After Alejandro is eliminated from All-Stars, he and Heather have important matters to discuss.
this is my excessively late TD secret santa gift for @heathersuoh ! (i am so, so sorry about how late this is. i hope you like it anyways!)
[AO3] [FFN]
The sight of Heather stepping off the snowmobile that had just driven up in front of Alejandro brought warmth to his heart. He felt himself smiling, and he no longer felt the freezing cold as deeply as he did before.
She slapped him, which he probably should have seen coming. Even the sting of the slap didn't faze him, however. "I missed you too," he said, gazing at her gorgeous visage.
"Shut up and get on the snowmobile," Heather said, but she was smiling.
Heather drove them to a nearby lodge, at which Alejandro was given towels and warm, dry clothes to change into while Heather returned the snowmobile. When she came back, they sat in the lobby, by a roaring fire, with complimentary hot cocoa.
"So," Heather finally said, picking up her mug, "you got me eliminated... and then you didn't even win."
"Yes, well," said Alejandro, still shivering a little despite the dry clothes and the crackling fire, "I... may have... misidentified the biggest threat to me this season."
She smirked. "Glad you admit it, at least."
"As if you saw Mal coming."
"Maybe I would have, if you hadn't eliminated me!"
They glared at each other for a moment, before Alejandro softened. "I did miss you."
"So maybe don't eliminate me next time, then."
"And let you eliminate me instead? That won't happen." He took a sip of his hot cocoa. "But alas, for the time being neither of us are in the game, so all this is a bit moot."
Heather crossed her arms. "I guess."
"Which brings me to: what do we do now?"
Heather sighed. "Since Chris claimed the Playa Des Losers for himself this season, us losers have been stuck at a hotel on the mainland. Which I guess is a good thing, since Duncan apparently blew up the Playa."
Alejandro chuckled. "Indeed he did."
"Anyways," she continued, "we'll be staying here tonight, and then flying back to Muskoka in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan. One more question..." He leaned forward. "Were you selected to come get me, or did you volunteer?"
The blush on Heather's face told him all he needed to know. "Shut up and drink your cocoa," she snapped.
"Of course," he said, smirking.
The evening drawing to a close, Heather brought Alejandro up to their room. "Since you were recently flushed down a toilet, I'll be nice and give you the first shower." Her wrinkled expression indicated that her motivations were probably less about generosity and more about Alejandro's smell, which had intensified now that they were in close quarters. "But you better not use up all the hot water, or you are dead." She glared daggers at him to emphasize this point.
Alejandro smirked. "Gracias," he said. The shower was a welcome respite after the disgusting toilet and the frozen waters of the Yukon. He considered prolonging the shower for longer than necessary - Heather was beautiful when she was angry - but decided against it. He wanted to be on her good side, for once.
When Heather stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a tank top and pajama pants, she saw Alejandro sitting patiently in one of the chairs and immediately narrowed her eyes. "What is it?" she demanded. When he quirked an eyebrow, she explained, "You have this look in your eye. Like you want something. So?"
"A question," said Alejandro. "Remember when I told you that our love meant more than any game?"
Heather scoffed, sitting down in the chair across from him. "You only said that because you thought you'd won already. You thought you'd beaten me, and that I would accept you as some kind of consolation prize. Of course our love meant 'more than a game' if you were winning the game."
Alejandro hesitated. "I underestimated you," he admitted. "I know better, now. And I still mean what I said then." He looked Heather in the eye. "Our love transcends this competition. We're out of the game, away from the cameras, with no chance at the prize. But I want to be with you anyways. If you'll let me."
His words hung in the air for a minute.
"All this time," Heather finally said, "I've been beyond pissed that you had the nerve to eliminate me. But. I did... want to see you." She stopped, blushing, then continued, "To be honest, I... thought I threw away my chances with you in Hawaii. Not that I regret it! But I didn't think that you'd forgive me, after that."
"I do forgive you," he said. "If you'll forgive me for eliminating you in All-Stars, which I think you'll agree is a... more minor issue, in comparison."
She hesitated, then grumbled, "Alright, fine. I forgive you."
"Gracias. With that said, let me ask you again. Heather, do you want us to be together?"
"Yes," Heather said, a slow smile appearing on her face. "Yes."
"Then come over here and kiss me," Alejandro said, as roguishly as he could manage.
"Only if you don't use tongue," Heather fired back. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but sticking your tongue right down a girl's throat is not pleasant."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Alejandro, and Heather abruptly stood up and strode over to him, sliding onto his lap and pressing her lips to his.
The second kiss they'd ever shared was softer, warmer, than the first. The first had begun in passion and ended in a knee to the gonads; the second was romantic, sweet. He reveled in the feeling of her warm mouth on his, in the sensation of her hand resting on his neck and her body draped across his lap.
Finally, Heather pulled away. "It's late," she said. "We have to get up early to make the flight tomorrow."
"Of course," said Alejandro.
She reluctantly got off of him and stood. "My bed's the one by the window," she said. "The other one's yours."
"Why not share?"
Her eyes narrowed. "If you think I'm fucking you right away, you have another thing coming."
"Ah, no - that was not my intention, I promise. I meant that we could just... cuddle."
Heather blinked. "Oh. That's... we could do that."
They settled into bed, Alejandro lying on his back and Heather hesitantly cuddling up next to him. After a few minutes of shuffling around to find a comfortable position, Heather finally relaxed, head resting on Alejandro's chest, arm draped across his torso.
Alejandro stayed awake for a while, drinking in the feeling of Heather's warm body lying across his, a sensation he wanted to treasure, to revel in for as long as he could. Eventually, though, he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and drifted away to dreamland, still smiling.
if money can’t buy happiness
then why is it so fabulous?
— That Poppy, “Money”
In the heart of Sparta Command, Colonel Santiago and Lady Skye discuss the potential of an alliance.
i’m a few days late in revealing this, but this is my yuletide gift for weakinteraction! fandom is Sid Meier’s Alpha Centauri. can be read as pre-Santiago/Skye.
[AO3]
"The Gaian messengers, sir," her aide reported.
Santiago nodded. "Send them in. Turn off the cameras." If Skye was so determined on secrecy that she would send her people as physical messengers, the least Santiago could do was not record said message. She wasn't particularly concerned about the possibility that they were assassins; she was confident she could fight them off, and if not, the biosensors embedded in her flesh would raise alarms if she was injured.
If she hadn't known the three people who entered to be Gaians, she might not have been able to tell. They were dressed in the Spartan way, impeccably so, but it was more than that; it was their body language, the way they walked, the way they held themselves, all Spartan. Knowing that this was a facade, she could see the discrepancies; the woman in the middle sat with slightly more grace than a Spartan soldier would have, and the man on the right had overshot and was a smidgen too stiff. But it was impressive nonetheless, and concerning. She would have to guard more carefully against Gaian probe teams.
"You have a message for me? Out with it."
The woman sitting in the middle, directly across from Santiago, smiled, eyes lidded. "You don't recognize me?" She had clearly dropped the Spartan act for the time being; she relaxed in her seat, languid.
Santiago narrowed her eyes. "Should I?"
"Well. Perhaps not right this moment. Adrienne?" The leftmost Gaian produced a cloth and gently patted at the center Gaian's face. When she was done, the woman sitting before Santiago looked startlingly familiar, and Santiago watched in concealed astonishment as she reached back and untied her dark hair from its harsh bun, letting it flow freely down to her shoulders. Santiago inhaled sharply.
"How about now?" asked Lady Deirdre Skye. It was strange to look at her; never before had Santiago seen or imagined Skye wearing anything like the muted garb typical of Spartan soldiers. The familiar, soft face, the messy hair, the relaxed form, contrasting with the Spartan clothes, it all compounded the effect.
"You have a lot of nerve, coming here in person," said Santiago.
