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Letters to a Wriggler.
Letter the first.

Firstly; Kitten, I know you’re reading this. How do I know? Call it a Matesprit’s intuition. I don’t want to hear anything about any foul language you find in this letter, or any that follow it. If our little monster is old enough to read, they’ve damn sure already heard worse from Karkat or someone else.

Right, now that that’s dealt with, I can move on. Jegus K. Vantas, where do I even begin?

Okay, so I have three reasons for writing this thing. Firstly, everyone else seems to be doing it, albino Dave, Kannus… hell, even Nepeta and she’s been writing in non-toxic crayons (bright red, I believe. I guess some things never change)! Secondly, so I can get all this crap straight in my head. A lot has happened to me in less than a sweep and it’s hard to keep everything in its right place, mentally speaking. I barely remember who I was before I wandered in from the random flux of Paradox Space, and I want you to know who I was, both back then and now. Thirdly, to help me get into the ‘paternal’ frame of mind and really face up to the task of being a parent. It’s not a natural state of affairs for a Troll, at least not at the time of writing, I’ve had to do some serious psychological gymnastics, and I have your uncle Karkat to thank for getting even this far…

Enough preamble, let’s get this show on the MoThErFuCkIn’ rOaD, as Gamzee would have said… begin at the beginning, Mor. Come on, you can do it…

Okay, so you know me well enough by now I should hope, my child. Well there’s plenty more to learn yet, I shit you not. Despite all appearances, I was young once, and I was a real bad little shit. How bad? Seriously, I was a right arsehole. I won’t go into details, that’ll have to wait for another letter, but just know that Morull Falyor, Daddy, was not the sort of person you’d want to meet in a backlawn alley… but I got my comeuppance, in good time. It aaaaall came back to bite me square in the backside. Details, again, will have to wait until I can put it into words without devolving into curses at every other stroke (see, kitten, I’m trying).

Well, by and by I came to the Monastery. There I learned all sorts of seriously funky stuff. They taught me how to kick a guy’s kidneys out through his nose, shit like that. Well, not really, but you get the idea.
They also taught me a few things that are *really* worth knowing. Things like self-control, respect, discipline and the worth of an individual. Sounds really gogdamn boring, I know, and it was at the time, but those simple lessons are the ones that mattered most. I came to revere the Sufferer and model myself after him. I accepted his Example and went to extreme lengths to emulate his actions and values, I even went so far as to renounce my Lineage and take off my own fucking horns with a hacksaw. Without anaesthetic (am I hardcore or what, eh?).

Well, this dragged on for a few sweeps and I really got into my new life, locking up my emotions and deadening my Quadrants, becoming the very picture of penitence and contemplative moobeast crap. Then something happened, and I can’t remember precisely what. All I can drag out of my memory of that day is a distant noise, terrifying, painful. Your old man ran like his arse was on fire…

So the next thing I know I’ve found my way to a pub and I just knew my old life was gone. As places to wake up with no past and an uncertain future go, a pub isn’t too damn bad. Better still, this place had a free bar! So guess what? I spent about a week getting shitfaced. Well, what would you do, kid? Actually, don’t answer that.

Turns out the pub was connected to… well, everywhere. Leastways everywhere that was left. So I started exploring, and guess where I ended up? No points, it’s a really easy one. Yeah, I found the Pile. I also found your uncle Karkat. Holy motherglubbin’ shitsticks, you have no idea how big of a deal that even was! I mean… no, you can’t! Here was an actual living Vantas, a scion of the same line that gave us the Sufferer! I don’t think I can explain…

So I decided to hang around and help him out. You know, a little cleaning here, a little tidying there, some cooking on the side… except he didn’t want my services, which confused the everloving shit out of me… so I toned it down and pretended like it was for everyone, but of course that was a lie. I also met Gamzee, who kinda ran the place back then. Ah Gamzee, have you ever even met him? It’s been too long since he was here… well anyway, Gamzee becomes important a little way on from here, patience Padawan.

After a little while this cute little number called Calcus starts following me around, and I mean it’s like her hand’s glued to my fucking backside. Heh, hello again, kitten. Anyway, being the lovely son-of-a-bitch that I am, I humoured her and was polite and generally did the friendly domestic bit… and she was still there! This confused me, but I wasn’t unhappy with it or anything.

Then Gamzee has a little word in my ear, and suddenly I’ve “all up and got my wicked understanding on”. Gog, I love the way he mangled Alternian, even now. I know it won’t be a surprise to you, but it certainly was to me, that this Calcus chick was digging on me something wicked, flushed-wise. Go figure.

Well, one thing led to another and by and by we were up to our little grey ears in the Red for eachother, which by all accounts you should be happy about, and we settled down with the notion that we’d live like the Signless and the Disciple. Heh, ridiculous, woolly-headed romantic pipedream, that was, but we were young and excitable and Paradox Space was our oyster, never mind that we hadn’t even sorted out blocks for ourselves yet. Eventually my fixation on how Humans could out-compete us helped me overcome my old fashioned reservations, and I proposed to your mother, laying plans for how we could bypass the whole ‘loss of the Mother Grub’ issue… somewhere along the line your Granddad adopted me. Yes, that Granddad, how many have you got? To this day I don’t even know his actual name, I called him Si before and afterwards he was always Dad. Maybe his name’s Kankri, like his counterpart from Beforus? We may never know. Or I could just ask him. Huh. Aaaaaanyway…

So fast-forward a few Perigees and we’re married. I’ll tell you about that later, too much to go over. The main point here is that almost immediately after we put our plans into motion and, thanks mostly to Kanaya (she’s another sweet piece of ass. Lovely lady, too) you were conceived. You have no idea what that did for us, what it did for the Hornpile. See, your cousin Kellen was already kicking about, breaking hearts even as a toddler, but you’re the first true-blue, honest-to-gog Troll who’s whole life began out here. Be honoured sprog, we were.

Now’s where my quadrants really come into it. See, up ‘til this stage it was just the two of us, from my side. Your mama had Anelie for a Moirail, but I still had a bit of a lopsided romantic life. Enter your *other* mother, the one who died…

Your mother’s “twin” was…different, death does that to a body. I pitied her sure enough, just not in the same way, and my nearness caused her allsorts of heartache until Uncle Karkat helped us to work out the obvious answer; Moiraillegiance. What even is your auntie calling herself now? I guess I’ll have to wait to find out.
I must have been on a major fucking roll because not seven nights later Braire made a concerted push to get under my skin. She was making a special effort, she must have been. Gah, she drives me *mental* she does! She’s just so perfectly insufferable I could just…

…but that’s not what I’m here to tell you. Long story short, we had angry makeouts in the hallway. Where precisely? Well you know that ding in the wall just to your right as you turn to go to Prycor’ block from the lounge? Yeah, right *there*. Needless to say, Kismesissitude wasn’t far behind that little indiscretion. Oh, and a day or two later one of the Kannus’ got wind of my Moiraillegiance with your auntie and decided to have a pop. There’s a ding a little above the first one that’s shaped like his face. Guess how well he did? Heh.

Oh fuck, what else? I guess as a history lesson on dear ol’ Dad, that’ll have to do, since what happens next even I don’t know yet, this being about where I’ve gotten to, myself. I guess I’ll elaborate some in the next letter, if I even get around to writing it. Cheerio, you little monster. See you in a few Perigees…

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