#somebody teach me how to paint fur like that

[kitofawriter]

So I watched the first two episodes since they’re in English now. Live reaction:

LMK Season 5 spoilers under the cut:

Fun training session! Let’s go!

Tired MK is tired. Somebody get this boy the therapy he needs!

Wukong is trying to be responsible about the monkey form at least.

“I’m compartmentalizing!” XD me too MK, me too

MAC MAC MAC!!!! Also “Bud” not in a mocking way!!!!

“This mountain’s been by home just as long as yours” I’m screaming!!!

They’re working together! (Sorta)

Wukong confirming he didn’t know about MK!

Referencing Mac’s death and resurrection!

Ominous stone crack!!

Mei!! My girl!!!

THEY BUILT HIM A NEW HOUSE!!!!

Tang continuing the tradition of shirking the hard labor. Good to see he’s still himself.

THE PICTURES!!!

The origami!!

Even Mo gets a picture!!

HUG HUG HUG!!!

MK please chill, like even 2% calmer would be a major improvement. You need to rest and get therapy.

“Sleeping with the noodles”

Dadsy give him some comfort. Also send him to therapy. Or teach him cooking.

MK backstory! Noodles! Sleepy noodles!!!! That is so cute oh my god!!

MK is a heavy boi. Also sleepy.

“I love you, son” I am not emotionally prepared for the sheer amount of MK and Pigsy fluff in the last two minutes.

Mac sleeping with the little monkeys!!! At the tree!!!

Spooky goings on. References to Monkey King getting kidnapped to the underworld perhaps??

Stop blaming the monkeys for the things they’ve been trying to stop please. That’d be great. MK needs a nap. You could’ve waited for him to sleep.

Wukong throwing shade about the underworld situation. You tell ‘em!

Smug smile. Good monkey.

Mac canonically appears in the Monkey King Ace Attorney TV show? What?

Fillet?? Fillet??? Nezha?!? “Nezhie”?!??!?

Li Jing, hey, can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you. Maybe take some parenting classes and then we’ll talk.

Mac trying to stop the fillet!!!

MK losing it a bit at that, love the concern for Wukong! They is a family!!!

Also Nezha trying to plea for them!

Underworld jail.

Grumpy Wukong and mopey Mac, I can just feel all the angst fics being written.

MK is trying so hard to free his mentor!

“It’s tense in here.” Gee I wonder why.

Secret plan with the fur? Secret plan with the fur? The nods?!

(I think I should interject here to point out, I rarely watch things without also doing something else to distract my hands, and yet my crochet has been forgotten because I’m having so many thoughts!)

Nezha providing exposition

Tang!Wukong, glasses is a must

Painted art style my beloved it’s good to see your return!

“My father is not the enemy” I mean he’s not exactly a pillar of goodness either my dude.

“I’m a clone”

Okay the running animation bit was actually pretty nice, love the movement. I like how they’re really trying to keep close to the original style of animation even though they’re working with a totally different tool set.

Mac, are you…are you Naruto running?

Wukong keeps doing the cutest smiles. I’m gonna have to go back through and grab some many screenshots.

Wukong and Mac just…knowing exactly how to fight together with no communication when they’re actually both on the same side.

Sandy got a new truck…

…And it’s gone, poor guy

MK worried that they’re just the harbingers of chaos when they have directly caused so few of the problems they’ve faced. Like, I get it, but maybe have some perspective. You know what would help with that? Therapy.

Just don’t explain anything. It’s fine. They’ll figure it out.

MK building powers!!

Fillet use!! Mac stepping in!! Mac sacrificing himself?!?!? Oh the angst fics will be legendary!!

“He always gets away, right?” Followed by sad face?!? OH THE ANGST FICS WILL BE LEGENDARY!!!

Monkey in pagoda. This feels familiar.

I’m sensing a later “boiling rock” style episode. Or else they all get trapped in there and have to bust out (Nezha helping them escape possibly?)

That was so good! I can’t wait for the actual proper release for better audio quality and more importantly MORE EPISODES!!

