#just a couple a guys bein dudes

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your characters like this

[cak3o]

I love it when concrete man and guts are besties

Oh also I gave guts pants? We will see how long this design lasts

[meatloafzzz]

More Ace and Deuce❤️💙

[mikelogan]

just a couple of boys and their pipes

law & order 2x01 + 3x03

[roselightfairy]

Anakin and Tarkin is the most toxic budding bromance I’ve ever seen.

[barghuest-draws]

Just a couple a guys bein' dudes~

[wasd-paint]

Just a couple of guys bein' dudes! Don't stare, it's rude.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

I've been seeing some words in the tags and thought, hey, why not. I hope it's any good!

Daryl x male!reader

Being the new guy in the recruitment party was scary.

You ran with Aaron, who had a mace for a hand and was a badass.

And Daryl, who was probably the biggest walking distraction you had ever seen. He was everything you wanted to be, or to have? You weren't sure you just knew the crush you had on him was obvious to Aaron, and Daryl was luckily oblivious to it.

Daryl did always look out for you, though. He cared for his party members and whowed it in many different ways, like heading into a store to find you new, sturdy steel-toed boots after seeing you shove walkers to the ground and stomping their skull with worn out shoes that could easily tear if you did that more often.

"C'mon, give 'em a test run." He'd call out after knocking a walker down on its stomach and holding it down for you to crush its skull with much more ease now.

Next time you guys were going out on a run when the weather got a bit colder Daryl made sure to find you a thick leather jacket. You thanked him only for it looking really good and wondering how he knew you wanted a cool jacket, but when he told you why he gave it to you it was even better. "Walker won't tear this as easy as yer other coat. Will bite through it so don' go bein' reckless now just cus ya look badass." The pat on your shoulder radiated through your entire body as heat rose to your cheeks and Aaron laughed from next to Daryl. "Looks good on you, you two match now."

Aaron found it hilarious how you had confessed to being head over heels with the huntsman but always declined when he told you to go make a move. "He clearly wouldn't mind if you cooked dinner for him or let him teach you stuff about his bike." With a fork pointed at you from across the dinnertable he continued. "Which you still need to ride, by the way." The way he made a fece when he said 'ride' had you almost choke on your dinner. You swallowed the food and coughed. "Oh come on! Just when I take a bite, really?" You both laughed and Aaron decided to drop the teasing, letting you finish your dinner in peace.

The next day he found Daryl working in the garage, deciding to go fish for a bit so he could see where he was on the spectrum of liking you.

It was difficult to fish when he couldn't just outright ask seeing Daryl didn't talk about these things, but he managed to learn he was absolutely fine with having you around and teaching you stuff. He counted that as a win.

A couple of weeks passed and Aaron was getting tired of seeing his friends be a bunch of dumbasses and rung them up for a supply run to a stocked warehouse to take whatever they could fit in the car.

"Where do you expect me to sit, dude?" You stared at the car's trunk, backseat and passenger seat stuffed full of random crap you disn't even know the community needed. Only when Aaron pointed out you could ride back with Daryl the hint dropped. You didn't really need all this junk, he just wanted you two to admit your feelings.

"Hop on, yer with me." Daryl was already seated on his bike and waiting for you to join him, watching you approach slowly and get on the bike with awkward movement.

"Now hold on tight, ya don't wanna fall." He revved the engine but didn't drive off yet, instead looking over his shoulder. "Said hold on tight. Tha' aint' tight, kid."

You pressed further into his back, but still he grabbed your hands and wrapped your arms closer around him. "Tha's tight. Now lets go home of we wanna be done unpackin' all tha' crap 'fore nightfall."

With that, you were off to home.

You never imagined how amazing it felt to ride on a motorcycle, but maybe that was because of how you were squished against Daryl's back.

Which was something Daryl was enjoying an awful lot too, if he had to admit. He really had to invite you on solo hunts more often.

It was in fact far into the evening when you had finally empties out the car and sorted all the items. Tired and sore you bid the men goodnight and headed home, in dire need of sleep.

Daryl had taken you out on a hunting trip not long after. "Pretty boy like ya shouldn't be out there unprepared." He claimed while teaching you how to soften your steps and breath through the process of keeping aim on a target far away. You managed to catch only one small animal but Daryl still called it a successful hunt and took you home to continue the teachings by showing you how to clean and skin in preparation for cooking.

