bouncing excitedly in place. As the presence passed them, the darkness lifted, and the phosphorescence of the snow was again visible. Gaster let his flame die out.
“INDEED I WILL! PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE IS ANYTHING OF A HELPFUL AND SENTRY NATURE I CAN DO! …STAY INSIDE?” Papyrus visibly drooped. “YES SIR!” Sans left the window and sank into the couch. He looked at Gaster and frowned. “ALRIGHT, I’LL BE RIGHT HERE, IN MY—“ he yanked the phone away and glared at it. It was giving him a dialtone.
“He has to get the information out.”
“OH! RIGHT.”
“Our phone will probably be ringing in a minute,” said Sans, looking at Gaster. “It’s really not as big a deal as we make it. Just procedure. We get one of these things gooping through every week, seems like. There’s just enough light to make them curious and not enough to keep them away.”
Papyrus turned and looked at Gaster, who was standing very still with his hands clenched at his chest. They were trembling. “OH.” He took Gaster’s hands, careful not to put his fingers through the holes where the palms should be. “SANS IS RIGHT, IT’S REALLY NOT DANGEROUS. WELL I MEAN IT IS TERRIBLY DANGEROUS BUT WE’RE USED TO IT AND USUALLY NOTHING HAPPENS AND ALSO IT’S PASSED US ALREADY SO THIS HOUSE SHOULD BE FINE.”
“I know,” said Gaster quietly. “I just… don’t like waiting.”

Fires burning all night long in the distance, and when the sun rose, instead of mist, dust clouded the horizon.

“You know, waiting in the dark.”

They were gone. All. All at once, and he hadn’t been there.

“Just… waiting for something to happen?”

He’d promised to stay away. He never should have made that promise. He should have been there.

“I’m alright. Thank you.”

For a few terrible days, he’d thought he was the only one, the last monster wandering a wasteland of dust.

He clasped Papyrus’ hands. Papyrus shook them reassuringly, looking down at the shattered bones. “ER. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN, IF YOU DON’T MIND MY ASKING?”
Gaster smiled. “I was holding a soul and it blew up in my face.”
“WHAT!?” Sans sat up a little straighter. Papyrus was gaping. Well, now he had to tell the story. You didn’t just say something like that and then leave it. Gaster sighed.
“If we’re going to be waiting in the dark, I might as well tell a scary story.”
“OH PLEASE!” Papyrus bounced excitedly. Sans scooted over and patted a free section of the couch. Gaster sat.

He needed to distract himself anyway.

A/N: so this last chapter got a lot of reviews/comments, which made me happy, even though some of them were like “oh noes cliffhangers r evil,” because I knew I was going to resolve said cliffhanger as soon as I could get the next chapter up and in the meantime I was just happy that people were invested in the characters. But, funny story.

Friday night, Convenient Alias and I were up late writing together, and it’s like two in the morning, and I notice what was I think my first review for that chapter on FFN. Review goes like so:

Oh snap, things be going down in the underground
(from: I guest as much)

And I’m like, oh cool a review, that’s nice, and I go on with what I was doing for several moments until
WAIT
HOLD UP
“Things be going down” THAT WAS A DARK HUMOR PUN ABOUT SANS AND I ALMOST MISSED IT
AAAAAAAA IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL
Actually I don’t even know if that pun was intentional, but whether it was or not, it made me very happy at two in the morning on a stressful weekend so thank you.
Edit: totally intentional, that just makes it so much better. 

Chapter 7: Storytime

In which the malfunctioning of a common kitchen appliance contaminates this area with toaster fumes. The malfunction is minor, but if you are allergic to toaster fumes, you may wish to remove yourself from this fanfiction forthwith.

The Captain was still alive, and so was Gaster. This fight didn’t look to be ending anytime soon. Gaster was reeling on his feet and releasing a cloud of dust with every movement, but the Captain’s shield was shattered almost in pieces and his face glittered with red liquid. There were more humans now, even a few who were able to land hits, but that was only a minor distraction. Gaster knew by now that he was going to die. He intended to take the Captain down with him.

One human, however, didn’t go down, and he was forced to hack it away from him repeatedly. It was a large one with a hammer. It had an infuriating way of getting between him and the Captain.

Distantly, vacantly, a part of him recognized that in other circumstances he would respect this human’s devotion and effort.

The humans had been shouting at each other for a while now. “Just shove him into the barrier!” was repeated several times, and always the Captain shouted “No!” Gaster saw his own frenzy in that human’s eyes. Neither was going to stop this until the other was dead.

It was the human with the hammer who made it stop, by landing a glancing blow across Gaster’s ribcage that lifted him off his feet. He flew backwards against the wall, which seemed to have an odd texture, and to give beneath his spine. A cloud of dust hung in the air where he had stood, and he felt his overtaxed body disintegrating around his soul.
Fuck. He was dying. Not yet not yet not yet—
He couldn’t move? The human with the hammer was holding the Captain back. There was an odd white glow around Gaster’s peripheral vision, and he realized that he was being pulled, slowly but steadily, backwards. He’d touched the barrier.

He screamed, and lashed out wildly, but then he was pulled in, and he saw his final attack rebounding from the cave walls like indigo lightning, not connecting with anything. His body was numb.

...

...........

Well. This was certainly annoying. He was in the middle of dying but he wasn’t allowed to finish because he was traversing the Barrier, which put him in stasis.

Finally he felt the numbing pressure of the Barrier fading away from his back, then his arms, then suddenly he was free and falling and he finished the scream he’d never finished. He heard his bones crash on hard stone. New dust swirled up. Some that had traversed the Barrier with him was trailing down from its flat, shining surface.
“Oh my GOD!”
…just his luck. Had he fallen into someone’s picnic? He couldn’t even die right… the thought amused him. Somewhere, immensely far away and yet close, there was a green flicker of monster healing magic. It did nothing. He wasn’t quite dead yet—there was a lot of him, and he seemed to be going slowly. So he got to lay there and listen to several voices panicking over his appearance. It’s fine, he wanted to say. Just back off a bit, you don’t want to be too close when my soul breaks. No, really, you can’t do anything. Stop.
“Run, see if Toriel’s still out there. Hang in there, mister.” Nope nope. Sorry. Not hanging in there. “—Toriel? Thank goodness we were about to—get over here!”
He was sliding into a blurry unconsciousness when his body was suddenly clasped in powerful magic. He jolted awake. “Look at me.” He blinked. The speaker was large and white, he got that much. Everything else looked very dark. He couldn’t bring any of it into focus. “You’re not going to die.” ….yes he was. But suddenly everything was hazed in green, more healing magic than he’d ever seen expended at once, even when four medics were working over a downed griffon on the edge of battle. Suddenly his body was in less of a hurry to die. But it was still heading that way, or would have been if he weren’t held together with the white monster’s magic. “Look at me, skeleton. You are not allowed to die.” Alright, lady. Just for you. I’ll hang around for a while. He was never sure how long they had stayed there, himself barely stabilized, the white monster keeping him so with all her strength. Finally another, even larger white form moved into his peripheral vision and asked something that he couldn’t make out. “Asgore, help me.” The new figure sounded confused. “Heal him! I can’t maintain this.” Asgore kept sputtering protests, but then somehow, somehow, Gaster was wrapped in a blaze of green, green like a whole forest coming out in new leaves, green like the ocean when it rains cold, green like life. And Gaster’s body felt like it belonged to him again. It was badly shattered, but it wasn’t trying to dissolve. The green faded, and he watched it retreat sadly. And there was his savior, suddenly in focus, a huge monster with white fur and compassionate eyes.
Eyes that at the moment looked rather blank.
“Tori?” said Asgore. Tori toppled forwards. Asgore caught her a moment before she could crush Gaster, who, now that the healing magic was gone, was beginning to drift into unconsciousness. He struggled to keep awake for another moment and caught a final glimpse of Asgore cradling Tori in one arm and reaching for him with the other, looking overwhelmed.

He didn’t tell them all that, of course.
“I was… pretty beat up when I came through the Barrier. The King and Queen healed me, but it was still a long time before I was well.” He’d been unconscious for days, and it was a week before he began to be fully aware of his surroundings again. “I was still recovering when…” well, that was a long story, too.

As soon as he was well enough to talk, the rest of the surviving boss monsters gathered around his bed for a meeting. Gaster felt an uncomfortably macabre centerpiece. The others turned out to be only three: Toriel and Asgore sat on his left side, where he could easily see them with his good eye, and there was also a huge mantis monster. He’d heard stories about this one from the war.
Most of it was catching Gaster up on the state of the Underground—what they’d started calling the cave system where they were trapped. As far as they knew, they were the only surviving boss monsters, and it was natural that the other monsters would look to them for direction. Asgore suggested sharing leadership. The mantis monster said rather tetchily that most of the monsters were already calling Asgore and Toriel their King and Queen, and that if they just went ahead and had themselves instated, it would give him, Kchliteu, less responsibility to bother with. Asgore laughed. “If you’d prefer that…”
“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t been planning this.” Asgore looked surprised.
“Planning?”
“We haven’t,” said Toriel, squeezing Asgore’s paw. Gaster watched. He’d been subtly offput to discover that the two of them were married. Only very subtly. They made a good couple. He was happy for them. And he wasn’t even close to the right species. Kchliteu popped his mandibles crossly.
“Very well. I care not. But what do you plan to do about this Barrier?”
“Er? I… First of all, I think we need to settle down, make sure the monsters are as comfortable as possible. Right now that means moving away from the Barrier.”
“Away. You’re not going to keep trying to break it?”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to stop that. We are no match for the humans.”
“Humans are shit at magic.” Asgore raised his eyebrows.
“I’m afraid not, when they’ve stolen enough EXP from us. It seems humans can do everything better.” He laughed. “Well, we’re still alive—“
“If we all attack it together it must fall! We’re boss monsters!”
“But still monsters, Ktch—Kl—I’m sorry, I still can’t—“
“Just call me Chi.”
“Chi. I—“
“You will make no further attempt on the Barrier?”
“Not at present. No. There would be no point, anyway.” Chi got up and left the room, hissing and muttering to himself. Asgore sighed. “I don’t think he wants to admit that we lost the war.” Toriel looked sadly at him and stood.
“Well. Now he’s gone, we can catch up on some other things.” She gently turned down the collar of Gaster’s shirt, displaying his collarbone. “Have you thought about this?” Gaster cocked his head, looking down at the bone. It had been badly fractured at some point in the fight, and had healed with a sizable gap between the two ends of bone. He wasn’t sure if he’d lost the piece on the opposite side of the Barrier, or if he’d lost so much dust from that area that the bone had began to disintegrate and his body was unable to repair the damage. In any case, the mess had been wrapped in a simple bandage while he was unconscious, and a connection of purple magic had fixed the two ends of bone. “This is shield magic,” said Toriel, looking closely at the connection. “Interesting. You’ll have to get rid of it if we’re going to put in a permanent splint.”
“I’d rather not, actually.”
“Hmm. This may be stable enough by itself… of course, Marsha wants me to tell you that it’s not nearly as safe as putting in a real splint. She was thinking of fixing the ends together with a rod of some sort, steel, or some other material. And there’s always the chance of your magic failing. Although, once this stabilizes, not very much, unless you overtax yourself greatly, like I did.” She smiled.
“Saving me, you mean.”
“Yes. Everything else… well, you’ll heal eventually.” Gaster didn’t need to be told that he was covered with cracks. Moving was still difficult, but since discovering the magic connection at his collarbone and consciously strengthening it, he could move both of his arms again. He still hadn’t opened his right eye without help. Marsha, one of the healers, had pried it open a few times and poked around in his eyesocket, which was unnerving and had accomplished exactly nothing. He was almost completely blind on that side. He could still see magic, and very bright lights—which, as it turned out, were generally one and the same in the Underground. “Can you smile for me?” said Toriel, smiling herself. That was easy. Gaster beamed up at her.
“…What?”
“Oh, nothing.” Her smile had faltered. “The smirk looks good on you.”
“Why am I smirking?”
“Hmm… this would be easier with a mirror… wait a moment.” Toriel went out into the hallway and he heard her talking to several passing monsters before she came back with a young, very fluffy grey rabbit monster, who hopped onto the side of his bed and produced a shiny illusion in the air.
“Oh, look at that! That’s something,” said Gaster, smiling. Smirking? The rabbit giggled nervously.
“I learned how to do it in my teens. I like to be sure my fur looks OK.”
“It would be hard to imagine your fur looking not OK,” said Gaster, and she went into quiet, pleased hysterics, which jiggled the magic mirror. But Gaster had already noticed that the right side of his face wasn’t moving with the left when he spoke. He smiled as wide as he could.
….Yikes.
“You may regain movement with time,” said Toriel, seeing his expression. Gaster nodded and experimented with moving his face. Well, he’d always been unusually expressive for a skeleton, he could afford to tone it down a bit. “Can you feel that?” asked Toriel, cupping the dead side of his face in one paw. He caught a glimpse of green magic, and there was a numb sensation of warmth.
“No.” sadly.
“Well.” She nuzzled the top of his skull, and his soul fluttered wildly, making him glad that he was wearing a thick shirt. Stop that. “Rest up. It may heal, or it may not.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes obediently and basked in a feeling of wellbeing as the other monsters left.

A/N: I have decided to nanowrimo with this story and this may be awesome or it may be the worst idea ever, but hey, it will definitely be fun. So expect a lot of updates. I might cut down on output if I notice quality declining though. We'll have to see.

Chapter 8: SOULS!

Summary:

In which there is mad science and for once it's not Gaster doing it.

 

 

A few days had passed, and Gaster could sit up and was using his hands almost normally. He still slept a lot. He was lying half-asleep when Chi walked in without knocking. Gaster blinked at him, taking a few moments to remember who he was. “Oh hello.” Chi made a rasping sound. “…Chi? It’s Chi, right?”
“Yes.” He collapsed over the side of a chair. He was trembling. Gaster, now fully awake, realized that the room was charged with magic.
“Chi, are you alright?”
“You know. How the strongest monsters are made.” Gaster blinked. “They take human souls.”
“…” Gaster was suddenly glad that Chi had been thrown into the Underground before he’d had a chance to try it for himself.
“But, sadly, we have no humans.”
“Er, yes. That is a problem.” Gaster fidgeted, rubbing his finger bones together. It occurred to him that it was night—at least, as much as there was a night in the Underground. He was still getting used to the lack of light change. But the hallways were very quiet, and had been for a while, now that he thought of it. He was getting more uncomfortable by the second.
“If we combined two boss monster souls, it should be enough to break the barrier.”
Okay now he felt extremely uncomfortable. “Maybe? I doubt it. That’s not possible, anyway.”
“It is. Anything’s possible if you try hard enough.”
“I disagree with that and what are you doing?” Chi manifested his soul, watching him.
Gaster stopped breathing and stared. Things were about to go very, very wrong.

“BUT WHAT WAS WRONG WITH IT?”
“It was… well, an ordinary enough soul, at first glance; boss monster souls can be quite large, though his was grotesquely so…”
“YES?” pause. “I MEAN, YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL US.”
“I’m just trying to think of how I should. It had a dark halo and was stained almost black with LV—normal, for a monster who’d been in the war. That wasn’t it, I had seen what EXP did. I’d—“ earlier that day, he’d noticed the shadow around his own soul for the first time. He’d been sleeping off the shock when Chi came in. “It was hollow. That was what was wrong.”
“HOLLOW?”
Gaster nodded. “Stretched out and empty in the middle. I still can’t think how he did it, but it must have been excruciating.”
“…THAT IS NOT NORMAL.”
“Nope.”

“What. Is that.” Chi only laughed in response. “No, how are you alive?”
“I was determined.” Said Chi. The loose magic in the room was snapping in tiny electrical charges in the air.
“Chi. Calm down, you’re going to burn out, and that—that thing—can you fix it?”
“I can take your soul...”
“How about no? How about you just, just um… you can fix it, can’t you?”
Chi chattered more rapidly. Gaster’s hands had begun signing nervous gibberish. “No. No, and I don’t know how long I will last like this, alone…” True, he couldn’t possibly survive in that state. Not for long.  He seemed unable even to control his magic. “But that’s not a problem. I have you.” He grinned, gesturing down at Gaster. “You’re useless anyway, now, except for your soul. I’ll take that. You go ahead and finish dying. We don’t need to take care of a bedridden skeleton.” Before Gaster could manifest his shield his hands were pinned to the bed with magic.
“Oh, no no no no no no NO! No no no”
“Shut up.” Chi pinned his mouth shut with one of his claws and seemed momentarily taken aback when the shouting didn’t stop. “How are you… Tsk. Skeletons are weird.” He pulled Gaster’s shirt up and hungrily eyed the glow of his soul, visible through his ribs. Gaster tried to bite him. “Hmm, not bad. You’ve got some LV after all. And they said you were a pacifist.” Gaster succeeded in biting him. Chi looked down and snickered. “That tickles.” Gaster bit harder. “Gaster. You realize you don’t have teeth, yes?” Now that was downright insulting. He had teeth! They weren’t very sharp or very prominent, but he had teeth! He growled faintly and continued gnawing on Chi’s claw. “Alright, whatever makes you happy.” Chi traced his free claw down Gaster’s sternum and tugged with his magic at Gaster’s soul. Gaster resisted with all the strength of panic. Chi tugged again, and again, breath rattling his exoskeleton. A faint shield appeared, wrapping around Gaster’s ribs. Shield magic had always come naturally to him, though he had less control over it with his hands immobilized. Chi began clicking with irritation. “Stop it.” Gaster snarled. “Just give me your soul!” He kept tugging. His grip was weakening. Gaster’s soul ached, but refused to move. He kept biting down, and there was a faint pop. He’d succeeded in denting Chi’s exoskeleton. Chi shook himself free with a hiss and backed away. He was trembling. The magic he’d bled into the room had reached a desperate pitch. “Alright, alright. I don’t want your soul anyway. I’ll find a better one. You’ve taught me something, though, and I’ll remember it.” He chuckled. “Next time, don’t tell someone you’re going to take their soul. Just take it. Can’t believe how stupid I am.” He gave a shuddering sigh. “Die properly this time, will you?” a rain of bullets crashed into the bed. Several hit close to Gaster’s soul, but to his surprise, the makeshift shield held. He still had the magic rush that kicked in from panic. Or maybe it was the EXP. He tried not to think about that.
Suddenly his hands were free. The bullets stopped, and Chi shuffled from the room. Gaster lay for several seconds without moving. Had he really left? He was distracted, perhaps too much to think about checking Gaster’s HP? Or he didn’t consider him a threat. That was more likely. Gaster shakily lifted his hands and flexed the fingers. He wasn’t badly hurt. Skeletons were hard to score hits on, especially with small bullets like the ones Chi had used, and most of them had gone right through him without taking off any HP. Those that had landed had packed a punch, however. Several almost-healed cracks had opened up again. Gaster lay back, arms wrapped around his chest, and focused on slowing his breathing. He’d manifested a strong shield around the bed without realizing it. He slid a hand under his shirt and felt the warm pulse of his soul, right where it should be, and closed his eyes in relief. Calm. Calm. Now what? Surely someone would notice the obviously deranged monster wandering around and… well… do something? Maybe? Or not. For one thing, it was the middle of the (Underground) night, and for another, even if Chi were noticed, he was a boss monster. The Dreemurrs could handle him between them, he thought, even if Chi were desperate, but how could he reach them?

…The Dreemurrs. Chi had said he was going to find a better soul. They were the only other boss monsters in the Underground.

Toriel.

He was out of bed before he had time to question whether he could do it, and for an exhilarating moment, standing; then he was on the floor, pain breaking over his body. He lay for a moment, soul pounding wildly, taking stock of his injuries. Then, he flared his magic, wrapping it around himself, forcing his bones into motion. He got himself up on his elbows. Then his knees. Then he pulled himself up with a table. He was standing. It took an abnormally high amount of magic to keep him steady on his feet and he could feel each of the cracks that hadn’t healed. Blankly, he reached for his coat, put it on, and walked to the door, hand on the wall in case he lost his balance. He didn’t. He opened the door, then leaned on the doorframe to get his bearings. He hadn’t been outside the hospital at all, at least not while conscious, but Toriel had given him a good idea of what lay outside. He just had to get to their house… Chi would already be there. But maybe not, maybe not. Maybe he was delayed. Gaster started walking, focusing on the motion, keeping himself together, keeping himself upright.

He made it most of the way down the hallway to the wall before realizing that the door was the opposite direction.

“AAGH! HOW INFURIATING!”
“I have… done that more than once. And usually with less excuse.”
“THEN WHAT HAPPENED?”
“…I turned around.” Gaster snorted. “I wasn’t making very good time, for reasons which should be clear.”

He shouldn’t be moving. His body was screaming for him to lie down. But for now, the rush of panic magic was compensating, and he kept going. He pushed the door open enough to slip outside and stopped for a moment, breathless, both from exertion and wonder. He was in an immense cave, the roof spangled with shining stones, almost—but not quite—like stars.

Into the street. Which direction? He paused to orient himself. Perhaps he should start banging on doors, ask for help. But he didn’t trust himself to be vocally coherent at the moment and not many monsters could understand Wingdings. As he looked around, he caught a flash of gold and gasped in relief. That was it. Toriel had said that their house was nearby, but he hadn’t expected it to be this close. He recognized those flowers, there were some sitting in a vase in his room. He tried to start walking and nearly fell on his face. No. Walk. He felt his feet under him.

The house seemed quiet. Was he overreacting? Maybe Chi had given up. He didn’t think so.

“IS SOMETHING TERRIBLE GOING TO HAPPEN NOW?”
“Your perspicacity astonishes me, Papyrus."

As he got closer he heard voices. Toriel and Chi, he thought, talking.
“Night gardening, of course. Why not?” The light flickered. He caught a glimpse of Toriel with her back to him, adjusting a crystal to throw more light over the flowers. Chi said something he didn’t catch. “Well yes, but I could wake him up if you need to talk to him.”
“Don’t bother, I’ll do it myself. No need making him annoyed with more than one person at once.” He could see Chi now, a hulking shape in the darkness beyond the flowers. Did he want Asgore’s soul? Maybe Asgore had LV and Toriel didn’t.
“Oh, it’s no problem.” Toriel sat back, looking up at Chi. “But I tell you what, how about I make some tea? You look like you could use some.”
“That would be nice.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“In time.”
“Suit yourself.” Toriel rose and dusted herself off with a sigh. Gaster tried to shout at her. He’d lost his voice. Of course. He struggled for a few seconds and then in desperation snapped his fingers. Toriel didn’t notice, but Chi did. Even at that distance Gaster could see the panic in his eyes. Magic burst out of the ground and Gaster flung up his shield, lost his balance, and crashed into the flowers. Toriel looked up.
“Gaster?”
Gaster was lying in a rain of pollen and golden petals. He sneezed. “Hhh. Hi.” Hi? Oh, great, that was very helpful. Toriel started forwards, frowning.
“Gaster, what are you doing here?”
“DON’T turn your back on him!” his voice was cracked, but it carried. Toriel halted, confused, and behind her, Chi still seemed to be in shock. Then the door of the house opened.
“Tori, what’s—“ Chi lunged forward in a panic and there was a flash of white magic. Gaster forced himself up, hissing, and immediately flopped forwards again into the flowers. “Toriel!” Asgore rushed forward. Gaster flared his magic, forced himself up, and stumbled forwards, finally falling to hands and knees opposite Asgore.

Toriel and Chi lay tangled together. Neither was moving.

 

A/N: several of you at least knew right off that Chi was the bad guy mentioned earlier. It was pretty obvious. But good job.
Convenient Alias tells me that there is, at least on AO3, a less annoying way to format these author notes. Blasphemy! If I were to do that, you wouldn’t have my unsolicited opinions on things unrelated to the story thrown in your face every time you scrolled down!

Chapter 9: Thread

In which things get really trippy in the Underground and America.

Gaster whined.
“Gaster. What happened?”
“I… d…. Sss…” he pointed to Chi. Asgore looked blankly at the motionless insectoid and back. “He’s… crazy.”
“Well, we knew that.”
“He. Tried to. Absorb my soul.”
“What? That can’t be done.” Gaster made ‘ya think?’ gestures. Asgore looked down at the two bodies. “Should we separate them?”
“I don’t… know…” There was no telling what Chi had done, or even what he’d been trying to do. His magic was out of control and he was desperate.

Shhhhhhhh.

Chi’s body crumbled to dust and Toriel, no longer supported, rolled onto her back. Asgore sighed.
“Well, whatever he was trying to do, it didn’t work.” Toriel shivered and blinked.
“A… Asgore?”
“Toriel.” He cupped her head in his hands. She blinked, seeming disoriented for a moment.
“Asgore.” Asgore tensed. A soul hung above the crushed flowers.

It took Gaster a moment to register what he was seeing. Small, smaller at least, and white, with a warm, radiating light. Toriel noticed it and cringed away.
“G-get that—thing—away!” Asgore summoned his spear and Gaster, recovering, pulled the soul towards him with a shield.
“Wait.” Asgore looked impatiently at him, but lowered his arm. He wasn’t bloodthirsty.
“What?”
“No no no, kill it!” shouted Toriel. Gaster looked at her.
“Chi. I saw your soul and this isn’t it.”
There was a moment of awkward silence. “Wait what?” said Asgore. Then Toriel attacked—not with her usual fire magic, but with small, powerful bullets like Chi had used not long before, knocking Gaster backwards. He clung to the shield around the soul, keeping it solid. The magic stopped, Asgore had Toriel’s hands and was shouting something. Gaster saw the soul leave the shield and race back towards them. Toriel saw it at the last moment and gave a little shriek, then went limp in Asgore’s arms. “Toriel. Toriel?... Gaster. Oh dear. Are you alright?” Gaster turned his head. Dark ectoplasm was leaking from his mouth and the cracks in his skull.
“Yes. That… is surprising.” He smiled weakly. “And I’ve… talking again. Ha.” The light changed, and there was a large, stained soul hovering near Toriel’s ribcage. It hesitated, as though confused, then started to move back towards her. Gaster pulled it away with a shield and trapped it between his hands. “Oh no you don’t.” Almost immediately he questioned this choice, as pure magical energy licked through his finger bones. He wrapped his hands in his shield. “Aah. Asgore. What… should I, uh…” Toriel was semiconscious, Asgore was talking to her. “Asgore?” Gaster was suddenly flooded with raw energy. He didn’t like it. He was up on his knees, hands clasped frantically around the soul, which was struggling to escape. He thought. Or was it just lashing out at him? At this point he was afraid of dropping his shield for long enough to let it go—it was taking everything he had to keep it contained. Not that he trusted it enough to turn it loose anyway.
“There you are,” he heard Asgore say, and realized that Toriel was awake. Good. He was hunched over his hands, wrapped up in the battle with Chi’s soul.

It ended with an explosion. His shield and his bones broke at the same time and light spilled out through his hands. Then it was gone. And something odd happened: he felt himself falling, and he felt Asgore catch him, and his body stop. But he kept falling, as if there was nothing to stop him, and then everything was a confusion of incomprehensible sounds and dark forms whizzing past, faster and faster.

They asked him what it was like. Monsters usually asked what it was like, which was one of the reasons he didn’t tell the story often, because it made him think about it, and that wasn’t pleasant. Time was no longer an object, and space behaved strangely. His memories were disconnected scenes as if from a dream. When he thought about it, he seemed to fall out of time again, and all at once, he was walking through a human city, looking up at the stars; he was on a bare hill facing the north wind; he was exploring caves lit with an orange magma glow, even deeper than the Underground; and he was waking up on a green couch with another skeleton grinning down at him. And that last one stuck.

This had to be a memory. No, it wasn’t. The lights and the crawlers had both still been out the night before and he’d ended up sleeping on the brothers’ couch. “HELLO!” said Papyrus.
“Hello.”
“GLAD YOU’RE UP! SANS IS STILL ASLEEP, BUT HE SPENDS FAR TOO MUCH TIME SLEEPING.” Gaster glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was five in the morning.
“Um.”
“I’VE BEEN LOOKING AT THE DOTS ON YOUR COAT AND MEANING TO ASK YOU, WHY ARE THEY UNEVEN?” Gaster looked down.
“Oh. They’re not dots—well, technically, they are dots. But they’re supposed to be stars.” He sat up and wriggled out of his coat, spreading it across his lap to better display the lining. “I like stars. These are the constellations that were in the sky when I was born, or as many as would fit.”
“OH WOWIE! SANS SAID THE STARS MOVE ON THE SURFACE.”
“Well, the stars don’t move really, the earth moves. It’s all very curious.”
“SO WHO MADE IT LIKE THAT?”
“I did. It was a fun project.”
“OOOH! YOU CAN USE THREAD MAGIC?”
“Conveniently, yes. It would be hard to find clothing otherwise. If someone has to make it especially for me, I might as well do it myself, and I might as well put stars on everything.”
“THAT’S SO COOL! HOW DOES IT WORK? I DON’T KNOW ANYONE WHO CAN DO THAT!”
“You probably do, though they might not mention it. It’s not hard.” Gaster pinched together two corners of his coat with a loose stitch, then pulled them apart. Papyrus gazed in admiration. Gaster chuckled. “Do you have a rag we could work with? I could try teaching you.”

Sans woke up on his own mattress. This was mildly disorienting, given that he’d spent the last several nights on the couch. That’s right, Gaster had taken the couch, thus forcing him to actually go upstairs and use his mattress, which was not a bad thing. What had woken him? It was still early by his standards. Oh, that was it. Noises from downstairs. Papyrus and Gaster, and they sounded excited about something. He lay listening for a while. It made him think about things that he hadn’t thought of in years. The house was usually quiet when he woke up these days, unless Papyrus was loudly cooking something, or unless what woke him in the first place was Papyrus beating on the door because he’d overslept. When he was very young he’d wake to the quiet sounds of life already in session; his parents moving about, plates clattering, someone talking to Papyrus and Papyrus babbling back. He’d get out of bed faster on the days that there was a smell of bacon. Bacon. When had they last had that? He and Papyrus both had a tendency to burn it, and lately he’d given up trying. So had Papyrus, after starting an explosive grease fire one Saturday morning.

Sans got up, stretched, and padded outside and to the bannister. Below him was an interesting sight. Gaster and Papyrus were sitting on the floor of the living room, surrounded by shreds of cloth. Papyrus was holding a tablecloth with a scary number of holes in it. Gaster was in hysterics, and Papyrus was laughing because he was laughing. Papyrus asked something and Gaster shook his head and reached out to guide his hands. “IS THAT IT? OH I’VE GOT IT THIS TIME—“ magic sparked and another hole appeared. “OH. I HAVEN’T GOT IT. WAIT, I CAN FIGURE IT OUT! I CAN FIGURE IT OUT!”
“Sure you can,” choked Gaster, covering his face in his hands and shaking. Papyrus frowned, running the fabric through his fingers. Sans leaned on the bannister, watching quietly. What on earth were they doing? Papyrus appeared to have gone through most of their dishrags, but he didn’t mind. He was obviously having a good time.
“YESSS! THE GREAT PAPYRUS TRIUMPHS AGAIN!” He held up a corner of the tablecloth and Gaster cheered. It seemed to be stuck together. Thread magic? He was trying to teach Papyrus thread magic? Papyrus was learning how to use thread magic? He was impressed with both of them. Not that he doubted either Papyrus’ magic or his ability to learn, but thread magic was subtle and Papyrus was not. Thus the holes in the tablecloth and the shredded dishrags. Papyrus threw the stitched-together tablecloth over his shoulders like a cape and strutted around the room a few times, tossing the cape from his shoulders and spinning around. Gaster watched with a faint smile, absently attempting to put one of the dishrags back together. Papyrus, perched on the back of the couch, suddenly noticed Sans. “SANS! YOU’RE AWAKE!”
Gaster looked up. He seemed embarrassed to be found sitting in a nest of destroyed dishrags. “Hello Sans. We’ve, uh”
“SANS I MADE A CAPE!”
“I see,” said Sans.
“GASTER’S TEACHING ME TO USE THREAD MAGIC! WELL I’M STILL GETTING THE HANG OF IT BUT LOOK I MADE SOMETHING!”
“That’s cool, bro.”
“IT IS IMMENSELY COOL, BROTHER!” Papyrus slammed the door open and raced into the snow outside, holey tablecloth billowing behind him. “I HAVE A CAAAAAAPE!” Gaster laughed.
“Your brother is something. I really didn’t expect him to get it, but he just kept trying until he figured it out.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” said Sans, starting down the stairs. “I hope you don’t expect me to have that kinda drive, because I don’t.”
“Yes you do.” Sans looked up in surprise. He hadn’t said it in a dismissive, encouraging way, but matter-of-fact. “I mean…” he looked down, uncomfortable, and began signing, then shoved his hands in his pockets when he saw Sans watching. “Everyone’s different,” he muttered lamely. Sans nodded.
“That’s true.” As if on cue, Papyrus came hurtling back through the door, trailing snow and cape.
“SANS IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY AND THE GOOP THINGS ARE ALL GONE AND THERE’S NEW SNOW AND I LOVE IT!”
“That’s great.” Papyrus propelled himself across the room, dropped down in front of Gaster and seized his hands.
“THANK YOU!” Gaster looked extremely uncomfortable, but pleased.
“You’re welcome. You picked it up quickly.”
“THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS A FAST LEARNER! AND ALSO A FAST BREAKFAST MAKER!” Papyrus disappeared into the kitchen, and Gaster stood, looking suddenly alarmed. Sans started towards the still open door to close it, but there was a glimmer of purple and it closed itself. Huh. He looked back just in time to see the shreds of dishrag collecting themselves into a neat pile as Gaster headed for the kitchen.
“I could, ah—Papyrus you’re on fire.”
“AAH! MY CAPE!”
“It’s alright, you can make another one. One that’s not covered in holes.”
“THAT’S TRUE.”
Sans smiled. He still wasn’t entirely sure what to think of Gaster, but he was starting to like him.

 

A/N: Skeletons have ectoplasm in their skulls. It helps them to digest food and… honestly we’re not sure. Magic?

I’ve caught the plague and I’m not at my best but I made myself finish this chapter up with a healthy ending dose of fluffiness for today to serve as a small amount of much-needed escapism for my fellow American readers. What even is this election? Can we turn Liberty off and back on again?  

Chapter 10: DOOR

Ten whole chapter, Alias! Ten whole chapter! ..OK I'm still losing at Nanowrimo.

The power still wasn’t back, but Snowdin was used to doing without. Papyrus was making some form of breakfast by the light of several crystals and his own fire magic, and Gaster was trying to keep the house from burning down. Sans was watching with a wider than usual version of his permanent grin.
“SO IF YOU BUILT THE CORE IT WOULD STOP BLACKOUTS FROM HAPPENING?”
“If it works, which is the whole point of our current project, then yes.”
“OH. THAT’S GOOD. ALTHOUGH BLACKOUTS ARE KIND OF FUN.”
“They can be. The Core will give dependable power to the whole Underground. It will make life much more comfortable—not that everyone likes that idea.”
“Who doesn’t?” said Sans, slouching in the doorway. “I like it when things are comfortable.”
“Well, yes, but… making the Underground more livable is not an important project on the ‘breaking the barrier and getting out’ track, you know?”
“Are we really going to do that?” said Sans, narrowing his eyes a little. Gaster smiled.
“Oh, you’d be surprised.”
“I mean, I hear about it all the time, I just didn’t believe it—“
“YOU DON’T BELIEVE ASGORE WILL GET US OUT?” Papyrus spun, knocking a mug to the edge of the counter with his elbow. Gaster caught it in a small shield and pushed it back. “I DO!”
“So do I,” said Gaster quietly, “although I doubt his methods.”
Sans shrugged. “I guess I’ve just got a defeatist attitude. Don’t let it get on your nerves—wait, you don’t have any, do you? We’re good.”
“So you are not averse to bringing power to the Underground,” said Gaster.
“Heck nah. It’s the obvious thing to do. I don’t know what the Royal Scientist is up to—“
“HE’S RESEARCHING HOW TO BREAK THE BARRIER!”
Like hell he is.
“—but even he must need power for his experiments.”
“He has a generator. Not that it doesn’t blow out regularly—it’s still a piece of crap.” Gaster chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “I’ve seen it. I did not offer to fix it. I’m a jerk.” Actually, he viewed his unhelpful comments on the clunker as low-key sabotage. He didn’t like the Royal Scientist and he didn’t trust him to behave ethically. He liked to think that the generator blew out when his superior attempted to do something shady. Probably not, but it was a pleasant thought. “Anyway. Good to know you’re on board with the ultimate agenda. One question, Sans: do you ever wear pants?”
“PANTS? HE’S WEARING PANTS.”
“Shorts,” said Sans, looking down. “Er, no.”
“Thank you for being candid.”
Sans shrugged. “Didn’t see the point. And I like shorts. I don’t think I own any long pants, actually. Uh, to be fair, it’s kind of hard to find them this—short.”
“Ah.” Sans disappeared briefly and came back holding Gaster’s phone, which was ringing. 5 missed calls from Nerdqueen, the screen declared. Gaster answered it with one hand, tempering an overexcited burst of fire magic from Papyrus with the other. “Alphys?”
“Gaster.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh nothing, just, if you don’t answer on the first ring it usually means you’re deeply absorbed something and have lost all concept of time.”
“…Yes. I’m making breakfast, actually.” He put out another fire and freed Papyrus’ cape from the corner of a cupboard door. “Sort of. I’m helping…”
“Oh good! So you haven’t forgotten.”
“Forgotten?”
“…Haha. You have. I was right.”
“What have I forgotten?”
“Your meeting with Asgore.”

Papyrus dropped a bowl, and nobody caught it.

“Gaster? Are you there?”
“Haha. Whoops.”
“Well, it’s fine, you’ve still got some hours to get ready, um—“
“Actually I don’t. I’m in Snowdin.”
“You’re where?!”
“I need to run. Thank you, Alphys.”
“What did you forget?” said Sans, grinning up at him.
“I have to talk to Asgore. And my notes are in Waterfall.”
“You’d better get going, then.”
Papyrus turned around. “WHAT? YOU’RE LEAVING?”
“Unfortunately, yes, I have a tendency to forget appointments, and I—eh.” Papyrus hugged him. He really didn’t know what to do with this much friendly. He didn’t dislike it, but good lord, he’d just met the mon. And now he was getting excited and losing his voice. “Sans—“ Sans did not offer to hug him, which was good, but also made him self-conscious for some reason. “I’ll see you soon.”

He left at a sprint. It made him feel like a kid again, bounding through the snow, coat snapping in the air behind him. The dull warm glow of firelight and crystals from Snowdin sank in the all-encompassing dark as he followed the path into the woods, where the only light came from the snow. He kept running, out of breath now, but enjoying himself.

He slowed after a while, wondering why he hadn’t reached the ferry yet. He realized, all at once, a few moments later, that it was because he was on the wrong path. But he was still enjoying himself, so he kept going, thinking he’d hit the river or another path soon.

Why he kept running he was afterwards unsure, but it was distinctly not soon when he reached the end of the path. It disappeared under a very solid, very closed door in the cave wall, crested with the Delta Rune.

He’d gone entirely, completely the wrong way, hadn’t he. Since he was alone, he let himself shout at length in Wingdings and flop down in the snow. Then he got up and approached the door. He was naturally curious—it had nearly gotten him killed many times, but it was also responsible for most of his scientific brilliance. This door looked like it sealed off the passage to the Ruins. It hadn’t been here the last time he’d been in the area, though admittedly that had been a long time ago. He examined it, running his fingers over the cracks. A spider which had been staring at him squeezed under the door and disappeared. Gaster paused, hands resting on the door. There were traces of magic, subtle but powerful—basic structural reinforcement, but also for deflecting notice, making the door seem utterly unremarkable. It had probably always been there, just a part of the cave wall. The fact that it was the same color and blended in well with the wall helped this. That the magic was there at all was curious: who had bothered to put so much into a door in the middle of nowhere? And there was something in the quality of the magic that seemed familiar, warm and radiating, inclined to fire magic. He pressed himself against the door, letting the magic seep into the side of his face. The left side, where he could feel it.
“Toriel.”
Was this where she’d been all this time? Who knew about this door? It couldn’t be a complete secret—but then, the magic to make it seem unremarkable was working quite well; even Gaster, curious as he was, probably would have lost interest quickly if he hadn’t recognized Toriel’s magic. Maybe it could be unremarked, which was safer than a complete secret.

He'd been there for some time when there was a polite cough from behind the door. A voice spoke.
“?black?lady?is it you?”
The voice was speaking froggit. Gaster took a moment to translate before croaking back.
“.No.Who is?”
“?Who?Not lady in black?But is boss monster?How?”
“?Who I?Friend, unless threatened.What is black lady?”
“?You do not know her?”
“.I know a white lady.”
“.She is white.She wears black.She does not like outsiders.Go away.”
“?You know her?”
“.Spider said one outside.I thought her.Froggit silly.Forget I spoke.Go away.” Gaster flattened himself on the ground, trying to glimpse the froggit under the door. He caught a flicker of movement as it hopped away.
“.Not leave.Wait?” It was gone. He switched back to Standard to complain, but he was in fact very happy. It was possible that there were more boss monsters in the Underground besides the Dreemurrs and himself, but not likely, and if the froggit had mistaken him for someone behind the door based on that, it only left one likely candidate. Toriel in black, though. That just seemed wrong. But then, she was mourning two children and a homicidal husband. Ex? What do you call someone you’ve fled but not officially separated from?

Asgore. That reminded him. He still had a meeting, and he was lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, far from the ferry. He touched the door, reluctant to leave. But it would be insane to wait around on the chance that Toriel felt like taking a long stroll down a dead end passage to stand by the door and listen. He had to go. He nuzzled the door, memorizing the feel of the magic, then walked away down the path. He was going to be late. He was going to be very late.

Then, as he walked, he heard something. A sound that hung like heavy gleaming silk in the air. Calm, clear and impassive, like a death-bell ringing on a frosty morning. Someone was singing, through the trees, down by the river.

Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger

Gaster ran, stumbling through snowdrifts and shoving aside branches. He was half-blinded by snow by the time he reached the bank. He hit a patch of ice and slithered over the edge. The water came to the bottom of his ribcage. A low boat which seemed to glide weightless on the surface of the river was just passing him, and its rider faced away from him, singing calm and clear.

Ring around a rosy
Pocket full of posies
Ashes to ashes
Ah, they all fall down

Gaster swore and turned around to see how to get back to shore without sinking any deeper. Skeletons were bad at swimming, and even if he’d been an amphibian he wouldn’t have felt like swimming in this freezing water.
“Why so easily upset? It’s unlike you. Or did you so believe? Tra la la.” Gaster turned back around. The boat had somehow (!) shot backwards against the current and was now floating motionless just behind him.
“You came back.”
“Without being asked. Tra la la. Don’t be defeatist. It’s not contagious, is it?” Gaster waded closer, forcing himself through a drift of slush, and clambered onto the back of the boat, which remained still for him and then began a smooth drift forwards.
“Shouldn’t be.”
“All sorts of things shouldn’t be. Tra la la. Lay me down in the river,
Love me like I’m a sinner,
Lay me down
Lay me down
Lay me down.
If I drown in the river
Will my soul be delivered
Lay me down
Lay me down
Lay me down.”

The Riverperson waited for him to run home for his notes and a change of clothes, then delivered him to the shores of New Home with strange chill music still ringing in his skull. He looked back when he’d walked a short distance and saw the river deserted.

 

A/N: So, here are some things.

The Riverperson sings part of Gravedigger, and then River by Oh Be Clever.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjyq-s--HNA
Firstly and most importantly, THERE IS A DOOR in this chapter. DOOR. DOOR. DOOR DOOR DOOR. DOOR. DOOR DOOR DOOOOOOOOR. It is an epic door, and deserves an epic song. DOOR. Follow the link, I dare you. DOOR.

http://trefoil-underscore.deviantart.com/art/Skeleton-Behaviors-645526606
I have a not-very-active-or-interesting DA account which is mostly full of random notes and stuff. One such note that I recently completed deals with skeleton FAQs for my… does the CORE world count as an AU? I’m going to say yes? I’ve got a heck of a lot of headcanoning going on here so yes. So yeah, skele FAQs for this AU. Might clear some things up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLhpgVR_iCY&list=PLJh3XnwJzAZfQhpcpf03BJaihen9h3sPC
Also I am working on a playlist for the story. Not because I am great at playlists, but because I thought it would be fun and I can.
I was tempted to include Door.
If you have a song suggestion please give it! I may not put it in the playlist because I’m only using songs that I personally like and I have specific tastes, but I will be very happy to check it out!
I am trying to make the songs relate in some fashion (kinda sorta possibly maybe) to the story. The remixes should be obvious. Kings has extremely appropriate lyrics, I think of it as Asgore going into “smash the barrier and kill everyone” mode after his children die. Science is there because heckin’ SCIENCE. And Cosmic Love makes me think of the darkness of the caves; the lines (spoilers? kinda?) around “so I stayed in the darkness with you” make me think of Gaster waking up in the Underground in his correct time instead of staying spatio-temporally displaced, which honestly was not that terrible. Coffins (six as a matter of fact) should make sense, especially coming right after an Asgore remix. And Echo is just a great song which has been adopted by the Undertale fandom already with several covers and animations. Why We Lose: because monsters don’t have Determination. (Under normal circumstances.)

Also DO YOU SEE THE TOASTER YET, PEOPLE WHO COULD NOT SEE THE TOASTER

Chapter 11: Curioser and Curioser

In which we are offered tea. 

The floor was covered in golden flowers.

He remembered this place. He’d woken up, if that was what he should call it, in almost exactly the same place, the first garden of two, which now lay in the Ruins. It had been a long time, they told him—long, in the terms of life, and going unresponsive. Barely a blip in terms of what he’d seen. Time flowed past, liquid and weightless, and became colored with emotions, actions, life. Each split-second streaming past him arrived colorless, left him carrying his shadow.

He'd zoned out again, staring down at the flowers, feeling time drift past, smooth like the drift of the Riverperson’s boat, cold like their song. He’d been unconscious, they told him, for nearly a year. It had been Toriel’s idea to lay him in the flowers, where the light would shine on him and they would quickly notice if he showed signs of life. He shouldn’t have stayed alive so long, but Toriel had poured healing magic into him every day and he hadn’t been able to die. When he finally woke up, Home, and the flowers, had grown up around him. He had no memories of them. But he did remember other things. Impossible things. He’d seen the sky traced in lines by hundreds of birds and tried to decipher the meaning of frost hieroglyphs growing over the surface of a pond. He’d seen humans going about their lives, forgetting the monsters, eating and cleaning their houses and being lonely. Occasionally rioting, because that was a thing that humans did, not that it accomplished anything besides blind mass rage and cracked windshields. He knew what windshields were, he’d seen them. Sometimes the humans died. They died for the stupidest things.

Sometimes the Barrier was there, sometimes it wasn’t. It didn’t matter. He’d forgotten that such things could stop him.

Gaster inhaled and focused on one golden petal. Present. Stay in the present. But the present was moving, time was always drifting by, and the earth was turning, a slow majestic dance with the stars in the night sky and the blazing sun silent on the side—the flowers looked quite healthy, Asgore spent a lot of time on them. Flowers. Light. Birds should be singing here, but there were no birds in the Underground. He wondered what the younger generation would think of birdsong if they ever got out. They’d probably be terrified the first few times they heard it. Birdsong, another impossible memory. He’d crossed the Barrier into the Underground and stayed there, he knew that. But he remembered otherwise.

Grounded again, Gaster walked gently through the flowers, looking for his king, trying not to think about the motion of the earth through empty space. Beneath his feet and above his head, stone was turning, and he was turning with it, suspended in time like a fish floating in water, drifting along and drinking life.

He was snapped out of it again by a face. He knew he knew this mon but he didn’t remember why. It was a tall husky with pale eyes the color of early morning sky on the Surface. They were very cold. The two paused in the doorway, blocking each other, and Gaster stared for a moment in uncomprehending recognition before stepping aside. The husky looked oddly at him as he passed. Perhaps he’d recognized Gaster as well. Perhaps he’d caught the stare and thought it was weird. Gaster had a somewhat unsettling feeling that it was the former.

…That child.

It couldn’t be the former. He’d been intangible then.

One of the first of his impossible memories—he was standing ankle-deep in shining water. Bioluminescent? Mineral? Magic? He hadn’t wondered at the time, strangely, although it was his first time in Waterfall. He’d been looking at the human child sitting on the clump of water weeds that made an island a short distance from him. A draggled but still fluffy tulle skirt hung around the small waist. Shoulders of a delicate brown rose and fell gently with the child’s breathing. They looked very small, and soft, and alone, sitting there and staring out over the shimmering water. He loved that child.

He’d followed them all over Waterfall. They seemed to be lost, and it didn’t help that they fled blindly in the opposite direction whenever they saw a monster coming. They stumbled across Gerson’s shop and he was decent to them, which Gaster appreciated.

Years later—before the memory, but still in the future for Gaster—Gerson mentioned to Gaster that he was thinking of setting up shop in Waterfall. Gaster had remarked “that’s right, I remember that.” He’d had a hard time explaining what that meant.

The husky had been the one to find the child. They had been the one to kill it. The child had fought back, terrified, determined, but only for so long. It only wanted to escape, it did not really want to kill. Intent to kill was everything. And the husky had it.

Gaster hadn’t realized that he was screaming at the child’s murderer until the husky paused and turned to face his general direction. Gaster’s voice made no sound. But perhaps it caused disruption of some kind, because the husky stared through him for a moment, holding the small, limp body in his forearms, letting it drip dark fluid into the shining water. Then he turned and carried the child away.

He disliked that mon. He always had. But they’d never properly met.

Gaster shook it off and passed through the door. Asgore was frowning at a planner.

Asgore had tried to so hard to talk to him once he was back. He’d almost felt bad for him. Almost. He’d gotten used to being an observer. He’d even stopped questioning, something that had never happened to him before, no matter how alienated he’d felt. Before he’d felt separate from others. Now he felt separate from himself. Time was heavy all of a sudden, he’d felt that he could drown in it. He was used to it being loose, fragmented, fickle. He’d slid through it without resistance, but to live he had to be bound, let it pass him by in increments.

“Gaster! You’ve finally crawled out of your hidey hole. Come, sit down.”
“My king.”
Gaster bowed his head, then sat. Asgore gestured at the planner, which was covered with scribbles. “This is a mess. I miss Toriel, she never had to write things down, she’d just remember.”
Gaster imagined himself saying ‘yeahhhh, about that! Been in Snowdin recently?’
Gaster mentally laughed at his own mental joke.
“So you still haven’t seen her?”
Asgore sighed. “No. There have been rumors, here, there. Nothing for certain. She seems to be hiding in one of the smaller, unexplored caves leading away from Hotland.”
Ah. Was she cleverly allowing monsters to catch misleading glimpses of her, or was it simply unfounded rumor? “Ah, well. How are you holding up alone?”
“Well enough. I’ve appointed a Head of the Royal Guard, you may have passed him going out.”
Oh. That mon. Asgore knew how to pick ruthless. And for a moment there, he’d felt sorry for him, having to rule over this underworld alone. “I did.” Something in Gaster’s tone made Asgore look up.
“Oh! Do you know him?”
I know that he kills an innocent child without hesitation. Has that happened yet? Perhaps it’s what brought him to Asgore’s attention. That service he’s done for all monsterkind. Gaster knew that a human had been killed in Waterfall not long before, although he hadn’t had a chance to see it in the flesh. “Slightly. I believe he’s effective.”
Asgore chuckled. “I too believe that he is effective.”
“One would hope that you hire based on merit,” smiled Gaster. “Now, why am I here?”
“Why are you here? Because I invited you. Well, specifically, to discuss this Core thing. Can we just have some tea first?”
“Of course.”
“It’ll be just like old times, when you lived with us.”
Gaster was pretty sure he didn’t mean the old times when he was unable to feed himself. That hadn’t been especially pleasant for anyone. He had, eventually, remembered. Or had he learned to fake it? Now and then, ever since, he thought that he’d never really returned. He steered his body around from far away. He never really connected.
No, he was here. He looked down at his hands, blasted and chipped, and focused on the magic holding the broken bones together. He rubbed a fingertip over the grain of the table. Asgore had said something and he’d missed it. He apologized.

 

A/N: this was all going to be one chapter but it got super long due to me dwelling on the flashbacks, which I want to get out of the way all at once if possible.

Also, people seem to be (understandably) confused as to what I mean by Toaster. I could just tell you. But where would be the fun in that?! Besides, it ought to be noticeable without my telling you that it’s there. If not, I’m doing a bad job here.

Chapter 12: Spare the Children

In which he's not my kid

“He only has one HP?”
“Curious, isn’t it.”
“That should be impossible.”
Gaster thought of the river person. “A lot of things should be impossible.” Gaster thought of birdsong. Early morning chill. He was in a fallow field, dead brown stalks all covered with frost. They lay tangled in incomprehensible patterns, like a Celtic knot that covered the ground, and he’d walked over it for some unremarked space of time, staring and staring at the patterns. The frost melted away. The stalks became dry. Shadows ran around and under them, slowly changing color. The sky blazed out in fire which faded. Returning cold. There had been new frost. There had been new sun. Frost melting away, blaze of far-off white light that barely warmed… “This is good tea.”
“But Gaster, you were just telling me how concerned you are about crawlers attacking the lab. You can’t hire a monster with only one HP.”
“He’s used to crawlers.”
“Yes, but…”
“Are you suggesting he just be unemployed?”
“Surely he can find a less dangerous job!”
“I don’t think he wants to, and for better or for worse, that choice is his own.”
“Alright, I’ll trust you on this. But I can’t help but feel that it’s irresponsible.”
“It might be. I never said I made the best decisions, but in this at least I follow a truly august example.”
“Hm?”
“He’s one of your sentries.”
“What!”
“Sorry. He’s more of the intellectual type. He finds it boring. I’m stealing him.”
“But—I didn’t—who hired him?”
“Oh I don’t know specifically, I think it was before you passed that law about HP checks. He has a bone to pick with you about that, by the way.” Haha puns. Make bad puns, accept that they are bad, move on, don’t doubt yourself too much, don’t start questioning, you’ll start to doubt that you’re really there, you’ll zone out and—crap what’s he saying?
“I must admit I’m rather lost now. I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“Me neither. But I’m glad you don’t object to my taking him. He’s a mathematical genius.”
“Is he now?”
“And possibly telekinetic, but it’s… somewhat fickle at the moment.”
“Ah. Things fly off in unexpected directions?”
“No no, he has excellent control. It’s just that after he picks something up, the thing tends to forget that there’s such a thing as gravity.”
“Oh. Goodness. I’d like to see this.”
Gaster smiled. “It’s much more elegant than shoving things around with shields. If he manages to stabilize it I might be jealous. Anyway, he should be safer working in a lab than on sentry duty, in theory at least.”
“Indeed. Skeletons are fascinating, it’s too bad there aren’t more of you. Oh, on that subject! Any chance of your child becoming a reality?” Gaster stopped in the act of sipping his tea and lowered the cup. He laughed faintly, running a hand over his skull.
“Oh. I’d forgotten that. I did tell you that one, didn’t I?” Well this was certainly a day for remembering confusing things. “I’m surprised that you remembered. And especially that you seem to believe me.”
“I believe you’ve seen things that have happened or that may, Gaster, I just don’t know how to interpret them.”
“Me too.”

It had been a brief flash, hard to recall, but powerful all the same. He was kneeling in a vast empty darkness, holding a smaller skeleton, who was hemorrhaging magic and appeared to be unconscious. He was terrified. He hadn’t stuck around to find out what happened—in his observing mindset, negative emotion meant that it was time to move on. If he’d been more himself he would have wanted to discover what the scene meant, why he was afraid. But he hadn’t.

“He’s not my son,” said Gaster.
“Oh, have you changed your mind?”
“No, well yes, you’re right, I understand very little of what I remember. He’s not my son because I just met him.”
“Really! When were you going to mention this?”
“I hadn’t realized until you brought it up.” The skeleton in the darkness had been bleeding light blue magic, the exact color he’d seen Sans use to telekinetically sweep clutter out of the room. And they were the same shape, though he hadn’t seen the memory skeleton’s face. Now that he remembered he was shocked that he hadn’t connected the two sooner. Then again, he was making a conscious effort not to confuse his impossible memories with ordinary life. And although he hadn’t known exactly who the other skeleton was to him, he felt certain that they would be friends, and he hadn’t expected their first meeting to consist of his future friend walking into his office and trying to shoot him in the face. No, maybe it wasn’t that surprising that he hadn’t realized sooner. But now that he had, it opened up a whole new slew of problems. What was that memory? Was it a concrete reality, a dream, or a symbol? Or had he been hallucinating? He’d never entirely ruled that possibility out, either, although several specific memories had come true in his waking life. Sort of. He thought. It was confusing—the new Head of the Royal Guard, for example. Did he really remember him? He couldn’t trust himself, and it was infuriating. He took a large sip of tea and nearly choked. Asgore waited for him to recover. “Huh. Well. I’ll be interested to see how this works out.” Had he seen Sans in any other memories? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t sure. He hated that feeling of doubt.
“I will as well,” said Asgore. “Keep me updated.”

Neither of them mentioned the other child. The one that looked like a younger sibling to Asriel, whom Gaster had seen when not even Asriel was born. The one who was lost forever, now, as far as either of them had any understanding. It could have been anyone on that hill. It could have been any time, or no time at all-only a distant echo of possibility. Perhaps it was a scene from far in the past, when it was ordinary to find monster and human children playing together on a fine autumn day.

Yet they haunted him, these children.

So much light. A blaze of orange gold falling from the western horizon into the woods below, turning them into a shining amber translucence. The air was crisp on the hilltop, gentle wind, sharp crackle of leaves as the children raced through them, sometimes stooping to grasp a handful of the orange flakes and fling them to the sky—or in someone else’s face. One of the smallest, a monster with snowy white fur and soft brown eyes, tripped while trying to keep up and fell on its face in the leaves, flopping down limp like a rag. Gaster started forwards instinctively before remembering that he couldn’t interact with these children. But one of the older ones had already stopped and come back for the little one. They picked it up and it smiled up at them, forgetting the tears that had risen in its eyes, and nuzzled the older child’s neck. The older child was human, with a messy mop of brown hair and a loose blue sweater, and they carefully picked leaves out of the silky fur of the monster child’s black-tipped ears.
Gaster wished he’d looked more closely at what the children were wearing, what the houses looked like below the hill, anything to tell him for sure whether or not this scene predated the Barrier. But he was marveling at the small silky monster with floppy black-tipped ears and, he thought, Toriel’s eyes.

He’d thought that it was the future. But it seemed that that future was gone now. The souls of three murdered children floated trapped in stasis in Asgore’s basement, the monsters were becoming militarized. The Royal Guard was Asgore’s tentative first step towards realizing what had been his primary goal since his children died. Vengeance. And of course, freedom. A sight of the stars again.

Gaster would rather trust the children of the hoped-for future for a thousand years than do what Asgore had done. But then, he was not king. And he had not watched his children die.

They had died in the garden. He paused there on his way out. It was almost identical to the garden that was now in the ruins, abandoned, unless Toriel cared for it. She had carried him there, against advice to let him turn to dust in the settlement near the barrier—on the stones not far from where he was now standing. He’d been drifting, unthinking, a dreamer loose in time. Two monsters had helped him come back.

The first, oddly enough, was the Riverperson. They could see him.

They could see him. He’d ended up, somehow, sitting on the back of their boat, and he saw no reason to get off. It was pleasant, drifting along on the water, hearing the Riverperson’s song. But then they spoke to him.
“I know you a bit, from outside the Barrier.” Gaster started. “I know the names that went into that shadow on your soul. Where do you go, by the way? It’s looking a bit unhealthy. I suggest you head home.” Gaster stood and left the boat, gliding over the water towards the shore without stopping to wonder if he could in his eagerness to get away. “Oh. How rude.” They could see him?? What were they?

Several memories later, they met in Waterfall.
“You again.”
“Can you.. see me?”
“You’re not dead, you know. And therefore, none of my business, unless I say so.”
Gaster stepped closer to the hooded figure. Their face was shadowed so deeply he couldn’t see any features. “Who are you?”
“Oh, you know me. Ferryman, ferrywoman, being with the boat. I carried your relatives, one by one. A few of them mentioned you, I believe. Gaster?” Gaster stepped closer. “Yes. You seem lost…”
“Death.”
The figure half-turned from him and began to softly sing, as if deep in thought.

And am I born to die

The music was like deep water, barely ruffled by waves on a distant surface. Gaster stepped closer.

To lay this body down

The Riverperson lifted a hand from its cloak, which fell away in heavy folds of shadow, clinging to their body like water. It was a skeletal hand, like Gaster’s own. The Riverperson extended it towards him.

And must my trembling spirit fly

Gaster touched the hand. He could feel it. He linked his fingers through the others, feeling bone against bone for the first time since that night on the surface when he’d thought he was the last.

Into a world unknown

The Riverperson turned with a smooth motion and, still holding him by the hand, struck him over the soul with the palm of their free hand. Gaster flew backwards with a choked scream, but the Riverperson was still holding him, and he didn’t fall. His soul shivered and, for a moment, became more solid. His body—he could feel his body again—was covered in cracks. The palms of his hands fell away in dust. He felt sick. Then—

He saw himself, lying in golden flowers, eyesockets empty, skull cracked and warped. One flower had grown up through the hole in his left hand and blossomed above it. Toriel was speaking to someone nearby. They seemed to be discussing him.

