Chapter Text
TG: hey
TG: im sort of in the shit right now
TG: and by shit i mean "possibly a little off the fucking walls"
TG: just like
TG: potentially
TT: Potentially.
TG: yeah
TT: I'm dusting off my notepad as we speak.
TT: First things first, you generally minimize any presence of emotions by maintaining a façade of apathy known to other mortals as, "being cool." Which you use as a defense mechanism that prevents others from getting too close to you. Secondly, you are likely a closeted homosexual.
TG: oh fuck no
TG: first of all the gay thing is low hanging fruit
TT: Could you not also be described as that very exact thing?
TG: debatable
TG: depends on which of my exes you talk to
TG: but thats not the point
TG: i dont need the armchair rose special where you pull some masturbatory fuckin hogwash and get up in my grill
TG: if i wanted to get real about homoeroticism id ask you about how you feel about gay shit
TG: and youd bust out your typical spiel on tasting the fucking rainbow
TT: You're eating Skittles right now, aren't you.
TG: obviously im not an animal
TG: my application for that teachers assistant job went through
TG: and my dumbass thought "hell yeah masters degree gets paid off for teaching a bunch of pointdexters thats the easy shit"
TG: before my dumbass remembered
TG: im technically one of those bastards
TG: i started taking notes rose
TT: Perish the thought. God forbid one enrolls in a class for the purpose of learning.
TG: my binders have fucking tabs
TT: Sarcasm rescinded. Who hurt you, Dave?
TT: What have you become?
TG: alright i can hear the smug look youre wearing through the phone
TT: Are you using a text-to-speech application?
TG: im sort of flipping out
TG: bouta throw the hottest tantrum this campus ever seen
TG: academics left and right wonderin where the fuck ive been
TG: lemme say for the record, before that record stops
TG: that screech scratching vinyl means the illest beats dropped
TG: sicker than the mess hall an its gross ass disasters
TG: while im taking notes on bullshit to get my fuckin masters
TG: i aint no redneck poser, im the valedic-texan
TG: i'll school your ass in class so theres your first damn lesson
TT: You're stress rapping, Dave. Are you having another crisis?
TT: On a scale of "I ran into Snoop Dogg in a California Tortilla" to "I got drunk and blew a stranger" where are you currently?
TG: is it stress rapping if im basically a prophet to the masses
TT: You're deflecting.
TT: I warned you about unhealthy coping mechanisms.
TT: I told you, dog.
TG: alright dope ref but dont say that in front of the raps youll give them a complex
TG: you might not know this because im cold as ice until im spitting fire
TG: but uh
TG: im sorta like
TG: reasonably apprehensive that the professor is gonna think im a tool
TG: im gonna be teaching alternian media and its cultural overlap with human anthropology or some shit
TG: as a fucking human
TT: Perhaps you should consider the possibility that your fellow teacher is a native Alternian.
TT: I doubt that the administration would make a culturally insensitive oversight.
TG: look i appreciate the attempt to cheer me up but we both know bureaucracy is bureau-crazy
TG: by which i mean its run by old white dudes that dont give two shits about racial sensitivity
TG: with my luck ill be given a lesson plan by some guy named henry williamson jr. that contains racial slurs that i wont know
TG: because i cant speak more than one language
TG: i barely speak english for fucks sake
TG: oh fuck ive gotta go in
TT: I'm dating an Alternian woman. Send me your syllabus if you need to, she'll look it over.
TG: youre WHAT
TG: are we even cousins the fuck why didnt you say that shit earlier
TG: on another note is our gayness fucking genetic
TG: whatever i gotta roll
TG: ill stop by your place later if i havent killed myself
TT: Godspeed.
Dave Strider stared at his cellphone for another minute, perched on a brick wall outside of the Anthropology Department building before leaving to meet with the professor of the class he was going to TA for. He hadn’t actually gotten the name of the guy, just his faculty email and phone number, but Dave hadn’t even been sure that he’d get an email about being hired in the first place.
His resume had, upon Rose’s inspection, contained no less than eight typos.
His hands felt weirdly sweaty. What was the point of hands sweating, anyway? It wasn’t like it cooled anyone off to have perspiring fucking palms, it actually made shit worse, and he kept rubbing them on his jeans before rapping his knuckles on the professor’s office.
“Come in.”
Dave entered, and shortly performed a small flail at the registry of yellow eyes, a charcoal gray complexion, a thick head of wiry black curls with orange horns poking through, and sharp teeth.
