(AUTHOR NOTE: F*CK i'm sorry that was WEIRD- i fixed it though! I did fix it! Please don't kill me!)
Somewhere deep in snowdin woods, past towering pines and cracking streams, Sans leans back against a cracked purple door.
He's actually smiling like he means it for once, hands shoved in hoodie pockets as snow pelts down on him like freezing rain. It's much stronger than usual, but he doesn't mind. It's worth it, for her. His friend behind the door. It feels good to talk to her again, though, it always does. After… everything, he just needed some normality- it's hard to explain, but something about talking to her just makes him feel like maybe things are gonna be okay.
He needs that right now.
"Why, my friend, it certainly sounds like you have had a very exciting week!"
The lady from behind the door laughs, a smile in her slightly muffled voice as sans chuckles in return. He, of course, has not told her the whole story- yet. He's been careful to be vague… it's not like it's really polite to dump a shitload of paradoxes on someone who's face you've never seen.
"you have no idea."
Sans replies, snow pelting his skull as the wind picks up. You really only get wind in the underground when there's a storm- one of the downsides of the core was that it has steam outlets all over the underground…it's useful some places, like in hotland, where it serves to keep the air humid enough for monsters from other caverns to breathe- but in snowdin, it can form wailing blizzards like the one sans finds himself in now. Storms like this can completely bury snowdin- that's how it got its name, 'snowed-in town'. The king is…pretty bad at names. The wind howls past him, and sans shudders, pulling his hood up against the biting cold. Damn, the kid was right, skeletons can get chills…
"Oh dear, it sounds like there is a dreadful storm out there- you had better be wearing the proper layers!"
His friend behind the door worries, her voice as kind and motherly as ever. Sans smiles, man, she sounds just like Bell…guess that's where the kid learned her 'disapproving mom' voice from. He should probably actually tell her that the kid is staying with him, if only he could figure out how. Well, he did promise her he would take care of Bell- but how exactly does he break the news that her kid is a sorcerer that basically saved his ass and fixed a basic flaw in the construction of his soul while risking getting impaled in the process?
"pfft, dontcha worry, I'll be fine- it's snow problem, after all."
sans puns, grinning at the usual burst of heartfelt laughter. Her laugh rings through the stone, full and genuine- more genuinely happy than sans has felt for a while. But, talking to her always gets him pretty close…he grins despite himself, feeling warm despite the cold and drawing his knees up against his chest as the howling snow tries to steal the warmth from him.
"Oh my- you always know how to make a lonely old monster smile! But truly, are you sure you are alright? That storm sounds quite fierce!"
The lady behind the door asks warmly yet worriedly, sans just chuckling and replying over the howling wind;
"yeah, I'll be okay- I'm a bit tougher than I used to be, heh."
Sans replies, remembering the days when he would've been paranoid about being hit with a flying branch or something in a blizzard like this- but now he can afford it, it's a no-brainer, literally. He chuckles. No-brainer- that's a good one.
"How do you mean?"
His friend asks, her voice politely curious. Sans blinks, Well, here's your chance, he thinks to himself, tell her. Then, taking a deep breath- and regretting it since it's hella cold- he begins.
"Well, y'know that human you told me about?"
He asks, straining to hear himself over the howling wind.
"…Yes? What about them…?"
His friend behind the door asks, her voice hesitant, sans almost physically feeling her tense up through the stone.
"They, uh…kinda saved my life."
There is silence for a long moment. the snow howls on, trees creak in unnatural wind…the forest moves on with itself, as the small skeleton waits anxiously for an answer. Then, unable to bear the silence, sans starts again, filling the empty air with rushed words.
"they- I mean, well, don't get me wrong lady, they're incredible. Bell, what she did, she- didja know that kid can heal? Like really, really heal-"
Sans takes a deep breath- stop rambling, he tells himself sternly,
"she…" sans takes a deep breath. "…Look. I never had all that much HP. Heh, I barely had one, but… well, the royal guard came after her, and when I got in the way, I…got hurt. It wasn't the guards fault, I was pretty much made of glass at the time, but bell… She didn't have to come back for me. She could've just run away, she could've done nothing, but this kid-"
Sans puts a hand to his forehead, leaning back against the door and chuckling,
"-she ran right back into spear range for me."
He laughs, smiling a little despite himself. "Can you believe that? This tiny little human kid, runnin' into danger for me…" Sans sighs.
"She healed me, and a whole lot more on top of that. Somehow…" Sans pauses, shrugging even though he knows the old lady can't see him, "…She gave me more Hp. Now, I checked- she ain't given me any o' hers, no, she just…up and broke all laws of nature, just for little ole' me, heh…"
Sans chuckles, watching the snow fly down in sheets of flickering white.
"the very least I could do was take care of her."
