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You name is Karkat Vantas, you are five sweeps old, and you just asked your adoptive father where baby humans come from.
You really wish you hadn’t.
He’d explained troll grub production years ago, because really all he knew about it was buckets and drones and one day it was wriggling day and you showed up and picked your grub up. He figured you’d get the rest on your own later.
This was much more in detail. And traumatizing.
“- so then,” he said slowly, faltering, and then struggling to think of some kind of euphemism. “Uh. The … shit …” He looks desperately at his desk and seizes on the first two items he finds there: a pen and a coffee mug. “It’s like … that …” he says, sticking the pen into the mug repeatedly, trailing off when you look like you’re about to pass out. “But … uh … well it’s kind of like that. And then some fucking – wait, shit, no, I mean yes, literally but no not in, you know never mind – some biology or something occurs –” your dad is obviously not a scientist “– and you’ll learn about that in science, I’d expect and uh, nine months later there is a baby.” He sets the cup down, spikes the pen into it, and rests one bony cheekbone on his fist. “Miracle of goddamn life.”
“Jesus Christ,” is all you can manage. “Where does it grow?”
“Uh. In the, er, woman.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yup.”
“Does it … is there an explosion? Is that what happens when the baby is … ?”
“I don’t … think so?” Your dad wasn’t educated so much as programmed, and he came from a society where new humans were cloned, rather than being produced the natural way. And even so, Archagents weren’t really to know about those sorts of details, so it would be fair to say his knowledge was patchy at best. “I mean, not something you hear about. Dames just … exploding.”
You think about it at length, although you try not to do so too deeply. “I think … I am glad I’m a troll.”
“Yeah. Cloning’s easier. Less … possibly explosive.” You exchange a look, and then grab the remote off his desk and turn the TV on.
“Let’s never fucking mention this again,” you say.
Slick nods and pulls his flask out. “Done.”
-()-
Sometimes, you wish your dad would not get it into his head to talk to you about things. Especially things you already know enough about to know you want no parts of them. Especially awkward things.
Your name is Sollux Captor and your father just brought up human reproduction. He clearly thinks you need to learn about this. You want to humor him, you really do, but this is just taking it a step too far.
“So Sollux, uh, when a man and a woman love each other very much, or, well I guess they could hate each other too, look at Slick and Snowman –” your brain spasms a little “– or, well, I guess there don’t have to be very many feelings there at all beyond just, you know, wanting …” He rubbed the back of his neck and put his other hand on his hip, pensive. “Well, uh, I mean, I can’t remember why I thought this was important but I wrote a note about it so it must be.”
“Dad, it’th really okay if you don’t want to talk about thith now,” you say carefully, peeking over the top of your laptop screen. “Maybe gather your thoughtth.”
“Oh! No, no I remember now. It’s because Droog said something about you and Aradia and I figured it was about time.”
“Dad, we’re trollth, it doethn’t work the thame way.”
“Well, I mean, the more you know, right, Sollux? Anyway.” He sits down next to you in the couch and pulls a tablet and some crayons out of a coat pocket. Your eyes go wide.
“Dad, no.”
“So when a man and a woman are either very drunk or actually want a baby –”
“Pleathe thtop.”
“– or sometimes they just forget, you know how it is –” he raised the crayon.
“Dad, no.”
“And then the man takes his pants off and the woman … well, depending on what she’s wearing she might not have to do anything at all, I guess.” He started drawing.
You cannot take this. You are a genius, but your brain is simply not equipped for this. You slam your laptop shut and stand up, stretching. “Oh, man, I thure an tired.” You pat your father on the shoulder. “Thorry, Dad, we’ll have to finithh thith later. I’m beat.”
“Oh. Okay then! Have a good night, Sollux,” he calls after you, as you flee to your bedroom in the apartment and slam the door and drop to your knees to pray he’s forgotten about this all by tomorrow.
-()-
“Daddy, how are human babies made?” Aradia asks innocently one evening, while she’s sitting next to you, working on her homework.
You look down at your daughter and try not to choke on your cigarette. She smiles up at you, innocently. You taught her that. You hate it when she uses it against you.
“Biologically,” you say, and hope that settles it.
“How biologically? That’s not an answer, Daddy, it’s a deflection.” You are torn between pride and annoyance. “I’m old enough to know about this, Daddy; I already know about trolls. Just because you’re a human doesn’t make it taboo.” She crosses her arms and shakes her hair out a little. “It’s a cultural difference.”
You frown and then shrug. “A man and a woman have sex, the sperm fertilizes the egg, the fetus gestates for nine months and then the woman gives birth. The end.”
She pats you on the knee. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Your paper folds over and you stare at her for a second. “You knew, didn’t you, Aradia?” She nods happily. You sigh. “Go to your room.”
She hugs you and then jumps off the couch. “Goodnight, Daddy.”
You can’t blame her for being so devious, really, but you do wish she’d practice on someone else.
-()-
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you desperately want to know how to attract a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. You are not sure you really care.
After ruminating on the issue for an extended period of time, you finally give in and ask your father. He’s thrilled beyond words.