You shared dinner together and hung out on the couch, going over the day, how proud Daryl was of your quick learning and how thankful you were for him teaching you.

Daryl came back from the kitchen with new drinks and sat down closer than before, setting the glasses down on the table and lounging back. He lifted an arm to drape around you and pull you against his side, finally gathering the courage to do what Aaron told him to, in his own Daryl way of words of course.

"I like havin' ya around, kid. Stick around fer a while longer?"

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” additional tags: (wrongly) assumed infidelity, miscommunication that gets resolved, this must be an au bc mickey would obv never interrupt his own sleep to leave the apartment

Mickey steps carefully into their apartment, taking great care to shut the door without being too loud. He closes it with barely a click. But nothing can prepare him for what happens next.

When Mickey turns, it’s like he’s stepped right into a 90s romantic drama, the single floor lamp clicking on to shine in a perfect spotlight, revealing where his husband is very much awake, and very much waiting for his return.

He’s sitting on the couch. Tucked up in his bathrobe and the most unimpressed frown.

“Fuck.”

“Who is he?”

Mickey glances from left to right. Behind himself. Looks at Ian again, his heart still pounding in his chest from the startle. “Who’s who?”

“Don’t gimme that.” And now Ian’s standing up, gathering his robe around himself as he prepares to fire off The Chin. “You disappear every night - yes, I noticed,” he states before Mickey can interrupt. “Bring a bag with you… Come home sweaty… I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re fucking bad at hiding this, Mickey.”

It takes a second for everything to sink in. For the endorphins from the last couple hours to start pumping upward into his brain this time. 

And… Damn.

Ian caught him.

To be perfectly honest, Mickey thought he was getting away with this shit - was being real cagey and everything too - even getting a shower in before sliding back into bed with him.

“Two hours. That enough to meet up with him and do what you gotta do?”

Meet up with who? Yeah right. “You think I can get somebody out at this hour?” Mickey asks, his confusion starting to put him on edge. “Been doing this shit all on my own. Well-... I mean ‘cept for the other handful of guys who show up sometimes…”

And the way Ian’s eyebrows rise is almost as startling as how he stops in his tracks, repeating the words back to him with dragged out intensity. “‘Handful of guys’...?”

It’s got Mickey slugging his bag off his shoulder, the dramatics of it all really killing his high. “Christ, Ian. What’re you bein’ so bitchy for-”

“What am I being bitchy for.” There he goes again, repeating shit. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Mickey are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah - what - I was doin’ this shit for you, anyway. Thought you’d at least be excited about it.”

Oh. Fuck. Ian does not like that. “Excited?” Off comes the robe, in a flurry of angry movements. He’s running hot, and not in a good way. “Why the fuck would I be excited about my husband cheating on me!”

And it’s-...

He’s-...

Wait a second.

“What?”

“You thought you could go out every night and meet up with a ‘handful of guys’ and I’d be jumping for joy?” He sure is using air quotes like he’s having a good time with it, but no no no-

“What the-...” Mickey shakes his head, trying to clear the air because holy fuck, “I ain’t fuckin’ cheating on you, Ian - the hell?”

“You just said-” 

“Christ, you think I’m out bangin’ other dudes?”

“Wuh-...! You-...!”

Mickey rubs a hand over his mouth, everything suddenly making a whole lot of sense. The dramatics. The theater of it all. Ian was catching him coming home from the act, but ‘the act’ ended up being two very different things in their respective heads.

“Holy shit,” Mickey breathes out, going for his bag so he can put that thought immediately out of Ian’s head. “Look.”

He tugs the zipper open. Starts dumping out its contents on the floor right between them - his gym shoes - his old-ass iPod - a workout shirt - socks that stink so bad that they’re all he really needed to avoid all this. One whiff would’ve immediately made things clear.

But it’s enough now. Ian is slowly putting all the pieces together, the worry in his brow evening out and his chin returning to normal pointedness. Finally.

“You…�� you says, hope returning. “You’ve been…going to the gym…?”

Mickey gestures to the pile of clothes in between them, his tone evening into something honest. “Yeah, man. Thought you wouldn’t notice once you knocked out…”

Ian eyes over everything one more time. Then slowly, his lips pull into a small pout, those eyes flicking away. “I notice every time you’re not in bed.” ‘Bitch.’ He wants to add it so bad. Mickey can practically see it trying to break through.