He dropped to his knees, shuddering, and looked at his hands. They were whole.
“Hm.” Said the Riverperson. Gaster looked up. They had withdrawn their hands into the cloak and stood again shrouded in darkness. “Interesting. You are very lost.”
“I’m not dead? I’m not dead.”
“Surely you knew that.” The Riverperson turned.
“No, wait!”
“Why?” They stepped onto their boat, which began a gentle glide from the shore. Gaster ran onto the water after them, sputtering unintelligibly. It seemed not even his ghost was good at talking. “Find me when you’re whole. Or not. I’ll find you, sooner or later. Tra la la.” Gaster stood on the water and watched the boat glide away.

He didn’t go back immediately. He didn’t think, later, that he was able to. But he began receiving flashes of awareness of light, of gold, of invigorating green magic, from his body, lost somewhere in the drift of time.

It was Toriel that brought him back. He saw her, in a moment, huddled in the flowers beside his body, crying.
Crying.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. She seemed to be talking to him. He listened. “I think Asgore blames you… I told him, it doesn’t strain me, and… I can’t just let you die…” she smiled, sniffling. “Sometimes, things just don’t work out, not for any reason, they just… don’t happen.” She was quiet for a moment, then curled up in the flowers, sobbing bitterly. “I just—so much—wanted a child, but—not yet, not yet.” He still didn’t understand what was happening, but he reached out for her, and all at once realized that he could come back—that he should go back.
…It was strange. He felt he was losing something…
…
He was very cold.
He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t move?
This fact shocked him into a kind of awareness. He was afraid now. Why couldn’t he move? He could only see from one eye, and everything looked strangely flat. He was heavy. He’d never felt so heavy. After failing to get up, he focused on moving his left hand, which lay near Toriel’s ear in the flowers. It was like reaching through thick mud. He managed to move his fingers against the edge of her ear.
She sat up and shook her head with a sigh. She wasn’t looking at him. No. Wait. She stood, as if to leave. Gaster managed to turn his head slightly, just enough to fix her in an accusing stare. She froze.
“Gaster?” He kept looking at her. She sank to her knees and waved a hand in front of his face. He squinted, annoyed. Toriel’s face slowly broke into a huge grin. She scooped him up in her arms and raced out of the garden. “Asgore! Asgore!” a door was kicked open and Gaster caught a glimpse of Asgore slumped pensively on a couch. At Toriel’s sudden entrance he leapt into the air.
“Tori! What?”
“He’s alive!”
“What….?”
“Look at him! He’s alive! He’s alive!”
“Are you sure?..” Gaster was offended enough by this to grunt faintly. Toriel grinned proudly down at him. Asgore came closer. “Oh. I… Hello, Gaster. Sorry about, er… everything.” He chuckled. “Where have you been all this time? We were worried.”
Were you indeed.

It took a while. He remembered how to move before he remembered how to speak—he’d never been good at that. And moving didn’t come easily either. It helped that he was still disoriented enough that he wasn’t easily embarrassed, and he adapted happily to getting around the garden by flailing across the ground, rolling for short distances. He made a mess of the flowers. Asgore was too decent to mention it.

The first time he managed some kind of communication was due to Asgore’s extremely questionable fashion sense. He’d decided that Gaster needed a change of clothes and appeared suddenly one day in the garden with a long, shimmery golden robe in roughly Gaster’s size. He seemed pleased with himself. Gaster’s single eyelight, which had previously remained very dim, glowed angry purple. “I think he likes it?” said Asgore, offering the clothes to Gaster. Gaster flattened himself against the ground and hissed loudly. He kept hissing until Asgore withdrew the clothes. Asgore quietly went into hysterics. “Tori. Tori, get over here, you need to see this.” He shoved the clothes in Gaster’s face. “So what do you think?” Gaster hissed. Asgore was laughing. “That’s right, he always wore black, didn’t he? So dull.”
“Stop torturing the mon, fluffybuns.”
“Hey! Maybe if we try to put it on him he’ll be so offended that he remembers how to use magic!”
“Don’t you dare!”
“What? It’s therapy! It might get me killed, but all in the name of rehabilitation!”
“Asgore!”
“You’re laughing too.” Gaster huffed, but even he had realized how silly the situation was. “Look! He’s smiling!”
He improved rapidly after that, in a simple hooded black robe stitched with a silver Delta rune across the chest. Asgore kept the first robe and occasionally went into fits of laughter for no discernable reason: when asked what he was thinking of, he’d threaten to punish Gaster by forcing him into it if he ever committed a crime.

And now here he was, standing, speaking as well as he ever had, in the garden in New Home. He was feeling overstimulated. Too many memories clashing with too much new information. He could barely remember what Asgore had said to him.

Gaster started down towards the river, eager to get home. He needed to have another cup of tea and curl up with his cats. He was feeling dangerously disconnected from reality.

The monster child looked at him with wide, soft eyes, nibbling a leaf.

Yeah, he needed to get home.

 

A/N: Here just have ALL the updates at once!
The Riverperson sings And Am I Born to Die, a beautifully haunting song which I discovered just today.
We’re going back to Sans’ POV next chapter. Rejoice, people who have missed reading his angst in first person. It returns. Eheheheheh.
Also I ended up with a bad unintentional whole-hole pun there hurr hurr
For the record, Asgore thinks that Gaster is the one with extremely questionable fashion sense.
Oh! And thank you to everyone who reviews, it fills me with DETERMINATION!

Chapter 13: Blatant Filler

You observe the number 13. You are filled with DETERMINATION. ...and an eerie feeling of dread?

Gaster arrived home by instinct. His first impression from reality was of crawling under a blanket and wondering if he’d shut the front door after him. Whatever impulse had carried him safely home without his conscious knowledge, he decided, had probably also reminded him to shut the door. He sat up slowly, cocooning himself in the blanket with only his face exposed, and focused on a piece of wall opposite him. Later, after checking the time, he guessed that he’d been like that for several hours. He’d lost sense of time.

Alphys was a night owl, and especially so when Bratty and Catty came over to chill. But now even they had left and she was feeling a little dizzy on her feet, so she felt it was time to go to bed. She was about to climb into bed when her phone rang. Caller ID was DingDings. She answered it.
“Gaster?”
“  .”
“Hey, Doc.”
“    .”
“It’s kinda late. A-are you doing OK?”
“Fine.” His voice was low. “Talk to me, Alphys.”
“U-uh, sure. Uh, Bratty and Catty were over and they just left, so you didn’t wake me up.”
“I… didn’t even think of that. I’m glad.”
“Yeah, no, it’s fine. W-we, uh, watched some TV, Bratty shouted at the screen be-because the romance was really badly plotted, and uh, Catty uh, she shouted at the screen because there uh wasn’t enough romance. We’ve, uh, all seen this show before, it’s a human show and there aren’t many copies, so now we just kinda complain about it cuz we already know what happens, but we still enjoy it.”
“Good.”
“Uh, i-it’s a mess up here, I said I was gonna clean up and I never did haha. Empty noodle cups and sketchbooks and pillows all over the floor. I-it’s alright otherwise. I g-got some posters to cover those wall stains, it’s looking better.”
“Good.”
“What about you?”
“I’m… sitting on the floor… staring at the wall… I have a blanket… which one is this, huh, I didn’t check… oh, it’s the helix nebula. It smells like tea. I may have spilled some in it.” He took a deep breath. His voice was steadier. “One of my cats walked in… it doesn’t seem interested in me.”
“Which one is this?”
“The young orange one with one white foreleg. He likes naps and playing with ribbons. I’m not sure you’ve met.”
“No, I don’t think we have.”
“Hm. We should remedy that.” Pause. “The helix nebula is very soft.” Pause. Gaster huffed, then gave a faint laugh. “Oh. I only just now had the presence of mind to look at the clock. It’s late.”
“Oh I know, I don’t mind I said, I mean, I’m up this late half the time anyway, and you didn’t wake me up or anything”
“Alphys. I think if I called you for help on your wedding day you’d say ‘uh, give me half an hour to cut the cake and I’ll be over.’ Get some sleep.”
“Haha yeah you wouldn’t do that.”
“I certainly hope not. If I ever get that senile just smack me.”
“W-will do.”
“Go to bed, Alphys.”
“Hhhh, sure, if you’re alright? I’m really not tired.”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll find something to work on… I wonder if I could get one of my cats to wear a tiny sweater if I made them one?”
“Ah! That would be adorable!”
“The cats might not agree… Alphys. Thank you.”
“H-hey, no problem, anytime, haha. G’night Gaster.”
“Goodnight.”

Sans awoke staring at the ceiling through several layers of floating junk. None of the clutter from the living room that he’d flung up here had come down.
He’d been up on the cliffs… he’d been hired as one of Gaster’s lab assistants… Gaster had been there, but he’d left.
There was a tight feeling around his soul. His HP trembled at .98.
It was one of those mornings.
He was still staring at the ceiling when he heard someone running up the stairs.
“SAAAAANS.”
“Yeah bro?”
“I’M ON FIRE, SANS.” Sans was on his feet before he could think about getting up, he almost fell over. The door unlocked and wrenched itself open. Papyrus was on fire.
“What…”
“I WAS MAKING CEREAL.”
“How!?”
“AND I FORGOT THAT YOU DON’T WARM UP CEREAL. IT’S JUST A HABIT NOW, YOU KNOW, WHEN I GO IN THE KITCHEN?”
“To light yourself on fire?—why are you standing there?! Out! Go roll in the snow!” Sans chased Papyrus downstairs and telekinetically flung the front door open ahead of him. Under normal circumstances, the sight of Papyrus rolling in the snow with his legs kicking in the air like a dog would have made him laugh, or at least toss a few snowballs, but he just groaned.
This was not a good beginning.

He should be happier. He should be proud.
It just wasn’t working for him.
Since when had he ever made anything work? And it didn’t help that Gaster was so friendly. He wouldn’t have the heart to yell at him when he started slacking off, he’d just be terribly disappointed, and Sans would feel like scum, but not enough to shock him out of this black cloud, just enough that he hated himself.
…None of that had happened yet. It was a beautiful morning. Not that morning was any different from night, outside of the town, here. Still.
He made himself keep walking until he reached his sentry station, because Papyrus had taken him to task about sleeping in the snow. He slumped down inside the station and dropped into a kind of trance, and eventually, sleep. The hushing snow glowed faintly through his dreams.

He woke to the sound of shouting about HOW IRRESPONSIBLE HE WAS TO FALL ASLEEP ON DUTY and blah blah blargh. “I keep my earholes open. If someone came through I’d wake up.”
“I CAME THROUGH!”
“I know your footsteps.”
“SANS, THIS IS SERIOUS!”
“Don’t light it on fire.”
“WHAT?”
“Like cereal. Cerealserious.”
“SANS…” he huffed. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO DO WITH THAT BUT IT’S NOT WORKING.”
“Aww. I’m not humerous enough for you?” he raised his arm, winking.
“SAAANS! CAN’T YOU PUT EFFORT INTO ANYTHING?”
“Nah bro, I gave that up a long time ago.”
“THAT’S NOT TRUE AND YOU KNOW IT. YOU CAN BE QUITE PASSIONATE ABOUT CONSUMING KETCHUP! PUT SOME OF THAT PASSION INTO YOUR WORK!”
“…Which is sitting in a box, staring at the trees.”
“YES, ONLY YOU’RE NOT STARING! YOU’RE SLEEPING!” Papyrus sighed loudly. “HONESLTY I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOU. COME ON PATROL WITH ME, THAT SHOULD KEEP YOU AWAKE AT LEAST.”
“Heh.” Sans slithered over the front of his sentry station and headfirst into the snow, disappearing up to his waist.
“SANS!”
“Hey, don’t freak out, ‘snow problem. Just give me a sec.”
“THAT ONE WAS AT LEAST MILDLY RESPECTABLE.” Papyrus turned Sans right-side up and brushed snow off him. “COME ON.”

Grillby was puzzled.
I asked you what was wrong and you’ve spent the last half hour explaining why you should be happy.
“Yeah, I know, I just… Don’t trust myself to not mess this up, you know?”
“Hf.” Grillby expelled a breath of hot air.
“Look, it’s not something I can explain, it’s just…”
The first time you will have had a job that you can enjoy.
“Er, well yeah”
It makes a difference you know. Why do you think I’m so sparky?
“Pffff. Nice.”
I like being here. And thank you.
“Well, glad we don’t drive you crazy.”
I wouldn’t be happy sitting in lab. And can you imagine Gaster in here, hiding under the counter every time someone wanted to chat? But we’re both happy, because we don’t force ourselves to do things that we don’t care for.
“Heh. That would be something. Hey, why’s he call you Grillbz instead of Grillby? Papyrus was kinda confused by that.”
It’s marginally closer to my real name than the pun on the sign out front.
“Oh, really? What is your name, I don’t think you’ve ever—“ Grillbz signed it very fast. It was long and complicated. Sans didn’t recognize some of the Wingdings gestures. “Uhh, could you say it?” Grillbz said it. “Woah, that sounds really cool. I’m not going to try to say it myself—“
Thank you. You can’t.
“Uhh, you’re welcome?”
It requires knowledge of a language and alphabet you have had no contact with. I don’t expect anyone to say it.
“I guess it must be annoying to have people constantly mispronouncing your name at you.” Grillbz crackled. “I won’t be one of them, though I admit it’s tempting.”
Oh really?
“Yeah, you trust me and I respect that. Also I’m too lazy to bother.”
Sans, you’re just like your father.
“Really?” he was touched.
Except lazy and a jerk. And short.
“…You’re a jerk.”
I said it first. Stop moping and eat your French fries.
“Moping? Heh, who said I was moping? That’s stupid. I’m grinning, see?”
Good. Grillbz rubbed his head with a very warm hand and walked away. Sans leaned his jaw on his hand and watched him move around, changing the cast of the half-shadows that managed to find a place here and there on the floor. Grillby’s was full tonight, one of the sentry dogs was having a birthday.

That was another thing to consider. Leaving Snowdin meant leaving… Snowdin, with all that entailed. He wouldn’t miss the sentry job in itself, but he’d miss the time with Papyrus, and Grillby’s, and the dogs, and everything about the town that he’d grown to love. It had been the first place since his childhood where he really felt that he belonged. It had been a while coming, but since he and Paps had settled in he didn’t feel like moving. Except he kind of did? Sans sighed, accepted that he had no idea what he was trying to do with his life, and ate his fries. He’d come back every chance he got, anyway. The ferries were pretty fast and more or less slightly dependable usually occasionally. And there was the Riverperson, although he’d never met them. It sounded like the Riverperson gave free and very fast rides, albeit of a strange and occasionally reality-bending nature, but only to monsters whom they liked. They hadn’t seemed interested in Sans as yet.

For now, Papyrus came to get him early, while he was still eating—was Paps upset that he would be leaving? He wasn’t showing it, but he’d want to be happy for Sans—and Grillbz waved at Papyrus and signed tab at Sans as he was being pulled out, and he told Papyrus a bedtime story, and the airspace in his room was full of floating junk, and on the floor lay a few scattered pieces which had fallen out of suspension, and things were normal.

Time passed as usual, and then it was morning.

“SANS! YOU’RE STILL A SENTRY FOR NOW! GET UP OR WE WON’T HAVE TIME FOR BREAKFAST! I MADE HAM AND THE KITCHEN IS NOT ON FIRE!”
“Wow, good job bro.”
“YES!”
There was a sound of Papyrus running down stairs. Sans sighed and rolled off his mattress onto the floor. How late was it, and how many minutes could he stall before actually getting up? He pulled his phone towards him, but was distracted from checking the time by the notification of 13 new messages.

Sans! I made you pants!

This is Gaster, by the way.

Whoops that was awkward.

Yes so I was thinking about you not having any long pants and they are just more professional than shorts in my opinion and so I made you some

(There was an attached photo which wouldn’t show up on Sans’s phone, which had been cheap when he bought it, some time before, and was now totally out of date.)

Why aren’t you answering?

I mean aside from the fact that some monster you barely know is sending you pictures of pants

Now I’m starting to wonder how badly I’ve startled you

I’m sorry

OH NO WAIT

I JUST REALIZED IT’S FOUR IN THE MORNING

WHY AM I TEXTING YOU AT FOUR IN THE MORNIGN I AM SO SORRY ASDFADSFKAJHF

…Please forget that I exist

Sans was reduced to curling up in a ball on the floor and snorting explosively.
“SANS! ARE YOU COMING? IF YOU LET THE HAM GET COLD AFTER I MANAGED TO HEAT IT UP WITHOUT SETTING THINGS ON FIRE I AM GOING TO BE ANGRY!”
Sans came downstairs holding his phone and snorting quietly. “Pap. Look at this.”
“WOWIE YOU ACTUALLY LISTENED TO ME! YOUR FOOD IS NOT COLD! WE CAN EAT TOGETHER FOR ONCE! WHY CAN’T YOU DO THIS MORE OFTEN?”
Sans felt a pang of guilt. “I uh… don’t usually feel like getting up in the morning. Sorry bro, I should work on that, heh.”
“WHAT ON EARTH?... SANS, WHAT IS THIS?”
“Keep reading”
“BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE! WHAT? WHAT IS HE SAYING?” Sans put his head down on the table in a fit of laughter. “YOU ARE GOING TO WORK FOR THIS MON?”
“He’s a genius, Paps.”
“…I SEE.”
When Sans could breathe again, he realized that he felt better than he had in days. He leaned back in his chair, grinning widely. “So where’s this breakfast?”
“OH! HERE! TA-DA!” Papyrus produced two plates of a rather charred substance.
“Hey, this looks good! Like Saturdays, huh?”
“WHAT?”
“Oh… Do you remember that? Saturday mornings? Dad’s cooking?”
“HE COOKED? I THOUGHT HE SET EVERYTHING ON FIRE AND MOM KICKED HIM OUT OF THE KITCHEN.”
“That also happened. When he did cook, it looked like this.”
“REALLY!”
“Yep. Be proud, Papy. This is good stuff.”
“YOU DON’T TALK ABOUT THEM MUCH.”
“Nah, I guess not. Should I?” He didn’t really think about their parents, because when he did, he missed them. But it had been a while. It didn’t hurt as much, and he should treasure those memories. He’d shared some of them with Papyrus, but only when he asked.
“YEAH. I DON’T REMEMBER THEM AS WELL AS YOU DO. I FEEL BAD…”
“Don’t, you were just a kid.”
“WELL SO WERE YOU! BUT YOU REMEMBERED!”
“I’m older than you.” Sans wrestled with his ham for a while and finally managed to saw off a small bite. “Yeah, this tastes just about right. You remember ‘burned eggs’? His specialty?”
“ER… THAT SOUNDS FAMILIAR.”
“You used to get excited about your burned eggs.”
“WHAT WERE THEY LIKE?”
“Eggs. Blackened. Like this, except egg.”
“OH! I COULD DO THAT!”
“You could. Uphold the tradition, Papyrus.”
“I SHALL!”
Sans laughed. Grillbz had a point, though he’d probably only been being facetious. Papyrus was more like his father; tall, unshakably optimistic and friendly. He liked practicing his attacks and talking about becoming a hero, but Sans knew that he was a pacifist at heart, like Tahoma. Just fractionally taller and louder. And it hadn’t gotten anyone killed yet.
Sans’ soul felt suddenly cold. He’d rather not see Papyrus follow too closely in their father’s footsteps. And it made him wonder how much he was like Eras.

 

A/N:
“Toasters make everything BREADer”
-Lynja Fairy on FFN

YES. This is truth. This is glory. Behold, the words of Lynja Fairy. Also:

"Toast was a pointless invention from the Dark Ages. Toast was an implement of torture that caused all those subjected to it to regurgitate in verbal form the sins and crimes of their past lives. Toast was a ritual devoured by fetishists in the belief that it would enhance their kinetic and sexual powers. Toast cannot be explained by any rational means. Toast is me. I am toast."
-Margaret Atwood, Oryx and Crake

Sans and Pap’s parents were Tahoma, a true pacifist surgeon with a penchant for terrible dad jokes and dressing like a homeless person, and Eras Light, called simply Eras, a nervous neutral who was the only member of the family able to cook, or, in her opinion, understand basic facts about life, such as ‘Crawlers are evil and will kill you if you try to pet them.’ They won’t have much of a part in the story, sadly, since they are A) OCs and B) dead. I just like them so much falskdjflajsdf
especially Tahoma, he’s adorable
I need to write a oneshot about skelefam life before they died aaaaa

Chapter 14: Look the Plot's Coming Back NO WAIT

In which the narrative is kidnapped by The Riverperson. I'm sorry. 

Another week and a day, and Sans was required at the Royal Scientist’s lab along with his fellow assistants for a day of final testing and discussion—a last chance to back out. Then he’d have two days at home before travelling to the new lab in Hotland for an unknown period of time.

Sans wondered if they’d meet the Royal Scientist. He was Gaster’s supervisor, not theirs. But it was his lab, and he should be curious about the project. That would be something. From what he’d heard, the Royal Scientist was brilliant, brave in undertaking tasks that had never been attempted before, and utterly ruthless in his pursuit of knowledge and power. Specifically, the knowledge of how to gain power. But it was in order to break the Barrier, which was what they all wanted. Gaster seemed very Zen about the whole thing, but he too had to realize that they couldn’t live in the Underground forever. Space was getting cramped, the scientists were doing more and more gymnastics to keep everyone fed and clothed as resources dwindled, and the fact that some monsters’ magic was augmented by sunlight meant that the species slowly weakened or died out in the lightless Underground. The sooner they could get out, the better. The Core was only a help for the meantime, but there was no way of knowing, of course, how long that meantime would be.

As the time approached Sans began to feel excited, even vaguely optimistic, although he was still half unconvinced that this was real. He gained a new appreciation for the small pleasures of life in Snowdin. It would be impossible to bean monsters with snowballs in Hotland. Then again, Hotland wouldn’t have a snowball tax, would it?

Gaster had been wandering deep in the marshes of Waterfall for some hours, hood pulled low over his face so he didn’t have to see too much at once. Now he was sitting on the edge of a deep channel, its surface a smoking, shimmering blaze of blue, staring through the haze into an indistinct marshland beyond. The channels of water snaked brightly across the darkness, like a colder counterpart to the molten gold of streets in human cities when seen from far above at night—he’d found a book of satellite pictures in the dump, and though some of the pages were drab from water damage, it was one of his most treasured possessions.

He felt alone, although a hint of music had appeared and then disappeared from somewhere behind him, so he knew that the Riverperson was about.

If there’s a light at the end it’s just the sun in your eyes
I know you wanna go to heaven but you’re human tonight
And I’ve been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool for a while now
Drowning my thoughts out with the sounds

Human music. But there was something universal about music. He zoned out again for a while, coming back to himself when he heard the music again, closer. The song had the same rolling darkness as before, but as it approached he realized it was in another language.

Chuaigh mé 'na Rosann ar cuairt
Gur bhreathnaigh me uaim an spear
Is thart fá na holeain ó thuaidh
Mar eiht agus cu 'na diaidh

The marshlands ahead were eclipsed in a swirl of dark blue. With his eyes he followed the folds of the material up to the darkness of the Riverperson’s hood.
“Hello,” said Gaster. The Riverperson hummed a minor sequence of notes. Gaster lowered his head again.
“Drowning your thoughts out? Or drowning in your thoughts?”
“I’m just sitting in one place.”
“You should move about more.”
“Alright.” Gaster started to rise, then started at a strange gliding sensation. He was already on the boat, which slipped without a snag into the water. He huffed. “That’s a neat trick. You nearly gave me a soul attack.”
“Excellent. Where shall we go today?”
“Anywhere.”
“That’s a little too broad. Shall we stay in this system?”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
“And you have nowhere to be in the next few days? I may not get you to the right time.”
“…This is not helping. But no.”
“Then, for now, please keep your hands and feet inside the boat.”
“Are we going to go fast?”
“It depends on your awareness of time. Tra la la.”
“I’d prefer to stay in my own time for now, thank you.”
“Then keep your hands and feet inside the boat.”
Gaster looked at the way the Riverperson’s cape swirled out behind them over the flat surface of the boat in heavy, almost liquid folds of deepwater blue and black, like a piece carved from the night sky or dredged from the deeps of the Surface ocean, where light was almost but not quite gone.
“Duly noted,” said Gaster.
“And we’re off….” The boat’s speed increased from a smooth drift to a rapid glide. The bioluminescence of Waterfall’s flora blazed past in flashes across the greater dark. A light precipitation began to fall. Gaster looked over the side of the boat at the shining water streaming past, lined with the speed of their passage. The boat was not sinking down in the water in the way that it should from its weight, but hovering at a height which allowed it to race at this speed without too much resistance.
“Where are we going, then?”
“Tomorrow. Or yesterday?”
“Ugh, boat… monster… person… I’m trying to stay sane for now, if that’s OK? I do have a meeting coming up which I need to be corporeally present for.”
“Duly noted,” said the Riverperson, copying Gaster’s intonation. They were silent for a while. Gaster kept his eyes on the folds of the Riverperson’s cape.
“Do you have a name?”
“Tra la la. Does it matter?”
“Does it? It’s you that’s involved here.”
“No, it’s your desire to call me something concrete. Don’t be so afraid of the void.”
“I’m not afraid of it, I just need to remain in the present in order to be any use to the Underground. Which I haven’t been thus far.”
“You monsters have come up with several nicknames for me already, pick one and see how badly I react to it.”
Gaster thought of a great calmness, a loose, free, floating feeling, and a day in Waterfall, realizing with a start that he was no longer an isolated observer.
“I called you Death when I met you before. Remember?”
“It was there.”
“Is that a name you care for?”
“It’s a common misconception.”
“You’re not Death.”
“I came before. What is Death? I’ve never killed anyone. I merely carry them to the door. Which, as it seems, is an unnecessary function. I haven’t been to the Surface in years. They can show themselves to the door.”
“Oh. You don’t like humans?”
“I’m the ferrier. Boat-rider. Riverperson. Humans are interesting creatures, constantly ruining jobs with their creations. When they ruined mine I lost my patience for carrying them.”
“Oh. How was that? With advances in medicine?”
An infinitely cold laugh rose from the darkness of the hood.
“The power to raise one after millions. No. It was when they repeated the words becoming true, I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.”
“I don’t recognize the significance of that.”
“8-16-45-8:15 at 34° 23′ 40.85″ N, 132° 27′ 16.63″ E”
“What?”
“8-16-45-8:15 at 34° 23′ 40.85″ N, 132° 27′ 16.63″ E. Heading northwest altitude 9470m, coastline quiet, airspace clear. Broad Island place sentient beings roughly 300,000. Banking to return, leaving the plains at the foot of green mountains, back over the flatness of ocean east. 44 seconds falling cold, souls abandoned to gravity. In the retreat, single sudden bump in the air. A great silence. Then they were shouting, shouting, attempting to drown out the sudden silence they saw.”
They were entering a dark part of the caves, bioluminescent patches spaced farther and farther apart in the inky substance that was the underground’s air. Gaster looked at the Riverperson’s reflection in the shining water.
“I was there early, sensing the approaching death, and I thought I had come to the wrong time or place. Quiet streets under morning sky. Smell of breakfast cooking. Small chat, children running on little childish errands. Wartime working and clearing of space. Waking up. Few in the thousands of thousands looking up at the sky before it came. I thought I was in the wrong space in time. I thought I had sensed a battle—so much death had to be a battle, and I was eager to see the fools throwing themselves into a hail of lead, perhaps in a barren white plain where eyes became blinded by driving water like steel, perhaps over hills of death and the flower of sleep. I like battles well enough, though over time, less and less, but I can still appreciate a good massacre between fools and fools… but I was in the wrong place… entirely the wrong time and place.”

They were in utter darkness now, except for the water. Gaster thought vacantly that there were two of them, the reflection and the reality, both gliding swiftly along, the Riverperson kneeling without movement at the head of the boat and Gaster sitting also immobile, but without the Riverperson’s monumental stillness, at the back. Both reflection and reality wrapped in great darkness.

“There were so many in the same instant,” the Riverperson continued. “The same instant. Even in crazed battle the deaths are spread out over different times, not far spaced perhaps to an observer in that time, but I can easily step around, meet them all in their own time. But this was so many in a single instant, and so many following after, and so many. And none holding the gun. Only those few floating shapes flying back away into the great silence of the dawn and the flat green plate seemingly unruffled by waves. None to take the blame or look upon the dead. And lingering, lingering. So few to escape. I crossed the barrier and took to the skies of dark stone and the waters that shine, to live with the Monsters. I carry some. I leave some to find their own way. More and more I leave them to find their own way.”
The Riverperson’s voice had cast a spell over him. Gaster shook himself, returning to the boat in the dark cave from a memory, not his own, of a city burning under a dark cloud at morning.
“I didn’t know that,” he said.
“You like to learn.”
“Yes.”
“So here I am, carrying you on the water’s surface. Don’t worry, I won’t take you all the way. You are close enough.”
“Close, huh.” Gaster looked down at his mangled hands, held together by magic and stubbornness. “How close?”
“How should I know. The ahead is indistinct and rushing. It rushes only towards us, but ever a shifting, shifting haze. How should I pick out a single droplet in a wall of inclosing mist? I do not see your name. I only feel the time when it is about to come, and then I go. Or not. More and more I do not go. I drift on the surface and let them pass me by… We need some light.”
“This is peaceful,” said Gaster. But there was a flicker of white, and huge walls of dripping stone leapt out of the darkness, reaching far above them out of the sudden light’s reach. Gaster tried to see where the light was coming from. It was a species of silver, strangely diffuse. It seemed to cling around the Riverperson’s cloak, although the cloak itself was dark as ever.
“Always nice to see as well as know,” said the Riverperson.
“Yes.”
“I like you. You’ve been cut loose in the stream and you can accept more of what is.” So that was it? The Riverperson felt that they could relate to him more than to other mortals because he’d been scattered across time and space. Interesting.
“I guess that’s true. But I still don’t understand.”
“Do you think I understand?”
“Do you? After years of ferrying the dead to the door—“
“There is no door, after all. They simply leave me without looking back.”
“Where do they go?” Gaster asked because he felt the Riverperson was waiting for the question.
“Nobody has told me. Nobody tells me anything.” The walls dropped away, and the boat entered a vast darkness, where sounds raced away into dulling black without an echo. The stretch of the water’s shining surface became indistinct in the distance. The Riverperson let the boat slow to a gentle glide, spinning as it slowed, and they twisted in place so that the darkness of the hood faced Gaster. “Always upsetting, not knowing what your job is, or whether you’re doing it correctly. Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
The hood nodded.
“All this time I’ve believed I was doing my job, perhaps it was not even my job,” said the Riverperson thoughtfully. “But now when I don’t do my job I wonder if I’m slacking.” A faint sigh escaped the hood. “They can show themselves to the door.”
“You seem bitter.”
“What is bitter but an inversion of sweet? Does either exist in its own right?”
“Yes, I think. I wouldn’t appreciate tea less if coffee stopped existing.”
“But you wouldn’t be able to bask in a feeling of highly cultured superiority when drinking tea, unlike the coffee-swilling plebs.”
“My friend, let me tell you some things about black tea. It is made by boiling the life out of some dried up pieces of tree until you get some kind of soupy substance that looks like ectoplasm. You then strain out most of the dead tree pieces, add sweetener if desired, and put it in a mug which probably has a brownish patina built up on the inside due to repeated tea drinkings. You pour in cream until it’s about the consistency of mud, and you drink it before it gets cold. It’s a drink they invented in the wettest cold place on earth, to keep the shepherds alive on bitter early spring mornings when all the sheep are having birthing difficulties at once and the wind goes through three layers of wool. It is not necessarily any kind of refined.”
The Riverperson chuckled. “No pride at all, then.”
“Er, I don’t—“
“You believe you know yourself.”
“I… don’t know?”
“Rare it is when I carry someone for them to look at the soul below with honest recognition. We are strangers to what we do not know, and we do not know from whence we come. Less and less I believe that we know who we are.”
“You’ve been spending too much time alone in the darkness. It messes with your brain.”
“I don’t have a brain.”
“Neither do I, actually. Just this weird black jelly. Eh?” Gaster poked a finger in his dead eyesocket and flicked a few drops of ectoplasm at the Riverperson. They drew themselves up a bit taller.
“Gaster, really. Don’t be obscene.”
“I wasn’t. Don’t be obstructively vague.”
The Riverperson hummed. They let the boat drift, and Gaster gradually slipped into a state of half-sleep, eyes unfocused. He was awakened by the motion of the Riverperson turning to face the front of the boat.
“You’re hungry. Let’s go home.” They said.
“I am?”
“You should be.” The boat turned slowly, though what it faced in the wide indistinct darkness, Gaster couldn’t tell. “Tra la la. Don’t starve yourself.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
“It’s easy to do when you don’t have a family. But then, perhaps harder, as you are used to it and have a kind of autonomy… Eat your greens.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen shit, Gaster.”
“I uh…. Okay.”
“Tra la la.”

Glimpses of stone and bioluminescence flicked past, and before Gaster could really take in where they were, they were floating in the channel near his house. He climbed out onto the ground. “Thanks.”
“Oranges.”
“Huh?”
“We were naming nouns, were we not?”
“Thank. You. That was um. Interesting?”
Gaster turned to look at the Riverperson, but they were gone. A faint sound of song floated in the steaming air. Gaster huffed. “Well that was a thing.”

He walked into his house, shut the door, lit up the crystals and made himself a pot of very strong tea. He was home.

 

A/N: I’m not dead, surprisingly. Was slightly overwhelmed by various tasks that involved writing things other than fiction. Now, distracted by eating turkey and a variety of excellent pies.

The Riverperson sings part of Young Gods by Halsey and then the Irish Gaelic song Chuaigh me na Rosann, a translation of which (stolen from the internet) is below. Halsey is great but I find some of her songs somewhat obscene, Young Gods is one of them, you been warned. I appreciate her decency (lol) in using actual melody (which is why I can imagine the Riverperson singing this) instead of relying on guitar riffs and the same three notes screeched repeatedly, like a lot of modern music seems to.

Why does the Riverperson sing Halsey? Why does the Riverperson do anything? They are a strange being and they don’t care what you think. They do what they want. And at the moment what they want to do is make you confused. You’re so cute when you’re confused, human.

I went on a visit to the roses
And looked towards the sky
And around the northern islands
Like a deer being followed by a dog.

THINGS WILL HAPPEN in the next chapter, I swear!

Note. Let it be known that the Riverperson’s comments are not me contesting the ethics of August 6 1945 in either direction. I’m not a history buff and I wouldn’t presume. They’re just in shock at the suddenness of all the death.

Next chapter has more Alphys and… drumroll please a…. character whom I still have not named. Help? Please? I need names. Fluffy names, vaguely menacing names. Whatever you’ve got that could be at all Undertale-ish. I may use it later if not now. Yes I will credit you. Happy Thanksgiving break to those of you who get one. The rest of you... sorry, Christmas is soon, here have some tea and relax for a few minutes, it'll be ok. 

Chapter 15: The Problems with Giving Skeletons Checkups

In which a wombat attempts to make this story a medical drama

“He’s here,” said Alphys, standing on the windowsill. Gaster sipped his tea without looking up.
“Good. High time for him to come to work. It’s nearly noon.”
“I don’t like this. He hates you.”
“He dislikes the project. It cramps his style.” Gaster looked up with a smile. “And, inconveniently, it is under his supervision, so he needs to be here to give us a cursory glance. He’ll crawl back into his creepy basement of mad science as soon as he’s run out of ideas of mismanagement to accuse me of.”
“I don’t trust him,” said Alphys, glaring down through the glass. Gaster shuffled his notes with his fingertips.
“Me neither,” he said quietly.
“Oh look,” said Alphy, “It’s that mini-skeleton. He’s here too. Isn’t he a bit late if he’s coming for a checkup?” Gaster chuckled. “What?”
“That sounds about right, is all.”
“Gaster, please don’t tell me you’ve hired a serial latecomer as well as a psychopath.”
“I suspect the first, but not the second.”
“Agh!” she jumped down from the windowsill and ran nervously around the room on all fours, lab coat rippling behind her. “I don’t like this I don’t like this I don’t like any of this!”
“Alphys.” Gaster caught her around the waist and lifted her into his lap. “The lab assistants are not going to kill you, unless you die of disgust at their inexperience. And, once we get through today, we won’t have to deal with Doctor Sir Lord Whiskers the Deathbringer telling us what to do. Hm? At least, not in person. And that will be a relief.” He smiled his crooked smile. Alphys took a deep breath.
“That’s true. Um…. Gaster?”
“Hmm?”
“Your eye is leaking.”
“Oh.” He wiped his right eye and drew his fingertips away dark with ectoplasm. Maybe he was more stressed about this than he realized. He grimaced. “Ugh. Sorry.”
“Oh no no no it’s fine, I mean, i-it’s like, totally fine—I um—i-if you’d rather not go out like that though—“
“Hopefully it won’t happen again.”
“W-well, wait a minute.” Alphys hopped from Gaster’s lap onto the desk, pushed a drawer out and rummaged for a minute, coming up with a loop of black fabric. “Ta-da. Eyepatch.”
“Oh, is that where that went.”
“Yyeah. You uh dropped it, and I put it back in here.”
“Alphys, I think you know the contents of my drawers better than I do.”
“M-maybe because you never come in your office except to dump papers on the floor o-or avoid people?”
“Oh dear, she’s on to me.” He slipped the fabric into place over his skull. It was more like a bandage than a patch, it fit nicely over his blind eye and covered some of the crack above it as well. “How do I look?”
“D-dashing.”
“Oh, I hope I won’t have to do any dashing today. We’ve just got the light system stabilized for the second time this year, if something explodes while I’m giving the safety talk to our newcomers I’m going to scream.”
“N-nothing will e-explode—wait, w-what was that? Oh nothing I’m getting paranoid. Er… hopefully?”

The large female wombat draped sadly over a chair looked up as Sans pushed the door open.
“Oh, so there is a skeleton. I thought it was a prank for sure.”
“I got lost—“
“You’re late.”
“I know. I got lost. Sorry.”
“Well, fortunately for you, the proper mammal after you hasn’t appeared yet either. Get on the table. And take off that ridiculous jacket.”
“Ya know, you could work on your bedside manner.”
“You could work on your punctuality. And maybe grow a skin? What am I supposed to do, here?” the wombat flipped through the papers on her clipboard. “Heart rate? You don’t have a heart. HP?” Sans winced. “There’s a note from Gaster saying that it’s confidential.”
“Oh, really?”
“Hmmph.” She squinted. “Evidently it’s low enough to be concerning, but he discussed risks with you already.”
“Yeah.”
“Right, so… how do you run tests on a skeleton? Do you have saliva?”
“Er, I have ectoplasm.”
“What? Oh, that. Ewww, not touching that.”
“Oh come on it’s not—“
“Why couldn’t we have something simple, like that nice little dog? I can’t take your temperature either, can I? Do skeletons have temperature? I’m going to take a bone marrow sample, by the way. I mean I know you can be burned if the fire is very very hot, can you be frozen?”
“Yeah kinda it’s—wait, you’re going to do what?—AAAAGH!”
“Bone marrow sample. Can’t take a blood sample, but this is close enough. I can probably figure out some way to run the standard health tests on bone marrow—humm, I look forward to explaining that one upstairs. I’ll tell ‘em you were squirming too much.”
“That HURT!”
“Of course it hurt it’s a bone marrow sample. It’ll hurt more the longer you complain about it. How come you’re so short? It’s like you were a normal skeleton and then someone stepped on you.” She had been pouring healing magic into the wound while talking, and now she deftly bandaged it with magic-infused fabric, which glowed a faint green at the edges. Sans realized that in his surprise and insult, he hadn’t noticed the pain very much. Huh. He couldn’t say he liked her method, but she was on to something. Still, he didn’t like the puncture in his brittle ulna, or the thin crack spreading above it. He’d have to be careful for a few days.
His HP, which he checked surreptitiously while the wombat’s back was turned, quivered at .85.
“Now I’m supposed to ask for your tensile strength. Is that a thing for skeletons? How do you test that? Break a rib?”
“No! Tap with a hammer and measure the vibrations in the bone with”
“OK, don’t know how to do that, not supposed to anyway, we’re good long as you remember what yours was?”
“2.3.”
“You sure? Good, we’re making progress after all. Ugh, I can muddle my way through with any ordinary monster, I don’t care how weirdly it’s shaped, but this? You? You’re mostly made of magic!”
She kept talking without commenting on his low tensile strength—the reason he’d cracked so easily. So she really didn’t deal with many skeletons.
“You’re listed as a LV 1,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“So you’re a pacifist.”
“Until provoked.” She looked questioningly at him. “So far I’ve avoided killing anyone, but I can imagine circumstances in which it would become necessary.”
“Neutral, then.”
“If you say so.”
“You don’t care, and that’s definitely Neutral.”
“Is alignment something which goes on record? That’s kind of hard to define.”
“It’s not, but LV is, and I like to know a bit about the reasons, seeing as how I’m probably going to be the one stitching you back together if you antagonize something nasty.”
“I see.”
The checkup had to be mostly over; she was fast at least, whatever else she was. Sans was just starting to relax when he noticed his magic flaring. He tensed, but before he could do anything else his eye blazed and bluish lightning arced across the room. The wombat, who was facing him, witnessed the whole display and became suddenly speechless. Sans grimaced.
“Whoops sorry about that. It’s not dangerous. And, uh, it’s usually not that extreme, I think it bounced off the table. There’s a reason I wear my jacket all the time, heh. Can I put it back on now?”
The wombat took a moment to collect herself before speaking, and when she did, it was in a quieter, more professional voice than she had previously used. It managed to make Sans even more uncomfortable than he already was.
“Does this happen often?”
“Eh kinda.” Sans shrugged into his jacket.
 “That’s extremely concerning.”
“It’s not dangerous. It’ll give you a shock if you’re standing next to me and I’m just in an undershirt or something but the jacket is pretty good insulation”
“I mean for you, jellybrain. Magic malfunctions like that are usually only seen in very old or very young monsters. Otherwise, it could mean your soul is imperfectly bonded to your body. I suggest you talk to your own doctor about this.”
“Is this a suggestion I can ignore, or”
“No.” he took a look at her expression and understood that she’d cause trouble for him later if he ‘forgot’ to do what she said.
“OK, right, I’ll uh, get that checked out.” The wombat was rifling through her papers again.
“Hmm. You’re younger than I thought, maybe it’s not that. Your magic could still be developing. Still, I’ve never known malfunctions this extreme to occur under normal circumstances.” Well that just figures, thought Sans. “Is this your first job, then? Lucky.”
“It’s not.”
“Really? It should be,” said the wombat, looking narrowly from Sans’ recorded age to his face. Sans grinned blandly and said nothing. “Oh alright, we’ve all got to live as best we can.”
“Amen,” said a doggish voice from outside the door, which had cracked itself open a moment before.
“Is this a good time, or am I interrupting a melodrama?”
“Oh, you’re that darned mammal!” said the Wombat. “Get in here, you’re late.”
“I got lost,” said the wolf outside the door, sidling in.
“That’s what this guy said.”
“Maybe because it’s easy to get lost in here? Hey, it’s a mini-Gaster.”
“Hey, it’s the big bad wolf,” said Sans.
“Why thank you,” said the new monster, straitening his shirt. Unlike Sans, who had rolled out of bed and into some variety of clothes while still half-asleep that morning, he was dressed neatly, with an open-collared cream shirt over his natural ruff of steely fur. His eyes were narrow and golden like a fox’s. “Where do you hail from? I haven’t seen many skeletons around.”
“Heh, me neither. Snowdin. What about you?”
“Oh, that’s somethin’. My pack lives up in the deepwood beyond Snowdin, close to the cave wall.”
“Hey, that’s neat. I know a few of the sentry dogs, are they any relatives of yours?”
“Distantly, perhaps, but not any that I—“ the wolf cut off in a sharp yelp as the wombat surreptitiously jammed a needle into his forearm. “Ouch!”
“Oh be quiet, it only hurts if you think about it,” she said, rubbing the wound with a sterilizing cloth.
“She does it when you’re not expecting it,” said Sans. The wolf rolled his golden eyes toward the wombat with a mixture of disgust and respect.
“Sneaky. It takes some skill to surprise me like that.”
“Oh yes, I quaver before your predatory instincts, see me shiver? Brrrr,” said the wombat sarcastically, shuffling around the room depositing samples and collecting papers. “You’re Yoro, right?”
“At your service.”
“And her mercy,” said Sans.
“Get out, you,” said the wombat, “This is about to get confidential and you’re already going to be late.”
“Nah, I don’t care,” said Yoro, flinging himself down across the table with his head on his paws, “I ain’t got nothin’ to hide, and showing up late is always less embarrassing when you’re with someone else. Then you can both say you’re not the last.”
“Wise words, mister wolf,” said Sans, hoisting himself up into a chair that seemed to have been built for an ostrich. The wombat shrugged.

Yoro’s temperature was normal, and weight ‘slightly underfed,’ as the wombat put it, although Yoro protested that he ran it all off in the woods and that consequently he was built of muscle, bone and suaveness.
“LV?”
“Four. Lot of creepy crawlies out in the woods there.”
“Uh-huh. They wander into town sometimes, though, too, don’t they?”
“Oh sure. They like terrorizing Snowdin, I think. The sentries just kinda avoid them unless they cause trouble.” 
“Mm-hmm.” The wombat did not look at him, but Sans could feel her judging him, and mentally amending the neutral designation. He didn’t particularly care one way or the other, but it made him the slightest bit uncomfortable to be under such intense scrutiny. Yoro’s HP was a respectable 50, and he said he was training to make it higher.
“What are you,” asked the wombat, “A guard?”
“Kinda, sorta, repairman and night watchman and all around handymonster. Will it make me shed much, do you think?” Yoro asked, the tip of his beautifully fringed tail wagging gently in concentration.
“The job?”
“Living in the Hotlands.”
“Oh, probably. You’ll adapt.”
“Hmph. I’ll look a mess when I go home for visits, and I’ll have to bundle up in coats like the poor reptiles.”
“Your loss, fluffy.”

Gaster and Alphys still hadn’t left Gaster’s office.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of in meeting your own subordinates, Alphys.”
“I know that! You know I know and I’m, I’m perfectly fine, now, see except, I-I just g-get nervous sometimes for no real reason and—it’s so strange, being down by your ankles—“
“It is strange, but I can’t think what else would be practical.”
“I could ride on your shoulder!”
Gaster, who’d been wandering around the room with his hands in his pockets, turned to look at her with a gentle one-sided smile.
“That would be undignified, Alphys.”
“No it wouldn’t. And I’d be with you.”
“Alright. Climb up.” He leaned against the desk and Alphys clambered up his jacket and seated herself on his shoulder, one arm on the top of his skull. Gaster chuckled. “Well, we must be a sight.”
“To victory, noble science steed!”
“Ha. Alphys—do you mind moving to my other shoulder? That’s my weak one, I was forgetting.”
“Oh no not at all of course! Sorry!”
“It wasn’t bothering me, but it might have later—wait a moment, are we late for our own review?”
“….Yep. Yep, we are.”
“Brilliant.”
“I am a terrible assistant.”
“Yes, Alphys, you’re the reason I ever leave my room, or my house for that matter. What a jerk. If only you weren’t so motivating, monsterkind would have one less bungling idiot to put up with it, but as it is, I have at least a few hundred explosions and experiments-gone-wrong lying in wait for me yet before I keel over from excitement and sleep deprivation. Literally the worst monster ever.”
“S-stop.”
“No really, I’d be lost without you. Probably literally. Am I even going the right way? Where are we?”

 

A/N: Welp this got longer and more talky than planned, I didn’t even bring in the character I was referring to (except obliquely and under a sarcastic name instead of his real one) but here’s a feisty medic wombat and some wolfish dude

Oh, and about ectoplasm, no it doesn’t make Gaster marginally dumber to lose some of it Lynja Fairy, it’s kinda like blood, it’s replaceable—as long as you don’t lose such a huge amount at once that you just die (also like blood.)

Also I added a few songs to the playlist, (yes this is a thing still? I dunno, I’m having fun with it, but SharaX is taking the thing over and that’s a problem,) a beautiful Waterfall arrangement, a nice cheerful song about depression, and possibly a reference to a character who will eventually appear maybe possibly maybe. Then again we all know how much sense (ahuhuhuhu) I usually make so maybe it’s just there because I like it and for no other reason. heeeeeere

Chapter 16: You May Pet the Fluffy Dragon but Please Do Not Feed it Bread

In which the wombat is still trying. 

Sans and Yoro met Gaster at the door.
“Oh, hello Doctor! And here I thought I was late,” said Yoro, squeezing through the door behind him. Sans, looking up, made eye contact with the elevated Alphys and waved. She did not wave back.
 “You are late,” said Gaster, “It just so happens that I am also late.” He surveyed the room. A small crowd of monsters looking quizzically at him, a few chairs covered in an unspecified further number of vibrating Temmies, and a painting of the Surface sky by someone who, it was subtly apparent, had never seen it. “Hello,” he said. “If you had any ideas about science in the Underground being conducted in an organized and orderly fashion, you may leave now.” No one left, fortunately. “If you are not coming to Hotland with us and you don’t know what you’re doing here, you may leave.” A ghost who’d wandered in sank backwards through the wall with an embarrassed expression. Gaster looked at the vibrating Temmies, wondering how to make this more obvious. “If you are a friend or relative of someone coming to Hotland to work on the CORE, please wait outside.” Perhaps half of the Temmies sadly vibrated their way out of the room at this. Gaster was left looking at the remainder and wracking his brains. He took a deep breath. “If you are an acquaintance, frenemy, rival, distantly related cousin of any degree, admirer or stalker of anyone coming to Hotland to work on the CORE, please wait outside.” The rest of the Temmies left sadly, leaving two, one on each chair. Gaster directed his attention to the one on the left. “And who are you?”
“Hoi DoCToR!11!1 yOU diDN’T mentioN oLd jiLtED loVERSS?!”
“Tem Get Out you was Never a Jilted Loverr,” squeaked the Temmie on the opposite chair. The jilted (?) Temmie hopped down and left the room with a sad whine. Gaster sighed and turned to face the single remaining Temmie.
“Hello, JanetTem.”
“HOi Doctor. SorRy about my frens.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think I recognize the rest of you,” said Gaster, smiling at the remaining twenty-six monsters.
“I’m Dr. Gaster, head of the mostly nonexistent Physics department. It's like a quantum particle. It both exists and doesn't exist until it's observed, which is rare. The lovely lizard on my shoulder is Dr. Alphys, my personal assistant. If something goes and does something it’s not supposed to and I’m not there to poke it for you, go to her. She doesn’t like loud noises, so please be considerate. While we’re on the subject, Sans here has low HP, so don’t play any physically harmful pranks, please. Suddenly gaining unexpected EXP because your bucket of water was too heavy is bad. No one laughs. Does anyone else have problems they’d like to mention?”
“I’m gluten intolerant,” said a fluffy white dragon.
“I really like the sound of my own voice!” said a small flame monster, perched arms akimbo on the back of one of the chairs.
“Alright, ”
“HEATS! FLAMESMAN!”
“…Don’t do that indoors.”
“SORRY!”
Gaster questioned his life choices. Well, nothing to do but keep going.
“As you should already know, I’m trying to build a CORE large enough to bring dependable electric power to the whole Underground. Magic electricity can travel longer distances without power loss than the ordinary kind, so this is feasible, given the CORE itself, of course. For reasons I cannot fathom, King Asgore and the Royal Scientist, Dr. Suger, are unimpressed with this idea, despite grudgingly admitting that my plans look like they should work, so it is entirely due to nagging from my lovely assistant here that I’ve gotten permission to try to build a working prototype, leading to us being here. I don’t expect the first one to work. Or the second one. Whis—I mean, Dr. Suger will probably shut us down after a while. Then again, maybe not, and maybe after making a bunch of the messy kind of explosions we can get a controlled reaction going. Hmm? If any of you find any of this the slightest bit offputting, I’ve intentionally left enough time from today until the rendezvous to allow you to give notice.” Pause. “I probably had something else to say, but I forgot it. Any questions?” There was an awkward pause. “Oh, right, there was—“

Gaster was interrupted by the door swinging open, closely followed by a wheezing wombat.
“GASTER”
“Hello Mary, we’re a bit busy.”
“WE HAVE A PROBLEM”
“We have a lot of problems, not least of which is your untimely entrance.”
“SKELETONS GASTER”
“Wombats Mary. Can you tell me later?”
“I WAS RESEARCHING IT BECAUSE THIS IS COMPLETELY NEW TO ME AND HIS TENSILE STRENGTH IS ENTIRELY TOO LOW! I SHOULDN’T HAVE TAKEN THAT BONE MARROW SAMPLE! AS A MATTER OF FACT, HE SHOULD BE ON STRICT BEDREST!”
“Mary, calm down. This is against confidentiality.”
“No it’s not.”
“Have you noticed that there are only two skeletons in the room?”
“Alright, I don’t care. This is bad.”
“It’s really not. Tensile strength can read as low for all kinds of reasons.”
“Like being at death’s door, for example?”
“For example, my tensile strength reads as a zero, because I have so many cracks which haven’t healed due to spatio-temporal soul weirdness. Would you mind leaving us? No, wait. Mary, this is my team, minus any who chicken out before we can get to Hotland. In theory you’ve already met them all. Team, this is Dr. Mary, don’t follow my bad example and forget her title. She’s coming with us as resident patcher-upper in case any of you get into duels. Which, by the way, is strictly prohibited. That’s another thing I was going to say that I forgot.”
“How are you alive?!”
“Thank you, Mary. Goodbye.”
“There shouldn’t be such a thing as a zero reading, that means you’re dust!”
“Mary?”
“Alright, goodbye, Doctor. I still think this is an emergency which should be addressed.”
“Everyone seems to be alive, so let’s hope that it isn’t. And if anyone else is going to barge in—“ Gaster, turning to watch her leave, jumped in surprise. Dr. Suger had come in quietly while she was shouting and was standing just behind him. “Never mind.”
Sans just caught the swear barely enunciated on Gaster’s fingers.
“And this,” said Gaster, stepping back and to the side to leave Suger in the center, “Is the Royal Scientist, Dr. Suger.”
“Gaster,” said Suger. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“What I always wear.”
“That’s not acceptable lab wear.”
Gaster opened his mouth and then shut it, apparently having lost his voice, and instead chose to look fixedly at Suger’s own clothes—a Hawaiian shirt and fuzzy shorts. With a lab coat, for no particular reason, as he didn’t seem to be working.
“We’re not in the lab proper,” observed Alphys. Suger started.
“Oh, it’s Alphys. I thought it was a terrible scarf. I’ll forgive you that much, but you’re still a walking snag and spill hazard. Take off the coat. And the… face-scarf.”
Gaster gave him a final stare, then complied, careful not to dislodge Alphys from her perch in the process. Removing the eyepatch left a streak of ectoplasm across his cheekbone. He folded the coat and draped it across one of the chairs which had been left vacant by the retreat of the Temmies. He looked much smaller without it, spindly and awkward.
“That’s better,” said Suger. “Now, what I came for. Husk, get in here.”
A certain high-LV husky whom Gaster knew without knowing stepped in promptly. Husk, thought Gaster. What is it with dogs and giving terrible names? This one looked whipped.
“This is the new head of security,” said Suger.
“I’ve heard,” said Gaster, a cold feeling in his soul. “But I thought I was handling my own security.”
“Oh, you are, but he’ll swing by sometimes, just make things are shipshape, you know?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. You may go, Husk.”
Husk nodded to Suger and left with the same promptness with which he had entered. Suger turned to face the other monsters. He took a few steps forward and gazed at them with a frown, arms folded across his chest. He was a white rabbit with alarming watermelon pink eyes. After several moments of silence, he spoke to Gaster again.
“I had expected to find a few weak links in your chain, Gaster, but… I have to congratulate you. This chain is entirely made up of weak links.”
“    .” Gaster, after a pause, came forward and found his voice. “You know what they say about chains.”
“No?”
“The links tend to hold, as long as you don’t wear them down.”
Suger turned his head sideways to look up at Gaster with one watery pink eye. Gaster held his gaze. Sans quietly appreciated the alarming speed at which they had gone from ‘and this is my annoying coworker’ to ‘please die a painful death at your earliest convenience.’ There was history here. From the delivery of Gaster’s last comment he guessed that he didn’t like how Suger treated his assistants.
“That’s nice,” said Suger, and tilting his head upright, again surveyed the twenty-six monsters. His eyes fixed on JanetTem. “Gaster. That’s a Temmie.” Gaster nodded. “Why is it in here?”
“Conceivably because I hired her.”
“Why?”
“She’s excellent at bookkeeping.”
“Oh, it’s a secretary. I guess I’ll accept that, though I question your taste. Surely even on your budget there must have been something better?”
“Better?” said Gaster blandly.
“And I suppose the herd waiting out in the hall and listening to everything we say are here to celebrate the unprecedented elevation of one of their kind.”
“It’s called a flutter.”
“What?”
“A group of temmies is called a flutter.”
“If you say so. As for this one, I hope you don’t let it out of its cubicle too often. This is an important and possibly dangerous mission.”
“And so everyone should stay indoors?” for the first time, Gaster’s voice was tainted with sarcasm, although his face remained serene.
“That’s not what I said. I don’t want it bungling around in the construction zone, and”
“I think JanetTem possesses as much common sense about not licking live wires as anyone else here.”
“That’s believing a lot of a debased life form with an extra pair of vestigial ears.”
Suger was still standing with his back to Gaster, and suddenly his head snapped backwards. Gaster had grabbed him by the ears and yanked, so that Suger was forced look upwards into his face, which was still calm.
“ W a s  t h a t  r a c i s m , D O C T O R ? ”
His voice, generally low but soft, had changed to the rumbling snarl made by two boulders crashing together in a deep cavern. He allowed his magic to flare, filling the room. The effect of both was so compelling that even Suger was speechless for a moment.
“ Y o u  d o  r e m e m b e r  w h y  w e  w e r e  t r a p p e d  h e r e  i n  t h e  f i r s t  p l a c e , y e s ? ”
He let go and relaxed, and the magic in the room mellowed a bit, but remained present. It wrapped all of the monsters – except Suger, on whom it lay like a lead blanket – in a feeling of security and wellbeing. Suger rubbed his ears with exaggerated tenderness and slowly turned to face Gaster.
“Gaster.” he said kindly. “Are you sure you’re well enough to do this?”
There were a lot of things Gaster could have said to this, but he remained silent, and attempted to put his hands in his coat pockets. He wasn’t wearing his coat. After a moment of confusion, he settled for his pants pockets.
“As I’ve told you, I doubt whether you need the stress, after all your… never mind. I’ll schedule a final consultation for you before you leave, to make sure you’re fit.”
“If you insist,” said Gaster quietly, cocking his head.
“I think it’s necessary.” Suger stroked his whiskers. “Well, that’s all for now. I’ll leave you alone.” He walked out the door and started for his office.

He found his progress blocked by a vibrating wall of angery faces and superfluous ears.

Gaster ran a hand over his skull and, feeling something on his fingers, looked down. It was ectoplasm. He rubbed the sleeve of his sweater across his dead eye and it came away slimy. He winced.

Tavi had done that once, before he knew how fragile skeletons could be, and he’d thought the kid was dying

Children on the hill

……

He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, he just wanted to go home and seal everything out when did he ever think this was a good idea it was clear no one wanted him here they preferred a powerless underground no one wanted the light

Just look at your hands,” Grillbz told the shivering, bloodied siren, and “seal everything else out it’s not real

Leaves like amber, wind like chilled cutting water, hilltop above the world

But he was falling falling into darkness as his body broke down around him and there was no tree, no sky, no kind human child

Look at your hands. Focus.

“No, don’t look at the ground, look at me.”
His hands, shattered, lying in soft white paws. Below, floor of living gold. He raised his eyes.
“That’s it. Walk forwards.”
If he fell, she would catch and hold him, and that was nice in its own way, but he didn’t want to disappoint her, either, and he shuffled forwards, catching flower stems between his toes

He pushed open the doors to the library, which had been gutted, the contents burned. So much dust. It lay in the morning sun like mist. His dust should be here, mingling with the rest. He shouldn’t have stayed away. He shouldn’t have obeyed.

He tripped. She caught him. He was tempted to remain there, where everything was golden light and white fur and warmth, and he wasn’t expected to do anything heroic, just take a few steps.

He couldn’t

Amber leaves falling from somewhere above him from a world of light, lost now

Alphys had stretched across his shoulders for more stability. He could see the end of her tail hanging down over his left shoulder. She was shaking—not enough that it would be obvious to the others, but he could feel it.

The room snapped into focus around him.

He’d only lost a few seconds. Good.

He took a deep breath.
“And that was the Royal Scientist, my superior. He thinks I’m unstable.” He hesitated, and gave a half-smile. “It has been hypothesized that he does not like me.”

