#these little guys are so. AH.

[peninkwrites]

Before: Karl and Quackity (don't) Date - Ch 3 of ?

Karl and Quackity go see a movie. Karl learns some things.

(CW: abuse, Schlatt.)

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 4

The Mafia AU

~

Karl calls Q first.  “Hello?”

“Hey, Q!  It’s Karl,” Karl paces his one room, twirling the cord through his fingers.  “I was wondering if… if you’d be free tonight?  I was thinking we could go see a movie?  I dunno how much you keep up with that stuff, but you ever heard of Monty Python?  It’s really fun.  I’ll… I’ll buy the popcorn?”

There’s only static over the line and Karl feels absolutely jittery.

“Um.  Yeah.  I can… I could go tonight.  Is it cool if we go to a theater across the river?  Do you know the one around Kings Park?”

“Across… yeah!  Yeah, sure.  I know it.  That’s cool,” Karl has no idea if it would be more expensive over there.  He doesn’t see why.  “Meet you there at like seven?”

“Okay, great.  Yeah– Yes, I’ll meet you there,” a weighted pause.  “And if… if I don’t show, don’t take it personally, alright?  Didn’t mean I didn’t want to come.”

“Oh,” Karl hopes he doesn’t sound too surprised.  “Okay.  Uh.  Well.  Hope I see you there..?”

“Okay, good.  Yeah, uh.  Me too.  Goodbye, Karl.”

“Bye, Q!” The phone clicks as he hangs up.  “Yes!” Karl punches the air, falling back onto his bed and kicking his feet.  “Okay, okay good.  You just gotta… gotta get there.”

Karl agreed to go to a theater across the river.  He does not have a car.  If he’s meeting Q at seven, he’d better start walking.

Quackity has his own troubles getting to Karl.  Schlatt hadn’t explicitly asked him to go to his place tonight, but Quackity doesn’t know if he can get away with several hours out of contact.  Last time he’d stormed off, Schlatt could easily assume he’d gone home and felt miserable alone, he’d let Quackity get away with just an apology because it had been their anniversary apparently.  The first time, Schlatt had known he was going to the police station, so that extra hour hadn’t been enough to raise suspicion.  Quackity needs an excuse if he gets back and Schlatt’s boys are waiting, saying Schlatt had been trying to get ahold of him.

Ask forgiveness or permission, huh?

Permission, Schlatt could just say no.  Obviously his request would be a lie, going out with classmates, something boring, with people he’d already established with Schlatt that he hated.  He’d already warned Karl it was a possibility, him not showing up, but he wanted this.  He didn’t want Schlatt to decide for him and to spend the rest of the night with him thinking about the other way it could have gone.  But forgiveness… forgiveness could get ugly.  Schlatt gets really impatient, Quackity comes home and gets dragged to his place, Schlatt asks where he was, that old lie of “I fell asleep at the library,” had stopped working when Schlatt had asked which library and had started calling him there, not that Quackity had known that until he’d seen Schlatt next and he’d asked him why the library clerk hadn’t been able to find him when he called, “didn’t think you were a heavy sleeper, huh?”   That had gotten ugly.

So maybe Quackity says something innocuous like “oh, some boring dinner with a professor, the whole class was there, it would’ve looked bad if I hadn’t gone.  I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you, I almost forgot about it at all.” some nice, desperate groveling.  But he still pays for it.  Quackity needs to decide if going through with this, if he’ll be able to hold onto that, whatever happens when he comes back to Schlatt.

It’s a fucking movie.  You should be able to go see a fucking movie without being this scared.

With something almost vengeful, Quackity grabs his keys.

He parks down the street from the theater.  Quackity spends too much time on the West side.  That’s where the University actually is, the housing he’d ended up living in because it was cheap and closer to Schlatt is off campus, but again, he has a car.  Maybe he should feel safer this side of the river, Schlatt doesn’t have any power here, but it’s all so fucking uptight and fancy and the cops act like they own the place.  Quackity can blend in relatively well.  He owns a few suits, he can name the fancy law school he’s attending, but that only holds up in conversation with these people until they ask him what do your parents do for a living?  He’s meant to be a lawyer.  He’s good at fighting with his words, especially with the fucking idiots in charge over here.

Quackity stands outside the theater, it’s much bigger than any of the ones on the East side, newer.  He feels agitated.  What if Karl had already gone inside?  It’s after seven.

