He’d survived and thrived without succumbing to the Fell universe’s darkness. In this world, it was kill or be killed, and until this moment, Papyrus had been above that rule. Sans’ principled brother had dust on his hands, literally and figuratively. A monster, once dusted, could not be revived. Papyrus could never go back to what he had been. Why take a life when you can dominate another monster completely? Papyrus’ discipline must have slipped and he’d made a mistake, or someone had taken that choice from him. Papyrus didn’t kill he had impeccable control over his magic. The events of the day, the events that had driven his brother to this, were written all over Papyrus’ face in congealed blood and monster dust. The tall skeleton’s deep crimson eyelights were feral and haunted, but it wasn’t Papyrus’ expression that made Sans take an involuntary step backwards. Papyrus whirled, his frenetic motions absent of their usual careful efficiency. Sans extended a hand, brushing his phalanges lightly along Papyrus’ tense shoulder to alert the taller skeleton to his presence. Or if I’ll die, ‘cause I just never sleep] Undisturbed sheets told a story of Papyrus’ constant struggles with insomnia the dark, inescapable reality of Underfell wore on Papyrus the most when he was forced to be alone with his thoughts. Clothed only in the bone-tight bodysuit he wore beneath his imposing Royal Guard outfit, the tall, slim skeleton appeared almost frail in the stark light of the hallway that fell into the darkened room. Papyrus stood in the center of the room, hands tightly clenched, facing his window but clearly staring at nothing except the memories replaying in his head. A chill ran down the stocky skeleton’s spine, and his soul became heavy with dread as he pushed open the door to Papyrus’ bedroom. Sans couldn’t simply let his brother suffer he followed Papyrus, hurrying up the stairs noisily on his much shorter legs, dodging other dislodged articles of clothing as he went.Ī chalky substance dulled the sheen on the burnished battle body, the fitted leather pants, and the elegant leather boots Sans noticed as he passed them by in pursuit of his brother. Discarding the cherished possession as if shedding the weight of the world, Papyrus drifted up the stairs, a pale ghost of himself. “Papyr-” The sound of the heavy chest armor hitting the floor cut off Sans’ sentence like a guillotine for words. Papyrus’ venerated battle body, always meticulously polished and proudly worn, dragged behind him. Instead, Papyrus came through the door as he never did, quietly, his harsh and too loud voice silenced by whatever catastrophic failure had dragged his proud bearing into a miserable slouch of defeat. Sans expected Papyrus to spontaneously combust when he came home and saw his big brother swilling mustard on the couch lazily while that infernal sock still took up valuable living room floor space. Even the Great and Terrible Papyrus can’t keep the innate violence of Underfell at bay forever…Ĭontains: NSFW (18+ only), intense situations, language, explicit sexual content, fontcest/fellcest This kind of goes with the idea from No Lips to Seal that even in Underfell, Papyrus isn’t really a killer. Based on artwork by psicro and the corresponding song.
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