thIS IS FUCKING 3000 WORDS LONG JESUS CHRIST I JUST WANTED TO WRITE A SHORT SADSTUCK AND I ENDED UP SPENDING THREE HOURS ON THE MOST TRAGIC THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN.
Also, I've risen from my writer's block and managed to get something down. It kinda sucks, but I promised Jess a thing and so I present to you: A thing!
Homestuck belongs to Hussie.
Bad fanfictions belong to me.
"Hello there, young one..."
The tiny grub opened his eyes to look at the woman standing above him, her dark hair falling gracefully around her face.
"Why are you lost out here in the dark, hey?"
A small sniffle.
The woman reached down to pick the child up, smiling gently, "Your blood is so low, young one... did no lusus take you in?"
That was when the tears escaped. Bright red and flowing constantly.
"Shhh shshshhhh, young one, it's okay. I'll take you in. You can be my child now, and I'll be your lusus."
The grub smiled, his tears still leaking from the beady red eyes that wouldn't stop looking at the kind woman. Though grubs are born with high knowledge, this grub didn't know as much as he would know when he'd grow up.
He didn't know that he'd inspire crowds of people to lead a revolution with just his words.
He didn't know that this woman holding him now would someday follow him faithfully, with pride shining in her eyes.
He didn't know that he'd one day fall so madly in love with a woman that loved him back just as much, mutant blood and all.
He didn't know that he'd have a bond with a friend that was so strong and so genuine, that they would have each other's back through thick and thin until the day they died, a bond that many highbloods would only ever dream of having.
And he certainly didn't know that one day, he'd be the reason for all of their deaths, all of their deepest despairs.
For now, he was just a grub in a kind woman's arms.
"Excuse me, mister... uh... purreacher?"
The Signless turned to see a pretty young woman standing in front of him, her olive green eyes shining.
"And how may I help you, ma'am?"
The woman smiled, blushing from ear to ear, "I, uh... just wanted to tell you that you're truly an inspurration. I hope it's okay, but I actually started writing what you were saying down after ten minutes... I just couldn't stalk away furrom your sermon empty pawed, you know?"
The Signless smiled kindly, nodding ever-so-slightly, "I understand completely. What might your name be?"
And then it happened. For the first time in his life, the Signless caught a flash of the land in his dreams while he was awake. The woman had opened her mouth, ready to say her name, but before she got the chance to a million flashes of memories cut across the Signless' mind.
Memories of a girl of about seven sweeps, smiling and talking (and talking and talking), always going on with cat puns and ships. Memories of his happiness when she sat with him, listening to his ramblings, before she politely went ahead and talked about her OTP (and he didn't know why, but he was so damned happy that nothing she said was triggering). The girl started on the first sound of her name, but the Signless already knew, he already knew and his heart was breaking because some part of him was wondering if she was dead or just lost in some world that didn't exist anymore and he didn't know which was worse and he didn't care, because of COURSE she was safe, she was right there, and what on Alternia is a 'lost world', anyways?
"I'm Meulin!" She dragged out the 'meu' part like a cat meowing. The Signless faked a small smile before stumbling backwards. They'd never been this clear before. He'd never seen a name or a face, and now that the memories were coming, they refused to stop.
Mother Dolorosa ran towards the Signless with a worried look on her face and the Signless tried to tell her that there was nothing to worry about, but all he managed was a soft choked word.
"Porrim."
The Dolorosa hesitated in her approach, but it was too late, because the Signless could see in his mind's eye the young woman with her piercings and tattoos and glowing white skin. He got non-existant memories of her giving him a red sweater to cover up his pants, even though no such sweater existed. And when the Signless spun his head around, he saw a highblooded troll that he had only narrowly avoided earlier, with purple clothes and a wicked grin and oh god, it was Kurloz. It was Meulin's matesprit. But now he's different, now he's wicked and cruel and Meulin, not this Meulin standing in front of him, but his Meulin would never look twice at him because he's just plain evil.
And, just as suddenly as the memories had come, they disappeared. The Signless could tell that they were fading fast and he tried so hard to cling to the images, but soon all he was left with were fragments. 'Meulin' and 'Porrim' and 'Sgrub' and 'Scratch' and 'Triggering' and 'Asshole' (One that he heard a lot in the dreams), but most importantly, most significantly, there was one word shining above all of the others, and the Signless could only just match a face to the name before all of the memories faded.
The last whisper of his outburst was left on his lips, and he let the word out with a sigh, "Latula..."
