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

[dustless]

"He's the one with the...little brothers that stay with him." They stare into his face for a moment before adding "So be careful."

Maybe he'll infer that Frisk'll go after them, or just that the brothers won't do well with Gaster alone. Whatever he gets doesn't matter to Frisk as long as he does what they said.

[voidster]

Ah.

[I apologize, I didn't realize.] He's only approached one of those three while deaged, it's only to be expected he wouldn't. [Disregard what I said, then. I'm not that curious.]

[dustless]

They lift a single shoulder in a half-shrug.

"Maybe someday. You're--you'll meet them. Castle's big, not that big. But not--you probably shouldn't be doing lab...doing science during it."

[voidster]

His arms melt away into the main mass of his body again. There's absolutely no body language to read--he's too shapeless for that. The pause doesn't last all that long, only long enough to be significant (?).

[True. I appreciate the warning.]

[dustless]

There's an especially long pause on their side, too. Their mouth moves, though their lips stay tightly closed, chewing on things they want to say--talking about Serif and Papyrus more, mostly, but there's not much else they can add.

So Frisk nods and changes the subject.

"D'you need help up?"

[voidster]

[No. I would like to stay here for the moment. If this...] The arm gestures at the rest of him. [Unsettles you, don't worry about needing to stay. I'll be alright.]

Something's on their mind--but then, it's probably not that. It's the little brothers. He can't bring himself to ask, despite thinking he should.

[dustless]

Their fingers curl into loose fists, and then open flat again.

"Not really. Not now. I thought--I didn't know this was...normal."

Frisk's hands itch. They feel like they should be doing something.

[voidster]

Of course Frisk isn't telling the truth. When do they go easy on themself? Themselves, honestly, they all refuse to. (The thought that he's occasionally a hypocrite doesn't occur to him.)

[I won't be offended, believe me. It's a little disturbing even to myself. But it is--my new normal and I'm incapable of feeling pain.]

Which begs the question of how he knows he doesn't feel pain. Oops.

[dustless]

Correct, it does, and Frisk's staring at him again.

"Did someone try to hurt you?"

Oh--oh no.

"Did Chara try to hurt you?" Frisk asks, sitting ramrod straight.

[voidster]

This child. Wonderfully perceptive, very bright, full of questions--things he likes, things to be proud of.

Sometimes it's a pain, though. His... pile has piled a little higher and his disturbing noodly arms are working. Funnily enough, his hands and the neck of that sweater have the most detail, more than his face.

[It's alright--relax. No one has been harmed. Considering I'm not really a solid, I don't think I can be.]

[dustless]

Priorities, he has them.

And frustration, Frisk has that.

"I--it's not--it's good that you're not...you don't get hurt, but did Chara try to hurt you?" They want to be sure, damn it.

[voidster]

He pauses, reaching out with a noodle-and-hand to grab his fallen wristwatch and drag it closer to his base. Same for his satchel. Stalling.

Then: [Why?]

[dustless]

That long 'silence' is more than enough of an answer.

Frisk lurches to their feet in irritation. "They weren't supposed to! They don't--you weren't even here in October," they say, spinning on their heel. It sounds more like an accusation than an observation.

[voidster]

[You don't know that. And if I'm not angry at them, why should you be?]

Damage control. He wants to facepalm. Why does he keep blundering into things like this, he's supposed to be brilliant himself, he shouldn't make mistakes like this.

He. Is an idiot.

[They did nothing wrong. I look like him, and so they panicked.]

[dustless]

"Because...'cause I..."

It makes sense. People do stupid things when they're scared or desperate, and Chara has reason to be both around a Gaster. Even if Frisk's sure it's all just the castle's fault.

They really shouldn't be this mad.

Swallowing hard, Frisk turns away. "...jus' asked them not to," they finish in a mumble.

[voidster]

They're looking away, but he has more to say. Perhaps that can wait a moment. The arm stretches out a little further, and he wills it not to shake--it wants to collapse under the strain of gravity, he can feel it. How frustrating. It doesn't, luckily, and he's patting them on the shoulder. His hand is firm enough, only a little softer than normal bone.

[dustless]

They flinch, and don't turn right away. They need to force down that anger, scrub an embarrassed hand over their eyes just once. This was dumb.

Frisk turns and crouches. They don't look at his face, unsure of what his expression might be, only his hands.

[voidster]

He can only shape himself so tall. He's... tired. It's not easy. And he has to keep signing... One last pat and the hand retracts.

[That was kind of you to do.]

...Going by that, he's probably not glaring at them right now.

[dustless]

"...Sorry. I hope they don't do it again."

Even if it won't actually hurt him, apparently. They're not sure if that doesn't mean it won't work eventually--

"You better not do anything to yourself. To see if...something works to hurt you," they say, glaring halfheartedly at his hands.

[voidster]

[They won't. We talked once they realized, relatively calmly. It's not going to happen again.]

And if it does, so what. Both of them will walk away without a scratch. It doesn't even bother him. Perhaps the Gasters deserve it. It's... not great for the scraps of self worth he has to know 'he' has done such terrible things, but he's known what he's been up to in other timelines for such a long time.

[I won't.]

[dustless]

"They did?" That's...maybe it's mean that they're so surprised, but they are, enough to finally look up and search his face.

"...good," they say, meaning all of that.

[voidster]

Still no glare. He looks calm and somewhat friendly, as he usually is around Frisk.

[Let's just say it was a short, rude conversation, but... I can't blame them. All they wanted was for me to stay away from them.]

So far, so good. He has, somehow, despite being trapped here with them. Maybe the castle is on his and their side.

[dustless]

"...good," they repeat, for lack of anything better to say.

At least for a moment. Frustration's still there, scraping around their chest.

They exhale deeply. "Jus'--I don't--I know life's not fair," they cut themselves off, just in case he was going to butt in with something along those lines "but I still...don't like. When people...when things like that happen."

Obviously. And it's not like Gaster can do anything about it anyways.

[voidster]

He's a little more torso-shaped now, scraping all of five feet tall, and it makes signing easier. Even if his arms don't look... believable.

[I know. You care about people. Monsters, humans, everyone. We appreciate it.]