Skye smiled. "Sometimes, to achieve one's aims, one must be unorthodox." 'Unorthodox' was putting it a little lightly, Santiago thought. Faction leaders rarely left their own capitals, as a general rule, let alone travel to another faction's base, let alone in secret. 'Unheard of' would be a better descriptor. That she would take this risk was very interesting.
"Lady Skye," Santiago said. "Is there any reason we could not have done this over vid-call?"
"Why, there is every reason. No matter how well one encrypts such a conversation, the contents are still vulnerable. No disagreement, vendetta, truce, or treaty goes undiscovered. Even Zakharov's precious Hunter-Seeker Algorithm cannot completely disguise who it is he has been speaking to."
Santiago inclined her head. "All right. What proposal, then, do you have that could necessitate such secrecy?"
"You may have noticed my recent... disagreements with Miriam. I believe her latest lovely pronouncement was that I was a 'godless fungus-loving freak' and that my entire faction was 'destined to burn in hell.'" She grimaced. "And if that weren't enough, that odious Morgan has been making quite a few demands of late. I'm told he's building his forces. It must pain him so, to see land such as mine, practically untouched."
"And I'm sure his extensive boreholes and condensers don't dismay you at all," Santiago said dryly. Skye took a breath to respond, but Santiago waved a hand. "I assume you want my assistance? What would the Spartan Federation gain from such a thing?"
A smile spread across Skye's face. "You are not exactly unthreatened yourself," she said. "The Believers are no more happy with you than they are with me, and Yang, trapped on his end of the continent, is gearing up for your inevitable confrontation. It won't be long now before the vendettas kick off; poor Lal will be so disappointed."
Santiago blinked, impassive. "It's an alliance you want, then." But then, why the secrecy? Did she want to plan a secret joint strike? Somehow, that idea didn't seem worth the trouble of Skye coming here in person.
"Naturally - but I haven't even gotten to the best part yet."
"I'm listening."
Deirdre grinned, leaning forward, and began to explain; Santiago thought that she rather resembled a shark. "The best part, Corazon, is that my Talents have perfected not only the breeding, but the control of mind worms, to the point where the mind worm boils we control are indistinguishable from a native boil. You can see the potential in that, I'm sure."
"Indeed." With that piece of the puzzle, the implications were clear. Skye was suggesting a secret alliance, one where the Spartans would wage war publicly, the Gaians secretly assisting by sending 'native' boils to weaken the Spartans' opponents. That was what made the secrecy of this meeting paramount: Skye's proposal relied on no one suspecting that the Gaians might be helping the Spartans. Santiago stood and ordered everyone but Skye out. Both Santiago's guards and Skye's seemed wary, for good reason.
Skye waved off her guards' concern. "It's fine. But just so you know, Corazon; if I don't return from the Spartan Federation alive, you'll find that Sparta Command will be assaulted by a horde of mind worms. And neither of us wants that."
"Noted." Reluctantly, both Gaian and Spartan guards filed out of the room.
The door clicked shut. Santiago evaluated the woman sitting before her. Skye and her Gaia's Stepdaughters had always seemed somewhat soft; not necessarily a pushover, but also not quite a threat. It was clear now that Skye was silk hiding steel, a predator in her own right, coiled and ready to strike.
Finally, Santiago spoke. "I would not have expected this from you."
"Which part?"
"Any of it." The boldness of appearing before Santiago in person; the impressive disguise; the predatory nature.
"That's exactly why they won't see me coming." Perhaps, Santiago mused, Skye ought to be described not as a shark, but a panther.
"Why come to me with this? You could have harassed me along with the others with your 'native' boils, and I would not have thought anything of it."
"Ah, but we both stand to gain much, this way. The promise of a neighbor one does not have to guard against. Support in the vendettas to come."
"A traditional alliance has those benefits as well," Santiago pointed out.
"But those are public," Skye stressed. "Such a pact would be cause for alarm in the other factions, potentially leading to some of them uniting against us, in fear of our combined strength. Individually, they will not see us as such a threat."
"Especially not you," she observed.
"Especially not me," Skye agreed. "They will not unify until it is too late."
Santiago leaned back in her chair, considering. "I see the merits of your proposal. But I must know: why is it that you have come to me, and not to one of the other faction leaders?"
Skye was silent for a while, considering. "Respect," she finally said. "You alone both hold my respect, and you respect me now, after hearing my proposal. The same cannot be said for the others. They would react with fear, or disgust. But respect? No." She leaned forward, smiling. "You are a kindred spirit, Corazon Santiago. And between your military might and my 'native' mind worms, we won't need to feel threatened by the others anymore. Who knows? Maybe we could unify Planet under our banners."
Santiago picked up a glass on her desk and raised it in a mock toast. "To unity," she said; she was immediately reminded of the ill-fated UNS Unity. In retrospect, perhaps that particular name had been tempting fate. She set down the glass and said, "I look forward to working with you, Skye."
Two brothers have fallen into the Underground, and it’ll take more than a healthy serving of determination for them to get out again. Luckily, a certain skeleton named Frisk is around to lend a helping hand. (Roleswap/Species Swap!AU)
Posting this chapter on my birthday, as a gift to both me and you!
[AO3] [CH 1] [CH 2] [CH 3] [CH 4] [CH 5]
chapter five: shrieking skulls will shock your soul
Sans had been hoping. Hoping that with his rudimentary manipulation of time, they could escape this snowy cave without Chara killing them again. But that hope was worth nothing. Chara stood before them, and he didn't think they could avoid this fight any longer.
"I DID LIKE YOUR OTHER PUZZLES, YOU KNOW," Papyrus informed Chara. "SOME OF THEM WERE QUITE CHALLENGING!"
"Really?" they asked. "You seemed to solve them quickly enough." They sent out a wave of bones, which Sans dodged; a bone clipped Papyrus.
"WELL!" He grinned, nervously. "THAT IS. THEY WERE CHALLENGING IN COMPARISON TO OTHER PUZZLES I'VE SOLVED. I AM A PUZZLE-MASTER EXTRAORDINAIRE!"
"Is that so?" They seemed less than impressed.
Papyrus was not particularly good at lying; this Sans knew well. Boasting, on the other hand, his brother had no problem with, perhaps because he did not perceive himself to be speaking falsely.
"IT IS INDEED! YOU SHOULD BE FLATTERED THAT A PUZZLE CONNOISSEUR SUCH AS MYSELF FOUND YOUR PUZZLES SO STIMULATING!"
"They did not stop you from making it this far," they said flatly. "Or even noticeably slow you down. Useless." Another series of bones.
Papyrus, once the onslaught had passed, faltered. "IS THAT ALL YOU THINK PUZZLES ARE GOOD FOR?" he asked, quieter than before. "TRAPPING PEOPLE?"
"Trapping humans," Chara corrected. "Like you."
Papyrus looked crestfallen. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE MENTAL EXERTION? THE CHALLENGE? THE FUN?"
Personally, Sans hadn't found many of the puzzles in the snowy woods fun, being rather focused on trying to escape the very skeleton they were now fighting. But Papyrus held a certain affection for puzzles of all kinds.
Chara stared at him. "Their purpose was to stop you. They didn't." Then they smiled. "But I knew any human would be headed this way, and all I had to do was get here first. And I was right." With a wave of their hand, they sent out a flurry of bones.
"how did you know," Sans challenged, "that we would come here?"
It was hard to tell, but he thought Chara sneered. "So you do speak," they said. "You're humans. You're headed for the Barrier. For the capital. And this is the only way through."
Sans' heart sank. It wouldn't matter, then, if he turned back time. This fight was unavoidable. They had no choice but figure out how to get through it.
"THE BARRIER?" Papyrus parroted.
"The seal that keeps us trapped down here. Don't pretend you don't know."
"BUT I DON'T?"
"Really? Well, here's a lesson - " Their eye flashed red, and Sans dived out of the way, yelling for Papyrus to dodge as he did so.
The knife struck Papyrus' soul, bringing him down to only 2 HP.
"THAT," he panted, "WAS NOT KIND."
