Title shamelessly ganked from Katy Perry. Wrote this for a fill on homesmut. Feedback would be great!
My headcanon for pre-scratch Alternia is that it was a democracy. Not perfect, but a lot better than the Condesce. Trolls are raised from birth by their ancestors, and the relationship system is basically them same, with less focus on the Ancestors don't really have names or anything, I'm referring to them with the same titles as the Trolls in Hivebent.
If it's not obvious, this fic is from the Sufferer's POV.
Disclaimer: I do not own Homestuck. Hussie is the only one with that privilege.
"Ok8, I think I know wh8 we have to do now!" The Thief looks up from her magic cue ball… thing. She supposedly acquired the thing from "An altern8 universe!" but you think she should've just smashed the thing.
"6RE9T, SO HOW DO WE SCR9TCH THIS FUCK-UP OF 9 SESSION?" It was true. Your session was doomed. There was no alternative other than to "Scratch" your session. At least, that was what Mr. Magic Cue Ball said.
"Well, we'll need…" You stop listening. None of what she says really concerns you. Instead, you turn your attention to your ten other friends.
They're holding up relatively well. Despite the fact that you're all going to be erased from existence and forget everything that's ever happened, no one seems ready to have a psychotic breakdown or anything. The Prince and the Bard are looking a tad antsy, though. You'll have to deal with that later. You're the friendleader here, and it's your duty to ensure your friends' mental integrity! Besides, you're the best shooshpaper in all Alternia. No one can out-shooshpap you. You're simply the best there is.
"Hey, 8irhead!" Oh, great. It's the Thief. "Get your head out of the clouds!"
"hEY! i DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD REALLY BE-"
"Oh, 8e quiet, Wings!" She flips her hair back arrogantly, and continues. "Soooooooo, since some of us were actually listening, we all know wh8 we need to do to for the Scratch!"
The Sylph nods in assent. "I Shall Depart For My Planet Immediately. Kindly Wait For My Return." With that, she's gone.
"I need to g0 t0 my planet t00. Meet me there." The Maid rushes off, no doubt to do mystical timey-wimey things for the Scratch.
Once she leaves, everyone disperses. All that's left to do now is wait.
You notice that the Witch has wandered away from the others. Concerned, you follow.
"HEY, WH9TS UP?" You've always felt a special bond with her. After all, your guardians are the top two trolls in the Alternian Parliament! Your guardian, Karkat Vantas, was the vice-president to her guardian, Feferi Peixes. Both of you have known each other since you were wrigglers.
"O)(, not much. Just the TOTAL and UTT—ER destruction of everything we know and love!" She's crying. You sit her down and put an arm around her shoulders.
"LOOK, I KNOW IT'S B9D, BUT WE DON'T H9VE 9NY OTHER CHOICE." You pap her gently, and continue. "BESIDES, I'M SURE WE'LL MEET UP A6AIN. NOTHING C9N KEEP US 9P9RT, YOU HE9R?"
She looks at you. "Yea)(, I guess you're right." You pap her a few more times.
"BEST P9LEM9TE, RIGHT?"
"Don't give me that! You're, like, pale for –EV—ERYONE!"
"9ND DOES TH9T NOT M9KE ME THE BEST FRIENDLE9DER EVER?"
"O)( s)(us)(, you." She pushes you, giggling a bit. The two of you sit like that for a while longer, content with silence.
"Look, you should probably go talk to the o)(thers. T)(ey need the )(elp more than I do." She cuts off your answer. "I'll be FIN-E! Now go be a good friendleader!" She has a point. You can't neglect everyone else, especially when they need you.
You wander around. The other trolls are bunched around in groups. They all talk with you, gratefully. It hurts, to see them like this, and to know that there's nothing you can really do to help.
After an hour of comforting your friends, you hear a commotion from over a distant hill. The Sylph has returned.
It's time to go.
You proceed solemnly to the Maid's planet. She is waiting for you, on the mesa. The Sylph proffers the quills of her denizen, and the Scratch is begun.
It was inevitable, of course, that the Game would fight this. The toughest underlings you've encountered yet have flocked to the Mesa to try to prevent the incipisphere's undoing. Everyone fights back, with elite weapons and top fraymotifs.
But it's not enough. One by one, they all fall. The Rogue, the Bard, the Seer. Even the Witch. Your heart aches each time, but you fight on.
Eventually, it's just you and the Maid. The Scratch inches forward with every second. You don't know how long you can keep this up. You're bleeding from numerous places, and you can barely keep swinging your sickles. The Maid is still flitting around, there one moment, gone the next. The only proof you can see of her work is when underlings suddenly explode in a poof of grist, killed in the moments between moments.
A stab of pain in your shoulder, and you're down, no doubt for the last time. The needle is nearly at the centre of the mesa. You can't tell where the Maid is, with your rapidly narrowing field of vision.
You know that you should probably feel despondent over your impeding erasure from existence, but all you can feel is hope. Hope that you and your friends will all meet up again in this new universe. That this accursed game will be won, and that you'll all live in peace, like on your destroyed home. That no one will have to die anymore.
Light shoots up, bright enough for even you to see. The Scratch is complete. You smile, staring into that pillar of light with dimming sight. You've done it. You've made it happen.
It's going to be alright.