Within your world...
A bell rang, followed by the smooth sound of jazz music filling the air. The warm scent of delicious food mingled with the faint aroma of alcohol. In the corner sat a brightly colored jukebox, its lively appearance contrasting with the sleek interior—predominantly black wood with crisp white accents.
The walls were adorned with pictures and photographs, mostly of the monsters present in the restaurant. Some were chatting in the cozy booths, others pictured playing by the water on a rolling coast, or gathered around campfires. Oddly, a few photos showed spaces where figures should be, yet weren't—at least, not yet.
With a flicker, a short skeleton materialized by one of the tables, having teleported over. He slid two plates across to those seated: a bunny monster with swirling eyes, looking a little tipsy, sipping from a flask, and across from him, a large-mouthed monster.
"Heya, Sansy~," the bunny greeted, leaning lazily on the table.
"hey again, pal. enjoy the food," Sans said, fishing something out of his clean vest. "oh, before I forget—you left your hare brush last time."
The bunny snickered and took the brush, slouching in his seat with a big grin. The other monster across from him chuckled. "Sorry, Sans. Thought we took his flask."
"emergency flask," the bunny replied, sticking out his tongue. "Where're all the hot guys at?"
Sans shrugged. "well, the food'll clear that up. no worries."
He vanished again, reappearing behind the counter, only to spot a surprising sight. A small figure stood there—one he hadn't seen in his restaurant since she'd moved out of town.
"Hoi," the cat-dog monster known as Temmie greeted him. "Can I... haz somethin' to drink?"
"sure thing," Sans replied, grabbing a few different glasses. "the usual, I presume?"
"Yeahhhz," Temmie said with a small smile.
Sans mixed the drink carefully—one shiny green bottle, one dim red one, and another labeled simply 'Bottle,' which was a translucent, clear liquid. Once done, he slid the bubbling concoction across the counter, and Temmie caught it. As she drank, his washrag, glowing blue, floated up and began to clean the counter on its own.
"sparkling water. top shelf, enjoy," he said, watching her take steady sips. "surprised you aren't manning your shop at the cliffs," he asked. "so, what's got you feline low?" He smirked when she shot him a look. "what? i'm just askin' what's houndin' ya, that's all."
"Hmm." Temmie sighed, her voice less cutesy. "I guess... it's the same thing as always. I don't even need to be there, do I?" She asked, frustration creeping in. "I thought more people would come for the view... but I've only had one customer."
"yeah? who's that?" Sans asked.
"You." Temmie huffed.
Sans gave a nod. "sounds like a handsome, charming, funny, charismatic—did i mention handsome?"
"Sans." She shot him a stern look.
"see? you knew who i was talkin' about," he chuckled, though he paused when she didn't laugh. "c'mon, Temmie. business will pick up. and if you need extra work, i could use help during the dinner rush."
Temmie managed a small smile. "I'll be okay. Thanks, though—really." She finished her drink. "It... wouldn't be enough to pay for college anyway." She paused, pondering aloud. "I'm gonna be a big success. Super sales. Much businuss. All on my own."
She declared it more to herself than anyone else, then dug into her shirt and pulled out a handmade flyer, placing it on the counter. Sans raised an eyebrow at the scrappy design.
"fancy," he commented.
"To start much climb to the topz, I—" She laughed nervously before continuing, more serious now. "I was wondering if I could put this in the window, maybe?" She hesitated. "I was gonna make a professional one, but... that turned out to be really expensive."
"you don't need to sell me on it, Temmie," Sans said, refilling her glass. "i'm happy to help," he reassured, earning a grateful smile from her. "and don't worry about the drinks; i'll just put 'em on your tab."
"Thanks." She drained the cup and then, her playful tone returning, declared, "No tImE like the presunt! To destiny!"
With that, she hopped off the stool and raced over to the window, slapping the flyer up. It read, 'Tem's Item Shop' available at the 'River Cliff' location. As expected, it began to slowly peel off the glass.
Temmie shuffled back to the counter. "U-uhm, Sans—" He slid a roll of clear tape her way.
"thank you," she muttered, taping the flyer properly. Sans chuckled as he loaded her empty glass into the dishwasher. Sure, it was better to wash by hand, but a shortcut didn't hurt sometimes.
"Sans, can I get the ravioli?" someone called from across the room.
"sure thing," he replied, teleporting into the kitchen.
Maybe it wasn't a perfect life, but it was one he was content with. Good food, a few laughs, and good friends. What more could anyone ask for?
The world around you was unraveling, dissolving into the void like forgotten memories. Gaster led the Observer, and you followed, stepping into a crumbling version of the Ruins, nearly swallowed by emptiness. The walls, once familiar, were now ghostly white, their outlines blurred, melting into patches of nothingness. It felt as if you were walking through a memory erased mid-thought—color and substance devoured by the void.
