gaster blaster master caster disaster

[voidster]

Out by the edge, near sunset, someone is doing Something Very Stupid. It isn't the first time. One can only hope it will be the last.

It's not the worst thing he could be doing. He's 99% sure it won't kill him--it's only magic. He's successfully regained some skill with bone attacks and extra sets of hands, so why has this been so difficult? He misses them, even though they're really nothing more than echoes of his own personality, not creatures of their own right. He created them. He perfected them. He's proud of them.

To anyone watching, he doesn't look like he's doing anything. Standing stiff and still, hands clasped behind his back, watching the sun go down. Until something nearly as tall as he is explodes into being, floating in midair.

And then...

He starts to melt. He's overreached, he doesn't have the energy to keep his shape together. Legs sag and fuse, fingers drip like pudding, face loses all detail. Two minutes later, he's nothing more than a sad, mostly shapeless whiteblack lump of goo in the dirt. The Blaster skull nudges at him, like a huge curious nightmarish puppy.

Worth it.

Comments

[trombones]

"Alright."

Sans steps out from wherever-he-was, as per his usual means of arriving to a scene. He doesn't seem all that surprise, much less worried, but there's a decent air of casual disappointment.

It's actually weirdly familiar. Something about Gaster, long nights, bad food. He doesn't remember, but he knows it's there. He lays a hand on the bigger blaster and looks down at his father.

"I think that's enough experimenting for the day."

[voidster]

Nowhere is safe from Sans. He was wrong to expect privacy, seems like. The goo stretches upwards, taking his head with it, as he tries to bring back a torso. It holds for a few seconds, rippling, before he collapses in on himself again. Horrible to be seen like this by Sans--he would have avoided this forever if he could have. Who wants to see that their own father has wound up such a mess?

The blaster's snout nudges Sans as gently as it can. Hello, hello, little skeleton.

Weak, shaky arms and hands emerge from the lump that is Gaster. [It's fine. I'm fine.]

[trombones]

"Uh-huh."

Sans obviously doesn't buy it. He doesn't feel like playing that old, tired game of 'I'm fine', 'no you're not', 'yes I am', etcetera. A slow side-eye watches Gaster as he tries and fails to put himself back together. There's a bit of exasperation there, same as the casual disappointment. He pats the blaster and looks up at it.

"Hey, buddy. Let's give the old man a break, alright?"

[voidster]

Such a nag, Sans. Think of that poor blaster, in limbo for all this time. There's a low buzz, a metaphorical sigh, coming from somewhere inside the puddle-man, before the gigantic skull vanishes back into the ether. It was nice while it lasted, all two minutes of proper magic. He's already wondering if it could have fired off a laser into the sky...

Sending it off is no miracle cure. He's unchanged. My, doesn't he feel disgusting. How's he supposed to move and find privacy again? Ripple along like a slug?

[Tired. Unharmed. I'll be alright.]

[trombones]

The blaster disappears, and Sans takes a seat by a large rock. You'd think that'd be a health hazard. Knowing how people came back from the dead around here, Sans half-wondered if pushing it off the edge would eventually bring it back, falling from the sky and onto some poor bastard's head. Probably his.

Whatever. He's pretend seeing his dad in a puddle.

It's sort of working.

"I got a feeling we've done this before. Without the dad puddle thing."

[voidster]

He ripples again, surging upwards to try and stand tall--to be normal, to look like himself--down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Each time a failure, each time lasting a second less. He could scream. He could cry. Why did Sans have to come along at this very moment?

He doesn't make a sound... or even twitch for over three minutes, calming himself down.

[Many, many times. Not everyone sleeps as easily as you do. Go along. I'll be fine.]

Go away. Stop seeing him like this. Stop tormenting yourself, kiddo.

[lostinmyway]

The sun is going home for the day. That means it's time to go look for a storybook to read to Sophie, and maybe Yukio as well. But first...maybe she'll go take a look at all the colours in the sky.

As Grune comes closer to the edge, she notices that--oh! She's going to have company. How nice!

But then some confusing things happen all at once and Dr. Gaster...lies down?

"Hello?"

[voidster]

The skull-thing bobs up and down in a nod of greeting. She's not registering as Enemy in the melted man's mind, therefore she will not be blasted away. No threats in sight, it can just... be.

Gaster--not really lying down, of course--raises a dripping arm weakly in his own hello when he hears her voice. Isn't this embarrassing. He could tell her to go away, but that's terribly out of character for him, so it's doubtful she would. The arm gloops back into his shapeless puddle-form, it was all he could do to keep it steady for a couple seconds.

[lostinmyway]

Grune gives a little wave to Dr. Gaster's friend, but she soon kneels down next to the big black and white puddle.

"Oh, my. Are you all right?"

[voidster]

The Blaster is sort of circling them, more aimless than threatening. It doesn't like to sit still, it wants to keep moving. Busy busy busy, always busy.

Well. Nothing to do but form more arms, exhausted already. Draining himself dry of spare magic didn't miraculously give him his voice back. He's still stuck with sign language. [Yes. Tired. Dead metaphorical battery.]

[dustless]

One minute he and the Blaster are alone, the next Frisk's dropping on the ground beside them.

"Oh my god! Gaster, you--you--what did you do?" Their hands are hovering somewhere above him, but they don't know if they should touch.

