Welcome to The Ways I've Died, an Undertale fic.
Warning: This is super angsty. Someone dies at least once every chapter, with thoughts of suicide, depression, and all sorts of stuff.
Why? Well, this idea stuck with me and wouldn't leave, even after a year of trying to ignore it. Secondly, I wanted to take a spin on the whole Frisk-Chara "Chara is evil!" relationship, and all that fun stuff that the fandom bickers about. Great times.
Anyway, this is looking to be about 30 chapters or so, with a new chapter every day.
(BTW, Fighter's Block is great. I have a 500 word minimum for each chapter (I hope), and that 'game' (or is it really just a game... *hee*) helps me challenge my writing block.
Character used for this chapter: Karen, bookkeeper.
~Inspired Gracidea
"My soul is paralyzed"
Fall. Die. Reset. Fall. Survive. Reset. Fall. Die. Reset. Fall. Survive. Reset. Fall. Die. Reset.
It was a never-ending cycle. Wake up in a bed of golden flowers, traverse first the ruins and then the underground. Meet Toriel, the Skelebros, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, and Asgore. Visit Snowdin, Hotland, the Waterfall, the throne room. Eat pie, donuts, hot cats, ice cream, spaghetti. Fight and spare. Fight and spare. Spare and fight. Find items hidden in the snow, offer a cup of water to a dehydrated fish. Wake up in a bed of golden flowers again.
It was just...tiring. So tiring. True, Frisk never grew tired of spending time with Toriel, of swapping puns with sans, going on "dates" with Papyrus, visiting Grillby's and Muffet's Bakery, alternatively. They never stopped encouraging Undyne and Alphys, never got tired of seeing Mettaton achieve his dream. They were never grew tired of seeing the Underground, and how beautiful it was compared to the Surface.
But...they were tired. Tired of the Resets. Tired of having to run through the same lines with those they loved. Tired of waking up in a bed of golden flowers, knowing that they had achieved a happy ending, only for it to slip out of their fingers. Tired of waking up in relief that whatever force had compelled them to slaughter the monsters of the Underground had fallen silent, slinking into the back of their mind. Tired of the voices in their head, that spoke nonsense half the time. Tired of their limbs being tugged in directions they did not want to go, sometimes gently, sometimes with so much force it made them cry out. Tired of seeing Sans' tired face, aware as they were that the world had changed around them. Tired of saving Asriel, of saving everyone, only for all that hard work to vanish when the world faded to black.
There was no pattern. No sense to the madness. Frisk had forgotten how many times the world had been Reset. Forgotten how many times they had achieved each different ending. Being allowed onto the surface, to let the monsters see the surface, to see the sunrise. Being caught unaware in an unfortunate situation that led to the "Game Over" Reset. Being slain by Asgore, Flowey, or Undyne. Being stopped in the Judgement Hall, sans standing over their broken soul. Those were the best endings when the voices screamed for them to kill the monsters. If no one else would stop them, sans would. But then there were times when sans failed, when they landed a killing blow on him. Those were the worst.
Fall. Die. Reset. Fall. Survive. Reset. Fall. Die. Reset. Fall. Survive. Reset. Fall. Die. Reset.
They were currently sitting in a chair in Toriel's house on the Surface, staring at a piece of cinnamon pie. The world had been quiet recently. Too quiet. It was going to happen again. The world was going to Reset.
This run was one of the neutral ones. Which wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Recently, the runs had swung in extremes. Pacifist. Genocide. A different Genocide. A nearly perfect Pacifist. A dusty Genocide.
*Are you not hungry, my child? Toriel asked, head tilted in concern.
*You tell her dinner filled you up, and that you're going to sleep.
*Very well, my child. She rose, placing a furry kiss on Frisk's head. *Sleep well.
Frisk nodded, climbing the stairs to their room, sliding under the covers. With one hand, they sent a message to sans.
*[Still here. Morning soon.]
They would not Reset. They never Reset. But something else would. So they had to comfort each other as best they could. The two, sometimes three, who were aware.
*sleep tight, kiddo.
*You thank sans, tucking your phone under your pillow. You eventually fall asleep.
When Frisk wakes up, they are lying on a bed of golden flowers.
*Déjà vu, huh?