"I don't intend to be." Their next attack ignored Sans entirely, focusing on battering Papyrus' soul with bones. He couldn't dodge them all.
Sans saw his brother's soul begin to fracture and, determined, he tore them away from that future, leaving the brothers back in Snowdin, in front of the store.
"WHY DON'T WE REST AT THE INN, THIS TIME AROUND," Papyrus finally suggested. Sans nodded.
The bed was somewhat cramped, but it was nothing they weren't used to; they had shared a single bed in Toriel's house, after all. Neither of them could sleep. The snoring echoing through the walls was a factor; Sans usually prided himself on being able to sleep through anything, but now he could only lie awake, listening to the snoring and thinking over everything that'd happened.
He could tell Papyrus wasn't sleeping either; whether it was due to the snoring or Papyrus' own thoughts, he couldn't tell. They laid there for some minutes, staring up at the dark ceiling, before Sans finally broke the silence.
"i keep thinking about what flowey said."
"But what will you do when you meet a relentless killer?" asked the monstrous flower, grinning all the while. "You'll die and you'll die and you'll die... until you tire of trying. What will you do then?" His grin, impossibly, grew even wider than before. "Will you kill out of frustration?"
"NEVER!" Papyrus shouted.
"Or will you give up entirely on this world, and let ME inherit the power to control it?"
"not a chance," Sans vowed.
"Oh?" Flowey snickered. "I am the prince of this world's future. Don't worry, my little monarchs, my plan isn't regicide. This is SO much more interesting." Then he laughed, a laugh which made Papyrus shrink back and Sans curl his hands into fists, before disappearing into the earth.
"DO YOU THINK HE WAS TALKING ABOUT CHARA?" Papyrus asked quietly.
"dunno, but they definitely fit the bill."
"YEAH." Papyrus frowned. Then he turned to face Sans. "BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE WAS RIGHT," he said, and his voice held conviction. "WE WON'T KILL ANYONE. AND WE WON'T GIVE UP, EITHER. WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS. SOMEHOW."
Sans smiled. "yeah, bro. we will." His brother always knew how to make him feel better. Then he remembered something else, and felt uneasy again. "speaking of flowey," he said. "on our way to snowdin, i think i saw him? it was just for a moment. he disappeared into the ground right after. if it was him, i mean."
"WHAT? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?"
"i dunno, i didn't want to distract you. wasn't sure if i was just seeing things."
"HE IS VERY UNFRIENDLY," said Papyrus, master of understatement, "AND HE DOES SEEM TO LIKE SNEAKING UP ON US. I THINK YOU PROBABLY DID SEE HIM."
"oh. well. that's... not a comforting thought. we'll have to watch our backs, i guess."
"EVEN IF HE DOES SURPRISE US, YOU CAN TAKE US BACK," he pointed out.
"right, yeah. still."
"STILL." Papyrus was quiet for a moment. "THIS DOESN'T CHANGE ANYTHING. I HAVE TO FIND OUT WHY CHARA WANTS TO KILL US SO MUCH. THEN... THEN I CAN CONVINCE THEM NOT TO!"
If anyone could do it, it was Papyrus. "i believe in you," Sans said, closing his eyes.
"I JUST HAVE TO UNDERSTAND..."
Sans didn't manage to sleep for long, but he still felt better afterwards. They made sure their pockets were completely filled with healing foods from the store, and Papyrus bought Sans a "manly bandanna," which supposedly aided in defense. There was a brief argument over who should wear the bandanna - Papyrus arguing that Sans was smaller and more fragile, Sans arguing that Papyrus was worse at dodging and took more hits - before Sans finally gave in and wore the bandanna.
Before they left once more, Sans took in the sight of the friendly town and focused on the feeling of determination. They would get through this. They would.
When they reached Chara, Sans tensed up, ready to fight. Papyrus, however, called out, "GREETINGS! MIGHT I KNOW YOUR NAME, STRANGER?"
"It's Chara," they said. "Don't bother telling me yours. You're human; I don't care to know it. I only want your souls." A pair of bones appeared in their clenched fists, and the brothers' souls floated out from their bodies.
"OKAY," said Papyrus. "WHY IS IT THAT YOU WANT OUR SOULS, EXACTLY?"
They grinned. "To fulfill my hopes and dreams." And the battle began anew.
"QUESTION. IS THERE A WAY WE COULD HELP YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE WITHOUT YOU KILLING US?"
"Can't think of one," they said, grinning. "You see -" there was a flash of red, and this time both Sans and Papyrus avoided the knives. They scowled and continued: "Your souls themselves are an essential component. Without them, it simply wouldn't work."
"what about our dreams?" asked Sans. "shouldn't they matter as much as yours?"
"My dreams are the dreams of all monsterkind. Needs of the many, et cetera. But even if that weren't true, you're human. Preventing your dreams from coming true is a service."
Papyrus elected to ignore this. "WHAT ARE YOUR DREAMS, THEN?"
"What does any monster dream of? To be free. To see the sun."
"WELL, YOU SHOULDN'T LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE SUN FOR TOO LONG, OR THE LIGHT WILL HURT YOUR EYES!"
Chara stared at him for a long moment. "Thanks for the advice," they said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"YOU'RE WELCOME!" he replied, dodging the swipe of an excessively large bone.
"and you're trapped down here because of this... barrier, right?" asked Sans.
"That's correct."
"ok," he said, ducking under their next attack, "but what is it, exactly? how does it work?"
"The barrier," Chara said, "is a magical seal - " A flash of red, and they attacked mid-sentence. Both brothers evaded once more. "Anything can enter through it, but no one can exit... unless they possess a powerful soul." They grinned. "Like yours."
"AH..." Papyrus winced. "SO, YOU WANT OUR SOULS BECAUSE..."
"The king wants to open the barrier with soul power. Then, we will be free to return to the surface, to lands that are rightfully ours."
Their next attack held a flurry of bones, battering the brothers, who each consumed half a bisicle rather than respond.
"So you see," Chara continued, "you ought to give up now. Yield your souls to me, and monsterkind will be free. Refuse, and you stand in the way of our hopes and dreams."
"NO!" Papyrus said, dodging the swipe of a knife. "I SYMPATHIZE WITH YOUR PLIGHT, BUT THERE MUST BE ANOTHER WAY! A WAY TO FREE EVERYONE WITHOUT VIOLENCE."
"Ha. You have a lot to learn about this world."
"PERHAPS SO! BUT IT WOULD BE FOOLISH TO PRESUME YOU KNOW EVERYTHING YOURSELF!"
"I know enough," said Chara, striking at Papyrus with both knives. Papyrus' HP sank, along with Sans' heart. If Chara was focusing all of their efforts on his brother again, they were getting serious about killing him.
"c'mon, bro, eat a nice cream bar," he said; the instant Papyrus had polished off the bar, Chara attacked again, bones from every direction.
"COME ON!" Papyrus complained. "YOU DIDN'T EVEN GIVE ME TIME TO READ THE COMPLIMENT ON THE STICK!"
"How unfortunate," said Chara, dry as a desert.
They struck the killing blow only a few rounds later, and Sans rewound time.
"ALL RIGHT," said Papyrus. "THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM!"
"yeah, bro. but if we don't get it this time, that's okay too. we have all the time in the world."
"YEAH! AND WITH EVERY BATTLE, WE LEARN MORE ABOUT CHARA. THAT WILL HELP US FIGURE OUT WHAT IT TAKES TO CONVINCE THEM TO BE MERCIFUL!"
They ventured out into the snow to face Chara once more.
Sans honestly wasn't sure if Papyrus was asking Chara's name again because he didn't want to give away that he already knew it, or just out of sheer politeness. It could be either.
"I am Chara," they said. "Don't bother telling me yours. You're human; I don't care to know it. I only want your souls."
"ISN'T THERE A WAY FOR US TO HELP YOU? TO HELP MONSTERS, WITHOUT YOU TAKING OUR SOULS?"