[rafikisboy]

🍦🥥 and 🍒with Rafiki! :)

🍦 - what's your f/o's favorite way to show affection? are there any little things they do to indicate their appreciation for you? Rafiki likes to show his affection a lot of the time by Bothering! Affectionate mischief is a trait that we both share, actually, so we've got a bit of a cut-up routine going when it's just the two of us! And he knows that I've gone a long time without being touched, and that I crave it badly, so he's always keeping an eye out for reasons to give me a pat or a hug or a tousle throughout the day, which I really appreciate (even if he also uses it as an excuse to be aggravating) x3c ~~~~~~~~~~~~

🥥 - talk about a memorable moment in your relationship. Ooh! Well, it depends on which s/i I'm using, so...I'll use Bakari (the mandrill) for this one! <3 Pretty early on in my apprenticeship (a couple of weeks or so), I happened to be walking past Rafiki and caught a glimpse of him from an angle that I hadn't before, and I realized, very suddenly, that he was looking kind of scruffy; his fur was tousled and he had leaves and bits of things all stuck in his hair, like he hadn't been groomed in a while. Which led me to ask if he had an actual troupe when he wasn't tutoring me (he did not/does not). That's extremely unusual for a mandrill, and not exactly healthy, because we're a very social species and we need to groom and be groomed by each other, for our mental and physical health. So I offered to fix his fur for him, and although he seemed a little embarrassed, he agreed to let me! That was the first time we really just sat down face-to-face and touched one another, and it was the first moment we really began to bond-- both as student and teacher and also just as friends! :3 ~~~~~~~~~~~ 🍒 - what is your f/o's love language, and how do they express it with you? If we're going by the generally agreed-upon Love Languages (Touch, Gift-Giving, etc) I would say that his is Quality Time! We're each others' troupe, basically, so we just like to spend as much time as we can just existing in the same space; painting together, eating together, observing the other animals, and taking naps in the sun with each other!

While he doesn't mind being alone sometimes, no one likes to be lonely...and I think it's a bit of a relief to him, especially when I first move in, to have somebody around to dote on and teach and talk to on a regular basis. (And he knows that I do not like being alone, and takes steps to make sure that I'm never left unaccompanied for long, even if sometimes the lions are the ones who end up needing to 'babysit' me, lmao)

[catboyantichrist]

hi! may i please request the brothers with an MC who's cat came with them to the Devildom?

the cat is very loud and very mischievous but also very sweet :)

bonus cat photos:

thank you so much!! have a wonderful day and good luck with the new blog!

BHJFLHRAUGARL YOUR CAT IS ADORABLE- they deserve the best out of this world. You have a good day too ^^ and thank you!

☆The Brothers Living With GN!MC's Cat☆

Let's paint the scene. You just got home after a long day, and you just wanted to forget everything that happened. You decided to spend time with your precious cat! Sadly the little shit decided to scratch you and all of the furniture around you.

"Can we just have one calm day?" You yelled out at your cat. The cat doesn't give a response and just decides to jump off of the fridge they resided on.

You caught your cat and was about to give them the lecture of a lifetime (as if they could listen) when suddenly you stumble back. You, and your cat both land on the floor of RAD.

It's been a few months. You and your cat both live in the House of Lamentation. Your cat has never been more well behaved. I guess cats do belong in Hell, cause (most) of the brothers adore them. This is some of the things you've caught the brothers doing with your cat.

Lucifer:

-"Is that... a cat? Why must Diavolo never warn me about these things."

-Lucifer is frustrated. I mean you can even see his eye twitching slightly if you look fast enough. He's been telling Satan for centuries that he isn't allowed to get a cat, and now there's one here. Another responsibility to look after.

-That frustrated with your cat lasts a total of 2 weeks, until he actually connects with the cat? He's like the Dad who never wanted a pet and then loves them the most.

-He keeps tons of cat toys in his office, and a special cat bed so that there's somewhere where they can hide if the brothers are fighting for their attention. Of course, MC is always welcome to do the same.

Mammon:

-"AHHHH SOMEBODY HELP! THE GREAT MAMMON IS GETTING ATTACKED!!"

-Mammon's not getting attacked, your cat is just playing with the feathered keychain on his belt.

-It takes Mammon a minute, but eventually he understands what the cat is doing.