"Um... are you okay, mister?" The Signless looked up, ignoring the screaming headache that tugged at his brain. Meulin stood above him, her olive eyes filled with worry.
"I... I'm fine... I don't quite know what happened there, it was all just a blur... but... I've forgotten it all now..."
The Dolorosa put a hand on her son's shoulder, "You said my name, young one... but I've never once told you it... you were also talking about many other words, a lot of which I've never heard before... it's like... it's like when you sleep. You always say those words then, too..."
The Signless blinked, "I... I think I just... had a bit of a flash of memor- er... I mean... images. Images of a place I've never even seen before."
The Dolorosa smiled, "Meulin was kind enough to lie you down while you saw them..."
The Signless went to thank the olive blooded woman, but he found he just couldn't, he couldn't thank her when she used her name, because then the memories would return...
After about three minutes of absolute silence between the three, the Signless spoke again, "Thank you, ma'am... but... would it be okay if I called you by something different to your name? I think... it just brings back some bad memories..."
The woman smiled, nodding, "Call me whatever mew like, Mr Purreacher."
The Signless smiled, "You don't have to call me that, you know. You can just call me the Signless, it's a nickname of sorts that I've picked up around here."
Another bright smile, before the woman spoke, "Well... um... you can just call me whatefurr you want to..."
The Signless smiled a kind, and (oh so) handsome smile, "I'll call you the Disciple. My Disciple. That is, if you want to be my Disciple. You could come with us, travelling and preac- uh... 'purreaching', if you want to."
The Disciple blushed green from both the cat puns and the naming he used (His Disciple), before nodding, "I'd, uh... I'd love to do that! I could write down your purreachings and... uh... and stuff"
The Signless grinned, "Well then, it's done! Pack your things, it's going to be a long journey."
The two young troll stood, still smiling at each other, before the Disciple turned towards the general direction of her hive.
After a few seconds of walking, she turned back, "Who's Latula? If you don't mind my asking"
The Signless smiled because of course he didn't mind. Whenever he thought of Latula he felt this buzzing joy and happiness in his gut, one that he thought meant that he had to find her, had to meet Latula (Maybe she was his soulmatesprit), but that didn't matter anymore because when the Disciple smiled at him, slightly nervous about treading into the Signless' personal (purrsonal?) business, he felt the exact same feeling. The only difference between Latula and the Disciple was that A. The Disciple was real and B. The Signless cared for her because of who she was, not because of the memories he had gained.
"She was someone I knew a long time ago. I thought I was in love with her, I also thought I should find her someday, but none of that matters anymore. I think I've found someone much more desirable."
The Disciple smiled, looking quite relieved, and then turned and ran (Like, really fast) towards her hive.
The greatest journey of her life had just begun.
The mustard-blooded troll looked up when he heard a scream. It was deafening, most certainly one of a female troll. She sounded like she was being hurt. Within the space of a second, he had sped off towards the sound.
When he finally stumbled, gasping and panting, to the woman's aid, he saw with some disappointment that he was the only troll around (except for the woman and her attacker). The mustard-blood shook off his anger at the people that he had passed to reach this girl (So many of them were strong, fit, highbloods that would be able to help this girl. Surely they all heard the scream!) and took in the scene in front of him.
The girl was about seven sweeps old, and judging by her clothing, she was a midblood. Standing in front of her, though, was a ten sweep rust-blooded man with a wicked smile. He held a torn fragment of the woman's skirt in his hand and it wasn't hard to guess that he was trying to force some black pailing on the girl.
"I'd like to kindly suggest you back the fuck off, thanks." The mustard blood stepped forward, pulling the woman so that she was behind him. She coward against his back, shivering.
"I'd like to kindly suggest you stick to your own business, Psionic."
The Psionic frowned, raising an eyebrow, "I'm not stepping away until you leave the poor woman alone. She's terrified."
"This is how a caliginous relationship works, dork. We hate each other, we pail together, we fight a little, and then one of us ends up killing the other."
"That's not it at all, you obtuse fuck! You don't force your black advances onto this woman and expect her to reciprocate, and then when she doesn't, because it's fucking obvious that no one would want to pail with a dickhead like you, you just-"
The rust blood sent a hard blow against the Psionic's head, sending his yellow blood flying and causing the man to stumble, then fall.
"Well then, what about you? How about we spark up a romance, skip the pailing, and end it with one of us dying tonight, hey?"
