[Does he even need to point out the ~*irony*~ inherent in Dave calling him fat and requesting to be fed in the same breath. Because wow. Wow. Sure, Dave hadn't actually used the word "fat," but "titanic weight" is pretty fucking unambiguous and fuck him anyway, not everyone could be a pool noodle.
Karkat is pale enough for this asshole that the highly audible growl from his stomach stays any acerbic remarks to this effect, though; he huffs quietly instead and reluctantly starts peeling himself away. He is the one who'd brought it up, so—]
You're lucky I'm feeling magnanimous enough to not abscond with both of these and finish them off myself.
[He's trying to grumble and for once it isn't working. Focusing on how fucking aggravating it is to reach over grab the Happiny Meals sort of helps, but settling in at Dave's side again is ruining even that and asjdfklghlhasf what kind of troll is that easily pacified?
Vengefully, he steals one of Dave's chicken nuggets and eats it right in front of him. Hah.]
[He rolls onto his front and grabs the box to check, then turns the frown up to eleven at Karkat's smug chicken-thieving face. The fiend. Dave whines and throws himself across Karkat's legs, even if these are his just deserts.]
Duuuuuuuude. You do only love me for my nugs.
[...And then he retaliates by trying to go after Karkat's fries.]
[—Oh you asshole, he's barely touched those fries, why are you such a douche. Karkat is already at a disadvantage, though, because not only is he slower than Dave but he's also busy trying to stifle his snickering at what is unmistakably a pout on his moirail's face. The retaliatory fry larceny is just the mucus on the grubloaf, and the moment Dave succeeds, he gives up on trying to contain his laughter completely.]
You—[SNRK] you are such a fucking wiggler sometimes.
[Pfffthahahahahasldfjghk fuck, why is laughing weird. He's not doing it especially loudly, and he could probably stop if he really tried to, but oh my god, Dave, what even was that.
Still smiling, he fishes out one of his own remaining chicken nuggets and offers it.]
[He holds onto his tuberous hostages with put-upon, stubborn resolve, but, fie! That crunchy golden surface glistening with fucking fryer oil, the aroma of miscellaneous poultry parts whose provenance was better left unquestioned...Fair chicken nugget doth draw the Goode Knight's eyes, and Dave is but mortal; he falters.
His gaze flicks from the chicken to Karkat's face and back, and, yeah, that's it, his determination crumbles like the cheap piece of shit it is, and he's not even mad, though he pretends to be.]
Fiiiiine.
[He relinquishes the fries. It's because this is fair reparation for Karkat's TREASON and not because Dave made him laugh and feels like a superhero, okay. But even before he can take a bite, Karkat's (awesome, amazing, fucking adorable) smile catches, spreads on Dave's face, too.
He takes a small, smiling bite, chews and swallows politely, and then gestures with the rest of the nugget.]
Just so you know, that? Total wedlock ritual. We're human married now, hope you're cool with that. Tax benefits, hurrah.
[Yeah, like he can't detect when Dave is bullshitting him by now? Or, okay, not always and neither of them are even trying to be serious at the moment, but Karkat still raises an eyebrow tries to suppress his smile into something a little more indulgent. The result is just condescending enough to make him look alarmingly like Kankri, but he is blissfully unaware of this.]
Doesn't being human married mean we have shared ownership of each other's stuff? So I'm fucking entitled to all your chicken nuggets from now on, Dave. All of them.
[You are the instrument of your own undoing, or rather would be if this arrangement didn't go both ways. On that note, doesn't Karkat have a few unclaimed nuggets left somewhere? Hmm.
His expression softens into something unforgivably fond, and suddenly self-conscious, he glances down at his deep-fried tuber strips. Yum, grease. Human food isn't that disgusting sometimes.]
You're wearing the dress, right?
[... He may be feeling a little too gooey at Dave in general to try that hard at continuing the joke, human marriages are his weakness okay, Dave knows this.]
Uh, yes? Karkat, you're perfect, don't change, but you do not have the legs for it, just saying. I'm gonna be a goddamn vision. I vote Jade our best man and John the maid of honor, if he can stop crying slash singing Journey songs long enough to perform his bridal party duties.
[Dave considers everything he's just said, then digs out the toy from his Happiny Meal. It's a Grumpig spinning a lasso, and he opens it with a fake solemn expression that doesn't quite hide the wannabe grin that keeps tugging at his lips.
The lasso doesn't come out, so he just takes Karkat's hand and slips the whole thing over one finger, cowboy Grumpig and all.]
With this ring, I thee wed, et cetera. There, now everybody throws rice and stuff and we take off in our getaway limo. After an undisclosed number of days in which we do unspeakable things to my wedding dress, we return to our private island, where I carry you across the threshold into a mansion packed wall-to-wall with nothing but spicy Cheetos and Cameron Crowe movies. You cry a little and then we cuddle and you tell me I'm very pretty. We adopt three babies and all their first words are "fuck." The end.
