Gaster's journal
Sans strolled through the streets of Ebott in the early morning. The market square was fairly busy with monsters and humans alike going about their daily business. Sans wandered around the stalls for a few moments as he half paid attention to the wares that were out on display. He continued to avoid the larger crowds of people until he came to the stall that he was looking for. It was a newspaper stand that looked to be lacking in customers as the monster attendant leaned bored over the counter. Sans smirked as he made his way over.
“Heya Jack, slow news day?” He asked. The coyote type monster, who was slumped at the stand, perked up and offered up a sly smile as he saw Sans approach.
“Well, Sansy you're definitely a sight for sore eyes.” He said. “Haven’t seen ya around for a few days. There must have been something real important going down with the Pansies. You got a scoop too sell me?”
“Actually I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Sans replied, tossing the coyote a nickel. Jack caught it, before pulling out a paper and handing it to Sans. Sans then leaned his weight against the stand as he unfolded the paper and proceeded to glance it over.
“You know, I never really took you for a guy that was so interested in politics.” Jack said as he glanced at the headline of the article that sans was skimming, which read ‘Monster Gangs Menace To Society’ in big bolded letters. Sans shrugged in response.
“You’d be right about that.” He said. “I only really buy these things for the funny pages.” Jack snickered.
“Hehe, with your jokes you should be writing the funny pages.” He said. “So, does that mean that there is another reason for this little visit?” He asked. Sans smirked.
“Sharp as always I see.” He replied. Jacks eyes visibly glinted in interest as Sans folded the paper back up.
“I’m actually looking to purchase some information revolving around a monster working for the Gambino’s.” Sans said. Jack’s grin faltered into a look of pure shock.
“A monster working for a human gang?” He asked, his voice a whisper. Sans sighed.
“Judging by your reaction, you don’t got anything for me do ya?” He said. Jack furrowed his brow.
“Well, not yet.” He said. “But if you give me a few days and my usual rate I can see what I can dig up.” Sans nodded and passed the paper back to him across the stand.
“It’s a deal pal. I’ll see ya at Grilby’s when you find something.” He said. Sans then turned and walked leisurely away with his hands lazily tucked into the pockets of his slacks. Jack smirked as he watched him go, before he unfolded the newspaper revealing a fat stack of cash hidden inside.
“Pleasure doin business with ya partner.” He snickered as he pocketed the money.
When Sans made it home he was relatively disheartened at the quiet apartment awaiting him. Frisk was still at work, and his brother was sleeping, leaving him alone in the empty living room. Papyrus had still not recovered his magic fully, and could only stay awake for a few hours at a time before he had to go and rest again. Sans new that this was normal, it would take a few days for his brother’s magic level to readjust itself back to its usual state, but he still hated the ever-present void that was left in the apartment whenever Papyrus wasn’t around.
On the plus side, Sans could use this time to actually get some things done that he knew he had been putting off, since he had nothing that he could use as an excuse to procrastinate anymore. Well, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if he could really consider that a plus, since one of the things that he still had to do was deceiver Gaster’s notebook. Normally, putting off a task like this one was relatively easy for Sans, but this time Sans knew that he couldn’t. He had promised Alphys after all.
Sans strummed his fingers on the armrest of the sofa as he tried to come up with any more chores or errands that he could do first in an attempt to buy him a little bit more time away from having to revisit the days of his past. With a heavy sigh, Sans finally pulled himself off of the couch. He couldn’t think of anything.
As he sauntered begrudgingly out of the living room, he found his pinpricks wondering over to a messy stack of papers on Frisks end table. He cocked his head in slight curiosity as he moved forward to look at them more closely. In truth he knew what he was doing. He knew that he was grasping at straws, trying to find any distraction to keep him away from that godforsaken journal, but even knowing so, Sans still halfheartedly began to straighten out the pile.
It was only when his pinpricks glanced at one of the headings presented on a brochure at the top of the pile that he began to feel a little bit more interested. It was an advertisement for an apartment complex. Sans paused, and then looked at the rest of the stack. They were all advertisements for available spaces to rent. Sans retook his seat on the couch as he looked over the brochures more closely. Was Frisk looking at these? Did she want to move out?