 

A/N: Welp, Sugar, you literally asked for it. S: “there are a bunch of temmies outside the door listening to everything we say it’s annoying” also S: “I’m going to be racist towards temmies just to mess with my subordinate here because nothing else is getting a rise out of him”

And no, a flutter of temmies did not just assassinate the Royal Scientist, although that would have been quite a sight to see, not to mention incredibly convenient for the main characters. They just stood there vibrating intensely and giving him judgmental looks.

Thank you for the name idea FroZtBite, (and everyone else who reviewed/commented!) I considered calling Husk Mallows, so I could make a ‘Sugar and Marshmallows” joke about him and Suger, but decided against it. I may use it later, though not Mallory, which is a more blatantly human name, and I try to avoid using human names for monsters. (she said, at the end of a chapter which has a Mary in it. THAT’S AN EXCEPTION. She wanted her name to be Mary. Specifically Mary.)

Also, I’ll just say it now, Galphys is not a thing is this. Not even slightly. Please do not.

Thanks to my real world friends too. Speedy Jellyfish gave me the nonexistent physics department joke, and the fluffy dragon is based on Dragonlairds, a friend of mine whom I share nutritional difficulties with. 

Chapter 17: Hot Chocolate is Actually Not the Same Thing as Hot Cocoa and Tahoma likes BOTH (as long as you put lots of sugar in the cocoa)

In which the wombat is bashed for doing her job. Respect the wombat y'all. 

He made it back to his office.

Reality blacked out somehow, and then he was in his chair, and Alphys was sitting up on his desk, rubbing her hands together. Seeing her shiver brought him back to himself, and he smiled.
“Well. That’s over.” He said. Alphys nodded and steadied herself, and again Gaster was left to his own mind.  He didn’t like it there.

He had no power here. Well, wasn’t like he spent his time at home pretending that he was supreme lord of the Underground, but at least no one attacked him there. Unless it was a kitten in a frisky mood who found his toe bones fascinating. He just wanted to go home. But first he had to calm down. He felt too tense to walk through the halls, possibly meeting monsters and having to endure small talk. Was this how Alphys felt, when she hid behind his leg and let him do the talking? She was better at it, but that wasn’t the problem, was it? She just couldn’t.

“You look u-upset,” said Alphys. Gaster nodded.
“I hate seeing that doctor he’s got watching me, and I hate what’s happened to the medical field, and frankly the pharmaceutical division scares me. I’d rather not touch any of it with a ten foot pole, and now I have to go down there and nicely explain to them that no, I am not psychotic, please leave me alone, thank you, goodbye.”
“He…. w-was blatantly manipulating you. Y-you shouldn’t have let him.”
“Let him? Some things are simply not acceptable. I don’t think I did anything out of place.”
“Yeah, but-“
“You know this guy, Alphys. Do you think anything less would have made him shut up? He was going to go around the room insulting everyone until someone snapped. Would you rather I have waited until he got to you?” Alphys was silent. Suger terrified her. They’d have unpleasant encounters before. Gaster sighed. “Well. What are you doing after this?”
“Going home, w-watching anime, have some soda and drink to forget.”
“Hmm. Excellent idea. I’m going to sulk in here for a few more minutes, then I’m going to go home, have some tea, and fall into the void for a few hours.”
“Sounds fun. Be safe.”
“I will. You too. Don’t drink too much soda. It rots your bones.”
“Haha, yeah.”

“SANS!”
Papyrus was at the door almost before Sans could close it.
“Hey, Paps. How was the day?”
“STRANGE. I WAS ALL ALONE, BUT I KNEW YOU WERE COMING BACK TONIGHT. BUT THEN I REMEMBERED THAT IN A FEW DAYS YOU ACTUALLY WON’T BE COMING BACK FOR A LONG TIME AND IT WAS—STRANGE.”
“Heh, yeah, that’s the one thing I’m not looking forward to. Takes all day to get to Hotland, though.”
“IT’S GOING TO BE WEIRD. HAVE YOU EVER NOT LIVED IN THE SAME HOUSE WITH ME? I DON’T THINK YOU HAVE.”
Sans, for his part, was more concerned about Papyrus. He had a point, he’d never been on his own before. Sans trusted him to take care of himself on a basic level—if he were really in danger of burning the house down it probably would have happened already—but he’d be lonely. Somehow, despite his bright personality, he didn’t have many friends, and Sans regretted leaving him alone.
“You’ll figure it out,” said Sans. “The Great Papyrus always does. I’ll call you every night, OK? If you’re not busy.”
“EXCELLENT! WE HAVE AN AGREEMENT.” Papyrus stuck out his hand. Sans put his hand in his and Papyrus gave it a vigorous wring that raised and lowered Sans’s whole arm.
“Right. Hey, remind me, I need to go see Dogene tomorrow.”
“OH REALLY? ANY PARTICULAR REASON?”
“Yeah. The lady who did the checkup is paranoid, I need him to give me some kind of waiver saying that I’m not going to fall over dead from a bad soul connection.”
“OH. IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG?”
“No more than the usual, pal. Anyway, it’ll be good to see Dogene again before I go.”
“OH YES, HE’S VERY FOND OF YOU!”
“He’s fond of you, too. You should have a chat or two with him while I’m gone, it’ll help you both bear being deprived of the joy and sunshine of my presence.”
“IT WILL.”
“Heh. Not gunna argue that?”
“NO. I MISSED YOU, SANS! YOU WERE ONLY GONE FOR A DAY AND I MISSED YOU!”

Dogene, the town doctor, was an ancient dog with long drooping ears and whiskers, and his white fur was dull and wiry, like ancient frost which has grown caked for years over a rock. He lived behind his office, which was almost never used. He met Sans in his living room with two cups of hot cocoa.
“So you’re leaving us again, hm? I’ve gotten used to having you around. It’ll be far too quiet.”
“With Sentry Papyrus on duty? Are you kidding me?”
“Hmm, yes. How is he doing?”
“Same as ever. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“Mm.” Dogene smiled at him and Sans sipped his cocoa. It was almost bizarre to be back here again. He’d come full circle—his family had lived in Snowdin when he was very young.
“Didn’t you shout at my dad once for finishing my hot cocoa for me without asking if I was done with it?” Dogene gave a scratchy barking laugh.
“Oh yes, I believe I did. Funny how it all comes back. Good gracious you were small then. Talkative fellow, wasn’t he? Almost had to pry him out of the chair with a crowbar once he started talking about something.”
“He liked you.”
“He did, but I don’t flatter myself. Tahoma liked everyone. Even your mother.”
“Excuse you!”
Dogene coughed, but Sans thought it sounded like another laugh.
“Oh, she was a wonderful lady, what I mean is that it took some love and tenacity to see under the surface. They were two very different kinds of wonderful. It always fascinates me, seeing how married couples get along… almost makes me wish I’d tried it out. Well, well. So what’s this problem you’ve been having?”
“Huh? Oh. I haven’t, it’s just—“ Sans described his dilemma. Dogene nodded.
“Hmm, yes. Well. I’ve been checking your body-soul connection for years, if you’ve got a problem with it it’s certainly appeared quite suddenly.” He sniffed. “Well, no problem with being certain. Let’s see it.”
Sans wriggled out of his shirt and jacket and manifested his soul. Dogene gave him a quick examination, mumbling to himself.
“Your connection is perfectly strong. I don’t know what your young lady was thinking. A wombat, eh?” he sniffed, half-squinting one eye.
“Well—I have been having magic malfunctions, so”
“Oh have you! Why didn’t you tell me? In that case, it’s a rookie mistake.” He coughed and took a triumphant swallow of hot cocoa. Sans smiled. “Magic malfunctions can occur for any variety of strange reasons, no reason for her to blame your soul. Pff! Anyway. We should probably check on that, actually. How long has it been going on?”
“Oh er—few months?”
“Has anything else changed about your magic?”
“Yeah, I’ve got telekinesis now, but I’m still figuring it out.”
“Really! Show me.”
Sans pointed at a pen lying on the table. It trembled slightly, but otherwise did nothing. Sans frowned, focused, and the pen suddenly shot up to the ceiling in a blaze of cyan light. Dogene laughed and clapped.
“Well, that’s dandy! You can put it down now.”
“I’m, uh, actually not holding it.”
“Really?” Dogene adjusted his glasses and looked up at the pen attached to the ceiling.
“Yeah, remember that part about ‘I’m still figuring it out’?”
“…Will it come down?”
“Eventually. Probably.”
“Well. There we go. Your telekinesis is, how would you say this, wacked out. Nothing’s wrong with your soul.”
“That’s a relief,” said Sans dryly, frowning at the pen.
“I’ll just write a helpful note to our brilliant young wombat friend for you.” Dogene hummed happily as he searched his desk for another pen.

The phone rang as Sans was preparing to go. He waved, expecting that Dogene would have to talk to someone, but Dogene held up his paw, and he paused in the doorway. Dogene listened for a while and then put the phone down.
“Stay here.”
“Why? Oh don’t tell me, is it a crawl…” he looked at Dogene’s face. “It’s not a crawler? What is it?”
“A human.”
“What?”
“There’s a human in the woods on the side near the cave wall. It seems to be heading for the town, and it’s hostile. Supposedly it’s killed several monsters already. Stay inside, the sentries will deal with it.”
Sans sprinted for the door.
“Sans! You’re not a sentry anymore!”
“My brother is.”
Dogene followed him into the street.
“Sans get inside! Papyrus can handle himself!”
“Yeah. Sure. You go inside, I need to find him.”
“Sans…” Dogene shook his head. “Be careful. I’ll be sitting by the phone until I hear that everyone’s safe.”
“I will, don’t worry.” Sans waved and took off running. Dogene sighed, stepped backwards into his office and locked the door.

 

A/N: So my brain wasn’t doing the thing, recently, because I was having finals. The thing, you know the thing? Where it comes up with words and I’m like ‘that would look good as a CORE chapter’ ? It wasn’t doing the thing because it was too stressed so nothing happened. But now I’ve only got 2 English finals left and I can ace those things with minimal studying so it’s working again, here’s a chapter.

Oh, I did get a oneshot done, about Sans and Pap’s childhood.

Playlist changelog

-moved some things around

-Added 6 songs

Unity kinda sums up the hope of that one isolated moment on the hill in the sun, with the children playing together. The hope that the monsters can get out without bloodshed and everything will be alright and everyone can live together in peace and be happy… This song followed by some more angst because really.

Hhhhh. I’d like to say that the whole playlist tells a story or something, but that’s blatantly not true, as a whole it’s just a mess. But taken in small groups, how individual songs are grouped does show some sort of logic. At least, in my head.

Chapter 18: Thanks and Oranges

In which oranges.

Sans wheezed. He really wasn’t the best at running, and without his consciously intending to slow down, his legs were moving slower and slower. But the human was out there, somewhere up ahead, and therefore Papyrus, who would be trying to stop them, because he was a hero, right? And this human was dangerous, right? And that’s what heroes did. They protected others.

Their family had had far too many heroes in it already. Sans was sick of them.

Should he call out? Papyrus might answer, but it might attract the human. Then again, maybe it would scare the human away. He didn’t know how hostile the human was, maybe it just wanted to be left alone. There was no way to know. But then, humans had a bad track record with monsters and murder, didn’t they. He wasn’t inclined to be hopeful.

Sans was grudgingly considering stopping for a breather when he heard a familiar sound up ahead. A hum of magic, a shift of displaced snow. He sped up, stumbling a little.
“HUMAN! ER—YOU ARE THE HUMAN, YES?”
“Shit shit shit shit shit.”
“STOP! YOU SHALL NOT ENTER SNOWDIN”
“Papyrus!” shouted Sans. There was a building between him and the sounds, he couldn’t see. A ludicrous thought flashed into his mind: it wasn’t the human at all, it was some sort of unusual monster, Papyrus was being heroic for nothing, nobody was in danger. He kept running, and as he neared the corner he heard a voice that sent shivers down his spine. It was undeniably mammalian, but it had a kind of warm, solid, pounding force to it that he’d never heard. It was a quality similar to Gaster’s voice when he spoke commandingly, but utterly alien. Terrifying.
“Get out of my way.”
It was, he realized belatedly, a child’s voice. Only a child? He skidded around the corner. Papyrus was standing behind a wall of bones, arms spread, glaring down at a small, semi-hairless biped with an orange bandanna. No, the child was orange, in their essence—he understood, somehow, as he looked at them. That’s right, humans had colored souls, didn’t they?
“NO, HUMAN, YOU MUST SURRENDER! I WILL NOT HURT YOU—“
“Thanks, but you need to move, or I might hurt you. I’m going to the castle.”
Papyrus opened his mouth, but before he could speak—
“AAAAAAAAAAAAPAPAAAAAAYRUUUUUS!”
“SA—SANS NO!” Sans sprinted straight through the magic bones, feeling the damage snap across his bones as they disintegrated around him. Papyrus had excellent control of his magic, he’d brought the damage down to fractional HP as soon as he saw Sans, as Sans had known he would. Now there was nothing between him and the human. The human. It was staring at him now, fists up, eyes large and dark and glittering.

One moment froze in perfect clarity, outside of time, outside of thought, when he was flying towards the human, and there was no sound but the crunch of his feet in the snow and the human panting.

He dove sideways, wrapping the human in his magic, and used his momentum to fling them as hard as he could, then plowed face first into a snow poff. He clawed his way out quickly and stood, alert, not sure how far he’d actually flung them.

…There was nothing there. He stared. Had he not actually thrown them? Had they gotten past him?

From the woods, there was a thud, and a cry. Snow trickled down from one of the trees, quickly followed by a limp body, which disappeared into a snowdrift. Sans gaped. He’d thrown them that far? Had he killed them?

Seconds passed, then the crust of snow was broken and an orange bandana appeared. The human coughed. Sans, breathing again, turned and found Papyrus staring at him.
“SANS? THAT WASN’T FAIR OF YOU! THEY WERE GOING TO SURRENDER! WELL, OR FIGHT ME.”
“Papyrus what are you doing here?” Sans started towards Papyrus and his knees wobbled under him. He realized he was shaking.
“DEFENDING THE TOWN! I’M A SENTRY!”
“I don’t care. Get home and lock the door.”
“BUT SANS!”
“That thing is a nano-scaled killing machine, you fucking listen to me!”
“SANS! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE SUCH CRUDE LANGUAGE AND YOU KNOW IT!”
“You’re concerned about my language, now? Right now? Language! Go home!” Screamed Sans, breaking into a final panic-fueled sprint. He tried to fling Papyrus from him as he had the human, and suddenly he was plowing face first into yet another snow poff, several yards down the street, with Papyrus beside him. Huh. Weird. He must’ve caught himself in his own magic, he didn’t think that that was possible. He probably couldn’t do it again if he tried. There was a crash, and he jumped up to see Papyrus entangled with a trashcan. He’d be fine. Especially if it kept him from running back to the human. Where was that human? Sans spun, and found the human reeling back towards the town, resolutely rubbing its back where it had connected with the rough tree bark.
“SANS IT’S COMING BACK—“
“I know, stay there. Stay there or you’ll make me mess up and do something stupid and I’m down to .43.”
“SANS! WHY ARE YOU OUTSIDE?!”
“Shh.” He stepped out and raised his voice. He couldn’t manage Papyrus’s commanding shout, but he aimed for a low, warning growl, like Gaster’s. “Heya, kid. I want to see tracks heading into the woods. Opposite direction of the way you’re going now. Capiche? This is your final warning.” He produced a skull blaster and vaporized the snow poff next to the kid, who didn’t even flinch, and kept walking forwards. Sans felt suddenly cold.
“I’m going to the castle,” the human said.
“Like hell you are.”
“Listen, I don’t have to hurt you. Just get out of my way.”
Sans considered this. They were just one, and very small. They seemed sincere. But he didn’t like the thought of letting them just walk into Snowdin. Especially not with, as he now realized, dust on their gloves.
“No can do, unfortunately. Sentry oath and all that. Besides, you don’t seem very friendly. Wouldn’t want to scare anyone, would we?”
The human stared at him. And kept walking. Sans saw his own eyeglow reflected in those glittering eyes.
“I’m going to hurt you,” the human said.
“NO!” Papyrus jumped up behind Sans, and the human dodged a bone attack, clumsily but effectively—they’d done this before, they’d fought monsters before and come out the victor. The dust showed it.

Sans realized that he was going to have to kill someone.

He raised a shaking hand, and a skull blaster stuttered in and out of reality.

The human cried out and froze, hand clasped to its chest. Sans and Papyrus froze. A flaming spear had stabbed through the human’s ribcage. In the sudden silence, there was a patter of lightly running feet behind the two skeletons, then light blazed over the snow. Grillbz, still in his apron, ran past them, snatched up the injured human and slammed them against the wall of a nearby house. They fell limply forwards and he caught and spun them, catching them with one hand holding the arms pinned behind their back and the other hand pinched around the nape of their neck. Then he paused, as if unsure what to do next. As seconds passed Sans realized that he was staring at a dark red stain that had appeared on the wall where the child had been.
As the silence stretched on they heard dogs barking. In a few moments, the scene was mobbed by sentry dogs in armor, who took the human from Grillbz and tied it hand and foot for transportation to the capital. Sans let himself fall backwards against Papryus.
“Hey, Paps. Let’s go home.”
Papyrus tore his eyes away from the spectacle to look at Sans.
“BROTHER, YOU LOOK AWFUL.”
“Heh. I’ll be fine.”
“LET ME CARRY YOU. YOU SHOULDN’T BE OUT HERE.”
“k.”
Sans let himself go limp, and Papyrus picked him up. Sans realized that Papyrus was shaking too.

As Papyrus walked away, Sans, looking back over his shoulder, saw the dogs stripping the tiny body, and Grillbz standing apart, very still. He lifted his head and made eye contact with Sans, held it until Papyrus turned the corner.

A light snow had begun to fall. Sans realized how very cold their world was. The human must be cold.

“I THINK,” said Papyrus, “WE BOTH NEED TO HAVE SOME SOUP AND SPEND THE AFTERNOON AT HOME. WHAT ABOUT YOU?”
“Great idea bro. You’re the best.”

 

A/N: He's heading straight for the castle 

....that's really not working out for him

Man this chapter would be so strange written from the orange soul’s perspective.
“OK large monster, kinda loud, probably going to be a boss fight… It’s OK, I’ve got this… I think it’s afraid of me, anyway… I can do thi WHAT THE HECK WHO IS THIS TINY SCREAMING ROUND THING IN A HOODIE
AND WHY AM I FLYING

Chapter 19: Song Songer Yet Songer the References Keep Accumulating

In which we realize that Grillbz is a bit of a troll. Memetically, not biologically. 

Grillbz was back at Grillby’s, polishing a glass and silently listening to the patrons gossip about what had happened earlier that day. Several had attempted to talk to him about it, but his silence had eventually made them stop, leaving him to his own thoughts. Emotions were high, but Grillbz was calm, if not jubilant. It was, after all, nothing unusual in the grand scheme of things. Maybe that was what had thrown him. The ordinariness of it all. The war had never really ended.

A faint sound intruded into his thoughts. Music. Music that haunted him with a distant familiarity.

Then the warrior, friendless, awakens from his dream,
And sees again wide-stretching the waste of waves
Seabirds skimming the snowy foam of the surface
Lying empty under spell of cold: snow falls with rain.

He spun. Gaster was sitting hunched at the extreme end of the bar, singing softly as if to distract himself. He loosened his hands from gripping the edge of the bar to sign.
Hey friend. Heard you’ve had an exciting day.
Grillbz stared in surprise for a moment before signing back.

Then are the heart’s wounds renewed in sorrow,
Then does his own frame hang heavy upon him
When to the Wanderer are left only wisps of memory
Of kin, battle-brothers and liege-lord who lie
Far behind and forever speechless in the lost fatherland.

And you said you were bad at memorization. How long has it been since you heard that? Signed Gaster.
Gaster. You startled me.
There’s a lot of startling going on today.
“Pff,” said Grillbz. What can I get you?
Anything.
Oh, really?
On second thought. Should I trust you?
Grillbz gave him a mysterious look and began mixing a drink with his back to Gaster.
Ah well. You’ve become a hero, or at least an item of conversation, across the Underground by now.
I’ve been made a hero for worse things.
I don’t see you rejoicing.
Grillbz silently set a drink down in front of Gaster and stood, arms at his sides, thinking. At last he began to sign, slowly.
I did grow to enjoy killing humans, but that was in fair battle. This was a child. Still a threat, of course.
He trailed off. Gaster sipped his drink and blinked. It was good. It was also very alcoholic. Then again, he felt like he could use that at the moment.
Funny how it all comes back, continued Grillbz. That’s what I’m saying, I think? I saw the human, and it was like no time had passed at all.
Gaster nodded. How are you? He asked.
Fine. I suppose I should be traumatized, but I’m not.
Not necessarily.
I wouldn’t have interfered, but the skeleton brothers ended up as the last stand between it and the town.
Wait, they were there? Sans and Papyrus?
Yes. They’re alright now, don’t worry about them. Papyrus found the human first, I think, and Sans found Papyrus. Neither of them has fought a human before, and I don’t think they would have been able to subdue it without killing it, which would waste the soul. I don’t think Papyrus would have been able to do either before it had seriously harmed him. He doesn’t have the… I don’t know. He’s too kind, and he hasn’t had to fight for his life before.
He paused.
Sans would have killed the human if I had let it get closer.
But you didn’t, said Gaster.  
No. Of course, EXP might help him become stronger. Perhaps only a little. Perhaps it’s not worth it.
He shouldn’t be a sentry with such low HP, said Gaster, I’m glad you were there. How close were they to fighting?
Close. You’ll hear about it in the news soon, probably. Anyway, Sans obviously doesn’t want to gain EXP, and he shouldn’t be forced to. This is supposed to be a time of peace.
Then, said Gaster, reaching for Grillbz’s hand, it’s good we have you.
Grillbz shrugged.
“.heheh.you’re holding my hand.”
“I am holding your hand. What did you give me?” said Gaster, releasing it.
“.nothing that mood-altering I thought.” He looked curiously at Gaster. “.are you alright?”
“I’m… normal. Ish.”
“.Gaster.you don’t look well.why are you sitting like that?”
Gaster was still hunched over the bar in what looked like a painful position.
“I’m… I think my back might be broken.”
Grillbz regarded him silently, but his flames gave a sharp flicker.
“.how.” he said finally.
“I got thrown out a window.”
“.how high?”
“Fourth floor. Uh, they were kinda high floors.”
“.damn you fool.why did you come here and not the hospital?”
“I… really hate hospitals…”
Grillbz took off his apron and stowed it under the counter.
Back room. Now.
“I’ll be fine, you don’t—“
Nonsense, I’m going to heal you before you dust all over my nice clean floor.
Gaster considered briefly. “Right. Thanks. Sorry I just showed up here, I’m kind of out of it.” he downed the rest of his drink and slowly stood, holding the edge of the bar.

Grillbz’s back room was mostly for storage, with some minimal cooking equipment at one end. Gaster wondered how exactly he cooked the food he served, but it didn’t seem like a good time to ask, and it seemed almost ridiculous anyway. Fire obeyed Grillbz. He cooked his food in whatever way he fancied, and it would work out just fine, thank you flames.
Gaster gingerly removed his coat and placed it on a stack of crates. A shard of glass fell out and clattered on the floor. Grillbz stared at the spiderwebbed crack on the back of Gaster’s skull.
Sit down, I can’t reach you.
Gaster sat down stiffly on a crate. Grillbz hopped up behind him and cupped his hands over the crack. A majority of monsters could use healing magic, with varying degrees of effectiveness, but they generally only needed to be close to the monster to use it. Grillbz’s healing magic needed direct contact, but it was powerful. Green flames began to flicker through the orange where his hands touched Gaster’s skull and the outermost cracks became less distinct.
“How is it?” asked Gaster.
“.it’s not as ugly as your face.”
“Well, thank goodness for small blessings.”
“.one of these days your skull will fall apart completely and nobody will be able to fix it.stop falling off things.gravity is not your friend.”
“It’s not? Wow, it’s never let me down. Except always. Unintentional pun there. I mean, it’s always there for me, there we go.”
“.you’re not healing as easily as you used to.”
“I’m tired.”
“.no, you’re hurt.it must be worse than you’re telling me.”
“It was a high window.”
“.how did it happen?”
“Oh, you know, Asgore had the human, ah, I heard about it and, you know. I’m stupid. I figured I’d go try to talk him out of it. Killing it. Because. Ha. I’m stupid. And ah. Got there and it was dead and.” he paused for breath. “And well Asgore and I had a little chat, which culminated in me being thrown out the window. I probably deserved it.”
“.tell me everything.”

Earlier that day, the peace of the throne room had been briefly interrupted by some members of the Royal Guard, who left something in Asgore’s care.

Asgore stared down at the burlap sack lying in the flowers. He’d been standing there for several minutes, waiting for it to move. It had twitched a few times, but nothing more.
“Hello?” he said finally.

The sack sat up.

Oh no.

A little boy clawed the sack open and stuck his head out. His hair was a mess. He was wearing rocket ship boxer shorts and muddy socks, both smeared with dried blood.

The king and the child in the sack regarded each other silently for several moments.

“I heard you wanted to come to the castle,” said Asgore. The child nodded.
“The Barrier’s here, right?”
“It is. Come.”
He turned and walked. The child, after staring for several moments, crawled out of the bag and followed him, stepping high over the flowers, which dusted his legs with golden pollen.

When he reached the Barrier, Asgore had the soul jars ready.

“Human.”

The child stopped.

“Long ago, humans and monsters fought a war.”

War? It had been genocide, even with a few fighters such as Grillbz. Waves and waves of soldiers poured away into dust. Only a tiny remnant of the once proud nation had taken refuge under the mountain.

 “The monsters lost. We’ve been trapped here for a long time.”

Asgore did not smile, he did not look cold. He only looked sad.

“A human child… like you… fell down here, one day, and I adopted it as my own.”

Gaster remembered Chara. So frail and broken, so eager to please. They had loved that child. They had all loved that child with everything they had.

“But it was not enough.”

The orange child stared up at him, the shifting glow of the Barrier glittering in his dark eyes.

Far away, almost in another world, there was the sound of a window breaking.

When Gaster arrived, panting, at the Barrier, the human’s body lay lifeless in a pool of blood. It hadn’t taken long. Asgore cradled a newly filled soul jar to his chest, looking down at the warm orange glow in his hands.

“Gaster.”

Gaster stopped.

“I thought you might come.”

Gaster tried to speak and made only a soft hum.

“You might have at least used the door.”

Sorry.

“What do you expect me to do?”

Anything other than… this…

“I am doing what I must.”

Only because you think you must. Nothing drives you to this.

“Nothing? Have you been outside, Gaster?”

A bit, said Gaster with a faint smile. You know me. But…

“We can’t live on here for many more generations, you and I both know that. Do you want to watch our kind’s extinction? We have to fight while there are still enough of us. Now.” He put down the orange soul. “There is no hope left for peace with humans, Gaster, much as I hate to admit it, and soon there will be no hope at all.”

Gaster looked at him.

“Now get out before I call the guards. This would be a pain to explain to them.”

You misunderstand hope. It’s not a thing that can be depleted. It’s the thing left when everything else is gone. Hope is… he snapped his fingers nervously, searching for the words.

“Gaster. You broke into my castle—on the fourth floor, which is admittedly somewhat impressive, but still—and I will not be lectured. You know this is hard for me.”

Clearly not hard enough, as you’re still doing it.

“Get. Out.”

Toriel would agree with me.

Well. That was a step too far and he panicked as soon as he realized what he’d said. There was a moment of heavy stillness, then Asgore silently stepped forwards, lifted Gaster by the back of the coat, and dragged him back down the hallway from which he’d come.

“Sorry. I am a jerk.” Said Gaster. In the shock of the moment he’d somehow rediscovered how to speak. “Um. What now? Exile in the dark caverns?”
“No, Hotland,” said Asgore tonelessly. “You promised me a Core.”
“I—thank—“
“I’m going to bill you for this window, though,” said Asgore, pausing in front of the broken one. Gaster winced.
“Fair enough.”

He exited the building headfirst a moment later, taking the rest of the window with him.

“A quite lenient reaction, actually,” said Gaster.
“.you’re insane.”
“That does seem to be the consensus lately.”
“.what did you hope to prove?”
“Nothing, I just… felt like I had to…”
“.this is as good as I can do for your skull.take your sweater off.fool.”
Gaster pulled his sweater up to his shoulder blades and stopped with a faint sound of pain.
“But, I mean, I feel like at this point… nghh. Grillbz, could you—“
Grillbz leapt off the crate and stood half-crouched, staring at him intensely. Gaster regarded him with the blank look of pain.
“—help me?”
Grillbz made several horrified gestures, then pulled the sweater over Gaster’s head and stepped back again to look at him.
“Might as well get something done before I die, huh? Oh this isn’t all from today, ah, that would be bad, it’s.. Just the new looking cracks that are dusting. Like here.” He touched a sharp crack on a rib, winced, and looked down at the dust on his fingertips. He looked up at Grillbz.
“It’s fine, really, I mean I’m used to it, I guess it’s better I mean I don’t know? I don’t actually want to die now? I guess it’s fine—I’m sorry, I can’t think.”
“.Gaster.what are you saying?”
“Well I’m dying I think I’m pretty sure and you’re out of focus. Wait, am I drunk?”
“.Gaster—“ Gaster leaned sideways and fell with a thud off of the crate onto the floor.
“Ow. I am drunk. Owww.”
“.Gaster!!why would you do that?!”
“Scientific method. Drunk monsters do stupid things. This was stupid. Ergo Gaster is drunk. Then again, I do stupid things anway, so I suppose it’s debatable whether”
“.shhh.don’t move.”
“This is your fault, sir bacon beaconface, I hope you realize that,” said Gaster, still sprawled on the floor.
“.this is why you tell people when you’re at the door of death instead of having a long conversation with them first.if they’re not aware of your state they might offer you an unhelpful amount of alcohol.”
“No this is very helpful actually it doesn’t hurt as much. As anything. Actually no it’s almost as the same as as that one time? With the pine trees. There are a lot of pine trees. Hold on. There was a stick monster who was supposed to help us out but you kept touching him because you thought it was funny and he didn’t know you wouldn’t catch him on fire by accident and he finally ran up a tree and stayed there? That was a bad start, and then it rained, and I was kinda on my own”
“.stop talking.”
“Wasn’t as bad as Horatius though. I mean well no Horatius had it bad. Where are we? Oh yeah, Snowdin. I’m sorry, I get lost sometimes. I couldn’t remember how old we are.”
While Grillbz was internally screaming, the door to the storage room opened. He snatched up Gaster’s coat and tossed it over his naked torso.
“Ow,” said Gaster absent-mindedly.
“Hey, are you OK?” it was one of the sentry dogs. “Saw you leave—“
“.” Grillbz stepped close enough to be heard. “.my friend is badly hurt.I need to get him patched up.I’ll be back.”
“Oh sheesh, that’s too bad. Was it the human?”
“.in a fashion, yes.mostly it was his own stupidity.now excuse me.” Grillbz closed the door on the sentry dog and went back to Gaster, unknotting his tie. And he’d thought that the first part of the day had been disconcerting.

 

A/N: The Wanderer is a beautiful elegiac Anglo-Saxon poem I wrote a paper on this last semester. I was going to quote some lines here. Then I tried to uptranslate the translation to make it fit better in the narrative and got carried away and I don’t know what this is now? It’s… an intense paraphrase, or an original (except not) piece that’s a tribute to The Wanderer. One of those. Anyway. It’s not an exact quote.

And if it feels like I cut off in the middle of a conversation, that’s because I did, this chapter was running longish already. Don’t worry, Grillbz wants answers as much (or more, depending on you, reader) as you do.

Can we just take a moment to appreciate the fact that Gaster’s reaction, upon finding himself half-dead on the pavement surrounded by broken glass and panicked pedestrians who saw him fall, was not ‘yes thank you helpful onlookers, please do help me to the nearest hospital’ but ‘nope I’m fine, never mind me, this is totally normal, Imma just get up and walk to snowdin on this broken back because I heard that my old friend was the one who apprehended the human and I want to check on him k bye’

Also I… somehow, this happened, and… I blame Convenient Alias for showing me music videos. That’s never a good idea. Figured I’d include it because why not, hopefully someone will get a laugh out of it. You don’t have to keep reading. You didn’t have to keep reading this far, even. Why do people read these author notes? Bleadfjalsdhkfasdkjsa! SO ANYWAYS, HERE’S THE WEIRD ANIMATION THAT MY BRAIN DECIDED TO PLAY ME

Shot of a busy street in New Home. The sounds of talking and laughter are interrupted by a loud smash of breaking glass. Heads swivel to look up.

Shot over Gaster’s shoulder as he’s flying backwards out a window. Asgore’s spear is visible through the hole in his outstretched hand. Asgore himself stands dead center screen, watching him fall.

Shot of Gaster’s completely deadpan expression as he plummets four stories and lands on a street vendor’s tent, crushing it under him

Shot of Gaster chilling in the wreckage with one arm thrown over his head

BAD BLOOD by Taylor Swift starts playing

Author removes brain and looks quizzically at it

What

What is this doing

Oh, BONUS:

Asgore: DID YOU HAVE TO DO THIS I WAS THINKING THAT YOU COULD BE TRUSTED

Gaster: NOW WE GOT PROBLEMS AND I DON’T THINK WE CAN SOLVE ‘EM

Asgore: OUR COUNTRY has problems you noodle WAKE UP AND SMELL THE REALITY

Gaster: I’M WORKING ON THAT, in a way that DOESN’T MURDERIZE PEOPLE, you fluffy Hawaiian shirt wearing sofa

Both: OOOOOH IT’S SO SAD TO THINK ABOUT THE GOOD TIMES, YOU AND I, IIIIIIIIII

CUZ BABY NOW WE’VE GOT BAD BLOOD

Shot of bleeding human

 ((Why am I parodying myself????))

Both: SO TAKE A LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE

*Asgore is pointing at the window, Gaster is cradling the dead human, each looks equally angery*

Both: CUZ BABY NOW WE’VE GOT BAD BLOOD

…

HEY.

You’re still reading.

Haven’t you got anything better to do?

Chapter 20: A MOST EXCELLENT POT OF SOUP

In which Murphy's Law and Morpheus's Law arm wrestle. The Plot watches shyly from the sidelines, afraid to intervene. 
ie, everything thing happens and people fall asleep. 

Grillbz’s storage room was ablaze with warm yellow light. The present time had slowed for Gaster, and unconnected memories flickered across his consciousness as he lay looking up at the shifting glow on the ceiling. He was cradled in warmth, healing magic sinking into his bones. He could just feel the surge of plasma under Grillbz’s burning skin; plasma like the blood of stars and the glowing heart of galaxies, but tamed to friendly warmth that could heal and hold.
“.Gaster.”
“Huh?”
“.are you asleep?”
“No.”
“.don’t fall asleep.it will be difficult to wake you up.”
“Mm.”
.Gaster.what did I just tell you?”
“dunngo’t’sleep.”
“.Gaster, wake up.” Grillbz patted the side of his skull. “.talk.”
“Bout wha’?”
“.there are all manner of questions I could stand to have answered.what’s this nonsense about you dying?”
“Oh you heard that?”
“.you said it to my face.twice.”
“Oh yeah.” Gaster yawned quietly. Grillbz adjusted his position, pressing Gaster’s spine to his torso and wrapping it in flames. The flames flickered green across Gaster’s bones wherever they touched Grillbz. The healing warmth was relaxing, even without the alcohol, and Gaster was pleasantly spaced out. Grillbz swatted at his face again.
“.so?start talking.”
“M. Yeah. Oh right, you don’t know this.”
“.I knew how badly you were hurt outside the Barrier.but you lived.why haven’t you healed?”
“Who knows. Skeletons are weird, ‘member?”
“.yes.”
“Huh. Well. It’s just—small things. In a normal monster you’d call it aging, but I have no child, and in theory I shouldn’t age. Guess I’m just wearing down. Old wounds aren’t healing, my bones are getting more brittle—“
“.then for God’s sake stop falling off things.”
“I’m light, it doesn’t hurt me much compared to other monsters, though compared to what I could once take I’ve gotten weaker.”
“.stop defending your bad decisions Gaster.”
“Mm.” he paused.
“.go on.” said Grillbz, and he shook himself.
“My face is going numb.”
Grillbz snapped out a ? above Gaster’s ribcage.
“When I first woke up after that year altered consciousness or whatever we’ve decided to call it, I could move the right side of my face, just a little. After a while, I couldn’t, and now I can move even less of it, and the numbness is spreading.”
“.is this a skeleton thing?”
“I don’t know why it’s spreading, but the process is, more or less. Unhealed facial cracks are odd. First they’re painful, then the membrane around the crack goes stiff, and they become numb. Sometimes they can slowly heal after that, though they’ll scar.”
“.wait.membrane.so you have skin?”
“In a very loose manner of speaking, yes, just on my skull. I need something to keep the ectoplasm from dripping out my chin. And how else would I smile?”
“.I see.”
Gaster nestled deeper into the flames with a contented sigh.
“Anthing else you’re dying to know?”
“.yes, actually.one drink and you’re completely pissed.why are skeletons such ridiculous lightweights?”
“We have no livers. And you did that on purpose.”
“.you’re funny when you’re drunk.you should have told me you were hurt.”
“So you could give me a bigger dose?”
“.alcohol as anesthetic is a poor life choice.”
“Once upon a time I might have cared about that.”
“.ff.Gaster, I don’t have a liver either.”
“And? We also don’t have blood, or tissues.”
“.I’m starting to question how you get drunk at all.”
“Magic.”
“.I don’t get drunk, why do you?”
“Mmmmagic!”
“.though I suppose it goes straight to your head, as it has nowhere else to go.”
“Sure. Can we stop talking? It’s tiring.”
“.what?”
“This. Having a conversation, I have to focus really hard on—“ he paused, recited several lines from the Aeneid, paused again, and resumed—“keeping in time. Uh. Excuse me.”
Grillbz crackled his amusement.
“.I was right.you’re funny.”
“Alright, fine.”
“.Gaster!don’t go to sleep!”
“mmfine.”
“.wait a moment.is this numb?”
“What?”
“.I’m poking you in the face.”
Gaster reached up and located Grillbz’s hand.
“Oh. Huh yeah, didn’t feel that.”
“.but you felt it before?”
“You slapped me in the face. It kind of makes my whole head jerk around, it’s hard not to notice.”
“.oh.so, never poke, just slap you hard in the face if I need to get your attention.I will remember.”
“Or use any other method in the world. Such as touching my arm. Or snapping. If none of that works, whistle.”  
“.when I could slap you in the face?”
“This is why no one likes you.”
“.you, on the other hand, are entirely likable, but never go outside.”
“I kinda miss you not talking.”
“.such snark suddenly.you must be drunk.” They were quiet for a while. “.Gaster?” no answer. Grillbz slapped him lightly. “.Gaster.you said you wouldn’t do this.”
“gzmngh. Hnh? Oh hey…” he fell back asleep. Grillbz couldn’t wake him until a few minutes later, when he suddenly said in a wide awake voice,
“Am I on fire?”
“.Gaster.you’re not on fire.would I do that to you?”
“Grillbz?” Gaster wrenched himself away and flipped over to face Grillbz. His eyes were unfocused, sparks of light snapping across his black eye sockets, like stars in a dark sky. It was one part beautiful and two parts disturbing.
“.hey.snap out of it.”
“Iss OK, I forgive you.” His voice was slurred with sleep and alcohol.
“.Gaster.wake up.”
“Lissen. I know you don’t believe me, that’s why you’re so nice to me. But it’s OK. Really. It wasn’t your fault.”
“.Gaster.”
Gaster looked blankly at him, then lay back down and was immediately asleep. Grillbz decided to let him sleep for a while.
Gaster was lying with the left side of his face on Grillbz’s chest. Grillbz bathed the crack below his eye in healing magic, but it didn’t seem to take. He could tell when his healing magic was and wasn’t working. He kept it up anyway. It might do some good. Maybe.

Gaster was woken by the disconcerting sensation of having something shoved over his head. It was his sweater. He shook his head free and looked around.
“.welcome back to the land of the living.finally.” It was Grillbz, again immaculately dressed.
“I fell asleep? Sorry.”
“.it wasn’t for long.can you stand?”
“Huh—yeah. Hey, I feel good.” Gaster looked down at his hands, half-surprised not to find them glowing with lingering healing magic.
“.it’ll wear off.don’t strain yourself.how drunk are you?walk around.”
“I’m fine,” said Gaster, walking smoothly in a circle without stumbling. Grillbz looked at him. His eyes were still unfocused, but he looked like he could make it home.
“.good.walk it off, I have to work.”

He watched Gaster part of the way down the street.
“.someone needs to take care of that fool.”
He didn’t have time for a real meal, at least not by his standards, but he drank a pint of oil with some raw potato pieces and got back to work.

It was cold outside. It was always cold in Snowdin, but Sans was realizing it again. Why didn’t humans grow more fur? It made no sense… a lot of things made no sense.
The town was quiet, almost everyone was inside. The Capitol was probably rejoicing over the human’s capture, but Snowdin was still recovering from the shock of having a hostile human roaming freely in the area. The two monsters that he did see outside were walking quickly, probably going to check on friends or commiserate with the families that had lost someone. It felt strange to imagine that by the day after the next he would be in Hotland. He didn’t really want to go with the town like this. One good thing was that it was unlikely that another human would appear so soon after the first one. Unlikely, but not impossible. He didn’t like to think about Papyrus facing another one, or another anything, alone after today. If he could just make him promise to be more careful before he left, he’d feel better about leaving him, but he couldn’t imagine Papyrus promising. He took his duties as a sentry seriously, even with his carefree attitude. If he felt that he needed to protect Snowdin he’d stand up to anything.
And that was just it. There was no way Sans could make him understand why he couldn’t allow that. Papyrus had never had to face his own powerlessness. Sans had protected him from that as best he could, and Papyrus was stronger than him even alone. But there were some things that he ought to run from if he was going to stay safe.
Safe. What a beautiful word. Sans tried to think of a single place in the Underground that was perfectly safe. If it wasn’t the potential human, it was the omnipresent Crawlers. With all their time in the Underground the science division still didn’t know what to call the things. Popular opinion was that they were prehistoric monsters which had been disturbed by the growing lights of the monsters’ civilization and crawled out of the dark caverns, where they had bred and lurked for incomprehensible ages of time. That sounded about right, but the truth was even more disturbing. They just didn’t know.

“Saaans?” Sans paused. He heard feet crunching in the snow behind him.
“Saaans! It is you! Hello.” he turned.
“Dr. Gaster?..”
“Yes, in fact. I was just walking.” Gaster caught up with him and gestured vaguely, smiling. His eyes were unfocused.
“Um. Woah. What’s up with you? I mean, that’s nice.”
“It is,” said Gaster seriously, then looked confused for a moment. His eyes sparkled. “Does it ever give you vertigo?”
“Walking?” sometimes, actually, if he stood up too fast, but that was none of anybody’s business.
“The way the world spins,” said Gaster.
“…Are you drunk?”
“No, of course, you haven’t seen it. I’m sorry?”
“You’re drunk. Why are you wandering around Snowdin, drunk?”
“Because Grillbz has a very curious sense of humor. Why do I trust him?”
“He’s always been decent to me,” said Sans, frowning with confusion. “What’d you do to piss him off? Or does he just not do that to regulars?..Dr. Gaster?”
Gaster was staring off into the distance, grinning, as if he’d just had a brilliant idea. He put a hand on Sans’s head.
“Hey.”
“Uh, yeah?”
Gaster looked down at him, almost trembling in an attempt to suppress his excitement.
“Never trust an elemental, Sans.”
“…Why not?”
“They make up everything.” Gaster clapped his hands over his face and went into a fit of giggling. Sans watched him in mildly concerned confusion.
“Uh OK?...”
“Oh dear, is that joke too old? Come on, they don’t teach you classical scientific theory in school? Well no, most of it’s been disproved, but still. Maybe as part of history class? They still teach history, don’t they? It’s important!”
“OK wow. You shouldn’t be out here like this, you’re coming home with me.”
“I mean I suppose you could use the same joke with atoms. But that’s not as funny. I mean, I suppose so, but you can’t use it to make your elemental friends hate you. Well you could. He’s made of atoms. But then you’ve got a joke inside a joke inside a joke”
“Hey. Dr. Gaster, come on. Paps is making soup, it’ll be great.”
“But that’s not funny. Everything is made of atoms.”
“Hey.” Sans reached up and grabbed Gaster’s arm. “Come with me.”
“OK.”
Well this was great. The day just kept getting weirder.

MEANWHILE, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS IN THE KITCHEN, PUTTING THE FINISHING TOUCHES ON A COMFORTING MEAL OF SOUP. AFTER A MINOR MAGICAL MISHAP EARLIER IN THE DAY, THEY HAD FALLEN BACK ON CANNED SOUP INSTEAD OF HOMEMADE, BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS COULD STILL SALVAGE THIS MEAL’S GREATNESS. HE HAD LITTLE CRACKERS THAT LOOKED LIKE SMILEY FACES. AND CHEESE. THOSE MADE ANYTHING BETTER, AND PERHAPS HE COULD MAKE SANS FORGET THE SHAME OF EATING SOUP THAT CAME FROM CANS BECAUSE HIS BROTHER COULDN’T MAKE A GOOD HOMEMADE SOUP.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS BEGINNING TO GROW CONCERNED ABOUT HIS BROTHER’S ABSENCE WHEN HE HEARD FOOTSTEPS OUTSIDE. THANK GOODNESS! SANS HAD STEPPED OUT ‘JUST FOR A MINUTE’ SEVERAL MINUTES BEFORE. ‘TO THINK,’ HE’D SAID. PAPYRUS DID NOT UNDERSTAND WHY HE COULDN’T THINK IN THE HOUSE. IT WAS WARMER. AND HE, PAPYRUS, WAS THERE TO TALK TO. OR HE COULD TALK TO SANS IF SANS WASN’T TALKING. SOMETIMES SANS DIDN’T TALK MUCH, BUT THAT WAS OK. THE GREAT PAPYRUS COULD TALK JUST FINE BY HIMSELF IF HE NEEDED TO.

“Oh hello Sans,” SAID THE GREAT PAPYRUS. “You’re finally back! Come on, the soup is ready.” AND HE BEGAN POURING THE SOUP INTO TWO BOWLS. THE BOTTOM OF THE PAN WAS ONLY SLIGHLTY BLACKENED. HE WAS PROUD OF HIMSELF.
THERE WERE VOICES OUTSIDE, AND ONE WAS DEFINITELY NOT SANS. WHO COULD IT BE? HE HEARD THE SOUND OF THE DOOR SWINGING OPEN, AND THE VOICES BECAME MORE DISTINCT.
“Don’t realize that Constantine’s policy was actually tolerance, but even that was extreme for the times, and he had to use violence to keep the two main religions off each other’s throats”
“can you bend down for a sec?”
“Not that it always worked, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, either, but he made an effort, and it’s fascinating how”
“hey, doc. That’s great, but we need to get you through this door.”
“Inconveniently for the annals of unbiased history, his biography is actually one of the first hagiographies”
“hey!”
“Reminds me of this manga that Alphys showed me about uncovering the truth about—wait, is it anime or manga that moves? No, it’s anime. Whew, good thing she wasn’t here to catch me saying that”
“Gaster! Gaster! hey!”
“Sans?”
“go through the door!”
“What door?”
“this door! the one I’ve been trying to shove you through for the past minute and a half!”
“Oh dear I’m sorry Sans I”
“I will forgive you, IF you go through the door!”
“OK.”
DR. GASTER APPEARED IN THEIR LIVING ROOM WITH SNOW CAKED INTO THE FOLDS OF HIS CLOTHES. A STORM WAS PICKING UP OUTSIDE. SANS STUMBLED IN AFTER HIM, PRACTICALLY A SNOWMAN, AND SLAMMED THE DOOR, PANTING.
“What on earth?” THE GREAT PAPYRUS INQUIRED IN A CONVERSATIONAL TONE, AND WAS SURPRISED TO SEE DR. GASTER FLINCH, AS THOUGH SOMEHOW STARTLED.
“Oh, hello, Papyrus.”
“he’s drunk,” SAID SANS, GESTURING AT DR. GASTER.
“Who?” INQUIRED THE DOCTOR.
“I believe he means you,” SAID THE GREAT PAPYRUS.
“sleep it off,” SAID SANS, STEERING DR. GASTER TOWARDS THE COUCH.
“Does he want soup?” INQUIRED THE GREAT PAPYRUS.
“no, he wants to sleep,” SAID SANS, SHOVING DR. GASTER DOWN ONTO THE COUCH, RATHER RUDELY THE GREAT PAPYRUS THOUGHT.
“There’s soup?” SAID DR. GASTER.
“sleep,” SAID SANS MENACINGLY. DR. GASTER CURLED HIMSELF UP IN A BALL ON THE COUCH. THE GREAT PAPYRUS FELT BAD FOR HIM, AND SPREAD ONE OF SANS’S SPARE BLANKETS OVER HIM. MAYBE IT WASN’T SO BAD AFTER ALL THAT SANS LEFT THINGS LYING AROUND ALL OVER THE HOUSE. THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING HANDY.
THE GREAT PAPYRUS TOOK HIS BROTHER INTO THE KITCHEN AND GAVE HIM HIS SOUP, FIRST GARNISHING IT WITH CRACKERS AND CHEESE. SANS WAS VERY CALM ABOUT HAVING TO EAT UTTERLY BORING CANNED SOUP INSTEAD OF HOMEMADE. THAT WAS ONE GOOD THING ABOUT SANS, HE WAS VERY EASY TO PLEASE.
AFTER THEY’D EATEN, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WENT TO CHECK ON DR. GASTER, WHO WAS STILL AWAKE AND LOOKED SOMEWHAT CONFUSED, AND TOLD HIM HIS SOUPMAKING WOES. DR. GASTER SAT UP.
“That’s not right, everyone should know how to make soup. I know how to make soup.” THE GREAT PAPYRUS LAMENTED THAT HIS COOKING SKILLS WERE SKILL DEVELOPING.
“Well of course, you have to start somewhere. What do you have? I could help you—“
THE TWO OF THEM ENDED UP IN THE KITCHEN TOGETHER! SANS, WHO’D BEEN NAPPING WITH HIS HEAD ON THE TABLE (HE REALLY COULD SLEEP ANYWHERE,) JERKED HIS HEAD UP AND SCREAMED
“papyrus what are you doing why is he in the kitchen he’s drunk!”
DR. GASTER TURNED AROUND WITH A KNIFE AND SMILED AT SANS, WHO LEFT THE KITCHEN RATHER ABRUPTLY. DR. GASTER SEEMED EMBARRASSED.

Sans was done.

At first he took refuge in his room, but it was dark and dreary, and he went into Papyrus’s room instead. It was cleaner, better furnished, and if he was being completely honest with himself it smelled better. He curled up on the rug and was half-asleep when he heard Papyrus calling
“SANS? SANS?”
from next door, in his room. He came out and met Papyrus in the hallway.
“Heya. I didn’t hear any explosions. Did he pass out finally?”
“SANS WE MADE SOUP!”
“With no explosions. Good job.”
“HERE.” Papyrus gave him a mug filled with some dark orange liquid. Sans looked suspiciously at it.
“TRY IT SANS! TRY IT!” Well, he was used to sampling Papyrus’s creations, this couldn’t be much worse. He sipped it.
For a moment he couldn’t comprehend what he was tasting. Was it so bad it tasted good at first? He tried it again.
“WELL? IT’S GOOD, ISN’T IT?” Papyrus grinned down at him expectantly. Sans silently drank the rest of the soup. Warmth spread out from his soul, almost forcing tears to his eyes.
“You made this?”
“YES! WELL IT WAS MOSTLY GASTER BUT I HELPED A LOT! WE ONLY BROKE ONE GLASS! I’M NOT SURE WHO KNOCKED IT OVER BUT WE BOTH APOLOGIZED AND THEN WE STARTED LAUGHING AND IT WAS GREAT.”
“I uh… cool. Is there more of this?”
“YES! THERE’S A WHOLE BIG POT OF IT!”
Sans started for the stairs.
“What in heck’s name did Grillbz give him?”
“I DON’T KNOW BROTHER. BUT HE’S REALLY NICE! SOMETIMES I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT HE’S TALKING ABOUT, THOUGH.”
“You and me both.” Sans reached the kitchen door and paused. Gaster was curled up in his blanket, in a corner, fast asleep. Finally.
“Hey bro, do you think you can move him to the couch? That doesn’t look comfortable.” He walked over to the pot containing the rest of the soup, hoisted himself onto the counter next to it and greedily inhaled the fragrant steam rising from its surface.
“I BELIEVE I CAN!”
Papyrus attempted to roll Gaster into his arms and had half-lifted him when there was a flash of purple and the two of them bounced in different directions. When Gaster hit the floor he was wide awake.
“What…?”
“Hello again,” said Sans, catching his eye with a wave of the ladle. “Thanks for the soup. Would you mind moving yourself to the couch now?”
Gaster looked blankly at him for a moment, then got up and went into the living room.
“You OK, Papyrus?” Papyrus got up.
“PERFECTLY FINE, BROTHER. WHAT ON EARTH WAS THAT?”
“His shield. He has shield magic, remember?”
“OOOH OF COURSE! I MUST HAVE STARTLED HIM.”
“Heh.” Sans filled himself another mug of soup, glancing up at the clock on the wall.
“Oh, boy. It’s not even nine yet.”
“AND THAT MEANS?”
Sans fortified himself with another sip of soup.
“We have three whole hours until this day is officially over, and given how the rest of it has been, I don’t have a good feeling about how they’re going to turn out.”
“OH SANS IT WASN’T THAT BAD! THEY CAUGHT THE HUMAN! KING ASGORE WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT! AND WE HAVE SOUP!”
“Yes,” said Sans. “That’s something. We have soup.” And we also have an uncomfortable sense of impending existential dread, but you don’t need to worry about that, bro.

 

A/N: OK, so we know some things about drunk Gaster. He can walk, he can talk, he can control his magic, he can make soup. He just can’t remember what year he’s in.
Please tell me someone else laughed at the joke about elementals. Seriously, I think that’s my favorite part of the story so far…I’m a huge nerd.

Boss monsters, as you may know, do not age or die (unless killed violently) until they have a child, when they pass their magic on to the child, slowly aging and eventually dying as the child grows. Gaster is a sad lonely guy so he’s biologically like thirty, though technically ancient.

No the Riverperson does not have a defined gender, Gaster is using the gender-neutral ‘he.’ Why does everyone forget that this is a thing? English is confusing.

Also, TWENTY CHAPTERS? WHOOO!

Chapter 21: I'M BLUE

Summary:

da ba de da ba di

In which DID YOU KNOW THAT PAPYRUS HUGS CAN CURE HANGOVERS, FATIGUE AND SADNESS

Gaster was woken by a crash that shook the whole house.
“CRAWLER!”
“You don’t say bro. Turn the lights off.”
“BUT MY SOUP! I CAN’T EAT SOUP IN THE DARK! MAYBE IT JUST BUMPED INTO US BY ACCIDENT? IT’S PRETTY BLIZZARDY OUT THERE, IT MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO SEE—“
The house trembled again. After a moment of silence, the kitchen lights turned off. There was a patter of feet moving across the living room and the sound of a door opening upstairs. Light blazed out from Papyrus’s room for a minute, then disappeared with the click of a switch. Gaster lay in the dark, hands clenched, trying to remember why he was in Snowdin and why he felt so terrible. He heard Papyrus start back down the steps, then there was another crash, followed by some snapping sounds.
“WHAT? IT’S STILL TRYING TO WALK THROUGH US! DOESN’T IT REALIZE THERE’S A HOUSE HERE?!”
The front door opened, flinging dim snowlight across the wall.
“I’ll lure it away.”
“SANS! YOU’RE STILL RECOVERING!”
“Nah I’m not, I’m back to normal. I’ll just be a sec. It’ll be harder with two. We need an eyesocket on the doc anyway.” His voice became fainter as he walked outside, then the door shut itself with a flicker of blue. For a while everything was quiet. Gaster, now fully awake, moved to sit up and immediately fell back with a wince.
“What… did I do last night?”
Well, he wasn’t getting anywhere stuck to Sans and Papyrus’s couch. He took a deep breath and flung himself to the floor, landing on hands and knees. He’d planned to stand up immediately, but his back went stiff. He let out a soft whine, trying to decide what motion would be least painful. Before he could do anything there was a patter of feet and a soft orange glow.
“OH GOOD MORNING! YOU’RE AWAKE! ..DR. GASTER?”
 Papyrus pulled him to his feet and Gaster, not trusting his back to support him, clung to his shoulders, gritting his teeth.
“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”
“I—no—I mean, yes, I’ll be fine, I’m just stiff.”
“OH NO! IS IT BECAUSE I LET YOU FALL ASLEEP ON THE FLOOR LAST NIGHT?”
“No, no, I think I fell yesterday—I’m sorry, it’s—why can’t I remember?”
He looked up, thinking something had changed about the light in the room. There was a bit more of it, and it had a greenish tinge.
Oh. That’s what it was.
A faint halo of healing magic had formed around Papyrus, who looked worried.
“CAN I HEAL YOU?”
“Yes,” said Gaster, feeling like that was the correct answer, and was immediately pulled into a hug. He bit back a scream. But then, almost immediately, he began to feel better.
His eyes widened. The room was ablaze with green light. He and Papyrus were cocooned in it. It wasn’t targeted, just a bubble surrounding them, but it still helped him stand a little straighter. Then Papyrus moved his hands to rest over Gaster’s spine, as if sensing that that was where the pain was.
A minute later Gaster was standing on his own.
“Thank you.”
“DID IT WORK? DID IT HELP?”
“Tremendously, yes. You have a real talent for that. I can’t use healing magic effectively.”
“OH NO! THAT’S TERRIBLE! I GET IT FROM MY PARENTS, THEY WERE BOTH GREAT AT IT! I’M REALLY PROUD OF THEM! SANS CAN’T HEAL EITHER, THOUGH, DON’T BE SAD ABOUT THAT. AT LEAST, HE NEVER DOES. DOGENE SAID ONCE HE THOUGHT THAT SANS COULD HEAL BUT HE USED UP ALL THE ENERGY ON HIMSELF BECAUSE HE’S SO SICK ALL THE TIME OR SOMETHING. WAIT, SHOULD I NOT HAVE TOLD YOU THAT?”
“I… no, I think… Yes. I mean, no. I’m sorry—“ he paused for a moment, signing in Wingdings to help himself think.
“I’m sorry, how did I get here? I can’t”
“OH! SANS FOUND YOU LAST NIGHT AND BROUGHT YOU INSIDE BECAUSE IT WAS STORMING.”
“Where was I?”
“I DON’T KNOW. ASK SANS. OH! LAST NIGHT WAS REALLY FUN, BY THE WAY!”
Papyrus grinned. Gaster looked blankly at him. The silence approached the uncomfortable stage.
“Um—“
“WE MADE SOUP! REMEMBER?”
“We made soup? Was it edible?”
“IT’S DELICIOUS! IT’S EVEN GOOD COLD! I’M HAVING SOME FOR BREAKFAST!”
“Cold?”
“YEAH! ER—I DIDN’T WANT TO RISK MESSING IT UP, AND SANS CAN’T USE FIRE MAGIC.”
“Right. Where is it?”

He'd remembered why he was sore, anyway. Asgore, soul, fourth floor window. Owwww. And that could explain the hangover, he’d gotten drunk to numb the pain—wow, that was stupid. What was wrong with him? And why was he in Snowdin? Of all places to get drunk and wander around making a fool of himself. They had blizzards. And Crawlers. Thank goodness Sans had found him.

Gaster slapped his hands over his eyes with a disgusted sound.
“YOU OK?”
“Yeah.”
He started heating the soup. His magic was sluggish. He stared down into the pot and snapped out a section of Beowulf in Wingdings as he waited.
“Where’d Sans go?” he asked to distract himself, and to give Papyrus an excuse to talk. He’d been watching his hands with an uncomfortable expression. Maybe thinking that he’d be interrupting Gaster’s rant in Wingdings if he said anything.
Papyrus stiffened when he heard the question.
“SANS? OH NO, SANS! I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT SANS! HE SHOULD BE BACK BY NOW!”
“He’s probably fine,” said Gaster, looking out the window into the driving snow. His hands added
And by probably we mean the probability is concerningly low
to that statement, but he didn’t say it out loud.
Papyrus made a doubtful noise. They both stared out the window together.
“I’M GOING.”
“Are you sure?”
“YES! HE COULD BE ANYWHERE, LOST!”
“Which is why running after him might not be a good idea.”
“BUT… HE’S LOST. MAYBE. AND HE HAS LOW HP.”
“And you’re the only one who knows that he’s lost. If he doesn’t show up soon, call for help. We don’t need the two of you being lost out there together.”
“THAT MAKES SENSE ACTUALLY. BUT I DON’T LIKE SITTING HERE. I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT HIM!”
“You forgot for two seconds. I’m sure he’ll forgive you. And you should have some soup before you leave if you do insist on going.”
“I HAD SOME!”
“Some warm soup.” Gaster took Papyrus’s half-full mug of cold soup away from him and dumped it in the pot with the rest.

There was a knock at the door. In the time it took Gaster to lean the ladle against the side of the pot and turn around, Papyrus was opening it.