-"Not on my watch! How dare ya play with my precious keychain!". Mammon gives in almost immediately once your cat scratches him.

-Your cat and Mammon have some sort of rivalry going on, as Mammon will continuously hide objects from your cat that they're trying to steal.

-Mammon will also try to take pictures of your cat asleep so that he can sell them. One time he found you sleeping with your cat, and immediately got jealous. I swear you could even see the cat make a face similar to a smirk

-"I'm their first ya hear?! You wont get away with this!"

-Make sure to treat Mammon and your cat equally, they'll eventually make a truce and get along

Leviathan:

-"Don't let that little normie anywhere NEAR my fish!"

-Yeah um... Levi isn't a huge fan of your cat. Mainly because they tried to eat Henry once and it traumatized the both of them.

-Although Levi and your cats relationship started to mend once he saw them annoy the crap out of Mammon. Of course he recorded it and uploaded it to DevilTube!

-When the video went viral, an idea stuck Levi, he helps Asmo run your cat's Devilgram, but Levi mainly uploads videos of your cat attacking Mammon.

-One time Lucifer made Levi come to school for a student council meeting and he took that as the opportunity to bring your cat to school to scare other demons.

-Levi isn't required to go to school for anything anymore.

Satan:

-It is taking all of Satan's power not to spontaneously combust at the sight out of your cat. First of all, it's a cat second, Lucifer will go INSANE at the sight of this. Or well, he will overtime.

-Definitely tries to spend the most time with your cat, mainly by hanging out with you. At first he was just using you for the cat but overtime he started enjoying your company more and more.

-Did... did Lucifer connect with the cat? Satan is devastated. You're probably going to have to spend a few days with Satan and cheer him up, preferably by dates to the library? 😏

-Well there's no problem anyways, after one of the dates you and Satan went on, your cat came rushing to Satan. Did this make him tear up a bit? Maybe, but he knew your cat loved him!

-Which of course they do, but I think they loved the food in Satan's pocket a bit more.

Asmodeus:

-Congratulations! Your cat is now the centerpiece of Asmo's new outfits. They're perfect for the aesthetic he's wanting to go for anyways.

-He will spend tons of time caring for your cat, and also buying them accessories! Sometimes... a bit much. You'll see your cat waddling around with a massive sweater on them sometimes.

-Asmo now brings a fur roller everywhere he goes. He finds your cat absolutely adorable! But the cat fur not so much. He will not hesitate to completely bar off his room if he has too. What if one of his future admirers come to his room and are allergic to cats!

-Asmo does enjoy cuddling with you and your cat of course! After all he would get to spend time with two adorable creatures!

Beelzebub:

-Beel no. Don't eat the cat!!

-It doesn't take long for Beel to catch on that the cat isn't food, and once he does he immediately gets attached to the small creature. He always makes sure that your cat is well fed.

-Although sometimes a bit too well fed, you know he means well but you're gonna have to teach him how much food is okay for a human world cat to eat.

-Playing with the cat is so much fun! If your cat wasn't active before, they are now. Beel's cheery attitude even puts your cat in a good mood! Although he did try to take your cat on a walk once... never again.

Belphegor:

-Two words. Cuddle buddy. Normally your cat is fine with cuddling, but sometimes Belphie's death grip is hard to handle. If your not careful you can hear your cats faint meows for mercy as Belphie is latched onto the cat for dear life.

-Obviously he's not hurting the cat, he tries to be as gentle as possible but unlike Belphie, the cat doesn't sleep 24/7.

-One night Belphie turned on his star projector in his room and noticed your cat bouncing around trying to scratch/eat the stars. He now likes to turn on the projector and move it around to let your cat play. Extra points because it requires minimal effort.

-If he finds you and your cat cuddling while asleep he will join you. The cat doesn't dare to even try and scratch him because even they know that Belphie gives no mercy.