“Q!” Karl shouts his name, drawing many looks.

“Jesus Christ– Karl, don’t–” Quackity puts a hand over his chest.  “Don’t scare me like that–”

“Sorry!  Sorry, I didn’t want you to think I didn’t show,” Karl says breathlessly.

Quackity stares at him.  “You walked here?”

“Uh, yeah.  I don’t have a car.”

“There’s– You could’ve gotten a cab, or–”

“No!  No, it’s fine, really–”

“I could’ve picked you up, man, what if you’d shown up here and I hadn’t been able to come?” Quackity frowns.

Karl shrugs.  “I dunno.  Don’t worry about it, okay?  I made it, and so did you!  It’s only like, ten after, we probably just missed the previews, come on,” Karl grabs his hand and heads up to the booth.

Quackity feels startled, staring at Karl’s hand holding onto his.  He doesn’t pull away.  The movie is good.  Karl looking at Quackity every time he laughs is better.

“So?” They leave the theater, and Karl is looking at him too hopefully.

“So, what?”

“Did you like it?”

“Oh, oh, yeah.  I did,” Quackity nods.

Karl smiles at him and Quackity feels honored.  “Okay, okay good!  Did you know coconuts do migrate?”

“What?” Quackity laughs.

“Yeah!  Yeah, they float between islands!  That’s migrating!” Karl says excitedly.

“I mean, I guess?!”

“What’d you mean guess?  It’s a fact!” Karl grins.  “Hey– Hey, d’you want to head over to Kings Park?  It’s still early and I am so sick of sitting still now.”

“Uh,” Quackity glances down at his watch.  It’s almost 9.  The sun hasn’t even set all the way yet.  He should leave.  He doesn’t want to.  “Yeah, yeah sure.”

“Okay, okay cool!” Karl goes skipping ahead to the park across the street, Quackity following more slowly, hands buried in his pockets.  It’s cooler now, the summer days punishing, but this is easier.  He doesn’t know how Karl keeps that coat on.  No wonder he gets stopped by the cops, wearing a coat right now is bound to look shady,

Karl hops up onto the low stone wall circling the park, walking along it with careful balance.

“Careful, dude you’re gonna fall on your ass,” Quackity doesn’t know why he feels worried for him as he tilts dangerously.

“Nope!” Karl says brightly.  “If you’re nervous why don’t you come over here?” Karl waves his hand, offering it to him.

Quackity hesitates only for a moment.  He takes it, letting Karl use him for balance as he continues to walk along the wall.  Quackity looks up at him, face too soft, too young, as he stares at his footsteps with utter concentration, lit by the shop windows across the street, he glows.  Quackity’s chest aches, bittersweet, as he marvels at something surely not meant for him.

“You gonna catch me?”

“Why would I have to c–”

Quackity’s yearning is replaced by panic as Karl almost falls on top of him, Quackity grabbing his waist out of panicked instinct and helping him back onto even ground.

“What the fuck– you can’t just drop in on me like that,” Quackity says flusteredly, quick to let go, even as he’s holding back a laugh.

“Aw but you did such a good job!” Karl smiles goofily.

“A little more warning next time,” Quackity tries to scold him, but he’s smiling too, even with those words, next time, echoing in the back of his head.  “Hey, uh, I just… I just want to apologize again.  For the other day.  Me calling you like that, it wasn’t cool–”

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Karl sounds too sincere.

Quackity laughs nervously, “uh, well, it’s not something I normally do or was planning on doing, and was kind of a shit second impression, so, just let me say it, okay?”

“Okay, I mean.  Yeah, you can say what you want, but you don’t have to,” Karl shrugs, sauntering deeper into the park, Quackity close behind him.  Karl runs ahead up to the bridge over an artificial pond.

He turns around, planting himself in the middle of the bridge and holding out a hand to block Quackity’s path.  “Stop!  Who would cross the bridge must answer me these questions three, uh,” Karl fumbles for the rest of the line, “if the other side to see?”

Quackity laughs, “really?  I mean, I’m not really on a quest for the holy grail, am I?  It’s a public park.”

“No,” Karl shakes his head.  “That’s the rule!  You gotta answer my questions, or I won’t let you across.”

“Okay, fine, go on, what’d you got?  The capital of Newfoundland or something?”