The Psionic thought of a million things he could do or say to get the young woman out of there, he though of a million more ways to just get this guy killed (the most enjoyable of those fantasies involved using his powers), but instead of following them, instead of doing the logical thing, the Psionic just spit a mouthful of mustard blood at the man's feet.
God fucking dammit.
The rust blood moved forward, his face filled with fury, when suddenly he was blocked off by a troll in a long coat that covered the entirety of his body, including his face. The mystery troll jabbed the man once in his ribcage, making the rust-blood fall forwards, his eyes bugging out.
"I'd like to kindly suggest you stop your attempted killing spree before I'm forced to kill you."
He spoke with so much venom, so much power that the rust blood stumbled back.
The Psionic scanned the mystery troll's clothing, taking in every detail, before noticing that it was both colourless and signless.
The rust-blood seemed to notice this too, and, after staring at the troll in front of him, taking in his intimidating stance, his healthy body and the fact that he acted like laying a scratch on him would cause extreme consequences, he concluded that this troll was a highblood.
And he ran. Oh, boy, did he run.
The midblood had smiled and thanked the two men with shining blue eyes before running off to her hive, leaving the Psionic with the mystery troll.
"You have no sign." The Psionic observed.
"I noticed."
"Are you really a highblood?"
"No."
"... A midblood?"
"Nope."
"So you're a lowblood, then?"
"Sort of no, sort of yes."
The two men stared at eachother for a long minute before the stranger lowered his hood, revealing two stunning, bright red eyes.
"Call me the Signless, brother."
"I'm Mitu-" The Psionic broke off as the Signless' eyes darkened, he looked like he was ready to have a fit.
"How about I just call you Psionic? It sounds much better."
The Psionic nodded slowly, confused at the sudden behavior of his new friend.
"So, Psionic, am I right to assume you work under the watch of the Condescension?"
The Psionic nodded, frowning, "Yes, and she works me rotten."
"I know this may sound strange, but... why don't you just... leave?"
The Psionic blinked in confusion, "Leave?"
"Yes, leave."
"I can't leave. I'd be culled in an instant."
The Signless hesitated, "What if you ran, though..."
"And where exactly would I run to?"
"A better place. Follow me, and we'll be running to a future where the hemospectrum doesn't matter anymore."
There was a stretch of silence between the two men, before the Psionic laughed, "What are you, some sort of preacher? You're pretty good with words, lowblood."
The Signless just smiled, "I do believe this offer will only be open once, Psionic, so make your decision quickly."
The Psionic sighed, looking around at the hives that stretched above him. No one here would miss him, that's for sure, and it wasn't like he would miss his job. His eyes slowly lowered to the ground, where they came to rest on a small stain of blue blood on the ground. With a rush he remembered seeing a small gash on the woman's side. He remembered no one coming to help her because who would help a simple midblood? She had no money to give in reward, and that was all trolls really cared about nowadays.
But that could all change. If this man, this signless man, was right, then they could change the world for the better. Highbloods would be kind and loving, lowbloods would be treated with as much respect as other trolls... there would be no hemospectrum.
"I'll come, but only to see this new world you speak of. I want to see if it's as crazy as you are."
"Okay then, I'll meet you at the edge of town, there's a small camp just inside the forest. I'll be there with my two current companions. There's no need to hurry."
The Psionic smiled, before running to his hive. He ran outside the door, his valuables packed and captchalogued within minutes, and then headed straight out of the door. Once a fair few metres away from his hive, the Psionic turned, fixing his eyes on his hive.
His lusus had died sweeps ago, and there was nothing left in the building anymore, so in an unexplainable fit of rebellion, he shot a beam of psionics towards the building, destroying it in an instant.
A few trolls screamed.
The ones that didn't were highbloods.
"RAAARARRAAUUUAAAAUUAGHGHGGHGGGGHHGH!"
The Dolorosa flinched at her son's screams. She wanted to look away, she wanted to desperately to help, but she just couldn't.
"FUCK FUCKING YOU LITTLE BAGS OF FUCKING SHITS I HATE YOU ALL GODDAMIT"
Her tears were streaming freely down her face, falling to the ground in heavy, jade droplets.
"WHY!? WHY IN THE FUCKING NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WOULD YOU HURT THEM? JUST FUCKING LEAVE THEM OUT OF THIS AND KILL ME! I'M THE ONE THAT YOU WANT, ASSHOLES, NOT ANY OF THEM!"
All at one, she lost her strength. The Dolorosa wept. Her sobs racked out of her throat and she threw a hand up to hide the sounds.
