A/N: I wrote this pretty late last night, but it's very good! I love it so much. :) This is a short one-shot, but it's absolutely loaded with angst. Enjoy!

Playtime

Their feet crunched through the snow. Wind pushed past them, ruffling the ribbon in their dirty hair. Dull eyes looked out over the monochrome landscape. The toy knife hung at their side, dripping with fresh dust. They kept walking.

When they reached the bridge, having not flinched at a single occurrence that happened on the walk there, they let themself shuffle to a halt. Still staring ahead with those dull, empty eyes.

Footsteps pulled up behind them. The figure's weight dragged through the snow, heavy and slow. A chill settled over the area.

The comedian said his bit, but they did not move. They stared straight ahead, until they saw the second figure approaching while the trash-bag's impatience grew. Now that they could see the idiot, they allowed themselves to slowly turn. They reached their hand out carelessly, gripped his, and-

The knife disappeared into the space behind his ribs.

Sans choked, just as a scream rang out. The skeleton stared at them with disbelief, shocked they had broken the numbing routine. A brief glimpse of a smile graced his broken features, and then the remnants of his body drifted away on the wind.

"SANS!" Papyrus screeched, running at full speed now. "SANS- NO- SANS- SA-" He cut himself off and stared at the small pile of dust that laid in the white, white snow. His gaze was tugged up to the human's by the cold, black string that had also yanked his brother's soul. "HUMAN-" He began once more, but then cut himself off again.

His posture slouched slightly, seemingly sagging under his grief, but the human could detect the readiness in his stance, the speed it could provide him.

"Human..." His voice rumbled, crackling with energy and burning through the falling snow into the very core of the earth. Quietly, as if it didn't matter in the slightest, as if the entire universe hadn't been defied and rewritten for this moment, as if everything wasn't falling apart around him, the skeleton's eyes began to glow a gentle orange. It was a warm color, highlighted with honeyed yellow and sunflower sunlight.

White flared in the empty socket, shrieking with power as he lunged forward, "HOW COULD YOU?!" White like bone, like snow, like innocence and like fur and like a bleaker terror than even death could ring.

The attacks strike out hard and fast, unrelenting into their pursuit. No matter how the human dodges, they are always followed. Bone after bone strikes their body. An orange one sticks out of their thigh, a white out out of their side, a blue one out of their arm. They're forced to keep moving and remain still at the same time, and suddenly their soul in encased, thrown down to the mighty earth.

"You're blue now!" Papyrus sneers, and drags them through a line of attacks. Their health is dropping rapidly, approaching zero before they've even had a chance to strike out and-

What is this?! Where's the easy attacks?! Where are his 'fair' turns?! And most of all-

Where did that blaster come from?!

The human barely manages to roll to the side, a red beam larger than a tree demolishing the ground where they stood. They stare at the crater, and feeling creeps up behind their eyes. Not guilt, but true remorse, they think, and pure terror, crashing over them like a tsunami, an earthquake, and a volcano all rolled into one devastating effect.

Papyrus isn't playing anymore.

They almost can't find words, but as they scramble for some kind of safety, they manage a soul-shaking plea- "I'm sorry!"-

But the younger brother doesn't hesitate, following after with deadly accuracy and eyes brighter than screaming suns.

"'Sorry' won't bring him back!"

Papyrus grabs the back of their sweater, swinging them up to his horrifying height and bringing their face close to his. His teeth curl in mockery of a smile, instead showing off something jagged and fierce, demanding and unapologetic and entirely defying everything they thought made up his being-

"Now you go back," he hisses through his teeth, and the smell of death slaps them across the face almost as hard as his glove, "and yo s-"

A solid, white bone strikes through their throat, as they yet stare him in the eyes. The firm attack is twisted in their neck, ripping tissue and spraying blood across the gritty, grey snow.

Red fragments shatter across the ground.

...

They wake up in a patch of golden flowers.

A/N: QUESTION OF THE UPDATE: Would you guys be interested if I open an account to release some of my older, original stories? I have a few that I'm proud of, but I don't think I'll publish. Would that be something you guys want to read?