[tragedykery]

alright who wants to hear me ramble about aang & ty lee’s relationship

okay. so. during canon they obviously don’t interact much (other than fighting and even then they fight others from their respective groups) but after the war (and after ty lee has worked through her nationalism & imperialism etc) I think they have such potential to be besties.

they’re both cheerful optimists but while aang is genuinely like that, ty lee’s personality is just a façade, so I think it would be interesting to see how that would play out. would ty lee keep up her mask or would she just Be Herself? (whatever that self is. at what point can you still distinguish the mask from the wearer etc etc).

they would have a lot of fun together, pulling shenanigans and helping out people (aang asks ty lee to come along and, like with everything, she comes because it seems fun. her moral compass is surrounded by magnets and distributing food and supplies in a town hit by a natural disaster & causing chaos by manipulating people for laughs have the same place on the spectrum of “how likely is it for ty lee to do this”, which ranges from “listening to zuko rant about whatever has upset his royal majesty this time” to “less likely to bore her to death” (like listening to mai poke fun at said rants.) (words related to morality are not, in fact, to be be found on that spectrum.) aang tries to make sure her powers are used for good instead of Whatever she does when she’s bored, so asking her to help out with his restoration of the air temples it is.)

I also like to think that, post-canon, ty lee would get into spirituality a bit. aang teaches her meditation, and soon, their shenanigan-committing is moved to the spirit world. they befriend lots of spirits together. I think ty lee would also be interested in the stories of aang’s adventures before the war and air nomad culture and customs (this would be especially meaningful if you headcanon her as having air nomad heritage.) aang turns out to be a great storyteller, and he loves having somebody he can talk to about the past. not that others don’t, but ty lee is a good listener and loves asking questions.

they bake together (pies become their specialty; they always turn up at others’ doors with full boxes because they made too many). they go foraging, but vow to never go again when they almost die from eating poisonous berries (thank the spirits for the fact that sokka and katara were nearby). (they go again like a month after that. this time, though, they take toph and suki and sokka with them.) they have sleepovers & paint their nails together. they wake up early and go for hiking before breakfast because they are, unfortunately, Like That. ty lee is aang’s judge/food tester/guinea pig when he invents countless recipes with lychee nuts as main ingredient (leading, with sokka’s help, to the invention of sorbet ice cream.) they braid appa’s hair and do it all over again a week later, now complete with hair decorations. (they try to do the same to momo but he is, unfortunately, a less willing test subject. well, it’s not like he has much fur anyway.)

they have philosophical conversations at 3 a.m. and end up with notes only they can comprehend. they dress up as each other. they ride the elephant koi at kyoshi island (or maybe only aang does. ty lee lives there and has heard enough stories about the unagi, so she’s more than okay with standing off to the side just yelling encouragement at him.) aang is the guinea pig for ty lee’s make-up experiments. pranking zuko is one of their fave pastimes. they do acrobatics together. nobody can withstand the assault that is their combined puppy eyes when they’re trying to get something they want.

[bumirang]

Turtle, Duck, Dragon, Horse: Ch. 8 excerpt

It’s a chilly afternoon when Bumi sits in on Hana’s worst training session since she arrived at Air Temple Island.

Under Jinora’s supervision, she and six other novitiates were walking the circle in a coordinated effort to create a sphere of solid wind nearly twice her height. Intimidating, but she’d managed it before. She actually wasn’t doing too terribly, until she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe it was excitement or performance anxiety or just the distraction, but that’s when it all went wrong. She immediately fell out of step with the others, but the more she tried to correct for it, the more unstable their formation became, until the sphere was a roiling squall-ball they were struggling just to contain.

Master Jinora stepped forward and summoned a gust with thought alone. “That’s, uh, impressive, but if you’ll slow down and back away, I can safely disper—”

Then it exploded, with a roar like a thunderclap in reverse. Thankfully, they were shielded from the worst of it by a barrier whipped up by their teacher, but it was a close thing.

Hana’s ears are still ringing when she makes in Bumi’s direction, ignoring the accusatory glances from her fellow novitiates. It’s obvious to all of them who messed things up, but they can’t prove anything, so whatever. Bumi, in contrast, just waves happily, absentmindedly petting Bum-Ju on his shoulder.

She stops five feet away from him and plants her hands on her hips. “What’re you doing here?”

“Hi to you, too,” he replies, slightly offended.

“Sorry, that sounded… I mean, did you need me for something?”

“Nope.”

“So, what, you popped by to watch me be a screw-up?”

“Well, I like to get a feel for where the newbies’re at. Didn’t think you’d be out with ‘em.”