“You’re Dave Strider, right? Your reaction was pretty mild, so I’ll give you some points for that. Sit down, maybe.”
“Fuck – I mean, sorry. I uh. I wasn’t expecting –”
“A troll as a professor?” The man said gruffly. “Yeah, neither did most of the other staff.”
Dave pulled up a chair, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, and got seated.
“I’m Dr. Karkat Vantas. Do you have a preference between ‘Dave’ or ‘Mr. Strider?’”
“Uh, nah. Either’s cool. Actually, no, just – just Dave. It’d feel sort of weird for you to call me ‘Mr. Strider’ since you’ve got seniority. I’m technically still a student so, y’know, wanna keep shit respectful.”
Dave closed his eyes at himself in irritation.
Sweet, dude. You’ve been in here for a hot two fucking minutes and you’ve cursed twice.
“I’m real sorry, I’m uh, nervous. I didn’t think I’d actually be considered for this job, so I’m sweatin' like an animal and my filter just goes on a coffee break.”
“That’s funny.” Dave raised an eyebrow, and the professor coughed into his fist. “It’s – like, coffee filters? That’s what they’re called, right? The – the crinkled paper things that hold the coffee grounds.”
Dave barely suppressed a grin.
“Yeah. So, uh, Dr. Vantas –”
“Karkat. I only pull rank when someone pisses me off. Karkat’s fine.”
“Oh, cool. So you’re fine with. Uh. Alright, I swear to God I’m not trying to make a weird thing of it, but are you alright with a human teaching anything on Alternian History?”
Karkat squinted at him, almost doubtingly, and Dave got ready to be torn a new one.
“That’s why I picked your application. I had a few grad students apply, but most of them...”
There was an awkward pause.
“Can we talk normally? No filters? At least in my office, because –”
“Oh, thank fuck, yeah, please, Jesus Christ.” Dave sighed in sheer relief and noticed Karkat similarly relaxed.
“Great. Most of the grads that applied were fucking nookwipes. Absolute dipshits. Walked in here and obviously expected some douchebag named like, ‘Henry –”
“- fucking Williamson Jr.,’ right?!” Dave finished for him, and Karkat roared with laughter.
“Yeah! Fucking exactly! God forbid you’ve got an alien fresh off the intergalactic space ship teaching you about the same fucking culture they came from! Bluh. Your application was pretty decent, considering the bottom of the barrel competition. So!” Karkat clapped his hands together. Dave noticed how pointed his claws were.
“Why do you want to teach ‘The Crossover and Relationship of Alternian and Human Media?’”
“Oh, uh.” Dave cleared his throat. “Well, I’m big on content creation? I make music, write scripts, do comics – and I’ve heard some of the imported shit from Alternia. It’s dope. Not gonna lie that there’s a lot of shit I don’t get, like, culturally, but you’ve got some sick rappers. Or, uh, slam poets. And I dunno, if you’ve got a whole demographic of people that you want to make content for, you should probably know some basic shit outside of what you already know. That’s basically the whole thing with going to college. Unless you wanna count getting fucking wasted your whole first year while taking Gen-Eds as the whole ‘college experience’ thing, but I went to community college for my first two years, so I kinda skipped that.”
Karkat was watching him with interest, crimson irises darting over Dave’s features as though trying to get a read on him.
“Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors? I’ve heard even humans think that’s weird.”
“They do, yeah. Is this part of the interview?”
“It is now. Explain.”
“Right. Uh, I usually tell people it’s because it’s ironically douchey, and therefore funny, and therefore cool as fuck, but uh, it’s. Well, here, I’ll show you.” Dave removed his shades and leaned forward.
“Weird genetic mutation, but I’ve got red eyes. It’s normal for you guys, right? When y'all get older, your eyes take on your blood color. But for humans, it’s considered weird. It’s a common thing in my family. So, keep ‘em covered, no one stares at you, easy breezy. Plus, I’m awful sensitive to light, so it’s just shitty on all levels.”
Karkat was scrutinizing him so intensely that Dave was worried the sweat on his forehead would be visible.
“So you’re a mutant.” Karkat murmured, drumming his nails on his desk, and Dave shifted in his chair.
“I mean, kind of? I’m not a cyclops or anything. I don’t have three legs. It’s, y’know, just a color. Doesn’t have to be a federal fucking issue.”
Karkat breathed a laugh.
“That’s all color is on Alternia. How much do you know about trolls?”
Dave reclined in his seat, peering up at the popcorn ceiling of the office.