Sans falls silent, waiting. He waits, as behind the door, an old queen holds a snow white paw over her mouth, trying to withhold the tears threatening to fall. The…the child is safe- and now, in the care of her friend- perhaps this time, this child might stay safe. As long as she is in his care, things...might be different. Yes, yes he…he will protect her. she swallows hard, holding back the tears and wiping her eyes as she takes a deep breath and asks:
"S-so she…is truly safe…?"
She asks, her shaking voice muffled through the stone as sans starts to attention at the grief there.
"y-yeah! o' course she is- I promised ya, remember? i don't go back on promises, s' one of my rules."
Sans replies quickly, sitting up as the snowstorm pounds against him.
"I- I am sorry, I just…" Behind the door, an old queen smiles, tears of relief rolling down her fur despite herself. "…I am very glad to hear that."
She whispers through the stone, a shaky smile on her face as she wipes away the tears.
Then, of course, she has questions.
Time has passed, and Sans still sits shivering in the snowstorm, hood pulled up over his head- but it's kinda too late to back out now. He's been sitting here for over an hour now, answering the many questions of the lady behind the door. The snow whips at his clothes, but he doesn't particularly care- after all, he's been living in it all his life, he's used to being chilly. And telling this motherly monster all about possibly the kindest kid he's ever met? Well, that's no challenge, in fact, it's a pleasure. He chuckles at the worried interrogations of where she's been sleeping, was she warm enough, has she been eating well? Did her tooth heal well, is the royal guard still looking for her, is…sans's eye sockets begin to drift shut, his eyelights flickering, before he snaps himself back awake. This is no time for a nap…he's…gotta get to alphys's, right…? He cant…sleep…
But it seems like he doesn't have a choice.
The cold creeps across him in a way it hasn't before, in a way it shouldn't. His marrow freezes, and his eyelights flicker faintly, snow rising higher around him as if it means to swallow him whole. it's piling fast. Too fast…
"Hello? My friend? Are you alright?"
Sans faintly recognizes her voice, and mumbles something, trying to wake himself up, shivering. A small snowbank has formed around him, the snow swirling hypnotically in the small slit of open air he can see, framed by his hood. The snow piles up to his ankles and still rises higher, the flakes piling higher and higher. sans shivers, ice creeping across his hood, his eyesockets flickering open and shut.
"just…five minutes…"
he mumbles distantly, his shoulders slumping forward a little into the snow as he drifts off into blackness.
"M-my friend!?"
The voice calls worriedly, but sans can't exactly answer, considering he's almost completely buried in powdery snow. The blizzard howls against the door, icicles cracking from the distant cavern roof and disintegrating into a shower of icy pellets that begin to hammer into the stone slabs. This is the worst snowstorm snowdin has had in many years- and sans has picked the wrong night to fall asleep outside. The million shards of ice falling from the inky cavern roof are enough to kill him, with time.
His HP is already ticking down.
Mini icicles hang from sans's hood, the fabric now stiff with frost as the wind howls and pounds, sans laying silent and still as his mind drifts deeper into darkness. Minutes pass. The worried cries from behind the door do not cease. More minutes pass- fifteen, then twenty, snow piling higher.
Then, the centuries-old door slowly cracks open.
A strip of warm golden light slices through the blizzard, a snow white paw on the edge of the slab the only thing interrupting its flow as the door creaks open a little wider. A white muzzle sticks out, then the elderly and elegant face of the queen- Toriel- emerges into the wild snow. Her rosy eyes dart around, slightly nervous, until they suddenly land on sans's huddled form, barely a lump of disturbed snow in the rising flood of white. With a shocked gasp of
"Oh my goodness!"
The queen frantically scoops the unconscious sans up into her arms, snow falling away in thick clumps as the frozen fabric of his hoodie crackles against her warm robes, his bones shivering and clicking limply in her arms. Her long velvety ears whip in the ravaging wind, snowy fur rippling, and she takes one glance out into the darkness of snowdin forest- considering it. She remembers the way. She could see the child, she…she sighs, looking up into the dark underground sky, before turning and returning into the warm lavender of the ruins, sans limp in her arms as the door creaks behind her-
-and swings shut.
Elsewhere, Gaster is pacing outside the gray door, looking up at the dark sky every so often and buzzing with nervous energy.
Where is Arch taking so long? What's going on? Too many questions, not enough answers. He glances nervously towards crooks, who is curled in a loose ball of fabric and fur nearby, just inside the door of the gray room. Gaster now knows he is capable of regaining consciousness, the feline monster having woken up briefly when gaster had tried to remove him from the gray room- but He'd immediately gone into some sort of shock, even as gaster had attempted to calm him down. Eventually he had slipped back into unconsciousness when returned to the room, but not before his claws had snagged on one of Gasters cracks, chipping away a little of his eyesocket. Gaster winces, and his hand goes up to the chip, which still stings.