She deflates a bit. “You saw how hopeless I am. I’ll be stuck with the newbies forever at this rate.”

“Nooo, no… Your bending’s just, uh, chaotic.” His smile is wide but not very convincing. Oh no. He’s trying to be nice. Her face burns at the realization. Pity is the last thing she wants from him, of all people.

He continues, “Form was great, though. Right, buddy?” He glances at the dragonfly-bunny, who shrugs. “Yeah, he thinks so, too.”

“…Thanks.” She stares past him, at the ground, wishing she were anywhere else. At the same time, Bumi’s easily her favorite person on Air Temple Island, and it’s usually such a treat being the focus of his attention. If only she could be anything other than a pathetic misfit in his eyes.

He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, kid, don’t get hung up on it. We’ll figure it out.” His voice has gone all serious, worried.

“You don’t have to… be nice to me.”

“…Huh?”

“Because you feel sorry for me. I don’t want…” She feels her eyes flood with hot tears. In a panic, she slaps a hand over her face, harder than she intended. “Ow.”

Bumi clears his throat and calls over her head, across the courtyard, “Hey, Jinora, gonna steal Hana for a bit!”

“Oh, we’re all done!” she calls back, sounding less rattled than she probably feels. “No theft required.”

“Great! Seeya at dinner!” His hand slides down to Hana’s arm, sending a wave of goosebumps shivering along her shoulders and neck. She almost jumps when he mutters into her ear, “I know a good place to talk. No lookie-loos.”

Then they’re hurtling through the air, and she forgets about her shame for a sweet thirty seconds. His grip on her arm is firm, but she latches onto him anyway. Just survival instinct, she reminds herself, as she hears him laugh with her ear against his chest. He wraps an arm around her then, and she feels safer than she ever did on the ground.

Bumi sets them down in a little grassy clearing on the eastern edge of the island. It’s not far from one of his favorite places to have class, but without any obvious paths to it, you’d have to survey the island from the air to even know it exists. Or just know its layout like the back of your hand. It’s late afternoon, leaving most of it in the shade from nearby trees. What sunlight there is glows gold on dead grass. Framed by two stunted trees jutting from the cliff’s edge is the skyline of Republic City, painted gold as the grass. Bumi pulls a little ta-dah pose in front of it, which gets a smile out of her.

“That’s more like it,” he says, wearing his own smug grin. “Now what was that about you not wanting me to be nice?”

“I just meant…” She grasps at the air, like the words she needs to complete her thought are buzzing around her. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to go out of your way. For me.” It seems like a moot point now.

“Why not you?”

“I’m not cut out for this. You’re wasting your time.”

He laughs softly to himself and crosses his arms. For a moment, Hana’s terrified that he might be mocking her, but when he looks back up at her, his eyes are kind, and a little sad. “I know how ya feel,” he says with a shrug.

“How could you poss—”

Bumi just raises an eyebrow at her, and she slaps her hand over her face again. It stings worse than the first time, but she figures she deserves that.

“Fu— Nngh! I’m such an—” Hana drops down onto her haunches, holding her throbbing face in both hands. Maybe with enough pressure, she can shove the tears and snot back where they belong. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

She hears him sit down across from her. “M’not mad, kid. Like I said, I’ve been where you are. More or less.” She steals a glance at him, seated maybe a foot away and wearing the city itself like his own personal aura. “I see you busting your ass to do what comes so easy to others, and I know what that does to ya. Shame and doubt. Anger. A lot of anger. It can make ya feel worthless…”

She nods and eases into a cross-legged sit, mirroring him.

“S’not true, though. Everyone’s worth something. You’re worth a lot. Trust me, I’ve got an eye for talent.” Bum-Ju, who’s been hovering at a respectful distance, picks that moment to park himself on her head. “See? So does he.”

Hana wipes her runny nose, trying to hide it at first, but Bumi’s expression is so genuinely affable that she feels silly for thinking he might judge her. He’s on her side. A goopy face won’t change that. For lack of better options, she wipes up with a sleeve.

Hands dry, she reaches up, tentatively, to pet the dragonfly-bunny. “Is it okay if I…?”