It hadn’t ever occurred to him before, but now that he thought about it, of course it made perfect sense. She was only supposed to be staying with them for the trial period, and now that she was an actual member of the Pansies, and making decent money, why shouldn’t she want her own space? The lumpy sofa that she was currently sleeping on probably wasn’t that ideal as a bed, and Frisk was a young women after all. Living with two bachelors, without her own room wasn’t exactly appropriate in society’s eyes. Sure, they had had the excuse of Frisk needing to be watched since she was a human when she had first joined, but that justification was starting to wear thin. The truth was that if she didn’t find her own space now that she was perfectly capable of it, people would most definitely start to talk. Sans could already imagine the stupid rumors that would undoubtedly start to spawn in the bar. Her reputation would be on the line, his and his brothers as well. Though Sans’ rational mind found it perfectly acceptable, and understandable that Frisk was looking at renting a single bedroom apartment for herself, he couldn’t help the frown that firmly settled on to his face. He didn’t like it.
It frustrated him. He tried to rationalize why he was so against her moving out. He supposed that he was worried about her living alone when she was still on Ludos’ hit list, and though that was a sensible concern, he knew that there was more to it. If she was somewhere else then he wouldn’t be able to keep as close an eye on her. He wouldn’t be able to make sure that she stayed out of trouble. She was his underling after all. She was his responsibility.
Sans grumbled as he got up from the couch. He supposed that it didn’t really matter in the end whether he liked it or not, it was Frisks decision, but he still felt bitter about it. He had thought that she would at least come to him and ask him for advice, or tell him what she was planning. He was her boss after all. Sans winced slightly at that thought. No, he had told her not to think of him in that way. If he played the boss card now then he would be nothing more than a big fat hypocrite, but he still made a mental note to bring it up to her. He should really talk to her about it. She owed him at least some form of explanation.
With one more huff, Sans found himself wandering slowly toward his room again. Now that he was in a sufficiently unpleasant mood, he found that he actually might welcome the distraction of working on the journal….though he doubted it.
When Sans made it to his desk he hesitated at pulling the little black book out of his locked drawer. He felt nervous all of a sudden. It took him almost ten minutes to just flip open the cover. When he was confronted by the familiar strange symbols scrawled neatly over the pages his soul shuddered. This wasn’t going to be fun. Sans sat down at his desk anyway, and proceeded to pull out a fountain pen and a few blank pieces of paper. He took one more steadying deep breath before he began to get to work.
As he worked to translate the text, his anxiousness slowly began to ebb. So far there was nothing too concerning written in the notebook, just some rough drafts of reports, or half-baked ideas for future projects. Sans almost allowed himself to actually become hopeful that perhaps the journal really did hold nothing of interest, and that he could forget about this whole unpleasant ordeal and go on with his life, until he turned over the next page.
He raised a quizzical brow bone. It looked like Gaster was starting to describe a new idea, or perhaps it was a project that he had just started working on. It definitely involved an interest in exploring a new way to utilize determination. As Sans read onward, he began to sense that all too familiar feeling of dread start to form in his soul.
April 22, 1917
While my last achievements utilizing the human element of determination has resulted in grate success with the production of the soul candies, I cannot help but find that I am not satisfied with these results alone. I feel like I can push it further.
Sans gritted his teeth as he felt anger start to slowly seep past his defenses. Push it further? Not satisfied?! How many monsters lives had Gaster destroyed with the production of the soul candies? How many were lost by his experimentations on their very souls? Sans quickly turned his gaze away from the infuriating words as he took a moment to steady himself. He reminded himself that this wasn’t about the past. What was done could not be undone. All he could do was learn from it, and hopefully prevent something like this from happening again in the present, which was why he forced himself to continue reading, though he really, really wanted to stop then and there.
My research and experiments have, unfortunately, concluded that a monsters soul is just too weak to handle efficient levels of determination. It causes a negative reaction within their soul, destabilizing their physical form, and causing unpredictable mutations.
Sans winced as his locked away memories started to resurface. He remembered the mutations, the Amalgamates. Those poor, suffering, unfortunate monsters who had unknowingly signed their own death certificates when they had volunteered to participate in Gaster’s research trials. He remembered finding it odd that he never saw the same monster twice during that whole project when he had been working as Gaster’s assistant, but he had just shrugged it off, until it was far too late to save any of them. He read onward.
