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@pseudosanepsychoman-blog
My one weakness.
… two weaknesses.
… alright Jack Daniel’s, Full Throttle, and Girl Scout Cookies sit before me at this table and here I am trying to pretend I have a quantity of weaknesses I can count without taking my shoes off.
AND your shoes.
#tell me all about...
Informed guess? Psychic powers? Jedi mind trick? I'm the Doctor?
pseudosanepsychoman replied to your post:ey-up. when the eff did i stop following certain…
I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL.
I’m sorry!
I forgive you because gif.
Lol gif.
Have my favourite frame then. :D
*SPIT TAKE*
pseudosanepsychoman replied to your post:"HOLY SHIT LOOK WHO’S BACK!"
It’s me, innit?
…no..? D:
-offers internet hugs and cookies-
My one weakness.
... two weaknesses.
... alright Jack Daniel's, Full Throttle, and Girl Scout Cookies sit before me at this table and here I am trying to pretend I have a quantity of weaknesses I can count without taking my shoes off.
AND your shoes.
pseudosanepsychoman replied to your post:ey-up. when the eff did i stop following certain…
I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL.
I’m sorry!
I forgive you because gif.
Lol gif.
Sometimes I say something I like to think is clever and funny and then immediately relegate myself to someday discovering that that exact phrasing has already been used and reblogged thousands of times over. I'VE probably reblogged it.
Keep an eye out for my indie documentary: Juggling More Than Three Characters In A Dialogue Scene: The Struggle Is Real
Anyone else ever get the vague urge to write idiotic friend-fiction just to be a dweeb? "And then Mink and Ashe flailed at each other over Starry Knight for approximately a thousand years while Fero rode off into the sunset with his hetero life partner Hutch and they all battled dragons happily ever after. The end."
In my brother's leaf-strewn backyard
Me: *aggressively scans ground for evil brown Oklahoman spiders* Hmmmm looks like a safe spot for my butt. Me: *sits down to read things on phone, keenly aware of peripheral vision* Five minutes later. Slight movement at 3 o'clock position. SUDDENLY SPIDER
Grandma's been released from the hospital. No one told her I was back in town for the first time in three years (my brother is diabolical). Her eyes went SO. WIDE. When I walked into her house, and watered up in record time. Kind of surreal to be back in Tulsa. Twelve hour drive times can go straight to hell but it's good to be here. :)
[As an aside WHY ARE THERE SO MANY NOTES ON THAT DRUNKEN PSYREN DOODLE IT'S AWFUL WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE WHOSE FAULT IS THIS]
[*Pearl Jam voice* oo-oo-ooh I ooo-ohhhhhh I'm still aliiiive~ But yeah. This is awkward. Please avoid eye contact while I apologize for my absence. Again. Life is getting... less hectic I guess? However, a family member got rushed to the hospital early this week, and while she's more or less okay at the moment, this Saturday I'll be driving up to Tulsa to visit with family for a week. (Hey whatup Mink). I'll be staying with my big brother -- who would probably wither and die without internet -- so I'll be capable of logging on, but how frequently I'll do so I couldn't say. Either way I hope you all had happy holidays and a hella New Year's. (I know I for one spent mine several kinds of drunk.) LOVE YOU KIDS, FERO OUT (for now).]
>Hello Traveler. Prices are in USD and payments will only be accepted via Paypal.
Additional samples: [HERE]
Commissions will be drawn at 5” x 7”, 300 dpi.
Simple or flat colored backgrounds only.
Full payment will be required following approval of the sketch.
Please allow 1-2 weeks for delivery. (if the art is a gift needed by a deadline please let me know in advance and I will try to accommodate).
Feel free to contact me via tumblr: [Send an Ask] (Questions are welcome and my email can be made available, no anonymous inquiries will be answered.)
This offering will expire Dec. 30.
headcanon??: To keep him chill at HQ when there’s no murderizin’ to do someone introduces Krieg to the ancient and time-honored tradition of the Grand Theft Auto series.
