I just have a lot of gamkar feels ok
i feel your feels /whhfuhfhuff
mercurialMalcontent
Taking everything too seriously since 1979
why the fuck do you even bother anyways
(via yummytomatoes)
transcendentthorn reblogged your post: Karkat: Worry. (3/4)
child whose puppy…god. jfc luka why)[RainbowBarnacle and MercurialMalcontent did this one entirely on their own. The feels are their fault, LET’S GET ‘EM!]
(JFC RAINBOWBARNACLE AND MERCURIALMALCONTENT WHY)
I feed on the tears of innocents. I’m sorry, I thought that was obvious?
CUDDLING IS NOT COOL DAVE
Didn’t you get the memo bro? Jegus
O-oh my god that Karkat
(via jumpingjacktrash)
I Am the Very Model of a Profligate Pornographer
Flawless. <3
Update:
Pfft hahaha wtg uu, ruin your own dramatic speech! You ALMOST sounded genuinely scary and non-ridiculous for a moment there.
There is something deeply wrong with their Incipisphere, though. o__________o
some days, I call my arms wings while my head is in the clouds
it will take me a few more years to learn
flying
is not pushing away the ground
d a n g
(Source: seventeenkindsofawesome, via mulattafury)
“The spoon actually has its own story.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I slip spoons in people’s pockets. I’ve done it thousands of times. It’s like pickpocketing, but the opposite. It’s a very special skill.”*
*The best part of this story is that Meg Ryan walked by in the middle of the conversation. I quickly asked for her photo, but she turned me down. I wasn’t too concerned though, because I knew she’d only have been half as popular as Spoon Guy.
mom. roof. now. bring golf balls.
It is five minutes and seventeen seconds before your alarm is set to go off and you wake up by falling off of the bed. You curse only thrice—it’s not even seven yet; your foulest language is saved for after breakfast, when you can really use it, use it right— and roll onto your back, coming out of the sleep spell squinty-eyed to a ring of white light. The sun has wrapped itself around the observatory window and is trying to break in and burn you to a crisp, but your eyes adapt and you sit up and roll your shoulder (gonna be sore tomorrow, thanks a lot floor), stretch your back, stretch your legs. You stand up and stretch everything. Twisting and popping and groaning, shaking out the just-woke-up weakness in your fingers. You kill the alarm before it has a chance to live (which means you’re good today, you’re great, that’s the indicator; if you are woken by synthesizers and the words sometimes I feel I’ve got to, then somebody phone the president, the natural order has been jeopardized), and down the rest of your bedside cup of water. You are young and you are awake. You are young and you are starving.
#(pretty sure i got dave lalonde totally wrong though)
Vulturer, I am pretty sure you got Dave Lalonde totally right. The only other incarnation I’ve seen of him tried to make him Rose but fifteen times more pretentious AND with Eridan’s melodramatic swooning and it was kind of terrible and not recognizably Dave at all. This? This is Dave.
Fic Rec: Signs and Portents
Pairing: none
Rating: teen and up
Warnings: none
Original Summary: “Karkat thought he knew what he was getting into, when he agreed to help Kanaya and Jade resurrect the troll race. He didn’t count on the resurrected troll race including a handful of bright red grubs.”
Why You Should Read This: This is gen of utmost quality. It’s wonderfully in character, softly and carefully written, and charmingly practical with the methods that are used to sort and care for new grubs. It has this really amazing balance between the heavy theme of resurrecting a race and the silly, day-to-day interactions between Jade, Kanaya, and Karkat. It has an “angst” tag, but it’s really good angst; not overly dramatic, and it has this weird feeling of like… a happy ending I guess? It’s that kind of angst that reaches back around to become something wonderful (bluh, how do I words). I just love the quietness of this fic. So lovely!
Excerpt: GA: I Have To Go
GA: We Need Your Assistance Right Away
GA: Five Minutes
GA: You Will Comb Your Hair I Hope
CG: WHAT’S UP, ANYWAY?
GA: I Do Not Have Time To Explain At Length
GA: In A Word
GA: !grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased texting carcinoGeneticist [CG]
Well, fuck.
You groan, and haul yourself up.
Four minutes and fifty-five seconds later, you’ve towelled yourself off, scrubbed away your slugbreath, and jammed on a pair of faded old jeans. You can’t find a clean shirt, and your hair is a sticky plaguebeast nest, but Jade Harley waits for no man — at least, not ones named Karkat Vantas — and so Kanaya is going to have to forget about combed hair and be happy with the fact that you have accomplished pants.
Your five minutes are up.
This is so good.
