wintersday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wintersday) wrote2020-09-29 08:44 pm
wintersday) wrote2020-09-29 08:44 pm
Entry tags:
- character: homestuck: aradia,
- character: homestuck: feferi,
- character: homestuck: sollux,
- fandom: homestuck: homestuck,
- fanfic,
- fanfic: length: under 1k,
- fanfic: rating: pg,
- fanfic: type: f/f,
- fanfic: type: f/m,
- fanfic: type: poly,
- pairing: homestuck: sollux/feferi/aradia,
- trope: fluff,
- trope: ghosts
Fic: Intermission
Title: Intermission
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: Sollux/Aradia/Feferi
Wordcount: 200 words
Rating: PG
POV: Second person
Summary: A moment between moments, after the meteor and before the story continues.
After you give the meteor its sendoff, after its light fades and silence reasserts itself, the universe seems suspended in time. Maybe it is. AA is with you, hanging in the void with red energy still crackling around her, and she can do that now. She spins to face you, smiling, and there’s a wildness in her you’d almost forgotten. You’ve missed it. You’ve missed her.
There are people you still miss, but AA grips your hand and tells you that ghosts don’t vanish just because you stop looking at them.
“And what she wants,” she says, “is a celebration.”
She pulls you protesting into a flying twirl, trailing light. There’s the sensation of passing through a clinging veil, and for a moment, someone else is holding your other hand – cool skin, webbed fingers, drifting hair like strands of kelp. Then you leave the bubble, and she’s gone, but you know that AA isn’t wrong. It’s not time for mourning. Not yet. You’re only halfway dead, and she’s not dead at all, which means you’re both still subject to time and doom.
Later, you think. Later.
For now, AA charts a course of sparks across the emptiness, and you follow.
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: Sollux/Aradia/Feferi
Wordcount: 200 words
Rating: PG
POV: Second person
Summary: A moment between moments, after the meteor and before the story continues.
After you give the meteor its sendoff, after its light fades and silence reasserts itself, the universe seems suspended in time. Maybe it is. AA is with you, hanging in the void with red energy still crackling around her, and she can do that now. She spins to face you, smiling, and there’s a wildness in her you’d almost forgotten. You’ve missed it. You’ve missed her.
There are people you still miss, but AA grips your hand and tells you that ghosts don’t vanish just because you stop looking at them.
“And what she wants,” she says, “is a celebration.”
She pulls you protesting into a flying twirl, trailing light. There’s the sensation of passing through a clinging veil, and for a moment, someone else is holding your other hand – cool skin, webbed fingers, drifting hair like strands of kelp. Then you leave the bubble, and she’s gone, but you know that AA isn’t wrong. It’s not time for mourning. Not yet. You’re only halfway dead, and she’s not dead at all, which means you’re both still subject to time and doom.
Later, you think. Later.
For now, AA charts a course of sparks across the emptiness, and you follow.