[Karkat bites his lip but can't quite stop his laughter from bubbling up again, and ducking his head to try and hide it is fucking useless because that just puts him at the perfect angle to see that "ring" and holy fucking shit he can't, goddammit, Dave, what kind of idiot gives their moirail a Happiny Meal toy as a wedding ring? To say nothing of the fact that it's completely the wrong quadrant—
His smile flickers, but he doesn't pull his hand away even if he really fucking should. Instead, he traps Dave's carefully between his own and oh fuck, oh no, oh shit, abort. Hahaha, what is this, it clearly isn't happening, that's what!]
When did we get a private island? And yeah, you'd be—fucking radiant.
HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT oh god oh god oh god is there a way to salvage this?? What the fuck does he say, can he say anything??]
I mean, that's what all brides want to hear on their wedding day, right?
--I mean, I prefer the phrase "booty rockalicious," but sure, if the traditional language does it for you, I'm not gonna complain about a little physical affirmation in my last hour of blushing maidenhood.
[Hah! Nailed it. He is the Savior of the Awkward Assholes, it's him. Dave flops over onto his back to spare them both having to look at each other, because he is nothing if not a benevolent god.]
Anyway, our private island's a wedding present from Jade, while John's the one who donated the snacks and movies. Rose'll give us an eldritch kraken to put in our moat but she'll forget to train it, so we housebreak it with a Baby's First Puppy guide and every day you come back from your grueling job at the factory, it makes happy noises and licks your face with a tentacle.
[Dave illustrates everything with his hands, and at the last bit, he just reaches up and boops Karkat's face. Boop.]
[YES. GOOD, NOW DAVE IS TALKING SENSE or rather complete fucking nonsense, but that's exactly what both of them need to hear to forget the unbelievable awkwardness that was the last, ugh, Karkat doesn't even want to know and he's not the Knight of Time here anyway, that part of the conversation never happened and that's what matters.
... And, even if Dave isn't blushing, a certain former troll is probably blushing enough for the both of them. Fortunately, he has greasy fried food stuff in his face to hide it.
Oddly, he hadn't anticipated the boop.]
Dave, what the fuck.
[His tone is flat, but despite how tempting it is to turn and look at Dave, he's feeling pretty happy with the minor distance he'd retreated when Dave had lain back again, just because he'd needed that additional buffer. Hahahahaaldksgfjhdgj he is not having... he's having nothing. Hypothetically nothing is taking place here because he absolutely wouldn't be considering anything other than perfect pale propriety toward his moirail, because that's how quadrants work. He knows how quadrants work, he is a romance savant.
He fidgets with a fry, then shoves it down his meal tunnel. Gosh these sure are delicious.]
You want a horrorterror as a pet. And... wait, why the fuck am I working at a factory? What factory? Why aren't you working?
[Yes, he's actually getting a little engaged in this imaginary scenario that is totally unrelated to the nonexistent one previously mentioned. Haha, engaged. Haha. Ha. Fuck, maybe he's imagining it? Again. That other time was clearly a fluke, right, so—fuck, no, he's not thinking about that right now, tell him more about this space kraken they're going to use as some unnecessarily elaborate bouncer for their equally extravagant mansion.]
You work at the romcom factory where they make romcoms, duh. You can be, like, the C.E.O., is that more respectable?
[Shrug!]
Anyway, I didn't say I don't work, but someone's gotta look after the wigglers.
[As he tucks his arm under his head as an extra pillow, though, Dave realizes he doesn't actually have a fucking clue what he would do, if he'd had the opportunity to grow up. He hesitates, trying to remember what he used to want to be. He has to have had some dream, right?]
Huh. I guess I...go back to doing SBaHJ? Keeping the frothing public satiated, handling all the merchandising...start my blog up again, maybe.
[That sounds...not very fulfilling, actually. Quick, go back to bullshit.]
Eh, I dunno, actually three entire kids might keep me pretty busy. Are you prepared to sustain me in the lifestyle to which I'm accustomed, dude? The taxes on our island are probably fucking horrendous.
[... The romcom factory where they make romcoms. Wow.]
You mean the studio? And what the fuck, I thought you were kidding about the wigglers.
[Joking about joking about the wigglers. Yes. This makes sense. Also, don't think he didn't notice that redirect, Strider, he is way too familiar with your bullshit for that.]
Trolls aren't... I mean. [Fuck is this not a safe topic. Uh—] Wigglers or human babies? You've said both.
[Nice save. Not. Time to shove a chicken nugget in his talk blaster and chew angrily because argh ugh blargh, fuck everything.]
You could still get a job, don't even try that shit. Gl'bgolyb did all right with Feferi, so—
[Yes he is suggesting that this eldritch kraken play babysitter so they can both work. What? It makes total sense.]