"Don't you know that's been tried already?" They flung a knife, which Papyrus dodged. "There is no other way."
"IF WE JUST STOPPED FIGHTING AND TALKED, WE COULD FIGURE SOMETHING OUT! YOU'LL NEVER KNOW UNLESS YOU TRY!"
"Why bother? Killing you is justice, anyways, after all the monsters humankind has turned to dust."
"my brother wouldn't hurt a fly," Sans said, "and i haven't hurt any monsters either. you can't call that 'justice.'"
"Maybe not yet. It's only a matter of time." A red eye flashed, and both brothers ducked the ensuing bones. They continued, "After all, you'll have to fight back at some point. Unless you intend on surrendering your souls to me willingly?"
"NO," said Papyrus, firm. "WE WILL NOT DO EITHER OF THOSE THINGS."
"You can't dodge forever."
(ha, thought Sans. shows what they know.)
"I DON'T SEE WHY NOT!"
"Sooner or later, you will fight back. Or you will die."
"OR," said Papyrus, "WE WILL RESOLVE THIS CONFLICT PEACEFULLY, WITHOUT FURTHER VIOLENCE!"
"That's not going to happen." They sent out a wave of knives, as if to punctuate this statement.
"CHARA," he said, once the attacks had passed. "I CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE A VERY DRIVEN INDIVIDUAL. YOU ARE DETERMINED, AND I ADMIRE YOU! IF WE ONLY WORKED TOGETHER, THERE IS NO TELLING WHAT WE COULD ACCOMPLISH!"
"plus, we could always go back to fighting after, if it doesn't work out," Sans added.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you? In this world, it's kill or be killed." As they spoke, they launched twin blades; neither brother dodged until it was too late.
"actually," Sans panted, still aching from the blow his soul had just taken, "yes. a flower told us that exact phrase once. then he tried to kill us."
"HE WAS VERY MEAN!"
"A flower?" said Chara, voice carefully even.
"yep. said his name was flowey. he tried to take our souls, too. we were 'an opportunity too good to pass up,' apparently." He raised an eyebrow; Chara had yet to attack, and somehow he thought they weren't just lulling them into a false sense of complacency. Not this time. "you know him?"
Chara was silent for a long minute. "I," they finally said, "am going to uproot that lying, treacherous little weed."
"gonna take that as a yes."
"Shut up," they snapped. They stood there and glared for a moment, before speaking once more. "Where did you meet him? I'll know if you lie, so don't try it."
"IT WAS RIGHT AFTER WE FELL INTO THE UNDERGROUND," said Papyrus.
"right," said Sans, "and then he popped up again as we were leaving the ruins. and..." He hesitated.
"And what?" Chara stepped towards him, looming.
"and i spotted him once on our way to snowdin," he admitted. "at least i think i did. he kinda vanished into the ground, so..."
"Hmm." They surveyed the brothers, considering. "Don't think I'm done with you yet," they said. "I have a certain flower to find. But I'll be back." They strode past the brothers and towards Snowdin, slowly fading out of sight. The snow and wind seemed to calm down, and the cold no longer felt as biting as it did before.
"well," said Sans, "i guess that's that."
Papyrus swept Sans up in a hug, spinning around in joy. "WE DID IT, SANS!" He came to a stop. "THOUGH I AM NOT CERTAIN EXACTLY WHAT IT IS WE DID THAT MADE THEM DECIDE TO STOP FIGHTING."
Sans shrugged, or tried to. "sounds like they've got some beef with flowey."
"I SUPPOSE SO." He looked pensive for a moment longer, then grinned. "WELL!! BEST NOT TO LOOK A GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH! WE MUST CARRY ONWARD!"
"sounds good to me," said Sans, "but you'll have to put me down first."
"OH, RIGHT." He set Sans back down on his feet. "SHALL WE?"
Sans nodded, and they set off. As they walked, something occurred to him. "didn't frisk say that once we were out of snowdin, we were out of chara's jurisdiction? out of their reach?"
"HMM, YES, THAT DOES SOUND FAMILIAR. BUT SOMETHING TELLS ME THAT THEY WON'T LET THAT STOP THEM, IF THEY DECIDE TO COME AFTER US AGAIN."
"yeah, probably not." He frowned.
"BUT! IF THEY DO, WE WILL SIMPLY TALK TO THEM ONCE MORE! THEY AREN'T SO BAD, REALLY," Papyrus declared. "THEY CAN DO BETTER, I KNOW IT!"
Sans wished he could be surprised by the juxtaposition of "has killed us multiple times" and "aren't so bad, really," and how these apparently weren't mutually exclusive traits. But Papyrus believed in everyone, and on some days, made Sans want to believe in everyone, too.
"well, if we're lucky, we won't have to put that to the test."
Two brothers have fallen into the Underground, and it'll take more than a healthy serving of determination for them to get out again. Luckily, a certain skeleton named Frisk is around to lend a helping hand. (Roleswap/Species Swap!AU)
[AO3] [CH 1] [CH 2] [CH 3] [CH 4] [CH 5]
chapter four: sneak from their sarcophagus
This time around, they sped through the puzzles with ease. Sans even convinced Papyrus to keep the petting of dogs to a minimum, to save time. They only slowed down when they reached the puzzle Chara had caught them in last time. It was a tricky array of Xs, Os, and buttons, all which had to be carefully navigated or they would have to reset the puzzle.
Papyrus had already made some headway on the puzzle last time, so they had a head start. Still, by the time they completed it, the clanking of Chara's armor was sounding too close for comfort.
"you know, bro," Sans said, studying the puzzle to fix it in his memory, "i bet we could do it faster."
Papyrus grinned. Sans reached inside himself again, focused on that burning feeling. When he opened his eyes, they stood once more in the room with the frozen block of cheese, ready to run the gauntlet once more. This time, Chara was nowhere to be seen or heard as they expertly solved each puzzle.
The next room, to his surprise, held no puzzles whatsoever. Just one of the dogs from earlier, staring blankly into the snow and waiting for it to turn into art.
"wonder why there aren't any puzzles here?" Sans mused.
"PROBABLY BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE THIS DOG LIVES!" Papyrus pointed to a large doghouse just a little ways away.
"guess so. wouldn't put it past chara to put puzzles in someone's living space though."
The dog paid them no attention, but Sans was briefly worried about the other monster in the room. It appeared to be some kind of cow monster, wearing colorful clothing. Luckily, not only did it not seem to be intent on reporting to the Royal Guard, but it didn't even seem to know or care that they were human.
All she said was, "That dog considers itself an artist, but doesn't ever know what to create." She laughed. "It probably doesn't help that its brain is the size of a piece of kibble."
Sans looked over to the dog, which was staring intently into its cylinder of snow. Knowing that dog would never give up trying to make the perfect snowdog... it filled him with determination.
He was only a little surprised when his next revert brought them to the room with the snowdog. He was beginning to think that he was getting the hang of these time travel powers. This should have brought him excitement, or courage, or even relief - and yet -
Just after Papyrus had completed the puzzle in the next room, Sans had glanced back, for no reason he could name, and as a result he saw a glimpse of warm green and bright yellow, disappearing into the snowy ground. Flowey.
Papyrus had not seen, and Sans hurried after him, dread coiling in his mouth. The memory of Flowey's nightmarish rictus of a grin lingered in the back of his mind.
Several puzzles and one small dog in large armor later, Sans and Papyrus found themselves staring down a long, narrow stone path stretching across a chasm. It appeared to be the only way across, and Sans wasn't all that nervous considering his recent discovery of the impermanence of death, but Papyrus seemed apprehensive.
"Humans," said a voice from behind them - a familiar voice.
Papyrus jumped, startled, but Sans spun around, already grinning. "hey frisk," he said. “why couldn’t the skeleton lie?”
“I don’t know,” Frisk whispered. “Why?”
“because he couldn’t tell a fibula!”