Poor crooks… gaster thinks to himself worriedly, it's like he's in some sort of self induced coma. I wonder if that's actually possible…direct interference with the patterns of a soul has been known to make it shut down, after all. Mixed lineages often crops up irregular reactions as well…perhaps that is what this is?
Gaster wonders to himself like this for a few more minutes before finally stopping, his nonexistent brow furrowing. He sighs. Nothing he can do right now, not without the right equipment…he turns nervously to stare at the passage on the far end of the cave.
Still no sign of him…
Gaster wishes he still had feet, or legs, so he could tap- all that nervous energy has nowhere to go now…he cringes, the thought once again reminding him of his state. It was easier to ignore when he was simply floating through the void, but now, not so much. He misses his limbs. He misses his life. I miss being me. He thinks bleakly, and his hand drifts upwards, gaster once again staring at it blankly, the familiar hole still there in his palm- but the wrong amount of fingers. When that incomprehensible nightmare had scared him back into a physical shape, he hadn't come back exactly the same. Two of his fingers had merged, and the tips of them are…sharper, he thinks with a wince, flexing his fingers, now four on each hand and uncomfortably sharp.
He sighs and lets his hands drop, trying not to think about where the rest of him might be. Is there a random femur stuck somewhere out there? Does some spacetime deity use a bunch of his spinal plates as coasters? Is his ribcage somebody's lamp? He shakes his skull hard, flinching as his chipped eyesocket stings. He closes it fully, and groans as he finds the chip is big enough to let light into his skull.
Well, that's going to take some getting used to…He thinks, feeling the spot with one hand, Along with the whole not being able to talk situation.
He thinks, his hand moving to his neck vertebrae as he cautiously opens his mouth, trying to- a harsh garble of vowel sounds emerges, and he snaps it shut with a grimace. It is getting slightly better with time- some of the symbols have returned through the garble- and it's not like it'll keep him from communicating in the meantime, but…still. It's hard for him, after losing so much of how he used to be, to lose that too.
Like I'm just finally falling apart…
He realizes, and shudders. He doesn't even know whether he's still truly himself anymore- the thought of whatever he is now just…breaking down entirely? somehow even more terrifying. He sighs, searching for something else to think about.
Papyrus.
He smiles reflexively at the name, his expression softening as he remembers the bright and bubbly son of his. So cheerful, and so tall too- he'd been up to gasters shoulders at the age of twelve! Gaster smiles proudly to himself. He got that from his grandfather, Gaster's own father, Semi. Thinking back, Gaster can quite clearly remember how extraordinarily tall his father was, enough that he often had to duck under door frames- he wonders, how tall would papyrus be at this point?
Probably on level with me now, heh…
Gaster thinks, proudly yet sadly. He's missed so much time…and he has no idea if his boys are even okay, not really. that internal communication with sans, that was…well, gaster can't trust his own mind anymore. In a place like this, even your own brain can turn against you. The dreamshare with him, now that's slightly more plausible. All skeletons in the same family can enter eachothers dreams, albeit only when physically close…that's why it's a tradition for siblings to share a room when young. But, regardless, his own case is unusual, to say the least…
It could've happened, I…I hope it happened.
He thinks, a hand drifting up to rest on his own dark chest. Inside, his soul pulses gently, surrounded by a faint red glow, his own purple-green traits shining deep inside. Far away, past barriers of static, two other souls glow strongly. Sans, with a cyan beat that feels oddly faint, and papyrus… Gaster smiles to himself. As always, his youngest son is radiating positivity. At least that will never change. His hand lowers, and he looks up to the dark sky, frowning slightly. For some reason, it feels like there's a third soul now, pounding some intense emotion…He shakes his skull. He's probably just imagining things.
After all, he only has his sons.
Meanwhile, Archemedies is staring up at a similar dark sky, and wondering whether he should just give up on understanding anything these days and just go mad.
He's been conscious for…maybe a few minutes now, and so far, it isn't any easier to make out what's happening than the last time. His head hurts like hell froze over, his entire chest is smoldering with needling pains, and black spots dance dizzyingly in his vision- but all that he understands quite well. In some ways, the pain is the least of his worries. He stares at the dark stone ceiling above him, on which a skeleton is standing. She's not tied there. She's standing.
She's standing on the ceiling, and she's singing.
"…¡Increíble y genial! Oh, sí, soy muy increíble," She's belting out in a jovial manner, rummaging in the various piles of junk which also seem to be boycotting gravity. "¡Tan increíble que los bastardos, de la sombra tienen miedo de respirar!"
He understands nothing of what she's saying. It might as well be WingDings to him.
"¡Les dicen a sus pequeños bastardos que se callen todos los días!"
Okay, maybe he understood "bastardos". But that's quite easy to puzzle out. She sings loudly and (thankfully) not entirely badly, her long dress swirling around her ankles, a dark cloak thrown to one side minutes earlier now hanging limply over a cluster of what looks to be umbrellas. She plucks out a large glass jar from the broken face of what looks like a grandfather clock, and taps it twice, humming a few bars of what must be the chorus of her irregular tune.