Though we were still able to overcome this obstacle by creating the soul candies, I still view the project as a failure. If monster souls cannot be a sufficient container for the true power of determination, then I must come up with another way to harness it. There must be something that can contain that said power.
May 13th 1917
I have a theory. At first I had completely disregarded this idea as it was far too simple, but often one finds that simplicity is the answer to many of lives problems. A human soul, unlike a monsters soul, is already made up of a certain percentage of determination. It is determinations natural vessel. I believe I must test the limitations of a human’s soul. How much determination can one hold until breaking? I am curious to find out.
Sans was at the edge of his seat at this point. This was all unfamiliar to him. He had never once seen any evidence of this project, even when Gaster’s lab was seized and searched under Asgore’s orders. They had found a lot of horrors hidden in the closed off areas of the older facilities, but there had never been any evidence of experimentations on humans.
June 1st 1917
I received my first test subject today. I was significantly disappointed with the results. Though the human’s soul did far better than the monsters at holding large quantities of determination, it still shattered well below the point of my expectations. Perhaps there is still another perspective to this experiment that I am not seeing. My subject was a fully developed human male. Maybe like the body, the soul develops over time. Perhaps it will be more malleable at a younger age before settling into its adult state. Maybe one can condition a soul with smaller introductions of determination over longer periods of time. In a sense, it would be like training the soul’s integral structure to be able to hold the volume that I want it to. It is a theory that possesses some interest, and is one that defiantly requires looking into.
Sans felt darkness start to creep up his spine. He was praying at this point that Gaster was not suggesting what he thought that he was, but as Sans continued to read through the text he quickly realized that his fears were justified. Sans did not pause for a second as he tore through the rest of the note book. His pinpricks darkening with every word that he read. His cyan eye started to flare up at the disturbing truth displayed before him. When he reached his limit, Sans through the accursed book as far away from himself as he could get it. It smacked hard into the far wall of his room before falling into his sock pile. Sans buried his face in his arms over his desk as he raked his fingers over his skull. He was furious.
That bastard had done it. He had taken children. Human children! He had purchased them like livestock from the black market from desperate families who had lost everything in the collapse of the economy. He had bought them from their own parents! Sans felt sick.
Gaster had purchased eight in total, and proceeded to pump their little souls full of determination to see what would happen; to feed his own morbid curiosity. He wanted to mold them into something akin to a weapon, not carrying if he broke a few along the way. He didn’t even allow them their names, only referring to them by number.
It turned out that Gaster had been impatient as he attempted to push their souls to the limits. Six had perished thanks to his cruel treatment, leaving only number one and number eight alive. Unfortunately the entries stopped before the conclusion on the experiment was reached. Sans guessed that the other two children had probably died in the fire when the lab had burned down, charring their little bodies to ash, and leaving no evidence of the brutalities that Gaster had committed behind.
Sans turned his black sockets back to the journal sitting in his sock pile. That horrid thing should have burned. It should have burned with Gaster in that fire. It should have burned with the children that he had destroyed. It should have never been found. He should have never read it. It shouldn’t exist.
Sans moved closer to the black book. His cyan eye alight as he prepared to call forth his magic and abolish the evil thing, but before he could, he heard the front door of the apartment open and close, breaking him from his infuriated trance. Frisk was home.
Sans continued to stare down at the black book. Though he wanted more than anything to tear it apart, he knew that he couldn’t. He had promised Alphys, and though he didn’t want to admit it, there might be a lead in Gasters experiments regarding the children. He would have to analyses it more closely. Sans then picked up the notebook before locking it away in his desk drawer again. He took a moment to get himself sorted before fastening his lazy smile back on to his face to go and say hello to Frisk.
When Sans rounded the corner, he found Frisk on the couch. She was fussing with her bouquet of now, quite frankly, very wilted looking flowers. He watched her hassle with the drooping blooms for a moment, before he cleared his throat to get her attention.
“What you doin there kid?” He asked from his spot in the hallway. Frisk didn’t break her concentration away from the flowers as she answered him.
