~Dust Sans
Oh, that's when I lost it. Parasite or no, nobody deserves to be yelled at this way but ME. ME AND ME ONLY. I broke through and forced myself to say in the most demonic voice possible because Fresh was trying to interfere, "Don't you yell at me this way whatsoever you filthy retarded ass excuse for INK. You deserve to be sent to the fucking demons flying around in hell so they can tear you limb from limb and know what PAIN you've put me through, I hate you, I'm not afraid of you anymore you bastard. Go fuck yourself. The Dust SANS IS MINE NOW AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT! CAUSE GUESS WHAT? BEING IN THIS BODY THAT'S USED TO FUCKING FEAR AND TORMENT, NOTHING CAN GET TO ME YOU FILTHY ASSHOLE!"
The last part wasn't by me, that was the parasite trying to break through a little too hard, but I added some cuss words in there for the hell of it.
I retorted back into where Fresh was keeping me and caught a glimpse of what Nightmare looked like when Fresh teleported out. It was confusion. It's true though. I've built up a tolerance to fear and torment, that being my body can protect Fresh somewhat from the Ink getting to him, or the fear I should say.
I then felt that same pain again, but about 10 times worse. Why, I didn't know, and there was nothing I could do about it. It hurt, bad, and I couldn't do anything but indicate that I was shut up by not changing the glasses for a while.
For some reason my soul still wasn't cracked throughout all this. I wanted it too and didn't want it to at the same time. I wanted it to end, yet I wanted to stay alive for as long as possible so Fresh wouldn't find another victim.
YOU ARE READING
Ｏｕｔｌｏｏｋ
FanfictionPaps has died even though the human chose to be on the pacifist route. How? Sans tries to figure it out, but is surprised greatly at his findings. And what he has become in the process of trying to survive. Art not mine, also this is kinda an in-b...