[voidster]

Where did they come from? What, can they shortcut now? Yeesh. A drooping, slightly misshapen hand forms a circle: A-OK here, see? The Blaster's floated back to give them both some space, bobbing a little. Frisk is also not an Enemy, they'll be left alone.

After a moment, he's formed sloppy arms to communicate properly with. It's eerie--they don't move like they should. Boneless black goopy things.

[Tired. Too much magic. But unharmed. Simply tired.]

[dustless]

(He's not the first person--or even the first skeleton--to wonder that.)

He proves he can communicate sensibly. They're slightly less tense.

Doesn't stop Frisk from pointing out "You're mush," sharply and crossing their arms. That doesn't look anywhere near 'unharmed'.

[voidster]

A pause. The hands and slimelike arms hang there, speechless. Miight as well reveal his secrets. No need to worry the child without any reason to. He starts to speak again, pieces of goo dripping off the arms back into his main puddle.

[I'm always made of this substance. Normally I'm able to shape it into something resembling my old self.]

[dustless]

Frisk...stares. What? Really?

For some reason, their first thought--and first question-- is: "How d'you sleep?" If he's a mushpile, then wouldn't he just...become a puddle if he wasn't paying attention?

[aghostinthemachine]

Mettaton seems to have an unnatural talent for showing up right when someone's needed in this place. And judging by Gaster's current state, if not his sons, then the glambot finding him is probably the best outcome. Needless to say, he hadn't been expecting to find the Gaster Blaster, let alone the poor scientist melted into a puddle. Mettaton gasps loudly and runs over.

"Gaster! What on earth happened?!"

And how the hell is he supposed to help him?

[voidster]

Everyone's a worrywart. Although it's justified in Mettaton's case--he's probably wondering if Gaster's about to up and fade away. Forever. Which he certainly isn't, he doesn't feel that tug on his body and soul.

[Fine, fine.] he goes to say, arms only growing and stretching out as far as necessary. [Okay. Stable. Minimum magic, not fading.]

[aghostinthemachine]

Even if he's still somewhat freaking out, seeing Gaster sign as a puddle is... kind of cute.

He feels awful for thinking that.

"Oh..." Mettaton looks over at the Blaster. "A-are you sure you're fine? You don't look fine, no offense."

[voidster]

It's anything but 'cute' in his own mind. This body is disgusting, loathsome, useless, all sorts of terrible words. And saying so would be a waste of energy, when certain people clearly think otherwise... plus, undignified. What's the use in complaining?

[Always hard to keep in shape.]

The Blaster is bobbing in place, floating serenely. No threats here, no one to shoot. It simply is.

[aghostinthemachine]

He can definitely see the similarities between the snow sculpture he had made and the Blaster, now that it's right here in front of his face.

And he'll argue until Gaster concedes when it comes to him being cute. But Mettaton crouches down next to him, tilting his head slightly.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

[characlysmic]

[To a child, skulking around a corner questioning if they should bother the weird gaster guy, it looks like someone who was probably the nicest adult they'd met in this place just got killed by a nightmare skull demon from hell.

They react in an emotionally stable manner to this revelation, with a muffled scream and dashing out into the open. Theres a pile of goo on the ground instead of dust, perhaps salvagable and they feel a giggle choking their throat because are they supposed to put him in a jar

The skull thing is right there, nosing at whats left. Finishing the job more like. They give it a kick, like they would a dog. They always do forget they have a knife in situations like this. ]

[voidster]

It's a damn good thing he has flawless control over these creations of his, and shuts the thing down before it fires at the perceived threat kicking it on the snoot, or Chara would be chara-broiled in a flash.

They aren't, of course. He would never. He lets out a hideous sound instead, radio static mixed with a catfight, hoping to get their attention. He has arms of a sort a moment later, ready to speak for him.

[Safe! It's safe. My invention. Magic I control, harmless.]

[characlysmic]

[They try and get another kick in. Poor Gaster, your lovely voice falls upon deaf ears. They've gotten good at reading lips sure, but his radio static gibbering can't get their attention.

Fortunately, when the blaster fails to attack, they switch tactics, trying to scoop up their weird goop friend. His hands wiggle and they blink, trying to mix the words out. Magic?? Control?? They're a little to panicked to get it right now so they keep trying to pick him up and run.]

[voidster]

He's a little too much mush for Chara to just pick up and walk off with. All of the goop twitches in one great lump as the Blaster flashes and disappears. There, see? All is well. The scary thing is gone.

Draping over the child a little, an arm (pseudopod?) reaches up so that his hand can grasp their shoulder reassuringly. Pat pat?

[characlysmic]

[Determination. Its like trying to pick up a very large potato sack of dad mush, but they make a very valiant effort. They're not quiet the best at this whole, 'rescue' thing. They know Asriel carried them somewhere when they had fallen down, oh, oh no. Was Gaster falling down?

The goop twitches and the demon skull thing disappears. They backpeddle as fast as possible, eyes wide, and practically scream when Gasters weird goop arms touches them. They're devolving into furious giggling instead.

Their smile is practically splitting their face as they try and shake what? Might be his shoulders? They don't actually know where his face is. ]

What's going on!! Are..aha..are you falling down!!

[ They sound almost happy about it. Is it any wonder Asriel could have misinterpreted the same sentiment when the had/would poisoned their father. ]