That only works if our wiggler babies can swim, Karkat. ...Also, one of each, and the third is...
[He thinks about it, because a hybrid wiggler-baby (a wiggly? a bageler?) mostly just sounds kind of horrifying, but then he lights the fuck up.]
A baby Mayor. Shit, that would be the most adorable dopeness!
[Baby Mayor in a baby carrier. Baby Mayor in a stroller. Baby Mayor sleeping all curled up under a baby mobile version of the Incipisphere, covered in a soft blanket patterned with cans. HE WANTS A BABY MAYOR RIGHT TF NOW.]
As if I could bear to leave the Bayor to slave away at a desk gig like some kind of standard corporate peon. I got the right coloring to be a lusus, anyway, maybe this is just my calling and you didn't know it.
[Stay-at-home dad Dave Strider. You heard it here first.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Karkat is pale enough for this asshole that the highly audible growl from his stomach stays any acerbic remarks to this effect, though; he huffs quietly instead and reluctantly starts peeling himself away. He is the one who'd brought it up, so—]
You're lucky I'm feeling magnanimous enough to not abscond with both of these and finish them off myself.
[He's trying to grumble and for once it isn't working. Focusing on how fucking aggravating it is to reach over grab the Happiny Meals sort of helps, but settling in at Dave's side again is ruining even that and asjdfklghlhasf what kind of troll is that easily pacified?
Vengefully, he steals one of Dave's chicken nuggets and eats it right in front of him. Hah.]
Are you going to sit up or what?
no subject
Dude--was that my last one?
[He rolls onto his front and grabs the box to check, then turns the frown up to eleven at Karkat's smug chicken-thieving face. The fiend. Dave whines and throws himself across Karkat's legs, even if these are his just deserts.]
Duuuuuuuude. You do only love me for my nugs.
[...And then he retaliates by trying to go after Karkat's fries.]
no subject
You—[SNRK] you are such a fucking wiggler sometimes.
[Pfffthahahahahasldfjghk fuck, why is laughing weird. He's not doing it especially loudly, and he could probably stop if he really tried to, but oh my god, Dave, what even was that.
Still smiling, he fishes out one of his own remaining chicken nuggets and offers it.]
Haha, here. We cool?
no subject
His gaze flicks from the chicken to Karkat's face and back, and, yeah, that's it, his determination crumbles like the cheap piece of shit it is, and he's not even mad, though he pretends to be.]
Fiiiiine.
[He relinquishes the fries. It's because this is fair reparation for Karkat's TREASON and not because Dave made him laugh and feels like a superhero, okay. But even before he can take a bite, Karkat's (awesome, amazing, fucking adorable) smile catches, spreads on Dave's face, too.
He takes a small, smiling bite, chews and swallows politely, and then gestures with the rest of the nugget.]
Just so you know, that? Total wedlock ritual. We're human married now, hope you're cool with that. Tax benefits, hurrah.
no subject
Doesn't being human married mean we have shared ownership of each other's stuff? So I'm fucking entitled to all your chicken nuggets from now on, Dave. All of them.
[You are the instrument of your own undoing, or rather would be if this arrangement didn't go both ways. On that note, doesn't Karkat have a few unclaimed nuggets left somewhere? Hmm.
His expression softens into something unforgivably fond, and suddenly self-conscious, he glances down at his deep-fried tuber strips. Yum, grease. Human food isn't that disgusting sometimes.]
You're wearing the dress, right?
[... He may be feeling a little too gooey at Dave in general to try that hard at continuing the joke, human marriages are his weakness okay, Dave knows this.]
no subject
[Dave considers everything he's just said, then digs out the toy from his Happiny Meal. It's a Grumpig spinning a lasso, and he opens it with a fake solemn expression that doesn't quite hide the wannabe grin that keeps tugging at his lips.
The lasso doesn't come out, so he just takes Karkat's hand and slips the whole thing over one finger, cowboy Grumpig and all.]
With this ring, I thee wed, et cetera. There, now everybody throws rice and stuff and we take off in our getaway limo. After an undisclosed number of days in which we do unspeakable things to my wedding dress, we return to our private island, where I carry you across the threshold into a mansion packed wall-to-wall with nothing but spicy Cheetos and Cameron Crowe movies. You cry a little and then we cuddle and you tell me I'm very pretty. We adopt three babies and all their first words are "fuck." The end.
no subject
[Karkat bites his lip but can't quite stop his laughter from bubbling up again, and ducking his head to try and hide it is fucking useless because that just puts him at the perfect angle to see that "ring" and holy fucking shit he can't, goddammit, Dave, what kind of idiot gives their moirail a Happiny Meal toy as a wedding ring? To say nothing of the fact that it's completely the wrong quadrant—
His smile flickers, but he doesn't pull his hand away even if he really fucking should. Instead, he traps Dave's carefully between his own and oh fuck, oh no, oh shit, abort. Hahaha, what is this, it clearly isn't happening, that's what!]