"En caso de que los esté escuchando, pero lo hago, ¡y de todos modos les exploto el cerebro en pedazos!"
She resumes, loudly, Archemedies watching in resignation from the…floor? He feels like he's on the floor, but from the way she and everything else on the 'ceiling' are acting, he might well be the one disobeying gravity. No, he thinks to himself through a good dose of pain-fog, still not entirely conscious, I don't do that. I'm a physicist, not a soprano…And as if in agreement, the skeletons singing grows louder once more, Archemedies grimacing slightly at the splitting sound.
"Porque son tontos, y no saben que soy increíble... ¡y tan muy, muy mortal!"
He tries to move. This proves shockingly unsuccessful, and he lets out a pained breath, ribs aching with each inhale. His tail is badly bruised, and his leg is completely numb- Archemedies is honestly unsure whether he should be relieved, or terrified. He stops trying, exhausted, and resigns himself to his fate. At least maybe, at some point, she'll look up and notice my eyes are open… he thinks bleakly, watching her toss the jar hand-to-hand as she sings. It looks like there's something scuttling around inside…
"El segador sombrío es mi primo, pero solo lo llamamos Bob," she's singing, a grin spread across her skull. It's slightly transparent, he notices, before realizing with a start she just said 'bob'. Why on earth is she singing about a 'bob'?
"¡Porque soy mucho más mortal que él!"
She finishes, grandly, sitting herself down at a battered-looking chest of drawers with the drawers removed, which seems to be an improvised desk. There's a lamp on it, and to Archemedies surprise, she casually flicks it on. He squints in the sudden glare coming off the many pages strewn across its surface, and blinks, watching as she places the jar beneath the glow. How is there electricity here? Her head is now bowed, blocking whatever it is she's doing, and His eyes flick to the wall directly behind the 'desk', and sees pages upon pages stuck to them- most of them covered in scrawled writing, though others contain sketches of unfamiliar faces, or scribbly maps of hotland with various areas circled.
However, directly under the lamp glow, there are two sketches in particular which are carefully tacked onto the wall. They are positioned right where eye level would be for anyone sitting at the desk, right in front of the skeletons bent-over head. He squints at the faces, trying to make them out.
Is that…Gaster? Archemedies realizes with a start, And Grillby?
Archemedies blinks, trying to focus on the images. Yes, definitely- Gaster on the left, Grillby on the right. Gasters sketch has on his familiar "I'm about to do something dumb" grin, and Grillbys looks like he's in the middle of laughing- probably drawn from the same memory, all things considered. But how would this skeleton know them? How could she know them both well enough to draw them so accurately?
Sure, they both look a little off, as if the artist couldn't quite remember some details, but the feeling of them is there- even though Archemedies hasn't seen grillby in over thirty years, this drawing is enough to bring a few more nostalgic memories popping back into his head. Do I…know her? He wonders, squinting at the skeleton below him, his mind finally beginning to rev back into motion.
And then, abruptly and with an undignified yelp, Archemedies falls straight off the ceiling.
He hits the floor with a starburst of pain, the skeleton yelling a surprised "¡Santo joder!" As she spins, the jar crashes to the floor with a smash, Archemedies feeling his cracked ribs scream with pain as the skeleton cries out once more, a few stray shards thwacking against his scales. Everything hurts. Everything hurts.
"¿Estás- wait, shit, shit shit shit no get back here you little-"
Archemedies does not want to be hearing things right now. He just wants to lay on the hard, unforgiving stone floor, and be in pain until the pain stops paining. However the skeleton has other ideas, and is being very, very loud about something, boxes falling around him as Archemedies burns, motionless on the floor, with pain.
Herman herself is certainly not motionless. She continues diving madly after the small, void-dark shape skittering around the junk-filled room, trying desperately to catch it- Why the hell did she drop it, she's running out of jars! It skitters under boxes, a UHO (unidentified hard object) cracking Herman on the skull as she swears vibrantly in three languages, diving after it again and again as the lizard she really should be dealing with right now lies motionless on the floor, concerningly not-alive looking. Uh oh.
"You better not be falling down right now, Lagarto!"
She screeches at him, this (debatably somewhat derogatory) nickname earning her a moderately-annoyed tail flick. She dives after the blurring dark shape once again, and crashes into a pile of junk, her hands closing over nothing. She swears, pivoting after the disappearing blur. Stupid little thing! How's it so fast? The bigger ones certainly aren't! She struggles to track its tiny, zigzagging path, realizing too late it's-
Archemedies is suddenly very aware of two rows of tiny teeth clamping down on his snout.
That's it.