Grillbz stood outside on the porch with Sans tucked under one arm and two bottles under the other. He stepped inside quickly, set Sans on his feet and shook himself off.
“.I believe this is yours?”
“SANS! WHAT HAPPENED?”
“Ah nothin. I lured it away and I got away from it myself and then I realized that I wasn’t sure where exactly I was. I saw a light and figured I’d head for that, except, the light seemed to be moving, and then it turned out to be Grillbz here.”
“.who, conveniently, had to deliver your goodbye present still and was—“ Gaster came to the kitchen doorway and Grillbz saw him. He stared.
“.what in hell’s name are you doing here?”
“I… am not sure, but I think I passed out on their couch. Thank you for rescuing me, by the way, Sans.”
“No prob.”
“.you didn’t go home?!”
“Uh, no. You didn’t tell me to go home and I didn’t think of it myself, I guess.”
“.aaaaa!Sans.where was he going when you found him?was he walking towards the ferry?”
“Uh, no. Actually, I think he was on that old path that leads to the Ruins, y’know?”
Gaster suddenly looked horrified. Grillbz crackled angrily at him.
“.I thought I could trust you to walk yourself home but no.I can’t believe you.”
“Grillbz, think of the few times you’ve seen me consume alcohol. Have I ever walked home on my own volition afterwards?”
“.you have a point, and you are now banned.if you come back I’m giving you water.”
“You serve water?”
“…not usually.”
“What about tea?”
Grillbz made a disgusted sound.
“No? No tea?”
“.it’s water sludge.even worse than water.”
“IS THE SOUP BURNING?”
“No, it’s not,” said Gaster, but Papyrus was looking concerned for the safety of his soup so he stepped back into the kitchen, leaving him room to walk in. Sans and Grillbz followed.
“.soup for breakfast.not a bad idea.”
“DR. GASTER AND I MADE IT LAST NIGHT!”
“…” Grillbz looked at Gaster.
What? Signed Gaster. Grillbz crackled.
Well I was going to say that that’s odd, but it’s really not. This is by no means the most baffling thing you’ve done even sober.
Gaster made a rude hand sign that Papyrus recognized.
“WHAT! THAT’S WINGDINGS?”
“No, I think it’s rather standard.”
“OH.”
“This, however, is Wingdings.” He snapped and flailed his arms. “Grillbz?”
“.he said ‘I do what I want.’.but with more expletives.”
“...OH.”
“.truly a model of upstanding skeleton behavior.”
“Now I never said that, because it’s not true. This is warm, by the way.”
“OH GOOD! DO YOU WANT SOME, GRILLBZ? PLEASE TRY IT!”
Grillbz looked at the soup.
“.it’s rather…wet.isn’t it?”
“OH! I WASN’T THINKING OF THAT. IT IS SOUP. ”
“.I’ll try a little.”
“OK!” Papyrus gave him a spoonful of broth, which he sniffed carefully, then tipped into his mouth. He winced, then tasted it, and stopped moving. His flames paled and stilled. He stared at Gaster.
“…What?”
“IS IT GOOD? IT DIDN’T HURT YOU, DID IT?”
“.wow.you made this while you were drunk?”
“Ye—“ Papyrus, although he was on Gaster’s right, had come so far forwards in the excitement of speaking to the others in the kitchen that he was back into Gaster’s lopsided field of vision. Gaster caught his expression and amended what he’d been about to say.
“Well, Papyrus helped a lot.”
“THAT HE DID!”
“.Can I hire you?” said Grillbz to Gaster, appreciatively sniffing the soup traces on the spoon.
“Sadly no, I have an engine to build.”
“.keep making soup like this and you will always be forgiven for the stupid and baffling things you do.”

Grillbz left then, after reminding Gaster to take it easy and go straight home to rest as soon as possible. This led to questions from the brothers about how he’d hurt himself and how bad it was. He managed to dodge the first, except for a few inarticulate gestures in Wingdings which Sans looked at curiously. Soul. Bad. Half of the gesture for Don’t, and some vaguely enunciated swearing. The second question Gaster answered with some degree of truthfulness, and changed the subject to Papyrus’s healing abilities.
“Have you had training?”
“NOPE!”
“Kinda doesn’t go with the sentry training, y’know?” said Sans.
“OH BUT I COULD FIND TIME FOR IT PROBABLY!”
“You could find time for anything, bro. I didn’t know you were interested before now. But you’re good at it already, and it’s not on the sentry track.”
“ALL KINDS OF SKILLS CAN BE USEFUL FOR BEING A SENTRY!”
“That’s true,” said Gaster. “Are you good at bullet magic already?”
“OH YES! IT’S LIKE MAKING PUZZLES, I LOVE IT! BUT THAT’S NOT THE ONLY KIND OF MAGIC. OUR DAD NEVER EVEN USED BULLET MAGIC!”
“What, at all? I don’t use bullets much, but I have my shield… Was there a reason?”
“OH HE COULD DO IT HE JUST DIDN’T. HE SAID IT COULD HURT PEOPLE.”
“Well yes. That’s the whole point.”
“YES RIGHT SO HE DIDN’T WANT TO HURT ANYONE AND SO HE DIDN’T PRACTICE IT, SO HE WOULDN’T BE GOOD AT IT, AND THEN HE WOULDN’T WANT TO USE IT IN A FIGHT AND HE’D FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO DO!”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
“YES! ISN’T IT?”
“It bears mentioning,” said Sans tiredly, “that dad wasn’t a sentry. So he could get away with that.”
“BUT I’M ALREADY REALLY GOOD AT IT! I GET THAT FROM MY MOM.”
“It’s always nice to improve, bro.”
“REALLY? THAT’S WHAT I TELL YOU! IS IT MAKING AN IMPRESSION?”
“I just don’t think you should get too distracted, is all.”
“BUT! BUT IF I COULD HELP MONSTERS! WHAT IF I FOUND SOMEONE INJURED IN THE WOODS WHILE I WAS ON A SHIFT? FAR FROM SNOWDIN?”
“You’d be able to help them, Paps, you’re already good enough.”
“YES! BUT! BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS COULD ALWAYS BE BETTER!”
Sans huffed.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I MEAN, SENTRY TRAINING IS FUN, BUT IT’S NOT THE ONLY THING IN THE WORLD! OTHER SKILLS ARE JUST AS IMPORTANT!”
“Nothing is as important as being able to defend yourself!” said Sans sharply.
“Well I wouldn’t say absolutely nothing in all of creation—“ Gaster began, but cut off when Sans directed an absolutely livid glance at him.
“…but he has a point, it’s pretty important.” Yikes. What had he said this time? Sans stood with a scowl and disappeared into the living room. After a moment’s hesitation, Gaster followed him.
“Please don’t make my brother any more of a pacifist than he is,” said Sans immediately. Gaster stopped.
“What? Why?”
“Because pacifists get killed, that’s why.”
“Um. Sorry?” Gaster started signing. Sans looked down.
I don’t understand what I did.
“You don’t use bullets much, you said? Come on, even you take out bullets in a fight.”
“I really don’t. I’m not as comfortable with them as some of my other magic.”
“Really. How are you alive?”
“Oh, I have some other tricks up my sleeve.” Gaster sparked indigo cutting magic from his right hand with a smile.
“Heh. OK, fair enough. Would you call yourself a pacifist?”
Gaster hesitated.
“I would.”
“But if someone gets close enough to hurt you, you’re going to kill them.”
“Nobody gets close enough.”
“Really?”
Gaster stepped back across the room.
“Here. Run at me, I’ll show you. It’s not dangerous, I promise.”
“Uh. OK.” Sans stepped back, got ready, started to move forward—and then somehow tripped over the flat carpet and fell to hands and knees.
“Uh, whoops. Give me a sec—“
He got back up and started forward a second time. Again, he inexplicably fell, but this time he was aware of a force tugging him down. He looked up at Gaster from the floor with dawning recognition.
“Gravity control?”
Gaster was smirking.
“Woah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that.”
“It’s useful. Here, let me show you something else.” The force pulling Sans into the floor lessened, then shifted, pulling him backwards until his back touched the wall. He stopped there, confused.
Turn turn turn Gaster was signing.
“Turn.”
“What?”
Walk. Upwards.
“Step on the wall.” Sans turned and put his hands and knees on the wall. It felt oddly stable. He lifted his feet off the floor.

He didn’t come down.

Slowly, he put his feet under him and stood up on the wall, looking straight ahead at the ceiling. He looked over his shoulder at Gaster. Everything in the living room looked wrong from this angle.
“…Woah.”
“Trippy.”
“Yeah.” The force holding him to the wall lessened, and Sans swayed and put his feet back on the floor. After a moment of confused two-way gravity he was again standing solidly on the floor.
“Is this a special talent or can you teach it to someone else?”
“I really don’t know. That’s an excellent question. It can probably be learned—I learned it myself, because no, it’s not an innate ability.”
“DR. GASTER!” Papyrus appeared in the doorway. “THE SOUP TASTES EVEN BETTER TODAY!—WOOPSIE, HOW DID I DO THAT?”
He’d tripped over the doorway and ended up on the living room floor. Sans snorted. Papyrus got back up and immediately fell again.
“It probably does. Soup’s better after it’s been let to sit for a little while, it lets all the flavors blend together.”
Papyrus tumbled down a third time, muttering that he didn’t know what was wrong with him that morning. Sans and Gaster glanced at each other and sputtered.
“Should—should I stop?” said Gaster, giggling. Sans just laughed. Papyrus looked suspiciously at him.
“ALRIGHT, YOU TWO. WHAT’S GOING ON?”
“Gaster has gravity control.”
“GASTER HAS GRAVITY CONTROL?!”
“That’s what I said,” said Sans, walking up the wall. Papyrus screamed.
“NO! NO! PUT HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW HE ONLY HAS ONE HP! WHAT IF YOU DROP HIM?”
“I’ll be fine,” said Sans, transitioning to the ceiling. “Hey, you guys look weird from up here.”
“NO! STOP IT SANS! DR. GASTER PLEASE PUT HIM DOWN!”
“Come on, Sans, head for the couch.” Sans obediently slid down the opposite wall and settled into the couch as if he’d flopped there from the floor, stretched on his side, hand under his chin. Papyrus took a moment.
“YOU’RE OK? WOWIE. IS THIS A BOSS MONSTER THING?”
“Not as far as I can tell. I might be able to teach it to you, I’ve never tried.”
“WHAT? ME?”
“Sure, why not? If you want to learn”
“YES YES YES I DO! PLEASE? CAN WE START RIGHT NOW? THAT’S SO COOL!”
“We can try,” said Gaster, smiling. Papyrus’ excitement was infectious. Sans gave him thumbs up from the couch. He’d done good.
You have, signed Sans, and Gaster realized with embarrassment that he’d said that last part in Wingdings.

 

A/N: Disoriented Gaster waking up on the skelebro’s couch should be a brick joke, let me get on that. There’s also “how are you alive,” which has been inquired of Gaster three times in those exact words now without my really intending to make it happen. And it’s probably going to happen again too. So I guess it is now.

OK I’ll be FRANK with you *offers hotcat* before starting this, Papyrus wasn’t one of my favorite characters, but he’s grown on me, and now I’m in love. He’s just so great, I can’t, just, aaaaa. I mean, if he bumped into you on the street after you’d had a fall or something he’d just be like “Pardon me small human OH MY GOODNESS YOU ARE INJURED! ! LET ME HEAL YOU! ! !” *healing halo of all-loving compassion manifests*
What a cool dude.

Also. So many funny scenarios to imagine for if drunk Gaster hadn’t met Sans and had ended up on Toriel’s doorstep in the middle of the night.

Playlist changelog: added a REALLY EPIC UPBEAT SHARAX GASTER THEME REMIX that just came out that I’ve been squeeing over, replaced Heartache remix with a different one, deleted Spiders, reorganized everything to ACTUALLY MAKE SOME SENSE!

CORE Playlist 2.0

 No seriously it’s roughly in chronological order now! I’m going to nerd out about that but I’ll do it elsewhere than here. I’ll do it on my Tumblr. I haven’t used it for a heck of a lot so far anyway. (Note: not everything I’ve reblogged necessarily relates to this AU.) Here ya go then: Here's me explaining everything about everything in a way that probably just makes it more confusing

In case you were attached to them, here are links to the deleted tracks, which are still great and may come back eventually:

Spider Dance Levels

Slow Heartache

Why We Lose

Chapter 22: Dulcet Nope

In which I would intentionally get lost in the woods so Papyrus could rescue me. 

Papyrus was not making progress, though he kept trying. Sans called a break for soup as soon as Papyrus had calmed down enough to listen to him, and Gaster was pleasantly surprised to find that his drunk self had indeed made good soup. Then they went back into the living room and Gaster tried different ways of describing what it felt like to use the attack, occasionally toppling Papyrus onto the floor, which always impressed him. He wanted to know everything about how the attack worked—what color was it, what did it feel like, did it smell like anything, how had Gaster learned it and how had he used it? It was dark blue, and Gaster used it to stop enemies, or sometimes move them away. He’d also rammed particularly unhelpful humans (and Grillbz) into walls with it, but he didn’t mention that.
“Stop thinking about changing the direction of the gravity, for now. You stay on the floor because the earth is always pulling you, right? Just try tapping into that pull and making it stronger. Once you become good at it you can try flinging your enemies around, but forcing them down alone is very effective.”
It was peaceful, walking Papyrus through the attack again and again while Sans watched from the couch. The windows were faintly phosphorescent with snow, which was falling slower now. The wind was finally dying down.
“Focus. It’s like knocking someone down, but you’re using magic to grab and pull their soul.” Roughly. It was a place to start. It had taken Gaster a lot of practice to get so good at it. Papyrus appeared to have a lightbulb moment.
“OH! I SEE WHAT’S WRONG! I DON’T ACTUALLY WANT TO KNOCK YOU DOWN.”
“Oh?”
“YEAH! YOU’RE SORE AND YOU’RE OLD AND I LIKE YOU AND I DON’T ACTUALLY WANT TO DO IT.”
Gaster chuckled.
“I’m not biologically ‘old’.”
“YOU’RE NOT?”
“I’m a lonely boss monster with no children.”
“OH! SO YOU DON’T AGE?”
“I did once, but it wore off. Try again. I feel better, I can stand to be knocked over once.”
“ER… CAN I TRY IT ON SANS?”
“Sure, hit me up bro,” said Sans, lazily standing up on the couch. Immediately he fell over sideways.
“WAS THAT ME OR ARE YOU JUST TERRIBLE AT STANDING UP?”
“Honestly can’t tell bro. We’ll say it was you.”
The next several minutes were confusing, but Papyrus was definitely responsible for knocking Sans down at least once. (Unless Sans was pretending, to encourage Papyrus.)
There was a knock on the door, and Sans went over the arm of the couch to open it. It was Grillbz, again, and this time he was holding an excitedly chattering cellphone a short distance away from his head flames.
“.yes.yes I see.yes I—stop?please?here he is.”
Grillbz walked across the room and shoved the phone against the side of Gaster’s face.
“A-and I KNEW that was why he didn’t have his phone with him, e-except, of course, I didn’t know for sure, but when I saw the the news a-about the human, I just, I knew he’d do it and he wouldn’t listen to me and that was yesterday and I’ve been so scared and you said he fell out a window??”
Gaster took the phone.
“Alphys?”
“DOCTOR GASTER WHERE ARE YOU?”
“Still in Snowdin. It sounds like you’ve been told about my adventures.”
“You fell out a window!! And then, instead of going to straight to the hospital, as you should have, you walked to Snowdin! And got lost in a blizzard!!”
“I didn’t walk actually, the Riverperson gave me a ride.”
Grillbz started at this
“.you really were close to death.”
“No, it’s fine, they’re a friend of mine. Or at least they don’t mind giving me rides around. Did give me a bit of a scare at first though.”
“B-but you’re OK now? Grillbz says you’re OK now.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Alphys.”
“But you’re in Snowdin?”
“Yes. I’m—“
“Not packing.”
“What?”
“You told me you still had to finish packing! You’re leaving tonight!”
“…Not only that, but I have to meet someone about taking care of my cats. Thank you, Alphys. I’d never get anything done without”
“You fell out a window? How?? Also please, please don’t do it again.”
“I’ll tell you when I see you.”
After hanging up, Gaster frowned and looked curiously at the phone.
“Wait a moment, you have a cell phone?”
“.as of ten minutes ago.”
“How does she have your number?”
“.she called Grillby’s in a panic, asking for you.I informed her that we are old war buddies with a deep bond of pure and lasting hatred, and she wanted my number.I then informed her that I did not have a cell phone, and her reaction was rather…extreme.she convinced me to buy one immediately.”
“Oh. Good for her?”
“.I am now the second member of the Stop Gaster from Doing Stupid Stuff Club.” Grillbz took his phone back and, after several moments of awkwardly tapping buttons on the unfamiliar device, held it up, displaying a group text with that name.
“What.”
“.it is my duty as a member of the club to inform you that you have been bad and should not do the stupid things again please,”
“Wait! What!”
“.and that you should really stop distracting Papyrus from his job—“
“OH NO! WHAT TIME IS IT? AAA!” Papyrus dashed upstairs.
“—and go home.it is also my duty as a decent being to inform you that your assistant was very concerned when she first called me and that you really should have called her.”
“I was going to, but someone had to go and get me so drunk I couldn’t tell direction.”
“.excuses, excuses.disgusting.”

There were crashing sounds from upstairs and Papyrus reappeared in his work clothes, a bright orange sweater and cargo pants. The sentry dress code was vague and widely ignored, but Papyrus had logically deduced that orange not only stood out well against the snow, but could be a sort of personal tag, as most everyone in Snowdin knew that it was the color of his magic. The pockets on the pants were full of bandages, instant coffee sticks, puzzle-repairing wire, pieces of candy and other survival knickknacks for rectifying any wrongs he might discover out in the woods.

“I MUST GO! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS SHOCKINGLY LATE! SANS, I WILL SEE YOU LATER! GOODBYE GRILLBZ, GOODBYE DR. GASTER! AND THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING!”
His voice trailed off as he crunched down the snowy street. The blizzard appeared to be over, except for a tired sort of continuing sprinkle of snow, and Snowdin didn’t shut down for any snowfall of less than apocalyptic size. Sans closed the door without moving from the couch.
Papyrus was technically only a junior sentry, as he wasn’t old enough to be a real sentry, but he acted like one and nobody in Snowdin was going to argue with him. He worked harder than a majority of the dogs, who could be distracted from work by the waving of a stick.
“.I’ll be going back to work now.you idiots are terribly distracting.try not to die between here and waterfall.”
“The chances of my managing that without you around are significantly lowered,” said Gaster.
“.Sans, go with him and make sure he doesn’t get lost on his way to the ferry.”
“I’m fine now! I can reach the ferry by myself, Sans—“
“.somehow I doubt that.”
“Look, if I was kind of out of it last night it was your fault.”
“.denied.you shouldn’t have trusted me,” he said with a hint of humor.
“I don’t mind,” said Sans. “I’m not doing anything today but sitting on the couch and contemplating reality. I should clean my room and do some final packing but let’s be honest, I’m probably not going to do that.”
“.see?you nerds keep each other company.” He walked to the door, went out, half-closed it, then paused and poked his head back in.
“.Gaster?” Gaster looked up, and Grillbz pointed at him.
“.keep it together, old young dude.no more falling off things.”
“I was thrown.”
“.or that.that’s worse.remember:the club is watching you.don’t you be stupid.”
“Well that’s not menacing at all.”
Grillbz silently glared at him, then went out and shut the door.
“You were… thrown off of something?” Said Sans. Gaster compressed his mouth.
“That’s… yes, I was thrown. It’s complicated.”
“By who?”
Asgore.
“Nevermind.”
“The King?”
Shit I’m stupid.
“I.. yes. Need to remember you can understand me. We had a slight difference of opinion. He’s—well, he was a good friend of mine, things have been a bit tense lately and this isn’t the most encouraging development. Would you mind keeping this to yourself?”
“Nah, sure, that’s tough. We’re still on for building the Core, though, right?”
“Yep.”
Just fucking kill me.
Sounds like he tried.
Nah, no, he wouldn’t, it was a legitimate reaction, I was being kind of a jerk. We’ve been over this before and I know what his policy is, I still tried to intervene.
What is his policy?
Death. Gaster coughed. I NEED to stop blurting out all my thoughts in Wingdings this could get uncomfortable really quickly.
So that was about the human.
It was.
Is dead now?
He’s extracted the fourth soul. So yes. Gaster sighed and snapped his fingers. One closer to breaking down the barrier.
You don’t look happy about it.
Gaster shrugged.
I’m one of those old-fashioned monsters who think the ends never justify the means. Especially for the sake of vengeance. But I can understand why, and I don’t know. . . . He snapped his fingers.
What do you miss most about the—? Above? Don’t know how to say the word, Sans asked to distract him.
The Surface.
Suafce. Surface. Surface, yeah.
Gaster thought for a moment.
The stars. I keep star charts, but there’s no way to check for accuracy. I miss the real ones.
I hear they’re beautiful.
Gaster nodded.
The shiny rocks are nice too.
But if you’ve seen the real ones.
Yes. Exactly. He smiled. You shouldn’t let it bother you though. I’d rather miss the stars in peace.

The snow came almost to Gaster’s knees in the street. Sans was practically swimming through it. When they turned off the main road to reach the ferry he was reduced to moving in little jumps, stopping to catch his breath in between each.
“Why don’t I carry you?” said Gaster, who was having only minor trouble stepping over the snow. Sans, panting, considered for a moment and then held his arms up. Gaster lifted him, then stumbled with a gasp. He recovered immediately and resumed walking.
“Are you OK?”
“Still sore.”
“You can put me down.”
“No, I’m alright. I might as well keep moving.”
Sans felt like he should insist, he’d forgotten about Gaster’s back. But he also felt very comfortable. He reminded himself not to fall asleep. Papyrus carried him like this sometimes, although usually at a dead sprint, which was much less relaxing. And Gaster smelled nice.
…Sans had fallen asleep. He woke with a snort. They were almost to the ferry. So much for being helpful.
“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for naps?”
“There is never a bad time for naps,” said Sans. “Sorry.”
“Do you not sleep well?”
“Eh. Sometimes I stay up late fooling around with stuff. I should really keep a better schedule. Guess I’ll need to soon, heh.”
“I look forward to seeing it. Oh, look!” Gaster sped up. A single flat boat with a prow carved like a dog’s head floated perfectly still in the current. “Riverperson!” The dark hood turned towards them. “I want you to meet Sans!”
“Heya,” said Sans, suddenly wishing that he wasn’t being carried through the snow like a child. It was hard to tell anything for certain about the cloaked figure, but he thought that it jumped a little. They could have been shifting in place, under the cloak.
“I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned him to you but—“
“No.”
The Riverperson’s voice was clear and cold and sent shivers down Sans’s spine.
“So I haven’t—“
“No. Nope. No.” the boat suddenly turned and glided away upstream, towards the woods. “Nope nope nope nope nope.”
“I er—what?”
The boat, moving quickly, was already disappearing from view. A final dulcet ‘nope’ reached them. Gaster was left standing on the dock, still holding Sans. There was a long pause.
“That wasn’t nice!” he shouted finally. Then he set Sans down in the snow. “Sorry about that. That was um. I don’t know? I don’t know what his problem is.”
“Guess they’re just not in the mood to meet new monsters,” said Sans. “I get the feeling.” But he had a sinking feeling. So much for asking the Riverperson for help. Gaster nodded.
“Walk back in my footprints. It should help you a little. Thank you for coming with me.”
“Hey, it was literally no trouble. Thanks for carrying me.” Gaster smiled and gave a stiff half-bow.  “Uh, are you gonna wait for the ferry? There should be one in about half an hour.”
“Yes.”
“OK. Seeya.”
Sans started back, walking where Gaster had broken through the snow. He stopped and looked back before going out of sight, and waved. Gaster seemed to be looking at him, but must have been distracted. He didn’t respond at first, but after several moments, shook himself and waved back. He was darkly visible against the snow and ice, a thin pillar of black. After catching his breath Sans went back to slogging through the snow and quickly lost Gaster in the icy wilderness behind him.

As the turnoff to the deserted road came into view, his foot caught on a branch half-hidden under the snow and he fell on his face. He lay there, running through his reasons for getting back up. They were unconvincing. He shifted to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. He was lying across two of Gaster’s footprints.  

 

A/N: I’m baaaack!

I was oddly unmotivated for the last week of Christmas break, but now I’m writing again. Not that I wasn’t writing before. I was writing, just not this chapter. I kept getting distracted by the randomest things ever. Like, a Grillster blood feud AU fic, a totally random fusion fic, I glanced at another unfinished backstory fic of Sans’ childhood—this one’s from when he was younger, and was going to be fluff but then got smashed completely off track by a runaway Feels Train and now it’s getting really intense and I just kinda put it on hold. I also looked at several of my old Minecraft projects and decided that I’m definitely writing Mythos sometime, but it needs work, so I’m going to focus on this for now. I need to finish While Rome Burns because I left it hanging. Of course, I left it hanging because it’s just the randomest OC-fest known to man. But still. You don’t do that. You don’t leave things unfinished. It needs a conclusion.

Also I made an 8tracks mix for the Riverperson. I rather like it. But I’m biased. Help me out here.

http://8tracks.com/trefoil_/tralala 

Edit: I KEEP HAVING TO EDIT THIS hold on... Aria R is apparently against having her work reposted anywhere, even on a legitimate playlist sharing website and with credit given to her, so I need to take those songs out because I'm not a jerk and common courtesy yo (even though I don't really get why? anyway, it's her property) and so yeah, it's been changed, it's still being changed... after this it should be set though? Maybe? Ugh sorry. I thought I was done with it but then Aria finally got back to me and was like "I'm actually not OK with this plz take it down" and agh
Well, glad I checked with her now. Don't want to make anyone upset. 
Seriously, this goes for anyone, try to respect intellectual property, it makes us sad when you don't. Except for when it just makes us angry. Which is scary. Do not anger the creatives, we have creative ways of ending you. 

Chapter 23: Big Angry Jellies

In which Riverperson needs to stop boating away from their problems. What the hell Riverperson, get your life together. 

Gaster waited.

He was hoping that the Riverperson would come back. They had seemed to be waiting for him. But he hadn’t wanted to say it out loud in case it made them change their mind. They were strange that way.

When they did come back, it took him a moment to notice, because they had done it silently. One moment the river was empty, then the Riverperson’s boat had appearing, floating just below him by the dock. Looking down, Gaster found the hood turned up towards him.
“Care for a ride?”
The Riverperson sounded somewhat subdued. Gaster nodded and stepped down onto the boat, wincing with pain as he sank down to sit cross-legged behind the Riverperson. He didn’t regret carrying Sans. The way he immediately went to sleep, while obviously trying not to, was adorable.
“You’ve had quite a night,” said the Riverperson, who seemed to have noticed his pain.
“Yeah.”
The boat drifted forwards, slowly. The Riverperson was taking their time.
“What’s your problem with Sans?” said Gaster gently. There was a faint sigh from the depths of the cloak.
“No problem.”
The boat continued to drift slowly. After waiting for a few moments Gaster decided that Riverperson wasn’t going to say anything else and continued.
“Is there a reason you’re avoiding him?” The Riverperson did not answer at once.
“I have known Sans for some time. He does not know me. I have been wondering in what way I ought to present myself to him.”
“Oh. So you don’t dislike him. You’ve been watching him and he doesn’t realize it?” Aaand that’s not creepy at all. Especially from Death I’m-not-actually-Death-that’s-a-misconception.
The Riverperson made a disgusted noise.
“That’s close enough for now, although by no means the whole story.”
“What is the whole story then?”
“That is a question which I should answer for Sans. He doesn’t know the whole story yet either. Be there when he asks me, I don’t feel like telling the whole thing twice.”
“Alright. You should figure this out soon though, it’s never good to let things fester. And he probably thinks you don’t like him now.”
“Ugh~ such a pain to deal with the living. Tralala…”

“Dr. Suger?”
“Come in.”
The birdlike monster hopped in and ruffled his feathers nervously. Suger stood with his back to the bird, examining the data on a computer screen. He did not turn. Husk was in a corner, arms crossed, expression neutral.
“I’ve been double-checking preparation for the Core project headed by Dr. Gaster and I have a concern.”
“Do you indeed.”
“Yes sir.”
“You are aware that I’ve reviewed the information myself, yes?”
“Yes, sir, of course, but I just.. wanted to double check that this is alright?”
Suger let out a sigh, just loud enough to be heard, and turned, leaning back against the edge of the table.
“Alright, let’s hear it. What have you found?”
“Er. Well.” The bird pulled a folder out from under its wing with its beak, dropped it open on the floor and rifled through it with one delicate foot. “Here. This is the chart for the Philips Project, showing projected migration patterns for Crawlers after we get the lights set up. And the plans for funneling them away from densely populated areas even before that.”
“I thought you said this was about the Core?”
“Yes sir it is. See, taking the topography of Hotlands into the equation, many of the Crawlers removed from areas in Waterfall will end up around the new lab in Hotland.”
“I’m aware of this. It’s unfortunate, but believe me, it is the least problematic solution out of the many I have considered. We need to make Waterfall safer to live in, and very few monsters live in Hotland. The few that do are quite hardy and tend to have excellent defenses. It’s the best place to move the Crawlers to, although not, of course, perfectly safe. But then, what is these days? The lab is fortified, and it’s to be hoped that most of the Crawlers will die in Hotland long before they come close enough to be a problem. Is that all?”
The bird looked flustered. He glanced at his notes, at Suger, and at his notes again. Then he flipped the folder closed.
“Yes sir. Just… making sure that everything has been accounted for.”
“Oh, it has. Don’t worry yourself with the details, believe me, they’ve already been discussed.”
“Yes of course they have, I just... Thank you for your time.”
He hopped out, letting the door swing shut behind him. Suger smiled.
“What do you think of that, pup?”
“You have a legitimate excuse for chucking Crawlers at Gaster’s lab,” said Husk. “I’m impressed.”
“Legitimate excuse? My young friend, we are helping make the more densely inhabited areas of Waterfall safer for monsters by thinning the horrifically high population of Crawlers in the area, and doing it safely, for once! Simply attacking them, as you know, tends to end in disaster, but they can be turned aside fairly safely, and that’s what I’ve suggested. Herding them, if you will, into less densely populated areas and guarding against their return. Of course, the main delivery area in Hotland leaves no viable route for them except one that goes right past the Core lab. That’s  unfortunate, of course, but I’ve warned Gaster about possible Crawler activity in the area, and I’m sure he’ll be fine. They’re just big angry jellies, after all.”

They had reached Waterfall, and the Riverperson was humming, the boat moving a bit faster. Gaster was lost in thought. Suddenly they hit something, and he slid forwards into the Riverperson’s back. He made a faint sound of surprise. The Riverperson had never so much as brushed a snag in the many times he’d ridden with them. Looking up, he saw the water around them darkened and boiling.
“Oh no.” said the Riverperson.
“Did we… crash into a Crawler?” asked Gaster, staring.
“Curious. Far from home, and going farther.” The boat bucked as the Crawler’s tendrils lashed at it from beneath the surface of the water. They slipped off the sides of the boat as if it were coated in oil. “It doesn’t want to go. Hold on.”
“To what?!” shouted Gaster, looking down at the dark, boiling water on both sides of the boat. The Riverperson did not reply, but the ends of their cloak flowed backwards over Gaster’s knees. So it did move on its own. That was… interesting…
There was a dull thud and the boat began to rise. Tendrils rose out of the water and twisted on all sides of them. Gaster realized that there was a light shining from the far bank. Monsters were standing there with fire magic, staring at them. Had they chased the Crawler this far? Was that why it was so agitated? The Riverperson turned the boat to slide down the Crawler’s side, back into the water, but they were still in the boiling, dark mess where the Crawler was. As it boiled towards the far bank, they pushed back towards the middle the channel, and the cloak dragged Gaster forwards.
“Uh. Hey, I’m… not sure about this…” the cloak ran up over his face and pulled him down under it. Gaster fell forwards and felt the left side of his face bury into something soft. He put out a hand.
“Don’t touch me,” said the Riverperson. Gaster sat up and tried to scoot backwards, but the cloak was holding him in place.
“Listen, I don’t know what you want, but I’m kind of stuck-aaa!” he pitched forward again, this time clunking his cheekbone against something hard.

He must have blacked out for a few moments, because suddenly, he was lying on his back on the boat with the cloak still clinging to his legs like a large, wet dog, and they were speeding away from a ruckus in the darkness behind. He sat up, feeling strangely dizzy and cold.
“What in heck…”
There was some pale substance clinging to the front of his sweater. He brushed it off. It was dust. He touched his cheekbone, which felt oddly numb, and drew his fingers away coated.
“I warned you.” Said the Riverperson. They were back in quiet, luminescent water. The boat began to slow, and the cloak let go of him, sliding back to lie in folds around the Riverperson. Gaster promptly fell over backwards. The smoking blue water closed over his face, and the darkness of the caves was eclipsed in light.

“Exactly,” said Husk. “Big angry jellies which are responsible for the largest number of deaths of anything down here.”
“Well yes, there is that. That’s why we’re trying to move them out of our way in the first place.” Suger turned back to the computer screen.
“The implant appears to have fused with your soul.”
“That’s good?” said Husk.
“For our current purposes, yes. Of course, if you were ever to want to remove it, there would be a problem, but that shouldn’t be a factor for quite some time.” Suger fished a jar of pills out of his lab coat pocket, hopped to Husk and held them out. “You’ll need to take these for a few weeks. Tell me if you notice anything off.”
“Off?” Husk took the pills.
“Oh, you know. Mysterious voices asking you to do dangerous things, dead monsters, bright lights, any of that nonsense.”
“So they’re going to make me hallucinate.”
“Oh no. No no, not likely, though there’s always a small chance. What I’m saying is that I haven’t done extensive testing on the side effects, so you can’t expect a smooth ride.”
“Understood.” Husk pocketed the pills and looked down at Suger, who hadn’t moved away. Suger smiled, and Husk suddenly thought of how sharp his front teeth were, and how close they were to the soft, unprotected fur of his stomach. The hair along his back pricked up.

Gaster was falling through time, and it was a bright, glowing blue. He was submerged in scenes of death. Peaceful deaths, painful deaths, deaths he hadn’t known anyone could die. Deaths he’d never seen before. They filled his skull and scratched at his mind. He could always find a way out of his own memories, but this was too much.

Three cold, high notes cut through the images, and suddenly he saw, through a haze of light blue, a white form standing at the prow of a boat. Diaphanous clothing floated around it, flickering through the water, but what froze him was the light in the figure’s eyes. It blazed like fire and burned like snow.
The figure reached up and caught an edge of its floating hood, pulling it low over its eyes, like a cloud over the sun. Its other hand reached out for him, and the cloak swirled around to cover it. They grabbed him through the cloak and pulled. Gaster fell into the cloak, which swirled him around behind the figure and held him. He closed his fists around two folds of it and held on.
The boat shot prow-first out of the water, and then they were falling. Gaster heard a rushing sound, and then they were lost in a haze of vapor, and he knew that they’d gone over a waterfall. The water splashed up around them and he fell to his knees. They glided smoothly forwards, the haze faded, and then the front of the boat slid onto the bank. Gaster recognized where they were, one of the pools not far from his house. He tried to speak and instead began spitting up water darkened with ectoplasm.
“I told you not to touch me.” Said the Riverperson. “And to keep your hands and feet inside the boat.”
Gaster, too scattered even to swear, jumped off the boat and found himself in water up to his pelvis. It didn’t do anything odd to his mind, so he waded through it, pulled himself up the bank, and walked several paces into the rubbery undergrowth before pitching forward onto his face and lying with his hands knotted around the stems, breathing in the smell of the dirt, finding the tiny veins of bioluminescence on the undersides of the leaves. Breathing. Breathing. Feeling the pulse of his soul.

There was a rustle among the leaves, and the Riverperson, again wrapped closely in their cloak, sank down nearby, hood turned towards him.
“Are you alright.”
Gaster nodded.
“I just need a minute.”
“Good.”
They went. He heard their song drifting away into the darkness, slow and solemn.
He had to stand up. If he kept laying there he’d lose track of time, and he knew he couldn’t afford to do that. It took him several minutes, but finally he was up on his feet, soaked clothes hanging heavy around him, reeling back towards his house. He waded straight across several channels, not bothering to find a better crossing when he was already wet. Finally he reached his own door, fumbled it open, shut it and leaned against it, in his very own darkness. He lit the crystals and searched through his spinning mind for what it was he had to do. A cat walked across the living room, sparing a brief glance for him, and he snapped his fingers. The cats. He had to get the cats out of the house. That was it.

But first he needed some tea. He glanced at the clock. He had time. He thought. His mind was shifting around so much he had trouble internalizing what time was meant by the position of the hands. He stared, willing himself to understand. Yes. Yes, he had time. He thought.

Suger glanced at the clock.
“What?” said Husk, pausing at the door. Suger smiled and pulled a crab apple from his pocket.
“Gaster’s mandatory mental health consultation is in five minutes. I’ll bet you this crab apple that he doesn’t show up.”
“You think he’s forgotten?”
“After we acquired the orange soul yesterday, he went to see Asgore, had a rather serious fall from a window, and then disappeared. He may manage to show up in the lab at something close to the agreed time, but I don’t expect more of him.”
“You know everything.”
“It’s what I do, pup.” There was a soft pop as he snapped a leg from the crab apple and tapped it against his teeth.
“When you get to where I am, you have to know everything.”
He smiled, and began nibbling at the leg of the crab apple. Husk bowed his head to him and went out.

 

A/N: OK so
Can we just
Appreciate
Gaster trying to give life advice
To Death
Also Gaster almost dying a really trippy death and RP just bein like “I warned ya. Spatio-temporal weirdness, risk of life and limb, and danger to sanity are assumed when you ride on the boat. It’s all on the contract that I read off to you very fast that first time you got on.”
OK WOAH NO WAIT that idea is hilarious
Now I’m just imagining what a ‘Ride on the Boat?’ contract would look like
“Sign here if you’re OK with the fact that I reserve the right to drop you off in Challenger Deep if I decide I don’t like your face halfway through the trip”

Chapter 24: Cats and Water

Summary:

WE ARE AT AN EVEN
100 COMMENTS
AND
150 KUDOS
THESE ARE VERY RESPECTABLE NUMBERS FOR ME, I LIKE THESE NUMBERS
THANK YOU FOR BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR THESE NUMBERS YOU MAKE ME HAPPY EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU

In which a shy song rises. 

The cats did not want to leave the house.

Even if Gaster hadn’t been completely scattered, it wouldn’t have been easy, and although time seemed to be behaving in a strangely non-linear fashion, he understood that it was passing rather faster than he needed it to, so he scooped up two armfuls of the most docile cats and splashed out into Waterfall.

There was an old stable on a relatively dry island, comparatively not too far away, insofar as anything was close to Gaster’s house. It didn’t seem to belong to anyone in particular, and the roof had been gradually sagging lower and lower until Gaster did some sloppy repairs on it the year before. Wood was hard to come by in the Underground, and the stable itself probably hadn’t been salvaged for parts only because it was hidden so deep in Waterfall. Being a complete wreck, and looking worryingly likely to cave in on anyone who tried to pry a board loose, probably helped as well. Gaster wondered, again, where on earth it had come from in the first place.

As he waded through the smoking blue water towards the stable with squirming cats in his arms, he could hear melodic singing from the stable, a voice that was both warmer and thinner than the Riverperson’s. He stumbled climbing up onto the island and several of the cats sprang free and ran away into the underbrush to sulk at the horrible treatment. He let them go. They’d be safe on the island.

The singing stopped abruptly as he walked into the stable, and the small amphibious monster turned quickly, almost guiltily towards him. The stiff stalks of dried fungus that covered the floor instead of hay rustled softly at her movement. Gaster hummed the end of the stanza and politely did not make eye contact. She relaxed, and he put the rest of the cats down. They scattered, sniffing suspiciously at their new surroundings.
“Are those all of them?” whispered Shyren. She was half-hidden in her hair, and when she wasn’t singing, her voice was hollow and childish.
“Not yet. I had trouble collecting all of them from the house, do you think you could help me?”
Shyren nodded and slithered across the floor towards him.

She moved through the water like an angel. On land she moved like a self-conscious cross between a snake and a seal, which was effective and cute in its own way, but in the water she was perfectly at home. The shimmering water cradled her small body perfectly and she slid through it without a sound, often pausing to wait for Gaster, who was wading much slower, with water coming sometimes to his chest and sometimes to his knees. He’d taken his wet coat off, but his clothes still hung heavily on him. In the shallow places, he could see pond-grass rippling beneath his feet through a haze of blue.

His house was supposed to be unfindable by outsiders, but it could be stumbled across by someone who explored Waterfall diligently, as Shyren did. She had known where it was for some time but had mostly stayed away. Her own reclusiveness made her respectful of others’ boundaries.

Getting to know his neighbor was not nearly as easy, it seemed, as finding his house by accident. He had stumbled across her sometimes while on walks, petting one of the outside cats or singing beautiful, haunting ballads that would be cut off when she heard someone coming. At their first few meetings she’d avoided eye contact, and after a few quiet attempts at making conversation, to which she responded with obvious discomfort, Gaster had moved on. Sometimes he’d glimpsed her following him, curiously, for a short distance. He thought that she became more interested after catching him singing one day—their positions had been reversed; Gaster had found himself cutting off a song with barely-stifled swearing when he nearly stepped on her floating in a pool half-covered in pond weed, and saw her darting out from under his feet in a shining ripple of disturbed water. Finally one day she had swum silently up to him and asked in a whisper if he liked the stars—he’d been staring up at the glittering rocks in the ceiling. He had flinched dramatically, slipped, and gone facedown in the water. Sometimes a whisper is more startling than a greeting in an ordinary voice. Shyren went into paroxysms of dismay and it took him half an hour to calm her down: by the time he’d succeeded, they were friends.

They accepted each other’s idiosyncrasies. Gaster knew better than to ask her to sing when she was silent, or to compliment her voice, which only made her squirm. He either listened in silence or accepted hers. And since he often took long walks during times when he was feeling especially scattered, Shyren could tell when he was feeling out of it. It didn’t frighten her, and if he didn’t respond to a gentle attempt to draw him back to the real world she would leave him to his own devices.

They reached his island and Gaster paused for a moment to catch his breath.
“The outside cats will probably be just fine,” he said. “You’ll just need to keep an eye on them. They already know how to catch bugs, maybe the occasional fish. I don’t see some of them for weeks at a time. The inside cats will need help adjusting.”
Shyren nodded and Gaster began the harrowing task of trying to turn all the cats out of his house without missing any, mentally ticking them off the list he clung desperately to through a haze of unrelated information.
How lucky, my lady, is your lover
His happiness is like that of the gods
For there he sits, seeing you laugh
And here am I, silently tortured
For I am not he
……
But Aristarchus has brought out a book consisting of certain hypotheses, wherein it appears, as a consequence of the assumptions made, that the universe is many times greater than the "universe" just mentioned. His hypotheses are that the fixed stars and the sun remain unmoved, that the earth revolves about the sun on the circumference of a circle, the sun lying in the middle of the orbit, and that the sphere of the fixed stars, situated about the same center as the sun, is so great that the circle in which he supposes the earth to revolve bears such a proportion to the distance of the fixed stars as the center of the sphere bears to its surface.
Yes, Aristarchus, it is large. You were right, but wrong. It is so very, very large, but how could you know? It is not easy for mankind to accept the infinite.
Flecks of dust caught along invisible filaments of light spanning a measureless void. Galaxies caught like drops of dew in cobwebs of hydrogen gas.
The shock in the human world at the realization that their world travelled an ellipse and not a simple circle as they had always assumed. Circles were perfection, they said. Circles were, at any rate, easily mathematically understood, by human scientific standards. Perhaps it was understandable, their reaction of shock at the unknown. But he found it dizzying to think of the vastness of the universe, and how little they still knew of it. The strained but stable tilt of the ellipse was fitting, after all, for such a strained, frenetic, yet beautiful world.
“I think that’s all of them now,” he heard himself saying, and mentally ran over the list a few times. No, wait—the two speckled kittens! No, he’d remembered them, they were there. The fourth tabby? Yes, he remembered removing it from the house, it was probably sulking in the underbrush—there it was, down by the water, glaring at him. That really was all of them. Relief washed over him.

He’d left the door open. One of the black cats flung itself between his legs and back into the house. He followed to catch it.

Finally, he was done. He’d collected and packed the last few things, he’d cleaned and put away the mugs he’d used, and Psammites the most ancient of his cats was watching him doubtfully but trustfully from the back of the couch. Psammites was coming to Hotland. Gaster didn’t want to leave him behind in a drafty stable. He mainly spent his days sleeping on a cushion, anyway, and unlike most of the other cats, wouldn’t mind being confined to Gaster’s room at the lab.

There was a train station nearly twice the distance of the stable from Gaster’s house in the opposite direction. The station was a built-up stone platform meant to stand above water level even when unusually large amounts of water came down from the Surface, but there was no road, and sometimes it became a tiny island of stone surrounded by a sea of smoking blue. Gaster, noticing how the water lapped around the edges of his island, guessed that today was one of those days.

He’d prepared a raft for the event. It was made of hammered-together materials salvaged from the dump. Alphys had given him a lot of help with finding parts—it had been an ongoing pet physics project, which had only actually been finished about a week before. Gaster was pleased to see that it held up with all of his luggage on it. He put down Psammites’ favorite pillow on a box settled stably near the center and put Psammites on the pillow. Psammites looked tensely at the water but did not offer to flee, which was encouraging. Gaster shoved the raft free, then jumped onto it. It bobbed gently in the water, and he smiled at its stability. It had turned out even better than he’d hoped. Turning, he looked at his own island—it looked different from this angle, floating above the water. At times it wasn’t a true island, being connected to one of the many chains of high ground crisscrossing Waterfall, but today it was lapped in blue on almost all sides. He turned away from it and formed his shield half-sunken in the water ahead of the raft, in the direction of the station, and pulled. The raft drifted forwards, nose digging into the water, sending out ripples around them. Psammites crouched low on his pillow, but the raft was moving smoothly, and he didn’t seem terribly frightened.

By the time the abandoned station came into view the water was shallow, only about chest high. Gaster stripped off his clothes, jumped down and began pushing the raft. It was much simpler than using his shield as a paddle. Psammites compressed himself into an unhappy ball at the soft sounds of disturbed water.
“Aren’t you industrious.” Gaster fumbled his hold on the raft, which had a good bit of momentum built up, and nearly fell over into the water behind it.
“You again?”
“Yes.”
“You might have helped me.”
“I wasn’t in the mood. Besides, I don’t carry luggage. It seems grossly mercenary, don’t you think?”
Gaster grunted. Psammites was now half-standing on his pillow, neck stretched out towards the Rivperperson as he strained to smell without leaving his place of safety. The boat kept pace perfectly with the raft, without any apparent guidance from the Riverperson.
“Good to see you getting some exercise, though I didn’t think you were the type to run around nude.”
“Why are you here?”
“To converse. And definitely not admire the flexibility of your naked body.”
Gaster laughed.
“I’m a skeleton. And a badly broken skeleton, at that.”
“And yet you can push a raft.”
Gaster sighed. He’d started drifting to the side, where the water was deeper, and it was hard to turn the raft from this position.
“You seem unhappy with your lot in life. Shall I sing?”
“Is that your standard reaction? And no, actually, I’m quite contented. A bit puzzled now perhaps. What do you want?”
“To sing you a ditty.” The Riverperson ran off into a lilting aria in what sounded like Italian. Psammites flattened his ears in distaste. The front of the raft crunched onto stone, and after some splashing, quiet swearing, and angling of the raft Gaster got it wedged stably against the side of the station and climbed up himself. The Riverperson, still singing, hopped up beside him, and the boat glided off by itself into the wastelands of Waterfall, as if it had a purpose. Gaster rattled his bones vigorously to shake the water off, spraying the Riverperson, who didn’t seem to mind, and Psammites, who did. Gaster apologized and lifted his box onto the station, where Psammites cautiously sat up and examined his new surroundings. The rise of stone was empty except for them and a battered phone booth. Water lapped over the railroad tracks and stretched shimmering into the darkness. Gaster inched down the raft, picked his clothes up, tossed them onto the station and used his shield to shift the rest of his luggage after them. The raft floated free of the station when he jumped back up. The Riverperson looked at it.
“What are you doing with the raft?”
“Taking it apart and bringing it with me.”
“Why?”
Gaster shrugged.
“You never ask for my help.”
“You just implied that giving practical help when it’s actually needed wasn’t your style. And I don’t exactly have your cell phone number.”
“Say my name and I’ll consider your plea.”
“You have a name now?”
“I answer to Carl.”
“Carl!?”
“Sometimes.”
“You answer to Carl!”
“Sometimes. Put your pants on.”
“Skeletons don’t need pants!” he put them on anyway. “Carl? Carl! Why Carl?”
“Because it’s a jerkass name. There’s a train coming.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Gaster quickly wriggled into his sweater.
“That’s surprisingly self-deprecating of you.”
“It is truthful. I see no point in falsehood.”
“Well isn’t that nice. Carl!”
“Don’t wear it out, I may grow tired of it.” Riverperson Carl sighed. “Don’t worry about your raft.” Gaster turned his head, sensing motion, and saw the boat gliding off with the raft in tow. He stared silently after them, then at the Riverperson.
“Is the boat alive?”
“That’s a confused question. Had you asked, does it think on its own, I might be able to answer you.”
“Does it?”
“Not without me.”
“And the cloak?”
“Yes.”
“Ye.. yes? What?”
The Riverperson hummed.
“And where’s the train, anyway?”
“What train?”
“You said there was a train coming.”
“There is a train coming, somewhere.”
“Somewhere?”
“Of course.”
Gaster considered shoving them off the station into the water.
“Don’t.” said the Riverperson.

 

A/N:  I don’t know a lot about the mystery rooms in Undertale, but evidently there is/was/was at some point going to be at least one ‘stable,’ which seems to be connected with Gaster maybe possibly conceivably in hypotheticals, and I thought of that during this chapter and decided to use it.

References:

Sappho 31, very very much paraphrased, like The Wanderer was—we translated a Latin translation of this in class and then I regurgitated a degraded version of the first stanza translation translation from memory for this chapter, so it’s… pretty far removed from the original, lol

Archimedes, The Sand Reckoner

The Cosmic Web

The train scene in Spirited Away

The ‘Dammit Carl’ memes, an Undertale version of which exists here. Also do you know who originally made this? Because it's beautiful but I can't find a reliable original source.  Edit: found the correct person, the link goes to the original now! Hooray! 

Also.

I’ve been wondering how accurate the fic summary is now that it’s expanded past the first arc? I asked Speedy Jellyfish what it should be and got
“Skeleton dude-bro hires other skeleton dude-bro for dangerous project.  Hijinks ensue.”
…I’m not using that one, but it made me laugh. Anyone else got ideas? Also, here’s a little silliness to celebrate 100 even comments on AO3 and 80 even reviews on FFN, which are amazing numbers and make me really happy. Thank you!

Concise three word descriptions:

Speedy Jellyfish and Liz both gave me really great concise descriptions of characters that made me happy because I just have never been able to think of things like this. And then I dragged in Alias. And it was great.

Speedy Jellyfish
Yoro: He’s a chill wolf bro
Tahoma: Caffeinated doctor-dad-bro.
Suger: Small jerkface un-bro.
Riverperson: Vague doom-rhyming androgynous-bro-person.

Liz
Sans is such a squishy scary badass.

Convenient Alias
Sans is a soldier of justice.
Riverperson is a surreal androgynous Charon.

Author 
Riverperson is tapping on the fourth wall to tell me to stop writing naked Gaster scenes STOP IT YOU'RE MAKING IT SOUND LIKE I HAVE A PROBLEM, I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM, THIS IS ONLY THE SECOND AND THEY BOTH WERE CALLED FOR IN CONTEXT, ALSO HE'S AN OLD SCIENCE SKELETON DUDE, WHY EVEN WOULD YOU Okay I'm just making it worse I'll stop DAMMIT CARL. (See, I'm not as good at these.) 

Reader
?????: ??? ??? ???

Chapter 25: The Uncomfortable Kodama

In which CARL YOU JERK 

Gaster was the only one in his car on the trip to New Home. He took the opportunity to relax, watching the flickers of blue pass in the black outside the windows, stroking Psammites and soothing his mind into order.

His worst struggle had been accepting the new structure of his mind, that it might be a methodical madness. For a long time he’d been afraid of himself, and that had made everything worse. Chaotic impressions, memories, thoughts, flickered across his consciousness and confused what he was doing at the moment.

He shouldn’t have come back. He’d convinced himself of that, and the idea had stuck. That was what had hurt him the most. He’d spent years fighting his own mind without realizing that it was his ally.

It was after he’d moved to Waterfall, some time after the royal children had died, that the change came. He’d been calm, calmer than he usually felt. He had seen no one for weeks and he was learning to trust in his own self-reliance. He’d been lying on his back in a small cave, more of a pocket in the rock wall, watching the reflections from the surface of the water dance across the stone. All at once he saw his own mind clearly. One track was calculating the frequency of the waves, another was wondering what made the water shine like that. Yet another was aware of his own body, the way it lifted up and down with the waves, and the cold feel of the water. There were also a stream of memories involving water, or things relating to water, or things relating to something in something else that he’d thought of in the last half hour. He could see all of them at once, and for the first time he imagined his thoughts as parallel strands instead of a tangled mess.

It only lasted a fraction of a second, because almost immediately he reacted to the unknown with panic, and the strands tangled into a disorienting mess again. He lay there for several hours, letting them separate out again.
So far he’d only been able to get things done by drowning out the sound of his own mind, which left him only frayed scraps of consciousness to work with. His hands often shook, and he’d forget how to verbalize in the middle of a sentence. When both happened at once he’d be entirely unable to communicate, even with Wingdings, which terrified him and made it worse.
That day he waited until he was completely aware of the contours of his mind before he tried to stand.
Wars and a man I sing, he said, to give himself something else to focus on, and the part of his mind devoted to the present latched onto it. He stood, the water lapping around his shins.
Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato profugus, Laviniaque venit litora, multum ille et terris iactatus et alto vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob iram;
The water rippling into the distance, the darkness and the false stars above,
Multo quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem,
The thudding stress of the syllables in the lines,
Inferretque deos Latio, genus unde Latinum, Albanique patres, atque altae moenia Romae.  
He held to the words as to a lifeline. They kept him upright.
By the time he’d located his house he was becoming overexcited, but not, for once, from terror. The shattered mess that was his mind had calmed into a glittering kaleidoscopic backdrop for his present thoughts. It didn’t have to drown him out, he realized. As long as he remained calm, his mind was his own.

Of course it wasn’t that easy. He still had to teach himself how to think again, from the ground up, like a child. At the slightest provocation he’d lose track of himself, begin to get scrambled, panic because he was getting scrambled, and then become completely lost in the feeling of panic. But now that he’d learned not to think of his mind as an enemy, he could always separate the chaos out into layers that made sense. It helped to give himself something else to think of, and he buried himself in science. What was it about the water in Waterfall? It came down from the surface, didn’t it? So why did it shine? In theory the water should be purified by its trip through the mountain, but maybe it picked up some substance from the rock—but what would that be? He’d never heard of an effect like this, and the filtration of water through layers of ground was fairly well understood by this time. Many of the Underground’s flora was bioluminescent, did that have something to do with it? To his surprise, nobody had addressed these questions yet.

When Alphys first came to visit him, he’d had four books open on the floor. He was scanning one page in each and processing the information while reading the page in the next book, and so on. He didn’t need the distraction at that point, but he was testing himself, feeling the exhilaration of anyone doing something right for the first time—skating fast and smooth without falling down, or riding a bike with hands in the air.
Alphys had been so weirded out by his pastime that he’d stopped doing it, at least when other monsters were around. And he’d started spending more time in the city. Alphys had been in college at that time and the stress was nearly killing her. He visited the campus with cookies and somehow befriended most of the science department. He was introduced to new areas of study and became fascinated with the advances in physics, which seemed like they ought to have been taken much farther than they had. Why wasn’t anyone working on this? He was met with shrugs and uninterested expressions, so he took it upon himself. He visited Asgore with some blueprints for a better generator and Asgore had immediately appointed him head of the rapidly-dwindling-into-obscurity Physics department, without mentioning any of their former disagreements. Gaster hadn’t either, until the fiasco concerning the fourth floor window.

And now here he was, on a train, perfectly calm, letting the forefront of his mind rest, while parts of him darted across three different periods of memory and calculated the momentum of the train. On another layer, he picked at an unsolved equation. Would converting to base four help? No. Nothing would help. Don’t say that, the equation makes sense, it ought to have a solution. Rearrange. Examine. What haven’t you tried?

In the present, Psammites was purring. The pleasant mammalian warmth of his fur soaked Gaster’s fingerbones.

He was here. He was alright. It was a beautiful feeling.

The train pulled into New Home in the early evening. Gaster had a little over an hour of gap time. He put his luggage in the station, tucked Psammites into the front of his coat, and started the walk to the lab to lock up his office for the last time in the foreseeable future.

Compared to Waterfall, New Home was arid and claustrophobic. The serene glimmer from the water and the occasional moonlight-colored glowmoth was replaced with frenetic bursts of electricity interrupted by the pitch black of areas suffering a blackout. Crystals glinted feebly here and there, and there was the occasional sneaking suspicion of smoke. Fires were forbidden in New Home, as the ceiling was low and the smoke had nowhere to go except into everyone else’s homes. Some monsters could use fire magic to cook and keep the creeping cold of the darkness at bay, but not all. According to urban legend, Asgore had once wandered up to an illegal bonfire and warmed his paws while chatting with the instigators. Later when asked about it he’d laughed. “Honestly? I forgot fires were illegal. So… don’t do it again? If I’m looking?” wink.
The big fuzzy doof. Gaster sighed, walking through a black area with a flicker of fire magic to light his way. Asgore should be in a blanket fort with his children, judging a competition for the last slice of pie, not angsting about his duties as king and waiting for the next potential soul harvest to fall down.

Someone had ignored the note on his office door and shoved a report under it. An unstapled report, which was now scattered across the floor. Gaster collected the pieces and gave them a glance. Something something chemistry. Why was this supposed to interest him? He turned on his computer to check his emails and waited for it to boot up, shifting Psammites’ weight against his chest. A sound he’d heard upon entering the room resumed. Something like—nibbling? He turned.

Suger was leaning against the wall behind him, gnawing at a crab apple.

Gaster blinked. “Hello!”
“There you are. I was wondering if you were alright.”
“I am. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Suger cocked his head in a way that made Gaster frantically search his mind for what he’d forgotten to do. He didn’t think there was anything.
“Yes?”
“You had a mental health consultation earlier today. At least, you were supposed to.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Shit.
“Whoops.”
Maybe if you hadn’t scheduled it without my input and offhandedly informed me of it at the end of an email about something more important—
“Sorry, my mistake. I completely forgot, with everything else I had to do today.”
“Mm.” Suger crunched crab apple, looking at him with his watermelon pink eyes. “I’d hoped you would be able to remember something that simple.”
“Yeah, you know me, I forget stuff.”
“Yes, and in the Hotlands that could become a serious issue.”
“I’ll tell you if it does.”
“You can’t rely on your assistant for everything, Gaster. The poor girl needs to have a life.”
Gaster opened and shut his mouth silently. Suger reached up and grabbed his arm, about to continue. There was a feline shriek. Psammites erupted out of Gaster’s coat and fell in a whirlwind of fur and claws onto Suger’s head. Suger flung him off onto the floor.
“AAAAA JESUS”
“DON’T HURT MY CAT!”
Gaster gathered up the furiously spitting, wiggling Psammites in his arms.
“You brought a—an animal into the lab?”
“This is Psammites, most ancient of my cats. I call him Sammy.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Watch your fucking language!”
Suger widened his eyes and made calming motions with both paws in an overexaggerated way that made Gaster even angrier.
“Gaster, I can’t believe you. Get it out. It’s a contaminant.”
Gaster stopped himself from giving a description of Psammites’ fastidious cleaning habits.
“I was just coming to my office to check emails and pick up the papers that some imbecile had to fling all over my floor! He wouldn’t have touched the floor if it weren’t for you!”
“Gaster, you’re being unreasonable.”
Gaster took a deep breath and tucked the calmer Psammites into his coat.
“Is there anything else you have to tell me?”
“Get the cat out of the lab. And read the memo I sent you.”
“Yes, I saw it.”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes!” Well, he’d skimmed it. It was more like a manifesto than a memo. He’d have to glance at it again, because the way Suger was looking at him was making him paranoid.
“There is one more thing.”
Gaster looked expectantly at him.
“That skeleton you hired.”
“Yes.”
“His HP is listed as one. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you hire him?”
“He’s not going to fall over and die, Dr. Suger, unless we starve him, which I don’t plan on doing.”
“I looked at his files and I’m.. concerned. At your motives.”
“If you’re going to say I hired him because he’s a skeleton—“
“Oh I hadn’t thought of that. No. It’s.. the complete lack of qualifications, the bad history…”
“If you mean by that that he hasn’t graduated college that’s true, but he’s taken several courses and he’s a fast learner. I pick minds, not degrees. I think it’s a good policy even when you’re not on a skeleton budget. Pun intended.”
“He admits to having been fired three times. I’m guessing probably more. And he has no experience in this area.”
“Then he’s never been fired for being bad at science. Also, one of those times was because he got caught solving the Marvelli Problem during work hours.”
Suger blinked.
“He did it?”
“Yes. By converting to base seven and doing all kinds of mental mathematical acrobatics. I was impressed, but also a bit jealous. I’d been working on that one myself. Never even came close.”
“Hm. Perhaps it’s worth it, then.” Suger shrugged.
“If you really had a problem with him, couldn’t you have brought it up sooner?”
“Alphys recently implied that you hired him because he was unstable and you were concerned about his safety. That’s not an acceptable reason.”
Alphys what?
“Alright, then, good luck. I’ll schedule another consultation for you. Be careful, Gaster.”
“Yes sir,” said Gaster nettlingly. He didn’t believe the note of sincerity in the last sentence. Then again, what did he really have against Suger? Rumors and whispers, and his own guesses. It was clear that Suger had something against him personally, but that didn’t mean he was evil. And Gaster himself could be biased.