He immediately experiences a soul-deep connection and understanding with Trevor Philips.
donttouchmycomb yes 100% accurate.
"BUSTED? ! I'LL BUST YOUR TEETH DOWN YOUR THROAT HOLE"
"Krieg no TVs don't have teeth or throat holes (except maybe Handsome Jack's) you can't fuck you broke it. Now I'll never know if Kurt and Blaine overcome all the obstacles in their relationship." (←probably Axton)
An Internal Echo
I’m a fly on the wall in my own conversations.
I’m a stranger to people who look me in the eye and call me by name.
I’m a dead man walking by someone else’s will.
I hate myself for what I’ve become—
—but I don’t remember enough to know what really changed.
I’m in love with a girl who doesn’t know who I am and can’t tell that I am here.
You can imagine, then, that I’m very, very…
… tired.
And I just want to sleep.
♝: Reading a book together
He makes a pillow out of himself for her, mostly as an excuse to cling and hide, and he's all hard surfaces and sharp angles cozied up to soft curves but she doesn't seem to mind.
"Jewel and I come up from the field," she reads, "following the path in single file."
He listens absently, mind smoothing with the steady flow of words, strong soft serene voice slithering in silk and sweet and seeping-- everything settles and slows.
"Cash squints at the board. On the long flank of it the rain crashes steadily, myriad, fluctuant," she says, and she hesitates, maybe considering her audience, maybe wondering if she should explain the words, maybe thinking whether it'd be a waste of time. He doesn't care--
"Myriad." Good word.
He just twitches his knuckles where they rest loose against her side. She just moves on. " 'I'm going to put it on a bevel,' he says."
He could count the dust motes caught low and lit yellow-pale in the lamplight. He could, if he could keep his eye open, but she's warm in all the places she allows his arm to curl around, soft on the shoulder where she lets him hide his face.
Half-asleep and drifting, still following the story somewhere in his mind, he opens his mouth--
maybe him--
he thinks at first it's him--
and he says--
even as she reads it he says--
"In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep," he says. He says, "And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep, you are not. And when you are filled with sleep, you never were.
"I don't know what I am," he says. "I don't know if I am or not."
[Quotes are from As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner.]
Have a crown: ♔
finding your muse wearing their clothes
When you get right down to it he's only got the one pair of trousers to his name. Trousers and a scrap of sleeve leftover from what used to be something like scrubs, once. No socks, no undies. Armor made from salvage. A dead man's boots and mask. The old harness they'd hung his IV tubes and mini vital monitors from in the liminal space of his cell, heartbeat beep stalking behind him step by step til he prayed for a flatline. (A sharp rock quieted that later.)
It's all gotta get washed sooner or later if he wants to hang onto the rare privilege of being allowed indoors with something like friends. Keepers.
Sidetracked:
(picture him leashed by the harness to a lightpost, battered metal bowl of meat nearby, 'Psycho' scrawled on the side)
(still strange that he gets a bunk instead, never saw that coming: his own bunk and little helpings of green on his plate next to the sea of red and the polite insistence on blue lips that he at least TRY the green shit, please, before you eat your meat, at least two bites okay, here's your fork, remember the fork?)
-- he don't like the fork and he don't like the green shit and he don't like the standard issue metal of the bunk but he likes that someone'll just give him these things with an indulgent smile 'cause someone thinks he oughtta have them, and if he wants to keep that going he's gotta make an effort now and then. Jeans and sleeve in the wash. Scrub dirt and old blood off the armor and the harness and the boots and the mask, let it all dry. Same with the skin. Bandages 'round his face make him feel less naked -- not another scrap needed.
He goes to all this trouble and comes back down to put it all back on, and this is what he finds.
He stares wordlessly at the little man in his big armor for several long seconds, spots the differences, mulls it over. Then:
"Do you eVEN LIFT, bro?!"
[But by far the best basic training graffiti I ever saw was in a port-a-john during BEAST:
"Fuck BEAST week
↑ Nice integrity
↑ You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means
↑ I just wanted to add an arrow"]