“Keep in mind I’ve only taken a few classes actually taught by a troll before, but I know you guys operate more in a matriarchal society than humans. For us, it’s white guys teaching and controlling most shit. You guys function with a single head honcho, the Condesce, and uh, she calls the shots, generally. I’ve heard Alternians described as a war species, which is kind of hilarious.”
“Hilarious?” Karkat repeated, frowning.
“Not in a mocking sorta way. Just that humans aren’t all that peaceful either. Maybe on the surface, but we technically pull the same shit you guys do. I mean, we’re in the United States right now. Shit was motherfucking established on slavery and institutionalized racism, and still cranks off of systemic oppression towards anyone they can fuckin’ take advantage of. I mean, Alternians have the Hemospectrum thing, right? For humans, it’s race, or ethnicity, or religion, or sex, or gender, or sexuality, or literally goddamn anything that we can play ‘spot the difference’ with amongst our stupid asses. The only real difference is at least you guys own your supposed ‘bloodlust.’ I’m talking to you right now, and I’m not getting some stark fuckin’ impression that you’re a monster. It’s not like I’ve gotten hella chances to have a one-on-one dish session with a ton of trolls, but I’ve met a few, and none of y’all ever came across as anything other than folks trying to live their lives normally.”
Dave realized he’d been talking for a while and shut his trap. Karkat’s brow was furrowed.
Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool. You just talked down to your boss. Cool.
“You’ve actually thought about it. Huh.” Karkat muttered, still eyeing Dave with a concentrated fascination.
“Good news. You get the job. Not that there was a chance in hell I was taking this guy –” Karkat shuffled a few folders around, parting one of them and reading it aloud. “‘My goal is to highlight the irrationality behind troll culture and use real media to detail why Alternian concepts should remain where they came from.’ Riveting shit. His think pan must be fucking enormous. Nice work, ‘Seth Thompson,’ you dumb bastard.”
Dave cringed but couldn’t hold back from snorting, and Karkat peeked up at him, smirking.
“So it’s Mondays and Wednesdays, from ten to two. I’ll send you the syllabus. It’s not going to be a massive class, it’s not the most uh… Highly demanded course. I normally just teach Alternian History, so this one should be fun.”
“Who TA’s for you there? That’s an intro level course, must be huge.”
“Mm? No one. It’s just me flapping my squawk blister at like three-hundred wriggler students. My species is naturally nocturnal though, so it’s fine.”
Dave blinked, chuckling in disbelief.
“Dude, wait, no, that doesn’t make sense. You can’t be nocturnal and be teaching classes throughout the day. When d’you even sleep?”
“Sleep is really just a hobby.” Karkat shrugged. “I’m made of tougher stuff than humans.”
Dave didn’t really know how to respond to that without potentially saying something offensive, so he kept quiet.
It was interesting to see a troll up close for longer than a few seconds. Karkat’s skin was clearly thicker than that of a human, textured with minute impressions dotted over the surface. Trolls generally had kind of shadowed eyes, but Karkat had bags under his. His ears weren’t too different from human ones, but were angular, edged, elven.
Dave briefly considered asking Karkat if he could poke him a bit, but then realized that would probably be the worst possible thing he could ask. He noticed the troll had an accent when he spoke, but it wasn’t really close to any other accent Dave had heard. His voice was gravelly and deep, and it was a warm sound when he laughed. He was a good dude, and no one was giving him a hand with over three-fucking-hundred students?
“Alright. Fuck it. What days are your Alternian History classes?”
Karkat hummed an acknowledgement before doing a double-take.
“Oh – no, Dave, I wasn’t trying to give you a damn guilt trip. Plus, you’re an Anthropology major, right? You know about human history, not Alternian. And aren’t you taking a full course load?”
“Yeah, but two of those classes are kinda basic. Talking about one midterm paper, one final, no quizzes. They’re chill. I could pass ‘em in my sleep. One of them is just dedicated to my thesis, and I’ve already got that shit done. Three hundred pages on the development of spoken word across the world and how its evolution reflects respective cultures through tone, rhythm, and dialectical specificity. It’s fire, according to my advisor, and ‘surprisingly engaging’ according to my much smarter cousin.”
“Dialectical what? I know ‘dialect,’ but…?”
“Right, so, Alternian linguistics has certain phrases and shit that don’t translate perfectly to English, right?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Earth is like that all over, man. You guys speak one language, right? But humans don’t. And it’s insanely rad that music actually fuckin’ exemplifies the reasoning behind like, what words mean which thing in each language. All forms of media are entrenched in their culture of origin, and just like you guys have unique movies, literature, and music, humans have that all over the fuckin’ globe. Isn’t that the sickest shit? So my thesis is basically a cross of analyzing linguistics and music with human advancement, starting from the earliest theories we’ve got about how language began on earth.”