Gaster was upset, with himself for missing his appointment and with Suger for being Suger, and he was confused. Normally Alphys didn’t talk to Suger. Did she really dislike Sans enough to complain to Suger about him? He couldn’t believe it.

He was so flustered that he got on the train without collecting his luggage or looking for Alphys, and only noticed when he was, again, in an empty car speeding into darkness. No—mostly empty. There was a kodama of about Sans’ height sitting in the furthest away corner, very still, with hands on his knees and a stiff, neutral smile.

Was he being unreasonable? He couldn’t tell. He took deep breaths, watching the lights of New Home flicker past, with more and more darkness in between. He wasn’t crazy, he knew that. And yet he didn’t like the thought of explaining his sanity to someone inclined to disbelief in it. Anyway, there was nothing really—

Oh. Great.

Now that it had occurred to him, he wasn’t going to be able to forget it.

Had anyone else ever seen the Riverperson? His Riverperson—Carl—he knew there was a real Riverperson, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been… imagining another one. That almost seemed easier to believe than that he’d met them in whatever strange state he’d been in for that missing year. But then, what about the rest of his memories from that time?

Well, this was something he could clear up right away.

“Carl,” he said, and waited.

Nothing happened—except that the Kodama looked sideways at him and scooted a half inch closer to the wall without changing its expression. Gaster was suddenly afraid.

 

A/N: This is the end of 25 chapters and the first arc of the story—I’ve decided to put it into ‘arcs’ to make it slightly more organized.

I cleaned up this first arc a bit, made some minor edits on past chapters. And because I don’t approve of gaslighting, here they are.

On FFN, I fixed the mangled dialogue for Grillbz in Ch. 4 and the Froggit and Froggit-speaking Gaster in Ch. 10.  
“Tau” is now “Tavi” in Ch. 16.
The biggest change is in Ch. 5, where I rewrote a whole scene. I didn’t change anything major, but there were a few things that I didn’t have fully developed in my mind at first when I wrote that chapter, that I wanted to go back and tweak so that they fit better with where the rest of the story is going. Most blatantly, Gaster totally gets knocked over backwards this time, because I’ve decided that Grillbz is actually really heavy and no way is everyone’s favorite fragile skeleton going to be able to withstand a flying hug tackle from that.

If this is your first time reading and these changes have already been implemented then ignore this. Pretend I had everything planned out perfectly the first time.

Also. I’m going to see about making a different playlist for each arc. Hey, stop cringing! Nobody is making you listen to them, I’m just having fun!

Oh, and! Itinerant Reader gave me some very good concise three-word descriptions:

Alphys – self-depreciating jumpy nerd
Gaster – scattered quirky genius
Sans – fragile roly-poly powerhouse
Papyrus - passionate eternal optimist

Feel free to make your own! Or not. I’m enjoying these so much mostly because I’m not good at them. It’s just so cool to see these because it’s a new way of thinking of them that I may not ever have thought of before.
So far all the Sans ones have been really great. Fragile roly-poly powerhouse ftw, that’s beautiful.
What can I say, I LIKE WORDS

Oh, disclaimer: I am not a psych major, these are fictional characters, no weird mental states are supposed to be accurate portrayals of or even (unless otherwise stated) analogous to real life examples.

Chapter 26: Brotherly Bonding and Eldritch Evils [Arc II]

Summary:

Arc II: Another Medium

In which the abyss gazes also. 

Sans was spending his last night in Snowdin not actually in Snowdin. He and Papyrus were sitting in The Car, working on Grillbz’ farewell gift, which was rather lavish considering skeletons’ low tolerance for alcohol. Papyrus was doing alright, he instinctively knew not to push his boundaries. Sans should really be more like his cool brother.

Sans had been the one to suggest going to The Car. He’d wandered back home shortly before Papyrus got off work, and after dinner the house suddenly seemed blank and empty and unreal.

The Car was mired down in the mud at the edge of the Dump, close to the dark abyss into which a constant stream of incandescent water poured. It swallowed up all light, simply absorbing it all until it was nothing but the feeble ghost of a gleam in the ultimate night. Light had no chance to reflect, as there was nothing out there. It only spilled into the emptiness and died out.

Nobody knew what was down there. Nobody cared to check.

The Car, however, was safe. It was on a rise, where the ground was hard enough to support it. There was high ground stretching from it to the abyss, and a short distance into the Dump. They had actually gotten The Car running once, after years of tinkering, and driven it a short distance before it sank down in the mud. The gas tank was rusted and only held a small amount of gas, but Papyrus regularly dribbled some in and sat in the driver’s seat with the lights on, playing with the windshield wipers and pretending he was on a highway. It had been a while since the last time Sans had come with him.

They were sitting nestled deep in the sagging seats, watching the warm haze from the headlights fade out over the abyss, with music playing. The car had a tape player, and Sans had at one point made a bunch of mixtapes with mostly human songs of staticy quality from tapes that had washed down. The Dump was a good place to find things. Never what you were looking for, but almost always something of interest. He’d found one of the old mixtapes floating at about chest height near his dresser and decided to bring it with him. Its tendency to ignore the power of gravity did not seem to impair its ability to function. At the moment it was playing a chill ambient ballad with distorted guitar plucking.
And so she woke up
Woke up from where she was, lyin’ still
Sayin’ I’ve gotta do something
About where we’re going
Step on a steam train
Step out of the driving rain, maybe
Run from the darkness in the night
“IT’S NOT THAT DARK HERE,” said Papyrus, almost quietly. Sans turned his head to look at him. He had one leg drawn up beside the steering wheel, wrist on his knee.
“Huh?”
“EVERYONE SAYS IT’S SO DARK. AND IT MUST BE TERRIBLE FOR ANYONE WHO’S AFRAID OF THE DARK! I JUST MEANT, IT’S NOT REALLY SO BAD AS LONG AS YOU HAVE A LITTLE LIGHT. LOOK HOW FAR IT GOES. IT’S PRETTY.”
Sans followed the track of light across the mud and into the abyss with his eyelights and nodded silently. Several moments passed.
“ER, SANS?” said Papyrus in a different, more alert tone. Sans thought he knew what he was looking at—he’d been looking at it, too, in a calm, uncomprehending way. The track of light appeared bent at the rightmost edge, as if the darkness were eating into it on that side, where it spilled over the water. Then, in a single, slimy, laborious motion, the darkness heaved itself up out of the water, onto the high ground, and slumped there. Papyrus drew his breath in.
“Well lookit,” said Sans. “another Crawler.”
As they watched, a glimmer of magic passed through the dark shape. Sans, looking more carefully, could see a faint halo of white light hanging around the almost formless form. It disrupted the light from the headlights.
“WHAT’S IT DOING HERE? THEY NEVER COME HERE. WHAT IF CHILDREN COME DOWN HERE IN THE MORNING? I KNOW SEVERAL THAT DO, AND THEY’RE NOT NEARLY AS CAREFUL AS THEY SHOULD BE!”
“Papy. Shhh.”
It didn’t seem interested in them, or the headlights, yet. It seemed tired. Again Sans saw the flicker of magic from deep within the slimy darkness.
“HE’S… EATEN SOMEONE.”
“Yeah. See the halo?”
“HOW AWFUL.”
Both of them knew that Crawlers which had absorbed a monster, or more than one, tended to be much more aggressive. Would turning off the light make them less of an annoyance to the creature, or take away their only source of protection?
Again, that glimmer from inside, like lighting from deep within a cloud, if only Sans had known what clouds were. The Crawler began moving in a tired, experimental fashion, sending out tendrils over the muddy high ground. It didn’t seem to want to go back into the water. Watching it, Sans felt disgust growing in his soul, then anger.
“Let’s knock it off.”
“WHAT?”
“Knock it off the edge. The Dump will be safe then. And there’ll be one less of these things.”
“HOW?”
“Ram it.”
“THE CAR WON’T MOVE.”
Sans opened the door and fell, more than stepped, out. The pull of gravity seemed strangely uneven for some reason. This probably should have concerned him more than it did.
“Start the engine,” said Sans, wrapping The Car in blue magic. Papyrus gave him a shocked look, but complied, and gave the gas pedal a gentle push. The wheels ground a slow turn through the mud. Sans pushed. In a glimmer of blue and a muddy sucking sound, The Car rolled free. 
“WHA—SANS, YOU DID IT! WOWIE! TELEKINESIS IS COOL!”
Sans looked at the Crawler, which they were now one car length closer to, and saw that it was pouring itself further onto the high ground, turning slowly towards them. He flung himself into The Car and slid across to sit on Papyrus’s lap.
“I’ll steer, you just keep your foot on the gas. I’m going to try a physics experiment.”
“ALRIGHT, BUT BE CAREFUL!”
“What are you doing?”
“APPLYING MY SEAT BELT! SEAT BELTS ARE IMPORTANT WHILE DRIVING, ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE GOING TO DO SOMETHING DANGEROUS!”
Sans chuckled. The Crawler was still moving, a little faster now. That was bad. If it got away from the edge of the abyss, they might not have enough force to push it over, and might just make it angry. And if it was moving towards them its own momentum would neutralize some of theirs.
“ARE YOU READY? ARE YOU SURE?”
“Gun it, bro.”
The Car leapt forwards with a screech of rust. The Crawler stopped in what might have been confusion, if that was something that Crawlers felt. Sans felt a maniacal grin frozen across his face.
“Alright, keep it steady.” As they came up on the Crawler, Sans gave the steering wheel a deliberate twist to the side.
“AAAAAAAAA!” Papyrus wrapped his arms around Sans. The car skidded out of control and hit the Crawler sideways and half-airborne. There was a thud, the driver’s side window and half of the windshield vanished under black goop, and then there was a slorping sound of something falling and the goop began to recede. Papyrus and Sans could just see the Crawler sliding over the edge of the abyss.
“IT… WORKED. YEAH!”
“Yeaaaah! Oh—“
There was another screech of rust, and The Car tilted sideways. Sans noticed several tendrils wrapped around the car.
“Uh.”
Papyrus made a jerking motion. The seatbelt was locked up. He fumbled for the buckle. There was a faint click. Still holding Sans, he flung himself across the seat, grabbed the door handle and headbutted it open. Below them was a writhing black puddle.
“Don’t touch it!”
“I KNOW!” Papyrus kicked the door wide and leapt, holding Sans high in the air. They landed in mud and rolled away from the abyss. They came to rest just in time to see their Car and the last of the Crawler’s mass disappearing over the edge of the abyss.
“….Huh.”

Sans, in a moment of clarity, realized two things. That he was now completely sober, and that he certainly hadn’t been a moment before.

“SANS, THAT WAS STUPID! IF I HADN’T BEEN HOLDING YOU YOU COULD HAVE BEEN BADLY HURT!”
“Sorry about the car.”
Papyrus laughed an overexcited laugh.
“OH IT’S ALRIGHT! AT LEAST NOW WE KNOW IT GOES FAST! BUT, SANS, PROMISE YOU WON’T DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN.”
Sans laughed. He laughed because the world was ridiculously jam packed full of dangers, because he’d far rather face them than let Papyrus do so, because he couldn’t decide if he had been aware of how badly he might have injured himself. Or killed, even. Right in front of Papyrus. God, what a way to go. That had to be the worst yet. Papyrus laughed too, and then they were just sitting there in the mud, laughing frantically at the abyss.
“I dunno, bro. No physics experiments?”
“NO DRIVING CARS OFF OF CLIFFS! EVER!”
“Ah why not?”
“BECAUSE I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU AND I LOVE YOU AND I WANT YOU TO BE SAFE! STOP ACTING SO DISRESPONSIBLE! IRRESPONSIBLE. I’M UPSET! PROMISE YOU WON’T DO THAT AGAIN.”
This was it, Sans realized. He’d been given the perfect moment.
“What about you, Paps?”
“WHAT ABOUT ME?”
“I was really scared when I saw you about to fight that human. Probably more than you were just now, because I had longer to be worried about it.”
“THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME.”
“Yes it is. I’m worried about you, too, Paps. If you want me to promise to be careful, you need to promise too.”
“BUT I’M A SENTRY!”
“Junior sentry.”
“IT’S MY JOB TO PROTECT THE MONSTERS OF SNOWDIN, A JOB WHICH I, UNLIKE YOU BROTHER, DO NOT TAKE LIGHTLY!”
Sans was silent.
“THAT’S WHY WE DID THIS, ISN’T IT? TO PROTECT MONSTERS.”
Actually Sans had been acting on personal vendetta and decreased impulse control, but there was that too.
“Yeah.”
“WELL… I GUESS NEITHER OF US SHOULD PROMISE, THEN. YOU’RE RIGHT. SOMETIMES IF YOU’RE GOING TO PROTECT SOMEONE ELSE, IT MEANS PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER.”
This wasn’t what Sans had been going for at all, but he took it.
“AT LEAST PROMISE ME YOU WON’T BE RECKLESS, SANS. I CARE ABOUT YOU.”
“Yeahuh. You too.”
“OH I’M NEVER RECKLESS.”
“Papyrus?”
“I PROMISE, SANS.”
“Alright. I’ll hold you to that.”
“SO WILL I.”
“I didn’t promise yet. I don’t like promises.”
“SANS!”
“Heh, come on. What do you think I’ll be doing at the lab, test driving airplanes? We don’t have those here. I’ll be fine.”

They got home muddy but safe in the early hours of the morning. And Sans had evaded the promise.

He didn’t feel like he could handle any more responsibility at the moment.

A/N: Yeah I’m not going to make separate documents for the different arcs I don’t see a point. None of them would make sense alone. COUGH.NOT LIKE THEY MAKE A HECK OF A LOT OF SENSE AS IS, BUT ANYWAY.COUGH.

I actually made a cover/background/what even is this/picture for CORE! It’s on DA. And it’s. Um. Drawn on Paint by someone whose focus is words, not pictures. Haha. Anyway, it’s up there. Merry New Arc. *throws confetti* Obscure references include: the red leaves in Ch. 12, the whole matter of souls and EXP mentioned in Ch. 8, and Determination=red liquid=mad science, because fanon. Dangit Suger is just too smal for this design

I’ll wait a bit before inflicting another playlist upon you. *sound of distant cheering* Oh just put up with me. I’m the author, I do what I want.

The song in the chapter is Running to Stand Still by U2.

Chapter 27: Core Approach

In which "Sans rises slowly from the washing machine like the judgement of God upon Rick Astley"

Sans flopped on the couch, and Papyrus let him. Papyrus himself went to work in the kitchen, making an effort to be quiet. But his innate enthusiasm for every task complicated the task. Also, their neighbors were beginning to wake out, and every few minutes Papyrus would see someone to shout good morning to out the window or door. Perhaps the fourth time he got more than a three-syllable reply.
“.morning.you’re up early.or did you not sleep?don’t tell me.it was Sans’s idea.”
“ER, WELL, YES, IT WAS HIS IDEA, BUT I AGREED WITH HIM!”
“.you smell of alcohol.”
“YES!”
“.why are you both covered in mud?”
“OH WELL THAT’S AN EXCITING STORY! COME IN AND I’LL TELL YOU!”
“.why do I feel my sins crawling on my back?”
“HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE CAR?”
“.oh no.”
“WELL, THERE’S THIS CAR—ANYWAY, THERE WAS THIS CAR—“
“.oh no.are all skeletons like this?can none of them handle alcohol?”
Sans smiled into the couch and tuned out the rest of the conversation. He didn’t realize Grillbz had come into the living room until a wave of warmth passed over him, telling him that he must be close. A moment later a warm hand settled on the back of his head.
“.take care of him.” Said Grillbz quietly, then removed his hand. A moment later Sans heard the front door open and close.
Sans wondered who exactly he’d been talking to.

Time blurred past all too quickly. A charred breakfast and a hurried shower later, Sans was on the ferry, watching Papyrus recede into the dark snowy distance.

Sans felt sickeningly aware of his isolation. He shook it off as best he could and focused on the present.

New Home, or Ew Home as he called it in his head, was as it always was, grey and smoky. He knew his way to the train station and walked there quickly, then realized that he had more than an hour to kill. He found a hot dog stand, bought one dog, covered it in the non-premium, free toppings and ate slowly. He felt like he was travelling back in time. He reminded himself that he was traveling forwards.

He thought he saw a hooded figure watching him through the crowd, but when he turned there was nothing there. He didn’t think much of it. Ew Home was teeming with different varieties of monster, some quite strange. As if to drive the point home, a purple tentacle slime monster of some sort shuffled past on the opposite side of the street, monsters hurrying out of its way. It left a shiny trail behind it which the other pedestrians tried not to step in.

The train ride was a dark one, and he let himself fall asleep for part of it. When he woke, red cracks snaked through the darkness in the distance. He stood up to see better. It was magma, glowing through the exposed rock floor.
“It is gOing To bE veRry hott,” chirped a voice from the bench below him, and he jumped. It was a temmie, and now he remembered seeing her pelt across the station just before the doors began to close. He hadn’t realized that she’d made it into the train, or that she’d ended up in his carriage. He’d picked it intentionally to avoid the noisy crowd in the carriage in front.
“Ah! Oh hello, I remember you. You’re coming to the Core too, right?”
“YEs!1!! My name… is JaNEtTeM!1” The temmie vibrated with happiness at being remembered. Sans grinned.
“Heya. I’m Sans.”
“yoUR a sKEleTon!??”
“Yeah.”
“OOoooH! I Did not Kno tHere wERe aNy more! YoUr faMiLy must be veRy speCiaL1!!!1”
“There’s just the two of us, me and my bro. And Dr. Gaster, I guess, but he’s not related to us.”
JanetTem’s vibrating intensified momentarily in horror.
“YOU Hav no FaMiLY?//”
“I’ve got my bro.”
“BuT you cAem from someWheR.”
“Yeah, you know, some monsters just tend to be shorter-lived than others.”
“I am SoRry. Tem NeVr has loSt a FaMiLly! Tem Vilage is verY saef! And evVeryone iS FaMily!1!”
Sans thought of an insensitive joke about inbreeding. Sans did not say the joke. Sans mentally slapped himself. Where had that come from? He’d just heard it somewhere. He’d never passed it on. Right? Ugh. Who even came up with these? They were picking up bad habits from the humans.  He looked up at a burst of excited sound from the carriage ahead.
“C’mon, wanna join them?”
The temmmie vibrated.
“oH. Ah yes1 Sure!” Sans crossed into the next carriage, the Tem vibrating close behind him. He thought she seemed a bit shy and let her keep close.
“Heya,” said Sans. A few monsters looked up, a few were staring ahead at a red haze. A palomino rabbit with especially wide bucked teeth and a soft, rounded shape held his gaze.
“Hey. I forgot your name?”
“Sans, Sans the skelepunster. This is JanetTem. I just fell asleep for probably half a year. Are we still going to the Core?”
The rabbit humored him with a giggle, which honestly insulted him a little. That wasn’t his best. But JanetTem seemed happy, and vibrated her way up onto a seatback and clung there.
“I’m Asphodel. You can call me Delly.”
“Charmed.” Sans leaned towards the window. The fiery cracks in the floor were growing wider.
“Excuse me, are you a tem?” said a voice from just above and behind him, and he jumped, turning. It was the fluffy dragon, who’d tucked herself through the luggage racks, her soft folds making a circuit of the car just under the ceiling. JanetTem launched herself backwards in her excitement, rebounded from the opposite window, and landed with a yelp on the floor.
“yAya1”
“Oh my goodness! Are you OK, dear?” There was a slithering sound as the dragon unwound herself from the luggage racks. The rest of the monsters shuffled out of the way. She dropped to the floor and brought her head towards JanetTem, the folds of her body meanwhile searching for somewhere they wouldn’t be in the way.
“Yea! Temmies are bOuncy!1”
“Oh, good. Look at you! You’re so small and adorable! Oh I’m sorry…”
JanetTem vibrated with pleasure.
“THanK YoU!!1!1!”
“Oh good you’re not mad at me. Haha! I’m Seon.”
“hEy Seon! I am gLad to Meet yUou!”

Gaster was tired in the casual sort of way that could be shrugged off with a few cups of strong tea. Night had passed, day had come, both equally bright. The lava glowed a constant deep red, and they had had no reason to turn the lights off in the new lab.

The lab.

Gaster wasn’t sure if he liked it or hated it. He hadn’t been given a lot of options, so he’d focused on getting the basic specs the way he wanted them. It was smallish, with a hideous clunker of a generator attached and a second in reserve for when the first inevitably blew out. He’d have to do something about that in his free time. Meanwhile, he was trying to personally manhandle the place into some sort of working order before the rest of his team showed up. They were down to twenty-two, for various reasons, some of which were legitimate and some of which boiled down to ‘I don’t want to deal with the Royal Scientist or deal with you dealing with the Royal Scientist.’ Strangely enough, he’d managed to keep the ones he was most interested in. Also the Kodama, who had such a socially pained attitude that he practically disappeared from view by the power of sheer discomfort and whom, consequently, Gaster had a hard time remembering. He’d forgotten at first that he’d even hired them, but then it came back. Of course, the Kodama. He knew them. He was just… always a little surprised to find them standing in a room—probably because of how surprised and dismayed they always acted at being found there. They seemed surprised and dismayed at everything. Alright. They were also a mechanical genius, so he didn’t care. They’d probably start to feel more comfortable after a while.
At the moment he was painfully aware of the fact that he was completely losing his shit, over rivets. Or to be more precise, the utter lack of rivets.
“I ordered them twice and I know he got it the second time because I put the order into his fucking paws! What did he do with it? Eat it?”
Yoro, who’d been helping him organize supplies, shrugged. Gaster kept going.
“It’s not the kind of thing you can just lose track of, it’s documented, not to mention I mentioned it at least four times to his face, and what other excuse is there? Rivets are easy to get! They’re all over the lab back at New Home, if you go down into the Engineering Lair you’re liable to break your neck stepping on them!” He took a deep breath. “Seriously, it’s weird down there, never go unless you have a native engineer to protect you. Fucking rivets!” he flung his clipboard down, then laughed bitterly at himself and picked it up again. “Well this is a good start, isn’t it?”
Yoro shrugged. “I was expecting things to go worse actually. Still could.” He leaned back against a crate and lit a cigarette.

Undyne was leaning against the wall at her station outside the castle, absently holding a steaming cup of tea between her blue fingers. Small scales glinted here and there across her skin as the light caught them. She looked up at a sound of motion. Husk joined her, waving off her attempt a salute. He leaned his forearm against the wall and rummaged under his armor for something in a pocket.
“How’s it going?”
Undyne nodded and sipped her tea.
“A bit dull, but I won’t say that’s a bad thing.”
“Yeah, better not jinx it. Can you help me out?”
“Sure,” said Undyne, seeing him pull his cellphone out and correctly guessing that it wasn’t something that would require her leaving her station. Husk brought up a recent message with a few taps of his paw pads and turned the screen towards her.
“This is from Suger. What am I supposed to make of it?”

Come over

Hey

I am watching human television shows and THEY ARE MAKING ME VERY ANGRY

CPR IS NOT FOR WHEN SOMEONE JUST STOPS BREATHING STOP MISUSING YOUR TERMS YOU UNEDUCATED FUCKS

Oh look I’m turning into Gaster. The horror.

“Uhm.” Undyne shrugged. “I dunno mon, are you guys friends?”
“Well that’s just it. I can’t tell. We have a professional understanding.”
“That’s good. Do you like him?”
Husk gave the kind of laugh that manifests only as a smile and a faint sound.
“Do you?”
“Nah.” She sipped her tea. “I mean, I don’t know him that well yet, but he seems too… I dunno, he seems like he’s always got an agenda? I don’t feel like I should trust anything he says, even it’s about what he ate for lunch. I don’t like feeling like people are trying to manipulate me.”
Husk made a note of it.
“Yeah.”
“Well, what is it? Has he got you freaked too?”
“Not yet. I’m just a little confused. I dunno, I might go over, I don’t have anything else to do. I guess we’re friends now? See that’s the thing, I didn’t think we were exactly friends.” He leaned his back against the wall, looking out over the lights of New Home, shimmering in the darkness. He sniffed and frowned.
“Someone’s got a fire burning again.”
“Meh,” said Undyne.
“You’re a lot like Asgore.”
“If he doesn’t see a point in fighting this neither do I. Have you seen him, by the way?”
“Not since this morning, no.”
Undyne sighed.
“He better not be with the souls already.”
Husk made an inquisitive noise.
“He sulks down there. I think he talks to them… I mean, whatever he wants to do, but I think he spends too much time down there—“ she considered. “Would you mind staying out here for a sec while I check on him?”
“No problem. Tell me how he’s doing.”
“Thanks Captain.” She threw a jaunty salute and hurried back into the castle. Husk stretched, looking down into the city.

His cellphone buzzed in his paw. He answered it.
“It’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening.”
“It’s rude to listen in on conversations,” said Husk, frowning. “How do you do that?”
“Where’s the fun in telling all my secrets? Anyway, are you coming over?”
“She knows where the souls are, presumably. Though she could just be going to check elsewhere.”
“Yes, I believe she does know, but she isn’t going to help us. Consciously, at least. And it sounds like she’s rather suspicious.”
“Not of me.”
“Don’t push your luck, fluffboy.”
“She’s coming back.”
“Chill. Listen, I want to talk with you.”
“Alright.”

Undyne rejoined him with a strange expression.
“He was with the souls. He was… telling them about his children.”

 

A/N: Guess who’s back, finally. Whew, sorry about that.

I pulled myself out of Writer’s Block Hell by my fingernails to bring you most of this chapter. But I seem to be better now because I wrote the last section all in one spurt. What was I doing that whole time? Well I wrote something about washing machines when I felt the block approaching to try and stave it off, and it kinda failed, and then I was super busy for a while so writing ability was a moot point.

That washing machine fic is my first five-plus-one fic and it’s basically Sans pranking people and then suffering prank backfire. Here’s a link, in case you’re too lazy to go to my profile and actually click on it.

Washing Machines

….I had to.

Actually, here’s the link:

Saga of the Undertale Washing Machine, Take 2

*giggles repentantly in a washing machine* I am so sorry

IT WILL ALL MAKE SENSE IF YOU READ THE FIVE PLUS ONE FIC I SWEAR

Oh Toaster is a ship name by the way. Sorry, some of you seemed genuinely confused by this (about ten chapters ago) and I was going to explain, but I was too busy being amused at your confusion at first and then forgot.

“Yeah some monsters are just shorter lived” ESPECIALLY IF YOU KILL THEM

“FUCKING RIVETS SIR” -Marlow, Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (paraphrased)

I have a serious problem with Heart of Darkness like I just finished a short paper comparing themes in it to themes in To the Lighthouse and it’s kind of random and I might be obsessed and it’s kind of funny cuz no one else in the class liked Heart of Darkness and I’m just like TOO BAD I WILL TALK ABOUT THIS FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR MUAHAHAHA and I come here and remember that I put a random Heart of Darkness reference here too and what is wrong with me, I cannot escape

…well of course one cannot escape the darkness in one’s own soul

NO STOP

I may have a problem.

Yeah I have complicated feelings about this book which I may need to work through later in something that’s not an author note

Chapter 28: hshshfhsdfhhjsdfhshhshsdjfhshdfjsdf!!!

In which avocado. 

“Fortunately we won’t need rivets for a while yet… we can hope,” said Gaster, checking multiple pockets for his phone. Yoro silently slid it towards him across a crate, where he’d tossed it earlier. Gaster absent-mindedly thanked him and checked the time. “Train’s coming in soon, so it won’t be so lonely around here. Is that it?”
“Yeah, I did the outside inventory, and got my feet scorched as well. I need thicker-soled shoes—“ 
“Do you have some?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, just wasn’t counting on using them this much. Anyway, almost everything’s accounted for. I couldn’t find a couple small objects, but probably because I was still losing my shit about the heat. I was not expecting this. Don’t know what I did expect, I mean, I knew there was going to be lava all over the place.”
“Magma, technically, the Underground does not contain lava,” murmured Gaster automatically, kicking the sides of the spare generator and making faces.
“Yeah sure. Anyway, here’s the list 1.0, I’ll cool off a bit and then go see what else I can find, sound good?”
“Yes.” Yoro held the list in front of Gaster until he noticed and took it.
“Oh, one thing that did concern me.” Gaster looked up from the inadequate generator. “That pile of girders behind the lab? You’d think they’d be easy to count but no matter which side I started from I always ended up one short. And they’re sort of tumbled around.”
“Huh. There haven’t been any recorded tremors lately, but we could have missed something localized. There’s no way the missing girder could have rolled into the lava, right? Magma. Magma.”
“Nah, it’s not a rolly shape, and also they’re stacked between the lab and the cave wall. It would’ve had to flip sideways and those things are big.”
“That’s what I thought. Odd. Maybe the numbers are wrong, or one got dropped en route, though I should have heard about that. We’ll worry about that later.”
“Does this mean we’re returning to air conditioning?”
“Yes,” said Gaster, noticing that Yoro was panting lightly.

They rode the elevator up to the residential block, Gaster grimacing at the sounds the engine made when it started. Another thing he needed to work on. Forget the Core, he needed to teach the Underground how to make basic machinery that wasn’t crap.

The lab proper was on the ground floor, though a lot of the practical work past the first stages would be done outside in the burning heat. The residential block was one level beneath it. The air conditioning focused on the two upper floors, though there was just enough in the lower level to keep the heat level bearable, though not pleasant for furry monsters. Gaster wasn’t much bothered by it, but the cool air in the next level was a pleasant change all the same. The laundry room was tucked into the wall by the elevator shaft, and the living apartments were grouped in a block in the center of the floor. The outer walls, though well insulated, were still warm to the touch.

Yoro disappeared into his room, unbuttoning his shirt to the cool air with a grateful sigh.

There were more rooms than his shrunken crew would need, meaning that all of them were more cramped for space than they needed to be. This annoyed Gaster, but they had some spare now, anyway. Maybe he’d get more help later. And he did like the fact that everyone roomed in the same block, regardless of their function in the lab proper. It gave a sense of community that he appreciated—though he’d probably spend most of his time in his room zoned out, with his door locked. Where was his own room, anyway? He had the lab blueprints memorized—they were quite simple anyway—but he hadn’t explored the reality well yet and realized that he was entirely capable of getting lost in it, despite its less than imposing size.  He’d have to fix that. He’d start with figuring out which was his room. While walking around the block, he almost crashed into Alphys as she popped out of one of the doors. “Hello!”
“Ah! G-Gaster, I was just putting your bags in your room—I c-couldn’t find you and you’re not answering your phone—“
That’s right, he’d had some messages, hadn’t he? He hadn’t really been paying attention, and he hadn’t even checked on Alphys, either during the train ride or after arriving. He ought to have. He’d been distracted, and confused, but had no real excuse, and he was annoyed at himself.
“When do I answer my phone? I’m sorry I missed you—what did you say about my bags?”
“Oh! You left them at the station, I took care of them for you.”
“Oh.” He laughed. “Thank you! I’d forgotten about them.”
“I thought you had.”
“You know me.” He paused. He ought to just address this now. It was still bothering him. “Have you spoken to Dr. Suger about Sans?”
“Uh whaat?”
“See, that’s what I thought. You two don’t talk much, do you?”
“No! He doesn’t like me!”
“He seems…. Almost neutral towards you, on good days.”
“Well I don’t like him.”
“That’s healthy. See, that’s what I thought, but he implied that you had discussed Sans.” Alphys shook her head.
“N-no. I mean I still think it’s weird that you hired him but I haven’t seen him do anything yet, he’ll probably be fine. If I was going to gossip about him to someone I wouldn’t pick Dr. Suger.”
“Right. Well, that’s strange.”
“He has a tendency to just… know things, you know? Pop up in conversations without being invited.”
“How irritating. Well, we’re away from him here.”
“Y-yeah!” Alphys giggled nervously. “Cat’s away huh?”
“One can hope. How are you? Are you all settled in?”
“Y-yeah, mostly. I mean, I’ve got my stuff in and my lock calibrated. I haven’t done yours yet because I couldn’t find you.”
Gaster poked his head into his room and frowned.
“Alphys, some of my bags are larger than you are.”
“O-oh it’s OK.”
“No, it’s not. I scurried off like a brainless lunatic without even saying hello and you got stuck with my bags…” He walked in and poked the side of his bed with a foot. “Well that’s overkill.”
Alphys snorted. “Yeah, I know. At least it’s long enough, huh?”
Due to the great variation in monster body types, beds came in a variety of shapes but in general tended to increase in size sideways as well as lengthwise. Gaster’s took up a considerable portion of the room. It looked just about his length when stretched out, but a majority of it was unnecessary area. He would probably do better with an eight-foot-long bolster pillow and some blankets, he thought sarcastically.
“It is that. How’s your room? You decided to stick with the heat rock, right?”
“Yeah but someone ignored that bit and shoved a random bed in there anyway. It’s so in the way, I need that space to store my a-anime crap. And snacks.”
“Ooh, snacks. Shove it out in the hall so—no don’t yet, the others will be showing up soon. Remind me to move it down to storage later when the crazy has worn off a little.”
“I c-can probably find—“
“Alphys no. You’re always taking care of me. Remind me. You shouldn’t be spending the whole day manhandling objects larger than you are.”
“W-well neither should you. I mean. It’s not larger than you are but you know.”
“It will be less stressful than screaming at paperwork, which is what I’ve been doing.”
“L-leave that to me. Or the temmie.”
“You’re right, I have an actual bookkeeper now. How lovely. One less thing to worry about. Don’t let it bother you, either, you’ll have more interesting things to do now. You’re supposed to be furthering your education, remember?”
“OK. Hey, this’ll be fun, huh? Actually getting to do science things instead of arguing with people about the hypothetical likelihood of doing science things.” Alphys grinned up at him, and Gaster paused, then grinned back.
“You’re right. This is going to be amazing.”
He'd been wasting too much thought on the pressure from the capitol and the likelihood of getting shut down before they could accomplish anything really interesting. Sufficient for a day is its own evil, he reminded himself. Alphys was right: this was going to be a fun experience.
There was a faint cough from the hallway, and they turned to find the Kodama looking at them slightly bug-eyed.
“Um,” he said, in an urgent mumble, shuffling his feet.
“Yes?” said Gaster. The Kodama stared at him with its large eyes for several seconds.
“I…. You. Need to see something. Outside.”
“What?”
“I…don’t…. know…. But it’s bad.” He looked even more uncomfortable than usual.
“Alright.”

“Outside” was mostly lava. The lab stood with its back to a cave wall, on a flat shelf of rock that extended into the lava straight ahead, but gradually fell away into the cave wall on either side from the lab. Ahead, a rocky path meandered through the lava to the train station; on either side, exposed shimmering magma stretched into the distance. The cave roof was low, dry and starless.

Bridges had been built to several islands in the magma: these would let them get close to the magma, almost down in it. This is where they would be setting up prototypes to test, once they reached that point. The bridges were as solidly made as was possible, infused with heat-resisting magic. Everything else in the lab might break but Gaster had faith that the bridges at least would hold up, which was a comfort. Well. It had been. One of them was missing most of the middle part.

“Ww-what?” croaked Alphys, voicing the shock he felt. “What—what did this?”
“Wait,” said the Kodama, peering expressionlessly around the folds of Gaster’s coat. They waited, Gaster’s eyes scanning the damage. Overall the bridge was holding up well for what it had been through, whatever that was. Some bending, he wanted to say melting force had thrown itself against it in several places, taking out chunks. One corner of a girder glowed with faint heat, despite the magic. It had to have been pretty intense to overcome the infused magic—
a shimmering form leapt out of the magma below and clung to the side of the bridge, batting at the loose railing. Then it stretched up, took the metal in its mouth, wrenched the whole piece loose and tumbled backwards, disappearing into the magma.

“Yup,” said the Kodama faintly, edging closer behind Gaster. Alphys took up the same position on the other side.
“So that’s what…”
“Yep.” Repeated the Kodama, head down.
“Wow.”
“An elemental?” asked Alphys, looking up at Gaster.
“No, no. Just a magma spirit. Fascinating—I’ve never seen one before. Look, he’s back!” the magma spirit had resurfaced with part of the heat-warped railing and was examining it, biting at it and rubbing his face against it. “The anti-heat magic probably feels really weird to him. Huh… According to what I’ve heard they’re territorial, he may not be entirely pleased that he’s gained new neighbors.”
“L-let’s go back inside,” said Alphys, tugging on his coat.
“Without talking to him? You can. Maybe it’s best if there’s someone inside to call for help if he accidentally sets me on fire.”
“A-accidentally. Gaster we don’t know anything about him—oh no.” The spirit had gone very still and was looking at them.
“Hey there!” said Gaster, waving. The spirit dropped the railing and dove out of sight, his body showing briefly as a brighter glow under the magma. “Aw…”
The ground a few yards in front of them split open and a stream of magma burst out, the fiery creature in the center. Gaster screamed and flung up his shield, Alphys screamed and grabbed his coat, and the Kodama’s eyes bulged dangerously wide as he made a faint sound of terror and clutched at the other side of Gaster’s coat. Gaster lost his balance and they all fell over backwards. Then there was a moment of silence. Gaster lay on his back and looked up through his shield. The spirit was poised motionless in a column of slowly rippling magma, looking down at them. He blazed brightly in the magma, but his head and shoulders were cooling to duller orange where they rose above it. Gaster dropped the shield, stood and reformed it behind him around Alphys and the Kodama.
“Hey. That’s a neat trick. Didn’t even realize there was a magma pocket there.” The spirit cocked his head at Gaster’s voice, and when he was finished speaking, answered in a piercing musical piping which rang back from the cave wall. “Oh, you speak—the thing—dangit I’m blanking on what it’s called—do you not speak anything else?” the spirit piped back at him. “Well—can you understand me?” Gaster made attempts at conversation in a few different languages, which the spirit ignored, and pointed at the bridges, then the lab, then Gaster. “What? Oh yeah, I’m responsible for this—yeah.” He nodded, pointing at himself. The spirit piped something else. “I can’t understand you. I’m sorry if we’re invading your space, but we didn’t realize you were here. What’s that?” he was attempting to ask something, spreading his arms with a fluid motion and wiggling his fingers. “Uh?... no idea. My name’s Gaster.” Gaster pointed at himself. “Gaster.” The spirit looked curiously at him. “Gaster.” The spirit made a quiet whistling sound, mimicking his enunciation. “Come on, you can do it.”
“///syyya//s///ss/.” he paused, tested a few sounds, and then in a much fainter, less piercing and musical voice, whispered “G…sssssrrr.” Gaster beamed.
“Yeah, that’s it! Good job!” they gave him what he interpreted to be an unimpressed look, then pointed at him and whistled a sharp note that swung down at the end. G-as-!-ter. “That’s me? OK, that works. What’s your name?” Gaster pointed at the spirit, who chirped out something he couldn’t hope to remember, then paused, apparently thinking.
“//saaa//as;///h/.hhs.” He paused to collect himself, then switching back to his quieter voice, ran through a string of hissing sounds. Gaster squinted.
“Hass…?”
The spirit gave him what he was now quite sure was an unimpressed look, and after a moment said
“Hhassssenn.”
“Hassen,” said Gaster, pointing to him. “Alright, I can handle that.” He let the shield fade away. “And these are my assistants.” Hassen glanced at Alphys and the Kodama, then back at Gaster, and scrunched his hands together, piping something. “Yes, they are rather small.”
“Well excuse you,” said the Kodama faintly, in a polite tone. Alphys stood close to Gaster.
“H-hi I’m Alphys, and I’m glad you seem to be friendly—sorry, you can’t understand me—Alphys. That’s me. Alphys. Hi.” She ducked under the edge of Gaster’s coat. Hassen smiled, and Gaster relaxed a little more.

 

A/N:
Hass is a type of avocado. Welcome our new friend, the spicy avocado roll. Also apparently Hassen is a real word, it’s a German word for hatred, so our new friend here basically just accidentally named himself a really metal name and I find that rather hilarious and ironic (for now at least eheheheh)

Oh yeah, again, gender-neutral use of ‘he’ for avocado friend here. Headcanon that he’s genderless. So is Grillbz by the way, elementals don’t have much use for human genders. (This actually kind of amuses me because he acts stereotypically masculine and literally has no excuse)

Aaanyway I have gotten through midterms and now have break and am still gradually recovering from writer’s block and general inability to write for various reasons so hopefully there will be more chapter/s this week, but I’d like input. The more I look at the summaries for this fic the less I like what I came up with when I was only just getting started. How is this, and/or do you have any better ideas? Or any ideas at all? Things I should put in, not put in, say differently?

The Royal Scientist has to be ruthless. This is why Gaster is not the Royal Scientist, and why his CORE project is an underfunded mess staffed by sciency misfits. Depressed!Sans, Alphys and lasers, Grillby, Riverperson, menacingly squishy eldritch abominations, spaghetti. May contain swearing and/or spiders.

Also, thanks to Itinerant Reader to helping me get this far with it.

-------

Another thing, but much less important, just kind of a personal conundrum. I am barely on Tumblr but occasionally I do post something relating to this fic and/or the connected AU and I want some sort of AU tag that I can use to link all of the related posts but guess what? There are A LOT OF UNDERTALE AUS ON THIS SITE and I did not comprehend at first HOW MANY ‘CoreTale’ AUs there were and I need something different. So I wracked my brains for something that’s specific to my fic that I can use as a tag that will make some marginal amount of sense and came up with the orange leaf motif (leaf motif leaf motif!! Fun to say even if it’s not really a motif yet it’s only been mentioned once) that was mentioned in Ch. 12. And yes, I first checked the “LeafTale” tag, and yes, that’s being used kinda sorta ish already and the whole point of doing this anyway is to get some tag specific to this fic that I can use on all my posts and aaaagh
Why am I bothering I barely Tumbler at all I just want a tag to make it slightly organized ish because knowing me otherwise it’s not going to be organized at all

So here are some ideas I have, please vote on what you think is good/not good, also please do tell me if you have a better idea thank you

OK off to try to write this next chapter before the muse leaves again

UnderMaple
(Because the orange-leaved trees were probably maple trees and why not, Canada’s chill… hahahHAHA)

UnderLeaf
(this could work? Kinda neat sounding, and I like leaves… you’ve probably noticed. It’s a thing.)

AmberTale
(I like how this sounds and the only Tumblr result is one person’s blog name and they’ve never posted so hopefully that won’t be a problem)

PacifistCORE
(this one’s not 100% canon accurate but it makes sense as a tag)

CORE (the long one)
(lol. But still, this is probably true of several CORE AUs at least.)

Toaster Master Pacifaster (PacifistGaster) -Tale
(just for lols please don’t actually vote on this)

Chapter 29: ~Darkness and Flame~

Summary:

Tolkien reference ^^^^^ appreciate ^^^^ APPRECIATE ^^^^^

In which cat?

“Hey, there’s Gaster! Oh God is that a volcano!”
At that, Sans turned his attention from the lab to the figures standing a short distance away from it. Gaster was talking to a… sustained magma spout. With a head and arms.
“What is that?” he said, voicing the thoughts of everyone else. There was a scramble for window space and someone’s elbow landed on his head. His chin slid down onto the back of the seat. “Ow.” Behind him he could hear JanetTem bouncing around in search of a good vantage point, then Seon said “climb on my neck” and lifted her head and the clinging Temmie above everyone else.
“I think it’s a magma spirit,” said a large lizardy monster with a domed skull, “But I didn’t know there were any here…”
Sans, smushed into the seatback, couldn’t see the figures, so he looked ahead towards the station. Oddly enough, he couldn’t see the station anymore. A kind of shadow seemed to have come between them and it….
Oh no.
They plowed into it a moment later with a squishing noise, and everyone was flung sideways. There was a moment of tumbling confusion, the brakes came on, and the train slid to a stop, piling them all at the front of the car. There was a loud shriek from somewhere close by. Sans opened his eyes and found himself wrapped around Delly with his face planted in Seon’s soft flank. Seon’s coils had greatly softened the fall for almost everyone, excluding Seon herself, who was rather squished. Sans struggled up, apologizing hastily to the bodies he stepped on, stumbled to the window and pulled himself up. A massive Crawler was boiling across the magma towards Dr. Gaster and the others, steaming and shrieking and burning.
“We hit a Crawler,” he said in response to someone’s question, then, stepping back, wrenched the doors open without touching them.

Gaster was abstractedly aware of the approaching train, but he looked up at the screech of brakes just in time to see it skid to a stop on slippery rails, a large slimy darkness clinging to the front. As the train stopped, most of the mass peeled off and flopped into the magma beside the track. Immediately it boiled up with a shriek and hurried towards the nearest land, which was the shelf where the lab was. It was coming right towards him.
“What?” said the Kodama, pleasantly blank, perhaps unable to process the sight.
“Oh no…” whispered Alphys. Gaster took a deep breath, turned to face them, pulled up his shirt and fished a sleeping cat out of his pelvic cavity.
“Hold my cat,” he said, holding him out to the kodama, who blinked, in shock.
“What.”
“Take him! Then go back to the lab and keep it open for the others—Alphys, go with him!” Gaster piled the limp bundle of cat into the kodama’s arms and turned. The magma spirit sank out of view, leaving a glowing pit in the rock, and reappeared in the magma lake, where he settled down to his shoulders and—purred. He looked from Gaster to the Crawler,as if saying  ‘this is gonna be good.’ Gaster swore, adjusted his stance, and began to hum.

The Crawler was halfway across the magma, leaving a dark trail across the surface and losing mass steadily as it came, though not quickly enough to kill it before it reached them.

Gaster hummed through a phrase of song, eye unfocusing into a galaxy of disconnected, dancing lights. A framework of purple arcs traced through the air in front of him. Beside him there was a thud and a clatter, then the thin whine of a charging light cannon and he knew that Alphys was with him. I told you to go he snapped tersely, still humming.
“I’m not leaving you!”

Meanwhile, the Kodama was standing with his foot in the door and cool air pouring out from behind him, cradling the cat, which had woken up enough to twitch its tail angrily at the change of position. The Kodama looked at Alphys, with her small body wrapped around a giant gun which had somehow appeared out of nowhere, at Gaster humming casually as he made some sort of weapon construct, and then down at the peeved cat, which had also somehow appeared out of nowhere. Then at the stalled train. Then at the mysterious cat. He gave a faint whimper of confusion.
“Hey!” shouted someone from inside the lab, “close the door! You’re letting all the cool air out!” Yoro appeared, stripped down to his shorts. There was a distant, tinny sound of canned fiddle music playing. The Kodama silently pointed outside and Yoro followed the motion with a glazed look.
“Help them,” said the Kodama weakly. Yoro stared for a full second, then shook himself, gave a measured
“Ah HEEELLLlllll no.”
and walked away. The Kodama heard one of the showers in the washroom, which was in the residential block, turn on.
“That’s not helping.”

“I-I’ll f-fire f-first,” said Alphys, “And if—y-you can—w-we’ll take turns, O-OK?” she’d been gradually depressing the trigger as she spoke, and as she finished the cannon blazed, and burned a trail across the top end of the Crawler, which lurched but kept coming.
“Oh no…” the whine started again as she recharged.
Gaster finished the phrase and looked intently at the shape in the air in front of him, which gradually resolved itself into a large purple bow and arrow, flickering in the air. He took them in his hands and they solidified. He pulled the arrow back, indigo cutting magic sparking at its tip, held it for a moment and then released. The arrow plunged into the Crawler with a flash of purple, slowing it for a moment. It was bleeding a new trail of inky slime as it continued forward. Slowly another arrow formed. Gaster hummed.
“Good shot,” whispered Alphys, steadying the light cannon. “Come on come on you can do this…” The cannon blazed again, and this time the beam caught the Crawler in the thick part. It screeched angrily, slowing almost to a stop. Another arrow was forming on the string of Gaster’s bow, which suddenly flickered, almost disappearing. Gaster hummed. Then, as the Crawler was stretching out desperate tendrils to the land and Gaster was pulling back his second arrow, the magma flung itself up in a wave, curled over the Crawler and pushed it backwards. The shrieking and boiling continued out in the magma as the Crawler fought its way up out of the molten rock. Gaster fired into the mass, which fizzled out with a final gurgle, and the bow flickered out of existence. He sighed, then looked down at Hassen, who hopped up to lean his chin on the edge of the rock, grinning devilishly. Gaster nodded at the burning mess and smiled.
“Nice work, friend.”
Hassen warbled proudly and slid backwards into the magma, from whence the sound continued, muffled. Gaster straightened his back, loosened his bones, and looked down at Alphys.
“I’m alright,” she said. He nodded with a faint smile and looked towards the train, just as there was a sharp cracking sound. He narrowed his eyes. Sans was standing a short distance from the train with his back to them—it had stopped not quite even with the station, but at a place where it was safe to jump out. Sans ran back to the door and shouted something into the interior of the car. There was another sharp crack, a tinkle of glass, and black tendrils whipped out of the front end of the locomotive car. Sans waved his arms, still shouting. Then in a flash of white the dragon shot out through the door with the Temmie and several other of the smaller monsters clinging to her back. She was carrying a rabbit by the nape of the neck. She flew rapidly up the path with a lashing motion like an eel, passed them with a gush of wind and disappeared into the lab. There were several thudding sounds and a doggish yelp. Sans had been bowled over onto his back and lay on the ground watching the rest of the monsters jump out of the car and run. A black mass was oozing its way out of the locomotive, and Gaster could see a faint halo of magic around it.
“Oh look, part of it got the conductor.” Yoro panted up, dripping.
“What? Huh, oh great. That’s just perfect. What are Crawlers doing here? You need my help?”
“It would be greatly appreciated.”
“I just left to take a cold shower, I’m ready now.” Yoro raced ahead down the path, passing several monsters running towards the lab. Gaster looked down to find Alphys struggling to move the cannon.
“Stay here and guard the door,” he said. “We may need it, though hopefully not.”

He started towards the train at a rapid walk. Yoro was half way there. Sans was blocking the Crawler inside the cab with bone bullets that crisscrossed the broken windows, but that wouldn’t keep it for long. Crawlers had an annoying tendency to walk through bullets.

He hummed a different note, feeling it vibrate through his bones and resonate in his soul, searching through the threads of his mind for the one that rang in tune. Lines. Straight lines, solid, a single shape. He knew this better than the bow.

He ended on an E, and the sword in his hand hummed the note back. He smiled and gripped the hilt tightly.

There was a shattering sound, and, refocusing his eye, he saw Yoro pulling Sans away from the train and the Crawler pouring out and over onto the roof of the first passenger car.
“Sans!” Gaster shouted. “Get behind me.” He stopped where he was, and Sans and Yoro ran back to join him.
“Well that’s a thing,” said Yoro, giving the sword an appreciative look. It was large for Gaster, which meant that it was about equal to the lengths of Sans and Yoro combined. It glowed the deep purple of Gaster’s shield with indigo flickering around the edges like flame.
“I’m going to try to pull him out,” said Gaster, looking up at the swaying mass collecting itself on the roof of the car.
“What?” said Yoro.
“The conductor.”
“Well—Alright, I guess it’s been done before, but be careful.”
“That’s where you come in. Try to keep the rest of it from following when I pull him free. Sans, can you use your blasters to sever the tendrils?”
“Yeah sure.”
“Alright, here we go.”
Gaster raised his left hand, searched for a moment, and then pulled. Sans recognized the blue attack that he’d used to walk up a wall. The blackness on the roof boiled and a slimy body burst out and shot towards them, tethered to the blackness with long ropy tendrils. Sans burned through them with a few shots from his blasters and the Crawler shrieked and poured down the side of the car onto the pathway.
The limp body hit Gaster in the chest and he stumbled backwards and dumped it into Yoro’s arms. Yoro, who’d been in the middle of blocking the Crawler’s path with a forest of branching antler-like bullets, grunted.
“Leave it, run! You too!” he pushed Sans after Yoro, forming his shield. A tendril slapped into it a moment later. Gaster walked backwards, watching the small Crawler—now more like an angry puddle—jiggle itself after them over the hot ground. It wouldn’t get far. Checking that Sans and Yoro had a good start, he dropped his shield and broke into a slow jog after them.
He’d thought he was out of range, but the angry puddle was determined. A thin tendril whipped around his left wrist and he stopped.

Gone.

There was a sudden fuzzy silence in his mind, and a chill, creeping sensation up his arm towards his soul. Some part of him was aware that his sword flickered out of existence in his hand and Alphys jumped up far ahead.

Everything that made him himself was wiped out, erased. He was gone.

He hated that feeling. Wasn’t it enough to doubt the existence of the rest of the world?

There had to be something there. Feeling down, he caught at threads, flickers of consciousness, that hadn’t been touched yet. Movement. He could still move, couldn’t he? He took several steps forwards, stretching the tendril taut, then felt compelled to stop. But that wasn’t him, he could move if he wanted to. Where was the cutting magic? Near the top, somewhere. There. Right where he’d left it. He swung his free arm around and blue magic arced from his fingertips, slashing through the tendril, leaving him free, and he walked quickly forwards.

And his mind lit up like the million facets of a broken window at sunrise.

And the lab and the monsters were clear in front of him.

Something fizzled and shrieked on the hot ground behind him, and he hummed, happily, letting the notes fall loose. He was himself. He was free.

…Alphys was losing her shit. He refocused his eye and tried to look marginally sane and alright. Did he still have both his hands? Good.

 

A/N: Well that escalated quickly.
So, uh, I was going to make this dramatic and epic, but then I thought, why not just let it be ridiculous. It’ll match the rest of the story.

:Edit: I just realized something funny about the dialogue with the train crawler... 
Gaster: I have a plan!! 
Gaster: No wait it's a shit plan, run

AmberTale won the tag election with Undermaple a runner up and UnderLeaf the second runner up. One person also make a couple original suggestions, so thanks for that. And thanks to everyone who voted! I hath made a new Tumblr banner to commemorate the occasion. It’s terrible. It could probably be slightly less terrible but I gave up.

Also! A very exciting thing has occurred!

SOMEONE ILLUSTRATED that exchange between Gaster and Carl at the end of Ch. 22!  The artist (Sirrius The Moonblade on FFN) posted the panels separately, so I made a masterpost with links to each one here.

Also a weird thing of my own hath appeared on DeviantArt. I started writing a fact sheet about Gaster but since I was on break and had lots of time it ended up taking several days of my life and turning into kind of a compressed (but not very) bio. Most of it is stuff that either was covered already or probably won’t be covered in this story (which is why I wanted to get it written down somewhere) but there’s also a section at the bottom marked ‘Spoilers??’ You can look at that or not as you choose, they’re not ‘major’ spoilers for the ‘main plot’ just lil Gastery spoilers. It’s basically there because I didn’t want to ruin a few potential surprises for anyone who really likes surprises. Actually, though, if you’ve read this far, you can go ahead and read the first one, it might actually help explain what in heck’s going on this chapter. Here 'tis.

Also I wasn’t originally planning the surprise Psammites. I was so out of it when I posted the last chapter that it never occurred to me that Gaster was still carrying a cat around and I never said he’d put it down and he never really had a chance to anyway. I panicked a little when that occurred to me but then I realized you know what that’s not even a problem. Gaster would totally do that.
Just pretend I planned this all from the beginning.
…It’s OK if you have questions. So does the Kodama.

Chapter 30: Nil Se'n La [and CONTEST: see bottom]

Summary:

Nil Se'n La, song title, translation: Not Yet Day. Ex: Nil se'n la, I can finish this chapter in honor of St. Patrick's day before revising that paper. Nil se'n la, I'll have plenty of time for sleeping. Nil se'n la, I can type fast. Nil se'n la.
Do not emulate the writer, the writer is a bad role model. NIL SE'N LA!

In which one rock two rock red rock blue… actually there aren’t any blue rocks sorry.

She left the cannon and ran towards him on all fours. He paused for her and she climbed the front of his coat and clung to his chest. He wrapped his slime-free arm around her, shaking the Crawler goop from the other one. He could hear it, still bubbling over the rock behind him, so he resumed walking.
“You’re OK,” said Alphys.
“Yes. You were very brave, Alphys.”
She looked up at him questioningly, and he realized that his voice hadn’t made any sense.
“A-are you OK?”
He nodded, silently.
There was a flash and a clang, and he jumped backwards. A red-hot object had been flung down across the path. Hassen popped up at the edge of the shore, grinning proudly, and pointed at the object and then Gaster. Gaster looked at it. It was the missing girder. He repeated the gesture.
“Yes, that is mine.”
“Gaster,” said Alphys. “Your voice.”
He nodded, then with an effort got out a comprehensible “I just need a moment.”
“O-okay.”
Gaster looked at the girder, then drew a line along it with his hand and moved the line to the side of the path, looking at Hassen. Hassen looked blank for a moment, then the lightbulb came on and he reached for it. He seemed able to understand that most monster didn’t do well in contact with red-hot materials, which was good. He wrenched the girder up, held it for a moment, looking behind Gaster, and then punched something with it, which hissed. Gaster looked over his shoulder to see Hassen beating the remaining Crawler, which was still trying to follow him, with the girder. It balled itself up on the extreme opposite side of the path and tried to grab the girder with tendrils. Hassen punched it into the lava and it fizzled out quickly. He tossed the girder to the side. It was amazing to see him manhandling so much mass. As far as Gaster could tell, he was shaped roughly like a rather spindly human, with no visible features except the eyes and, when open, mouth, like Grillbz, but from the way he moved through the magma he appeared to be much heavier than he looked.  He had more of a chin than Grillbz, and no flames flickered around his body, which shimmered with heat. Gaster didn’t think he could control his heat output very well, so it was just as well that he stayed in the magma. He had a sort of mane, a softer suggestion of matter, like very hot magma, which rippled over his neck and shoulders when he moved.
“Ah geez, you two OK? That was close,” said Sans, coming up to join them. Hassen piped at him, sinking back down into the magma up to his chin. “And who’s that? He seems friendly.”
“Hassen,” said Alphys. “Sans. Sans, Hassen. I don’t think he know English.” Hassen piped, then after thinking for a moment, said “Ssssssansss.” reflectively.
“Yeah, Sans,” said Sans. “Nice to meet’cha, Hassei.” Hassen whistled. At the lab, Yoro and Mary were hauling the still slimed, but now recognizable as a bird monster, conductor inside. Mary shouted something at Gaster, then beckoned the Kodama, who was still standing in the door, to follow her. Gaster looked down at Hassen, then, after considering for a moment, formed his shield under a small rock that had been splashed with slime from the recently deceased Crawler, pulled it over and set it down between at the edge of the path. He pointed at it, then at the streaks of black slime on the rock behind them. Hassen looked curiously at him. Gaster pulled another rock over from the opposite side, pointing from it to the mottled surface where the first Crawler had fizzled out in the magma. Hassen glanced at it and back. Gaster took a breath, then added a third rock to the two and cocked his head, looking questioningly down as Hassen. There was a moment of silence.
“Uh,” said Sans, “I’m lost?”
Hassen gave a quiet whistle, slid through the magma to where there was a loose rock on the edge of the path, and pushed it back to join the others. Gaster smiled, then pulled another rock over and dropped it near the others, looking at Hassen, who nudged it over to join the pile.
“Are you saying there are more of these?” said Alphys, clinging to the front of Gaster’s coat with her fists and whipping her head around to scan the barren ground for any lurking darkness. Sans took another look at the rocks.
“Oh. Ohhhh—“
Gaster was reaching for another rock. Hassen, appearing to lose patience with the counting game, swept the rocks to the side with his arm and ducked backwards under the magma. He resurfaced a moment later, rose out of the magma to his waist and flicked his arms up, flinging a sheet of magma globs into the air. He swept his arm around to contain them all before they fell, then pointed back along the ground where the train ran, veering off over solid ground towards Waterfall.
“Uh that’s bad,” said Sans.
Hassen looked at Gaster, who nodded that he was following, then ducked under the magma for a moment, came up brighter, and pointed back along the route he’d outlined towards the lab and along the cave wall towards where it bent out of sight far ahead.
“That’s very bad,” muttered Sans. Gaster bowed to Hassen, frowning, and Hassen bobbed up with a chirp and then sank out of sight and did not resurface.

