Try me, Bones. (Gaster!Sans X Reader) Wattys2016

~*~3~*~

(A/N: Frisk is a child so.. that's why they talk like a child. It's that or they be mute which doesn't make sense cause in the end they tell  Asriel their name is Frisk so... I also realized the above song fits Gaster!sans so well that it wounds me. Oh my fricking...frisking... god. 

Warning: Well this chapter has quite a bit of cursing because I'm not sure what happened. 

p.s. Toward the ...middle...i don't know.... there's some stuff like from last chapter, cause I guess that's what you guys like..? Okay just finished writing the part and it's better than yesterday's. 

Megalovania

hot

damnalovania

I'm proud of myself.)

~*~Cut-Throat~*~

~*~Sans~*~

I shut the door behind us, as Vivlaer gives me a cold gaze.

"Sans, what do you mean, she has the DETERMINATION trait? All humans do!"

She's impatient as always.

"She's got the full trait, in her soul. Like Frisk. She's a pure soul." I take a long drag from my cigarette, which I prefer when  I'm just too stressed to focus on a cigar.

She groans when she hears me talking about them, and I shoot her a gaze, with cut-throat darkness in my eyes.

She silences herself.

"Vivlaer, where's the others?"

"Ramona is out back with the others, she's cooking, Samuel is with the troops, Melanie is sitting in the center of camp entertaining the children, and I'm pretty sure Caine is working with Grillby in the Forge."

"Get them.. I think... ngh... Vivlaer go." 

She leaves.

I can't say anything else because there's suddenly a ringing taking over my hearing, and something slamming against my ribs, vibrating in the depths of my soul, and Frisk is clawing at my conscious mind, forcing me to collapse my own body and recede into the depths of what Frisk enjoys calling the 'mind-scape'. 

I flick my cigarette to the side, it bursts into flame before it hits the ground.

In other words, I have to give myself a concussion.

Hooray.

I'm out cold in seconds, my own body falling limp onto the ground, it's colder than  I remember.

"F-r-i-s-k" My own voice sounds like it's ringing, radiating, and I have to calm myself, my bones are rattling.

"Sans..." They run and hug me, their body but a spirit.

"What is it, kiddo?"  My eye-sockets start to blur, and the dancing lights in my eyes go out, I struggle to relight them, even with magic.

"Another human with another pure soul is nearby... They're in danger, Sans. The Guard is really really close."

I wrap them in my arms, missing the feeling of them in my grasp, missing the child-like twinge to their voice, the way they speak.

I miss them even if I speak to them in my dreams, what few I have that don't give me horrific memories.

We can only ever talk like this when I'm at  moments of undisturbed  peace, and so they usually give me a ringing in my ears, an extremely painful migraine, by clawing at my deeper conscious. Then, I usually have to give myself a force-concussion, by slamming one of my own attacks against my own skull.