His eyes snap open, and Herman yells something along the lines of "ah f*ck!" Her hands flying up to shield her eyes from the blinding flare that's just exploded from Archemedies scales, electricity blast-burning the tiny shadow clamped onto his nose with pure magical energy. It's entire soda can sized body fizzles, it's eyeless face scrunching up as its little limbs stick out pole-straight, the vibrating buzz of voltage thrumming through the room, slowly building as Herman swears under her breath and dives behind a box for cover. Good thing she did, too, because If someone had been standing outside the cave entrance- which they were not- they would've seen an explosion equivalent to a lightning strike burst from inside and sear the rock black, a huge booming sound ringing through the cavern.
Basically, if someone had been standing outside, they would have been barbecued.
Clouds of smoke roll out in the dead silence that follows, Archemedies still lying exactly where he had been, glaring daggers at the frazzled void-black critter with its teeth still sunk into his nose. Herman slowly pokes her head out from behind the box, her nonexistent eyebrows raised as she ogles at him, kind of impressed.
"…Y'a done?"
She asks eventually, and Archemedies arctic glare rounds on her.
"Yes."
He growls through clenched teeth, the critter still clamped down on his nose. The skeleton grins at him, and straightens up, brushing herself off and walking over. His eyes track her as she crouches and grabs a jar from nearby, convincing the tiny shadow-bastard to release his snout by way of a sharp yank.
"Welp, good," she remarks, "because we gotta go."
She says, scooping the critter into the jar and screwing the top on with a small scratch of metal on glass. Archemedies lifts his head and stares at her, his expression murderous.
"You have got to be joking- I don't even know who you ARE!" He cries, glaring at her furiously. "We aren't going anywhere until you explain!"
He hisses, and the skeleton shrugs, placing the jar back into the grandfather clock, the soles of her sandals crunching on the broken glass. She turns back to him, bringing her hands together with a sharp clack and tilting her head at him condescendingly, the her expression the untarnished essence of 'boy have you f*cked up'
"After that flashbomb you just pulled?"
She tips her head back and laughs, sounding slightly to the left of sane, Archemedies glaring at her with pain spiking through his body.
"Amigo el chico, Arco, unless you wanna be dead in ten minutes, I'd suggest you just-"
Her voice fades from Archemedies mind.
He stares at her blankly, her name suddenly popping back into his head, shudders rolling up his spine. Arco is Spanish for "Arch". Herman has insisted on calling him that ever since she met him, all that time ago…
Oh f*ck,
Archemedies thinks to himself, stunned,
I do know her.
And with that, the memories overtake him.
'AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-'
Gaster is, currently, running for his life.
…Well, you wouldn't exactly call it 'running'- more like, 'gliding really really fast in the opposite direction of a shadowy monstrosity from hell screaming at ten thousand motherf**king decibels'.
…Either way, he's still being chased.
Why do things like this happen to me why do things like this happen to me why do things like this happen to me- gasters mind screams, hundreds of pounds of pure shadow leaping after him with a toothy grin. He's almost a blur as he leaves tiny drips of his own shadow behind him, the tiny drops ground into the gray dust by the huge, mangled claws of the mass of darkness hurling itself after him. It's frothing like a mad dog, black froth flying as it snaps behind him, gasters mind suddly washed blank by panic and fear and the primal will to live as its breath hits his neck. He zips around a tight corner and flattens himself against the wall, the wall of shadow rushing past him like a train, three bounds down the corridor before noticing he's gone- but by then gaster is already off, darting down a different passage, internally screaming and gliding for his life.
He's not even sure at this point how he's power-gliding this fast, but he certainly is not arguing as long as it keeps the snapping jaws behind him from closing around his battered soul. He pushes himself forward- justkeepgoingjustkeepgoing- and before he can blink, he shoots out into the harsh white glow of far-above lights, suddenly standing upon a huge ledge. It's edge cranes out into the massive dome of the main hotland cavern, a glowing gray where it sprawls out beneath him, gaster standing in the exact center of what feels uncomfortably close to an arena as the shadow roars after him.
Suddenly left with nowhere left to go, gaster pivots, finding himself staring down the maw of darkness itself, crammed with lipless teeth that burst directly from its unhinged jaw as a whipping tongue hurtles towards him.
Well, this isn't ideal.
-Is the last thought that crosses his mind, before his eyesockets flare a blazing rainbow of purple and green and suddenly there's a huge-
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
-And the toothed shadow is thrown backwards, an unholy screech emanating from its torn throat as a gaping hole sizzles in its neck, liquid shadow pouring in thick waterfalls like blood from the perfectly circular wound. Floating over gaster, a massive gaster blaster looms, a grinning coyote skull, jaw still smoking as gaster pants with effort. His eyes glow, purple and green clashing and spiraling into one another in his eyes as his barely-functioning soul slams wildly against his chest, the shadowed skeleton pushed to his limit by the sudden burst.
