#crucification

“Nyeh….” Papyrus groans as the hammer impales the nail into his right hand, blood oozing from the hole, just as his left hand and crossed feet.

The wooden cross bears no comfort, much to his dismay, and stray splinters poke and prodding at his ribs. Translucent orange tears stream down his face, but Sans just wipes them away, his eye sockets sullen and his eye lights ringed with a purple hue. The older skeleton caresses his younger brother’s face, kneeling down to press kisses across his cheekbones. Papyrus shudders from the act, but reminds himself that this is the only way to save his brother from the madness. He must do whatever he can.

“Bro, you are an angel,” Sans’s long tongue flicks a droplet of blood from his hands, “All you need now is your halo.”

The older skeleton reaches to his side, and places a buttercup flower crown on top of Papyrus’s head, then sighs wistfully, one of eye sockets twitching. The younger brother whimpers, wondering how something so light can weigh so heavy on top of him. Sans snaps his fingers and the entire cross flicks into a blue haze, his eye glowing blue and yellow as a sign of his activated magic. He steadily brings the cross up, until Papyrus is high above the ground and the wood is planted neatly in the snow. He groans from the pressure of the nails, the wind and snow tickling his face.

“S-Saaaans,” Papyrus moans, the height and the temperature making him dizzy and his bones rattling behind the howls of the wind.

“Shhhh, don’t worry, Angel,” Sans hums, leaning against the wood, “You will save us all. You will free the Underground. I will make sure of it,”

Papyrus’s head spins in confusion until he squints and notices a figure coming out of the the large ruins door. He watches them traverse through the Snowdin forest with ease, as if the whole terrain was familiar to them, though he can’t tell what it is yet until they got closer and closer, till he finally recognizes it as a human. His soul races even more as a burst of old energy rejuvenates him, eager to carry out his lifelong dream, then remembering his predicament. The human stops at the cross before him, their head tilting, then looking up straight through his soul. He gasps in horror, his nerves unraveling as their bright red eyes and crooked smile pierced through his soul with their knife.