As if taking control of the skeleton’s soul wasn’t enough, the little brother had to maliciously abuse the older by throwing him around like a dog toy. He was thrown up so quickly that Papyrus could barely feel anything but intense suffocation. It felt as if his body was overwhelmed, it felt as if something had not only snatched his soul, but yearned for it so much that they crushed it under his fingers. The grip around his being felt like a grip of utter rage. Whatever Sans was experiencing, just by feeling this sensation on him, he knew he had to stop it. For a moment, as he was lifted up, a quick gasp was inhaled. Papyrus remembers that argument they had a while back, where Sans took control of him and threw him against the wall. It was out of a blind attempt to get his way, but they made up in the end. What Papyrus was more concerned about, was the fact that he could barely feel freedom in his grasp. Back when they argued, the controlling happened slowly. Yet now, it felt like Sans wanted to throw his brother around.
Papyrus was too focused on trying to free himself, even though he knew it wouldn’t work. He has the same powers himself, and his used it on his bones as well as some plants in the forest. Those within the grasp are immovable and cannot grasp reality until they are released from the magic that kept them captive. Yet still the skeleton shook. He kicked his legs and thrashed his arms, letting out worried shrieks and yells as he was thrown around. Thankfully no bones were broken this time, though close to. Papyrus was thrown into a sharp row of bones that he was slammed into at full force. His younger brother put all he could in that blow, throwing his arm down as hard as he could by his thigh.
A long and exasperated grunt was heard from Papyrus, as well as the soft sound of cracking and falling dust. It poured for a few moments, but nothing more than that. Pain surged through his entire skeletal system. His toes shook, his thighs seized, his head jerked back, Papyrus’ ribs contracted from the sting that traveled around his body. He wanted, oh did he want to just scream out in pain – to let out all the pain and fear he felt in that moment. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that. His facade was a part of it – even if Sans was lost in surreal madness, he couldn’t let weakness show. Not only that, but he learned in his years of raising his little brother, that he couldn’t show that he wasn’t in charge of a situation. Especially one such as this. He needed to make sure that he too, would remain calm. If not, the situation would escalate and drastic measures would have to be imposed. Measures that the skeleton wanted nothing about.
But barely did he have the time to rest. A few tears slipped out of his sockets as he squinted his face, but Papyrus spent too much time trying to keep calm. He tried not to scream and cry, he tried not to shake so much. But he hadn’t felt a pain as harsh as this since he was a little child. He remembers punch after punch, and even then, nothing compared to this. Perhaps it was because his brother was inducing this splitting ache. It would make no sense though, Papyrus’ mind would ramble on as he sat up slowly, his hand trying to find the fracture. For he knew Sans better than to hurt him like that.
Digits traced vertebrae as Papyrus searched for the fracture. He focused so intensely on that, that by the time Sans prepared his next attack, the skeleton just barely missed it. After he couldn’t find where the injury was, the older brother slowly twisted his head towards his brother. A part of him had hoped that all of it was over, what with the pause that happened. Even if the pause was quite brief, he could tell that Sans had found some motivation in this fight. This nightmare was fueling his old enthusiasm – Papyrus was happy that he could have that back, but not in this way. As his head had churned and popped over to meet Sans, he was not brought with peace, but with war.
Bone after bone after bone after bone – a whole row of them.
Papyrus panicked, a short scream escaping his jaw.
Papyrus’ own flame exploded for a moment out of the sheer terror.
Life flashed, but thankfully, the memories stopped. Papyrus put a swift hand behind him, which served as a shove to push himself up. He used all of his weight in a matter of seconds to plunge himself up off of the ground, his hand being the spring and his legs being the force that moved him forward. Such adrenaline made him stumble, arms flailing for a few moments in front of him. His legs had rattled about as he was thrown forward by his own might, surprised that he actually made it out of his little brother’s line of sight. Even more so, after he felt the soft breeze of bones graze by on his fibulae.
Heavy breathing and a racing soul( that was ecstatic to be free from such a horrific grip ), Papyrus churned his head to face Sans again, and what he saw probably could have destroyed all hope he had right then and there. For a moment, he was at a loss of words. He had absolutely no idea what to say. He saw a blaster – he had heard about it before from Sans, about how he was building it with the scientists back at the lab. He gulped when he saw it, the whole underground him suddenly void of any life whatsoever. It was if someone put a hole in the middle of the room, sucking in everything but the two skeletons, and the blaster. The aura within it’s mouth grew harsher, and the hole grew larger. The suction from such a powerful vacuum asphyxiated the skeleton, leaving him at a loss for words. He was quite literally stunned in fear.
That was when he realized that if he didn’t stop Sans,
he would die.
The begging was quiet at first.
Slow… repetitive, but slow.
But it increased with the power of the aura within the blaster’s mouth.
It got louder and louder, more and more intense – Papyrus was reaching out now, taking a couple of steps forward. His hand was extended out in front of him, begging his little brother to stop, to calm down. Anxious sockets flickered back and forth, back and forth, double-taking not only the weapon and his little brother, but his own life which once again had flashed before his eyes. Steps were increasing, calls were booming.
Until he was dashing at his brother now, hand still extended, sockets focused on his brother’s, trying to get him to stop. Papyrus was screaming now, calling out to the real brother, underneath the lucid seams –
“ SANS ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU’RE DREAMING.
YOU HAVE GOT TO TRY TO STOP ! ! !
I-IF YOU DO NOT, YOU’LL BE SORRY! “
