Chapter Text
You have, somehow, despite all your best efforts to prevent yourself from getting distracted from your work, ended up on Tumblr just in time to receive one of the most pan-numbingly stupid fucking asks you’ve ever received in your life.
And you’ve received a lot of fucking stupid asks on Tumblr.
Many of them being from the idiot you're currently dating. In fact, you’re certain, based on what this current anonymous asker has sent you, that one of Dove’s old asks is what caused this person to message you in the first place.
You go look at the post the ask refers to, and yes, you were right. The post is an ask that Dove sent to you, on your old, now deactivated Tumblr.
This isn’t the first time this has happened. You and Dove have been on this site for far too long, and despite your account getting deactivated and you moving to a new handle a few years ago, the ridiculously dumb shit you two used to get up to is still there for anyone to see and continue to spread around the site.
Instead of responding to the message, you delete it. You’re proud of yourself for not rising to the bait for two whole seconds before you see that Dove also got an ask about the same thing. Unlike you, she clearly replied to it, based on the fact that it is now adorning the top of your dash.
You should probably go give her shit for responding to it because you know she is supposed to be working on her music right now.
You should also probably just get off Tumblr. Permanently. Instead, you smash your keyboard a bit too violently as you click on the text post button.
It’s a lot more succinct than you would normally be, but you have other shit to do and you’ve literally made this same exact post fifty other times.
You hear Dove’s laughter nearly the instant you press “post now” and bless the world with the latest of your ill-conceived attempts to make the rest of Tumblr ignore the absolute hoofbeastshit you used to get up to on the site.
“Should make that a pinned post,” Dove calls from the living room. “It’ll get lost the next time you go on a sleep-deprived posting spree.”
She’s right. You keep forgetting you can do that. Your past attempts at getting people to stop bringing up nonsense your teenage self posted do always get lost as soon as you realize that you’re not getting to sleep any time soon and you might as well just keep doomscrolling and reblogging.
You pin the post, then press your husktop shut. “Stop laughing at me,” you tell Dove as you walk into the living room.
She does stop laughing at you, though a shit-eating grin remains on her face. Once you get close enough, Dove sets her own laptop on your coffee table and pulls at your arm until you fall into her lap. Dove happily wraps her arms around you as you shift to get more comfortable.
“Why are you even on Tumblr?” you ask her. “I thought you had work to do and instead you’re out here responding to garbage that you should be ignoring.”
“Thought you did as well,” she counters. “Is rescinding callout posts part of your job now? What client asked you to do that?”
“Apparently I’m not allowed to reblog your photos anymore because in 2009 you called some asshole known as 'KnightOfBlood' a 'dumb gay loser'.”
“I actually told some super cute emo kid known as 'xxKnightOfBloodxx' that they were a dumb gay loser, if I recall correctly. You can’t forget those X’s. They’re a vital part of the username. Never met a ‘KnightOfBlood’ without the X’s in my entire life.”
“I try incredibly hard to forget them, and you know that.”
“Baby Karkat and her silly username were cute, okay? Even if Baby Me was a fucking dick about it.”
“You were a dick, but that doesn’t make the username any less terrible.”
“We can’t all come up with bangers, I guess.”
“Your username is not a banger. Might make things easier for Current Karkat if you didn’t still have the same one you’ve always had, you know. I don’t know how you’ve managed to have that thing since 2009 without changing it.”
Dove seems to consider that for a moment. “Naw. Every time I make a sideblog people just figure out it’s me anyway.”
“Because you are absolutely horrid at hiding your identity.”
“Why hide it when I can flirt with you from ten million different accounts instead? You know you love all the attention.”
“I very much do not. You’re insufferable.”
“You love me anyway.”
You groan and roll your eyes, but feel the need to add, “Fortunately for you, yeah,” anyway. Just in case that wasn’t already obvious.
Dove grins at you, then leans in and kisses your nose. “Very fortunate for me. I’m starting to think I might be the dumb gay loser here, actually.”
“We’re both dumb gay losers and you know it. Now let me up, we both need to get back to work.”
You try to shift and get off of Dove’s lap but she wraps her arms tighter around your waist and whines in the most obnoxious way possible. “But I don’t want to.”
“Tough shit.”
Dove “hmms” and starts peppering kisses all over your face. While you can admit that, yes, this is honestly much better than what you’re supposed to be doing, and you’re incredibly tempted to just let her have her way, you… actually, no, you can’t quite convince yourself to get up and go back to work.
“Fine,” you say once Dove’s hand starts sliding up the back of your shirt. “But you’re the one who has to listen to me complain when I’m rushing to meet my deadlines later.”
“I’m always the one listening to you complain about that whether it’s my fault or not.”
“It usually is your fault.”
“Kissing now, complaining later, okay?”
You could argue with that, but well. You don’t actually want to.