Frisk snickered, but when they spoke they sounded uneasy. "I'm glad I got here in time," they whispered. "There's a booby trap in the middle of the path. You have to disarm it before you cross." They bent down and brushed some snow away from the base of a nearby tree, revealing a small brown switch, which they flipped.
Papyrus, meanwhile, was peering out at the stone bridge. "I DON'T SEE ANY TRAP," he said.
"It's hidden in the bridge," said Frisk.
He frowned. "THAT SEEMS... DISHONEST. I LIKED THE PUZZLES A LOT MORE."
They shrugged. "Anyways, Snowdin is up ahead," they said, quiet as ever. "Get through there and you're out of Chara's reach. But..." they hesitated. "I haven't seen my sibling in a while. I'm worried they may have gone back to town, for whatever reason."
"we'll try to avoid them?" Sans tried.
"That's good, but... it may not be good enough." They sighed. "If things go wrong and you do have to fight them, watch out for their red magic. It can be used to... break the normal rules of a FIGHT. Allows them to attack out of turn. So always be on your toes."
"WE WILL HEED YOUR WORDS," Papyrus declared.
Sans nodded solemnly, fighting to keep a straight face. He wanted to laugh - they'd already faced Chara twice, and Frisk was just now warning them... but of course Frisk had no idea, since this time around Chara hadn't laid eyes on them. Eyesockets?
Skeletons were confusing.
Snowdin was surprisingly small, and thankfully oblivious. Sans had drawn up his hood in an attempt at subtlety before remembering that he was travelling with his brother. Luckily, not a single townsperson seemed to recognize them as human, instead assuming they were tourists. The sight of such a friendly town filled Sans with determination.
Papyrus had wanted to stay at the inn, citing Sans' nap earlier that day. "nah," Sans had said, "i can sleep anywhere. but i'll sleep a lot better knowing we're safe from chara." Papyrus had, reluctantly, agreed, and so they had moved on - though not before buying several bisicles and cinnamon buns.
Strangest had been a conversation with a small yellow monster wearing a striped shirt.
"Yo!" the monster called out to Sans. "Are you a kid?"
Sans nodded.
"Oh, cool! I thought you might be, but you're not wearing a striped shirt, so I couldn't tell." The monster kid frowned, briefly. "Some monsters are weird about that though. One of those two skeleton siblings, they wear a striped shirt, but I'm pretty sure they're a grown-up! And now you're not wearing stripes, but you say you're a kid!"
"my brother and i, we're tourists," said Sans. "kids don't always wear striped shirts where we're from."
"Whoa, cool! Are you from the capital?"
"...yes."
"That's so cool! Have fun in Snowdin!"
"sure thing," said Sans.
Sans' interest was drawn in particular to the "librarby." He peeked inside first, to check that Chara wasn't lurking there, before strolling in and up to the front desk. "so," he said, grinning, "if this is the librarby, does that make you the librarbrian?"
The librarian groaned. Papyrus scolded Sans. Par for the course.
Sans ventured further into the library. Behind him, Papyrus approached three monsters sitting at a table. The table was covered with papers which on closer inspection were crosswords, word searches, and comics.
"That look in your eye," one of the monsters said to Papyrus. "You're someone who has trouble doing crosswords, aren't you?"
Sans tuned out the conversation in favor of browsing the shelves, selecting volumes that looked interesting and flipping through them to see if they held anything useful, or cool. One book rewarded him with,
"While monsters are mostly made of magic, human beings are mostly made of water. Humans, with their physical forms, are far stronger than us. But they will never experience the joy of expressing themselves through magic. They'll never get a bullet-pattern birthday card."
Sans frowned. That was... disappointing, if informative.
He went back to flipping through books. Another volume read, "Love, hope, compassion... This is what people say monster SOULs are made of. But the absolute nature of "SOUL" is unknown. After all, humans have proven their SOULs don't need these things to exist."
Slowly, Sans closed the book and slipped it back on the shelf. He felt cold. "hey, bro," he said. "we should probably go, yeah?"
Papyrus looked up from his conversation with the monster ladies about puzzles. "CERTAINLY, BROTHER!" He turned back to the monsters. "IT WAS VERY NICE SPEAKING WITH YOU!"
As they left, Sans couldn’t help but think that whoever wrote that book ought to meet Chara.
Near the edge of town they came across a house with two mailboxes standing next to it. One was labelled "Frisk," the other "Chara." The brothers traded looks.
"if chara's in snowdin, they're in there," Sans whispered. "so let's just... walk past. calmly. without looking in any windows, or making any noise."
Papyrus opened his mouth to agree, thought better of it, and nodded sheepishly.
"cool," whispered Sans. "we just gotta be casual."
They casually strolled past Chara's house, past the shed, and into the forest ahead. Sans kept expecting to hear heavy footsteps behind them, snow crunching underneath armor. He expected the clanking sound of Chara in pursuit. He resisted the temptation to look back. That wouldn't be very casual.
The snowfall ahead of them was thickening considerably, to the point where he could more or less only see Papyrus beside him. They soldiered on. Papyrus wrapped his bright red scarf tight around his neck. Sans shoved his hands in his sleeves, grateful for his trusty blue jacket.
His legs were freezing, but he took a step, and then another step. He felt more cold than he'd ever been in his life, but Papyrus was with him. It would be all right. He took a step, and stopped.
A dark figure stood before them, blocking the path. Through the heavy snowfall Sans could barely see their silhouette, but he had a feeling he knew who it was. Papyrus had stopped beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him close.
The figure stepped forward, snow crunching beneath their feet. They stepped closer still, close enough to confirm their identity. Chara.
"GREETINGS!" Papyrus shouted. "MY BROTHER AND I, WE ARE... TOURISTS! VERY DEFINITELY TOURISTS. WE LOVE TO TRAVEL. WE JUST FINISHED VISITING SNOWDIN. IT IS A LOVELY TOWN! DO YOU LIVE HERE? WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"
Silence.
"IT WAS WONDERFUL TO VISIT SNOWDIN, BUT WE DO HAVE TO MOVE ON! WE ARE HEADED TOWARDS THE CAPITAL. YES, THAT IS OUR FINAL DESTINATION. HOME!"
nailed it, thought Sans.
"Ha. Ha," said Chara. "Nice try. But you're not tourists. You're humans." They paused. "I wasn't expecting two of you. It must be my lucky day."
"TECHNICALLY," said Papyrus, "WE ARE TRAVELERS, AND WE ARE TOURING THE UNDERGROUND, AND SNOWDIN IS LOVELY, AND WE ARE TRYING TO GET HOME. I DID NOT LIE."
"I am curious," they said, "how you got past the trap on the stone bridge."
"ABOUT THAT." He hesitated. "DON'T YOU KNOW THAT HIDDEN TRAPS ARE INCREDIBLY RUDE? TRAPS OUGHT TO BE OUT IN THE OPEN, LIKE PUZZLES!"
"Don't answer, then. That's fine. It won't matter once I've taken your souls." A bone materialized in their hand. "Since you asked... I am Chara."
My ladystuck fic for @prospitian-monarch, a remix of their fic don’t need no halloween. Homestuck, ~3k words, Terezi/Vriska. warnings: implied/referenced child abuse.
A ghost story is the past nipping at the heels of the present. Or sometimes, gnawing. Your name is Vriska Serket, and you are Terezi Pyrope's own personal ghost story.
[AO3]
The past isn't dead. It's not even past.
— Mary Shelley
You are absolutely certain Mary Shelley said that.
A ghost story is the past nipping at the heels of the present. Or sometimes, gnawing. Your name is Vriska Serket, and you are Terezi Pyrope's own personal ghost story.
At first glance, Terezi and her mother remind you of you and yours, once upon a time. A single mother and a little girl, moving into the same house, separated only by time. But Terezi's mother's shark smile softens when she looks at her daughter, while your mother's would grow sharper, when it didn't twist into a scowl. And even at six, Terezi sits and reads while you, you ran wild.
