Flowey - Arm Break

“Give me your arm.”



Shaking, Papyrus extended his left arm. Flowey slipped one of his vines from around Papyrus' neck and twined it around Papyrus' arm from wrist to elbow, sliding along under the steel vambrace. He could feel the bones under the thick padding the skeleton wore, softer and more pliant than flesh. Not that it made a whit of difference-- even hard muscle was as nothing compared to his vines.



For a moment, he simply stroked Papyrus' forearm, as though comforting a skittish pet. One that needed more training.



“Papyrus,” he said, gently. “I'm going to break your arm. Don't struggle.”



“No!” Papyrus pulled against Flowey's grip, too exhausted to put up much of a fight despite his panic. “No, no, no, no-”



“You keep saying no to me, Papyrus.” Flowey wrapped the vine tighter. The creak of the bones bending under the pressure was drowned out by Papyrus' blubbering, but he could feel it.



Papyrus felt it too, going rigid. “No, no, no,” he whispered, “No, please, no, no, noooo-” The final syllable rose to a shriek as Flowey bore down, pushing the slimmer bone past its limit and snapping it in two.



“Stop saying that word to me, Papyrus.” Flowey watched as Papyrus scrabbled at the vine around his arm with his free hand. He couldn't put much strength into it, shaking and bawling like a child. Pathetic. He gave the remaining bone a hard, twisting wrench. He felt the crack spiral down the bone's length under his grip.



Papyrus screamed. Flowey gave the ruined arm a final squeeze and let go of both arm and neck. Without the support, Papyrus pitched forward. He landed badly and howled in renewed pain when his broken arm was jostled by the impact. The skeleton pulled his arm in close to his chest, curling into a fetal position on his side instinctively to shield the injury with the rest of his body.



“A member of the Royal Guard wouldn't cry about a broken arm,” Flowey said, over the whimpers and hiccuping sobs. “But, I won't tell anyone.”



He let Papyrus cry it out for a few minutes. Maybe this had been a good thing, in the long run. Papyrus clearly had a lot of built up tension that he was now getting out of his system. Crying was healthy, right? He'd heard that somewhere.



Flowey certainly felt better.

* * *

Flowey is Not a Good Life Coach, Chapter 5