But he doesn’t. And there’s something so sheepish and honest and vulnerable about it, that Mickey can’t help but smile, peace returning as he stuffs his clothes and shoes back into his bag. “Fuck would I ever cheat on you for, ya dummy?”

A beat passes. Thoughts lingering. “I dunno… I just thought-...” 

“Well stop.” It sure makes a lot of sense, though. Now that he sees it through that lens. Fuck, he’d probably think the same thing if their roles were switched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to getchya all riled up…”

“S’okay…” Ian watches as Mickey gets himself sorted. Still has a lot of questions trying to get out - he can tell. And it starts with this one. “What do you mean you were doing this for me?”

It’s the correct one - right away. And Mickey’s glad he asked, actually. Because if he must know…

The floorboards creak beneath his shoes as he steps up into Ian’s space, his muscles warmed up and ready enough to finally show off his skills. 

And when he does it - when he wrangles his giant-ass husband in and hauls him up until he's got those thick thighs straddling his waist, Ian’s startle and wide eyes say it all as Mickey slots him up against the wall - all two hundred pounds - keeping him held up in his arms.

“Been goin’ to the gym so I can lift ya,” he preens, impressed with his own strength.

Because he’s been working for this moment. For the look of sheer shock in Ian’s eyes from the rush of it - how it simmers into delight and pride and something much, much steamier the longer he holds him up.

And damn, that little breathy, impressed laugh that huffs out between them. “Fuck, Mick…”

Oh yeah. This is what all that 2am weightlifting has been for.

“You like that, huh?” Mickey grins, the atmosphere shifting familiar and fun - heavy in a good way. “This do it for ya?”

From his arms, Ian nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he takes a second to eat Mickey up with his eyes, those big arms wrapping around the back of his neck. 

He probably thought he was doing a decent job at hiding how hot he gets with this - when Mickey can make him feel small and moveable. 

They’re both absolute dogshit at keeping secrets, it turns out.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

[ghostradiodylan]

Just a couple of guys bein dudes, having a laugh about the hagga hacka quora. Definitely not looking longingly at each other or anything. Y’know.

[jellyskink]

A fish out of water. (Idk I wanted to make the title reference Stan's Cipher Zodiac symbol but I couldn't think of a witty way how. Is it even a fish?? Idk I see a fish lol.)

("Wherever we go, we go together alright bro?")

Light filled the room as Stan flipped the lightswitch to his condo. Soft white light filled the room, a mixture of trash and trinkets littered the room in front him.

(Right... I forgot I've been needin' to take care of that. Eh I'll get to it tomorrow. The twins won't be back here until a couple of days.)

Reaching up to scratch his chin, a sharp pain registered as his hand scratched his chin and lower lip.

(OW Ffff-french toast... Figures I'd forget about the number that guy did on the old kisser.)

Earlier that day another jerk had mistaken him for his twin. The usual routine, of course he made sure to return the favor with interest though. There's no way that guy would be seein' anything with his left eye for a good while after the mark he left on it.

(Welp, better get to trying to fix this up. Mabel and Ford'll definitely worry even more than usual if this gets infected.)

Saying that, the old man shuffled over to his bathroom, dodging the miscellaneous items that covered the floor.

(Aight let's get this over with...)

The bathroom was a little disorganized, but everything was more or less the same as it usually was. Still, it was a bit of an adjustment to get used to having Mabel (and to an extent Dipper's) stuff in the sink cabinet along with his own.

Searching through the wave of clutter in the cabinet, Stan eventually found the peroxide he was searching for, to his dismay he did find he was out of normal band-aids, so he was forced to use the box of band-aids covered with designs of puppies, kittens, and narwhals.

(Really hope Mabel doesn't mind I'm usin' one of her band-aids...)

Stan knew she wouldn't, heck she'd insist he use them, but Stan couldn't help but feel at least a little bit guilty for needing to ask for handouts from her, a kid.

Cleaning up the wound was about as fun as it could be, but it wasn't the worst. God knows he's had to clean up way worse.

After quickly slapping a kitten band-aid with the words "Paw-Sum Dude!" onto his wound, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror.

(Geez, I guess I'll never escape bein' pointdexter's shadow sometimes huh?)

