#pride motht

[mistilteinn-magolor]

MORE shitass school doodles!!! yay!!!

[deterministpalindrome]

That’s it, you can’t do anymore. There’s nothing left for you to learn, having poured perigees worth of research into your pan, memorizing facts and trivia and systems and god knows what else to the point where you’re honestly surprised you’re not reflexively answering questions with absolutely unrelated data. You can’t even stall any; you’ve been through every conceivable article on the subject, and you’re sure as fuck not reading them again. The only option left is for you to troll up, put your horns back, and just fucking do it already, so you do, boots thumping down hallways on the way to your destination.

Today was the day you were giving your ancestor his kidney back.

It’s that determination that gets you to his door in the castle, not wanting to message him first and risk getting trapped between his excitement and praise and making him worry by closing the window abruptly. Of course he might not be here, and you’re resigned to having to do this multiple times if that’s true, but what you failed to consider is if he had other people there.

“This is a surprise.” The smile aimed down at you is not from your ancestor answering the door. No, that’s the fucking Signless, looking eerily like your Karkat in a way that makes you wonder how you and Twoblade look to other people. “Good evening, would you like to come in?”

“Uh, yeah, actually. I wath looking for Twoblade, ‘th he here?”

“You have excellent timing, he’s just returned.” He steps aside and gestures invitingly into your ancestor’s blocksuite, leading your hesitant following into the socialblock where Twoblade has just sat down, relaxing and smiling at... Madam Suntouch, who is sitting across from him, with a matching smile and a cup of tea. Oh god, you’re interrupting a visit. Why didn’t you message ahead. You’re gonna die.

The other two look up as you both approach, ears perking from Newsight down to you, and yours dip down. Madam Suntouch offers a soft, “Good evening,” as well, right before Twoblade’s bright grin and “Pal! Goodnethh, thuch a nithe thurprithe! Would you like ta join uth for tea? Or perhapth dinner, we were jutht dithcuthhin it.”

“Uh, n. No, I wath, actually here on buthinethh?” That sounded awful, like a two sweep old talking to an adult for the first time. Troll up Captor, you’re here as a medic. “I finithhed rethearch and practithe on kidneyth, and I’m ready ta fikth yourth.” You press on past the various surprised and delighted reactions. “When do you wanna do thith?” Tomorrow or the next night, you think, in the medical wing, just you and him in a professional atmosphere so you’re better at fixing your actual ancestor...

“I don’t thee why not now,” Twoblade’s voice and smile is pleased, proud even, and Madam Suntouch agrees. “I would enjoy seeing you work, Twoblade has told us much about you.”

Fantastic. No pressure at all.

A thick swallow of nerves and you agree, because you’re an idiot and there’s no clear way to back out of this without offending your ancestor, his lusus, and the fucking Signless. Newsight finds a chair in a good spot to watch and settles in while Twoblade asks what he needs to do. There’s nothing really, you can clip through clothes just like you can skin and bone, so all you tell him is to stay still and breathe evenly, and the usual warnings about how weird it’s gonna feel. A deep breath for yourself, wings slipping out to fan behind you, and you stick your hands into his gut, focusing on the task at hand.

It’s not a complete focus, you can tell they’re talking to each other over your head, and you could probably spare enough attention to dig out actual words, but you’re creating an organ out of nothing in pieces, you’d rather not risk fucking this completely up. Twoblade chuckles at one point, and without even thinking about it, you pull out a hand and smack his chest with the back of it before returning to work. It’s probably best you didn’t hear the pleased pride in his words, nor in Madam Suntouch’s either, as you need to finish this and dying would not help.

You have no idea how long it takes, but finally the inside of this fucking complicated cellular bullshit is crafted to your satisfaction, and after one last double check, you sigh and pull out your hands. “Think that thhould do it. You feel any pain or anything wrong with anything, you thay thomething, yeah? No noble bullthit-” and you balk, finally looking up at the three adults watching you and startling at how they’re looking at you. You were expecting awe, excitement, maybe some pride from Twoblade, but not this, not pride from all of them at the focus, not satisfaction like you lived up to their expectations, certainly not approval. You can feel yourself hunching under all the tall positivity, suddenly acutely aware that you are a wiggler.

“I will, do not worry on that,” oh, right, you’d said something to Twoblade, him replying makes sense, “though I sincerely doubt I will have ta, your thkill ith remarkable.”

Madam Suntouch inclines her head in agreement. “It is quite impressive to see a god at work, and I am glad I was here for it.”

“I as well, though it’s hardly a surprise,” Newsight’s smile edges up into a grin and again, you’re reminded of Karkat, “not from Twoblade’s descendant and ‘the Paladin.’ ” 

Your ears perk in surprise at that last bit, adding ‘baffled’ to the mess that is you kneeling in the middle of this circle of praise while your face hurdles towards becoming solid gold. “...the what?”

“The Paladin,” he repeats. “I’m rather sure it’s you they were talking about. Twoblade’s descendant who sparred with him and protected his students so well. Of course, there are certainly enough Captors running around here that I could be mistaken, or the wigglers could have left something out during their chain lettering of the story, but..”

“Oh no, that wath motht certainly him,” Twoblade’s expression is even brighter now, and your blush and urge to hide deepen. “I remember that fight very well, he ith ath thkilled ath they are thaying.” That expression turns to you, and somehow you survive the additional fondness and pride. “It theemth you’ve gotten yourthelf a title.”

Again you find yourself under the pleased gaze of all of them, and your ears dip to your shoulders. “But I. I’m. I’m thtill a wiggler?” You can’t have a title, you haven’t proven yourself worthy enough for even consideration, let alone done anything impressive enough to gain one.

“Perhapth, but thith ith hardly our timeline, the ruleth are different here. And obviouthly tho, thince you’ve been given one. Age no longer matterth, Paladin.” Oh god you’re going to die. What do you even say?

Madam Suntouch saves you from that problem by introducing you to a different hell. “Would you like to stay for dinner, now that your official duties have finished?” Her smile broadens when you stupidly nod in agreement, and the three of them welcome you into the fold.

The rest of the evening is an affectionate bundle of treating you like one of their own, letting you be quiet but engaging you as well, chattering pleasantly when they weren’t teasing, along with the occasional bit of advice. At some point, Twoblade mentions you could bring your title up to eight letters by doubling the I, and Newsight starts giving him shit immediately about how mangled his own title had gotten in an effort to do the same. 

You know they’re just regular trolls but it’s still startling to see them act like it, enough that you feel honored that you could. They’re sad to see you go when you do, but understanding that you have other things to tend to, and welcome you back again whenever you wish. The door closes and your boots thump against the hall again as you head hive, still reeling from all this. Fuck. You have a title. You have to tell everyone.