Feralverse Short Stories

Feralecho (Backstory)

Gaster remembered. He remembered the first timeline. When Frisk first fell down. He didn't have much time for the human. He had a son to save. The human offered nothing to do such a thing with, at first, so he had Alphys handle it so he could focus his intentions on his feral child. That was a father's duty, after all, no? It was only a few months later, when he caught Frisk and Alphys in his laboratory with Sans, that he realized Frisk had exactly what Sans needed. With determination as strong as there's, Sans could possibly be cured. The balm to calm the wild instincts that drove him. Unfortunately, getting Frisk's consent to use that determination on Sans proved... difficult. Perhaps if Gaster hadn't pushed so hard, things would've been different. The future would not have been set in stone. Gaster would do anything to save his son, though, absolutely anything to cure Sans of Ferality. Even if he had to battle across multiple timelines - multiple genocides - to get that determined soul. How could Gaster have known what the timelines were doing? How the determination of that soul was affecting the C.O.R.E? He only had one goal, after all.

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All it took was one injection. One little prick of the needle for everything to change. The determination, the soul reacted. Sans reacted. Gaster reacted. The C.O.R.E. reacted. They all reacted and SHIFTed. Everything changed in the blink of an eye. Monsters disappeared, hot became cold and vice versa, golden flowers became echo flowers, a forest of conifers became a forest of mailboxes, and the C.O.R.E? Gone. Far from wherever he was. Whoever he was. When Gild first woke up, he wasn't entirely who. Was he Gaster? Was he Sans? Was he feral or tame? It seemed to whisper in his mind, telling him all the irrational things he wanted to do, but he shoved that back. He had more important things to figure out. Like who he was. And what the hell happened. His memories seemed to mesh together. Gaster and Sans, though Sans couldn't provide much in terms of even more scattered memories of twisted and fearful perceptions. He certainly remembered the DT shot, at least. Gaster's memories, however, were more... interesting. Timelines of that human, Frisk, and the fight for their soul. Gild could only assume it returned to its owner. Frisk was out there somewhere.

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Before Gild could hunt for Frisk and fix this, though, he needed to go home. Get a good look at himself in the mirror. The cracks in his skull were very Gaster, and he knew he was taller than Sans. Yet, he still sensed he was shorter than Gaster too. In his left socket was a golden ring, bright and serious. In his right, despite not being able to lift it more than halfway, was a golden slit. He supposed that meant Sans was still feral within him. Did that mean Gaster had more control? That... didn't seem right. It didn't feel that way, anyway. If anything, Gild felt more like... he was his own person, not just a mutt of two others. He sighed out a weary, uncertain breath before he went to change into whatever would fit him. A pair of grey cargo pants, a thick dark green turtleneck, and a heavy black jacket with a blue echo flower printed on the back worked for him. The thick, long materials seemed to calm whatever feral instinct was buried so he kept the blue rimmed hood up at all times to keep his focus on the next task. Frisk.

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Both Sans and Gaster's memories told Gild that he didn't have to go looking. He just had to wait at the old Ruins door, the one Gaster had shown Sans when he was a young pup, still as tame as could be. There was a random flight of stairs there where he could sit and wait, adjusting and readjusting his tail so he could sit comfortably. It ended up curling into his lap as he lit a cigarette that he'd found at Grillby's. He'd never smoked before, but now seemed like a good time to start, with his world collapsing around him as he knew it. Gild got the hang of it relatively quickly. Eventually tried to shape the smoke in a vain attempt to amuse himself. Eventually he finished it off and grew bored again. The heat of Snowdin felt pleasant against his bones and being alone, he felt safe. Gild leaned back with a sleepy yawn and let himself doze off. He would wake if someone came through that door. He knew he would. He just wanted to slip a little nap in, first...

To be continued