But the shadow isn't done yet. After all, how do you kill something that never lived in the first place? It hauls itself up with labored, rattling breaths, a rasping growl throbbing from its clenched teeth as it lowers its bleeding, eyeless head and slowly circles, gaster slowly turning with it to stay facing the abomination as his soul pounds violently to escape his chest. What is it? Why is it here? And most importantly, why me? He wonders desperately, as the huge mass of shadows circles him.
'g-good…doggie…?'
Gaster tries, still shaking, wavering as his hands tremble in the air. Gaster is not a bad fighter, in fact he's pretty good at it even for a boss monster- but he's spent the last thirteen years motionless in complete and utter darkness. His instincts aren't what they used to be, and neither is his endurance. He's not sure he can manage another shot like that. The…thing paces around him, a lopsided limp as the hole in its neck sizzles, it's body a shadowy mishash of different physiologies as it growls at him with crooked and cobbled fangs. Gaster feels almost sorry for it. It seems to be made to bring suffering to everything it touches, including itself. Where did it come from? What is it? And most importantly, why is it attacking him?
However, lost in his thoughts, gaster has become slightly out of sync with the creature. He lags an inch behind, and-
And that's when it leaps for him.
Gaster has barely any time to react, but still, he somehow does- a wall of bones coming up between him and the abomination, the impact jarring him to his melted, exhausted core. Then, there comes a splintering crack as its jaws cram themselves against the shuddering barricade- snapping, crunching, grinding fragmented mismatched teeth against Gasters last defense as he trembles with the effort of holding it. Shards of summoned bone fall, clattering to the stone, dissipating into lost magic as the toothed shadow gorges unfeelingly on the million knife-edged splinters beneath its maw. It's mouth is torn to shreds by the act, but it doesn't seem to care- pulling itself higher, higher, up the torn wall as Gaster shudders, dark claws coiling over the top edge-
It's head rises slowly, cresting the top of the wall with a smile, as Gaster finds himself- once again- about to be eaten.
But this time, when it leaps, he doesn't need to respond- because right at that moment, a blaze of orange electrifies the air. The color burns bright as firelight, a chorusing screech of;
"HELLOOOO BASTARDO!"
Ringing out, as….Someone screams gleefully. A skeleton too familiar for gaster to recognize shoots down like a bullet- Herman, a flaming orange scythe trailing sparks behind her as she brings it down on the back of the leaping shadow, flame and shadow colliding mid-air. The blow strikes savagely, a sizzling trench cut in the spine of the creature, it's left foreleg going dead in the air and dragging it off balance, it's jaws coming down on the bare rock barely a foot away from gaster- gaster, who's still curled behind the second (and admittedly pitiful) wall of bones he summoned, confusion racing through his mind. Herman dances gleefully in the air, orange bursting from her footsteps, cackling triumphantly in Spanish.
"¿¡NO SABES NO METERTE CON LOS ESPAÑOLES!?"
She roars in triumph, indignant background screeching coming from Archemedies, who's only barely clinging onto Herman's cloak. She darts left and right seemingly in midair, orange embers trailing behind her like a path of stars, the glow of magic he recognizes far too well pulsing through the stone. The scythe glows as if it's made of flames, held firmly in Herman's hands, which, like the scythe, are blazing with Herman's trait- Bravery. But how do I know that? Gaster wonders in utter confusion and fear, staring at Herman from behind his small barricade of bones. I've never seen this skeleton before in my-
A deep, rattling rumble comes from behind him.
Drip, drip, drip…drops of thick black blood stream from nearly everywhere on the creature now, and yet it still hauls itself to its feet, it's front left leg dead and dragging as its whole body leans slightly to the left. It's still alive. How the f*ck is it still alive? It's leg may be dead, it may have only have a spine, and yes, it may have a hole burned into its head- But there is absolutely nothing wrong with its teeth, and gaster suddenly finds he's getting a very close-up view of them as the creature lunges to swallow him whole.
Herman, of course, was not going to let that slide.
"DINGS!"
she screams, half rage, half fear- just as Archemedies lets out a terrified warning yell to the shadowed skeleton- but it leaves his jaws too late. Suddenly Herman is gone, Archemedies finding himself on the ground as the ghostly skeleton hurtles for her brother, framed by the unhinged jaws of the creature, Herman clenching the scythe in her hands and-
With a blaze of orange, she slices the creature in two.
With a wet squelch, the halves slowly slide off eachother, falling heavily to the ground and dissipating into wisps of darkness as Herman breathes hard, exhausted from the blow. Then, finally catching her breath, a huge grin slowly spreads across her reappearing skull, the rest of her body becoming visible as the scythe disintegrates into magic. She spins to face her brother, grinning as if her face might crack- finally, finally! Arco was right, he's here, she's finally going to see her broth-
Then, as she finally sees her sibling, her grin falls away.
His eyesockets are empty, the skeleton staring at her with a blank expression as Herman's gaze flicks across the cracks gouged into his skull. What-? Who did that to him, is he-
"Dings, Dings hey can you hear me? Dings? Dings hey it's me, it's- Dings!?"
