Anythingbut-straight - Broken

that one extremely homoerotic painting of a babylonian man listening to a babylonian twink playing babylonian harp. that one

So I doodled one of these then instantly became obsessed with the idea and can’t stop and have been spamming twitter with brain wolf facts sorry everyone.

When i first read this it nearly killed me, so i had to draw it :V

Oh my heart, I am deceased

An explanation.

Wolves are huge!!

While walking the dog yesterday, we found the tracks of a pack of wolves that had passed across the edge of our property. (I live out in the highway in Alaska.) I took a picture of my hand next to a wolf track for comparison. 

Now here’s a picture of my hand with one of our dog’s tracks:

And he’s not an especially small dog; he’s a 55-lb retriever mix.

And the dog’s tracks next to wolf tracks:

Wolves are huge.

generally i keep my egos pretty close in appearance with just like scars and haircuts and things separating them but man i do love me some change over time headcanons. like completely bizarre, random changes that just make them look less and less like Jack as time goes on, so like Jackie is just getting steadily more red-brown hair, and then a nice russet, and then full-on ginger by the time he’s like six years old. Marvin’s eyes are larger than they used to be and a slightly different color too. JJ’s hair is getting curly and his hands don’t look like Jack’s. Henrik’s pretty sure he’s getting shorter and he is NOT happy about it. Chase erupts into freckles and his face softens. None of them have the same nose anymore. Marvin has these mean sharp eyebrows now and it’s not just because he plucks them. Chase swears his ears stick out more than they used to but he also thinks he’s getting handsomer. JJ’s wisdom teeth grow in for some reason none of them understand and Jackie gets the wrong blood transfusion cause they could have sworn he was B+ two months ago. Henrik sighs and fixes it, complaining about how he has to be the one to always take care of everyone else before fainting from a sudden fruit allergy four days later.

And Anti, you know, Anti stays the same. Anti always looks just like Jack. and he kind of watches from a distance and sees them, fluctuating and whole and alive, and wonders what it would be like to let the idea of being Jack go and to see if he could change on his own. Maybe he’d get taller and his mouth would thin out and his eyes would take on a permanent heterochromia or even a nice rich brown. His fingers would grow longer and slimmer around the hilts of knives and his whole body would shift slightly, his hips narrowing and his shoulders rising up. He kind of likes the thought of it. To move, like human beings move.

But he doesn’t need that kind of weakness. And anyway, he has his goal. So he’ll just stand back, waiting to strike, watching Jameson’s eyelashes get longer and Marvin’s canines sharpening and Chase fitting into size nine shoes. Jackie doesn’t need glasses anymore, a development Henrik complains about at length in a voice slightly lower than the rest of theirs. It means nothing and everything. They’re their own people. At the end of the day, they still look like brothers.

A throwback!

We had to do Kinetic typography in class today. I chose a very important audio clip

“I want to speak to a manager,” the middle-aged woman said in her stern I-used-to-be-a-soccer-mom-ten-years-ago voice, looking down at me over the top of her Gucci reading glasses.

A wicked grin split across my face and the gates of Hell opened up behind me, releasing a gust of hot wind that whipped my apron around my body and forced the woman to shield her face. Demons came forth, dancing around in flames with songs of, “She wants to speak to a manager. Did you hear that? She wants to speak to a manager!” before erupting into earsplitting shrieks of laughter, none louder than my own cackling.

I took in the woman’s look of utter horror before my eyes rolled back into my head and I growled,

“I am the manager.”