“What is…” A weighted, well measured pause.  “Your name?”

Quackity immediately falters.  Karl is still lighthearted, he doesn’t mean anything by it and Quackity doesn’t have to answer, but it’s not fucking fair that just answering honestly feels dangerous.

“Um, do you want to phone a friend?” Karl whispers.  “I can give you the first and last letter.”  The pause continues.  “And all the letters in between, I guess, Technically.”

“Quackity.”

“What?”

“My name.  It’s Quackity.”

Karl looks surprised for a moment.  “Oh!”  He doesn’t seem to know what to do now.  “Do you… do you want me to call you that, or Q?”

Quackity shrugs.  “Either works.”

“Okay, cool.  Guess I couldn’t have told you all the letters, then,” Karl is staring at him, eyes too wide, too earnest.  Everything about Karl feels like too much.  He’s too kind, too attentive, too fun to be around.

“Do I get to cross the bridge now?” Quackity teases.

“It’s three questions.  Unless you wanna fight your way across,” Karl raises his fists, giving a few fumbling jabs at the air.

“Shit, dude, has no one ever taught you how to throw a punch?  Or are you kidding right now?” Quackity is almost amazed by his clumsiness.

“Um, I’m supposed to ask the questions, actually,” Karl says pompously.  “And why do you think I’d know how to throw a punch?  In what situation?”

“Dude, you’re– You’re running around the city with a bunch of expensive shit in your jacket,” Quackity says exasperatedly.  “Do you at least carry a knife?”

“No?  The cops have enough to fine me for when they pick me up without adding a knife to things,” Karl scoffs.

“Fuck, man.  You’re hopeless,” Quackity sighs.  “Come’re,” he nods Karl in front of him.  “Show me what you just did again.”  Quackity winces.  “Okay, now try like this,” Quackity slowly demonstrates, “turn your wrist and move forward as you do it.”

Karl watches him carefully, making a hesitant attempt.

“Let me,” Quackity steps up behind him, his hand covering Karl’s, curving his fist for him.  Karl glances back at him over his shoulder, looking almost mesmerized, his cheeks are dusted pink, but maybe they always are.  Quackity is suddenly aware of Karl against his chest, their faces inches apart.  He steps back.  “Like… like that,” he doesn’t look at Karl’s face now.  

“Cool,” Karl’s voice comes out a little hoarse.  He clears his throat.  “I’ll be a boxing champ before you know it.”

Quackity laughs dryly.  “Uh, it’s getting late, I should… I should probably go,” he shifts from foot to foot.

“Yeah!  Yeah, for sure.  This was really fun, dude.”

“Yeah, uh.  I mean, d’you want a ride home?” Quackity offers.

Karl is still especially smiley.  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

They’re quieter on the drive over.  Quackity parks outside Karl’s building, but Karl doesn’t get out just yet.

“You could come up, if you wanted.  Not for…” Karl pauses.  “Just to like, keep talking…”

“I, uh.  I gotta get going,” Quackity says it like an apology.

“Okay,” Karl nods, getting out.  “But… you have my number, and I have yours, right?  I’ll call you.  Or you’ll call me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Karl gives him another smile, too soft, too gentle, why is he so gentle?  “Good night, Quackity.”

Quackity feels a shiver run up his spine.  Quackity.  “Good night, Karl.”

Quackity drives home feeling this irritating mixture of content and uneasy.  He had fun tonight.  More fun than he’s had in a long time.  It also feels wrong.  He hadn’t kissed Karl tonight, but he’d stood so close to him, he’d held his hand, and somehow that almost feels worse.  Before Quackity can make up his mind, to be happy for himself or not, he finds he doesn’t have have a choice.  Three unpleasantly familiar faces have made camp outside of his building, smoking and talking amongst themselves until one of them points out Quackity’s car.  Quackity could leave.  He could fucking reverse out of here and make himself Karl’s problem for the night.  He has no right to do that.  Quackity parks the car.  Schlatt’s boys don’t come closer, they wait.  They know he’s not stupid enough to run.  Quackity no longer needs to worry himself with his conflicting emotions, instead it is easily drowned out by dread.

~

It’s been a few days and Karl doesn’t really know what to make of… whatever the past few days had been.  Quackity is entitled to his secrets, it’s not like Karl is squeaky clean.  He had called Quackity again, another flatmate had answered, shortly said “he’s not here.”