It was to be expected with being a twin right? Especially if one was more famous than the other.

Although these days that "popularity" was more negative than positive.

(At least it wasn't the dog treats n' cat biscuits thing this time. I HATE when they do that.)

Geez what would Pa think with how they turned out, what would MA think?

Times like these he really wished he could literally beat some sense into people. If he could only make people understand Ford like he did, or at least, like he THOUGHT he did.

(Shoot, he started thinking like this again.)

Like a slideshow in science class, bits and pieces of memories of his youth flashed by in a blink of an eye.

Fond memories of their times on the beach, their first day of school, to the awkward start of learning to box.

To the less wonderful times, the fights between their parents or the family in general, times the two got hurt defending themselves from bullies, to all of the times the two fought.

...

"This was no accident, Stan; you did this! You did this because you couldn't handle me going to college on my own!"

(Crap, I'm dwellin' on this again? Why? It's been years since that dumb mistake!)

And yet it wasn't just a dumb mistake was it? It was THE dumb mistake. The one that cost Ford his dream college, the one that ruined their relationship for so many years, the one one that got Stanley kicked out onto the streets by their Father and was forced to survive all those years on his own.

(If only I had manned up and had told the truth about that dumb machine earlier, we probably could've fixed it. I could've prevented all of the junk that I caused to the family, I probably could've PREVENTED Ford from ever getting involved with that dumb triangle!)

But... was their any truth to that? In a perfect world where Stan didn't screw up once again, could he confidently say things would've been better?

(Why didn't he say anything that day? Why didn't he stand up against Pa that day? Did I screw up so much he hated me that much?)

The funniest part about that was he could'nt even ask Ford about it. If he did, Ford got this distant look on his face while havin' a 50/50 shot of either spacing out for a good while or freakin' out for what felt like AGES.

Stan began to feel a tight feeling in his chest, his throat starting to close as it started to become harder to breathe.

The very same man who had carried so much pride in himself and his work, that he was willing to leave Stan out to dry when Stan had screwed up his chances at getting into his dream school, was now a shell of his former self.

(You threw everything away for... for... some dumb triangle with an eye! Your self respect, your family, you gave it all up for what??)

Tears began to flow down Stanley's cheeks.

(Damnit, I shouldn't be crying. A man ain't supposed to cry over something as small as this!)

As Stan tried his best to try and rebottle his emotions again, something caught his eye as he looked out in front of him.

It was Ford. His spitting image stared back at him, looking just as upset as he was while wearing the same things as he did.

His previous sadness soon began to blossom into rage as Stan found himself grabbing the baseball bat he kept in the bathroom for emergencies.

"Y-YOU JUST HAD TO HAVE EVERYTHING DIDN'T YOU!"

*Crack*

"AND STILL YA GAVE UP EVERYTHING TA BE WITH SOMETHIN' THAT DOESN'T TREAT YA BETTER THAN A STRAY DOG!!"

*Shatter*

"I-I"

The words "Hate you" hung on the edge of this tongue. He wanted to say those words so BADLY. Wanted to believe em' too. And yet he couldn't.

The mirror in front of him was shattered beyond repair, pieces of it still hanging onto it's frame as the rest collected into the sink below it.

From those pieces, Stan was able to see the ball of anger that stood in front of him. Ford's reflection wasn't there anymore, it was him again, yet with the way he looked in the mirror, he also saw his Father's stern look staring back at him, his rage filled eyes reflecting back at him in the triangular piece of mirror that stubbornly held on to the mirror's frame despite what a majority of the other pieces did by just breaking off from it.

("All you ever do is lie and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails.")

*Clunk*

The bat fell to the ground as Stan felt himself fall to his knees, tears flowing even stronger as he found his body doing the opposite of what his mind told it to do.

A bloodcurdling roar filled the night, similar to a hurt angry bear, the sound afterwards followed by sobs.

Stan would eventually get to collecting himself enough to clean up the mess in the bathroom, afterwards falling asleep at his armchair with the tv on as whitenoise. The framed pictures of his family watching over him as his only companions that night.

It was going to be "fun" to think up a lie to tell the neighbors the next day about the noise coming from his condo, but he was too exhausted to worry about that right now. Right now, he just wanted to sleep, hoping the cravings for certain substances would leave in the morning, he made so much progress for the twins already, he didn't want to lose all of it due to some "hysterical episode" of his.