“I’m trying to get these flowers to brighten back up.” She replied. Sans paused.
“Pal, there cut flowers. There not gonna last forever.” He said.
“I know.” Frisk said. “It’s just, I thought that I could make them last just a little bit longer.” Sans all of a sudden felt a pang of annoyance worm his way up his spine as he continued to watch her try to straighten out the stalks of the flowers. Why did she care so much about those useless weeds anyway?
“Maybe I can ask Asgore. He seems to know a lot about plants. Maybe there’s something that can perk them back up.” She continued. Sans winced slightly at the mention of Asgore’s name. He was still feeling a little sore when it came to the boss monster. The slight pang of annoyance now grew in to a full on surge.
“Kid. Flowers die. That’s just what happens. Things like that don’t last.” He said more bitterly then he had intended to. At his harsh comment Frisk snapped her head toward him, a sullen little frown forming on her face. Sans immediately bit is tongue. He hadn’t meant to take his frustrations out on her. He supposed he had become more undone then what he had first thought. He tried to cover up his snap with a lazy grin as he quickly came up with a joke.
“I don’t mean to be a thorn in your side, but I’d much rather get right down to the root of the problem.” He quipped as he tossed her a wink.
Frisk smiled lightly back at him, but he could tell that she didn’t buy his attempt at a distraction. She moved away from the flowers in what he knew was an effort to not set him off again. Sans felt his soul sink. Now he felt bad.
Though, what he had said was true, life was harsh after all. Things like flowers were fleeting, only lasting for a moment, before they inevitably withered away. Those peaceful, and happy moments which they often represented were just as much of a sham as their colorful blossoms were. They were such delicate states of being, they just couldn’t be expected to withstand these troubled times. Eventually, they would only disappear to reveal another tragedy waiting right around the corner.
Honestly, it would be better if she learned to accept this reality now, and stop trying to preserve what couldn’t last. It’d be better if she just let those stupid weeds die and give up already. He certainly had.
Sans quickly moved away from the hallway, and moseyed over to apartment door with his hands shoved into his slacks. This was getting depressing, god he needed a drink. He knew that he still needed to talk to Frisk about the broachers that were even now within his sight, nagging at him to say something, but he all of a sudden didn’t feel very up to that conversation. It had just been too much for today. He needed a break and he didn’t want to risk snapping at her again. He would get to it later.
“I’ma just gonna head down stairs for a bit kid. Don’t wait up.” He said, trying his best to not meet her eyes.
Frisk turned to him again, the sad frown back on her face. Sans knew that she had become more aware of how frequent his trips to the bar had gotten in the last few days. He hated that disappointed face she made that basically spelled out how unhappy she was with his coping methods. It was obvious, even when she tried to cover up her concerns by simply offering him an understanding smile and a sweetly said ‘ok, have a goodnight’, But he chose to ignore it anyway.
It wouldn’t be for much longer, just until Papyrus had recovered back to his full health. Just a day or so more, and then things would go right back to normal. Besides, he really did need a break. He knew that if he tried to have a serious conversation with her now he might just end up talking his frustrations out on her again. He would say these things to reassure himself, though it didn’t really help as he still felt like trash.
Even so, he would always end up at the bar, and drink until he couldn’t feel anymore. Then he would laugh and joke emptily with the other sad sods present for that evening, until Grillby couldn’t handle his humor any longer and cut him off. Then he would wonder back up to the apartment and pass out until the next morning.
Tonight’s routine had turned out a little differently However. Sans was wondering back up to the apartment after last call, just like he always did. He was dizzy with booze as he barely managed to shamble up the stairs, giggling to himself in his delirious state all the while. When he made it inside the apartment, he glanced over to Frisk’s sleeping form on the couch where she always was. He saw that she had borrowed a few of his text books again as she had a few piled on her bedside, and one that she was currently using as a pillow that lay open beneath her head.
Sans turned away. He knew that she had probably been reading them to try and keep herself awake in an effort to wait for him to get back, even though he had told her not to. He quickly wiped the guilty frown of his face. He would just talk to her later, everything would be fine.