“So you’re interested in Alternian media for a similar reason?”
“Hell yeah. You guys have a preposterously fucking ancient civilization, and it’s way more advanced than earth. If there’s overlap, it’s pretty much the responsibility of any half-decent academic to learn from it. Y’know, if uh, if you dig that sort of thing. Which I do. Fuck, I’m talking a lot. Sorry.”
Karkat’s expression hadn’t changed much during his elaboration, and Dave instinctively reached for his shades to put them back on. He felt kind of naked without them. The room fell silent.
“Anyone ever tell you that you kinda look like a statue.” Dave mumbled, growing insecure at how hard Karkat was staring at him. “Like a statue with a consistent level of vague ire.”
Karkat appeared to remember himself, shaking his head like he had been in a trance.
“Sorry, I was just listening. Look, I can’t really just clap my hands and throw you into this spiraling shitstorm with me on a whim. I’d be a steaming pile of barkfiend excrement if I just started wailing a sob story to tug at your blood pusher as a ruse to foist the source of most of my seething rage onto your fragile human torso pillar and possibly snap it in half. I’m saying it’d be a ‘dick move’ on my part.” Karkat explained, evidently catching Dave mouthing several of his physical descriptors in confusion.
“Let me see you in action for the first few weeks, and if you’re feeling suicidal and want something to push you over the edge, I’ve got an accelerated Alternian History course that’s coming up the next peri- next few months. We can make it a suicide pact or something, I don’t know.”
“Well we’re in Texas man, so at least it’s culturally appropriate.”
Karkat snorted, leaning backwards, and rubbing his eyes.
“Fuck. Alright, I’ll email you the syllabus. Call me if you’ve got any questions.”
“Sure. And, uh, thanks, Karkat. Are the shades alright to keep on?”
Karkat propped his chin on his palm, glancing Dave over.
“Yeah. I know the feeling, so you can wear your weird sunglasses inside. See you Monday.”
Dave nodded and shook Karkat’s hand before leaving. Dave didn’t exactly have soft hands, endless sparring sessions with his older brother left him with countless scars and callouses, but he’d probably felt like a baby to Karkat. His skin felt tough, his grip strong, his nails thick enough to be a weapon on their own. It had been a while since someone actually struck Dave as immensely cool.
He called Rose once he was out of the building.
“How’s the identity crisis coming?”
“Rose, he’s a troll. It’s so fucking sick, man. He’s not just some fossilized ass-rider playing tonsil tennis with a bust of George Washington, he actually grew up on Alternia. I’m losing my shit!”
“I would imagine he grew up on Alternia. Trolls don’t really have another option, they haven't been here that long, and there’s no place to have a brood on Earth. They don’t reproduce the same way humans do.”
“Damn, good thing I didn’t ask him about it. The linguistic shit is fucking immaculate, dude. What’s the alien equivalent of anthropology?”
“I’m sure it’s some Alternian word you can’t pronounce. Anthropology comes from –”
“You don’t gotta school me on this Rosie-posey, this shit’s literally my fucking major. Greek root in origin, comes from ‘anthropos’ meaning human being, or man, and ‘logy’ the study of. Y’all just know I crushed my intro courses. Gonna be Dr. Strider in a couple more years. Me and Jade, smartest fuckers in our squad.”
“Are you suggesting higher education is indicative of actual intellect?”
“Not ordinarily. Just in my case. I’m kind of a big deal.”
Rose chuckled over the phone, and Dave pressed his lips together to hold back on smiling.
“What’s his name?”
“Karkat Vantas, PhD.”
“How long has he been here if he achieved a doctorate?”
“Hell if I know. I wasn’t gonna probe around in the guy’s business like a squirrel nosing around for a goddamn nut. I’m nowhere near that nut. Shit’s outta my grasp like that little fucker from those Ice Age movies.”
“Did you think about nuts this much when you were spending time with him?”
“What? No. What? He’s – no. Go write some horny wizard stories if you’re not gonna put a goddamn cap on your weirdly psychosexual accusations.”
“Interestingly, I never said anything explicitly sexual. Nor did I accuse you of anything.”
“What was that? You’re breaking up.” Dave heard Rose giggle. “Whatever, I’ll call you back later.”
Dave hung up and put his phone in his pocket, disgruntled.
“Flighty broad.”