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Hoarder Nikto or Minimalist König?

both!

thinking..thinking.. thought thunk!

minimalist!konig.. mmmh, könig sees no use for worthless things, he keeps what he needs close and that’s all that matters, it’s what’s worked for the past 30 odd years—why would he change his ways? he’s a simple man, with simple ways. a simple life, kill, eat, sleep, repeat. he doesn’t see an issue with the limited belongings in his house, a tv & sofa in his livingroom, a bed and wardrobe in his bedroom.

it’s like something out of a jail, and when he brings you over for the first time— you have to double check you’re inside a house, looking up at könig as he made you some soup in the kitchen, ginger hair tied up in a messy bun.

‘you don’t decorate?’

‘ nein. i do decorate.’

‘..where? the fucking titanic?’

when u move in, safe to say you add your own sparkle and spice to his once-blank house, although, he’s not pleased.

~

hoarder!nikto… oh, god. this man doesn’t know when to let go, he’s afraid of losing, afraid of letting go despite his adaptation to loss—and that affects his day to day life, he has thousands of letters stuffed in his drawers, receipts tucked into the folds of his wallet, old trinkets rammed into closets and cluttered atop hall-tables, poor sputnik has to jump over a few things sometimes.

it’s not disgusting, he’s not a pig—but it’s not healthy. you come over to his house, lips tangled together as you stumbled through the door, almost tripping over the large collection of boxes that gathered in his doorway, spending the rest of the evening attempting to convince him to rid of items, instead of fucking.

‘what about this, it’s a fucking wooden mouse.’

‘that is rat. kitty likes it.’

‘kto-to can live without a wooden fucking rat, nikto.’

‘we cannot.’

he’ll never change, but all you can do is slowly sell things and hope he never realises, or give them to charity.

‘why the fuck our many clocks gone?’