In the moment of stillness, the Kodama padded up to them.
“Dr. Mary says to meet her in the showers immediately. Here is your cat. It does not like me,” he said.  Psammites was struggling and growling. Gaster silently pulled his shirt up and the cat leapt into his pelvis, where it crouched, glaring at them. Sans stared.
“Well that’s a neat trick. What, you got a pillow in there for it?”
“Mm!” Gaster nodded, smiling, and let his shirt fall back down, hiding the cat from view. As they walked towards the lab there was a warm sound of disembodied purring from Gaster’s lower abdomen. This appeared to make the Kodama uncomfortable. But then, the Kodama seemed to live in a permanent state of discomfort.

Seon’s body lay crisscrossed through the hallway outside the washroom, the door of which stood open, and most of the monsters were piled around it. Gaster stepped over several white loops and poked his head in time to hear Mary ask the conductor how many fingers she was holding up and get a satisfactory answer. He was a mess of slime and shampoo foam with two dazed eyes on a long neck. Yoro was rinsing him down.
“Gaster!” said Mary, looking up. “We haven’t been here a day and you’ve taken your life in your hands already. Take your shirt off, let me see your arm.”
Gaster recovered his voice.
“Ní maith liom,” he said, and then he and Mary stared at each other.
“What?”
“What? Sorry, wrong language. I’m still rebooting from—from.” He gestured. Sans recognized a few sloppy, unrelated Wingdings gestures.
“Oh, that’s a skeleton thing, isn’t it? Keep your shirt on if you want, but you need to change it right after this.”
“Should I shampoo him again?” said Yoro, and Mary ran her fingers through the conductor’s plumage.
“Yes. Thank you. Gaster?”
“OK. Someone hold my cat?”
He produced the cat and looked around. Mary leaned backwards slightly.
“What. How.”
“I’m too tall not to be big-boned, Mary.”
“But…” she gestured in confusion. Gaster set the cat down and he walked out to join the monsters clustered around the doorway. Seon ruffled herself around to face him with a ‘hey, there, lil guy!’ and Psammites hesitated, then sniffed her nose.
“I put a towel down for him to sit on,” said Gaster, peering down his pants. “and my pants are pretty tight, so he can lean against the front.”
Mary looked at him.
“That. Makes sense.”
She flung down the washrag she was holding, folded her arms across her chest and began choking with laughter.
“Are you alright, Mary?”
“Yes. Gzznhf. You will never cease to surprise me.”
“Well, you carry things around in your pelvis, it’s just that they’re squishy, non-transferable things.”
“Get over here.”
“Yes ma’am.” He shrugged out of his coat and rolled up his slimed sleeve. Mary turned the next shower on and jerked his arm under it, attacking it with a stiff brush.
“Did anyone else touch it?” she asked, looking at the monsters outside. There was a round of head-shaking. “Good, then, we’re off to a good start. It’s just Gaster and this poor fellow.”
“Oh, I’m not important?” said Gaster.
“You’re incredibly important, you’re just an idiot.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The slime had mostly come off, but there were discolored streaks on Gaster’s radius and ulna. Mary rubbed at them, frowning.
“That’s silver damage, it won’t come off.”
“Wh… of course it is,” Mary shrugged it off. “Why is none of this in your file?”
“Well… not worth mentioning?”
“I’m becoming increasingly certain that ‘it’s been a while’ means you haven’t had a checkup since the 1800s.”
“Mary, you underestimate me. It’s been since 1600 at least.”
“Mmhmm. Are you free tomorrow morning?”
“Nnnnoooooo?”
“When are you free?”
“…Tomorrow morning is probably decent.”
“Good. Thank you. Why couldn’t we do this two months ago?”
“The. Stars. Were not aligned?”
“You’re impossible. And, I think you’re alright. Skeletons don’t take much damage from Crawlers, long as they can get away from them.” She looked over at Yoro, struggling to wash the conductor’s long neck, and brushed the conductor’s plumage aside to look at a raw sore on his back. “Alright, go away, shoo. I have to take care of this guy. Change your clothes.” Gaster turned to Alphys.
“Go, I’ll start showing monsters their rooms,” she said. “I’ll need your masterkey though.” He fished through several pockets and handed it to her.

“U-uh, so, this is kind of a stupid system actually,” said Alphys, stepping quickly in front of a stream of monsters, most of whom had longer legs, “but it should work. These touchpads need to be calibrated—like so—“ she swiped the card, then stretched up to press a paw against it. The door unlocked with a click. “And there we go, that’s mine. So, now, only I can open it from outside. Uh, I think anyone can open it from the inside, I’m not sure? Maybe not? Anyway, it should work fine once we’ve got them all calibrated, as long as I don’t mess up and give you the wrong room… And once I’ve got your room ready you can start moving your stuff in..”
Sans peeked around Alphys into her room. It was about the size of his room at home, a bit more sterile and cubical. Seemed decent. He wasn’t going to do anything with his anyway except make it a disreputable mess.

Psammites sniffed along the edge of the oversized bed with an expression of distaste, then hauled himself with an effort onto one of Gaster’s boxes and settled there. Gaster was digging through his coat pockets, removing things that wouldn’t do well in the wash. His cell phone fell out of a pocket he’d forgotten sewing. He remembered that he had a cell phone. He picked it up, found a number he hadn’t called yet and called it. After two rings it stopped ringing, and he recognized faint background noise and, after straining for a moment, what sounded like more-or-less-patient fire waiting for him to start a sales pitch or the wrong number song.
“Hey, G?”
“.Gaster?” Grillbz sounded pleasantly surprised.
“Hey! How’s your Xenophantian?”
“.what?.I haven’t spoken it in years, but I could.why?”
“We’ve encountered one of your kind in the magma.”
“.really.”
“Yeah! He was very helpful actually.”
“.really.”
“You don’t sound very excited.”
“.ff.I haven’t met many fire spirits.”
“So, isn’t this interesting?”
“.I fought the last one I met.”
“Oh. Any particular reason?”
“.yes, actually.he was looking at me funny.”
“Oh. OK. Well—do you want to meet him? Because I was hoping you could translate for us—“
“I’m doing well, by the way.”
“Huh?”
Fire noises. Someone dropped a plate in the background.
“I uh—oh. How—how are you doing—.”
“.well.I’m working.goodbye Gaster.”
The phone went dead in Gaster’s hand, and he cringed.
“Ah, great, nice. And I thought he was the one who was bad at friendship.”
Psammites yawned, and Gaster turned to face him and cleared his throat.
“Greetings, friend, I’ve been busy but I’m calling anyway to say hi and I’m really glad we met again after all these years, and not just to ask a favor. I did not completely forget. How are you doing?”
Psammites stared and licked his lips. Gaster changed his stance.
“Hey there, how are you? I will listen to your answer for an appropriate amount of time before mentioning that I also need your help but that’s definitely not the only reason I called.”
Psammites tucked his paws under his chest and blinked slowly.
“I love you, too, cat.” Gaster sat down on the bed. “How about, greetings, I’m not dead and I’m still a little in shock from that, too, how are you? Are you in shock? Are you… do you want to talk to me? Hi.” He laughed. “Oh no. I’m terrible at this.” Psammites gave him an unsympathetic look and closed his eyes. Gaster sighed and tugged a clean shirt out of his bag.  

 

A/N: It’s been thirty whole chapters and we’re still just getting started. Happy St. Patrick’s day. (Also don’t forget St. Gertrude of Nivelles, patron saint of CAAAATS, who shares a feast day with him.) It seems fitting that our chapter numbers become trifoliate on this day. You know that a trefoil is a three-leaved plant, right? Well, or an architectural structure. Or a Girl Scout cookie, as someone once pointed out in a Minecraft multiplayer lobby… I had forgotten that that was a thing…

You want a translation of what he said? Basically this.
(I recently was introduced by some fine friends to the pure joy that is Star War: The Third Gathers: Backstroke of the West, a bootlegged Chinese version which was hilariously ruined by a combination of well-meaning but awkward translation and then a nice round of back-translation via Google. It was so awesomely terrible that there’s now a dub of the final wreckage that is Backstroke of the West on YouTube. Partake, my friends. I spread the joy.) 

--CONTEST--

Hey! Wanna participate in a contest? I recently did on DeviantArt and won some points. I’m working on getting a few art commissions from people better than me at this art thing, but I have enough extra for another one and I can’t decide what to do.

So let’s have a ridiculous theory contest and the winner gets to pick what CORE-related thing I commission!

You may or may not have seen this: Super Edgy Undertale Theory Generator Kinda like that, but better because you’re smarter than an online generator.

Come up with a ridiculous CORE theory. You get points for having it be almost plausible but hilariously strange. For example, Speedy Jellyfish once produced this to explain why Gaster is always surrounded by cats:

“Perhaps Gaster’s magic is sufficiently powerful that he generates virtual cat-anticat pairs around him all the time, and occasionally the anticat falls into a miniature black hole, meaning the virtual cat pops into existence without being annihilated.
That’s the gist of Hawking radiation, albeit with cats instead of virtual particles.”

Or you could go classic and have a “Gaster never escaped the void he just went insane and he’s hallucinating all this”, or a “X character used to be/is in a relationship with Y character but (blah blah blah) and (angst angst unnecessary angst).”

Randomness for the sake of randomness is totally encouraged (have you even read my humor) but something completely out there, like “Doctor Who is Sans’ mum. Because I said so.” is probably not going to get picked.

Guidelines:

-Put your ridiculous theory of awesomeness in a comment and I will see it and (do the happy dance that someone replied and then) make a note.

-Bonus points for: referencing something I’ve only mentioned in a oneshot or the bio mentioned in the last author note, or satirizing something about my writing.

-This won’t necessarily win it for you but it will make me happy.

-Sadly it’s probably going to boil down to me just arbitrarily picking my favorite and that’s kinda dumb but I don’t have other ideas. Also, having read all this you should have some idea of what I like.

-How bout this I’ll force ConvenientAlias to go over the submissions with me to get a second opinion. This is your cue to go be nice to her heheh

-Feel free to upvote other people’s comments. (Also: upvote, I said. “If you can’t say somethin nice don’t say nothin at all.”)

-Have a commission idea that’s not ridiculously complicated, I do not have that much money and we don’t want to drive the artist crazy either.

-I will be typing up all the entries in a Tumblr post for lols and posterity (unless you ask me not to include yours).

-Don’t sweat it, it’s meant to be a silly fun ridiculous thing, a massive amount of effort is not needed. I’ll just be glad you said something, even if it’s “all hail avocado.”

-The deadline will be, um, (pulls number out of the air) before morning of the 26^th, a week and two days from now.

Alright, that’s it except the prize! (I mean if you can call it a prize when I’m not even giving you candy) This part needs an explanation.

I entered a contest by JimPAVLICA (he has an ask blog you’ve probably seen him) and while glancing through the other entries found a really good one and left a brief comment mentioning that it had great design and detail
and the artist got back to me acting really happy because apparently they don’t get a lot of comments saying more than ‘dis gud’ or something
and I looked at the rest of their art and it was great and they’re just a really good artist and stuff so I was fangirling and
they gave me points
for complimenting them
because I had put up a post about winning a small amount of points in another contest and how nice it was to not be totally broke for once
And I didn’t know what to do with the points so I tried to commission them and they were like “nah I’ll do that for free I wanted an excuse to draw something for Undertale anyway” and proceeded to draw an amazing Sans. For free.
….
I will commission this beautiful human being. With points. And you will choose the character! Here is the commission page: I currently have 377 points, a finished Sans, a pending commission of Gaster, and an inability to make decisions, go wild.

Commission Sheet

You are free to post random suggestions if you want but don’t tell me your official request until after I’ve picked a winner so my choice isn’t biased by the commission suggestions. Also, if you have an idea but don’t get picked, go ahead and post it because I could attempt it myself terribly or try to get it done later if I like it. Or failing that we could all imagine it in our heads, which is the next best thing and still pretty fun.

The moral of this story is, if you see some art that you think is cool and there aren’t a huge amount of detailed comments, just comment. I know it makes my day when I get a review from someone, and artists love it too, as was just illustrated. (haha illustrated, unintentional pun) seriously, the power of words is underestimated. I think online you feel like what you say won’t really affect anyone maybe, but it does. Use the power of your keyboard for good.

Anyway I think this will be great fun! Woo! And here’s the free ‘commission’ of Sans the artist already did: Starry CORE Sans

Chapter 31: I Have a Great Sense of Humor Which Only Occasionally Involves Putting my Subordinates in Mortal Peril :D

In which something is tarnished. 

Suger’s house was separated from the road by a hedge and small stone-paved circular courtyard. A single high-quality crystal of an almost reddish purple gleamed brightly in a stand, picking the space out of the darkness. Husk stood looking at it, then turned to the door.
“Here we go.”
Before he could open it it was wrenched open.
“Get in here!”
“Wh—“
“You’re missing the best part!”
Suger disappeared. Husk stood in the doorway a moment, hearing the television from inside and the quiet sounds of life from the street outside, then came in. A trophy from the human world, a disintegrating fake mounted fox head, hung on the wall in front of him. He looked sympathetically at it. Suger stood in the living room to his right, balanced on the back of the couch and pulling his ears.
“I’m starting to wonder if you care about me at all,” said the TV.
“NO HE DOESN’T STEVE! NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU STEVE! YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE STEVE!”
Shouted Suger over the rest of the dialogue. Husk came in slowly.
“What is happening?”
“If you’d… like to come along.” Said the TV.
“NOT WITHOUT THE DOG!” Shouted Suger. “WHERE’S THE DOG? IT WAS THERE ALL EPISODE AND THEN IT JUST DISAPPEARS?”
“Is it ending?” asked Husk.
There was a montage of clean empty highways curving away into sunset, a not-very-catchy guitar riff, and then a scroll of words started inching across the screen. Suger screamed and tumbled down onto the couch.
“The idiots forgot the dog,” he groaned. “Can you believe it? Do they not watch their own show?”
“Maybe not,” said Husk. “Why did you want me?” Suger hopped up and shut the TV off.
“Was there a reason?”
“I don’t know. Wasn’t there?”
“Well, there is now. Sit down, this is hilarious. You need to hear this.” He pulled his phone out of a pocket of his lab coat. Husk wondered idly why he was wearing a lab coat in his house. True, he himself was wearing his armor, but that was because it was his uniform and was difficult to change out of at short notice.
“Question.”
“Yes?”
“Why the lab coat?”
“Because I like it.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, Gaster called me earlier today, sounding even more scattered than usual, to inform me that the second train had hit a Crawler on the tracks and stopped more or less at the station, meanwhile part of the Crawler squeezed into the train, absorbed the Conductor, smashed a window and started to ooze menacingly towards the lab.” Suger wriggled his fingers. “That’s my ‘ooze of menacing horror’ motion. Anyway, they slapped it with a girder and it died.”
“They what?”
“They pulled the conductor out first. It wasn’t them actually with the girder, they’ve somehow befriended a magma spirit. I didn’t know there was one down there. It seems this project was cursed from the beginning.” Suger hummed happily and pressed play.
“—alright now,” Gaster’s voice came through, a bit scratchy, and he did sound a bit frantic. “So, uh, if I understood him correctly, Hass says there are more of these things, that they’ve been coming through regularly.”
“Mm-hmm,” came Suger’s voice. There was a pause.
“I find this concerning,” remarked Gaster, rather sharply.
“Yes, me too,” said Suger. “You did read the memo, yes?”
Dr. Suger put the phone down on the couch cushions and buried his face in his paws, attempting to stifle a rising fit of laughter.
“What—I—yes. Why?”
“The Philips Project unfortunately may have the side effect of occasionally shunting Crawlers into your general area. It couldn’t be avoided.”
There was a long pause. Small bursts of hilarity were escaping Suger’s paws.
“W h a t ?”
“What, what?” said Suger innocently, “You did read the memo, right? I’m sure that was in there somewhere.”
“Somewhere?! You should have told me—!”
“But you said you’d read it.”
“I…skimmed it. It didn’t seem to relate to me. You didn’t tell me that it did.”
“I asked you to read it, and you said that you had.” Suger on the recording sounded a mixture of honestly confused, annoyed, and concerned. “Are you prepared for this?”
Suger on the couch gave up and tumbled to the floor, shrieking with laughter.
“Uh, psychologically, no, but I think we can adapt, hopefully. I guess we’ll just have to see.” Gaster’s voice had gone shaky, Husk couldn’t tell whether from fear, anger or shock. Perhaps a combination.
“Ah, good,” said Suger’s concerned voice from the couch cushion. “Well, keep me updated. And read your emails!”
The only response was a sound of faintly labored breathing. Suger reached up, still quivering with laughter, and turned the recording off.
“You know, some days I really love myself.”
Husk grunted.
“Come on, not even a snicker?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand how this relates to your plan?”
“Plan? Oh don’t confuse my personal rivalry with Gaster with our plan. Although, it is usually easy to make the two aspects agree with each other—I’m sorry, do you want something? Juice? I’m going to get some juice.”
“Is it carrot juice.”
“Uh, no?” said Suger blankly.
“Alright, sure.” After a moment’s consideration Husk added a cardboard-sounding “thank you.” Suger hopped up and went into the kitchen, coming back with two glasses of an angry-looking chartreuse substance which Husk regarded with a half-raised brow before tasting. It was good.
Suger flopped onto the couch beside him with a sigh.
“Now I think of it, I can understand your confusion. Gaslighting Gaster doesn’t seem like an utterly professional thing to do, but it appeals to me on two fronts. It’s not purely that it’s so fun to needle him, though there’s that, too; but it is part of the plan.”
“What is your plan for Gaster, exactly? I never quite got that part.”
“Mm.” Suger sipped his juice. “Well, we need him, see. But not the way he is. He’s addled.”
“Like Asgore.”
“No no, worse. Asgore will at least pretend to do the right thing, even though it’s clear he won’t really go through with it. Gaster is simply deranged.”
“He doesn’t seem deranged. Eccentric, maybe. But I haven’t been around him as much as you have.”
“No. Have you heard the story of his life?”
“He’s old, isn’t he? A boss monster without a child. I’ve heard he’s been here since just after the Barrier was created.”
“That’s true, and boss monsters aren’t supposed to live that long, he’ll tell you himself. If they don’t have children within the course of a normal lifespan they usually adopt another of their species as successor. There aren’t many skeletons down here, and he’s unsocial anyway. I digress—perhaps it’s better to keep the boss monsters we have. Anyway! Yes, he came not long after the Barrier was formed. Came—I mean, he was thrown through, by humans. He’d been trying to sneak stragglers into the Barrier under cover of darkness and they caught him, slaughtered the rest and let him through mostly dead. The King and Queen were both nearby when he came through or he wouldn’t have lived. Asgore was better at healing then, and the Queen—well neither of us have met her, but I hear she was exceptional. They saved him and took him in for a while, but he’d gone a bit insane. He says that he stopped experiencing time in a linear fashion and had visions of different times and places.” Suger paused to look at Husk.
“Classic psychosis,” he murmured and drank more of his juice.
“That’s what it sounds like, though of course, who knows what really happened. There was certainly a shocking amount of mad science going on at that time… Well, he recovered, more or less, after some years, and Asgore made him Royal Scientist.” Husk looked up, frowning.
“Dr. Gaster was the Royal Scientist?”
“Briefly, yes. It didn’t last. He was still slightly deranged, and attempted to self-medicate with a cocktail of stone-age formulated drugs—they were just starting to experiment in that field, lightyears ahead of the humans, but still horribly far behind where we are, even with the state the drug department is in these days.”
“Huh. How’d that go?”
“How do you think that went? He had a complete breakdown and had to resign. He kept himself together for a while, long enough to write up some theories on the orbits of stars—some of which were correct, crazy or not we were always far ahead of the humans with him in charge—and be an eccentric uncle figure to the royal children. After they died and the Queen disappeared, he had a final breakdown and disappeared until the present day.”
Husk’s eyebrows scrunched together, the first real expression he’d made since coming in.
“You know this?”
“Yes. It was hard to piece together, but it’s certain—I got some of it from Asgore, though he prefers not to talk about it.”
“But that was hundreds of years ago.”
“Exactly.”
“Where has he been?”
“Who knows? My point is—it took him that long to get to where he is now, and I don’t think that he’s particularly stable even now. But that’s good. He’s no help to use the way he is, with his obsessions of pacifism and resignation to fate or whatever he professes. But I don’t want him dead. I’d like him to see that we’re right, but I don’t think that will happen unless he’s been broken. Fortunately he lives halfway there. It’ll only take a little nudge.” Suger finished his juice and leaned back. “So, I’ve been nudging him.” He grinned. “And that’s the story. I must admit, I rather enjoy our little pet rivalry, too. I have time, after all. We don’t know when the next human will fall down… our only drawback is that he, flawed as he is, is functionally immortal, and I am not.”
Husk peered into his half-finished juice.
“So you don’t really oppose the Core project. You’re just messing with him. Is that it?”
“Oh no no no, I completely oppose the Core project. Make the Underground a homey place with all the mod cons of the surface and half the monsters won’t want to leave. We need them with us.”
“Oh, so that’s it. Don’t you think the Core could be useful?”
“It would be more of a problem than a help, and many other things would be more useful. You and Gaster both have a sad ignorance of the most powerful, most unstable and consequently least understood type of power known to us.”
Husk looked up with a faint smile. This was Suger’s jam and he recognized it.
“Soul magic.”
“Stay there.” Suger sprang off the couch. Husk heard him land several feet into the next room and patter around. He came back with a dark box which he carried wrapped in a towel.
“Careful. Don’t touch it.”
“Is that—silver?”
“Yes. One of the few privately owned specimens in the Underground.” He opened the lid to display a line of vials in a spectrum of watery colors. “Asgore still won’t let me at the souls myself, but we’ve learned a lot just from studying their magical signature. The essence of human souls—what makes them different from ours, powerful but less attuned to magic—is this stuff I like to call Determination.”
“That’s colorful.”
“It’s accurate. It’s still mostly theory, but I think it corresponds to the color red.”
“That’s also colorful,” said Husk flatly. “What are these?”
“Attempts at isolating it.”
“Shouldn’t they be at the lab?”
“Some are. I’m not averse to taking the failures home for further tests. Or to borrowing small samples form the more promising batches.” He raised a vial with a faintly red liquid and smiled at it. The color matched his eyes, Husk thought, and squirmed a little in his armor.
“But why in silver? Doesn’t silver disrupt magic?”
“Monster magic, yes. It sustains and amplifies human magic. That’s why Asgore hates silver so much, and why there’s so little of it down here. It was weaponized by humans during the war. Weapons edged with silver, silver-tainted water even in some cases—there was the added bonus that silver is beneficial to humans. The worst that can happen to a human who absorbs silver is their skin turns a bit funny looking, but that’s only from a massive overdose. Some eat it in little flakes. Say it’s healthy.”
“Huh.”
“So, seeing how well Determination goes with our enemy silver, it makes me wonder. How does Determination react with a monster’s magic?”
“I don’t know. Have you tested it?”
Suger looked up.
“Have you noticed any negative effects since you started taking those pills?”
Beat. Husk sat up a little straighter.
“This isn’t related. Right?”
“Mostly.”
“Dr. Suger.”
“There’s an infinitesimally small amount of it mixed in there, yes. It clearly hasn’t killed you.”
Husk shuddered suddenly.
“Well? How have you been?”
“You should have told me.”
“That wasn’t in the agreement. I was sure such a small amount couldn’t harm you.”
“That explains some things—my magic’s been—“
“Different?”
“More volatile.”
“Stronger?”
“Yes, but also more difficult to control. I think that’s the Determination.”
“Hard to tell with everything I’ve got you on. Alright, we’ll cut that out and see how you do. Thanks for testing it out.” Suger grinned. Husk glared at him. “Hey, come on. It hasn’t hurt you, has it? I’m careful! Unlike some other Royal Scientists we’ve known.”

 

A/N: Did anyone pick up on the Philips Project reference

Crawlers 

Philips 

Howard ____ Lovecraft

The contest mentioned in the last chapter is still going, and thank you to everyone who already contributed, I really enjoy reading what you come up with!

Also I have apparently had the second playlist I’ve been working on posted publicly for a while without realizing it so uhhh here you go might as well give you the link it’s pretty much completed anyway, here: Arc II Mix

I'll let you try to figure out what kind of sense this all makes. :) I'll post a justification of my choices later. Is it eerie? It's supposed to be slightly eerie. 

Yeah, like. Whoever forgets something that was supposed to happen in their own fic. Lol. Never ever seen that happen ever.

“Why did I invite you over again? Oh yeah! So I could mind-trip you and yank your chain! Just so you have to be reminded of our menacing unexplained ambiguously evil agreement of deaaaaaaath! And share this very excellent juice. Which, in a shocking turn of events, was not poisoned!”

OK so I actually find it really cute that Suger wears a lab coat around everywhere even when it’s completely inappropriate, just because he likes it and he’s the Royal Scientist so he CAN. 

Storytime: when I was in middle school there was a science field trip and we got to test the chemical composition of urine samples while wearing REAL LAB COATS and of course we were all like ‘this is the literal best, can we keep them for ever??’ and had to have it explained to us by the chemists who were working with us that no no no that completely defeats the purpose of a lab coat, it’s white so stains show up and you’re supposed to throw it away as soon as you’re done using it to prevent contamination.
I mean I’m sure there’s some variation here but that’s how modern chemistry does the lab coat thing as far as I can tell. So, yeah.
Suger don’t care about your dumb rules though. So in a way he’s like fourteen-year-old me, except he can get away with it.

Also. Where else have we seen wiggly fingers as an ‘ooze of menacing horror’ motion?

Chapter 32: Help Help I'm Having An Emotion

In which there is elemental spidey-sense. 

G? Hey, it’s me. It’s…
Hey.
….
Anyway. Uh, we’re here. Sorry about earlier? I uh. That wasn’t a great way to start a conversation. Anyway. It’s been kinda crazy here…
a faint, broken laugh.
Suger is… in charge of a project to move Crawlers away from more densely populated areas into, guess where? Hotland. And for some reason they need to come right by the lab… He, uh, apparently told me all about this in the middle of a ridiculously long and complicated memo that didn’t appear to relate to anything… Guess I should read more carefully huh.
….
 Well that’s about it. I can tell you the rest…
G. I’m sorry.
…..

CLICK.

TO DELETE MESSAGE PRESS 7. TO SKIP PRESS 9.
…..

SKIPPING.

Hello, this is Gambino’s Pizza with an offer you can’t refuse!

“.incorrect.”

Grillbz let the messages run through. The ad for pizza, (he’d heard it was satisfyingly greasy, he ought to try it sometime) a particularly uncomfortable rendition of the Wrong Number Song, and then the recent message from Gaster. He lay on his back, eyes closed, flames a low red, letting the sound of each message sink through him. He was naked, as he preferred to be when at home. He liked being able to let his flames breathe.

Well that’s about it. I can tell you the rest…

The floor was of hardwood, not very common in the Underground; smooth and warm from his heat. There was no furniture in this room, he considered it unnecessary. His dull light collected at the edges of the weapons lining the walls like shades of the blood that they had once spilled.

U-uh hey… can I.. I mean, are you…. There…. Oh no. I got it wrong. Oh no….
terrified breathing. Then, a deep breath:
Oh, it’s the wrong number, the wrong numb-num… Oh no I can’t do it, Oh no…. I’m so sorry

CLICK

G? Hey, it’s me.

He listened.

It’s…. hey.

Grillbz was not emotionless, but he preferred not to experience his emotions. He observed them through a screen, but every now and then, very rarely, one would elude him, get outside the screen where he couldn’t see it, and wreak havoc.

Anyway. Uh, we’re here.

He listened to Gaster’s voice, feeling the pressure of the boards on his back, the weight of the room’s air, trying to trace the exact sensations the voice evoked.

Guess I should read more carefully huh.

Fondness, wry amusement, surprise, nostalgia? Traces of those, he thought.

Hello, this is Gambino’s Pizza with an offer you can’t refuse!

He let it run through the cycle again.

G?

G, huh.

Hey.

Hey.

What was this?

A memory presented itself with sudden clarity. Tiny shards of ice dropping through a gusting wind, cutting sideways across his view of Gaster’s black coat, some disappearing in minute puffs of steam where they touched Grillbz. There was a desolate, dead feel to the air, and a predominating reek of burning human flesh.
“.told you it wasn’t me this time.”
Gaster turned slightly. Grillbz joined him at the edge of the trench. Below them, a heap of dead humans was cooking slowly.
“I suppose it’s better than throwing them outside the walls,” Gaster murmured. Somewhere a bell tolled without rhythm, abandoned in the wind.  Grillbz studied the expressionless face beside him.
“.I think I liked you better when you hated me.” Gaster turned towards him.
“I never hated you.”
That didn’t make sense.

Anyway. It’s been kinda crazy here…

Again, that broken laugh.

This one he recognized for sure. Concern. Almost a degree of fear, not something he often indulged in, though he was familiar with its existence.

Well that’s about it. I can tell you the rest…

The message ended with a click and Grillbz stopped the next one from playing. That. That was it. He’d figured it out.

All the other emotions played a part, but mostly it was irritation. Irritation on its way to being quite a respectable anger.

All those years…

He could have at least sent a postcard.

Hey, G.
In case you were wondering, I’m not dead, nor am I crazed out of my mind. Just need to work through some stuff, alone. I knew you’d understand. Thanks.
So don’t worry. Meet up in a couple centuries?
-Uncial Gaster

That would have spared him the discomfort of combing Waterfall for years in the nasty dampness and finding nothing, and slowly realizing that he was supposed to find nothing, that Gaster didn’t want to be found, that Grillbz was included in the list of monsters he didn’t want to see.

He replayed the message.

G? Hey, it’s me, it’s… Hey.

An odd pain twitched at his core and he paused the recording. And what the hell was that? He didn’t like it. And oh, yep, there was anger again.

He hated having to do this. Usually his emotions were simple and stayed outside, where they were supposed to, like well-trained hounds.

He played it again. Then let the cycle of messages run through and played it again.

He liked Gaster’s voice. He wasn’t sure how he liked the way it felt to listen to it. Maybe? It was smooth and low. Grillbz’ was a keening, reedy shriek when he spoke at his normal tone, and when he lowered it to a range acceptable to most other monsters it became the breaking of dry stems. Wingdings was easier.
Wingdings also varied in its expression from monster to monster. Sans enunciated carefully yet with a carelessness of motion that made it look sloppy. He didn’t put too much energy into it. Gaster’s hands twitched like frantic spiders, sometimes making mistakes and crossing them out, crossing them out—sharper snaps too, Sans snapped quietly. Tahoma had been simply terrible at Wingdings, but he’d spoken what he knew quickly and with fluid motions. Who else had he known—? No one who was alive any more, or who had been within twenty years.

He listened to the pizza ad again as a sort of emotional palate cleanser. It was offensively upbeat and did the job well. Then he listened to Gaster’s message again, focusing on the tone. His voice had a ragged up-and-down drift that he didn’t like the sound of. It worried him, then with another wave of bitterness he remembered that Gaster had gotten along without his help for centuries and he could damn well keep on that way.
Right?
This was why emotions were confusing. They rarely came one at a time, they came in tangled-up balls of unmatched yarn scrap. He could take one of anything at a time, he thought, and then Gaster showed up with all his contradictions and passions and suddenly nothing the hell made sense. Grillbz decided he should have stayed gone. He sulked in the feeling, aware that it was cathartic and would probably shift into something else over the next half hour. But something else caught his attention. He’d been focused inwards, but he sensed a lot of activity outside. With a sigh, he refocused, leaning into the boards and letting the feel of the earth, the snow, the outside air flow through him.
There was a huge, indistinct mass of something roiling up between the houses, preceded by a wave of decaying magic.
Ah lovely, one of those things.
He stood, reluctantly leaving his introspection, shaking his flames back into bright orange alertness, and turned, thinking he should throw some clothes on before going out. He’d never worn clothes at first, he had no reason to, and the other races were used to seeing naked elementals around. But then they started to disappear. During and after the War between Humans and Monsters, it had been important for him to blend in as much as possible, which meant not only clothes but very covering clothes. He had a special hatred for hoods. They made him feel smothered. More recently, he’d kept up the habit of wearing clothes, since all the other monsters were used to seeing him clothed and would probably feel uncomfortable if he went back to his preferred state. Elementals were no longer well known.
He didn’t make it out of the room. As he stood, there was a rush from outside, a splintering sensation, and then some large, hard object crashed into him, forcing him down onto the floor. It took him a moment to comprehend what had just happened. The Crawler had punched in part of his wall. Meanwhile, the bulk of it rushed on past, into the heart of Snowdin.
He clawed out of the rubble and stared blankly at the large object sitting on the wreckage that had previously been a large section of his wall.
It was a car.
There was a slimed, drippy, blackened car sitting in his living room.
…He’d consider that later. He shook himself and raced vindictively after the Crawler.

IT WAS RATHER LATE, BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS STILL OUT. THERE WAS NO REAL REASON TO GO HOME. AND SO MANY COOL MONSTERS TO TALK TO! HE KEPT RUNNING INTO MONSTERS HE KNEW. AT THE MOMENT HE WAS TALKING TO ONE OF HIS FELLOW GUARDSMEN, A HUGE, SCARRED WHITE WOLFISH DOG NAMED ARU. HE WAS TELLING ARU A FUNNY STORY ABOUT SANS’ RIDICULOUS LEVEL OF LAZINESS WHEN ARU STIFFENED AND SNIFFED THE WIND, THEN LOOKED BEHIND PAPYRUS. PAPYRUS’ GUARD SENSE TOLD HIM THAT SOMETHING WAS UP, SO HE TURNED TO FACE THE SAME DIRECTION.
“What?” SAID THE GREAT PAPYRUS.
A MOMENT LATER MR. GRILLBY SKIDDED INTO VIEW BETWEEN TWO HOUSES AND CAME RUNNING TOWARDS THEM. HE WAS NAKED. PAPRYUS BLINKED, WONDERING IF HE SHOUD AVERT HIS GAZE. A MOMENT LATER HE REGISTERED THE FACT THAT MR. GRILLBY WAS BEING FOLLOWED BY A CRAWLER.

He’d gotten it to follow him, alright, but the street wasn’t empty as he’d hoped. Aru would move, but Papyrus was just gawking at him.
“.move!” he hissed, then coughed and pitched his voice up to a shriek.
“MOOOOOOVE!” Aru flinched away, shaking his sensitive ears, and Papyrus jerked into motion. A moment later he and his dark pursuer crashed into the street and he caught a glimpse of Aru dragging Papyrus clear of the whipping tendrils. Grillbz spun, catching the tendrils that the Crawler flung towards him in his hands and cooking them. The Crawler jerked back with a shriek. He followed after it, punching bursts of fire magic into its slimy center, crackling Doric imprecations under his breath. He could sense the monster buried in its center, and that it was still alive. He dug into the slimy mass, snarling, and it curled away from his heat, whipping at him with tendrils which flinched away when he burned them. A sodden body brushed against his arm, and he felt only the faintest twinkle of life magic. He elbowed it away and plunged his arm into the Crawler’s center, where the living one was. He caught something damp and furry and pulled. Tendrils wrapped around it, trying to hold it in place, and the Crawler started to close around his arm. He put a stop to that with a burst of fire magic. The mass billowed away with a shriek and he wrenched the body free, turned, and flung it.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS WATCHED IN AWE AS MR. GRILLBY TORE INTO THE CRAWLER. HE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHY HE WASN’T A GUARD! HE WAS AMAZING!
HE WAS ALMOST TO THE CRAWLER’S MIDDLE NOW, THOUGH IT WAS CRINGING BACKWARDS, REFORMING ITSELF INTO A ROUNDER SHAPE. HE’D GRABBED HOLD OF SOMETHING AND SEEMED TRYING TO WORK IT FREE. PAPYRUS GASPED AS HE SAW IT SLIDE OUT, LIMP AND BLACKENED. IT WAS SEAL, ONE OF THE GUARDS HE KNEW, A LARGE CAT MONSTER WITH SOCKS! MR. GRILLBY FLUNG SEAL OUT INTO THE ROAD AND PAPYRUS INSTINCTIVELY STARTED TOWARDS HIM, BUT ARU WAS THERE FIRST, EXPERTLY SCRAPING THE SLIME FROM SEAL’S NOSE AND MOUTH AND BREATHING INTO HIS LUNGS. PAPYRUS, HESITATING, GLANCED BACK TOWARDS MR. GRILLBY AND NOTICED THAT THINGS HAD GOTTEN MUCH QUIETER.

He winced, then went still. What—?

MR. GRILLBY WAS LOOKING INTENTLY STRAIGHT AHEAD, AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS REALIZED THAT HE COULD SEE MORE OF HIS FACE THAN USUAL: PIERCING EYES AND A JAGGED MOUTH, HALF-OPEN. A THREAD OF LIQUID FIRE TRICKLED DOWN HIS CHIN. AFTER A MOMENT HE REALIZED THAT IT WAS BECAUSE HIS FLAMES HAD DULLED, BECOMING MORE TRANSPARENT. THEN PAPYRUS REALIZED HE WAS GROWING STILL DULLER, FADING TO A DEEP RUBY FLUSH. PAPYRUS COULD SEE THE TEXTURE OF HIS SKIN.

A sudden darkness wiped out his consciousness. It wasn’t that he forgot what he’d been about to do so much as that any ability to think or do anything ceased to exist. He was still sharply aware of his surroundings, and after a moment, he realized that the Crawler was too. It had gained his own bond to the elements. If anything, it was amplified.
He could feel tendrils softly curling around his legs, tapping into his magic. He stood still and let them.

Ahead of him, Papyrus was running towards him, Aru was dragging the still-limp cat backwards and shouting. Without consciously recognizing the words used, Grillbz understood that he was telling Papyrus to get away. Papyrus obviously wasn’t listening.

He was optimistic—as evidenced by the fact that he seemed to be screaming his name as he ran forwards, as if expecting some response—but not foolhardy around Crawlers. He was fairly good at dodging, he thought.

They thought.

They let Papyrus approach until he was well within striking range, then whipped out with a wave of tendrils. He scurried backwards, parrying with bones. Hm. Good.
A row of bones ripped through the tendrils tethering Grillbz to the bulk of the Crawler, which had oozed up closer to him, almost freeing him. They writhed and refastened. Then, Grillbz felt something seize his soul, something distinctly separate from the black presence around him, and it tugged forwards before fading weakly. He fell to his knees.
It felt… familiar. 
There it was again. He stood and leaned into it, and stumbled a few feet, stretching the tendrils taut behind him. Something in him screamed for him to stop and he faltered. Bones stabbed through the tendrils, loosening a few. Papyrus pulled him a few steps further before losing his grip.
That was Gaster’s blue attack, when had Papyrus learned it? The tendrils behind him were being pummeled with bones even as Papryus danced around, dodging the others that lashed at him. All at once Grillbz broke loose and stumbled forwards, then fell on his face. A sluggish awareness of his own free will flickered back on. He pushed himself up on hands and knees, feeling terribly heavy. The Crawler was inching up behind him. Papyrus whizzed past, parrying and ducking, and Grillbz could tell even in his semiconscious state that he couldn’t keep this up for long. He slapped a nearby searching tendril away with a weak burst of fire magic.  A delayed, horrified realization of what had nearly happened to him struck. He’d thought that Crawlers would be unable to absorb him, true, but he hadn’t known for sure and he had had no excuse for such carelessness.
In some deep corner of his mind, the blue attack connected with something that he’d been thinking of before the darkness.
Shields.
He focused his magic.
A flickering shield of light appeared around him and Papyrus, igniting the tendrils which reached inside it. The Crawler rolled quickly backwards and Papyrus slid to a stop and backed away from the heat. Grillbz pushed himself up to his knees and took several deep breaths.
The first thing he saw when he looked up was the rippling light of his shield reflected across Papyrus’ awestruck face. Grillbz could sense a group of five guards forming a perimeter around the Crawler and starting a group attack behind him. The cavalry had arrived.
He smiled reassuringly and shook himself, fluffing his flames back out into some dulled semblance of normalcy, then took Papyrus’ hand and touched his head to it.
“.that was foolish but brave, child. It seems I owe you my life.”
“WHAT? OH! NO, NOW WE’RE EVEN, FROM BEFORE! WHEN YOU SAVED SANS!”
Grillbz chuckled. Behind him he sensed the Crawler racing off down the street, greatly diminished in size and pursued by a significant number of the monsters of Snowdin. It was only a portion of the behemoth that had poured into town and thrown a car through his wall, but he’d taken care of the rest of it back by the cave wall. Papyrus extended his hand, which meant that he had no idea how much Grillbz weighed, but he graciously took the hand and let Papyrus pull while he rose to his feet.

The Crawler sank down at the edge of the town, and the dogs watched as a pair of limp, blackened bodies became briefly visible and then collapsed into dust. Immediately afterward, the Crawler lost form, spreading out over the clean snow.

 

A/N:

Here’s the link to the contest entries and breakdown of winners! If you entered, your entry is there! This includes you, Lemonbar! (I was briefly tempted to choose yours just to get out of making a hard decision between one of the others actually) OR if you’re boring and don’t like reading or surprises (in which case why are you here) or just don’t like links (fair enough, and this is justified regardless considering I recently rickrolled you all) you can skip down a few lines and just read who the winner was.

Chapter 30 Ridiculous Theory Contest Entries and Results!

The winner!

Is!

procrastinatingbookworm! Congratulations!

Welcome onboard, Anonymous Robotic Waffle. Thank you for commenting. I would like you to know that I was feeling really bleh Friday night and your comment/accidental two comments on CORE really cheered me up. And I’m happy that I helped ease your distrust of washing machines slightly. Also I really liked your three-word descriptions.
“the Kodama is an uncomfortable confused cat-holder and the orange soul is a suddenly flying human.”

OK so can we just take a moment to admire the absolutely terrifying god-awful horror of awfulness that would be a Crawler with elemental magic? Run.  

In which Papyrus has his priorities straight.
“IS THAT MR. GRILLBY, NAKED? OH LOOK, A GIGANTIC ELDRITCH BEING OF EVIL. PERHAPS WE OUGHT TO FLEE.”

I had to stop and cringe for a while after naming “Aru.” These dog names, geez.
….*points nose at the false stars* aruuuuuuuuu.

Excited acknowledgement in the comments to anyone who can identify the two references to two different historical periods/areas in this chapter and (optionally) what they are!

Deleted from playlist (posting in case anyone actually listened to it, I don’t wanna gaslight you by randomly switching stuff). Too melodramatic for the playlist, but I like the ANGSTY FRIENDSHIP/FRIENEMYSHIP theme and conveniently it actually kinda ish fits this chapter. Porcelain

And as promised, my justification for the various songs in the second playlist, which may have mildly spoilery remarks in it: CORE playlist 2.0: Another Medium

Chapter 33: Scree with Me

In which there is cathartic screaming. 

It was peaceful in the clinic. Just him and the Conductor, with Mary scribbling in her office, the door ajar. Oddly enough, neither of the patients were occupying the single bed. The Conductor preferred to roost and was hunched over one of the side bedrails with his head under his wing, and Gaster, who was significantly longer than the length of the bed, was lying on the floor with his knees bent. The room was just long enough for him to stretch out if he wished.

There wasn’t really anything wrong with him. He’d been flustered after calling Suger to report what was apparently completely normal Crawler activity (whaaaaaaat). Then he’d tried to call Grillbz back, but he was either in a tiff or, as he’d said, busy, and Gaster had further upset himself by leaving a rambling message that didn’t make sense and been interrupted by Alphys tapping on the door. Everyone’s room locks had been calibrated, would he please come out now? Mary was there too. Gaster had looked at their faces and decided he could delay explaining the implications of the Philips project until tomorrow. He’d had enough difficulty getting out that he’d called Suger about the Crawler on the tracks. Mary had taken his hand and flexed it gently, asking how it felt, and he’d admitted that it was numb. She’d ordered him up to the clinic.

He appreciated the excuse to lie on the floor and destress. She thought his shock was because of contact with the Crawler, and that was partly accurate.

How was he going to tell everyone? He had to tell them, and soon. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could possibly keep back.

Unless you were Suger.

Dammit, he was going to lose more of them over this.

Gaster tightened his jaw, then took a deep breath and thought charitable thoughts. Which were, significantly, focused on things other than Suger’s existence.

There was a quiet creak and Mary reappeared.
“How are we doing?” The Conductor silently gave her a shaky thumbs-up, then replaced his head under his wing. Gaster momentarily forgot to react. By the time he’d made eye contact she was kneeling beside him. “Hey.”
“Hey there.” She lifted and flexed his hand, kneading the bones gently with her pads. There was a faint glimmer of green magic.
“Feel that?”
“No.”
“Hm.” She moved up to a rough place on his ulna. “And it struck you here, but you do have sensation there?”
“Yes, it’s quite tender actually.”
“Hm. I don’t know why the numbness would still be affecting your hand but not your arm.”
“I don’t think it’s primarily to do with the Crawler.”
“Why not?”
Well here we go. Gaster steeled himself.
“Both my hands are numb.” Mary stared at him, then gestured for his right hand and he laid it across her paws. “This one does have some sensation. That’s usual.”
Mary, mercifully, ignored the implication—for the moment.
“Show me.”
“Part of the thumb and index finger, the carpals and the bases of the outermost metacarpals.” The ones that weren’t half missing. Mary silently kneaded his right hand, locating the areas with sensation, then laid it on his chest and fixed him in a beady stare. Here we go.
“How often does this happen?”
“Er. Not very?”
“Be more specific please.”
“I don’t know, I don’t really take much notice of it.”
“Your hands are going numb and you don’t take much notice of it?”
“I dropped some things the first few times it happened, but then I got used to it. It’s by no means the strangest thing I’ve had to get used to, or the most uncomfortable.”
“And what would that be, or dare I ask? Yes I do, it’s my job.”
“We’re doing this tomorrow.”
“Then let’s start early, and I won’t have to take you away from your work for as long.” Mary sat down on the floor next to Gaster, peering down at him over her sweatpant-clad knees. “Besides, I’d probably better sleep on some of this. Maybe the shock will have worn off enough in the morning for me to think clearly.”
“I’ve never known you to do otherwise.”
“Stop flirting and tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“Oh boy, where do I start?”
“What’s your pain level right now?”
“Oh. On the normal chart, or by my personal standards?”
“By the chart, if you expect me to understand you.”
“Huh. A nine? I don’t know maybe a seven. Pain always seems worse in the moment. And I’m working backwards so it’s probably off. By my own standards—“
“Where?”
“Hm? Uh.” Gaster raised his arms and looked at them. “A good portion of it’s my collarbone. It’s been stiff lately.”
“And?”
“It varies, depending on the day. Old cracks, new strains, it fluctuates. Sometimes it’s better.”
“You did mention the broken collarbone.”
“I did! See, I’m not intentionally keeping things from you, I just forget to mention stuff.”
“Let’s see it.”
“Now?”
“Is there a reason not to?”
“Well, no.”
Gaster sat up and wriggled out of his turtleneck, leaving it draped over his arms. He looked a little ridiculous without it, with his wide empty shoulder bones. A section on the left side of his collarbone was filled in with purple magic. Mary winced.
“Oogh.”
“It’s just shield magic.”
“That doesn’t look stable.”
“I’ve been told otherwise.”
“How long ago?”
“...Well.” Gaster frowned.
“Exactly. Can I touch it?”
“If you must.”

Mary scooted closer and gently felt around the magic connection and the edges of bone. Gaster sat very still, soul pulsing quietly inside his ribcage. The beat was within normal range, anyway, which was good, she noticed casually. Mary politely did not stare at it, though it took a certain amount of will to avoid staring at the marks on his sternum, the results of intentional silver damage. He’d mentioned them previously, calling them ‘tattoos’ which he’d had since his coming of age, which had made her question how skeleton tattooing worked. Well, she had he answer. But the sternum was a skeleton’s center of magic, closely connected to their soul. It didn’t make sense to mutilate it with antimagic. Done with the initial examination, she pressed her finger against the collarbone connection. Gaster did not flinch.
“Does that hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, thank you.” She scooted back to her former place and he wriggled back into his turtleneck, briefly becoming stuck with his elbows at odd angles. His scent lingered in the air while he struggled—Mary had read that boss monsters had a naturally appealing personal scent, especially to others of their kind. She could believe it. Smelled a bit like soda, she thought.
“And you’re not taking anything for the pain.”
“Mmff—no,” said Gaster, reappearing with a grimace.  
“You can, you know; although long term I’d advise you to have a permanent splint put in.”
“I’m aware of both those options, thank you.”
Mary nodded. Gaster had a distaste for modern drugs which seemed to extend from personal preference to the field in general. This irked her, because reviving the drug testing and research department was a special concern of hers. They’d let the humans get ahead of them in that area. Monster biology was vastly different, and so they couldn’t recreate the human pharmaceuticals that occasionally washed down and get similar results, they had to do their own research, and for some reason no one was doing it. She’d hoped to interest Gaster when he first reappeared but that didn’t look like it was going to happen. Alright, physics had also been neglected and it was good to see someone taking an interest in it, but it wasn’t as near and dear to her, as a doctor.
Well, he was behaving normally again, and his soul beat had been regular. If the numbness was a recurring problem she didn’t really need to keep him.
“Alright, you can go, but take it easy tonight, and keep me updated on how your hands are doing. Try to notice when sensation comes back.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, Mary.”
“You can thank me by keeping yourself in one piece.”
“That shouldn’t be hard, we can hope.”

The main lab was quiet and mostly empty. The lights were off, but orange light poured from the windows. Gaster walked over to once and looked out at the shimmering magma. The magma fields were pouring out unharnessed energy. If they could harness even a small percentage of those watts brightening the darkness they would be set for power for a long time to come. But it wouldn’t be quite that easy…
…There was a faint sound from outdoors. Gaster frowned, listening, then walked quickly to the main doors and let himself out. The sound resolved itself into screaming. Not panic-screaming, just screaming. Well, screaming and whistling. Gaster walked towards the edge of the shelf of rock, where Heats Flamesman stood facing Hassen. Heats’ mouth was open. As Gaster approached he paused, took a deep breath, and resumed.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Hassen tilted his head back to the ceiling and shrieked along with him at a tone that would have been deafening to any monster with ordinary ears. Gaster cringed a little as he joined them.
“What’s up with you two?”
“OH HELlo Dr. Gaster!” said Heats, dialing it back just a little and craning his head over backwards to grin up at Gaster. Hassen chirruped.
“Can you speak to him? It is your language—well, I mean—”
“What? Nah mon, I speak English.”
“Alright, that makes sense.”
“We can scream at each other though.”
“True?”
“Join us! It’s quite fun! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Hassen joined in, curdling the air.
“/eee/e/e/eee/e/e/e/e/ee/e//e/e/e//eeee/ee/e/e/e/e/eeee/e/e/e//eeee//e/ee!”
Gaster chuckled.
“Good to see you’re making friends, anyway. Aaaaaa?”
Heats and Hassen both quieted to give him a look of disappointment.
“That’s wimpy. Do better.”
“AAAAAAA.”
“Come on Doctor!” shouted Heats, thrusting out his flamey chest. “Release all your pent up rrRRAAAAAGE!”
Gaster took a deep breath and screeched, breaking into his command voice halfway.
“AAAAAAAAA A A A A A A A A A A A A A A A ! ! ! !”
Hassen jumped a little, and Heats cheered. Gaster took a moment to catch his breath, feeling strangely serene.
“That’s cathartic.”
“HELL YES! HAVE YOU WONDERED WHY I’M SUCH A CHILL DUDE?”
“You look like a hothead to me,” said Gaster, but Heats was already talking and let the pun go.
“It’s because I don’t keep stuff bottled up. I SCREAM! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
“I’m not sure that’s always the best policy but alright if it works for you. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
“eeee/e/e/e/eee/e/ee/e/ee /e/e/e/eeee/ee/e/e//e/e/e/ee/e!”
They could faintly hear shouting from behind them. Hassen’s shriek trailed off into the ether and he sank lower into the magma with an innocent-sounding burble. Heats’ yell trailed off quickly into a monotone “aaaagh.” And he turned. Gaster, slow on the uptake, kept screaming for several seconds and then stopped abruptly, snapping his teeth together.
“You boys having fun?” shouted Mary from the door. Turning, Gaster saw that she had her paws clamped over her ears. Warily she raised them.
“Yeah,” said Gaster. “Just, uh, working off some tension and bonding with our new friend here.”
“Alright. You’re supposed to be taking it easy, not busting a gut screaming your lungs out.”
“Mary, I have neither guts nor lungs.”
“You know what I mean. You’d better not faint from overexertion on your first day here. Your report is interesting enough as it is.”
“Don’t worry about me!”
“Pshh. He says, don’t worry about me.” She went back inside, chuckling. There was a moment of silence. Heats, Gaster and Hassen exchanged a glance, then resumed screaming in unison. Gaster realized shortly afterwards that Sans and Yoro must have come out right behind Mary, but their own noise was so loud as to eclipse their conversation until Sans yelled at them. They gradually silenced and turned to look at the interruption.
“WHAAAAT?” inquired Heats, and Sans made silencing gestures. He and Yoro had brought a battered radio out onto the rock shelf and were bending over it, adjusting knobs. Gaster walked closer. Someone was reporting on events in Snowdin through a stream of static.
“Waterfall………reports it entered…… did not turn back at…......................”
The static appeared to be winning. Yoro gave the radio a nervous, reflexive slap, and it suddenly cleared.
“The Crawler was diverted from the center of the town by the Snowdin elemental but witnesses say it has turned back after losing some of its mass.” There was a brief attack of static. “….after this short break.” Dinky music began to play. Sans stood up and took a breath.
“Heh. Good job with the percussive maintenance.”
“Hey, you got it working in the first place. I owe you a bone.”
“Got plenty. One sec.” Sans took out his phone and dialed a number. Yoro silently copied the motion.

 

A/N: I just realized, back in 28 I introduced the idea of Alphys using a heat rock, that’s not something I came up with, I borrowed it from the Amazing Zarla of Fame: Heat Rock Alphyne Comic

Percussive Maintenance is a TVTropes reference also.

Oh man exciting things have been happening in fandom land, and all I have to contribute this week is a rather mediocre chapter I’m sorry BUT LOOK BELOW

Guys thIS IS SO EXCITING

eriecanary drew her conception of Alphys, Suger and Yoro! It actually took me three days to notice this post because I wasn’t expecting it, but boy did it make me happy once I did! Take a look! This is some cool art, I like your skills there friend.
Cool Fanart!

Also, TaiylorWallace finished my Gaster commission, putting in way more time than she needed to, and it looks awesome. Also she’s started streaming recently so if you want to watch a person draw you could check that out, she’s fun to hang out with.
Ambertale Struck
She says that her personal idea for this scene was a sort of alternate version of events at the train station, in which either Gaster manages to piss off Carl or a Crawler shows up and he’s knocked down, extending his right side crack off to the side and making his eye run, as you can see.
Psammites is beautiful.

Also, earlier, stmb_ff aka Sirrius The Moonblade wrote a very interesting oneshot about a world where Gaster is a boss monster, as in CORE, and Sans transforms after Gaster finally dies for good in the void. Since no one remembers Gaster by that time, of course, this causes some confusion.
Sirrius says CORE partially inspired this and they’ve definitely taken the idea I’ve batted around a bit, of boss monsters’ magical succession, and run with it. It’s not (fortunately, that would be kinda strange) 100% the way I imagine it going in AmberTale but it’s really cool as its own thing, which is what it is. Here’s a link:
Let Go
Thanks for crediting me bro, it was cool to read this!

Meanwhile procrastinatingbookworm has requested a pretty cool sounding Gaster portrait for their commission, so we’re working on that—I think the artist is on vacation or something, hopefully they check their messages soon *glares expectantly at my DA Unread Sent Notes*

……

‘Shouldn’t be hard, we can hope.’ We can hope! We can hope. Why don’t you start by not jinxing it, Gaster? Oh wait, Grillbz already jinxed it.

Ugh why is Heats even in this story why did I come up with this character and go ‘hey yeah this is a great character to use’ ???

And OH LOOK, an explanation for that random throwaway line about Gaster smelling real nice back in Ch. 22 when he carried Sans to the ferry!

Hm, what do you think Asgore smells like then? Reflect in the comments!

That section was great because I’ve actually struggling with how to describe Gaster’s smell for a while, like how does one accurately describe a smell?? It’s a perennial problem that never ceases to fascinate me. People only ever describe smells in terms of other smells, don’t they? Isn’t that weird? Huh. But someone’s personal scent never will exactly match some other thing—it just smells like them. And also like ‘human,’ however you describe that. (warm, dry, mammalian? Dusty or oily? …???) or like ‘skeleton’ in this case of course. Headcanon that monsters in general smell much nicer than humans because they’re mostly magic and their bodies are less messy than ours. Oh wow I went off on a long rant and didn’t finish what I was going to say.
Anyway! Another thing about smell, it’s also picked up by different individuals in slightly different ways, and could be described in different ways, so while trying to figure out Gaster’s scent I’ve been thinking of ways that different characters would describe it.

Sans’ version is ‘smells like stars.’ Which is evocative, yes, but straight up not helpful in practical terms.

Grillbz, if you forced him to really think about it, would say ‘baker’s chocolate.’ Which is. Slightly more helpful.

I had no idea what I was going to say about it in this chapter right up until I was writing those lines and then I realized how Mary would describe it, and it was…? Maybe the most accurate thing I’ve thought of yet? And also that’s just such a Mary way of putting something, so it made me really happy for two reasons. Yay for writer serendipity!

Anyway, so, I think what we’re going for is it’s kind of a light but dark scent? (Baker’s chocolate has no sugar and has a kind not extremely rich smell to it.) And there’s a. Sort of. Aaaaagh! What’s the word? Mineral? No? The… kind of aftertaste of the smell of soda, or the ‘smell’ that would be evoked by starlight if someone asked you to associate a smell with starlight. Like, a mineral floral. *throws desk* Did I just write the words ‘a mineral floral’ OK bye we’re done here I need to sleep

‘A mineral floral’

A descriptor, a descriptor. My kingdom for a descriptor.

WAIT NO HERE WE GO

https://www.fragrantica.com/notes/

deep and not particularly sweet, with a dusty feel and a bitterish edge –Dark Chocolate

Eh?....

THAT DIDN’T ACTUALLY HELP MUCH I don’t think the dusty or bitterish part applies and that’s half of it

………..

He smells like the sound a cooking knife makes when being used to cleave a woody stem from the branch.

Alright next contest is 2AM synesthesia lol

So what we’ve got so far is ‘not particularly sweet, kinda deepish maybe sorta, and bubbles!’

THIS IS REALLY MESSING WITH ME

Fragrant. That’s. A word. And it’s where we’re going to leave it now. Sigh….

See I feel like this was clearer before I tried to describe it. Forget everything I said after the first mention of baker’s chocolate.

Tl;dr: HE SMELLS LIKE STARS writes author who should not be allowed to write rants at two in the morning.

Chapter 34: Ring Ring

In which this is not what I planned to do with my time off.

Grillbz stood looking down at where the edge of the black puddle of goop branched out over the snow, as if it had died reaching for warmth. A haze of impressions hovered at the periphery of his awareness. One of them, he realized after a moment, was Dogamy.
“Lord Grrillbz.” He said it with an extra R. Grillbz shook himself and turned.
“.excuse me.what?”
“Is that all of it?”
“.yes.I killed part of it near the cave wall.there’s no more.”
“Good.” Dogamy sniffed at the gelatinous scent and growled. “Nasty smell they’ve got. It’s like.. sour. Rrrgh.” Pause. “Is there a reason you’re naked?”
Ugh. This was why he wore clothes to begin with.
“.not particularly.I wasn’t planning on going out,it threw a car through the side of my house.”
“A CAR??”
Grillbz flinched slightly, he’d almost forgotten that Papyrus was there.
“.yes.”
“OH! CAN I SEE IT? I THINK I KNOW WHERE THIS CRAWLER CAME FROM!”

“So it does have a bottom,” reflected Dogamy, sniffing the fender of the crumpled car. Papyrus was rushing around it, excitedly telling Grillbz all that he and Sans had done to it and lamenting its current condition.
“.either that or the Crawler stopped itself from falling.they can climb over almost anything.like slugs.it may have landed on a ledge part way down and oozed back up.”
“Why did it come here, though?”
“.it was angry.this is the closest town.” Grillbz paused. “.or, it could have fallen right to the bottom and been washed in this direction by watercourses we don’t know of.No way to tell.” He shrugged.

Dogamy did not bring up the question he’d asked once before, whether Grillbz could safely explore the abyss. Grillbz wasn’t interested. It was full of water and he saw no real reason for it.

Was that where Gaster had decided to hang out? It would suit him. Grillbz snorted, and Dogamy looked curiously at him.