Sans then stumbled onward. now that Frisk was accounted for, all Sans had left to do was quickly peek his head in to Papyrus’ room to check on him, and then succumb to his intoxicated minds pleas for a perfectly dreamless black out sleep session. However, on his way back to his room he paused for a moment. He swayed where he stood and then glanced back over to the end table by the couch. Something was missing. It took him a while to finally figure out that Frisks flowers were gone.
Sans inebriated smile faltered a bit as guilt sparked again in his soul, despite the numbing effect of the alcohol. He hadn’t meant anything by what he had said. He hadn’t meant for her to take his stupid depressed ramblings seriously. He tried his best to bury his thoughts down deep as he continued to his room. He’d deal with it tomorrow. Ya, the first thing that he would do was apologies and then have a lovely chat about apartment buildings, but for now all he wanted was sleep.
When Sans came to, he woke up with a splitting headache, which by now was per usual. He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to hang on to the relief that was sleep for a few more moments. Reluctantly, he gave up trying when his migraine became too much to bare, and turned to his side, already knowing what was going to be there. He cracked one eye open, and just as he had predicted, on his desk was a steeping mug of sea tea.
Every morning he would wake up like this, with a nasty hangover and its remedy placed by his bedside. Sans sighed as he stood up to go and get the drink. For the last little while Frisk had made it her new habit to make the beverage for him every morning when she knew that he had been drinking the night before. The act was so sweet and kind, which just made Sans feel more like garbage.
This time, however, was a tad different than the others. When Sans grasped the handle, he noticed there was a piece of paper tied around it. Sans raised a curious eyebrow as he undid the small knotted string holding it in place. He then unfolded the paper and read the note inside.
‘Good morning, I hope you have a tea-lightful day!’ It read. Sans sat back down on his bed and cradled his head in his hand. Now he felt even worse than before. Why did she have to be like this? He would have preferred it if she would just shout at him, or if she would get angry, or scolded him for Christ sake.
When Sans finally pried his hands away from his face and lifted his gaze, he noticed that Frisk had also returned his text books as they were placed neatly back on his overcrowded bookshelf. He sat on the edge of his bed for a little while longer, before he gradually made his way over selecting one of the books that he had seen her reading the night before. He brought it back with him as he returned to his position on his mattress. He glanced at the title of the journal and remembered that it held a particularly interesting article discussing the theory of relativity. He wondered if Frisk would like it.
Maybe he could use the article to ease into the conversation that he had been meaning to have with her about her wanting to move out? He still had yet to discuss that particular subject with her. He knew that he should have addressed it as soon as she had gotten home yesterday, but then he had to go and open up Gasters notebook… Sans quickly blocked out the unpleasant thoughts concerning the doctors journal .Nope, he had spent enough time on that for now.
At the very least, he did still owe Frisk an apology for snapping at her the other day about her flowers. It was his fault that she had thrown them away. Even if the plants were dying, he shouldn’t have spoiled it for her . Maybe a brief science lesson would suffice as atonement for letting his bitterness seep out.
Sans then opened the book in his lap as he then quickly fanned through the pages, trying to find that article. However, as he flipped through the pages, flower blossoms all of a sudden came tumbling out of the book, falling into his lap and scattering over his bed and floor. Sans paused in surprise. He then gingerly picked up one of the delicate dried blooms that had been pressed in between the pages of his book. As he continued to stare at the perfectly preserved daisy that he held carefully between his phalanges, he couldn’t help the genuine smile that spread across his face
Wow. The kid had really done it. She had proved him wrong without even trying. Sans laughed softly as he spun the bloom on its stem.
He realized then how foolish he had been acting in the last couple of days, running and hiding from his responsibilities like a child. Now he saw how pointless it was for him to be acting like this. So what if those happy moments didn’t last forever? So what if they were fragile and fleeting? It didn’t matter if they were few and far between. As long as he could go back to them in his memories then he wouldn’t mind if they gradually faded away. He knew that there would always be some sort of tragedy lurking just around the bend, but for now, if he could just enjoy one simple morning with some good company then why wouldn’t he relish in it?
Sans then stood from his bed with the journal tucked under his arm as he made his way out of his room to go and find Frisk. He would worry about the nightmares when they inevitably came, but for now he would just enjoy the peaceful time that he had been granted with some some good food, good friends, and some bad laughs.