"LEAVE MY FUCKING FAMILY ALONE, YOU SACKS OF FUCKING BULGES! GODDAMIT! PLEASE!"
The screams of rage, the curses, even the Signless' out of character frowning disappeared as he slumped forwards.
The crowds went silent, watching to see if he was dead, before they heard the silent croaks of pain.
"Please... please don't hurt them... they did nothing wrong... they didn't speak a single word against you, I was the preacher here!"
A single, blue arrow flew into the Signless' shoulder, erupting a scream the rang through the crowds, the Dolorosa finally managed to tear her eyes away, only to be confronted by the sight of the Disciple, crying out to her matesprit. She was trying to run to him, her claws ready to kill anyone that she could get near, but the Psionic held her in an embrace that was somewhere between comforting and restraining. The two of them had never had a moment where they never bickered before now.
The Disciple broke into a fresh load of sobs, and the Dolorosa turned back to her son's agony.
That was slightly less painful to watch, at least.
"My mother... she's... she's a jadeblood, you could send her back to the Mother Grub... you could give her back the job she would've had if I had never fucking existed! And the Psionic, fuck, Mituna, he's the most powerful Psionic I know, surely a life of captivity wouldn't-"
"We're giving him to the Condescension, mutant. His powers will be recognised with her, you can trust me on that."
The Signless looked up at his executioner, his eyes filled with pain.
"What about my Disciple? What are you going to do to her?"
The blue blood grinned, "While your 'mother' will be able to be sold into slavery, I don't believe any troll would much enjoy buying, uh... 'soiled goods'. Especially ones soiled with such low blood. She's going to be executed after you."
The Signless screamed again, this time letting his tears escape, letting every single one of his emotions out into the open, letting every single troll that gathered around know how he felt about them. And in amongst the screams came his final sermon.
Though he swore every two words and it came out in a strangled sobbing scream, it was still speaking of the peaceful world that so many trolls had begun to dream of because of him, it spoke of Kankri and Meulin and Mituna and Porrim and as the Signless watched his executioner raise another arrow, he yelled out stories about Horuss and his love for horses and their genitals. He screamed about another signless mutant blood that would surely come one day, and how he would pick up where the Signless left off and he would lead the trolls to a world where blood doesn't matter.
After a few minutes that seemed to last for sweeps, the Signless' head dropped forwards again and he let his eyes wander towards his friends, his family.
If he had never been found that morning, all those sweeps ago, then they would never have had to die this way. His mother at the hands of filthy pirates, his best friend under the employment of the Empress again, and his matesprit, his Disciple... she wouldn't see past tomorrow...
At least they'd be together, the Signless thought...
Him and his Disciple would die today, yes, but they'd wake tomorrow in the new world, and no one will hurt her again because she'll be like a queen in this land.
The Signless whispered a few words about how beautiful the new world was, before the Executioner's final blue arrow flew straight into his heart.
Not another word was spoken. The crowd departed immediately.
The Disciple sat in a curled ball of tears, sweat and leggings. He had promised her a new world, a new journey, but now he was gone, and she knew for a fact that she couldn't achieve this world alone.
She shot up in a flash, dipping her fingers into the blood of the wolf she had killed earlier and scribbled a mess of words on the wall of her new hive. Words that made no sense to anyone but her, but that was okay, because only she would be reading them. Only she would want to remember her Signless in the way he always was. With kind eyes and a loving smile. Everyone else remembered the screams, the curses, the final sermon that wasn't all that friendly, but she knew the true him.
Clawed finger scraped out the word 'Signless'. He wasn't so Signless anymore, his believers had assigned to him the sign of the very handcuffs he died in. After a moment's hesitation she dipped her fingers again, writing out what his followers had also assigned to him after his death. A new name, one to match the trials he'd been through. Her small fingers worked the word onto the wall, where it looked so fitting, with the dark blood of the wolf dripping down from it, making it look one hundred times more sinister. The Disciple grinned manically, whispering out her matesprit's new name as she read it from the wall.
"The Sufferer."
Yeah so that was really long.
Also, I was stuck between making the Psionic's meeting with the Signless filled with attractive men standing up for a woman or making it similar to Hughes and Mustang's friendship, where they don't really get along at first, and they're really competitive.
I ended up making the Psionic and the Disciple's friendship more like Mustang and Hughes in the end, whoops (I think you'll find that I briefly mentioned their friendship like once :))
Also, I think I'm a sucker for the protagonists' love interest and best friend bickering like children until the protagonists' inevitable death, when they become besties.
Thank you for reading, feel free to review if you want!