When D was stressed and couldn’t sleep, he’d swipe Dwayne’s Switch.
Did he have his own? Yes. Did he have Animal Crossing on his own? Also yes. His island was meticulous, with painstakingly copied pixel art (”I can finally draw something!” He had been so happy that no one had the heart to tell him he wasn’t actually drawing if he was copying another’s design) to render Home into a blue sky version of Twilight.
But he liked having a house on Dwayne’s island, tucked away in the corner, away from where most of his infrastructure was located. And he had weird sleep times now, meaning he usually wasn’t bothering Dwayne’s play time by stealing it.
And when Dwayne would get his Switch back (typically from D while asleep on the couch with the twins or in his office drooling over his latest box of books sent from who-knew-where), Dwayne would find his house surrounded by fish, usually sea bass with the occasional rare find thrown in. And bait. So much bait. Because D would spend his hours just patiently combing the beaches for claims, fishing whenever he saw a shadow that looked valuable.