“That’s up to him.”

The spirit doesn’t flee at her touch. In fact, he leans into it. She gasps as she runs her fingers through his fur, which is easily the softest, silkiest texture she’s ever felt, like yarn spun from cloudstuff. To her surprise, he gives a happy little chirrup and plops into her lap, landing on his back.

“He says to tell you he wants belly rubs.”

“Heh. Okay.” Petting Bum-Ju is supremely soothing, like lemonade on a summer’s day. His quiet little chirps merge and blend into a purr, and she smiles again. How could she not?

“It… It’s humiliating. I knew training wasn’t gonna be easy, but this is like being a little kid all over again.” She runs a finger along the edge of one of the spirit’s strange insectoid wings. Like the fur, it doesn’t feel entirely substantial. “I was supposed to be an earthbender, y’know.”

“Yeah? Says who?”

“…My dad.”

“Hah! Ain’t that always the way?”

“Heh…”

“You don’t give me earthbender vibes at all. You’re too… squishy.”

Her head shoots up to glare at him, and she notices how the sunlight’s shifted since they arrived. Twilight’s creeping up fast. “Did you just call me squishy?”

She’s caught him off-guard, and he blushes at the unflattering implications of such a word choice. “That’s to say… Well, the way rocks aren’t, right? Does that make sense?”

“No…?”

“You’re, I dunno, airy.”

“So I’m squishy like air…?”

Bumi runs a hand through his hair in actual frustration. “Forget I said you were squishy!” He looks relieved when she giggles and clues him into her teasing.

“My point being,” she continues blithely, “I may be the worst airbender here, but I had no earth talent whatsoever. Dad was not pleased. I never even wanted to do it, except to please him.”

“Sorry.”

“I have a little brother, though, and he’s brilliant with earth. Stone, glass, metal. You name it. Guess it worked out for Dad in the end, but I always… Even though it was crazy, I always wanted to fly. Not in an airship, but like the birds do. It never seemed fair.” She winces at how naive that sounds. “After Harmonic Convergence, I thought, y’know, finally. This is who I’m supposed to be.” Sympathy fills the lines around Bumi’s eyes and mouth, and she looks back down at the fuzzy spirit in her lap. She gives him some experimental chin scritches, which seem to go over well. “But it’s been more than three months now, and I’m still… I’m just a screw-up.”

“You’re the best teaching assistant I’ve ever had.”

Hana blinks. “Aren’t I the only one you’ve ever had?”

“Nah, I used to spend summers teaching new recruits arts ‘n’ crafts.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Says somebody who has no idea how boring it can get on a tour of duty! Keeping your hands busy staves off Sea Madness. And fistfights… Well, that is until somebody badmouths another guy’s macramé. I’ve been called as a witness at some crazy court martials, lemme tell ya.”

“I… Wow, okay. I guess you’d know.”

“And before I forget, let’s get one thing clear,” says Bumi, leaning forward and pointing right in her face. “I like being around you. Aren’t we friends?”

What’s the appropriate response to that? “You… friend… with me?” Well, it’s definitely not that. “I guess I didn’t… I thought you were just trying to figure me out. What’s wrong with me, I mean.”

“That, too, but hey! We have fun, right?”

“Yeah?”

“There ya go! Friends!”

She laughs. She can’t help it. Seeing the way Bumi’s face lights up only makes her laugh harder. Bum-Ju launches clear of her lap as she doubles over. Collapsed on the grass, she finally admits, “Okay! We’re friends! I guess!”

“So…” Only when she sees his shoulders relax does Hana realize how tense he’s been this whole time. “You always wanted to fly, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. More than anything. Thought I could grow up to be a bird if I put in the effort, but I was forced to develop an overactive imagination instead.”

“Sounds like a fun story.”

She pushes herself back into a sitting position and picks bits of grass out of her hair. She could do with a trim, now that she’s thinking about it. “Not a whole lot to tell. I was basically a toddler, and I don’t remember much.”

“Yeah?” Bumi’s grinning at her. He grins a lot, to be fair, but he has a different style for every occasion. Goofball, smart-ass, encouraging, nervous, and so on. This is a pure look of amused contentment, just for her. It makes her feel all gooey inside, but in a nice way, no snot involved.