Of course, when Mabel and Dipper called the next morning they'd be none the wiser of what ailed their Great Uncle, he'd be matching their excited energy as they told them what mischief they've gotten into lately.

Ford would still be none the wiser as he embraced his brother when they metup that afternoon, although he would find it strange Stanley had trouble looking him in the eye that day, although he'd be quickly brushed off when he'd ask Stan if anything was wrong and if he and his Muse could help with anything.

Stanley was going to make sure that nobody was going to see or know the fragile side to him.

Nobody was going to know that "Stanley Screwup Pines" was struggling with personal issue.

If luck wasn't on your side you kept trying until it was, even if you had to cheat your way to winning.

You didn't just accept defeat when you're knocked down.

If there was something wrong with a performance you just continued onwards, winging it and acting like nothing was wrong because the show must go on.

He wasn't ever going to cry in front of anyone.

Cause especially if he cried,

SHE would cry along with him.

And he wasn't ever going to let that happen as long as his lived.

In a way you could say this was the greatest con Stanley Pines ever did.

Convincing everyone, even himself, that he was infact, fine.

(HEY BESTIES! I totally lost some sleep writing this but after seeing the latest post my Jellyskink about Stan I knew I had to try writing some fanfiction for Stan!

The 14 year old girl that possessed me is happy to say it was fun to try writing more angsty fanfiction, especially since that's a specialty for the Gravity Falls Fandom when it isn't being silly or comforting lol.

I hope this turned out decently! As I writing this I was thinking of two Marina songs to recommend but I couldn't decide on one so I thought I'd share both of them.

"The Family Jewels"

"Teen Idle"

Both by Marina.

I hope I kinda captured Stan's essence! I always kinda thought he gave off the "Bruiser with a soft side" trope and stuff!

He's so bbg, I hope everyone enjoys the very girlypop and slaytastic fanfic I wrote for him! Geez I'm having too much fun talking like this lmao!)

THIS IS SO SADDD I LOVE IT 💔💔💔 POOR STAN!!!

(Pictured above: Ford's obliviousness has only gotten worse in his isolation from other humans)

(Also pictured above: the young twins are currently holding the family brain cells)

[conderkyl]

Just a couple guys bein dudes

[handhelld]

Just a couple of guys bein dudes

[inchwormed]

just a couple of dudes bein guys... just a couple of guys bein dudes...

(ko-fi commission!)

[discobiscotto]

Just Guys Bein’ Dudes: A Needlessly Huge TED-Talk About Luca & Alberto’s Relationship

Ready for some big-brain BS?

Well, ready or not, here’s a “little” dive into how I interpret/perceive Luca and Alberto’s relationship.

Note: I’m referring to them as my own headcanon versions of them as men. It can certainly be applied to them as young adults and teens for sure, but I’m diving into ‘Ciao Luca’ territory specifically. So, there, just being clear on the who’s who.

What’s their deal anyhow?

Are they romantic partners? Are they attracted to eachother, yanno 👉🏻👈🏻? Buddies? Buddies with benefits? Are they even a couple? Are they husbands? What’s their deal?

So, a couple years ago when I was starting to get really busy with the headcanons, I went on a tear about their relationship to lay down some kind of clear foundation for it. I felt alittle conflicted at the time about how their relationship was going to feel/act like.

To me, because I love ambiguity, I wanted to keep that energy going from the original source material…but with alittle “oomph”…considering there’s been time and maturity tacked on. They can’t just be Pallin’ Around forever, something’s gotta give with chemistry that strong imo.

If I’m being honest, them being point-blank romantic partners felt too cliched and predictable/boring. Courtship, wooing, marriage…snore. It just didn’t feel like ‘them’ to me. It bordered heteronormative somehow. I was just …PUTTING MYSELF TO SLEEP.

Not to say they aren’t romantic, because they certainly are in their own right! It just isn’t the defining Vibe of their relationship.

As a queer lady with a pretty open mind in terms of what defines a relationship and/or bond, I believe that love expression is on a spectrum. Different strokes for different folks, yanno?

I scooted myself over to that old filing cabinet in my brain with random Greek Philosophy tid-bits (that I was impressed wasn’t put thru the incinerator) and I got polishing.

