Sanders Sides Whumpshots

"I'm not done with you" (Moxiety)

Warning, this is word vomit. It's 2:38am as I type this. I'm supposed to be asleep. My mind started going crazy, I needed to do something so strated writing this shit.

Tw: alot of graphic gore, breaking bones, u!virgil, he's like, getting revenge, and implied u!Patton just...lol

Virgil stabbed the knife into Pattons chest.

Blood splattered on his face, covering his purple hoodie in stains.

The look on his face was pure rage and annoyance.

God. He'd been waiting for years to do this.

Seeing the life drain out of his eyes was satisfying. It feuled his need for revenge.

Virgil watched with crazed eyes as a dull one took over the man underneath him, blood pouring onto his shirt puddles around him like water.

Virgil put his hands around his neck, forcing what life remained, out.

A gurgled noise escaped Pattons throat, desperalty clawing at Virgils wrists with what might he had left. Which wasn't alot.

In fact, he barely fought back. The amount of pressure on his neck was enough to make his windpipe break, making his airway completely cave in on itself.

Virgil eventually let go, watching Patton struggle to breathe. The blood pouring out his chest pooled around him, submerging him in a rich, red crimson.

Virgil stood up, standing over the man he was once straddling.

He looked at his almost lifeless body, a sort of satisfaction beamed in his chest.

He smiled. Not a genuine smile. A crazed, psychopathic smile. He did this, not Virgil. It wasn't his fault. Nothing could be his fault.

He stomped on Pattons face, hearing his glasses snap, the glass digging into Pattons lifeless eyes, blood seeping out of them as the glass lay lodged in there.

Virgil stomped his head again, and again, and again, until he was sure he heard a sickening crunch underneath his sneakers.

Next, he moved onto his legs, summoning a metal baseball bat.

He admired it, turning the bat around to admire all the handiwork it took, before swinging it above his head and bashing Pattons knees.

Patton screamed. A scream of pure terror and crave for death. The type of scream you'd scream upon hearing.

He watched as Patton helplessly sobbed, his right knee comepletly broken, a mess of bones and bruised skin.

He moved onto the next knee, again, bringing to bat above his head and bashing his knees.

This time, Patton released a low groan, not having the energy to scream anymore.

He craved death, wishing for once they, as sides, could die like humans.

Virgil watched as tears fell down Pattons face, laughing as he kept falling in and out of consiousness.

"Oh no." He said, a wicked grin on his face, "I'm not done with you." He said, throwing the bat to the side and kneeling down next to Patton.

Pattons chest was barely rising and falling. Small, desperate breaths escaping his mouth.

Virgil took one of Pattons hands in his, squeezing it, before snapping it back in a quick motion, hearing a satisfying snap.

Patton couldn't scream anymore. The pain was unbearable. He just lay there waiting for the death that would never come.

Virgil snapped his second finger, twisting and turning it, watching as Patton ever so slightly whimpered.

On the third finger, Virgil repeated his previous actions, snapping it back and forth, until it was just broken bone being moved inside his fingers.

Once he was sure that hand was completely numb, he walked over to Pattons right hand and stomped on it.

It would've been nicer if Patton could still make noise. That was the nice thing about this. Maybe he could try again another time.

By now, Patton was barely, barely breathing, any human would've been dead a long time ago. His knees were bent in all different directions, his fingers were all facing various painful looking angles, the blood looked like a swimming pool compared to his body, and his face was covered in many different shaped and sizes cuts and bruises.

Pattons body lay there. Lifeless. Maybe he was dead. Virgil knew he wasn't, in fact , he wasn't even REAL!

He hysterically laughed, clutching his hair and falling to his knees.

NONE OF THIS WAS REAL!

The vast white laughed aswell. Not with him, however. They laughed at his stupidity, his naiveness, thinking something like this was actually real.

Virgil snapped his fingers, making the clone of Patton dissappear, not a single drop of blood left on the ground.

Virgils laughs turned to cries, to sobs, to screams.

He was a fucking mess, and he didn't know what to do.

-----

With the whole Patton thing, I had no idea who to do. This helped though so yeah.