“Hm. Well, okay. Mom did tell me about one time she found me eating worms out of the garden.”

“Hah! What’d it taste like?”

“Slimy dirt, probably? I only know it happened from Mom. Like I said, toddler.”

Bumi scratches his neck and looks off to the side, like he’s debating something with himself, then says, “I jumped off cliffs a lot.”

“Wow. Dark.”

“Into the water! Got pretty good at climbing. Diving, too, but that’s just, y’know, falling with style.”

“Umbrellas.” He looks at her expectantly, eyes glittering like chips of ice. They might be the palest she’s ever seen, and if they aren’t the most beautiful, they’re definitely in the top five. That’s a strange thought. Despite his age, he’s actually quite handsome. In fact, the wrinkles themselves emphasize his features in a way she didn’t realize she appreciated until just now. They tell a story of a life well-lived.

A quirk of his eyebrows reminds her that she’s in the middle of a conversation, during which she’s just said “umbrellas” and stared at him for ten seconds.

“W-well. Um. I saw this character in a storybook who flew around with an umbrella, so I found the biggest one I could and ran down the street, screaming my head off the whole time.” Hana feels herself blush at the admission. “That part seemed important for some reason. I was, like, five.”

“How’d that go?”

“As I recall, I broke the umbrella, and several people called the cops. They thought I was escaping from a murderer or something. Can’t imagine why.”

Bumi just laughs. Hana revels in it until he quiets enough to keep telling him embarrassing things about herself.

“Then there was the time I spent a month collecting loose feathers around my neighborhood and stuffed them all in my shirt,” she says, with a bit of added pantomime. “Was gonna jump out the apartment window, but I chickened out.”

“So… it worked?”

“Shut up. You are horrible, and I hate you now.”

“Minus 57 points for disrespecting your elder.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault they dress me like a giant baby.” She tugs at a corner of the scarlet shawl sewn around the shoulders of her standard-issue Air Nomad pajamas. They both snicker.

Then Bumi sits up straight like he’s been struck by lightning. “I got it!”

“Hm?”

“A wingsuit. Try one on!”

“That’s not really allowed unless you’ve qualified, though.”

“Eh, if you get in trouble, I’ll smooth it over,” he says with a little hand wave. “It could be just the confidence boost you need to get over whatever mental block is tripping you up.” He gestures at his own outfit. “Think about it. The right uniform can totally change how you see yourself. And I should know.”

“That’s a good point, but…” Hana shrugs and makes various non-committal noises. What she doesn’t mention is her discomfort at the snugness of the wingsuit’s fit. As ridiculous as the pajamas look on her, they’re at least loose and comfortable. Squeezing into a skintight flight suit to practice—probably clumsily as ever—is just another humiliation waiting to happen. It does give her an idea, though.

“Remember when I told you how I’ve had a bit of Kyoshi Warrior training?” she asks with a little smirk.

“I remember you not flipping me, even after I asked nicely.”

“Well, I might still have my fan lying around somewhere…”

[aion-rsa]

Where in Fiction Would You Spend Christmas?

https://ift.tt/34FuLCB

It’s been a staying-in kind of year. That New Year’s Resolution you made to travel more? It’s gained 20 pounds, started cutting its own hair and is now in a jigsaw club with your neighbour Ken. The only marathon you’ve completed in 2020 is a Battlestar Galactica rewatch. The only mountain you’ve climbed is the metaphorical one it takes to shower daily. That beach trip you’d planned? It went okay actually. You made some bells by selling coconuts to Nook’s Cranny and dug up a bunch of Manila Clams with a flimsy shovel.

For obvious reasons, escape is on our minds this year more than most. So we started thinking, if you had your wishing socks on, where in the collected imaginations of everyone who’s ever dreamt up a film, TV show, game or book, would you spend the holidays? On the holodeck of the Starship Enterprise or roasting on an open fire with The Simpsons, exchanging gifts with Ewoks or witnessing Scrooge McDuck’s transformation from miser to philanthropist first hand?  