I remembered a few terms, like storge (family love), Eros: romantic, mania: obsessive/stalkerish love, agape, philia, the list goes on.

We’re gonna focus on PHILIA, typically deemed affectionate and/or “brotherly love”, I think also falls under platonic love.

We’re going to come back to this later☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻

As a couple of seamonsters (first and foremost) the human concept of love may not necessarily compute to them. Not that they get confused or turn their nose up at it, but rather it’s more boxed-in and rigid than, I guess, fish love? Haha.

Example: homosexuality, bisexuality, and heterosexuality as concepts are human inventions to help humans navigate their life and their identity in the world, be part of a tribe, and potentially find mates.

They’re social constructs, like gender conformity, and Mondays.

Seamonsters really don’t have that. They’re similar to humans in alot of ways, but in terms of attraction, love, and social awareness, they just kindof ride the wave and go where the current takes them.

Opposite sex pairings likely happen more often because [gestures] instincts and Makin’ Fries. But just like humans, same sex relationships happen just as much!…but seamonsters have no concept of homophobia (strictly a human invention) so there’s no discouragement or imposed fear of the relationship…it just happens if it’s meant to and the world keeps spinning. [deep sighs]

Luca and Alberto are aware of human society and customs (especially now that they’ve been living amongst them for atleast 15 years). So, they still try to do-as-the-humans-do sometimes. They know that they feel a strong bond to eachother that can’t be ignored, and when humans sense a similar bond between each other they express it by being physically intimate, or giving gifts, or creating things for eachother, etc.

So, basically, it boils down to “I love my friend, so I wish to express that love for him like that [gesture].”

Now bringing it back to Philia up there!👆🏻

That particular source defines philia as brotherly love, both must be men (in the Greek system), they respect and take pleasure in eachother’s company, bond through exploring philosophical truths, and sexual intimacy or attraction is optional.

This other source takes it a bit further saying that we could be diving into “friends to lovers” territory which is the aforementioned “oomph” I was referring to. The bridge into Eros stuff without being completely rooted there (ie your usual romantic pair).

Their relationship isn’t based on physical attraction, but began as a close friendship that progressed into something more. Not built on lust, but on mutual affection and respect for eachother.

They are an “unlikely” pair. Where a hockey hug became alittle tighter, and the joined hands in a good old “Piacere Girolamo Trombetta” started to linger.

They feel safe with eachother, they love and prefer eachother’s company, they share eachother’s worlds and feel deeply connected in them. Alberto cooks meals for them because he loves Luca, and Luca gives Alberto [SPOILER] because he loves him back.

They share a “I can’t quite put my finger on it but I feel safe, warm, and happy with you, I enjoy your company and what we have, I love the feeling of you being close to me, exchanging warmth and heartbeats, and I feel like this is more than going out on dates or ‘picking out curtains’.” kind of thing.

They’re roommates who kiss and “play house”. They are in love…but express it in their own unique way. They are openly affectionate. They keep people guessing, they confuse the neighbors, they have an “inside joke”.

Alberto lays on the housewife schtick: straightening Luca’s tie and sending him on his way with a packed lunch.

They call eachother heteronormative terms of endearment, mostly to be cheeky. Sarcastic “Honey” or “Dear” followed by someone affectionately ending up in a headlock.

They love to play with the human version of “married life”, little do they realize they’ve grown genuinely accustomed to it.

They’re queer but have no name and nowhere they’d rather be except each other’s arms (that one place that makes perfect sense).

They aren’t married…they never can get married…but that doesn’t stop them from sharing their homes, their beds, and a last name written on their Christmas cards.

In conclusion, humans say they’re gay.

The Paguro’s say “They built a farm together.”

SOURCES:

[12piritarch]

" ah, er, yeah that makes sense. um. well, my friends call me dumbass. " it's suddenly.. incredibly nervous. spotted hands fidget with themselves as aviv glances away.

" my real name is aviv. but you can call me whatever you want, honestly. dury... duro.. hanahana. " it'll practice his name later, but he's stuck being hanahana for now.

In honesty he wants to say, that he had 18 days of bad luck that passed by too fast. Ninety nine brothers were dead and he had nothing to show for it but a legacy of pain and destruction.

"Nice to meet you, My... hm. It feels weird, calling someone master. How about we call each other by our names!"

Casual interaction means a desire for friendship, and if this is the nexus of everything...