Herman cries anxiously, grabbing gaster by the shoulders and shaking him roughly, staring worriedly into his blank eyesockets and getting no response as Archemedies finally hobbles up, huffing with exertion and asking worriedly;
"I-Is he okay!? What was that thing!?"
Archemedies asks worriedly, staring with wide white eyes at the unmoving gaster, whose eyelights are dim and faint, expression frozen in half-faded fear. But Herman does not turn to him. At first, she pays no attention, Archemedies beginning to be confused- still balancing on one leg and staring up at her with a worried expression. After a moment, Herman turns her head slightly, her hands still on gasters shoulders.
"…Archemedies,"
She asks, her voice crushingly hollow as she lifts her hand away slightly, the liquid darkness from gasters armless shoulder sticking to her palm as she turns to him, her eyelights slightly blurred by welling tears as she asks;
"…what happened?"
Her voice is quivering, and the grin is gone, the joy of reuniting with her sibling crushed by the warped state she finds him in. her eyesockets shimmer with tears as her hand shakes, slowly drifting down to her side, beads of darkness still stuck to the bones in her palm. Herman just stares at him, silently pleading for an answer, her expression haunted and desperate. Archemedies blinks, his eyes flicking from the threads, to her hand, to gaster, and finally to Herman herself. He doesn't know what to say. He knows and accepts gaster has been warped and affected by the environment he was trapped in- the topic seemed to make him uncomfortable, so Archemedies simply had not pressed it. He's a scientist, he knows the basics of why- probably- gaster is like this, but- Herman begins to tremble, and as she grits her teeth in sudden anger he realizes too late that he's been silent too long.
"What happened to my BROTHER Archemedies!?"
Herman demands, anger rising in her voice as her hands tremble, her skull starting to blaze with magic and fury as hot tears slide down her skull.
"Why is he made of ****ing Tarr-"
She waves at the liquid shadows dripping from gasters limp shoulders,
"-His skull practically cracked in two-"
She gestures to the cracks on his skull,
"-and where the hell-"
Herman cries, grabbing one of gasters limp hands and yanking it upwards to show off how very very prominent the nothing attached to it is, hot tears still streaming down her skull,
"-are his ARMS!?"
She snaps, glaring at archemedies with a fury unfathomable, her ghostly skull still streaked with steaming tears.
"I didn't fall into the ****ING CORE and get trapped in this hellhole only to finally see my brother again and have him like THIS- so you better goddamn EXPLAIN YOURSELF before i kick your spiney ass into the YEAR THREETHOUSAND!"
She finishes explosively, archemedies blinking at her, mind racing to process the new information. She also fell into the core? Is this a family curse?
"ARCHEMEDIES!"
He doesn't process it fast enough, apparently.
"H-He fell into the core while it was operating a timeline experiment and got trapped in the spacetime deadzone, jeeze!"
Archemedies answers in a startled rush, snapped out of his silence by Herman's yell. Herman's skull just blazes brighter, her expression still furious as she screeches;
"How the hell could my brother just 'fall' into his OWN DAMN CREATION!?"
She roars, skull ablaze, eyes burning.
"AND WHAT THE FLYING ***K IS A 'SPACETIME DEADZONE!?'"
She cries, her hands balling into fists as her cloak whips and ripples furiously, gaster still just standing there, face completely blank as Archemedies stutters something about 'never having really thought about it that way before' and 'could she please just stay calm'. During all this, gaster just stares on blankly, his dimmed eyelights frozen in pinpricks as he stands there, nearly statue-like. Now, usually I, as an omnipresent narrator, could read his mind so as to tell you, the reader, what gaster was thinking right at this moment- but there's literally just nothing there. In fact, I'd say gasters mind has gone completely blank. Now, most people who get their memories rearranged are just stunned for a while- but gaster has had so many memories rearranged all at once his mind has not just short-circuited, but burnt out entirely. After all, literally every single day that's ever shaped him as a person has been given an extra element, and, well, that's kinda like setting off a pressure bomb in your psyche.
The voices of Herman and Archemedies sound muffled, like he's hearing them through layers upon layers of water, thick and heavy as gasters mind makes the mental equivalent of a dial up-tone. Archemedies is explaining something about astrophysics, Herman interjecting with frustrated and confused questions and demands. That's right. She never was good at physics…a barrage of mildly traumatic school memories crash back, and gaster just keeps standing there, listening without listening to the conversation/argument raging on before him.
"But what does this have to do with why he's like that!?"
Herman is saying,
"And why isn't he moving!?"
She demands furiously, waving her hands wildly through the air as she speaks. Because I'm trying to remember you dumbass, a distant part of gasters mind replies, still frozen as the traffic-jam of memories within his skull creeps slowly forwards.
"Well I mean- we can only assume he's remembering you right now, so perhaps he's just overwhelmed?"