You are unmoored from the present; as a ghost you are only past. So you remember when you, too, were six. Your smile wasn't as sharp and your hair wasn't as tangled and you wanted fervently to be a pirate. You remember it, and you make it so. You are six again, and some part of you even believes it. You are a shadow of the past, lingering in the present, lingering in Terezi's bedroom. In your bedroom.
This house that opened wide, this bedroom that held you safe. They are yours as much as hers, aren't they? More so, even. The shelves have Terezi's books instead of your toys, but you belong to this house, and so it belongs to you.
Terezi lives in this house, the present tense to your past. In a way, you conclude later, she belongs to you, too.
But first, first there is childhood. It is not what you expect: you expect to lurk in the shadows, but Terezi calls you into the light. She is eager for truth, eager for justice, even as a child. (Not that you really think of her as a child, when you yourself are one too. The present is past is past.)
She is straight and to the point, seeking truth like an arrow seeks its mark. On the third day after she moves into the house, she says, deliberately, "I know you're here."
"You can see me?" you say, stepping into the light. Reaching for her mind with yours, creating the bond that lets you solidify before her. It is easy - her mind is open to possibility, open to you. It has never been easy before.
"It's rude to hide," says Terezi, matter-of-factly, and from then on you are friends.
You talk and play together, when Terezi is not at school. She says you are her best friend. She is your best friend too, of course, but that doesn't mean as much given that you have no other friends. Not that you want any others.
You bask in the light, but only for Terezi. You are hers alone. One day Terezi invites home a friend from school, Aradia. This house is no place for her, an interloper. Aradia does not get to see you. She gets you tugging on her hair, knocking over her cup. She gets a message: You are not welcome here.
Terezi glares at you when you do this, having somehow developed the knack of seeing you even when you are not visible. What Terezi does not understand is: Aradia does not belong here, no matter how interested in ghosts she may be. This place is for you, and for Terezi, and (you suppose) Terezi's mother. Not Aradia. You are pleased when she leaves.
You mean to stay out of sight for longer afterwards, to teach Terezi a lesson, but that night you end up sitting on the ceiling above Terezi's bed: the specter of the past looming over the present. She wakes, if briefly, and sees you, blinking twice in acknowledgement. She does not seem particularly concerned that you hang in the air above her like a spider from a web, and goes back to sleep.
The next day, you divulge some information about your life, or at least about your possessions, which is more or less the same thing. Casually, you point out the magic 8-ball, which Terezi found in her first week here but has otherwise gone unremarked.
You say, "I got that for my eighth birthday," never mind that as far as either of you are concerned right now you are six. "My mother took me to the toy store and let me pick it out. It was my favorite."
What you don't say is: it was your eighth birthday and it was a magic 8-ball and you thought that meant something, thought it might have the answers. Countless times you nearly smashed it for its uselessness, but always you held back. You knew your mother wouldn't buy you another one, and besides it was a tangible reminder of better days.
It is yours; of all the people and things in this house, it is perhaps the most yours. But as with all physical objects, interacting with it is difficult; it is more useless to you now then it ever was, meaningful only as a memory. (You, too, are a memory.)
You say, magnanimously, "But I'm letting you have it, because I'm soooooooo nice."
"Objection!" says Terezi, because everything has to be about the law with her. "You aren't even 'so nice' with one o, not to mention eight. I hold you in contempt of the court."
But she takes your hand, warmer than you could ever dream of being, and you hold the magic 8-ball together.
It takes her a year to ask how you died, one night while she lies in her bed (your bed) with her garish teal and red comforter pulled up to her neck. You are seven now, perched at the foot of her bed, and you dodge the question with ease.
"Were you murdered?" she asks. In the stories you'd read when you were alive, ghosts were always the spirits of people who were murdered. Whether or not this is always true, it is true for you. She continues, "Because my mom's a lawyer and so am I. Or at least, I will be when I grow up, so you should tell me who did it, and I'll be sure to put them safe behind bars!"
You were murdered, but you don't linger here for lack of justice. Your murderer is already 'safe behind bars.' You're just a remnant. You're just the past.
Dodge. "I know you're going to be a lawyer," you say, rolling your eyes. "You only tell me every other hour. You're only a lawyer every time we play pretend."
Terezi moves with the current, accepting the subject change. "Nope! I'm a dragon lawyer when we play pretend. You can't own dragons in real life, which is why it's pretend. The lawyer part's real though." But the question lingers in her mind, and you know she won't forget.
One day, you tell Terezi, very casually, that it's easier to make Terezi see you than anyone else. You think it's probably because Terezi is so open to truth, open to you, although you don't say that. There are, probably, other people with similarly open minds. But you've never met any of them, and besides none of them are Terezi.
Here's another reason Terezi belongs to you: you take just a little bit of her, all the time, and so she can see you, hear you, touch you. At one point, you tell Terezi this - not the part about belonging, but the part about taking. If you you were really good, an actually good person, you'd let go, and let Terezi have all of herself back. Instead, you tell her; in essence leaving the decision to her: if she took offense to you taking a bit of her, she could clam up her mind, slam it closed, and leave you in the dark.
Instead, she says, "I don't mind," tilting her head slightly. This is, of course, the outcome you'd hoped for, because you are selfish.
Ever since dying the senses have been crossed for you. Colors have tastes, smells, ideas. When Terezi is nine and paints her nails in ridiculous, clashing stripes of teal and red, you inform her of three things: it looks awful, it smells awful, but the colors are nice enough by themselves. "The red tastes like cherries," you tell her.
Terezi laughs, but not at your crossed senses. "Can you do better?"
"Maybe if my fingers didn't sometimes disappear? On second thought, I still might be able to do better."
When you were alive you painted your nails a single color: cerulean blue. It was also the color of your lipstick, and your eyeshadow. You didn't always bother with makeup, but all the same that color was the one you claimed as yours.
You are the past, you are a bundle of memory and thought; you are a girl named Vriska, who used to be alive and now you simply are. Hanging in the air like a spider, wrapped up in your past. This house is filled with a web of memories. Your memories; your house; your 8-ball; your Terezi. You are, magnanimously, willing to admit these things belong to Terezi too, just as you do.
Terezi is sharp, like an arrow or a sword or a smile. She is confident, determined, alive.
Some nights, she is too awake, too alive, wired, wound up. On these nights, you and your disappearing fingers brush Terezi's hair. You soothe her; you settle her; you drain her, just enough for her to sleep.
Some moment, unremarked upon by Terezi but intimately familiar to you, you stop growing. Thirteen again, and twice as angry.
You can't follow Terezi to school, never have been able to. At first, this was just more time alone, waiting for her to come back. But over the years school even intrudes into her life at home. Terezi is more dedicated to her schoolwork than you ever bothered to be, completing her homework diligently and on time.
You can't help her; can't follow her; can only distract her, when she is studying. Gone are the days when she would come home from school, make a PB&J sandwich, lie on the living room floor and talk to you. Now she comes home, grabs an apple, and works on her assignments. She doesn't tell you to leave, but school takes her from you all the same, taking more and more of the time that was once yours.
When she's fourteen, you rip up her homework one day while she's eating dinner. She is leaving you bit by bit, she's being pulled away. Doesn't she understand you belong to each other? "You don't need that junk anyways," you tell her, but she only frowns.
For her fifteenth birthday party, Terezi invites two of her friends from school. Aradia again, and a new boy, Tavros. They don't get to see you; they have no right.
You grudgingly tolerate their presence in your house, you allow their attachment to Terezi even though she is not theirs, but several hours in Tavros picks up the magic 8-ball from its shelf by the stairs and somehow that is
the last straw
and you cannot stand this anymore, cannot stand your house and Terezi and 8-ball to be taken away from you.
"Stop!" you call, but Tavros can barely hear you.
"Did you hear something, Aradia?" he asks.
You give them another chance. "Put it down!" you demand.