“The key,” he tells you solemnly, across the kitchen table, “is to find out what the other person likes. Now if we’re talking dames – trolls, humans, I don’t care – you want to find the thing they like that makes them feel comfortable and accepted. Show them you care, you know? Some dames it’s a candlelight dinner, some dames it’s a dozen roses, some go in for the simple stuff: breakfast, or whatever. You don’t wanna come at ‘em with something that’ll make you seem like a jerk – we’re talkin’ about goddamn romance, not cheap smut, right?”
You nod fervently and lean forward.
“Right, so you make sure you like this girl, really like her, and then you’re gonna talk to her to find out what she likes, an’ if you still like her. An’ then you’re gonna start showin’ you listen, just little things at first, like if she says she likes French toast you take her out for breakfast one morning, you know? You always let the dame set the pace, Tavros, just keep letting her know you’re ready to move forward when you are. Dames are sly, they know these things. Don’t kiss her until she puts off all the signals she wants you to.”
“When’s that?” you ask.
“She’s gonna look you in the eye, right, and maybe look away a little but if she does she’ll be smiling, and then she’s gonna lean in. That’s your cue. Keep your eyes half-open, like they’re closed, and then kiss her wherever she wants to be kissed. She might pull a fast one on you and go for the cheek, an’ that’s okay, some dames are shy.”
You nod, and then frown. “Dad?”
“What, son?”
“This, uh, this seems like, like a lot to, uh, remember.” He nods. “Um. I’m just, uh, not sure I can, uh, remember all this in the, the moment, you know?”
Hearts nods and then ruffles your hair. “It is. You’ll get it.”
“You, uh, you think I might?”
“Pretty sure you will. Eventually.”
-()-
You name is Die. You don’t have a last name. You don’t have a chair to sit on, so you are sitting cross-legged on the floor. You don’t have very much, really, besides a green tux, a voodoo doll, some weird powers, and the world’s most patient boyfriend. You also don’t have an answer for the question your coworker’s kid just asked you, not because you don’t know but because oh my God.
You are glad the world’s most patient boyfriend has an answer. You are less glad he has your voodoo doll.
“So then,” Crowbar explained, picking up the scalebuddy and Die’s doll, “the man and the woman kiss –” the doll and the dragon toy kiss, and you hope desperately your doll is the man, because you’ve always thought of it as a him and you’re not sure you can change your mind at this stage “– and then they decide they want a baby, right?”
“Right!” Terezi is watching this all with rapt interest. She can’t see, and you know that, but it doesn’t seem to hold her back any.
“So then they go to the bedroom and uh, get in bed –” he pauses, and for one terrifying moment you think he’s going to take your hat, but then he just grabs the handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and drapes it over the two “– and then they … make love,” he settles on, while he bounces the scalebuddy on top of the voodoo doll. You are cringing and covering your eyes.
“Oh, so that’s how it happens,” Terezi says, as though everything has suddenly become clear. “He puts the baby-making components into her filial bucket and the grub pupates into an infant while it’s in her, right?”
“… More or less.” You decide that’s enough demonstrating for one day and grab your doll back. “Easy, Die.”
“Die,” Terezi says, leaning forward and laying one hand on your knee, “I am sorry your doll has been impregnated by my scalebuddy. I will make sure he is there for her until Stitch finishes the babies.”
Crowbar and Terezi laugh. You just whimper until Crowbar hugs you and assures you Stitch will not be making scalebuddy-voodoo doll mixed species offspring.
You hope he’s not lying.
-()-
“Hey, Mom?” You look up from your su-do-ku puzzle to see Vriska standing at attention in the middle of the kitchen floor. “What’s sex? For humans?”
You glare at her. “Vriska, I refuse to tell you anything about that.”
“Why?” she whined. You sigh and put your pencil aside so that you can cross your arms.
“Why don’t you tell me why you think I won’t divulge any of that information?”
She paused. “Uhhh. Uh, because … because I am not old enough yet?” She glared. “But you let Crowbar and Die tell Terezi! I asked Itchy and he said he couldn’t say because you told him not to!”
Oh, thank God, you’d been worried about that. You’re delighted leaving him tied up in the basement without coffee for hours last time he didn’t listen to you seemed to do the trick. “Good for Itchy.”
Vriska huffed and crossed her arms. “This isn’t fair!”
You smirk and pull out your ace in the hole. It’s a book, illustrated in crayon and colored pencil, drawn on spiral loose-leaf paper, all in Vriska’s hand. “It might have something to do with this.”
Vriska paled. “Uh oh.”
“Yes.” You look at the cover, eyebrow raised. “Vriska Serket’s Sexy Sex Tips for Having Sex-x-x-x-x-y Sex. That’s five x’s.”
“I, uh … Uh, it was Tavros’s idea.”
“Go to your room, dear.”
She glares at you, but she doesn’t have a leg to stand on in this particular battle, so she skulks out of the kitchen, leaving you to page through the manual, carefully, because there’s glitter pouring out of the pages, unheld by the cheap gluestick paste. You mutter the first page aloud to yourself, and you can help but laugh. “Always 8e sexy. EVERY moment is a moment to 8e sexy in. 8e sexy at work, or around the home!”