A pale, hollow-eyed Froggit stumbled across your path, its body flickering in and out of existence like a mere echo of what it once was. Nearby, a bird-like creature fluttered aimlessly, its distorted cries broken, twisted into something like a warped version of a Whimsun. The windows of the Ruins were cracked and shattered, with only faint traces of what once was—a life that clung to these walls now seen in the form of faded flowers, their petals withered and forgotten.
"We're close to the 'Rock' now," Gaster remarked, his voice as dispassionate as ever. "Once we retrieve it, we'll collect what's left of the ghost. This place is falling apart... it won't last much longer."
One of you spoke up. "I'd prefer to save Napstablook for The Judge."
"Is that right?" Gaster mused, barely paying attention.
Then came a louder voice—one of you, frustrated. "Why do we always end up in these timelines? The genocides, the awful ones?"
Gaster halted mid-step. The edges of his lab coat rippled like melting wax, dissolving into the void before reforming just as quickly. He was silent for a long moment, letting the weight of the question settle. Finally, he turned, his expression unreadable.
"An excellent question," he said, voice quiet but sharp. "For the same reason my own reality no longer exists."
He stepped past the Observer, lighting a cigarette as he moved. The smoke curled into the air like tendrils of shadow, coiling in the void. As it brushed the drone, its sensor briefly glitched. Gaster stopped next to the bird-like creature, still flapping weakly, and without hesitation, he grabbed its wing. The creature let out a broken, glitching scream, struggling in vain to escape.
"To begin... Any timeline, any reality can end up here," Gaster continued, his voice dropping to a murmur. "In some ways, they all do." The bird fired a few unstable, flickering bullets at him, but they phased through his body without harm. "But certain realities—those where things break, where death lingers, where there isn't a happy ending—those are the ones that fall here more often."
Without warning, he ripped the wing from the creature with a brutal yank. Its cry was abruptly silenced, the sound fading as its body crumbled to the ground. Gaster watched coldly as it writhed, his eyes distant.
"And the reason is simple." His voice turned icy as he crushed the bird beneath his foot, reducing it to glitching dust. "These worlds—these broken, forgotten places—are like a bird without a wing. Undesirable."
He turned toward you and the Observer, his gaze intense, both unsettling and detached.
The Observer used your words. "What?"
Gaster seemed to twitch at the question, taking a longer drag of his cigarette. The smoke seeming to flow down to, and steadily erode the froggit. The monster making a pitiful noise, before being melted by the smog.
"Every time you reset a world... every time you uninstall, delete, discard—where do you think all of that goes?" He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly, foot tapping impatiently. "When you play with timelines, when you force them to break, to glitch—when you twist the world to your liking just to see what happens—what do you do when you're done, or when something doesn't quite work out?" His eyes narrowed. "Do you hold onto your mistakes? Or do you crush them, tear them, crumple them up, pretending they never happened?"
He paused, waiting, though he already knew the answer.
One of you spoke. "I think the rock sounds fun."
Some of him seemed to begin melting. Losing some of his composition. He reminded himself that your messages could sometimes come out of order. And were not indicative of a 'true response.' And so he continued.
"Let's not lie," he said, smiling faintly. "Those mistakes, you discard them. You reset. You start again. The game ends, and you want to play again because you miss your 'friends.' You didn't like that piece? Better redraw it. Hmm, this wasn't the optimal route? Better reload, and try again." He shrugged. "To you, they're gone and forgotten. But those things—timelines, stories, realities—they existed. They did happen. Every one of them _was_ real. And when you throw them away... they end up here."
He gestured to the void around you, the emptiness devouring the world piece by piece. He expected a response, but none came. His eye seeming to twitch.
"This is not some dangling void, ruled by a man dripping in ink. It's not the realm of a distant king and his court of strangers, ruling a higher plane. Nor is it something grasped within an Error's web. This..." His voice dropped to a hush. "This is what's left beneath it all. Dark, darker yet darker. What remains below everything—the place things go when even the underworlds have been forgotten."
He flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it underfoot. His bony hand dripped slightly, but the liquid never reached the ground. It always vanished before it could fall far.
"For example, my world was just one of many. Someone like me wanted to experiment. He created a playground for his test, filled with beings who, to him, were little more than scribbles on a page. Characters in a game. It didn't matter if it persisted. When the experiment was over, there was no more use for the thing he'd broken, so the world was discarded. Erased. As if it never mattered."
The Observer whirred softly, intrigued, but Gaster remained calm, his tone controlled.
"And that brings us back to the point," he said. "Most people are content with a happy ending. They save the file, the story, the drawing, and they hold onto it. Sometimes it's atonement for the times they weren't kind. Other times, it's just something good they want to preserve." He glanced at you. "But how much do you value a world that's been broken? A story that was imperfect? A painting that was crude? A game that wasn't 'fun enough'? An ending you didn't like?" He hummed. "The reason we go to so many of these places is simple—they are the most common worlds discarded."
Silence filled the air, thick and heavy. You noticed a part of Gaster's face move, like a section of his eye socket dripping, splattering the floor with a piece of him. His eye twitched again, as he scanned you.
