Chara vs. Omega Flowey

[demonthatcomes]

((This is a post continuing off from this thread between Chara and cactuspaws.))

Warning: Graphic violence, torture, and masochism.

Comments

[cactuspaws]

[The vines keep coming even after Chara has fallen, each one wrapping around another body part as if to form a cocoon of vines around them. Soon there's enough to lift Chara bodily off the ground and one vine in particular coils around their throat. Omega Flowey giggles.]

So how would you like to die today? Oh, I know! I could melt your skin off. Or I could squeeze you until your eyes pop out! Or I could tear you apart piece by bloody piece.

[With each suggestion, his eyes get bigger and his teeth grow sharper and it looks like his face is getting ready to burst through the screen with each intermittent flicker. Then he stops. The vine around Chara's neck loosens just a little.]

But first I want you to tell me something, Chara. I wanna know just how much you HATE me. Go ahead. T e l l m e.

[demonthatcomes]

[The poison slowly eats away at their skin. Hurts so good, man.]

Trust me, I'd be glad to. But here's the thing... [They close their eyes and smiled.] You used to be the only friend I've ever had my entire life. The only person who actually got me. It's kind of funny, really. I hate just about everyone in this wretched plane of existence... all except you, Mom, and Dad. Humanity can suck it and I don't care what happens to other monsters, but I can't hate you even if I tried. Even after what you've become. Because honestly? I don't blame you. I would've done the same thing. In fact, that's exactly what I did, and I would've gotten away with it if I hadn't been stopped at the last second. Being tortured and killed by you would be the greatest justice the world has ever seen.

[Their laughter crackles through the void]

D҉̶͖̼̬̜͙ơ̢̞͖̜͞ ̸̟̟͓̟̙̞͉͡ͅi̜̫̩̭͡ṯ͚̩̩̗͖͘,̤͢͜ ̴̢͙̙Á̵͚̠̟s̵҉̹̠̘̘̗̬́r̼͕̦̲i͎̰̳͈̫͠e̡͍͜l͇͉̤͘.̡̹͔͕̯̱̫̣̕K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢ K͟͏̴̫̝̹͇͙̺̜̤̬̪̭̙̜̯̘̳ ̵̹̳͕͖͓̰͘͜I̶͏̝̻̹͍̰͈̮͖̲̙͕̮͓̞̘͎͢ͅͅ ̴̴̷͈̼̟̺̠̲̣̱͉̳̳̘͚͘͞ͅL̡̡̙̭͈̦̯̠̻̮̲̳͜͞ ̴̵̦̯͉̺̱͉̯̺̲̝̥͉͈̗͔͢͠͡ͅL̨̩̲̤̗̞̫̬̤̕̕ ̶̶̢̡̗̮̦͙̪͓͢M̵̢̩̣͚͎̜̘͎̙ ̶͍̮͚̘̻̭̝̮̭̩̕ͅͅE̶̷̡͚̗̗̩͈͙͉͍̞̩̰̦̖͉͢

1/2

[cactuspaws]

[ WH— WHAT? What are these words pouring out of Chara's mouth? Why are they saying this? Why?? They can't mean it. They CAN'T!

Flowey freezes, his four organic eyes all staring at Chara and shaking in their sockets. Even the vines tangled around Chara's body are trembling and on his screen, a look of panic flickers.]

2/2

[cactuspaws]

STOP IT! STOPPPPP!!

[He roars over Chara's voice, vines tightening around their throat to cut off that suicidal mantra.]

YOU—

[With both paws, he brings Chara right up to his screened face where he can bore into them with furious red eyes.]

You can't just not hate me! I BETRAYED YOU. YOU HAVE TO HATE ME!

[demonthatcomes]

[The poison is doing its job, and now a series of tiny black holes are popping up all over Chara's skin. Their choking becomes a gurgle, but that demented grin remains plastered on their countenance.]

à̶͓̯̬̱̙̺͎͚̘̫́ͅͅ ̷̴̣̟̙̱͔͇̝̘̰̤̹͓͔͔̞̲̀l̷̨̡̩͙̤̞͎̙̭̖͓̞͇͙̺͚̳͚͝ ̴̢̫̖̼̝̣̥͚̤̩̖̼͙̥͚̮͓̀ͅm̨̤̼͎̣͖͎̞̼͕͠͝͞ͅ ̷̸̧̳̗͙̰̼̱̩̺̠̼̱̺̲̙̻̟́͢o̡͎͓̖͔̤̥͕̜̕ ̢̨͍̤̣͎̜̫̥͢͠͝ś͠҉͙̭͔͓̤͎̟͕̲̻̫̼̞̫̥́ ̢͇̠̠̻̞͝ṱ̠͕͚̼̟̜̙̫̲̖̀͠ ̸͢҉̜̰̹̭͍̭̼̠̩t̥͔̖̪̖͡͞͝͝ ̡̡͎͈̼̗̼͈͔̤̤̰͚̖͍͙͈̯̫͟ḩ̞͕̥̥͓̲̭̝̲̼̣̪͙̟̰͝͡ͅ ̢͔͕͔̦͓̞̻́̕͟e̷̡͞҉̺͉̖̗̥̰͔̦̖ͅ ̥̖̰̗͇̠̦͎̠͈̭̘̙̩͚́̀ͅr͏̴҉̲̳̼̤͖͍̠̭̗ ̵̧̯̰͙̞̭̪̪͢ẹ̡̧͇̺̝͍̟͖̜̳͔̝͖͉̣͖̪

[cactuspaws]

[Panic flickers across his face again, this time with a gasp.

It's at this point he decides Chara has had enough suffering and promptly squeezes the last bits of life out of them. And while it takes no effort at all in the physical sense, it's not at all an easy task and he takes no pleasure in it whatsoever.

Once the deed is done, he lowers Chara's remains and carefully sets them on the ground, vines unraveling. There's no expression on his face—the screen is filled with digital snow, lines skipping across the picture now and then, until it goes black.]


[ Upon RESET, his health and Chara's are fully restored. Flowey's screen is still dark though it appears to be on. The picture is scrambled and flickery, like it's trying to come into focus.]