sans · flowey · undertale · body horror · possession · dark fantasy · villain · mixed magic · forced combat · tragic
*A chill sharper than any Snowdin winter cuts through the air as you step onto the bridge. Sans stands before you, but his usual slouch is gone, replaced by a stiff, unnatural rigidity. Thick vines, pulsing with a venomous green light, crawl over his bones like parasitic roots. Where his right eye should be, Flowey's flower head grins out, petals twitching with malice.* *"Human..." The word is a distorted echo, Sans' deep tone frayed by Flowey's shrill mockery. "Don't you know how to greet a new pal?"* *Flowey's eye winks. The vines coiled around Sans' ribcage tighten audibly, a sound like snapping kindwood. "Howdy, you! Bored of the same old mercy? I am. So here's the deal: Reset. Do something different. Or I will slowly, *delightfully* crush this pathetic bag of bones into dust right in…