"Anything to say?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a challenge. "Any thoughts? Any... opinions?" His voice cracked with frustration. "Anything!?"
Invoked by his words, you responded quickly, your voices cutting through the tension, filled with DETERMINATION!
"Just give us the rock!" one of you shouted. "Rock MVP," another muttered. "You've gotta relax, Gaster. It's not that serious."
The silence that followed was absolute, stretching on longer than a mere moment. Gaster stared at you with a blank expression, until at last, he let out a strange, hollow laugh. His smile stretched unnaturally, and his form seemed less... corporeal. It continued and rose, the Observer making an uncomfortable whirr.
Finally, he stopped, maintaining that eerie grin, and less 'whole' state.
"Wonderful, just wonderful. Very well," he said, his tone shifting. "You seem to desire it so much. Allow me to cast my vote in support of your impulse. Let us claim... your Rock."
He turned and continued down the path, his form flickering at the edges, his coat melting and reforming. His bony fingers dripped, dissolving into the void behind him as he moved. He no longer walked—it was more like he was gliding, with faint echoes of footsteps.
The next room was dim, a decaying version of the once-familiar space with its bridge and scattered rocks. Spikes, now mostly dull and broken, littered the path. Gaster moved forward without hesitation, the Observer trailing behind. Three rocks, displaced from their original positions, lay scattered across the room. His gaze settled on the one they had come for.
The rock's voice crackled, distorted, barely coherent. "Whoo-th-tner... wh-si-..."
"I had considered asking you to come along willingly," Gaster interjected, cutting through the static with a dismissive wave. His voice was calm, yet carried a deliberate sharpness. "But honestly, what's the point?"
Without further ceremony, he crouched, gripped the rock in one hand, and tore it from the ground. It crumbled into a mass of flickering code, pieces of the once-sentient stone scattered like data fragments.
"Done," Gaster muttered, more to himself. "Incomplete... but workable. We'll patch together whatever's missing later. Who cares?"
He tucked the code into his jacket, his form glitching as he moved. The Observer hummed with curiosity, trailing beside him.
"You know," Gaster continued casually, almost detached, "there's so much we just pass by for efficiency's sake. Why not gather what remains of this place?" He shrugged. "Fill in the gaps with whatever's left. It won't matter in the end. Take what we can, right?"
He gestured lazily toward a half-collapsed creature, its form barely recognizable as a Loox. Its shredded body clung to existence. Without breaking stride, Gaster reached out, letting his fingers pass through the creature. It dissolved into glitching particles, reduced to scattered code.
"See? Easy." Gaster stowed the code away. He continued this methodically, dismantling whatever was left of the fragmented monsters they passed—remnants of a world barely holding together.
Soon, they arrived at the next room, one that stood out for its unsettling stillness. The walls were pale, almost translucent, leaves scattered across the floor like echoes. In the center of the room, a ghostly figure floated in silence.
It turned slowly, facing Gaster and the Observer with empty, hollow eyes.
"H-hello?" the ghost's voice was soft, unsure, fragile. "Who... are-"
"Oh. Neat." Gaster replied, his gaze scanning the ghost like an experiment gone wrong. "You're more intact than the others. Makes sense, miniboss and what not."
"I... don't un—" Napstablook began, only to be cut off as Gaster snapped his fingers. Phantom hands materialized from the void, wrapping around the ghost's form with an icy grip.
"You don't need to," Gaster said coldly. Napstablook struggled, but it was futile. In moments, the ghost disintegrated, shattering into raw code.
"Another task complete," Gaster commented as he casually stored the ghost's remains. "There you go, for whenever you want a sour sad little ghost. Most of it, anyway. We'll stitch together whatever's missing when we're back in the lab." He added. "Oh, speaking of, what's going on with that other role?"
The Observer, still struggling to keep pace with Gaster's detached efficiency, whirred softly before delivering the results.
For the Ambitious Role
Mettaton - 2
Toriel - 2
Papyrus - 1
Martlet - 1
Rock - 1
"My, my," Gaster chuckled, a low, eerie sound. "Still no clear winner. Well, I suppose we'll have to start somewhere." He didn't seem concerned, leaning back as strands of the world twisted into a makeshift chair beneath him. It formed under his weight, crumbling slightly but holding firm enough.
"But you know what?" He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. "I'll leave it to you all. Where do we begin this next scavenger hunt, hmm?" He added. "Or maybe the vote will be decided at some point, who knows?"
His arms, half-melted and dripping, folded behind his head as he relaxed into the chair. The Observer buzzed with alarm, watching him warily.
"No need to rush," Gaster added with a long exhale, the light in his eyes flickering and dimming. "Let's see what happens." He motioned. "Consider this my...union mandated break."
And just like that, he seemed to detach himself from the moment, his responsibilities slipping away like the fragments of reality around them.
The void stretched wider, and for now, the choice was left in your hands.