You think you might show this to Slick next time you see him. You could both use a laugh.
-()-
Your name is Eridan Ampora, and you already know how sex works. You know where babies come from. You know this, because your friend Feferi explained troll reproduction to you some time ago, and you couldn’t care less about filthy human reproduction. Your father seems determined to pound it into your head, though, thankfully not literally.
“So it’s like this,” he says, while all the blood drains out of your face and he shoves a banana in and out of a doughnut. “And the dame gets all whiny and you just kind of keep going unless she tells you not to, because that’s what dames do, Eridan, they whine, but it isn’t really, it just sounds like it, and then you gotta look manly and then bam it happens and you’re good to go and she says ‘is that it’ because she’s so satisfied and pregnant.”
“Oh my God, Dad.”
Ace Dick lit a cigar and nodded at you. “It can be a lot to take in.”
“I don’t … I don’t knoww vhat to say. There are literally no vords.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“So many questions. So. Many.”
Ace’s eyes narrow, as he catches on that you are exactly the opposite of in awe. “Are you mocking me, Eridan?” You are silent, still too stunned to come up with a retort, so he punches you in the face to establish that you should go to your room. It’s not hard enough to even hurt, but your oft-abused glasses break and you glare. “They’re not even prescription,” he grumbles.
“Irregardless,” you snap, before grabbing the roll of Scotch tape and absconding to your room, ensuring your cape sweeps out dramatically behind you.
-()-
“Daddy?” you ask, kneeling on the floor of your apartment, by your whelping box. The cat inside – you have named her Meowrie Antoinette – blinks slowly up at you and purrs softly when you run one hand down her head and neck.
“Yes?” PI looks up, startled away from his crossword, and then he smiles at you as you look to him. “What is it?”
“Baby humans –” you hear him pick up his teacup, and then hear the cup starting to rattle against the saucer “– are they purrduced like kittens?”
“It’s … very similar. Er, ah, that is to say, um, they are, ah, b-both m-mammals.”
You turn around and beam at him, which doesn’t seem to help his nerves. You just pat Meowrie. “It’s okay, Daddy. I don’t need to know anything else. I can figure the rest out myself.”
“Oh,” he said faintly. “Good.” And then he passed out on the kitchen table.
You just giggle and whisper to Meowrie, “He’s so silly.”
-()-
Your name is Problem Sleuth, and this is your absolute worst nightmare.
You heard word that the other kids in Kanaya’s class were getting ‘The Talk’. You can’t resist. It is time.
She has to hear the bitter truth.
You clear your throat. “Kanaya?”
“Yes, Father?” she looks up mildly from her homework, and then pauses when she notices how tense you are in your seat, hands folded in front of you. “Is there something on your mind?”
“Kanaya, there’s, um, something we need to talk about. Er.”
She blinks and closes her composition book. Then she folds her hands and raises her eyebrows. “Is this the talk wherein you instruct me on the exact manner of reproduction of humans?”
“Uh,” you say.
“I have heard several methods recounted by my classmates, and while some were either woefully vague or, I think, amusingly misguided, I believe I have the general gist of the goings-on well understood.” She smiled. “I believe you can save yourself the embarrassment of having to explain.”
“How …” You shake your head. “How did you know?”
“It is all the others discuss over lunch. I am enjoying the developing theories, and Rose and I particularly take amusement from Vriska Serket’s Sexy Sex Tips for Having Sexy Sex. Are you aware, Father, that to increase your inherent sexiness it is helpful to replace all liquids you use daily with vodka?”
You didn’t, but at the moment it’s sounding attractive. “All you kids discuss, you say? What, uh, if I may ask …”
“Yes, I can see where you are heading with that question. I believe that the general consensus right now is that when a man finds out what a woman wants, and he wants to have sex with her, he buys her a nice dinner, sprays his scent on her to establish she is his female, and then he takes her home under his handkerchief, and then he puts his banana in her coffee mug and they bounce up and down while wearing costumes that the other finds attractive and sexy. Through the process of biology the man then fertilizes the woman’s filial bucket, which in humans is internal, and then nine months later a baby explodes out of her stomach.”
You blink.
She smirks. “Clear as crystal.”
“And you know that –”
“Yes, father. It is all comically muddled and confused, however I am doing my best not to meddle, as Vriska insists I do altogether too much of that to begin with.”
“Yes well.” You pause, shift in your chair. “Perhaps you should …” She raises her eyebrows and you sigh. “Never mind.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Father.” She re-opened her composition book and picked her pencil back up. “The truth will out, even in this group. It usually does, anyway.”
“Maybe just say something about the bit with the spraying.”
“Yes, that’s probably wise.” She giggled and penciled in an answer. “I think I will allow the continued belief of explosion, though. It’s not entirely inaccurate, and I have to admit I do find it fairly amusing. Especially because John Egbert’s sound effect for it is ‘pchoooooo’.”