When did we get a private island? And yeah, you'd be—fucking radiant.
[....................................................................................................
HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT HE HATES PAST KARKAT oh god oh god oh god is there a way to salvage this?? What the fuck does he say, can he say anything??]
I mean, that's what all brides want to hear on their wedding day, right?
[HAHAHAHAHAHAHA SOMEONE PLEASE KILL HIM.]
no subject
--I mean, I prefer the phrase "booty rockalicious," but sure, if the traditional language does it for you, I'm not gonna complain about a little physical affirmation in my last hour of blushing maidenhood.
[Hah! Nailed it. He is the Savior of the Awkward Assholes, it's him. Dave flops over onto his back to spare them both having to look at each other, because he is nothing if not a benevolent god.]
Anyway, our private island's a wedding present from Jade, while John's the one who donated the snacks and movies. Rose'll give us an eldritch kraken to put in our moat but she'll forget to train it, so we housebreak it with a Baby's First Puppy guide and every day you come back from your grueling job at the factory, it makes happy noises and licks your face with a tentacle.
[Dave illustrates everything with his hands, and at the last bit, he just reaches up and boops Karkat's face. Boop.]
no subject
... And, even if Dave isn't blushing, a certain former troll is probably blushing enough for the both of them. Fortunately, he has greasy fried food stuff in his face to hide it.
Oddly, he hadn't anticipated the boop.]
Dave, what the fuck.
[His tone is flat, but despite how tempting it is to turn and look at Dave, he's feeling pretty happy with the minor distance he'd retreated when Dave had lain back again, just because he'd needed that additional buffer. Hahahahaaldksgfjhdgj he is not having... he's having nothing. Hypothetically nothing is taking place here because he absolutely wouldn't be considering anything other than perfect pale propriety toward his moirail, because that's how quadrants work. He knows how quadrants work, he is a romance savant.
He fidgets with a fry, then shoves it down his meal tunnel. Gosh these sure are delicious.]
You want a horrorterror as a pet. And... wait, why the fuck am I working at a factory? What factory? Why aren't you working?
[Yes, he's actually getting a little engaged in this imaginary scenario that is totally unrelated to the nonexistent one previously mentioned. Haha, engaged. Haha. Ha. Fuck, maybe he's imagining it? Again. That other time was clearly a fluke, right, so—fuck, no, he's not thinking about that right now, tell him more about this space kraken they're going to use as some unnecessarily elaborate bouncer for their equally extravagant mansion.]
no subject
[Shrug!]
Anyway, I didn't say I don't work, but someone's gotta look after the wigglers.
[As he tucks his arm under his head as an extra pillow, though, Dave realizes he doesn't actually have a fucking clue what he would do, if he'd had the opportunity to grow up. He hesitates, trying to remember what he used to want to be. He has to have had some dream, right?]
Huh. I guess I...go back to doing SBaHJ? Keeping the frothing public satiated, handling all the merchandising...start my blog up again, maybe.
[That sounds...not very fulfilling, actually. Quick, go back to bullshit.]
Eh, I dunno, actually three entire kids might keep me pretty busy. Are you prepared to sustain me in the lifestyle to which I'm accustomed, dude? The taxes on our island are probably fucking horrendous.
no subject
You mean the studio? And what the fuck, I thought you were kidding about the wigglers.
[Joking about joking about the wigglers. Yes. This makes sense. Also, don't think he didn't notice that redirect, Strider, he is way too familiar with your bullshit for that.]
Trolls aren't... I mean. [Fuck is this not a safe topic. Uh—] Wigglers or human babies? You've said both.
[Nice save. Not. Time to shove a chicken nugget in his talk blaster and chew angrily because argh ugh blargh, fuck everything.]
You could still get a job, don't even try that shit. Gl'bgolyb did all right with Feferi, so—
[Yes he is suggesting that this eldritch kraken play babysitter so they can both work. What? It makes total sense.]
no subject
[He thinks about it, because a hybrid wiggler-baby (a wiggly? a bageler?) mostly just sounds kind of horrifying, but then he lights the fuck up.]
A baby Mayor. Shit, that would be the most adorable dopeness!
[Baby Mayor in a baby carrier. Baby Mayor in a stroller. Baby Mayor sleeping all curled up under a baby mobile version of the Incipisphere, covered in a soft blanket patterned with cans. HE WANTS A BABY MAYOR RIGHT TF NOW.]
As if I could bear to leave the Bayor to slave away at a desk gig like some kind of standard corporate peon. I got the right coloring to be a lusus, anyway, maybe this is just my calling and you didn't know it.
[Stay-at-home dad Dave Strider. You heard it here first.]