#brothertm

     ❝ They’re little figurines of the characters and monsters, they’re supposed to help the player VISUALIZE what is going on. Eddie and I buy them at this specialty shop in Indianapolis and then he typically paints them to reflect whatever is going on in his SICK MIND. ❞ A little laugh escapes Jeff’s lips and it might be a nervous one.

     Painting miniatures while chain smoking and talking about campaign ideas with your metalhead friends was an ideal way to spend your Saturday evenings in Jeff’s opinion. Hopefully not dweeby enough to scare off 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙱𝚢𝚎𝚛𝚜. He had always liked his style, a certain air of silent suffering like a TORTURED ARTIST from the past. They ran in different creep circles. Actually, he wasn’t sure what circle Jonathan ran in. Jeff always thought he just seemed to float around like a SPECTER.

@brothertm​  I care about you because you're you, unashamedly, unbashfully you. I care because even though you saw me when I was a loud jokester you kept seeing me when I was a quiet loner. You never stopped trying. I care because you're sweet, and gentle, and make me feel safe. I care because how could I not? How could I not look at you and care and care and care until my heart gives out?

            he’s hair has turned into wet ringlets, face red as he grabbed a hold of his water bottle. he’ll dip his head back, chugging the majority of it eagerly, some of the water dripping from his chin onto his shirt. he’ll nearly spit the water out of his mouth whenever jonathan finishes his sentence, lurching forward. he’ll let out a little cough after he forces himself to swallow down the cold drink instead of spitting it out. he’ll wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, his stomach knotting up. “jesus christ, jon. are you trying to kill me?” words are muffled against the skin of his hand before he let’s it drop to his side. his face was already red from drumming on stage for the last hour and a half--...but he could swear it burned more. he’ll chew on his bottom lip slightly, stormy blues shifting over jonathan before he smirks. 

[text] HE SAYS I HAVE NO INTERNET GAME i'm dying

this description is *chefs kiss*

send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours while ridiculously drunk. /// @brothertm