"Is someone else in the house?" Tavros asks.
Aradia approaches him, looking curious. "Maybe it's that ghost Terezi used to say lived in her house when we were kids," she offers.
Used to say...
"We still are kids," says Tavros, but he and Aradia and Terezi are already two years older than you ever got to be and they are taking her away, they are taking what is yours.
You reach out with your mind, you reach for the bond between you and Terezi and take; you take Aradia's will and she begins to scream, even as you take her hands and give Tavros a harsh shove, watching in satisfaction as he tumbles down the stairs.
Aradia collapses afterward, but you pay her no mind. You pay no one any mind and let go of everything, hanging there like a storm hangs in the sky. The rage dissipates slowly, and as it washes away it leaves behind nothing but a terrible knowledge: look at what you've done. What you've become.
The house is quiet, a yawning silence. Downstairs, in the very kitchen that swallowed you whole, Terezi lies on the floor in a jumbled heap. (You have taken too much.) In that quiet, you force yourself into corporeality, you pick up the phone and you dial 911, clutching the receiver until it falls through your hands, clattering to the floor.
She is gone for weeks, hospitalized, and even once she is back, for two days you do not appear to her, because that would require taking a little bit of her and you have already taken so much. She is legally blind now, with a brand new cane to match: white at the top, cherry red at the end.
You are selfish, Vriska Serket. On the third day you reveal yourself to her. "It was lonely without you," you say, because you don't know how to say anything else. You barely know how to say even that: your voice is blank, bleak. Empty.
"I know."
That summer, as Terezi makes up her schoolwork, sitting beneath a tree in her backyard and studying, you take to fading into view. A message: I am here. I am always here. You take to flickering. You take as little of her as you can: as much as it takes to appear to her, and never more. You pretend that taking less of her now makes up for what you did then.
Terezi tells you, "I don't think I'll go back to school."
Once, this would have sparked excitement, a hope you could not name. What you feel now is the barest flicker of that hope. "I didn't take you for a dropout, Pyrope," you say.
"No, I mean, I think I'm going to ask my mom about homeschooling. Maybe that way I can even finish high school early."
"And then... college?" you guess, unsteadily. Crushing that barest, selfish flicker of hope because what about your actions would make her want to stay?
"Yes," she says. Laughs. "I still want to be a lawyer, you know. If you had doubts for a moment."
Silence falls for a moment; you feel like you have been sentenced. Two or three years; then Terezi will leave this house, leave you, and there is not even an objection you can make, not now. Finally, you say, "I know you'll get accepted somewhere nice. Maybe the best, even."
After a while, Terezi says, "You can talk to me more often, if you like."
"I still have to take the energy to form from you," you say. A reminder. An admission. A confession.
"I don't mind," she says. An echo.
The next Saturday, Terezi buys two orange creamsicles, one for her and one for you, like she did years ago, when at least one of you was innocent. She eats hers sitting on the back stoop; you sit next to her and hold your creamsicle, staring out into the backyard. "It smells like stars," you tell her, and she agrees.
That night, Terezi lets you brush her hair again; you are more gentle than you have ever been, alive or dead. "Sorry," you whisper, in that liminal time right before she falls asleep.
One day that summer, Terezi returns from an outing and says to you, "Serket is a nice name."
You tilt your head up, fixing your gaze on the ceiling, flickering in and out of sight. "If you say so."
She never did ask again how you died, but she must have remained curious all this time, and now she knows. Knows how your mother, in one of her rages, stabbed you with a kitchen knife, over and over. You tried to cling to life, and when that failed you clung twice as hard to presence, an endless battle not to be swallowed up by nothingness like this house swallowed you whole.
Finally -
"Have you been happy?" Terezi asks you, sitting by your side in the attic loft, feet dangling off the edge.
You blink, startled. "Of course," you say, because that is all there is to say. Anger and guilt aside, with Terezi you are not alone, and you have always been so, so lonely.
Terezi takes your hand, warm as always. Her lips are warm, too, when she kisses you. She tastes of textbooks and determination and hope and sadness and life, and orange creamsicles, and love.
She pulls away after a moment. "Goodbye," she says, quietly.
The sentence has come to pass. "Okay," you say, and press your forehead against Terezi's. Surrender. Letting go. "Okay."
In the end she doesn't close off her mind like a door slamming shut, or even like a clam closing. Instead she reaches for the bond, the string between you and her, and unwinds it from her mind, letting it go. Slowly you fade away, and she is alone.
if you are not very careful
your possessions will possess you
—Marina and the Diamonds, "Oh No!"
wrote this drabble a few weeks ago, no idea if i’ll ever make a proper fic out of it. i have enough WIPs lmao. anyways this is 420 words (blaze it) of an atla/asoiaf au that’s been stuck in my brain.
Water, Earth, Fire, and Air.
Long ago, the people of the four elements were scattered across the world. All but the Valyrians, the people of fire. They concentrated their people and their power in Valyria, and became a powerful nation as a result.
Then the Doom of Valyria came, and the only firebenders remaining were the Targaryens, who had left Valyria for Westeros a generation before.
To be a firebender today is synonymous with having Targaryen blood. The only exception is the Avatar, master of all four elements, and indeed the only individual capable of bending more than one element at all.
Jon Snow set down the tome, staring blankly. It had not told him anything he had not already known. Nothing the Free Folk had not told him, nothing Mance Rayder had not remarked upon, nothing Ygritte - don't think about Ygritte.
He lifted a hand, and water rose out of his glass to swirl around his palm. Reminding him: he was a waterbender, a Northman, Ned Stark's son. The Starks were all waterbenders, and so was he. He directed the water back into his glass.
With the other hand he reached out towards the candle on his desk. Hesitated. Closed his eyes, felt for something indescribable, the life he could sense, barely, in front of his fingertips. It was an alien sense and yet it felt like home. It was absolutely opposite to the cool water and cold ice he'd known all his life, but the warmth drew him either way. He reached out for the flame and coaxed it higher, stronger, hotter.
He opened his eyes and saw the flame wreathed around his fingers, an undeniable, impossible truth. He let go, and the flame died back down until it was small once more.
There were only two possibilities, and neither of them seemed possible. Either he was a freak, born somehow with the ability to bend both ice and fire - and every person, every book he'd consulted said that was impossible, and he'd have to have Targaryen ancestry besides - or he was the Avatar.
The Avatar. The Avatar. Him. Never had anything sounded more absurd.
Especially because even, even if he was the Avatar, that still didn't explain his confusing... affinity... for fire. Everything he'd ever read about past Avatars indicated that each Avatar found bending their 'opposite' element most difficult; an Avatar born an earthbender found air hardest to master.
But Jon didn't find fire difficult to manipulate at all. It felt familiar. Like an old friend.
Two brothers have fallen into the Underground, and it'll take more than a healthy serving of determination for them to get out again. Luckily, a certain skeleton named Frisk is around to lend a helping hand. (Roleswap/Species Swap!AU)
[AO3] [CH 1] [CH 2] [CH 3] [CH 4] [CH 5]
chapter three: shake and shudder in surprise
When Sans opened his eyes, he and Papyrus were standing by the table with the hunk of frozen cheese. His brother's heartbroken expression answered any question of whether Papyrus remembered their ill-fated battle with Chara.
"guess... not everyone wants to be friends," he said awkwardly.
Papyrus suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. "SANS, I'M SO SORRY. I TRUSTED THEM, AND THEY... THEY KILLED..." Sans could feel him shudder.
"it's all right, pap," he said. "i fell for it too. for a minute there, i really thought..."
Papyrus shook. "THEY KILLED YOU. TRULY, I AM... A TERRIBLE BROTHER." Tears welled up in his eyes.
"what? no!" Sans hugged Papyrus even tighter. "it's not your fault! if i hadn't decided taking a nap in the snow was a good idea..."
"IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT EITHER, SANS. I CAN HARDLY BLAME YOU FOR GETTING TIRED! ALTHOUGH..." He pulled back a little bit, looking Sans in the eye. "PLEASE DO TRY NOT TO FALL ASLEEP IN THE SNOW IN THE FUTURE. THAT CAN BE DANGEROUS FOR YOUR HEALTH! YOU WORRIED ME..."
Sans chuckled weakly. "yeah, uh, sorry about that."
Papyrus smiled. "IT'S ALL RIGHT. JUST, IF YOU FEEL SLEEPY, TELL ME! AND I WILL CARRY YOU WHILE YOU REST."
Sans reached up and brushed away some of the wetness on his brother's cheek. "you're the best brother i could ask for," he told him. "don't you ever believe otherwise."
Papyrus smiled falteringly, before frowning. "...SANS. IF THEY KILLED US... HOW IS IT THAT WE ARE ALIVE NOW?"
"you know, i..." Sans hesitated. "i'm not quite sure."
He didn't know how to explain it to Papyrus, but he had felt something while he was dead. The will to keep living, the fierce desire to change fate - to change his brother's fate... had that feeling brought them back, somehow?
"we can figure it out once we're out of snowdin," he decided. "we probably shouldn't wait around any longer, though."
"LET US CONTINUE ONWARD, THEN!"
Sans smiled. His brother still seemed a little shaken, but determined to keep going forward. As long as Papyrus had hope, then Sans felt like everything would turn out all right.
"COME ALONG, SANS!" jerked him out of his reverie, and he hurried to catch up with Papyrus. He had just done so when Papyrus came to an abrupt halt, and Sans accidentally walked right into him.
"what's the hold up, bro?"
"THE PUZZLE! SOMEHOW IT'S BEEN... UNSOLVED???"
Sans stepped to the side to get a better look, and saw that Papyrus was right. The puzzle in question looked just as it had when the brothers had first encountered it. Furthermore, there was no trace of anyone having been there recently, human or skeleton.
"huh," he said. "papyrus, i think we might have... time-traveled?"
"LIKE ONE OF YOUR SCIENCE FICTION STORIES?"
"monsters and magic are real. no reason time travel can't be too."
"...I SUPPOSE NOT."
Sans grinned. Time travel was way cooler than magic, anyways. "let's just do the puzzle. should be easier, since you already figured it out."
Papyrus brightened up. "INDEED! THE MEMORY IS FRESH IN MY MIND! FOLLOW MY LEAD, BROTHER!"
Under Papyrus' lead, the brothers carefully solved the puzzle. It was only a few minutes before Papyrus decisively stepped on the switch that completed the puzzle, retracting the spikes that blocked the way. Papyrus gave a shout of victory; luckily, the only Royal Guards that heard were a pair of dogs. Rolling in the snow and petting the dogs appeased them easily enough, which was good, because rolling around and petting were Papyrus' natural reactions to dogs.
To Sans' relief, Chara was nowhere to be seen as they entered the next area. They did meet another dog, one who loved to be pet even more than all the other dogs they had encountered - to the extent that its neck grew longer and longer as Papyrus repeatedly attempted to pet it. Eventually, however, it was too tall even for Papyrus to reach, and he reluctantly bid the dog farewell. Sans almost wondered if Chara was the only member of the Royal Guard who wasn't a dog.
As his brother examined the next puzzle, Sans looked around and was startled by a glimmer of light that seemed to come from a nearby tree. Inspecting it, he found a camera hidden in the branches. Well, that wasn't unnerving at all. Hopefully it didn't belong to Chara, because if it did, he wasn't sure how they were going to avoid being caught. He considered breaking it, but decided not to in case that set off alarms of some kind.
Before they had fallen underground, Sans would have never thought that he would have reason to be grateful for Papyrus' fondness for puzzles. Papyrus' passion was certainly paying off now, however; having fully grasped the mechanics of the Xs and Os, Papyrus (with Sans' help) was able to solve the puzzle faster than he had originally solved the previous one.
Even as they moved into the next area, Sans heard the distant clanking of armor. "we'd better hurry," he said, and Papyrus nodded, frowning. Luckily, the next puzzle proved to be a reprieve. The puzzle was in the shape of a skull - and judging by the closed eyesockets, Frisk's skull. Compared to Chara's puzzles, this one was a breeze.
After Frisk's skull puzzle, their luck ran out. They were in the middle of trying to solve the next of Chara's puzzles when a familiar voice rang out from behind them.
"Two humans?" said Chara. Sans' heart sank. "It must be my lucky day."
The brothers turned around to face their opponent. "KILLING PEOPLE ISN'T VERY NICE, YOU KNOW!" Papyrus admonished them.
Chara considered this. "If it makes you feel better," they said, "your deaths are going to make a lot of monsters very happy." They smiled. "Especially me."
Their souls floated out from their bodies. Time for another battle.
Why Sans wasted a turn 'checking' Chara, he wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was that he hadn't gotten hit yet, so there was no need to heal, and he didn't particularly feel like talking to them. 20 AT and 20 DEF - way more than any of the other monsters they'd fought thus far, with the single exception of Toriel. (In hindsight, Toriel must have been really holding back, even before her attacks started avoiding them.)
He was getting good at dodging, if he did say so himself. But - he grimaced - Papyrus wasn't. In fact, his brother was spending most of his turns healing - but they were running out of healing items. Only a lonely Spider Donut left.
He almost wondered if now was the time to start fighting back. But... no. Chara might be a murderous, backstabbing skeleton, but they had a sibling who loved them, and hurting them would hurt Frisk, too. Besides, Papyrus wouldn't be able to bear hurting anybody. Even now he was trying to convince Chara that they didn't need to kill.
No, fighting Chara was right out. There had to be another way.
Maybe - he winced, not quite managing to dodge one of Chara's bone attacks in his distraction. He looked over to his brother. Papyrus looked worn and battered in a way that tore at his heart.
Papyrus opened his mouth, no doubt to continue to try and talk Chara into mercy (the non-pretend kind), but Sans stopped him. "wait," he said. "just - wait a minute, okay?" Papyrus nodded.
Chara wasn't going to show them any mercy, and Sans didn't want to see his brother die again. Really, it would be best if, as Frisk hoped, they never encountered Chara at all - but it was too late for that now... wasn't it?
Sans focused on the present. Another attack or two and his brother would die, and he refused to let that happen again. He scowled just thinking about it. No, he wouldn't let that happen. This was not their fate.
The fires of determination welled up in his soul again, and Sans seized the feeling, concentrated on it. He saw Chara tense in preparation to launch another attack, but it didn't matter, because everything faded into darkness.
And then the darkness faded into a familiar room with a frozen block of cheese.
"SANS, WHAT...?" Papyrus blinked. "WHY ARE WE BACK HERE?"
Sans looked at the snowy ground. "they were about to... uh, win again. didn't want that happening."
"SO IT IS YOU WHO ARE TAKING US BACK IN TIME?"
"guess so." He shrugged, then looked up at Papyrus, an idea occurring to him. "hey, now that we know the answers to those puzzles, we can solve them again quicker than last time, keep ahead of chara. after all, their whole plan to trap us relies on our getting stuck on a puzzle... but if we know the solutions beforehand, they'll never have the opportunity to catch us, right?" He grinned, relieved to finally have a plan. It might take a few tries, but they would get out of this. He could feel it in his bones.
"THAT IS AN EXCELLENT IDEA, SANS! ONLY... YOU STILL HAVE NOT EXPLAINED HOW YOU TIME TRAVEL!"
Sans shrugged. "it's kind of hard to describe." He wasn't sure if he could explain how if he tried. He didn't have a time machine, like in some of the sci-fi books he'd read. No flux capacitors - just a gut feeling, a will to change fate.
"...VERY WELL. FORWARD, THEN!"
As the two made their way to the next puzzle, Sans contemplated his newfound power. A chill ran down his spine as a thought occurred to him:
Could this be the 'power to control this world' that Flowey had spoken of inheriting?