Karl had asked him to take a message, the response had been irritable and dismissive.

“I’ll do it, but he probably won’t be back to see it for a few days,” and hung up.  So he’ll give it a few more days.

Karl keeps himself busy.  He is good at his job, better than most, but half his profits go to his debts, and what remains gets divided between the cheap rent he gets staying in a one room apartment the size of a generous closet and scrounging enough together for food.  Karl is getting more tempted to give up on paying rent and take up Tina’s offer of her couch.

Karl has also, annoyingly, had to move street corners.  A cop had been watching him all morning.  Here he is, in a new part of the city he’s not used to working, feeling irritated that last week he had to cough up all of that day’s earnings to keep out of jail.  That had set him back enough to warrant a breakdown.  Although apparently not enough for him not to waste most of his food budget on buying a pizza for the drunk guy who had called him out of nowhere.

Karl had been called sweet before, less often had he been called cautious.

He sees a couple of guys in suits out of the corner of his eye and turns toward them.  Then he sees a familiar face.  “Oh hey Q–!”

Quackity’s eyes widen, he looks horrified, quickly shaking his head.

“...Uh,” Karl doesn’t know what to do now.  The man beside Quackity turns to face him.

“This guy bothering you, sugar?” He puts his arm around Quackity’s waist, pulling him close.  He’s older.  Probably in his 30s.  His voice is rough and unfriendly, his mutton chops add to the aggressive energy he exudes.  He gives Karl a once over, scathing and unimpressed.

“C-Can I help you?” Quackity’s words come out almost disinterested, if not a bit hoarse, as he still stares at Karl, begging him for something, or rather begging him for nothing, begging him to say nothing, to do nothing, to get out now.

Karl is distracted from Quackity’s pleading gaze by a ring of purple around his neck, so blatant that Karl can see where his thumbs dug into Quackity’s throat.  He looks between Quackity and the stranger and feels nauseous.

“The fuck do you want?” The man sneers.

“Um,” Karl is trying so hard to think.  He doesn’t know what he’s meant to do, or how to help.  So he goes with his default.  “...d’you wanna buy a watch?”

The man laughs, harsh and loud.  Karl sees Quackity flinch.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Um. No?”

The man still only looks amused.  He smirks.  “Sure you don’t recognize the name JSchlatt?”

Karl pales, feeling as if he’d skipped a step going down the stairs.  “…oh god.”

Schlatt laughs again and Karl isn’t sure why but he feels humiliated, he thinks, fleetingly, that Quackity might too from the way he’s staring at the ground.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’ll let you go this time just for the fuckin’ look on your face, but next time be careful who you try selling to,” Schlatt pulls Quackity in closer, keeping him literally pinned to his side, “you never know who they might belong to.”

Quackity doesn’t say anything, staring at the cracked concrete like a puzzle he’s struggling to solve.  He lets Schlatt press a messy kiss against his temple.

“Right.” Karl feels frozen, he’s staring at Schlatt’s hand on Quackity’s waist, the way his fingertips dig in.  “Sorry.”

“Okay now get the fuck outta here.”

Karl is frozen for another moment.  He thinks about how Quackity had showed him how to throw a punch.  He turns and leaves.

Karl doesn’t know where he is going.  He doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what he’s supposed to do, but now he understands what “taken, sort of,” means.  It means one of the most dangerous men in the city has him in an apparently literal stranglehold.

Karl also now understands “get shot hurt.”

That fact echoing in the back of his head is the only thing stopping him from turning back around and telling Quackity, “please come home with me, and don’t ever leave,” even if he barely knows the guy.  Somehow the more he learns about him, the less he feels like he actually understands.

How did Quackity end up dating JSchlatt?  Quackity is surely his age, early 20s, and Schlatt is definitely not that.

Quackity had called him, drunk and desperate.  Karl had arrived and it had taken minutes for Quackity first try to kiss him and ended up crying not soon after.  That, combined with the smug face he’d seen today, almost scared him more than the bruises.  The bruises really scared him, though.  Karl doesn’t know what to do.  So he goes home, and he waits for a phone call.  He falls asleep still waiting, and the following morning has to decide if he’s going to try and earn some money today or keep waiting for a phone call that might not come.  He didn’t have a bunch of roommates to irritatedly take a message for him.  So Karl leaves, and hopes he doesn’t miss it.

