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
[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.]