[Oh no, no, stop that, that shit turns Dave to goo and he can't hide it when everything he's feeling gets broadcast like he's National Public Radio. It's a weird enough sensation without sharing it, like an accidental brush somewhere tender, somewhere that's still not used to touch, like a tickle on his heart.
(Okay, that was gay.)
He curls Wart's tiny fingers around Karkat-Dirk's and wills the blushing schoolgirl feelings far, far away, please. Please, he's gotta get through this somehow.]
Why must you ruin an awesome verbal riff by insisting on literal interpretation.
[A heavy, put-upon mental sigh. And an audible one, too, for good measure.]
No, Karkat, I don't own shorts. Shorts are for weenie children and John. Do I look like John to you. No.
action + psychic I/O
(Okay, that was gay.)
He curls Wart's tiny fingers around Karkat-Dirk's and wills the blushing schoolgirl feelings far, far away, please. Please, he's gotta get through this somehow.]
Why must you ruin an awesome verbal riff by insisting on literal interpretation.
[A heavy, put-upon mental sigh. And an audible one, too, for good measure.]
No, Karkat, I don't own shorts. Shorts are for weenie children and John. Do I look like John to you. No.