Quackity isn’t planning on calling Karl, and he certainly isn’t expecting a call from him first.  He’d ruined it.  Ruined something he shouldn’t have had in the first place, as if he’d ever had it at all.  It had been a pipe dream, a stupid, fleeting choice that had been doomed to blow up in both of their faces.  This is better, surely.  Quackity would let Karl fade from his mind, if only remembered for the brief horror at the sight of him accompanied by Schlatt.  Quackity had done his best not to look at him, but he still saw, of course he fucking saw Karl staring at Schlatt’s hand on his hip like it was something dead or monstrous.

It was humiliating.

Quackity hadn’t planned on leaving the house at all that day.  He’d been stuck at Schlatt’s since he’d been dragged there after his date– not a date, his whatever– with Karl.  Whether or not Schlatt had believed his excuse of some boring dinner with his class was irrelevant.  Quackity had still paid for it.  He’d called his professors and said he’d come down with something, his ragged voice was more than enough to convince them.  So he’d stayed at the house, tiptoeing around Schlatt and trying to get back in his good graces.

Tubbo, the only other person to talk to in that house, had avoided him like the plague, like Quackity’s ability to incur Schlatt’s wrath might rub off on him.  Still, even if Tubbo wasn’t much for conversation or company, he was still something.  The boy moved silently through the house with well-practiced precision, the closest thing to an interaction the two of them had had was Tubbo padding into the kitchen at the same time as him the morning after the worst of it.  He’d gone to the cabinet at the right of the sink, had placed a bottle of aspirin in front of where Quackity sat at the counter, head in his hands, coffee going cold in front of him.  He’d left the room before Quackity had even noticed it.

Schlatt had been perfectly civil most of the time, but there was still that edge of warning that made it painful for Quackity to swallow, for more reason than one.

Schlatt had said, “let’s go out.  You’re turning into a fucking shut in, d’you know that?” despite being the primary reason Quackity was waiting for permission to leave the house.

Quackity hadn’t wanted to.  The bruises weren’t yet faded.  It was summer, he couldn’t get away with a scarf.  But who is there to run into on the East side?  All of his colleagues would be on campus across the river.  And of-fucking-course out of all the people to see, it had to be Karl.

“What a pathetic lookin’ guy.  Did you see the look on his fucking face?  Thought he was gonna piss himself when I said my name,” Schlatt laughs, arm still around him, still digging in enough to bruise.  Maybe his behavior is just overprotective, more like territorial.

“Yeah,” Quackity replies as he’s expected to.  He almost wants to turn back and see if Karl is still in his line of sight.  He doesn’t dare.  You ruined it, HQ.  Because of course you did.  It wasn’t yours to fucking ruin anyway.  Quackity is swallowed by shame.  He doesn't know when he became this passive in his own captivity.

“Why’ve you been so mopey lately, babe?” Schlatt responds to his reservations with patronization.  Schlatt hasn’t taken his hands off of him since they left the house.

They’re in public.  Quackity knows no one can really stop Schlatt, if they tried, again, all it took was Schlatt’s name and they’d leave him to it, but maybe it just makes him a little bolder to think there would be witnesses.

“I dunno, maybe I’m just a little sullen, ‘cause you fucking choked me out for not telling you exactly where I was 24 hours a day?” Quackity snaps, pulling away from Schlatt’s hold on him.

Schlatt holds on tighter before he can break free, arm wrapping around Quackity’s ribs and squeezing like he’s trying to crush the life out of him, he leans in close, his beard scratching Quackity’s neck as he whispers through gritted teeth, “maybe I wouldn’t have to choke you out if you remembered your place, eh?”

Quackity remains rigid as a board, not deigning to retort when Schlatt seemed already close to cracking a rib.

“Huh?” Schlatt goads him to snap back.  Quackity refuses, refusing to even flinch when Schlatt jostles him like he’s a rag doll.  Schlatt still takes too much satisfaction in his silence.  “That’s what I fucking thought.  You’re my bitch.”

Quackity is furious.  All he can think of is the look on Karl’s face, even as Quackity had tried to ignore it, when Schlatt had said he belonged to him.

“No, I’m– No, I’m done for today,” Quackity, with a sudden burst of fight, squirms free of Schlatt’s hold, stomping on his foot a one point, and pushing Schlatt hard enough that he almost stumbles, just to get him to let go.