“AWWW, AN AXLE’S BROKEN! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FIX THAT.”
“.you want to fix it?”
“YEAH! IT WAS ABOUT THIS BAD WHEN WE FIRST FOUND IT. AND WE GOT IT TO RUN! ACTUALLY I THINK IT’S NOT TOO BAD THIS TIME! EXCEPT THE AXLE.”
“.alright, but let me get it out of my house.”
“OH RIGHT RIGHT I’M SORRY! OH NO, YOUR WALL! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT YOUR WALL?”
“.something,” Grillbz quipped, disappearing into another room. Papyrus’ voice continued, in a rather muted fashion, telling Dogamy about what he and Sans had done to the car. There was also a tinny ringtone, which Papyrus, who was in the middle of a sentence, silenced quickly. Grillbz pawed through his closet. He had casual clothes. Somewhere. There we go. He slid into an undershirt and a pair of athletic pants and, once again socially appropriate, went back into his wrecked living room, glancing along the angle of the ceiling. The house had taken remarkably little structural damage. That was good. Well, he’d have his work cut out for him. He didn’t mind the prospect of having a new project to work on.
“CAN I HELP YOU FIX YOUR HOUSE?” Papyrus burst out as soon as he reappeared, immediately followed with “OH YOU LOOK COOL!”
“.thank you no no thank you.I prefer to do it myself.you want this car?”
“WHAT? OH YES! YES PLEASE!”
“.where do you want it?”
“OH. UM. THAT’S A PROBLEM, IT’S KIND OF STILL IN YOUR LIVING ROOM—IS THIS YOUR LIVING ROOM, I CAN’T TELL?”
“.just tell me where you want it.”
“WELL THERE’S A CLEARING NEAR OUR HOUSE AND IF WE CAN GET IT UP THERE I’LL BE ABLE TO WORK ON IT AND ALSO MAYBE EVEN GET IT ONTO THE ROAD IF IT RUNS!”
“.be careful about that.roads in Snowdin are narrow, and the monsters aren’t used to cars.”
“YES, WELL, IT’S STILL STUCK AT THE MOMENT.”
“.working on it.” Grillbz walked around the car, testing his weight against it at different points. He didn’t like the deflated way the front half of it scraped on the debris. Papyrus was right about the axle. That would complicate things. It wouldn’t be easy to push it.
“I can get some of the guard dogs together to help move it,” offered Dogamy. “They’ll still be out and should be happy to help.”
“.nah that’s fine—“ Grillbz grunted, tilting the car onto its side. Papyrus’ reflections on what to do with the car broke off abruptly in a gasp. “—I got it.” With a crash of hurried movement he shoved it up and out and ended staggering in the small yard behind his house, balancing the car on his shoulders. Dogamy made a quiet impressed noise. Papyrus made a noise that was the opposite of quiet. Grillbz maneuvered himself and his burden out into the street, dropped the car and rolled to the side with a sigh. Papyrus and Dogamy arrived a light patter of feet.
“OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO AMAZING!”
“Are you alright?”
“MR. GRILLBY?”
“.yeah.” he got up and shook himself. “I’ve destroyed mountains in my day.”
“WOWIE! REALLY?!”
“.well.I wasn’t alone.and there weren’t any barriers of human magic to contend with.” He huffed. “.I’m out of shape.”
“And you can take it from here?” said Dogamy.
“.certainly.”
“Alright. Good luck Lord Grillbz. I’ll be on patrol, in case there are more of these things. It’s unlikely, but you never know, and when monsters are scared it’s best to be extra careful.”
“OH! I CAN HELP! WHERE ARE WE GOING?”
“Papyrus, take the day off. You’ve already done far more than a junior guard needed to.”
“BUT I CAN HELP! YOU SAID—“
“.Papyrus.help me move the car.they can handle it.”
“WELL… ALRIGHT. GOOD LUCK SIR! STAY SAFE!”
“Thank you, Papyrus.”
Papyrus stood watching Dogamy lope off down the street, then turned to Grillbz.
“WHY DOES HE CALL YOU LORD GRILLBZ?”
“.someone told him that was the appropriate term of respect for Elementals and he took it to heart.I don’t particularly care one way or the other.polite of him to keep it up, though.”
“SHOULD I START CALLING YOU LORD GRILLBY?”
I’d prefer you to forget the titles and use the marginally more correct contraction of my name.
“.only if you want.you’d be the first in your family.”
“OK. SANS ISN’T THE BEST ROLE MODEL ALL THE TIME, THOUGH, AT LEAST—OH THAT’S RIGHT, MOM AND DAD USED TO LIVE HERE TOO! DID YOU KNOW THEM?” As he spoke, Papyrus fumbled his phone, which was ringing again, out of his pocket and silenced it.
Grillbz cocked his head, feeling. Feeling? Peeved, that it had come up now? That Papyrus was unaware of so much? Another twitch of pain at his core. He shook himself. He had to stop doing that—not that it would be a problem anytime soon. Ah well. He had a car to move.
“.slightly.” he said, simply.
He ought to bring it up sometime. Sometime when they hadn’t just defeated an eldritch shadow beast.

Papyrus realized quickly that he wasn’t going to be any significant help in carrying the car, but continued walking next to Grillbz, underneath it, instead of going on ahead as Grillbz had suggested. This put Grillbz on edge. He didn’t believe he would drop the car, but there was always the possibility, and skeletons were fragile. 
“SANS COULD HELP. HE’S GETTING REALLY GOOD AT HIS MAGIC! HE’S STILL WORKING ON IT, OF COURSE. SO AM I. BUT IT’S REALLY COOL. YOU SHOULD SEE IT.”
“.he’s told me.but I doubt it would move a car.”
“HE DID THOUGH! HE MOVED THIS CAR OUT OF THE MUD! IT DIDN’T HAVE A BROKEN AXLE THEN, BUT IT WAS STILL PRETTY AMAZING!”
“.this car?the one I’m carrying?”
“YEAH! THAT NIGHT THAT WE RAMMED THE CRAWLER OVER THE CLIFF!”
“.he moved it with his magic?I didn’t think Sans was strong enough to move a car.especially one stuck in mud.”
“HE USED HIS TELEKINESIS.”
“.that shouldn’t make a difference.telekinesis isn’t very unusual among monsters, though I think your brother might be the first skeleton I’ve met with that skill.but it remains equal in power to the user’s physical strength.”
“OH. MAYBE HE’S BEEN WORKING OUT!”
“.Sans?”
“YOU’RE RIGHT. THAT IS A BIT WEIRD. WELL HE WAS DRUNK, THAT DOES THINGS TO YOUR MAGIC.”
“.it doesn’t make it stronger.nothing does that, but especially not inebriation.”
“YOU’RE PROBABLY RIGHT, BUT THEN HOW’D HE DO IT? THE CAR WAS STUCK, AND HE MOVED IT.”
Grillbz made a noncommittal noise, quietly thinking that Papyrus’ memory of the events that led to the car getting moved must be hazy. But then what had happened? Papyrus was stronger than Sans, but could he have moved the car? It seemed like too much to think that he’d remember something completely different from what had happened.
“.Papyrus, I’m going to put the car down.move out of the way.”
“OH OK!”
“.farther.get back.that’s good.” He settled the car onto the road with a crunch of loose machinery and stepped back, taking a deep breath and shaking the plasma back into his shoulders. Papyrus winced at the car.
“IT USED TO LOOK BETTER..” He pulled out his phone, which was vibrating madly, and his eyes glowed brighter in recognition. He answered it. “HI SANS! WHAT? YES OF COURSE I’M ALRIGHT. WHAT? SLOW DOWN.”
Grillbz cocked his head. ‘Slow down’ was not usually something that had to be said to Sans.
“YES, THERE WAS A CRAWLER! HOW’D YOU HEAR ABOUT IT? OH YOU HAVE A RADIO! WHAT? ..YES, ANYWAY, I’M FINE—I DON’T KNOW? IT GOT SEAL, BUT MR. GRILLBY PULLED HIM OUT, AND THEN IT GRABBED ONTO HIM AND I HAD TO PULL HIM OUT WITH—SANS?”
There had been an increasing rush of sound from the other end, culminating in a shout that sounded like Gaster. Then Sans’ voice.
“SHUT UP! Sorry. Go on Paps, you’re on speakerphone and there are a bunch of nervous monsters here. We just heard part of the report, and also there’s a delay on what they’re reporting and what’s happened. So what happened?”
“OH!” Papyrus took a deep breath, in his element. Grillbz smiled. Sans must know.
“WELL MR. GRILLBY SAYS THAT HE ATTACKED IT NEAR HIS HOUSE AFTER IT THREW A CAR THROUGH HIS WALL—THAT’S OUR CAR, SANS!—I KNOW, IT’S WEIRD, BUT NEVERMIND ABOUT THAT FOR NOW!”
now it was Sans’ voice shouting from the other end. He stopped himself.
“HE… UM? KILLED PART OF IT. IT SHRANK A BIT, THEN RAN AWAY, AND HE FOLLOWED IT, AND THAT’S WHERE I COME IN! I WAS OUT IN THE MAIN ROAD TALKING TO ARU WHEN THEY SHOWED UP! IT HAD SWALLOWED SEAL AT SOME POINT BEFORE THAT, AND MR. GRILLBY PULLED HIM OUT, AND ARU WENT TO HELP HIM SO I WENT TO CHECK ON MR. GRILLBY BECAUSE HE HADN’T GOTTEN AWAY YET, AND HE’D BEEN CAUGHT BY A TENDRIL, OOOH BUT SANS! SANS GUESS WHAT?”
There was a scatter of noise—“is he OK?” from Sans and “is he alright?” from Gaster, with a faint “is that the fire dude who sells burgers?” followed by a high-pitched tone that Papyrus assumed must be something wrong with the connection.
“YES HE’S FINE, HE’S RIGHT HERE. I TOLD YOU NO ONE WAS HURT. SANS! AND DR. GASTER! I USED BLUE MAGIC TO PULL HIM OUT! AND IT WORKED AND I DID IT! I DON’T KNOW IF I COULD DO IT AGAIN BUT IT WORKED!”
There was a pause, then another burst of noise—Gaster congratulating Papyrus, Sans asking more details, and someone else shouting indistinctly.
“What? Hold on. Paps. It came from Waterfall, right?”
“YES!”
“And it didn’t get through Snowdin.”
“IT DID NOT.”
“Good. Your family should be safe then right?”
“I think so,” said a third voice. Canine, Grillbz thought. He listened to Papyrus rehash the events of the day in spurts of shouting, trying to picture the monsters on the other end. There were at least two voices he didn’t recognize.
“WAIT, YOU DID WHAT?”
“The train hit a Crawler and we had to get out and run.”
“WHAT!”
“So, you’re not the only one who had an exciting day, bro. Yeah, we’re all fine. The Conductor is a little out of it.”
“WHAT HAPPENED!?”
Well, that was new. Grillbz came closer and listened to Sans’ story. It seemed strange that there were two almost consecutive attacks, Grillbz thought. Though not really. It happened sometimes—the things were all over the place. Finally Papyrus hung up, promising to call back later. Just before he did Gaster’s voice came through, attempting to ask something, then was cut off.

Grillbz walked back to the car and looked at it with disapproval.
“WELL I’M GLAD THEY’RE ALL OK,” Said Papyrus, appearing next to him. He was going to persist in walking under the car, wasn’t he. “I’M GLAD SANS AND GASTER AND YORO CAN ALL TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER.” Grillbz thought of something and smiled.
“.how’d you like to ride on top?”
“WHAT?”
“.of the car.you won’t make much different for weight.”
Papyrus’ expression made his answer clear. After some awkwardness and a few scares for Grillbz when he almost lost control of the car and flipped it, he got it back onto his shoulders in a more or less stable position, with Papyrus sitting on top of the cab.
“.alright up there?”
Papyrus cheered.
“THIS IS SO COOL!”
“.glad you’re happy.”
Grillbz resumed his walk with a grunt.

 

A/N: Happy Easter, to those of you who celebrate it!!
(And have a good generic Sunday, the rest of you. Happy non-religion-specific Springtime Fest!)

Oh wow I was actually not expecting to get this many replies on the scent question, thank you! Some of these were really helpful and they were all interesting!

Heh, this one's a bit dialogue heavy, but it's done. Here you go. 

Chapter 35: Experimental Kludgery

In which 
~Summertime~And the livin' is easy~
One would hope. Happy summer holidays to those who have them now or soon! 

Things had been quiet at the lab after that. Dr. Mary had distributed juice packets as they were celebrating the good news from Snowdin, then everyone had drifted away in separate directions. Sans stayed with Yoro and tinkered a bit more with the radio. It was a repurposed human instrument and therefore very interesting. The workings had been kludged together multiple times over the years, probably by different monsters, before it had passed to Yoro. One piece of wire had been stripped, retwisted and covered with electrical tape at one place and soldered at another. It seemed to be holding up fine. Sans left it. Working on it, he felt he was handling a piece of local history. He got it to play a couple of almost uninterrupted songs from a Snowdin radio station before he left: there was a constant rustle of static, but it was working well for the range. By that time it was late.

“Careful of the creepy crawlies,” said Sans. Yoro nodded. The night watchman part of his job was looking a little more worrisome after the events of the day.

Sans didn’t feel like sleeping yet, but he did feel lethargic and floppy, which was probably why he stood directly in front of the elevator doors, staring at the crack, and why when the crack widened and he found himself looking at Gaster’s waist, he didn’t move. Gaster, however, was already on his way into the elevator. His knee caught Sans under the chin. The next several seconds were very confused for Sans, who knew that they’d tumbled over into the elevator and Gaster had started sputtering apologies, but couldn’t make sense of a warm soft weight which had fallen across his face and attached itself there or the thuds of many small heavy objects falling onto the floor.
“Cat?” said Sans, reaching for the warm object. It was Psammites. He did not want to be moved.
“Sosorryaghareyoualright?” said Gaster for the fifth time. The weight was lifted. Sans, blinking, saw Psammites disappear under the hem of Gaster’s shirt.
“I.. yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Sans stood up.
“Are you sure?—“
“It’s fine, it was just a bump.” He looked down. Gaster had spilled a box of tools into the elevator. “What’s all this?”
“Oh! Ah, I was going to go down and work on the elevator’s engine, I don’t like the way it sounds. Would you like to come?”
“I… sure. I wasn’t going to sleep anyway.”
“Oh! No, you’re right, you should go get some sleep.”
“I wouldn’t sleep anyway, I’d just lay there staring at the ceiling and waiting impatiently for the heat death of the universe.”
“Oh alright, you should come then. It’ll be fun.”
Dr. Gaster + tinkering with an object that needed to be functional when they finished with it + “It’ll be fun” = ???? Doubtful. Sans, who was very casual about danger and very quick to give in to curiosity (when not first overwhelmed with apathy), decided to go.

Gaster scrabbled with several keys at the door to the machine room but finally managed to let himself and Sans in.  It was a very small room, hot, containing the workings for the elevator. Gaster immediately went down on his knees and pried the cover off the engine, muttering about the size. When it was off he flung up his arms in disgust.
“Aaaaaagh! Look at that!”
Sans came and peered under his arm.
“What? I mean, it doesn’t look very well put together—“
“Yes good job Sans, no it does not, not at all! It could be half this size and much more efficient if it hadn’t been created by someone who lacks a commonsense knowledge of geometry!” He craned around the engine. “How does this work? I need to see it work.”
“Want me to go take a trip?”
“That would be very helpful.”
Sans got in the elevator and pressed all the buttons. The elevator started up. There was a muffled sound of the engine rattling, especially loudly now that the cover was off and the machine room door was open, and of Gaster swearing at almost the same volume. Sans snorted.
The elevator stopped on the residential floor and the doors drifted open. The Kodama was standing in the hall directly in front of him, facing him. They stared at each other without speaking. The doors re-closed. Sans felt himself traveling upwards. He thought he heard a faint expletive through the floor, but he couldn’t be sure.
The elevator stopped on the lab floor, which appeared abandoned, but as the doors started to open he heard a crash from somewhere nearby, followed by a female voice saying “Aaaaaaghhh.”
“Dr. Mary?” there was some rustling and clinking. The doors started to close again. “Heya it’s Sans, just helping Dr. Gaster with the elevator sorry to both you are you alright? I’ll be going now if you don’t need help.”
“No thanks!” got through the doors just before they closed. He drifted back down.
To his surprise, he stopped, again, on the residential floor. The doors opened. He was now eye to eye with the Kodama. This appeared to make them uncomfortable. The two of them stared at each other without blinking for several moments. The awkward intensity of the moment started to get to Sans. He was going to burst out laughing, or run out of the elevator and hide in a shower stall, or something. But then the doors started to close, and in the same moment it occurred to him that the Kodama probably wanted to get onto the elevator but didn’t want to invade his personal space and couldn’t quite manage asking him to move.
“Oh uh hey did—you—I uh, sorry?” Sans scooted back and to the side, and the Kodama began stammering,
“O-oh, no no that’s fine I no, I mean I no’d, I’d, I’d didn’t is what I was—ah—help.” The doors drifted together in front of his increasingly pained expression and Sans felt himself dropping. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He caught the tail end of a shouted Gasterly tirade in a language he didn’t recognize, followed by a metallic whacking from the machine room. He went to the door curiously and found Gaster arched over the engine, eyes narrowed.
“Ah there you are. Thank you, that was enlightening.” He kicked the engine with another whack.
“That’s going to fix it, eh?”
“No. Nothing is going to fix this! It’s a wreck! It’s barely on the functional side of physics! It’s going to tear itself apart in a week!”
“Is it that bad?” Sans came and peered through the engine. “Huh. I can see why you’re getting fired up about this, it is a little shocking how badly constructed this thing is, despite the involved engine-neering.”
“Precisely,” said Gaster without skipping a beat. “It’s like they knew how engines worked but weren’t even trying.” He kicked it again for good measure. “Bring me that box. ” He trailed off into incomprehensible muttering. Sans walked over to the box of tools, which remained sitting where Gaster had dropped it in the storage room. Gaster must be stronger than he looked, Sans thought. He seized two edges of the box, strained, gave up with a grunt and resorted to dragging it along the floor. There was a clatter of discombobulated movement and looking up he found Gaster in the doorway, mouth open.
“Wait a moment, that was a pun. Two puns. Three puns?”
“Yeah.” Grunted Sans, dragging the box another half-inch across the floor.
“How long have you been doing this? The whole time?”
“Eh, I try to sneak ‘em in whenever I can. Y’know, it’s fun when they’re punexpected.”
“Ha!” Gaster, noticing his difficulty, started forwards and Sans seized the box with his magic.
“Nah I’m good.” He spun it across to the doorway and dropped it on Gaster’s foot. Gaster gasped. Sans grabbed the box and moved it. “Whoops, sorry.”
“What?”
“Sorry. About your foot. I’m still not great with this telekinesis thing, it showed up late.”
“Sans.”
“Yeah?”
“Try to pick up that box again.”
“You really like to see me struggle, huh? Sure.” Sans walked to the box and hauled at it. It ground an almost imperceptible distance towards him over the floor.
“Alright, don’t hurt yourself. Now use your magic to lift it.” Sans stepped back, shook his hands out, wrapped the box in blue and floated it at chest height. Which was somewhere around Gaster’s knees. Gaster crouched down to stare at it.
“Interesting. Very interesting.”
“What, exactly? And can I put this down now?”
“What? Oh, certainly. It’s just that the strength of a monster’s magic is usually roughly equal to their physical strength, and there seems to be a significant difference here.”
“Oh yeah?” he’d noticed. “Huh.”
“I wonder if it’s reflecting your potential physical strength instead of your actual strength, which is constrained by your low tensile strength… That sounds like a theory. Actually, that sounds like not my business. Forgive me, this is just fascinating.”
“For you and me both. I dunno. I’ve got other things to—oh, here we go—worry about…” Sans paused, holding up a hand. Gaster looked curiously at him. Sans snapped his fingers and continued waiting. “Uhh. You know how you feel like you’re going to sneeze and then you don’t sneeze and you’re just standing there feeling uncomfortable and waiting and it just doesn’t—“ his magic flared with an audible snap. “Ah there we go. That. There’s also that.” Gaster’s eye widened.
“Oh. Well that’s something. Does it hurt?”
“Nah. Bit awkward when it happens in the middle of a conversation, that’s all.”
“Does Mary know about this?”
“Heh, yeah, it happened during my checkup. Startled her pretty good. She made me check up with my home doctor, he says it’s probably just something to do with my magic developing. I’m just hoping it goes away soon.”
“Hm. That makes sense. Well, get lots of sleep, don’t strain yourself.” Sans laughed. “What? That’s important. Magic is a part of your being as much as your eyes and hands.”
“Yeah. I know.” Sans walked over to the bared engine. “So whaddya gonna do with it?” Gaster started talking and didn’t stop. “So you’re going to rip it up and rebuild it.” Gaster paused and blinked.
“That’s… yes, basically. Actually yes, you’re right. Oh, good point, that will take a while. You should go up before I start attacking it.”
“Actually, I’d like to stay and help.”
“Oh. Thank you..” Sans could see Gaster trying to gauge how much of a hindrance he might be.
“I’ve fixed the generators in Snowdin. Anyway, I could just hand you stuff, really I just wanna see what you do.”
“Oh.” Gaster was flattered. He scrambled for words. “Alright, thank you, I’ll probably get out of here sooner if I have help.”

 

A/N

I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE

Sorry. Life happened. But now once again I have free time and am engaging Convenient Alias in a Summer Wordcount War, so the updates should start piling up.

Over on DeviantArt, Goshawk-Gyrefalcon made contrasting pictures of Gaster and Suger which are super insightful and epic and also a smol Hass Avocado.

OK, ELEVATOR DOORS. They have automatic elevator doors in the Underground, but the doors don’t stop if there’s something in the way, so they’re sort of terrifying beasts that you have to nip out of the way of quickly. Logic: someone saw automatic elevator doors in a human movie and was “hot damn this is my jam” and proceeded to engineer them into their somewhat rudimentary lift technology. And it worked. Except for one thing. They don’t yet have motion sensing technology. So the doors just. Close. On whatever’s in the way. Regardless of whether the Kodama has made up their mind or not.

Update on the commission chosen forever ago by procrastinatingbookworm. I managed, at last, to contact Usagi, who was supposed to do the contest commission the first time, and figured out why they hadn’t been responding—they were in a car accident, in the hospital, just got back online and they’re still not up to drawing things. I contacted another artist. They said sure I’m doing commissions hit me up. I sent them my request. They went silent. I waited a bit and asked if they’d accepted the commission or not. Silence.
……*deep sigh.*  

Chapter 36: Snowshield

In which I'M BAAAAAACK seriously you can't know how good this feels I HAVE BEEN UNABLE TO WRITE FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE SOOO LONG

The car buckled, then settled into the snow with a crunch and a hiss. Papyrus was momentarily blinded by a cloud of steam. When it cleared he saw Grillbz flopped across the car hood.
“ARE YOU OK?”
“.zngndsfsdfs.” he rolled over, stretching his arms. “.yes.this is where you wanted it?because I’m not moving it.”
“YES! THIS IS EXCELLENT! THANK YOU!”
Papyrus, still on the car roof, stood up and looked around. The car was slumped sadly at the side of the not-often-used road leading out of Snowdin, in a clear space where the trees didn’t press in as close. The snow gleamed softly. Papyrus turned in a circle twice, taking it all in. Grillbz watched him. Papyrus couldn’t tell through the flames, which had regained much of their usual brightness, whether he was smiling.
Papyrus sat.
“.you’re going to stay here?”
“FOR A BIT. I’LL GUARD THE ROAD!”
“.guard it well.”
“ARE YOU GOING?”
“.not just yet.what are your plans for fixing it?”
“OH. I’M NOT SURE YET, I’LL HAVE TO LOOK AT IT TOMORROW. I’M SURE I’LL FIGURE IT OUT! MACHINES USED TO SCARE ME, BUT SANS TOLD ME THEY WERE JUST LIKE PUZZLES, AND HE’S RIGHT! SOONER OR LATER EVERYTHING MAKES SENSE. HE HAS A BUNCH OF HUMAN BOOKS ABOUT CARS, I CAN LOOK AT THEM FOR HELP.”
“.what about the axle?”
“OH. I DON’T KNOW? MAYBE I’LL FIND SOMETHING I CAN REPLACE IT WITH IN THE DUMP.”
“.can you weld?”
“NO.”
“.I can.”
Papyrus leapt up and stood on the roof of the car.
“ARE YOU OFFERING TO HELP ME? PLEASE DO! IT’LL BE EXCITING!”
“.alright.you may have noticed that I do not have many hobbies at the moment.but you’ll have to do something crazy with it when we finish.drive it off a ramp.”
Papyrus’ face lit up, and Grillbz realized that he’d made a terrible mistake. Papyrus was really going to do it.
“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA! WE CAN BUILD AN ICE RAMP RIGHT DOWN THERE!” Papyrus, still poised upon the car roof, pointed with his entire arm down the road.
“.ice ramps.” Better and better. For some reason Grillbz was more amused than concerned. “.then it’s settled.” He folded his arms behind his head. A snowflake drifted down, and he frowned.
“YES! AND SANS CAN HELP US, WHEN HE COMES BACK! WELL, WE’LL SEE HOW FAR WE CAN GET WITHOUT HIS HELP. OH! WOULD DR. GASTER WANT TO HELP? YOU’RE HIS FRIEND, RIGHT?”
Grillbz made a spitting sound. Snowflakes were falling heavily now, slanting down from some crevice in the cave roof far above, but none of them touched the car. It was surrounded in a faintly glowing shield. Papyrus sat back down and noticed that the car roof was pleasantly warm and dry.
“.I am his friend.and I’m a bit pissed at him at the moment.”
“OH ARE YOU? WHAT DID HE DO? I THOUGHT HE JUST GOT BACK.”
“.yes.”
Papyrus squinted at him.
“.alright, here’s a similar story.you know how Sans sometimes wanders out into the woods without telling you?and sometimes isn’t back for hours, and you get worried?”
“OH YES, I HATE IT WHEN HE DOES IT!”
“.imagine one day he did that—just disappeared, no note, nothing.except, he didn’t come back in a few hours.he didn’t show up for dinner.he didn’t come back during the night.the next day, you searched for him.the day after, the entire village of Snowdin was searching.you found nothing.”
“I WOULD BE TERRIFIED.”
“.yes.imagine he was gone for a long time.several months.” It was a relatively short time span, but Papyrus looked fittingly horrified. “.then, one day…you get up and find him in the kitchen, eating breakfast, as if nothing happened.what do you think you’d do?”
“SMOTHER HIM WITH MY AFFECTION! AND THEN SHOUT AT HIM! AND PROBABLY CRY. AND THEN MORE SHOUTING!”
“.yes, exactly.you’d be relieved, then angry.”
“OH! SO, YOU WERE WORRIED ABOUT HIM WHEN HE WASN’T AROUND? WAIT, HE NEVER CONTACTED YOU? THAT’S NOT NICE! WHERE WAS HE, ANYWAY?”
“.that’s a good question.a long time ago, he was living in New Home, but he left suddenly.I thought he’d just forgotten to mention to me where he was going, so I asked around, but nobody knew.we spent years searching—and it wasn’t just me, he had other friends then too.friends who died not knowing what had happened to him.for a while I heard that he’d been seen here and there around Waterfall, then for a long time I heard nothing.I decided he was dead.then he reappeared, just as abruptly as he’d disappeared.on the one hand, I was happy to find him alive.on the other hand, if he wasn’t dead, then where was he for all that time, and why didn’t he drop me a line?or, if not me, any of the other friends who were worrying about him, particularly the ones with short lifespans?” Grillbz was frowning deeply now. “as you said, at first I was just glad to see him alive.but the longer I think about it the more confused and angry I am.it doesn’t help that he’s never here for longer than two seconds.he might at least offer an explanation.”
“YEAH. WELL, HE’S BEEN BUSY. GEEZ, THAT’S SAD. YOU NEED TO ASK HIM ABOUT IT! I’M SURE THERE WAS SOME SORT OF MISUNDERSTANDING.”
“.yes, that much is clear,” growled Grillbz, unfolding his arms and crossing them on his chest.
None of this made sense. The first visit made sense, he’d encouraged Gaster to go search for Sans, and then hadn’t managed to see him again before he left. (Disappeared, again.) And then he’d reappeared in desperate need of healing and gotten deliriously drunk from a sip of White Russian. The angry part of Grillbz argued that he’d only come because he needed to be healed and knew Grillbz couldn’t turn him away, but the rest of him remembered how lacking in guile Gaster was—unless he’d changed that much in the time in between, he’d been telling the truth: he fell (was thrown) out a window, conked his head on the pavement, forgot how to make good decisions, and wandered halfway across the Underground to say hi because the thought came into his head.
And that made even less sense.
…In which case, concerning Gaster, it was probably the more accurate version.
The snowfall wasn’t petering out, it was growing thicker. Grillbz sat up with a grunt, looking up at his shield, then at Papyrus.
“.enough about Gaster.what was Sans saying?”
“OH! THERE’S A WOLF THERE THAT’S FROM NEAR HERE, THEY’RE FRIENDS ALREADY, IT’S SO GREAT! AND HE HAS A RADIO—OH, THEY WERE WORRIED ABOUT US, THEY HEARD ABOUT THE CRAWLER. BUT THAT’S ALL. I WASN’T TALKING LONG. I SHOULD CALL HIM BACK! WAIT, WHAT TIME IS IT? OH MY GOODNESS! NO, I SHOULD NOT! IF HE’S NOT SLEEPING BY NOW THEN HE SHOULD BE.”
“.agreed.”
“YOU SLEEP, RIGHT?”
“.I think all monsters sleep.I’ve never known one to avoid it entirely.”
“RIGHT. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT YOUR WALL?”
“.talk to it.”
“…TALK TO IT? I MEAN, WHAT ABOUT THE HOLE?”
“.I don’t mind sleeping outdoors.” The Underground barely counted, anyway. Although drafts were annoying. “.I built the house myself.I’ll be able to fix it.don’t worry, Papyrus.you should get some sleep yourself before morning.”
“YEAH… YOU’RE RIGHT. I NEED TO BE WELL RESTED FOR SENTRY DUTY TOMORROW! WE NEED TO KEEP UP OUR DEFENSES!” He left the car roof with an enormous spring and landed in the middle of the road with an audible clack of jarred bones. Grillbz stood, let his shield shrink to just a heat barrier above his head, and leapt after him, landing heavily just behind him. They began walking back into Snowdin.
“OH, AND THANKS THE STORY!”
“.story?”
“THE, THE EXAMPLE YOU USED TO EXPLAIN. IT WAS VERY HELPFUL! I SHOULD REMEMBER THAT!”
“.it’s an old technique.have you read the Dialogues?”
“…NO? WHICH ONES?”
Grillbz found himself torn between a desire to see Papyrus struggle with Plato and a desire to spare him the confusion he knew would result.
“WHAT DIALOGUES??”
“.Plato.it’s just some human thing.you did well today.you should practice that attack, you could be quite good at it.”
“THANK YOU! I WILL!”
Papyrus gave an excited bob. Grillbz smiled.

Alphys was brushing her teeth when she heard a muffled scream, followed by the sound of the elevator doors opening. Lips covered in foam, she scurried into the hall and found Sans sitting on the floor inside the elevator with blank eyesockets.
“Thanth?” she sputtered around the toothpaste.
“It works,” said Sans faintly. The doors slammed shut and he disappeared with another muffled scream. Alphys frowned at an unfamiliar whooshing sound, like something dropping down very fast. But that couldn’t be the elevator, right? It was way slower. She walked to the elevator doors and pressed the side of her face against them. Far away, she thought she could hear the doors opening, then the sound of Gaster shouting I HAVE MADE BAD DECISIONS!
Oh.
She smiled.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was a bad idea?!”
“I dunno Dr. Gaster, you’re smart, you made it sound like a good idea.”
“Gaster, please! You don’t ‘Doctor’ someone who just blasted you into the ionosphere testing an elevator! What am I doing with my life?!”
“Improving things. Occasionally in unrealistic ways.”
“Ughhh. That’s not wrong.”
Sans sat down and watched Gaster un-fix what he’d fixed, swearing in a constant stream under his breath.
“Doctor Ga—uh, Doc? Can I call you Doc?”
“Yes!”
“Yoro and I tried talking to the Kodama. What’s his name, again?”
“Uh… you know, I don’t remember.”
“Yeah. I asked him three times and he just kept mumbling it. I still don’t know what it is. Anyway, he says you had a bow before, and Yoro and I disagreed because we’d seen you with a sword. Did you have a bow?”
“Yeah. Uh… Oh no, what did I do? Aaaagh!”
“Oh. Whoops, he was right then. He got really confused.”
“It is possible to have more than one weapon construct.”
“Yeah, I know. Papyrus wants to have a whole arsenal.”
“Does he?” Gaster chuckled. “That fits him. It’s not easy, though.”
“I know. He wants to make a sword but he’s still kinda struggling. How’d you get two?”
“Compulsively. I was living alone, I got bored. The sword and shillelagh I feel most comfortable with, the bow is hard to maintain.”
“Wait, you have more? And what is a.. shilly-lally whatever you said thing?”
“Oh. A small club. I used to have a real one, but wood is scarce down here. Same with the scythe, it’s a copy of one that my father designed.”
“Wait hold on, that’s four.”
Gaster sat back with a sigh, sticking and unsticking his sealant-smudged fingertips.
“I was very bored. Actually, to be more accurate, it helped me order my thoughts. Each weapon is unique and takes a great deal of focus. I have particular thoughts associated with each one. Is that odd? That’s odd. Ah well, it helped at the time.” He looked at Sans. “…You want to see them, don’t you.”
Sans grinned a bit wider in affirmation. Gaster sighed and stood.
“Alright.” He took a deep breath and, to Sans’ surprise, began to sing a short lilting melody, tracing out arcs in the air. It took perhaps ten seconds to make a recognizable bow, then it quickly solidified and he pulled the arrow back and posed for a moment before letting them disappear.
“That’s the most complicated, and I have to maintain the arrow while it flies or it won’t cause damage. It’s a pain. But useful.”
He paused, took a deep breath, and hummed something deeper and simpler, heavy-sounding. Almost immediately a purple stick appeared and he thrashed it back and forth in front of him.
“That’s the shillelagh.” He looked fondly at it before letting it disappear. “Much the simplest, and the one I have the most experience with.”
He closed his eyes, then hummed a different tune, measured and melodic. Sharp lines traced through the air and he gripped a sword hilt. Indigo cutting magic ignited around the edges. He ended on a low E, the sword resonating in harmony.
“And this is just a large broadsword. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”
He let the sword fade.
And waited.
There was a long pause. Then he looked up at Sans.
“Is that enough for now? I don’t feel like creating the scythe.”
“Sure! That’s real impressive, doc, thanks for the show.”
“Tell Papyrus to keep practicing, but not to feel disappointed if it’s not easy. I couldn’t do this for years. Oh! Have you tried my gravity control attack?”
“Nah, not yet.”
“You should. Papyrus has certainly picked it up quickly, perhaps you will too. Try it on me, it’s your turn to show off.”
“Heh. Don’t hold your breath, but I’ll try.”
Sans stood up. Gaster towered over him expectantly. Sans thought about gravity, a force exerted by and on all objects, and about souls, and about the heavy feeling his soul could have, and didn’t really expect it to work, but stretched out and—
Dr. Gaster collapsed on his face.
“Heyyy! …uh.”
He wasn’t moving.
“Doc? Oh geez.” Sans rolled him over and he wheezed and pushed himself up on his elbows.
“I’m..fine.”
His eyelights had gone out completely.
“No, you’re not. We should—uh, is the elevator functional?” Gaster glanced at the engine.
“Nearly.”
“Uh. OK, so. I’ll finish up, you tell me what to do.” Gaster nodded and Sans dragged him over to the engine.
“Hey,” said Gaster. “Good job.”
“That was me?”
“Hh—the fall was you, not being able to catch my breath is all me. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
Sans looked doubtfully at him, and he smiled. He did look a little better.
“This is the second time I’ve accidentally almost killed you. I’m never practicing magic around you again.”
“Praciticing magic,” wheezed Gaster reflectively, then struggled to a sitting position. “Sans!”
“No. Tell me if I’m doing this right.”
“We should train together!”
“No.”

 

A/N: Yea two glass cannons firing at each other is a great idea

LOOK AT THIS AMAZING FANART OF CORE GASTER Aaaaaaa

I’ve re-edited Chapter 1. I’ve been considering doing that for a while, but finally got around to it. I have a much better grasp of what makes these particular characters tick now than when I did when I wrote the first chapter. Changelog:

-the first few and last few paragraphs are basically the same, with some minor edits on wording: ex. Alphys is Dr. Gaster’s personal assistant, not lab assistant.

-Sans summons his first blaster by accident, and not purely because he’s an asshole.

-When I wrote the first chapter I had an idea of a slightly different Gaster. He had a completely different skillset which involved being low-level psychic, and he was going to be painfully shy. I think the change should be obvious to you who have read this far. So I tweaked a lot of the wording to make him be less rattled by Sans and more by things in general.

-I also changed a couple of lines in Chapter 2 because, as mentioned above, Gaster’s not psychic. Let’s pretend that never happened, shall we? Heheh….heh.

AND ALSO. ANOTHER THING. ADDITIONALLY. BEHOLD! I HAVE A CHALLENGE FOR YOU.

There’s an AU. An AU in which AmberTale’s extremely chill Grillbz has literally no chill. An AU in which he’s currently being tried for mass murder. It is a dark and awful AU and I love it. 
Almost the entire population of the monsters is at the trial to make their voices heard. You should speak up too.
I’ve asked for people to comment, either here or on Tumblr, their views on/arguments for the trial, and I’m going to include them in the next chapter, which will be the continuation of the trial. But almost no one has commented on Zero so far and I’m hoping I’ll have enough, so if any of you feel like reading the chapter and saying a thing I’d be really happy. Thank you!

In case you wanted to know, the song for the bow is a Kyrie, the shillelagh is the low harmony part for Stella Splendens, the sword is Ye Sons of Men with Me Rejoice (my favorite version, by Noirin Ni Riain, isn’t on the interwebs that I can find sadly) and the scythe is silence.

Oh hey, Stella Splendens is the universal parallel to Zero’s The Rosemary Tree. Just gonna throw that out there. And unlike The Rosemary Tree, Stella Splendens is an actual song with recordings you can listen to.

Chapter 37: Soul Skips

In which everyone has an agenda.

Leaves. Golden. Amber. Golden. Blaze of orange. Downslope, a patch of incandescent yellow. Wind.

..He was in an elevator, and it was rising, slowly. Sans was saying something about his mechanical skills. Gaster understood the gist of it—the elevator was working—without absorbing the words.

One of the children threw leaves into the air. They floated slowly down, some drifting on the air like tiny gliders, some twisting over and over and over. He was mesmerized by the interplay of light and shadow.

Alphys. Alphys was there now, standing with her tail tucked around her feet.
“—did y-you increase the, the elevator engine’s RPM for no reason? A-and then bring it back to normal?”
“Regrettably,” Gaster heard his own voice saying, and it startled him. “You should have been there to stop me. I didn’t realize you were awake still.”
Alphys looked strangely at him.
“Are you alright?” she said.
Of course he was alright.
What were the correct words for transmitting that sentiment?
“He just fainted,” said Sans. “Where’s Dr. Mary?”
“He—he wha-at? What did you do to him?”
Nothing. Say it. Say ‘nothing, Alphys, I was being stupid.’
Words. Nothing.

The human child raised the monster child from the leaves and he strained to see their face. He could see the monster child: radiant, soft, black-tipped floppy ears, but the human’s face was turned away. He tried to recreate the memory, but it was in shadow.

“Gaster?”
….
That was Alphys. She looked worried.
“What? I’m perfectly fine.”
“What did I just ask you, then?”
“…Alright, I’m… seventy-five-percent fine.”
Alphys and Sans exchanged a look.
“I dunno, think it’s safe to let him go to sleep like this?” said Sans. Alphys gave a nervous shrug. “Well, which room is Dr. Mary's? Wait up, I think she was still upstairs when I was testing the elevator the first time. Think she’s still up there?”
“Uh… I-I haven’t heard anyone come down? Why would she still be up?”
“I dunno, maybe still unpacking supplies? Maybe she wants to have everything ready in case someone immediately gets a bad lava burn first thing in the morning.”

Sunlight flickering in patches of shaded gold as the wind moved the leaves above.

“…we’re going up now Dr. Gaster,” said Sans, nudging him back into the elevator.
Gaster carefully did not cry.
Sunlight.
He would never see that again. 
What was wrong with him?! 

He was startled back into the present when the doors slid open and to display Mary right in front of them with her arms full of boxes. She yelped and one slid to the floor with a crack of jostled glass. She scurried to gather it up, brushing Sans away when he tried to help.

Distraction, confused lines, all tangled up. A snatch of song. He reached for it, it faded away. What was that tune? He couldn’t recall. Why did he feel so lost?

He was sitting on a cot in a brightly lit room while Mary took his pulse.
“What did you do?”
“Me?” he said.
“Yes, you.”
“Fooled around with my weapon constructs unnecessarily. I was already a bit tired, I must have overtaxed myself.”
“Does your chest hurt?”
“Hm? A bit.”
“You didn’t find that concerning?”
“A lot of things hurt. I mean, I probably just thought it was the collarbone.”
“You’ve had a soul flicker.”
“Really?”
“You knew this was possible, yes?”
“For me?”
“Ooooooh God.” Mary slowly rubbed her face through her paws.
“I mean. Of course for me. I mean yes?”
“I signed up for this? Why did I sign up for this?”
“Am I a bit of a handful?” said Gaster, smiling. Mary pulled her face free of her paws, momentarily stretching out her cheeks.
“Two handfuls, but it’s worth it to keep you alive. Lie down.” Gaster hopped down to the floor and lay on his back. “I’m keeping you here the night.”
“Am I OK?”
“Should be. It’s just a precaution.”
“OK. Hey, I don’t have to worry about forgetting our appointment now.”
“One would hope.” She rummaged through some drawers, then noticed that Sans and Alphys were still there. “He’s fine, really. He just needs to rest. And not do stupid things.” She gave Gaster a Look.
“Oh yeah about that, I had something I mean to ask you,” he said.
“The answer is probably no,” said Mary.
“I was thinking of sparring—“
“No.”
“With Sans.”
“No.”
“To help him develop his magic.”
“Triple no.”
“Yeah that’s what I said,” said Sans. “Uh, didn’t seem like a good idea.”
“Sans. You too?”
“It really doesn’t seem like a good idea to me! No offense, it’d be great and that’s very kind of you but no. At least one of us would faint. I don’t want to be either the one who gets brought in on a stretcher or the one who feels guilty about pushing the other one too hard.”
“Maybe if you’re worried about us fainting we should both get some exercise,” observed Gaster.
“Excellent idea!” said Mary. “Exercise. Not sparring. Just some gentle jogging or step aerobics. Start slow. I’ll coach you.”
“No, that’s…. boring.”
“Do you wanna live?”
“Yes.”
“Please start listening to me.”
“I listen to you, Mary, and I kindly reject your helpful and probably very insightful suggestions.”
“Take this.” She handed him a pill and a paper cup of water. He sat up to take them.

Now.

It’s late, everyone is asleep. You’re asleep, almost.

Do you still want to cry about sunlight on amber leaves?

Yes, he did.

You don’t know anything for certain. You don’t even know if that’s a real memory. It may have been only a dream. Surely you dreamed while you were in that state?

He wasn’t sure. But in any case, the scene on the hilltop had come to symbolize everything he feared losing.

They weren’t going to get up on the hilltop by murdering children.

The children on the hilltop were happy and free, as children should be. They seemed infinitely far away. From another time. The wrong time. Lost forever, now that he was tied down.

For a moment, he strongly wanted to leave, disappear, melt into nothing. A strange blend of homesickness and love ached deep inside him.

That’s despair, isn’t it? Stop thinking about the sunlight on the hill and get to work. You belong here.

Now go to sleep, he told himself.

He slept, and then it was morning. He was alive. His mind had settled into a workable pattern, activity hanging along strands that ran parallel and did not tangle. He could think clearly in multiple directions at once. His chest ached only very dully. Pain levels everywhere else were about normal. He sat up carefully, stretching his arms and adjusting his jacket. He felt a bit weak, but no more than he sometimes did just after getting up. Of course, it didn’t go away immediately, but he trusted that it would in time. He’d be alright.

He had a speech to memorize. 

Mary, who had been dozing in her chair in her office when he last saw her, had found it too uncomfortable some time during the night and moved onto the cot. He woke her and asked if the coffeepot sitting on the counter was functional.
“It better be,” she said. 

 

A/N: I’M NOT DEAD
HI
SORRY ABOUT THAT
HEY
IS THERE LIKE
 IS THERE EVEN ANYONE STILL HERE
 *screams into void* HELLOOOOOOOO

Anyways, this is shortish but this seemed like a natural stopping point and I’m just glad that it’s done so it’s going up immediately! 

Also, soul flickers. Kinda like a heart attack but not. 

Yeah sorry about that. I just. I just didn’t. I didn’t have a good time with writing. For a long time. But while I was struggling to throw off the writer’s block I wrote a longish oneshot about Gaster and Grillbz’ history (it’s like, 100% depression/apocalyptic angst sooo) called An Element of Blank, also two flashfics for visual artists’ Gasters, So Far (badster mad science-ster) and Night Watch (dadster.) I also had a low-grade-fever-induced stress dream that suggested a dystopian Sansby fic, which I, against my usual tendencies to not write ships at all basically, started serializing and posting on Tumblr. So yeah, that’s there. Go on my page and look for ‘Dystopian Sansby Dream AU’ or ‘Crisco 129’ if you want to see it. It’s very different from my normal stuff and kinda sloppy cuz I was really just doing it to be writing -something- while I tried to get back into the swing of things, but if you happen to like both dystopian things and Sansby… or if you just like reading things inspired by other people’s fever dreams…

Also, more great art from Goshawk-Gyrfalcon!!

CORE doodles 

Gaster and Grillbz

NOW LET'S SEE IF I CAN ACTUALLY KEEP WRITING THIS TIME 

I HAVE PLANS I SWEAR I JUST

I JUST NEED TO ACTUALLY IMPLEMENT THEM I

I CAN’T WRITE WHEN I CAN’T WRITE AND IT’S NOT FUN ASDKFLWEJKJSDFJSLAJD

Chapter 38: Little Talks

In which Psammy gets a pillow fort.

Psammites was hungry. He walked back and forth across Gaster’s lap, making short high kittenish cries. Gaster was slowly drinking a cup of coffee while Mary filled in a sheet of paper.
“Are you done?” he asked when he noticed that she hadn’t written anything down for a while. Silently she flipped the clipboard over and showed it to him. It was a chart of a humanoid form, labeled Gaster (Consolas) and heavily marked and annotated.
“That’s a lot of ink,” said Gaster, since she seemed to be waiting for him to say something.
“Thank you for that concession,” she said, lowering the clipboard. “I was beginning to be concerned about your mental state.”
Gaster laughed uncomfortably.
“How so?”
“Your reaction so far to injuries isn’t normal. Is your pain level so high that injuries just don’t register?”
“No no it’s not quite that bad, thank God. Haha, I might just die.”
“Then what’s wrong with you?”
“….It’s… partly that, but not really?”
“Take your time, I just want to understand.” She sat on the counter and crossed her legs.
“It’s distracting. Chronic pain is distracting. So I just… learned to tune it out?”
(His awareness of pain was confined to its own strand, on the very lowermost rung of his consciousness. He was aware of it as a distant, pesky buzz.)
“Which works quite well I think, actually. I was rather proud of myself after I got the hang of it. Um. But apparently I do it too much and tune out new pain as well as chronic pain.” 
“Hmm. I admire your detachment but it’s not safe to ignore symptoms, which generally exist to let you know that there’s a problem.”
Gaster nodded, vaguely wanting to argue this but realizing that it was true.
“Yeah that’s a bit of a problem.”
“All your old wounds look more or less stable. Don’t overwork yourself, and do try to get some gentle exercise. I still think you should get a splint on that collarbone and take painkillers in the meantime. I have a good supply, and I hope we won’t need them for anything else, besides the occasional headache.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Will you really think about it or do you just want me to stop talking?”
“I’ll really think about it. I’ve already thought about materials. For the splint. Iron is too reactive to magic, gold is too soft, and silver would burn right through and make the problem worse than it is.”
“I think hardened gold is usually used. Although, you have a point, it might not be best for a splint this large.”
“Also it’s hard to get.”
“Also that.”
“I’ve been hoping to get my hands on some titanium, it sounds wonderful and I’d love to tests its magic reactivity. But I don’t think we have any ore down here and there isn’t exactly a lot washing down with the trash.”
“Do you have any ideas, then?”
“Maybe. Wood might work, actually. It doesn’t react with biological magic and has a high tensile strength, like bone, but you have to carve it carefully and it would probably end up being very clunky. And you’d still need to use pins of some sort of metal, I think. Not worth it. One thing I’m very interested in is scael. It’s an alloy the Temmies make and use for armor and tools.”
“Temmies make armor? For what?”
“Why does anyone make armor?”
“True.”
Mary poured herself another cup of coffee and downed half of it, then looked appraisingly at Gaster and Psammites. She placed the clipboard to the side.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked. “Or did you lie about how good you were feeling?”
“Iiiii have to come up with a speech.”
“For what?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“We might have a Crawler problem.”
“And you just found this out how?”
“I was apparently supposed to know already, but I didn’t. I’m pretty sure Suger was messing with me. But it’s still my bad.” He sighed and ruffled Psammites’ fur. “I’m not sure I can deal with being responsible for the wellbeing of twenty-two people.”
“Me neither,” said Mary, smiling. “Now, what? I don’t understand what happened.”
Gaster ramblingly and resentfully told her about the email fiasco.
“And I am angry,” he concluded. “And also confused. Mostly angry.”
He held Psammites to his face, gently, because of his old bones. 
“That’s a very chill angry,” said Mary. “You’re right, you need to tell everyone today.”
“Mmhmm. And in a way that makes more sense than how I just told you. I also need to avoid breaking off into swearing at Suger because that’s not professional dammit and I am better than that. Even though he oh there I go. I hate this.”
“Can I give everyone a quick talk on safety measures? I could go first if you don’t want to start.”
“That… is very kind of you. I should probably go first.” He would have liked to let her go first, but that was cowardice and would only delay the inevitable for a few moments. Also it was only logical for him to explain why they needed to review safety measures before she did it.
He just had to force his words together in a few lines which made sense. How hard could… no, he wasn’t going to jinx himself. He’d forgotten how to say one- or two-syllable words too many times.

He fed Psammites in his room and upended a box full of pillows and blankets for him to sleep in, then went to brush his teeth. Sans was sitting in the sink. Gaster stared at him in confusion.
“Do you need a stool?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
The Kodama was at the next sink and appeared to be doing fine, although his chin was within a few inches of the rim. He was about Sans’ height, right? ….Whatever, don’t question it.
Gaster knelt down and folded his legs under the sink, then shuffled around trying to find a comfortable position. He noticed that the Kodama had stopped brushing his teeth and was staring at him sideways without turning his head.
Gaster, still attempting to fold himself around the sink, considered making accordion noises, but realized that if he started laughing in this nervous state he wouldn’t be able to stop.
What if I attached an accordion to my spine so that every time I had do the limbo dance to get through a doorway it played weird music.
He masked his giggling with brisk teeth-brushing. Be serious, you fool. Serious.

Alphys was still groggily clinging to her heat rock. She answered the door after Gaster had knocked twice.
“Hello. Can I come in?”
“U-uh sure?”
He sat cross-legged on the floor.
“I have to give a speech.”
“N-no you don’t, not really. Just explain what’s everyone’s, I mean, what w-we’re all doing right?”
“One would hope. There’s been a change of plans.”
“O-oh?”
He made more sense this time. See, he could talk in a way that made sense. Maybe the third time would—he was not going to jinx this in any way. Rehearse rehearse rehearse and make no predictions. He did not want to do this. Maybe he could make Alphys do it. Ugh, no! Horrible, stupid, cowardly idea!
Alphys screeched when he explained what had happened, and was verbally abusive of the absent Suger. It soothed Gaster a little. He felt justified.  
“Thank you.”
“F-for what?”
“For being the one to call him an asshole, so I don’t end up doing it in the middle of the Very Professional and Not Whiny speech I’m about to make. But seriously, someone needed to do it.”
“M-my pleasure.”

He ended up in the elevator with Sans, JanETeM and a rabbit. As the doors started to close, Seon the dragon appeared down the hall, lifted her belly off the floor and undulated quickly through the air towards them. Gaster leaned back a bit, but her head zoomed around and behind him. Then it came in front of him again, traveling under her long body, and kept going. When the doors closed she was in a corkscrew that looped three times in front of Gaster’s body, with her tufted tail resting on top. The elevator was filled with the smell of clean fur and rain.
She didn’t seem uncomfortable.
When the elevator stopped she wound herself out of it in the same way with a soft whispering sound, and the rest of them followed when they could move without stepping on her.

Yoro was down by the edge of the magma lake, and Hassen was nearby, his chin on the bank. Gaster called Yoro, but he didn’t notice. He appeared to be stretching his arm. As Gaster watched, he picked up a stone, stepped back into a pitcher’s stance, and lobbed it out over the magma. Quickly Hassen dived, and ripples of brighter light marked his movement across the magma. The rock, which had been thrown high, began to come down, and Hassen surfaced from the magma nearby, located it, leapt into the air and caught it in his mouth. Then he did a bellyflop, landing in the magma with a loud smack. He dove, resurfaced closer to Yoro and opened his mouth proudly. A blob of magma rolled out. Yoro applauded.

Once Yoro was inside the team was complete. Twenty-two monsters all counted. They grouped into a rough circle in an open part of the main lab, still vacant and untouched.
“So the plan was I’d be showing you your workspaces and explaining what we’ll start out doing,” said Gaster, “But uh… something’s turned up and I need to… explain a thing. That happened. First.”
They were all staring at him.
His mind went blank.
Okay. (Fuck.) Just.. take a few moments, let it come back.
(Just be a jerk and make Alphys do it.)
Gaster wondered if he could use his heat magic to make himself spontaneously combust.
Gaster wondered if he could glitch out of reality if he dissociated hard enough.
Gaster wondered what the hell he was doing and why he had ever thought that this would be a good idea when he couldn’t fucking talk to people on a good day. Oh right, because Alphys encouraged him. Alphys was not stupid. Alphys was looking expectantly at him. It was turning into a look of dismay and commiseration. Poor kind helpful Alphys.
Words returned.
“A few weeks ago I received an email with a very long attachment discussing the Philips Project. I skimmed the first few paragraphs, incorrectly assumed that it had nothing to do with me, forgot about it and continued with my life. Late yesterday I called Dr. Suger to check in and when I mentioned the Crawler he expressed surprise that I hadn’t seen this coming.” He paused to breathe and make sure that he was still making sense. “I’ve forwarded you all that email. As it turns out, due to the topography of Hotland and the work of the Philips Project, we’re more than usually likely to have displaced and probably angry Crawlers showing up in front of the lab. Which was explained somewhere in the unnecessarily long email which I was sent completely without context. So I technically should have known, but I didn’t until just now, and I’m sorry.” He paused. Almost done. Thank God. What a trainwreck. He was ready to go home and hide in a box with his cats. No, he’d moved the cats out of the house. Great, he’d live in the stable. How fitting.
Lovely, now he was being a drama queen as well as bad at everything. Deep breath, keep going.
“As far as I can tell—and if any of you can understand more clearly than I the implications in that email, please, explain it to me—there’s no way to know exactly when or how many may appear, but we should always be on watch. Again, this wasn’t supposed to happen and I didn’t know about it until now. If any of you feel unsafe you can leave on the next train. …Which will be… sometime after they retrieve the smashed one. Or, maybe you can leave on the… retrieval-train. Thing.” This is the part where you stop talking and let Mary do her thing. “Thanks.”
AAAAAAGH. FUCK.
He looked at Mary, who turned to face the others.
“Dr. Gaster has suggested I review safety, which in theory all of you are already familiar with. The lab is sealed and reinforced against heat, which makes it completely safe from attacks of a normally-sized Crawler. The heat should kill most of them fairly quickly, but if you see one, don’t approach it, don’t pass close to it. The tendrils can reach much farther than you’d think. Let one of the guards take care of it. If you are a guard, please don’t attack a Crawler alone without notifying us. If you happen to touch any part of a Crawler, go directly to the bathroom and wash thoroughly, then report to the clinic for a checkup. But I cannot stress enough how important it is not to let it touch you. All it has to do is touch you.” 
“Thank you Dr. Mary.”
There was an awkward silence. Sans raised his hand.
“Er… yes?” said Gaster.
“So, wait, he never sent you a heads-up email saying ‘hey this is important to your not dying in Hotland please read it’?”
“No. I think the header on the email itself was something like ‘read this’ but with no specifics.”
“OK wow that’s just stupid. Do you think he did it on purpose?”
Gaster opened his mouth and then shut it. He settled for giving Sans a malevolent look that telegraphed his personal feelings about Suger without slinging baseless accusations. He also made a faint growling noise.
“OK wow. I’m staying just as a fuck you to whoever handles interdepartmental communications. Sorry for the language.”
“I agree completely, but also, please don’t make a habit of that,” said Gaster, signing please ignore the hypocrisy.
“Dude, same,” said Yoro. “Hey, it’s my job to fight stuff—“
“Technically your job is spot; please do not give me the responsibility of sending a sad letter home to your family,” said Gaster.
“—yeah, so this just means I won’t be too bored.”
“I’m staying,” said Alphys firmly. Mary gave a shrug.
“Morality dictates that I be the last one out, in case the second-to-last does something stupid and needs to be carted out on a stretcher. Long as there’s someone here, I’m here. Also, while we’re here, I was thinking of starting a step aerobics class. Get you nerds up on your feet. Morning or evening, any preferences?”
“Never morning anything ever,” said Sans.
“Morning!” Said Yoro.
“Wait, so, are we all volunteering to stay? I’m confused?” said Seon. “I’m not leaving.”
“Thank you,” said Gaster. “My point was, this wasn’t a risk you were told about, and if you feel unsafe, you can leave.”
“Eh everyone knew there might be Crawlers, they’re everywhere,” said Sans.
“But not usually in such high numbers as we might be expecting.”
“U-uh, might,” said Alphys. “M-maybe it won’t be too bad? I-I mean, Dr. Mary is right, the lab is pretty safe. We can just… wait a while and see how it works out?”
The Kodama gave an uncomfortable nod. There was a scattered wave of affirmatives. With a wave of relief, Gaster saw that none of them looked outright panicked; some looked upset and some looked simply annoyed; Sans, Yoro and, of all people, JaNEtem looked completely unconcerned.
So he still had a crew. Well that had been more internal turmoil than was necessary. And as he looked at them he felt a strengthening hope.

 

A/N

Me, mentally outlining: this chapter shall be tension, drama, and finally an epic heartwarming show of support which brings the ragtag band of misfits-soon-to-be-heroes together!!

Me, actually writing: Two parts silliness, some exposition and a half-part profanity. Yeah that works.

STILL WRITING HELLA SLOW AS YOU CAN SEE, BUT GETTING THINGS DONE. THIS WILL CONTINUE. IT IS BARELY BEGINNING.

I HAVE TO WRITE MORE ABOUT THE CAR. THE CARRRRR.

ALSO SOULLLSSSSSSSSS. AND PIE. AND POSSIBLY DONUTS.

Chapter 39: Day One

In which I come back strong with double conductor pun names

The Conductor, whose name was Bill, was feeling better and turned out to be a very chatty person. Sans made a habit of poking his head into the clinic to stealth-inflict a joke and then leaving while he laughed.

The first part of the day was for settling in. A certain portion of the lab was desk space, and everyone aside from Mary, who had her own office, Yoro, who didn’t need one, and JanEtEM, who manned a desk near the front door which was theoretically open for visitors which did not exist, had one. Gaster pointed out that the seating arrangements were random and could be changed easily. Which was good, because Seon the dragon was in the middle of a row and knocked over two desks trying to open a box of pens. Gaster moved her to the back, where her body had room to coil behind the others. There was still the problem that she tended to thrash her tail when excited. They could only hope she thrashed mostly against the wall and not the other desks. She was very apologetic, and between her repeated apologies and Gaster’s repeated reassurances it nearly devolved into a politeness battle of ridiculous proportions.

Their first task was to go over Gaster’s notes wholesale, making sure that, for one thing, everyone understood what they meant, and for another, that Gaster hadn’t left any important notes incomprehensible, which was a genuine concern. Alphys was only one monster, her feats in getting the basic project overview to look nice on paper were laudable, but there was more to the project than that. Most of the notes were in Gaster’s handwriting, and parts were more legible than others. The Kodama, who had unbelievably precise handwriting, and janETEM began making translations of some of the worst pages, guided by Gaster (who often had to spend a while deciphering his own handwriting in order to explain what it said.)
Bad handwriting and lack of needed detail weren’t the worst problems, though they were the most common ones. Gaster noticed Sans squinting furiously at a section of notes and went over. Sans silently tilted the page towards him. Gaster translated. Sans turned the page back, squinting at it even harder.
“Is my handwriting that bad?” said Gaster. He’d thought it was quite clear. Sans gave him a lost look.
“What language is this?”
“….” Gaster realized what was wrong and began choking with laughter. “Gaelic. I… didn’t even notice. I just switched into Irish Gaelic for half a page without realizing it.”
At this Seon bolted up.
“Oh! Is that why I can’t read this one sentence like at all?”
“Let me check.”
Gaster went over, perused the sentence in question, slapped the page back down and began laughing.
“Greek. It’s Greek. But my handwriting is so bad I’m not surprised you couldn’t tell the difference.”
“Well that’s Greek to me,” said Sans, leaning back in his chair. Seon looked at the scrambled sentence in confusion.
“Is this Greek?” asked the rabbit, a mousy doe with cream-colored eye markings, holding up a page. Gaster went over. “There’s a mystery letter that I’ve figured out that you keep using instead of “th” in words. I can read the rest of it.”
“Oh. No, wow, that’s a thorn. It’s English, it just isn’t used much anymore. Good work with the linguistic detective work, I… did not realize that my notes were this incomprehensible. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, that’s what that is?” said Sans. “Like, a P with extra on top? I’ve seen that a couple times too.” He wrote down þ=th on a sheet of notes he was keeping, alongside a mechanical description he’d rephrased to be clearer.

