wintersday (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wintersday) wrote2020-07-04 09:21 pm
wintersday) wrote2020-07-04 09:21 pm
Entry tags:
- character: homestuck: sollux,
- character: homestuck: terezi,
- fandom: homestuck: homestuck,
- fanfic,
- fanfic: length: under 1k,
- fanfic: rating: teen,
- fanfic: type: f/m,
- giftfic,
- pairing: homestuck: sollux/terezi,
- trope: au - canon divergence,
- trope: character study,
- trope: established relationship,
- trope: recovery,
- trope: survivor guilt
Fic: Futures Unwritten
Title: Futures Unwritten
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: Sollux/Terezi
Wordcount: 200 words
Rating: Teen
POV: Third person
Summary: They don't talk about doom, or fate, or choice, but they don't need to.
Notes: Originally written as giftfic for Silvereye on AO3. In case it isn't obvious, enclose noodle = parenthesis. I have no idea if there's a canon troll term for those things.
TZ leans over him as he codes, chin between his horns and elbows on his shoulders, complaining that he won’t let her lick the screen. Sometimes she tries anyway, and there’s a minor war. It’s easier than it should be to get used to.
So’s blindness, though even with his tech adaptions, debugging’s a pain. So’s being alive, except he made it out the other side of doom, and now he doesn’t know what his future will be.
She does: every path, doomed or safe, and that branching-tree hoofbeastshit has to suck. At least his death was only his own. If it was FF’s life, or AA’s, for everyone else’s, he’s sure he couldn’t have –
“Enclose noodle, Appleberry,” TZ says, poking him cheerfully. Fuck. He doesn’t usually miss them.
“You can smell enclose noodles?”
“They smell like delicious lemon candy that someone won’t let me taste.”
She licks his horn instead, and he jumps, mutters, “You fight dirty.”
“Who says I’m fighting?”
She is, though, always. She never made it out the other side of strategizing, and he hates being unable to debug that.
“Fine. You’re just dirty.”
She cackles, trying to drag him backwards. This time, he lets her.
Fandom: Homestuck
Major Characters/Pairings: Sollux/Terezi
Wordcount: 200 words
Rating: Teen
POV: Third person
Summary: They don't talk about doom, or fate, or choice, but they don't need to.
Notes: Originally written as giftfic for Silvereye on AO3. In case it isn't obvious, enclose noodle = parenthesis. I have no idea if there's a canon troll term for those things.
TZ leans over him as he codes, chin between his horns and elbows on his shoulders, complaining that he won’t let her lick the screen. Sometimes she tries anyway, and there’s a minor war. It’s easier than it should be to get used to.
So’s blindness, though even with his tech adaptions, debugging’s a pain. So’s being alive, except he made it out the other side of doom, and now he doesn’t know what his future will be.
She does: every path, doomed or safe, and that branching-tree hoofbeastshit has to suck. At least his death was only his own. If it was FF’s life, or AA’s, for everyone else’s, he’s sure he couldn’t have –
“Enclose noodle, Appleberry,” TZ says, poking him cheerfully. Fuck. He doesn’t usually miss them.
“You can smell enclose noodles?”
“They smell like delicious lemon candy that someone won’t let me taste.”
She licks his horn instead, and he jumps, mutters, “You fight dirty.”
“Who says I’m fighting?”
She is, though, always. She never made it out the other side of strategizing, and he hates being unable to debug that.
“Fine. You’re just dirty.”
She cackles, trying to drag him backwards. This time, he lets her.