“Done with fucking what?!” Schlatt snarls, grabbing onto Quackity’s wrist with a vice-like hold.  “Don’t you walk away from me!  Were you not listening?”

“No!  No you’re gonna fucking listen to me, Schlatt, you’re pushing too far.  So I am going to go home for today, and I will call you tomorrow, okay?” Quackity twists free.  He knows how to turn his wrist so Schlatt is forced to let go, even if he knows his grip is already going to bruise.

“You don’t decide that shit, you got that?  You’re fucking pathetic– You think you can boss me around?  Maybe if you try lifting a little more, sweetheart, but you’re like a fucking baby bird–” Schlatt makes the mistake of going to grab onto him again.

Quackity snaps.

With expert precision, he swings at Schlatt’s jaw, fist turning with his wrist, just as he’d shown Karl.  Schlatt doesn’t fall.  He does stagger back, leaning against a streetlight to keep his balance.  Quackity doesn’t wait around for Schlatt to return the favor.  Quackity thinks turning and running might be the bravest thing he’s done in the past two years.

[christakisbang]

[theymademesignup08]

Him in this shirt specifically makes me want to squish him like play dough.

[faunandfloraas]

My legs felt weak after I came down from the pitch. I was so nervous that I couldn't actually see anything except the mound but compared to other players, I threw the ball as I had practiced and it went straight down the middle! It felt so good ㅎ Team Korea hwaiting! LA Dodgers hwaiting! Thank you!

[skitskatdacat63]

DTS S6E1 "Money Talks" - Fernando Alonso & Lance Stroll

[feminetomboy]

You all looked at Joui "I made out with a guy and a girl at a party once" Jouki and went "surely he wouldn't do that again"? Like cowards???

---

I know a lot of you "don't go here", but if you like the art, I'm amazingly glad regardless! Fanart is art like any other and if you just think my silly little drawing looks nice, without even knowing the blorbos, that means the world to me <3

[washisart]

A bit of brainrot for this GinHelios AU? Ship? yes. This time is the Golden boy himself.

Gingka's image in me has worn down and changed over time, but I've always had strong impression with his character development in Fusion. Almost literal embodiment of the wind (in my tween/teen's vision). So I imagine his transition from secluded famous mountain guy in Fusion to (almost) be a permanently known icon of the sport in Japan is rough. From country pumpkin to city boy-

Anyway have some low-res GinHelios for now~

[lazysunjade]

I M A G I N E |

tiny glade 2024.

[belligerentbagel]

suffuse

[clockworkclownart]

Day 8 - Style Challenge- #DannyMay2024

LETS GET THAT GHOST!~💚

I read somewhere that Maddie and Jack Fenton's hazmat suits were styled after batman and catwoman without the animal ears, so i reskinned a fantasic cover by mick gray and patrick gleason (see below) and YOU KNOW WHAT?!? they are right.

This cover is amazing and i had alot of fun using the layout and poses to make the above art. obviously credit goes to the above artists for thier fantasic work. i dont know how to draw mucles and i referenced the above image so hard, i refuse to take credit for these good shapes. I feel like ive learned alot during this.

[jevdev-art]

Desires 💫🍴

[freakish-goth]

“The treasure in this mountain does not belong to the people of Laketown. This gold is… ours.”

I’m pretty sure that Thorin says “ours” by meaning him and his kin but the little voice in my head says he means Bilbo.

Bilbo’s honest reaction to that.

[stinkypeanutbutter]

he borrowed Logan’s glasses cause he forget his contacts .

anyway there are too many things I want to DRAW NYOW !!!! All these things red has given us are too mucu for me to not give in and doodle I’m going INSANE !!!!!!! 🤯🤯💥💥

also ——

[skitskatdacat63]

"it was good fun! Surprisingly competitive I would say!"

[catwouthats]

I’m researching all the animals wolverine gets compared to so I can see which ones are most like him and to which degree they are like him.

Bro this shit is fueling headcanons…

His love language is definitely gift giving, but he wouldn’t usually say the gift is from him. It would just appear at the person’s place. Like randomly, his friends get random tiny things, and they have no fucking clue where they come from??? And things they thought they lost appear again?? They must just think they are lucky at first.

[catocappuccino]

Silly-beings