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- Homestuck (2)
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Summary
If there’s one thing Karkat hates to see during a Saturday night dinner rush, it’s Dave Strider’s ugly mug making its way into his kitchen.
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“Hey, I'm home!" Dave called out, carefully setting down the black case that housed all his mixing supplies before recklessly slinging his ratty messenger bag onto the coat hook beside their front door.
He heard grumbling from the kitchen, and that's when the sweet smell wafting through the apartment hit him.
His feet moved on their own towards the kitchen, and he would’ve kept going if Karkat hadn’t come barreling out, arms outstretched to corral Dave towards his bedroom.
“Nope, absolutely not! Sit in your room until I tell you to come out.”
“But–” Dave tried.
“No!”
Recent bookmarks
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Summary
He jams his big ugly headphones over your ears and presses a button softly on his tableturns or whatever the fuck and you are suddenly immersed in a rhythm that reminds you of both a heartbeat and the ocean, rolling and making it feel like you can’t breathe quite right. You hear something sharp and snapping like beads landing on a metal table and you wonder what he alchemized to accomplish that.
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Rose closes the passenger side door and immediately turns to you. "You know, Dave, there are better ways to get a crush's attention than vandalizing his property."
Dave takes up a new hobby and somehow accidentally targets Karkat, much to both their dismay.
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The Customer is Always Shit by mintboy (orphan_account) for KittyMotor
Fandoms: Homestuck
06 Aug 2018
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Summary
Karkat works customer service at IKEA, and some asshole has been sleeping in the display beds all week. Shit ensues, as always.
For my boyfriend.
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Encounters with Karkat and Dave. Three encounters, to be specific.
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Karkat paints Dave's nails.
"How about this one?" You hold up a bottle of painfully bright yellow polish, grinning at him. "Maybe with some red and blue. Sollux'd love it. "
"Sollux doesn't give a shit about what my claws look like, and you know it." He rolls his eyes, tossing the paper towel he's been working on his nails with down and leaning over to take the bottle out of your hand. "How about this—I paint mine this color, and you let me do yours?"