A sharp whistle from the front signaled that the retrieval train, or rather engine, had arrived. Gaster went to the door and was surprised to see two tall figures walking up towards the lab while another connected the dead train to the new engine. Neither of the two looked comfortable in the heat, one shook her head uncomfortably, whipping a long ponytail back and forth across her heavily armored shoulders—oh poor Guard, why did she wear her full uniform out here to the lava?—and one panting, his pointed ears drooping down. Oh. It was Husk. He didn’t know the other, probably a friend of Husk’s, so he was disinclined to trust them. Not that he had any real reason to.
He held the door open and they sped up and came inside. Husk visibly relaxed in the air conditioning.
“Dr. Gaster?”
“Hello.”
“I’m Husk, Captain of the Royal Guard.”
“Oh. I’ve seen you around, it’s good to finally meet you.”
They shook hands. Husk looked sleep deprived.
“This is Undyne, one of the castle guards.”
The Guardswoman, a blue-skinned aquatic monster with long red hair, was swinging her arms, letting cool air flow over the heated metal. She shook his hand with a toothy grin.
“You live out here, man? Hardcore.”
Gaster nodded. A castle guard and the Captain.
“I’m honored, but what are you doing out here?”
“Checking up on you,” said Husk. “The King wanted us to make sure you’re settled in safely and all the life support equipment is functional.”
Gaster had handled that that morning with a detailed email, but maybe Asgore hadn’t noticed it yet.
“So far nothing has broken, except the elevator, briefly, and that’s because I broke it while trying to fix it, and it’s alright now because I did eventually fix it.”
Husk looked confused.
“Anyway, Bill is back in the clinic. I can show you around a bit on the way there, if you’d like? We’re still setting up.”
Husk nodded, and they walked back into the main lab. Sans was explaining Thorn to the fluffy dragon as they passed. Gaster started to make a comment to Husk about the water supply, when his mind was driven blank by an ungodly screech that erupted from behind him.
“SANS!?”
Husk flinched, evidently startled as well. Sans looked up.
“Undyne??”
The two stood facing each other, Undyne half-crouched with her arms spread, grinning that toothy grin, Sans just staring like a blank potato.
“SANS!”
Sans grinned and flung up his arms.
“UNDYNE!”
“NGAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Undyne sprinted forward, caught up Sans in her hands, slid to a stop on one knee and lifted him above her head with a warrior’s scream, which Sans echoed, his arms still in the air.
“haaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Mary burst out of the clinic.
“What’s wrong?! Oh, you.” she saw Undyne, turned around and retreated into the clinic.
Undyne stood, lowering Sans to chest level. Husk and Gaster looked at each other to verify that yes, both of them were equally confused.
“I think they know each other?...” said Husk.
“I’d assume so,” said Gaster.
“Dude, I’m so glad to see you, I thought you’d been crushed long ago!” Undyne shouted in Sans’ face. “What are you doing here!?”
“Science, hopefully.”
“Oh my god you got out, I’m so proud of you!”
“Yeah! What about you?! Where’d you go, you just disappeared! We were all so worried about you!”
“Oh man that’s the best story ever, I met some Guards in the line for the grocery store and asked them to fight me so we fought and I CREAMED them, then I walked outside and their friends were there and I CREAMED THEM, and then CAPTAIN HUSK showed up and I PUNCHED HIM IN THE FACE!”
“Did… did they ask you to fight them?”
“AND THEY SIGNED ME RIGHT UP! I never even went back for my stuff, I was so happy to be gone! Dude, it’s so amazing to be a Guard, I love everyone and I’m gonna fight ALL THE HUMANS when we get out of here! Oh, oh we have these sparring matches they’re so fun, King Asgore even takes part sometimes, I FOUGHT ASGORE AND IT WAS AMAZING, oh that’s another story he gave me private coaching for a while oh geez I need to slow down, what about you?? Like, I was seriously worried about you after I left, I thought you’d fall under a cart or something for sure without me to take care of you! Jeez man how’d you get into science? That was your dream right?”
“Could we maybe talk about this later?”
“YEAH! BRO! SORRY! Just so happy to see you! NGAAH!” Undyne sank to lunge position, turned Sans to face his colleagues and raised him above her head. “THIS GUY IS AWESOME! DID HE TELL YOU HE CAN SLING AROUND FOUR TIMES HIS WEIGHT ALL DAY LIKE NOTHING IF YOU HOOK HIM UP TO A MAGIC PULLEY?”
“Undyne…”
“BECAUSE HE CAN! RRAAAAAaaaaaaaa.”
She set him gently on the ground and stepped back with an affectionate snarl. Sans looked shell-shocked.
Mary had reappeared and was giving everyone in general a questioning look.
Gaster expelled a sigh. “Well that explains a few things.”
Sans turned to look at him.
“I can explain—”
“No need to, I’d guessed half of it. But really Sans, if you had to get a job underage, did it need to be so imperiling?”
“Yeah kinda?”
“Damn, that sucks. Where’s Bill?”
Gaster and Husk disappeared into the clinic. Undyne threw finger guns at Sans, grinning, and backed directly into Mary.
“Oh, HEY there Dr. Mary!”
“Hey there. Have you stopped beating your fellow Guardsmen to a pulp in your.. meatgrinder beat-down “sparring” matches?” said Mary, putting airquotes around the word sparring.
Undyne gave her a completely flummoxed look.
“…Well they haven’t stopped challenging me yet, so no?”
Mary sighed deeply and the two joined the others in the clinic.
Sans was still frozen in place. For several moments, there was an award silence. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, it was the Kodama who spoke up, in a small voice:
“Guards are.. weird.”
Five people agreed at once, and the fluffy dragon upset several papers across the floor trying to ask Sans if she had drawn Thorn correctly. He went over to help her.

A few minutes later there was a banging on the door and Alphys left a gasping frog monster inside. His name was Tad, he was the replacement conductor, and he’d brought plenty water to hydrate with the sheer heat was getting to him. Alphys, sympathizing with another monster who needed to regulate their own body temperature, took him downstairs so he could take a cold shower. Meanwhile Gaster gave Husk a brief tour of the interior and then the exterior of the lab.
“Huh.” Husk panted, looking around at the magma lakes. “Great. Let’s go back inside.”
“Why are you here, exactly?”
“Partly what I told you, partly because Suger is as ass. Now can we go inside?”
“Suger what?”
“Is this heat torture? Please.”
“Alright.” Gaster scanned the magma. He’d been hoping to introduce Hassen to Husk, but it looked like he’d have to make do with a description.
“He wants a firsthand description of how well you’re doing, is all I meant.”
“Wouldn’t he get that anyway, with the official report?”
Husk signed and turned towards the lab.
“Indoors. For the love of God.”
Suddenly the ground split open at his feet, and in a burst of incandescent liquid rock, Hassen rose up, giving a friendly warble.
A friendly warble that sounded to the uninitiated like a soul-rendingly malevolent demoniac screech.
Husk screamed and lashed out with his magic, and Hassen, reacting quickly, cut off his greeting, sucked back down into the hole he’d made and slammed the rock back down over it, leaving only a cooling patch of fragmented ground.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”
“Oh dear. I was hoping he’d show up, but not like that, I… forgot he does that. That’s Hassen”
“WHAT?”
“That’s what we call him, anyway. Calm down, Captain. He’s just a magma spirit. He’s quite friendly.”
Hassen looked over at the magma lake, where Hassen had resurfaced and was giving him a doubtful look, submerged up to his narrowed eyes.
“Shit. …Excuse me. Let’s go inside.”
“Yes.”
As they walked Gaster processed what he’d seen. Husk’s magic hadn’t been bullets, but a single sweeping flash. That wasn’t terribly unusual, a monster’s special attacks could take many different forms, and the shape of the slash was similar to Gaster’s own cutting magic when it was used as an attack. But the color of it had been a bit odd. It was bright red, an unusual color for monster magic, a color usually only used by humans.

 

A/N: OK so like
https://niuniunuko.deviantart.com/art/Writing-644479668

Haha. Now first of all, AMAZING FANART! 

eriecanary

FollowerofMercy CORE ver1

FollowerofMercy CORE ver2

FollowerofMercy Impending Window Damage in 3...2...

I thought I was going to be so smart and name a frog Tad like Tadpole and then I remembered that’s totally been done with the Leapfrog frogs, man I had forgotten they existed

OK YEAH SO I’M BACK, AND ~AGAIN~ I TOOK WAY LONGER TO GET THE NEXT CHAPTER DONE THAN I EXPECTED

But at least this time I have writing to show for it.

I WAS WALLOWING IN ANGST pretty much the entire time, and here we have:

-A collection of ten flash or close-to-flash-length fics ranging from Complete Pain to Mixed Bag of Emotions to Utterly Pleasant Fluff and I even did one ship fic for a prompt, they’re on DeviantArt here (starting with Keys)

and AO3 here:

I also started a… how do I even explain this
[MILD SPOILERS VERSION] It’s like a sexy spy thriller but fanfiction and due to a twist there’s no actual sex and eventually it turns into a friendship fic and it’s like, somewhere in between hilarious and soul-crushingly angsty and I don’t even know but I’ve been getting good feedback so it works?
[NO SPOILERS VERSION] AU where The War between Humans and Monsters basically replaces WWII. Grillbz is a double agent. Dr. Gaster has defected to the humans. Or has he? The monsters aren’t 100% sure anymore due to some weirdness going on and they send Grillbz/Monster Intelligence Agent Weiss/Human Republic-serving (supposedly hahaha) Companion Kip to go check on him and figure out what needs to be done. Grillbz in this is a perfect double agent because he’s completely dead inside and the only things that make him happy are screwing over the humans and, much less importantly, food. 

So yeah that's up too as its own story on both AO3 and FFN. 

Also, completely randomly, two things that make me happy: a Willa Cather short story I read for a class,

http://greatbooksojai.com/The_Agora_Foundation-Neighbor_Rosicky-Willa_Cather.pdf

And a Japanese vocaloid song using Chinese traditional instruments that I think everyone can enjoy because it’s lovely.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxx4z64GH38

Chapter 40: The Trapdoor of Philosophical Inquiry

May contain spiders. 

Or, in which Grillbz calms a distraught skeleton scholar. 

It was late morning. Grillbz was deep in thought, slowly polishing a glass, when the sleepy atmosphere of between-rush-hours Grillby’s was broken by the door slamming violently open. Grillbz’ head snapped up, alert to deal with the threat, but it wasn’t a human or an elemental or an injured Sentry or even an extremely early drunk: it was, in fact, Papyrus. He was holding a book. Grillbz relaxed.
“.good morning.please close the door.”
“I CAN’T READ ANY OF THESE WORDS!”
Grillbz saw that it was the Lbrary’s sole collection of Greek philosophers. What had he done.
“...yeah.that sounds about right for a first reading.”
“WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHY WON’T HE STOP TALKING! WHY DOES NOTHING MAKE SENSE! WHY DOES HE KEEP TALKING ABOUT HORSES AND MEN AND DIFFERENT TYPES OF BEING LIKE IT’S SUPPOSED TO MAKE SENSE?!”
“.ah.Aristotle?”
“I CAN’T UNDERSTAND IT! AM I STUPID??”
“.no.it sounds like you have a fairly good grasp of what’s going on actually.please shut the door.”
“OH! OH GOOD! WHY’S IT SO HARD? AND WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THEM?! THERE ARE ALL THESE NAMES BUT NONE OF THEM ARE GETTING ANYWHERE! OR ARE THEY? CAN I JUST NOT TELL? WHY DOES HE KEEP TALKING ABOUT A HORSE, BUT SOMETIMES IT’S NOT A HORSE, IT’S ALL THE HORSES EVER EXCEPT NOT REAL??”
Grillbz set down his glass and rag, walked around the bar and flustered Papyrus, who had rushed up to it, and closed the door. Papyrus, only now processing that he had left it open, scurried after him and apologized while Grillbz towed him back to the bar and sat him on a stool. He pried the book out of his hand and paged through it.
“.first of all these translations are terrible.second, you need a dictionary of terms, at least, if this is your first time reading.very few people can just pick up Aristotle and read him like a novel.” He dropped the book on the bar.
“OH. OK, GOOD. I WAS JUST GOING TOO FAST.”
“.I believe so, yes.don’t worry about it.”
“BUT WHY DOESN’T IT MAKE SENSE?!”
Grillbz sighed.
“.once upon a time there were a people called the Greeks.they thought they were really smart.so they decided to solve the basic questions of reality using nothing but logic.it went about as well as one might expect...I mean that in both a good way and a bad way.”
Papyrus’ eyes were shining.
“THAT’S SO COOL. DID IT WORK?”
“...sort of, yes.how well it worked...depends on who you ask.that’s why there are so many of them, spending so much time on these questions—they’re questions you can’t answer any other way, so they all read each other and come up with new ideas, hoping that the new ones will be better than the last.”
“SO WILL THEY EVENTUALLY GET IT RIGHT IF THEY JUST KEEP WRITING NEW STUFF AND LISTENING TO EACH OTHER? OR DID SOMEBODY MAYBE GET IT RIGHT ALREADY AND WE JUST CAN’T TELL AND WE’RE ACTUALLY GETTING WRONGER AND WRONGER WITH TIME?”
“.well.that’s the question isn’t it.”
Grillbz walked behind the bar and put the glass away.
“SO NONE OF THIS IS ACTUALLY TRUE?”
“.some of it is.some of it has turned out to be wrong.some, no one can tell yet.”
“WOWIE. LIKE A MYSTERIOUS PROPHECY IN A STORY!”
“...rather, yes.” Grillbz started to ask Papyrus if he wanted anything, then decided not to. He didn’t mind the loud skeleton just sitting there. Though he’d prefer not to deal with his existential crisis during work hours. “.what time are we meeting?”
“WE? WHAT? OH THE CAR! YOU REALLY DO WANT TO HELP WITH THE CAR! OOH! I’M SO EXCITED! WHAT TIME WILL YOU BE FREE?!”
“...ten?”
“OH THAT’S LATE. OK! SEE YOU THEN!”
“.Pa—” the door swung shut. “.alright.see you.”
“What the whaaat just happened?” asked the greasy duck whose entire life consisted in occupying one of Grillbz’ bar chairs, leaning over on one wing.
“.I am going to attempt to resuscitate a Surface car that has fallen down deep fissures in the earth’s crust twice and been flung through a wall at least once.I am also going to attempt to keep Papyrus from going stir crazy with his brother gone.”
“That’s nice of you.”
Grillbz shrugged.
“.what can I say.he reminds me of his father.and it’s beginning to seem like I have a weakness for skeletons in general at this point.which reminds me,” he lowered his voice and muttered something unintelligible, even to the duck, who had trained his ears to pick up Grillbz’ dry whispery voice through the ambient sound at the bar.
“Couldn’t hear what you said, buddy, but it sounds kinda like you have a bone to pick with someone.”
“.was that pun intentional.”
“Aha, I was right! Skeletons, you said, so I figured—who’s the mystery skeleton? Or is it Sans? Did he leave a big tab when he left?”
“.yes actually.now that you mention it.he’d better come back.”

Somewhat more than two weeks had passed at the lab, and everyone was settling in. Except for one rabbit who had to leave because her mother became desperately ill. So “everyone” was down to twenty-one monsters counting Yoro and Mary, who had declared herself resident coffee-maker and “listener,” what she called counselling.
Gaster was carefully Not Panicking, because Alphys was, and he didn’t want her to. He wanted her to see that he had things under control and relax a bit.
Well, that wasn’t likely to happen, for several reasons. One, he only very loosely, kinda-sorta had things under control, with Alphys constantly reminding him of things he’d forgotten. Two, Alphys didn’t relax very easily. She sometimes said that having actual problems to solve made her calmer, as long as they weren’t overwhelming. If there was nothing to do her brain would just find a disturbing idea to latch onto and refuse to let it go.
They had nearly completed giving everyone a crash course in planned CORE mechanics and understanding Gaster’s handwriting. (Additionally and not on a completely unrelated subject, Sans had learned to read a few words in Greek, and Seon in Old English.) They were making models and checking their supplies and bridges. They were also ascertaining who could and could not cook. Alphys had hung up a signup sheet for monsters to volunteer to make meals. Blank spaces were either do-it-yourself or, more often, Gaster. He was always up to something—baking cookies or puzzling over his own messy notes or attempting to communicate with Hassen. Hassen was still around, but they hadn’t established a way of communicating with him, and he was impatient with their amateurish attempts to do so.

Gaster was, however, not at the lab at the moment. He was walking back and forth over a stretch of bland, featureless baked earth, looking back at Hassen now and then. Hassen was attempting to direct him with increasingly impatient shrills. Finally he threw his arms up and disappeared under the magma. Alphys was helpfully pushing rocks over and checking under them. Sans was sitting on a rock.
“I agree with ya, he’s definitely trying to tell us somethin. But I can’t tell what it is.”
“He was very insistent we visit this area. There must be something here,” said Gaster, pacing in another direction, frowning.
The ground tilted under his feet, precipitated him down a dark chute, and closed after him.
Sans blinked.
“What.”
“What?” said Alphys, craning her head to look around a rock she was balancing on its edge. Her eyes panned to the side and took in the suddenly empty rock flats. “...WHAT?!”
“What, uh. Yeah. He just, uh, fell down a hole in the ground—”
“Did you see where?!”
“Uh, yeah, I’ve got my eye on it, but don’t touch it yet,” said Sans, sliding off his rock and walking towards the patch of ground. Alphys dropped the rock and raced after him.
Hassen resurfaced, looked around for Gaster, and made an inquisitive blurbling whistle.
“Uh, here, I think?” said Sans, tapping a foot on the cracked section of ground that he thought Gaster had disappeared under. He knelt and pressed on it with his hands. It shifted a little.
“Stand over there, hold my hands and I’ll stand on it,” said Alphys.
“Um,” said Sans. “You are investing a lot of trust in a very lightweight monster—!”
“Use your blue magic if you need to.”
“Uh, about that.”
“He told you to practice!”
“Yyyep. He did.” They linked hands and Alphys stepped onto the ground. It opened up like a trapdoor and she fell until she was hanging against it, holding it open with her weight while Sans clung desperately to her hands.
Hassen made a chirping sound and an ‘oh, yeah, that! That’s what I was trying to show you guys!’ gesture.
“Dr. Gaster!” shouted Alphys down the black hole. Sans dug in his heels and regretted not practicing Gaster’s blue attack. “DR. GASTER!!”
“Heyyyy!” came a voice faintly from the depths.
“Are you OK?!”
“Yeah, fine! Things are great! Just go back to the lab and wait for me there!”
“What! No?? We’re coming down to get you, once we figure out how to keep this trapdoor open—”
“No, don’t, it’s fine, I’m good! Just go home! Don’t panic! Uh, maybe panic a little if I’m not back within two hours!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Shouted Alphys, wriggling up a little so she could put her arms on solid ground and support her own weight. Sans stepped back and shook out his arms. Alphys took out her phone.
“What have you got in there, a grappling hook?” said Sans sarcastically.
Alphys opened a hole in space, reached in, and took out a flashlight.
“N-no, but that would have been good. I-I’ll put one in when we get back.”
Sans was too stunned to react. Alphys turned and shined the flashlight down the hole, and Sans grabbed the back of her shirt and held her in place, looking over her shoulder.
Something like thirty feet down, Gaster was hanging upside-down in a spider web. Ragged ends of other, broken webs trailed across the edges of the light between them and him. Gaster was covered in spiders.
“Hello,” he said, gently shaking a spider off into the webs next to him.
Alphys sucked in her breath.
“D-don’t move I’ll.. I can throw something down to you.”
Gaster looked up—or down, rather. Alphys hesitated. She too felt a faint ripple of magic from within the cavern.
“That would be rude,” said Gaster. “I should at least apologize for breaking all these webs.”
“You j-just fell down a trapdoor into a giant p-pit of darkness!” shouted Alphys.
“It’s fine,” said Gaster. “Traps misfire every day down here, it’s just something we deal with. Now move, little ones, I’m going to drop, I don’t want to land on any of you.”
The spiders leapt off him in waves, except for one or two which remained clinging to the front of his sweater.
“What do you want us to do?!” Shouted Alphys.
“Go back to the lab and wait two hours, I said. I’ll see you later!” He swung his upper body up, cut the webs holding him with a slash of cutting magic, and dropped out of sight, screaming. The scream was cut off with a whooping sound when he hit the floor twenty feet below. A dark wave of spiders slowly covered him and dragged him out of view.
“Let’s go,” whispered Sans. “I don’t like this either but I don’t think we can do much to help him alone, also did your phone just break the laws of spacetime?”
“Y-you’re right,” said Alphys, pulling herself up. The trapdoor swung closed. They turned to face it.
“You got a marker or a flag or something in there?”
“Y-yeah.” Alphys rummaged around in her hole in the fabric of reality, pulled out a large red permanent marker and drew an X on the trapdoor.
“Remind me to ask you about that reality-breaking phone, later, when we’re not rescuing the doc—”  
“Bending!”
“What?”
“B-bend-ding, n-not breaking. If you break reality it’s broken and that’s b-bad.”
“Uhh, good to know. Does it make calls too?”
“Y-yeah! Of course!”
Hassen stayed nearby, in the inlet of magma near the trapdoor, whistling concernedly.

JanetTem was curled up on her desk, reading a psychology textbook, when the desk phone rang. She vibrated into the air and came down on the other side of the phone.
“hOi??”
It rang again. JaneTEM realized that in her excitement at hearing the phone ring for the first time she hadn’t actually answered it. How silly of her. She picked it up, clearing her throat.
“Hoi! This is CORE Lab”
“JANETEM THIS IS ALPHYS GASTER JUST FELL DOWN A HOLE FILLED WITH SPIDERS AND WE CAN’T FIND HIM PLEASE TELL THE OTHERS!”
“...Wat?”
“JANETEM!!”
“Yas. Alphys?”
“DR. GASTER! JUST! F-FELL DOWN! A H-HOLE!”
“OH NOES! Is hE HuIrT??”
“I don’t know but he was dragged off by a bunch of spiders!”
“SPOIDERS!!” JanEtem bounced away from the phone. “Dr. MaRYyyYy!” 

Meanwhile, Gaster had made one of his better flat-on-his-back landings, since the ground he’d landed on was covered in a soft layer of spiderwebs. He’d still conked his head a bit but the webs had absorbed a lot of the shock. He sighed in relief.
...He couldn’t move, since he was still wrapped in the webs he’d fallen through on his way down. And now there were spiders everywhere and he didn’t want to hurt them. Most living beings down here were monsters and therefore intelligent, his cats were one of the few exceptions. And these were very large spiders with piercing eyes. Best not to antagonize them.
“Hey there,” he said. They snagged pieces of the webs still wrapped around him and began pulling him away. He looked up at Sans and Alphys, silhouetted against the red glow of the cave beyond, and waved his free hand as much as he could from the hip. He didn’t think they noticed.
One of the spiders on his chest was sewing up the scraps of web to hold him even more securely tied. He didn’t struggle. That had been boss monster magic that he felt, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. He hadn’t thought there were any more besides him and Asgore. Well, and Toriel, but she was effectively out of the picture at the moment.
There was a faint light in the place, although the trapdoor had closed itself up so tightly no cracks were visible; a purplish-blue light that probably came from crystals, though there weren’t nearly enough for him to get his bearings.
More and more and more spiders were joining the others. They were attaching ropes to the webs binding him and hauling away, and he was moving faster and faster as more joined in.
“Don’t bang my head please,” he said quietly. “It’s been through quite enough already.”
 The spiders dragged him through a space of soft, sticky webs and up onto a platform that felt firmer, then swarmed over him and began biting through the webs which he was now practically cocooned in. He didn’t like the sound of their tiny mandibles snapping so close to his bones, even though he doubted they could really hurt him, but gritted his teeth and put up with it. When he was free the spiders swarmed away.
Slowly he stood, and brushed off the shreds of web as well as he could. They stuck to his hands.
“Hello?”
There was a faint rumble from the shadows ahead. He summoned a tiny fireball.
He was standing on a thin, raised pathway of packed dirt, covered with webs as everything else in the area was, but a different kind of web, dry and tough, not sticky and ensnaring. Good for walking on. Ahead, just visible in the flickering orange glow, was a hulking, dumpy shape with many, many legs. Eyes glittered darkly in the light. It snapped an enormous maw.
“Hello,” said Gaster. “How are you?”
“He’s fine,” said a girlish voice from just behind his earhole. He jumped and the light flickered out. “A bit hungry though, I haven’t fed him today. Who are you?”
“Dr. W.D. Gaster, working at the new lab near here. And you, ma’am?”
The other uncovered a crystal jar and he found himself facing a perhaps five-foot-tall spider who stood upright on two legs and wore a purple pantsuit.
“Why hello dearie. You can call me Muffet.”
“Pleased to meet you! I would prefer not to have met you by accidentally falling down a fifty-foot drop into darkness, but all the same!”
“You’re a boss monster too, aren’t you?”
Well, not wasting time on small talk are we.
“Yes. You can tell?”
“Oh yes dearie, my webs tell me all kinds of things.” She giggled conspiratorially. “I wasn’t aware there were any skeletons left.”
“There are a few. I only know two, at the moment.”
“Oh, really? Hm. Well, suit yourself, but I’m more attached to my family. We stick together.”
Gaster looked down. They were surrounded by spiders. He made a mental note not to make any sudden movements with his feet.
“Oh, good for you. I didn’t realize anyone lived out here.  As a matter of fact, I’ve never heard of you at all.”
Muffet’s tone changed to conversational.
“Well, we’ve kept to ourselves, mostly, but I’d like to change that now. The old colony still lives in the Ruins. My mother took a small colony here when I was an egg, and it’s where I grew up. But we all miss being united with the rest of our family. And it’s so much nicer here than in the ruins, they’d love it.”
“Oh. What’s keeping them?”
“Snowdin.”
“Oh. Of course.” The tiny monsters couldn’t survive long in that cold, and it was a long way to get from Snowdin to Hotland.
“But,” she clapped four of her hands, spreading the other two behind her, “We’re going to work around that by raising money to transport them all and their belongings safely. I’ve decided to hold a bake sale.”
“Excellent! ...Just one?”
“Oh yes dearie, but this bake sale never ends. Would you like to buy something?”
She gestured behind Gaster, who turned from the waist, not wanting to move his feet without looking down first when in the proximity of so many tiny monsters. A table had appeared. Probably carried in by spiders. It held an assortment of... possibly edible objects.
“Um,” said Gaster, exploring the contents of his pockets. “Possibly. Do you take payments in cat hair and stray teabags? Nope, nevermind, I found my wallet.”

 

A/N: OK first things first. ART!!! It has been SO LONG without an update... that MANY AMAZING THINGS have been posted! Yay!!! (the 'titles' I list are silly and I took liberties hope you don't mind)

FollowerofMercy: Unyne lifting Sans from that last chapter  and Grillby lifting a CAR  (and a ver.2), not to mention a compilation of Grillbies having a hot-off.

StarBellWing: Gaster, Gifster , Gaster 2, Gifster 2, Pre-Barrier Grillbz, and Alphys! 

A Christmas sketchdump from yours truly. 

And an AMAZING drawing by Reunaa of Grillbz dying in The Worst ("Overflow") flashfic I wrote, on her suggestion. Because we're both masochists?... 

ONESHOTS!!! 

~TralalaAAAAA~ by FollowerofMercy

"Perhaps I oughtn't to have chucked my old chum out a window" by FollowerofMercy (no I make it sound dumb but SERIOUSLY this one is good) 

Also did you know that trapdoor spiders are a thing. They make little tiny trapdoors and when unsuspecting bugs wander by they dart out and snag ‘em. They are terrifying.

It took three months and an antidepressant to get this chapter written and not because I lacked ideas. Holy heck I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just write almost an entire chapter in a single burst of energy, like I used to when I started this fic. It’s a good feeling.
There’s a possibility that this thing I’ve started taking will make me TOO wired. We’ll see. Anyway, it’s helping. I’m doing things again. *fist pump*

I hope life has treated you all well in the past three months. (If any of y’all are even still here X’D it’s been so long sorry) and I will hopefully actually make progress with this fic now. Happy 2018 y’all. To the new year!

Wait no. This author note would not be complete without a RANDOM ELECTRONICA SUGGESTION

Trapdoor

Chapter 41: Whalebone

In which HEY I'M NOT DEAD?? 

Seon jerked up at a shout from Mary, tumbled over in the air, banked and started down. Gaster looked up from the rock flats below and waved cheerfully. 
“We heard you’d been kidnapped by spiders!” shouted Mary as they coasted down. 
“More or less,” said Gaster. “I sort of fell down on top of them. Also, did you know we have a veritable city of little eight-legged neighbors? ...Some not so little.” 
“How did you get out?” 
“Miss Muffet kindly showed me the door, after relieving me of most of my gold in return for cupcakes.” 
“Cupcakes!?” 
Gaster removed a flat box from under his jacket and opened it, displaying an assortment of rather squashed-looking cupcakes. 
“Ah. They’re a bit worse for wear. Perhaps it would be better for her to sell something more easily transportable, like... bagels? Donuts?” 
Seon was paddling her feet on the ground and hissing ‘hot hot hot hot!’ Yoro, seated directly behind her head, looked rather ill and was panting rapidly. 
“Get on,” said Dr. Mary, “We came to rescue you.” 
“Oh! That’s very kind of you.” 
“But I’m glad we don’t have to fly through an army of spiders.” 
“That reminds me, where are Sans and Alphys? I’m guessing that they called you.” 
“They did.” 
Gaster climbed onto Seon’s back. Her fur was cool and rippled lightly beneath his phalanges, like currents of invisible water were running through it.

Sans and Alphys had rigged a weight system using what looked like a small cannon barrel, some duct tape and rope and several crowbars to keep the trapdoor open and were peering down it when Seon landed behind them, then gasped, picked her feet up and levitated several feet above the ground, legs folded into her belly fur. Sans looked up, then Alphys. 
“Heyyy!” 
“Heyyy. I’m alive,” said Gaster. 
Alphys jumped up and ran to him, Sans followed. 
“We, uh, were kinda worried about you. Where’d you find him?” 
“He was out wandering around closer to the cave wall.” 
“I got cupcakes,” said Gaster, helping Alphys up onto Seon’s back. 
“C-cupcakes??” 
“Seon, are you doing alright with all of us?” 
“Yes, fine! You’re light and the other two are small. Sans is both, I’m guessing.” 
“You guess correctly,” said Sans. “Coming up—” Gaster reached down to help him, but he must not have been paying very close attention because before he could reach him Sans was already settled behind him. 
“Oh, we need to get that stuff,” said Gaster, pointing at the objects keeping the trapdoor open. 
“Why?! We need to know where it is so no one else—you’re right, they’ll just take my stuff. And no one comes out here.” Alphys jumped down and chucked everything back into the portal. The trapdoor swung up and locked silently into place, displaying the large red X on its surface. Gaster laughed. 
“Well, that’ll make it fairly obvious, anyway.”

The entire team was waiting for them at the door when they got back. 
“I’m fine, really,” Gaster said, “Minor misunderstanding with our new neighbors. They’re fairly friendly. Very keen on making money though. But the cupcakes are worth it.” 
He placed the cupcake box on a table and opened it. The icing had melted and smeared all over, so the cupcakes sat in a multicolored sea of sludge. 
“...Oh. Yeah, they’re just getting started. Anyway, I need to make a phone call.” 
He went back outside and as the doors closed behind him they heard him say “Asgore what the fuck?” rather more loudly than necessary. 
Mary looked at Yoro, who was flapping his shirt to get a current of cool air against his belly fur. 
“You know, I have some clippers, I could give you a trim.” 
“Really? Oh God, please do. Do it now.”

“Spiders,” said Gaster. “Yes. Giant spider lady woman. No, I’m sure, she’s definitely a boss monster. I don’t know, that’s what I was going to ask you, but she said she was brought from the Ruins while she was an egg.” 
“Oh!” said Asgore. “I think I do remember a spider colony in the Ruins, but I hadn’t heard from them in such a long time that I’d forgotten about them! I didn’t realize they had their own line of boss monsters.” 
“Evidently they do. I’d hoped that you knew about it.”
“No, no I didn’t. Why wouldn’t I have told you, if I had known?” 
“Oh I don’t know, I’ve been out of the loop. But it seems neither of us knew. Perhaps they’re not very sociable. But she’s moved out to Hotland now...”  
“Well, how lovely. I shall have to come visit her.” 
“Bring some gold for the bake sale, but not too much, she’ll convince you to part with all of it.” 
“Oh dear. Shrewd girl, is she?” 
“She’s just looking out for her family. But yes.”

He came back inside, frowning with thought. A dog pranced out. 
“Hello!” The dog shouted. Gaster looked up at him. He didn’t recognize him for a moment. 
“Who...? Yoro! You’re smaller!” 
“I can breathe again! This feels great!” He laughed. “Oh, man, I should have done this ages ago but I didn’t want to ruin my fur, oh who cares, this is so much better—you’re lucky you don’t have skin, Doctor!” 
“I have often thought that,” smiled Gaster. He walked over to the table where Alphys was analyzing the chemical composition of one of the cupcakes while Sans took hearty bites out of another. 
“How are they?” 
“I’m not sure yet,” said Alphys, scanning the readout. 
“Pretty good,” said Sans around a mouthful of icing. “Lots of icing.” 
“I can feel my heart rate accelerating,” said the Kodama quietly, examining the icing on his fingers. 
“I wouldn’t eat them,” said Alphys decisively, looking up. “They’re like 80% not food.” 
“How’s that different from the average stuff you get in New Home?” 
Alphys was taken aback. 
“...My point is I’m not sure what is in it. I-it’s not any known food-grade filler, so—” 
“I volunteer as poison tester,” said Sans, taking two more cupcakes with a grin. “Monitor me for signs of toxicity.” He took another bite. “Don’t thank me, it’s for the good of monsterkind.” 
Gaster snorted. 
“You may have a point, Alphys, I don’t think they would intentionally poison us, but spiders may have different standards of edibility.” 
“Y-yeah.” 
“But I can tell her I have at least one vote for the cupcakes.” 
“Wait, i-is she... coming here?” 
“No, no. I’m going back there.” 
“Why?!” 
“They want feedback on the cupcakes.” 
“Did they threaten you? Why would you go all the way back there—” 
“No, Alphys, they haven’t threatened me.—except implicitly. But she’s a young boss monster in a harsh new area, eager to protect her family; they backed off when they saw I had no evil intentions, so that doesn’t bother me. But we do have some things to discuss.” 
“Things huh?” said Sans. “Guess they know more about the area than we do. And unlike Hassei, they can talk.” 
“Hassen can talk, just not to us. And that’s a good point, I should ask about that too.” 
“T-too, so... so what are you going to be talking about, m-mainly?” 
“Family issues. I’m curious about where she came from.”

A few weeks passed—the first few days spent in exploring and repairing the bridges and other equipment, the next ten days in carefully piecing together the first smallest prototype from Gaster’s notes and setting it up over a very deep, very hot stretch of magma. It appeared to work, though not as smoothly as it could, and making it larger would likely cause more problems to appear. However, it was an encouraging start, and Gaster’s next call to Asgore was highly enthusiastic. Asgore sounded confused but pleased. 
On the second full day of monitoring the prototype, Gaster led Alphys aside. 
“Is it alright if I leave you in charge here overnight? I should be back by morning.” 
“Uh-h what? I mean, sure, of course! We sh-shouldn’t need you, the prototype seems stable, but why?” 
“I made a deal with the spiders—” 
Alphys made an angry noise. 
“They threatened you? I knew they threatened you!” 
“No, no, no! Well, implicitly, slightly, yes; but this is something else entirely. They’re helping me as much as I plan to help them.” 
“With what?” 
“Checking on something in the Ruins. Most of the old passages are inaccessible to larger monsters, I think, but the spiders can get in and out—the only thing they have trouble with is traversing the cold of Snowdin. Their tiny small legs freeze before they can get across it, without help. I’ll be the help, and they’ll bring me news of what’s up inside, after they finish setting up communications with their kin. They want to establish a spider telegraph station! Isn’t that fascinating?” 
“U-um...? Okay? What’s in the Ruins?” 
“I’m not entirely sure yet, but I have an idea. I’ll tell you once I know, how is that?” 
“Alright. H-how are you getting there?” 
Gaster hated to say that he wasn’t 100% sure about that either. 
“...River.”

Later that evening Gaster walked into the mist at the bottom of a crevice some distance from the train tracks. There was an inlet of water there, warm and steaming. Desperately hoping he wasn’t crazy, he sat down at the edge of the water. 
Worst case scenario, he could try walking to town overnight and catch a morning train to Snowdin; trains didn’t come out here unless there was a special reason.... could he pull that off? 
Well, might as well try this way first. 
“Hey, Carl?” he said into the mist. 
Nothing. 
Yep, he was crazy. 
He couldn’t be crazy, other people knew about the Riverperson. And they had taught him songs, new songs he had never heard before. Could he have come up with all of that himself? Unlikely. Anyway—
 “Yes?” 
Gaster jumped. Carl’s dark cloak glided out of the mist. 
“Oh, hello.” 
“You look surprised.” 
“You didn’t show up the first time I called you.” 
“I’d just seen you five minutes before. Why would I? Besides, why should I appear every time you call me? That’s boring.” 
“Alright. But I’m glad you came this time because—” 
“You need a ride.” 
“Well, if you don’t—” 
“I knew it. Let someone get comfortable around you and they start asking for stuff. That’s the way with all mortals.” 
“You don’t have to accept my request if it is bothersome to you,” said Gaster. “You don’t have to grouse about it either.” 
“Oh, but it’s so fun.” 
Gaster waited expectantly. Carl sighed. 
“Get on.”

A wayle whyt ase whalles bon, 
a grein in golde that godly shon, 
a tortle that min herte is on, 
in tounes trewe; 
hire gladshipe nes neuer gon, 
whil y may glewe.

“Does it remind you of anything?” said Carl, finishing the song. 
Gaster nodded slowly. 
“Is this why we’re making this midnight excursion.” 
“Oh, it’s earlier than that.” 
“Not much. Why at night?” 
“To save time. I don’t want to spend more than a day gone, at most, and the spiders need time to work.” 
“The spiders?” 
“Oh, I forgot.” Gaster pulled up his shirt. There were spiders clinging to his backbone. “Spiders, meet Carl, the Riverperson. Riverperson... Spiders. I don’t actually know their names.” 
“I thought there was something odd about you. Frankly I was trying not to look too closely. What bizarre thing will you pull out of your body next?” 
“Who knows.” 
“So you’re transporting spiders to Snowdin.” 
“Past Snowdin, into the Ruins.” 
“The door is sealed.” 
“Precisely. They’ll go in, I’ll wait outside.” 
“What’s the package?” 
“Just something I’ve been working on.” 
“What, you’re going to slide it under the door and hope she notices?” 
Gaster was silent. 
“You are indeed. How amusing. Well, good luck with that. What sort of something?” 
“A dress. I figure she might need it if she’s been in hiding for so long. Stuff wears out.” 
“Mhmm.” 
Gaster twitched. He pulled up the neck of his turtleneck and spoke down it. 
“Please don’t tickle.” A few moments later he twitched again. “Hey. Uh, listen, you’re just trying to be funny and that’s cute but if you make me flinch and I fall off we might all drown. Skeletons don’t float and I’m not sure about spiders.” He paused. The disruption seemed to stop. “Thank you.” 
“I thought there was more to you than usual,” said Carl. “Why didn’t you declare the extra passengers?” 
“Oh! I forgot, you were rather brusque.” 
“True. Why this symbiosis?” 
“We made a deal. I’ll help them reach the door to the Ruins if they tell me what’s behind it.” 
“And deliver your notes for you. Are we in first grade?” 
“First grade of what?” 
“Spider note-passing school. Sing with me?” 
“What should we sing?” 
Carl hummed. 
“Pick a thing.” 
“I... uh....” 
“Don’t know that one.” 
“Taim Sinte ar do Thuamba.” 
Carl’s hood lifted a little. He said nothing, but threw his voice out into chill coils of sound over the water.

I am stretched on your grave 
And I’ll lie here forever 
If your hands were in mine
I’d be sure they would not sever...

Gaster let him finish the first verse before joining in. Carl let him take the melody and slid into high harmony. The boat was speeding up, the notes drifting back behind them in a gentle breeze—which, Gaster noticed, wasn’t flying past at the same speed as the water below. Carl seemed to have a bubble of lowered air resistance. Or something. It was something which had puzzled him before more than once, but he wasn’t sure how to ask about it.

He wasn’t sure how fast they were moving, but all at once there was snow, and the cold began to press down around him. Gaster sent a flush of warm magic through his bones, focusing on the lower spine, where the spiders clung. 
He saw the wharf zoom by. 
“We’re not stopping there?” 
“Nah. Another trail ends closer.” 
Perhaps a few minutes later the boat glided to a stop, bottom scraping slightly on the ice at the edge of the river. Gaster hopped off. 
“It’s snowed under, but that trail—if you can see it—should take you right up to the door. It winds a bit.” 
“Thank you greatly!” 
“You are welcome greatly. Take care of yourself in the cold. Skeletons can be bothered by it as well.” 
“I will!” 
He turned back, and Carl had already faded into the mist. Gaster sighed, pulled his coat close around him and started walking through the deep snow.

A/N: wellllllpp at least it wasn't... four months??, this time. 

I honestly think I could just hibernate for at least a year if I let myself but that's not getting things done my dudes 

HOPE THINGS ARE GOOD OUT THERE 

IF I CAN KEEP PUBLISHING RANDOM-ASS CHAPTERS THAT I SWEAR ARE FINALLY PROGRESSING TOWARDS TYING UP THE LOOSE ENDS ESTABLISHED LIKE MORE THAN A YEAR AGO NOW, YOU CAN DO YOUR THINGS!!1 DO THEM THINGS I BELIEVE IN YOU 

Songs 

A Wayle Whyt 
(context)

I Am Stretched On Your Grave

(Test #3 on meds hahaha...ha    we're still trying)
OK on this 
I may mention this in greater detail if/when it comes up in the story but I have had a great distrust of medication since being heavily medicated by a GENIUS doctor as a small child, because that surely doesn't just make the child more confused and scarily dissociated from their own still-developing personality, noooo it ~cures~ them of ???? idk man nobody actually knows just take the child tranquilizers so we don't have to put up with you being you because who you are right now is annoying 
*deep breath* 
Anyways. Weird to vent about this?? Here??? But what I'm saying is--it took me a bit to regain my trust of meds but I had a realization which I feel might be helpful. 
Handing out doses of drugs to people who don't really need them is Bad. It causes more problems than not. But. 
The problem with the above is, you're altering your personality. That isn't something that should be tampered with by external forces. 
Medication is however useful and very helpful if you're at a point where something else is already killing your personality and you need it to stop.
I hope that made sense?
Meds should be used lightly, to help free you from what's dragging you down, not for people who aren't broken, to 'fix' personality traits.) 

Was not planning on doing this here but hey maybe it'll help someone else. Accept who you are--but don't accept what destroys you from the inside. Burn that out if you have to. That doesn't mean betraying who you are. Never do that. But fight what wants to kill you. Sometimes it does come from inside, but that doesn't mean it's you. 

Chapter 42: Communication

In which *piercingly loud whistle-shriek* 

Alphys had dozed off leaning on the table. The sound of the coffeepot being lifted from its place brought her back.
“Oh, y-you’re up finally.”
Sans silently emptied the dregs of the coffee into his cup and downed it. His eyesockets were black holes of fatigue. Alphys began refilling the coffeepot. Sans was smart, and a good worker when he felt like it, but he wasn’t good for much in the mornings.
She was still trying to decide exactly how she felt about him. She trusted him a lot more than she had initially, but.
“Dr. Gaster isn’t, uhh, back. H-he told me he was planning on being back by now, but he’d try for lunchtime if he was h-held up, and in the mmeantime we shhould keep working. I sent the Kodama out for the morning check-ups.”
Sans grunted. His eyelights were starting to perk up.
“Anyway—”
“AAaaa.”
“U-uh?” They turned and squinted at the Kodama, standing stock still in the doorway. His eyes were even bigger than usual.
“Aah. A. Fire monster.”
“Hassen? What’s wr-wrong with—”
“No, not him, no, I... apologize for screaming. I was startled.”
Sans gave Alphys a skeptical aside glance.
“No problem buddy,” he said. “That wasn’t much of a scream. So what’s up?”

The Kodama had been singing quietly to himself while he jotted down notes, leaning out over the prototype, when suddenly a nearby object which he had assumed to be a flaming piece of debris and had ignored stood up to a roughly six-foot height and started walking towards him. It was definitely not Hassen, and he bolted without waiting to see what it was. They hurried back outside and found the figure standing on the stone in front of the lab.
“It’s out of the magma,” murmured Alphys curiously, “S-so, it’s not Hassen..”
“Uh,” said Sans, shading his eyes, “Grillby...?”
“.hello.”
“Grillby! What are you doing here... Naked?”
“.clothing is highly flammable.it’s easier to cross the magma fields without it.I apologize for startling you, smaller one; I had dozed off and it didn’t occur to me that you hadn’t seen me.you and I share similar blood, do we not?I sense you are connected to the elements.” The Kodama nodded eagerly.
“Yes, sir! And you—are you an elemental spirit? Really?”
“.I’m an elemental.really.”
“O-oh, oh! A real—of course! I... yes, s-so cool..” the Kodama lapsed into an embarrassed silence. Grillbz continued.
“...and Sans, is there any particular reason why you’ve been staring at my crotch for the past thirty seconds straight?”
There was a moment of silence. Alphys and the Kodama both looked at Sans, whose eyelights had gone out again, perhaps in an attempt to look like he wasn’t looking anywhere at all.
“Uh, no, nope, no reason at all. ..Sorry.”
Grillbz snorted.
“.this is why I wear clothing.no one’s used to seeing elementals anymore.where is Gaster?I came to help him with a problem.and clear some things up.”
“O-oh, h-he’s not here, but he left me in ch-harge for the day,” said Alphys, adjusting her glasses; “sorry. H-he should be back by lunch I think?”
Grillbz sighed. “.no good.I need to get back to Snowdin by then and open the restaurant.I can at least try to communicate with the other, anyway.he’s around here, right?”
“The, uh, other fire spirit?” said Sans.
“.yes.”
“Uh... Have you seen him today..?”
“.no need.if he’s in the area I can call him.but you may want to go inside.I wouldn’t want to damage your ears.”
“O-oh? I’d much rather stay, i-if that’s alright,” said Alphys, stuffing her claws into her earholes. The Kodama clapped his hands over his own ears, and Sans shrugged.
“Got no eardrums to damage, scream on my dude.”
Grillbz nodded, turned, walked to the edge of the magma and knelt. A moment later a sharp sound throbbed through the air. Sans felt it rebounding from the inside of his skull and clawed his hood over his earholes in a futile attempt to shut it out.
No wonder he was so confident he’d be able to reach Hassen.
Sure enough, a fountain of flame appeared far out in the magma. Then again. A little closer, and it became clear that it was Hassen, dolphin-leaping towards them. When he was within shouting distance he began chirping to Grillbz, swimming with his head above the magma. Grillbz whistled back—mercifully, not nearly as loud as the first time, though the sound was still piercing. Sans slowly removed his hands from where they’d been clutched at his earholes. The noises coming from the two fiery beings were all incomprehensible to him, but he could tell that Hassen was very excited to meet someone who understood him, and was doing much of the talking. Grillbz appeared to be giving brief answers to questions which piled one on top of the other, often interrupting a previous answer. Finally Hassen calmed down a little and spoke for some time. Grillbz answered, and Hassen gave a low whistle. Grillbz turned.
“.I found out why he’s spending so much time on the surface.I had wondered about that.”
“What’s he say?” said Sans.
“He’s looking for someone.”
“Who?” said Alphys, and
“What else? That was a lot of talking,” said Sans. Grillbz sighed.
“.now, how do I explain this to a bunch of small, crotch-fixated life forms?”
“S-sans, you make us all look bad,” said Alphys.
“I wasn’t! I mean! I just, zoned out with my eyes pointing at your crotch? You’re really tall! It’s practically on my eye level!”
“.Sans.please stop.I believe this is what they call ‘digging yourself deeper’.”
Sans paused. He thought he detected a note of humor in Grillbz’ voice.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“.me.what.no.surely I would never stoop so low as to laugh at someone of your stature and mental density.”
“Ouch?”
“.anyway.let’s see.easy answer, it’s trying to find a fusion partner it was on good terms with until recently, when the other went missing.it’s eager to hear from them because they had a young one incubating somewhere inaccessible to it, it wants to hear if they made it. ..elementals can reproduce through fusion, though it’s rare.elemental spirits are the same.”
“Oh.” Said Sans and the Kodama at the same time.
“Th-that’s fascinating,” said Alphys. “What’s the o-other elemental look like?”
“.spirit.it’s an air spirit.”
“A-air? They can, they can do that?”
“.elemental spirits have less variety but greater fusability than elementals.if I try to explain all I know about the two species we’ll be here all day and likely end more confused than we started.”
“O-oh. So have you seen her?”
“.the other spirit?no.”
Hassen began speaking again, and Grillbz listened, then replied.
“...though I’ve just promised to search for them.” He whistled something back. “.in my free time.what have I gotten myself into.”

Gaster woke slowly to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling.

The night before, he almost hadn’t seen the door until he was within arm’s reach of it. The wind had picked up and the snow filled the air. He used his shield to scoop it away from the bottom of the door, knelt, and shielded the area with his coat.
“We’re here, guys.”
The spiders reluctantly left the relative warmth of his spine and crawled out from under his sweater, down to the ground, and under the door. One paused and looked back at him.
“What?—Oh, the message! I almost forgot, thank you! Here.” He took the package, flattened it and pushed it as far under the door as he could, then watched it with one eye. Slowly it was pulled the rest of the way inside.
“Spiders are strong,” he remarked. Then he set about packing together a low wall of snow in front of the door to keep the wind from driving more snow under the door and blocking it, and to shelter it a little. When he was done he sat down close behind it and wrapped himself in his coat.
He wished he’d brought a coat with a hood. It took him a lot of energy to keep himself warm with magic, and he’d need to do it on the way back as well, so he stopped after the first couple hours. It wasn’t pleasant to sit in the cutting wind, but he didn’t want to leave, he needed to be there when the spiders got back.
Not having skin was convenient in one way: he couldn’t get frostbite. But also, it meant that the cold went right to his bones, and before long his entire body ached with it. He began rocking himself slowly, trying to think of something else, muttering verses as a distraction. He should have worn more layers. He should have built himself an igloo, or at least another wall to shelter from the wind. But there wasn’t that much snow on the ground, the wind was spinning it all up into the far darkness.
He fell over. It startled him awake, and then he realized that he’d been asleep. That bothered him a little, but he’d be fine, he was a skeleton. He curled himself into a ball, covering himself with his coat. This was nice. He felt warmer. He’d just stay like this, keeping as much of himself out of the wind as he could.

Then, what felt like a long time later, he awoke, in a bed, suddenly aware of how stupid that had been and wondering who had rescued him. Someone from Snowdin probably, but he was far outside the town. Anyway, they’d saved his foolish tailbone.—what time was it, where were the spiders? He hoped Alphys was doing alright.
He sat up slowly, hugging the quilt close to him. Warmth clung to it. Someone very skilled with fire magic had infused it with warmth. He buried his face in the softness. It smelled faintly of fur and cinnamon-butterscotch.
He pulled back and opened his eyes. There were bits of white fur on the blanket.
Oh.
He looked around the room and realized that he recognized it, from long ago. It was the king and queen’s room in their small house in Home. He slid out from under the covers and stood. A desk and chair, a bookcase, and a sad-looking cactus in the corner. But the smile fell from his face as he realized that the floor needed to be swept and a piece of paper which had fallen outside the wastebasket had been left there. Toriel was always neat. He didn’t like this.
He walked towards the door, bare feet clicking on the floorboards. He looked down and realized that he was wearing a purple quilted dressing gown, a little frayed at the sleeves, in place of his coat—which had probably been caked with snow by the time she’d found him.
He entered the hallway and looked around, at a loss for where to start. He knocked lightly on the next door, then opened it. He caught a glimpse of another bedroom, dark and empty, started to close the door, then paused. He opened the door again.
It was a child’s room, the bed only about the length of his arm (which, granted, was very long.) There was a soft, colorful rug in the center of the floor and a box of toys. He took a step into the room and stared.
They had all been children. All the souls Asgore had taken had been taken from children. Had they all come through here? At least one of them must have stayed long enough that Toriel had fixed this up as a child’s room. It had just been a small guest room before, they hadn’t had their child until after they moved to New Home. Then... how many of the children which had eventually been killed and stuck in jars had stayed here first?
A quiet sound made him turn. It was Toriel, dressed in black. Otherwise she looked just as he remembered her in her days as queen, tall, solidly built, with kind eyes and soft fluffy ears. Well—she did look different. Her fur was a bit disheveled, and she looked tired.
“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing that he didn’t need to ask. She nodded, began to speak then stopped and held her arms out.
“Gaster.” He stepped into her arms and was startled at the desperate strength of her hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
A few moments passed, then she took a deep breath and stepped back, holding his shoulders.
“Come sit down, I made some tea.”

Tea, naturally for Toriel, included a freshly-made pie. There was an arrangement of dried flowers on the table, and a warm fire crackled in the fireplace, filling the air with warm, cozy magic. Gaster breathed it in and a whirl of emotions tugged at his soul—nostalgia, loss, joy, the strange feeling of being a stranger in a familiar place.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” said Toriel. He nodded, searching with his hands for words.
 “It’s... quieter here now.”
“Yes. But not too quiet. Not all of the monsters left, you know.”
“Don’t they mind having the door sealed?”
“No, that’s only the main door, scarcely any of them ever used it to begin with—most of the monsters here are very small. There are cracks and passages that monsters who’ve lived here for a long time know of, that wouldn’t be apparent from the outside.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
“Few of them leave, though. Many of them were originally deterred from the trip by the cold of Snowdin, and so they stay here. It’s nice. We’ve developed our own culture in isolation—we’re not completely cut off, you understand; some do get out, though I try not to show my face around the monsters from the main caves, it causes a stir. I hope you’ve been more a part of society! Tell me, how have you been?”
“Ah, actually, I’ve been isolated too for much of this time.”
“Did Asgore finally let you move to Waterfall?”
“I didn’t ask him, I just went and built on an island.”
“Good for you,” said Toriel sardonically. Then she coughed and sipped her tea. “I’m still angry at him.”
“I’m sure.”
“So, not much activity in your part of Waterfall?”
“Ah, no. Well—” he described the magic he’d used to isolate himself. Toriel listened, eyes widening.
“You put that much effort into getting a little privacy?”
Gaster thought of reminding Toriel of where she was hiding, but that was different. She was the queen, everyone in the Underground wanted her back, including first and foremost her husband, who happened to be the king.
“I wasn’t entirely in my right mind at the time, so yes. I... kind of broke away from everything for a long time and just lived out there.”
“How long?”
“Aaaah.” Gaster counted on his fingers. “I’m not sure because it’s very hazy, but I think... Four... hundred... ish...?”
“Four hundred years?”
“Ish. Rounding down, it’s got to be a bit more than—”
“Wait, four hundred years of living in Waterfall, or of living only in Waterfall?”
“As I said, it’s, it’s not... yes. The second one. Don’t worry, I do get out more these days. It took that long to get my thoughts in order.”
Toriel looked doubtfully at him.
“You do seem calmer.”
“Well, I have just had a near-death experience, that tends to be rather sobering,” smiled Gaster. Toriel nodded.
“Well, yes, perhaps calm isn’t the right word,” she mused. “More... alert?”
“I feel more unified in my thoughts.”
“I’m not sure I understand, but you look like you’re doing alright aside from your face, so I’m happy for you. Really though, don’t isolate yourself completely. I know it might sound like hypocrisy coming from me, but you do need someone to talk to.” Gaster nodded. “On the subject of your face, was it damaged by the cold?”
“No, no. It’s been like this for a while.”
“It wasn’t quite that stiff the last time I saw you, was it?”
“No. It seems I’m getting old.”
“Alas, we both are.” She smiled.
“You look almost the same.”
“Almost?”
“More tired.”
“Tired, yes, that does sum it up rather well. Oh! Thank you for the dress, I did need a new one and it’s hard to get enough fabric out here.”
“I thought that might be the case. I hope you like it and it fits and, everything, I don’t... I was just sort of guessing what you’d like based on... the impression I got of what you liked four hundred-ish years ago, which I may not remember all that well anyway.”
“I do like it. Although I didn’t look at it very well, hold on—” she got up, went to the kitchen and returned with the package. A fold of deep purple fabric was visible, emblazoned with the Delta rune. “I was quite lost as to who could have sent it at first. The spiders don’t speak loudly enough for me to understand. How did you manage to befriend them—? Anyway, I guessed it was you from the inscription.” Gaster cocked his head at the embroidery worked into the outer lines of the Delta rune. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the peacemakers, they shall be called children of God. “An old favorite of yours, isn’t it?” he nodded. “It does seem appropriate. Thank you.” He nodded happily. She unfolded the dress and another piece slipped out onto the floor. The outfit was in two pieces, a comfortably loose white robe with embroidered purple surcoat, both in very strong, sturdy, but soft fabric. Toriel rubbed it between her fingers and then pressed the folds to her face.
“Gaster, you’re a better dressmaker than I am.”
“Oh—ah—I just—thank you. I had a long time to practice.”
He’d made tiny vests for kittens after he’d lost a litter to cat flu due to the constant chill and damp of Waterfall.

Toriel still had her face sunk in the folds of the dress and he thought she might be crying. He fiddled uncertainly with his hands for a few moments, then sipped his tea and focused on the pie. It was an excellent pie. Toriel lowered her hands and blinked several times.
“It’s been so long since... well, since there’s been any gift-giving out here. None of—well.” She thought for a few moments. “Hold on, I want to give you something, too!” She bolted from the table.
“No, really, I—hold on—your tea will get cold,” said Gaster lamely as she disappeared down the hallway. She returned in a few moments and pressed a small, uneven, smooth object into his hand. He cradled it carefully to keep it from slipping through his hands and looked at it. It was a lump of opaque gold-orange amber, about half the length of his thumb.
“Toriel!”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it, but this is a precious thing. Don’t give me this.”
“Nonsense. It’s a pretty bauble, and it reminds me of you. I want you to have it. Is it my imagination, or does it feel warm to the touch?”
“It... it does. Thank you. I will treasure it.”
She smiled as he lay it beside his plate where he could look at it, but then her smile clouded.
“Have...”
“Yes?”
“Have they all been killed?”
“...Four human children. Yes.”
“All, then.” She sighed. “And after all, I’ve done nothing.”
Gaster stared at the amber for some time, searching for words.
“I don’t... I don’t think so. Anything counts. Just because you couldn’t save them... you tried, and—did they stay here?”
“Yes, some for a few days, some only for a few hours. They were all too eager to return home.”
“Understandable. But you cared for them as long as you could. That’s all you can do.”
Toriel nodded.
“Do you remember what you said about the orange trees?”
“...I do.”
“Do you still believe that?”
“I don’t know if it was from the past or future or only a dream, but—yes. For my part, I do.”
She nodded, cradling her tea in a paw.
“I’m glad.”  

 

Notes:

(His house was supposed to be unfindable by outsiders, but it could be stumbled across by someone who explored Waterfall diligently, as Shyren did. She had known where it was for some time but had mostly stayed away. Her own reclusiveness made her respectful of others’ boundaries.)
-Ch. 24

I think this is the only place in-story where I’ve discussed Gaster’s hella-hard-to-find island. But I HAVE mentioned it.  And here we hear a bit more about it. It’ll be discussed more later if I get there (to the later.) We’ll see. We’ll hope. And try to keep writing.

It's been three-ish months but I’m finally back! And it is summer, and after testing a bunch of problem-causing and only-slightly-helpful meds I’ve got a good reaction to 5-HTP and I’m feeling a lot better! This past week I’ve even been doing writing again finally!! It’s been far too long, but I feel like I’m getting back into the swing of things, and the Third Annual Summer Wordcount War is occurring and Camp NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow, so I have motivation to do at least a couple more chapters before the fall. That’s what I’m aiming for, hopefully I can actually make some good progress, there’s a whole new arc I want to introduce soon and some things got resolved and some other things just got started in this one chapter alone and aaaaa

Anyway, I’m amazed and super happy whenever I see that people are still reading this, and some of them have been here for a long time or even from the beginning (I marvel at your dedication) and some people are new and just. It makes me super happy to see that people are still enjoying this, I will attempt to keep it going.

DETERMINATION!