Necessary? No.

get a grip

[ask-gweaver]

Do you do weddings? As the groom? (It’d be my wedding btw)

Nice try kid. Ain't gonna get married to some brat who hasn't seen half of a century. I'm too old for that.

[ask-gweaver]

Григорий, любовь, Do you think I could be as cool as you one day??

Been a while since someone called me their 'Love'.

But I ain't that cool, just doin my job. Everyone is cool in their own way anyways, it's all about how ya carry it. Head up high and it's already givin some good vibes.

[ask-gweaver]

Mr Weaver, what have you been up to recently? Any new shows or something :>?

- 🍛 (hope you don't mind me using this)

Don't use the Mister...that's just weird. Formalities aren't my thing, kid.

Uhm, to be honest? I enjoyed my time off. Got around, ignored the others, caught up on sleep. Not a big show type of guy.

[ask-gweaver]

OH HOLY SHIT I JUST REALISED YOU REMIND ME OF MAJIMA

Its because of the eyepatch, mostly. :>

Who the fuck is that?

[ask-gweaver]

Here's your doodles mate, enjoy :]

-Weasel💫

That's some fucking talent ya got there! Holy shit!

[ask-gweaver]

Mr Weaver... You're so cool... Do you like mango sticky rice? I made too much ....

- @ask-kittysgt

Uh, thanks?

Fuck yeah, bring it over! Anything ya wanna drink?

[ask-gweaver]

Drawing for eye patch, zombie killing man

(You're cool btw)

Hot damn! That's a mighty fine drawing! Love to see more of your art if you're willing to share.

Also thanks, giving it my best over here. Hard with idiots hopping around me the whole time.

[ask-gweaver]

Ya making it hard to not smack that little head of yours back into place Duckling.

Lovingly of course.

[ask-duckling-n-tooth]

Do they not have humor back there where you're from? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[ask-gweaver]

Lil shit! Ya lucky that Hudson would probably rip me a new one if I'd ever smack the shit outta ya.

[ask-gweaver]

Ya making it hard to not smack that little head of yours back into place Duckling.

Lovingly of course.

[ask-gweaver]

HI GREGORY!

It's Grigori? Ain't one of ya Americans.

...but Hi!

[ask-gweaver]

You know what's really cool about living in a building built BEFORE 1940?

There's no AC, there's probably definitely lead paint and asbestos, and the ceiling occasionally comes down!

Rent's real cheap though, and we've got our own mascot/pet. It's an opossum living in a busted fridge in the basement.

Anyway, I woke up by getting hit with a piece of ceiling, how's your day been??

Your place sounds god damn fucked up kid. No money to get a better one I assume? Thoughts and prayers that the ceiling won't break down completely on ya ass there.

My days have been stressful and I'm convinced that the only friend I have is my fucking couch at this point. I'll thrive in the fact that I'm in a healthy relationship with the cushions.

[ask-gweaver]

Weaver…are you, by any chance, gay?

No, why would I be? I don't like men.

[ask-gweaver]

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

In what way? Sexual, paternal...as in buying like a teddy bear. Be specific here. You kids scare the shit outta me.

[ask-gweaver]

Duckling still felt bad about the other unfortunate meeting he had with Weaver. They hadn't forgotten about that wound in his hand, so, in compensation (and as a "I'm sorry"), they made whatever pastry they thought Weaver would like. What was it? Well, a mix of a brownie and carrot cake.

Still, just to make sure everything was well between them, they sent a message they obviously didn't struggle to write and send, clearly. They didn't even doubt for minutes if even talk to them about this. In the end, they simply wrote:

"heya, made some cake and have some leftovers. wanna stop by? (:"

When they did this, they were outside the porch holding the warm tray on top of their lap. In his free hand, though, they held a lit cigarette.

At first he had to really think about who even wrote him that message, his head was swarmed with other tasks after all. Until it clicked, one look at his bandaged hand made it really clear who that could be. So he complied, went out of his way to visit Duckling, to see what this was about. Hopefully not another crash out.

"Smoking kills, ya know? Bad habit and it reeks." Said the man who smoked a pack a day himself. In his eye (get it? cuz he got only one left) though it didn't matter anymore. He had long lived past his prime anyways. "Feeling better? Last time ya looked a bit...fucked. PTSD is a god damn shit show."

[ask-duckling-n-tooth]

Apparently, he had sitting with his thoughts long enough to not realize time had move on without him noticing, scripting how he would start the conversation after the... incident, in a way that wouldn't be dragging it but also acknowledge it did in fact happen.

"Oh, I don't smoke." He dismissed entirely, waving the cigarette slightly. "I just... like how it smells. Reminds me of home..." A nostalgic smile creeped onto his cheeks as he stared at an important point. "And yeah, feelin' alot better now... Thanks, and sorry." Esteban quietly ended up saying, dropping his shoulders and making space if Weaver decided to sit with him on the porch.

"It's not--... it's not usual for me. It doesn't happen as often." Without him wanting it, his apologetic words escaped his lips in a way they sounded a lot more than an explanation. They hid something.

They quickly changed the subject. "Your hand's better?"

[ask-gweaver]

The kid really was a lot of kinds of fucked up at this point but who wasn't in their profession? Taking the cigarette from Esteban he sat down next to him, leaning back before waving the bandaged hand around a bit. "Healing, was my own fault though. Don't blame yourself too much. Shouldn't have grabbed the blade in the first place." And with that he put the lit cigarette in his mouth, inhaling before the smoke left through his lips once again. "Look...if this is about apologizing then zip it. Ya don't have anything to feel sorry about, we all crash out and get fucked up. That's how this whole shit show works. You're good buddy."

[ask-gweaver]

Duckling still felt bad about the other unfortunate meeting he had with Weaver. They hadn't forgotten about that wound in his hand, so, in compensation (and as a "I'm sorry"), they made whatever pastry they thought Weaver would like. What was it? Well, a mix of a brownie and carrot cake.

Still, just to make sure everything was well between them, they sent a message they obviously didn't struggle to write and send, clearly. They didn't even doubt for minutes if even talk to them about this. In the end, they simply wrote:

"heya, made some cake and have some leftovers. wanna stop by? (:"

When they did this, they were outside the porch holding the warm tray on top of their lap. In his free hand, though, they held a lit cigarette.

At first he had to really think about who even wrote him that message, his head was swarmed with other tasks after all. Until it clicked, one look at his bandaged hand made it really clear who that could be. So he complied, went out of his way to visit Duckling, to see what this was about. Hopefully not another crash out.

"Smoking kills, ya know? Bad habit and it reeks." Said the man who smoked a pack a day himself. In his eye (get it? cuz he got only one left) though it didn't matter anymore. He had long lived past his prime anyways. "Feeling better? Last time ya looked a bit...fucked. PTSD is a god damn shit show."

[ask-gweaver]

Hai weaver, I love you <3 that is all

Thank you person I've never met in my life and probably never will.

[ask-gweaver]

Oh! That was a compliment, I like opossums! They're some of my favorites, along with raccoons! <3

...take from that what you may.

(Sorry if this doubled up for some reason. Something went pear shaped on my end)

Oh shit, sorry then. Yeah, raccoons are adorable. Gotta admit that.