Archemedies suggests sensibly- and correctly- Herman just snorting and replying;
"Oh, please- I didn't make that much of an impact on him. I mean, how long has he been like that? An hour?"
Fifteen minutes, the same distant part of gasters mind replies, the metaphorical internal traffic jam of memories practically immobile,
"Speaking of which- those goddamn shadowy bastards are gonna be here soon, I mean if it's been an hour since-"
Fifteen minutes. the little voice in gasters bluescreening brain interrupts again, the memories more clogged than a dog groomers drain.
"-I cut that thing to shreds, then they should…probably already be here, actually?"
Herman finally finishes, her voice trailing off as she looks around in confusion. Still just been fifteen minutes, the little voice comments, it's presence doing absolutely nothing at all to help the rest of gasters brain, which is currently still trying to handle the barrage of memories assaulting him. Meanwhile, Herman and archemedies exchange a look, both apparently lacking a good enough grasp on time to tell it's barely been fifteen minutes, let alone an hour.
"Anyway, if any of us wanna live, we should probably get somewhere high up. the shadow bastards are really bad climbers- not that they don't try."
Herman comments, hand on her chin as archemedies raises one spined eyebrow,
"Is that our official name for them now? Shadow bastards?"
He asks, and Herman just shrugs, replying;
"That's what they are! Even you can't argue with me on that one. They are definitely huge pains in the ass."
Pains in the ass with claws, the little voice agrees, Archemedies just agreeing with her tiredly so as to continue the productive side of the conversation,
"If we need height, the roof of that housing complex near the core should do- but what I don't see is how we're going to get him there."
Archemedies observes with a wave of his tail in the direction of gaster, who is still very immobile, Herman just snorting and replying confidently as Archemedies regains his balance;
"Eh, it'll be easy! All I gotta do is pick him up and we'll be there in no time!"
She states confidently, Archemedies just giving her a world weary glance.
"…uh, I don't think he detaches from the ground."
Archemedies replies flatly, Herman blinking and looking gaster up and down, asking;
"Why? I don't see any reason why he can't. Well, he is a bit…sticky…but I'm pretty sure he can still detach."
She observes, shuddering a little and glancing at her hand, where tiny drops of black still stick to her. Her expression briefly flickers, momentarily flashing to worry, pain and hesitation- but her facade soon repairs itself as she hurriedly attempts to wipe her hand on her cloak and turns back to Archemedies, whose white eyes are widening with fear-
"Anyway, we really have to get moving- I mean, I just cut one of em in half, I don't see how we're not being mobbed ye-"
She just had to say it, the little voice comments, before every other part of gasters mind suddenly roars into action for the express purpose of tearing the shadow thing leaping for Herman's throat apart.
THWAM- K!
In case you didn't know, that's the sound of a shadow bastard being impaled through the skull. Herman, severely confused, stares in shock at the open jaws that had been about to rip at her skull- but now slowly slide down the sharp shaft of a razor edged bone with a wet squelch, impaled like a shish-kebab, the rottweiler sized body hanging limp. Then her eyes flick to gaster, who's breathing heavily, one hand still raised and trembling in the air, fully awake now, the siblings eyes momentarily locked as Archemedies gaze flicks between them.
But there's no time left for reunions.
Because just as herman and gaster (at the exact same time) open their mouths to speak, gaster sees something that causes him to freeze in his tracks. He stares at a spot just above Herman's left shoulder, terror in his eyes as Herman turns to see what has delayed him. But all she sees, her orange eyelights widening, is a tidal wave of toothed shadows.
And all at the same time, gaster, Herman and archemedies all whisper;
"[shit.]"
(AUTHOR NOTE:
This chapter was a bastard to write.
Heh, yeah. Sorry about the wait, but something happened lately, and I'm…let's say emotionally drained. Y'know how gasters life has progressively fallen apart? Yeah, that's a good metaphor for what's been going on for me lately. Regardless, I've still got a lot more chapters in me, especially since there's still like, I dunno six people following this or somethi-
Wait.
*squints at screen*
There…there are f*ckin thirteen of you now?
Uh…wow, Hi? How did you even get this far, the first like 15-20 chapters are literal trash. I mean…I should probably reward you somehow. Um. Uh…okay the only thing I can think of is basically just put your favorite headcanon in the comments and I'll…try to work it in I guess? I mean, I can't promise you anything because I am tired and gay, but I'll do my best out of respect for those brave souls who read my literal garbage. y'all are troopers, like holy shit...Oh, wait. I know.
I think I might have an appropriately cheesy and plot-detailing reward for you after all. I'll put it as the next chapter, heheheh…
P.S: credit to Thegoodtrashkingdom on tumblr for Herman's character design/concept! you can go see her in all her canonical glory there, in the wonderful Ask Frisk And Company webcomic, also dubbed on YouTube by starbot and camicat. No they are not paying me, I don't have that kid of luck :')