To get things started, here’s what our writers picked…

Alec Bojalad would spend Christmas … reveling with the Sterling Cooper staff on Mad Men

If I’m to indulge this hypothetical in which I’m torn away from one reality and thrust into another, one thing is very clear: I will have to be extremely intoxicated to avoid my heart exploding from the stressful terror of it all. Thankfully, I know exactly where in pop culture to go to get absolutely blitzed: Mad Men. In terms of sheer debauchery, a Sterling Cooper Christmas party probably falls somewhere between a Bacchanalian orgy and Valhalla itself. As Don, Roger, Bert, Peggy, and company gather together to celebrate another successful year schmoozing clients and sexually harassing one another, I will don my finest 1960s attire and infiltrate the festive event. 

As Don Draper wonders who this soft-bodied weirdo in an ill-fitting suit is, I’ll catch up with Harry Crane about television. Then I’ll ask to see Bert Cooper’s weird tentacle porn painting. Sometime around my 9th J&B Whisky on the rocks I’ll visit the secretarial pool and beg them to demand better treatment because “you’ree ssssooo strong and eleganttt. Don’t listen to thessseee men. They’re Mad Men.” Hopefully I’ll be taken away to an old-timey hospital at that point, given electroshock treatment, and return back to my own continuity.  

Ryan Britt would spend Christmas… at Deanna and Will’s cabin from Star Trek: Picard

When Jean-Luc Picard uses the spatial projector to zap himself and Soji across the galaxy to the planet Nepethene, the result is a cozy pizza dinner with Will Riker, Deanna Troi and their daughter Kestra. For those who had been pining for more ‘90s nostalgia in this Trek series, the episode ‘Nepthene’ delivered, but with a strong shot of realism. Although Picard was written and created before the Covid-19 pandemic, the idea that Riker and Troi would leave the busy and crowded life of Starfleet, and retire in a remote cabin to protect their family is a choice many have actually faced in 2020. As people around the world have fled pandemic epicenters and tried to put shields around their own families, the peaceful and remote home of the Riker-Trois represents the optimistic ideal of Star Trek with a quiet, and very close-to-home twist. 

Spending time with the Riker-Troi family would mean great conversation, great music (oh the jazz!) and, above all, great food. I would happily put my own family in their ‘pod’ if only so Kestra could teach my three-year-old daughter the best way to construct a bow and arrow, and of course, how to learn that secret language of butterflies. 

Then, after the kids were in bed, having a glass of wine or some Romulan whiskey with Will out on the porch sounds pretty damn perfect. 2020 has been tough. A bear hug from Riker seems like the perfect Christmas gift of all. 

Caroline Preece would spend Christmas… at The Muppet Christmas Carol’s Penguin Skating Party

Ever since young-me set eyes on the ultra-festive world of The Muppet Christmas Carol I’ve wanted to visit. I can’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve than in the cuddly version of Dickens’ cautionary tale, helping Kermit and his co-workers tidy up Scrooge’s office for the holidays, dancing down the snowy London streets and attending the Penguins’ annual Christmas skating party as the ultimate topper to a perfect evening. 

As well as being super-merry and joyous (‘tis the season), judging by Kermit’s performance on the ice, they let anyone take part.

It could just be the general lack of socialising and festive frivolity in 2020, but Bob Cratchit’s hopeful walk home from the office (remember the office?!?) on the night before Christmas has always epitomised the idea that the anticipation of Christmas Day is the best part. Add to that a trip to the market to pick up some singing vegetables, or the cosy Cratchit dinner with Miss Piggy and their gaggle of pig and frog offspring, and it’s a version of old-timey festive cheer that will always hold a place in my heart.

Louisa Mellor would spend Christmas… with the strippers in Hustlers

This choice won’t reflect well on me. It’s neither edifying nor improving and has a core of savage capitalist consumerism, which is probably what makes it so Christmassy. Midway through Lorraine Scafaria’s Hustlers – a film about a group of strippers who right the wrongs of the 2008 financial crisis by drugging Wall Street guys to run up their company credit cards – there’s a scene that’d make anyone’s heart grow three sizes. 

A dozen lap dancers gather for Christmas in a high-end apartment, their daughters and a grandmother in tow. Dressed in luxe loungewear and chunky gold, their skin glowing like a sucked butterscotch, they swap gifts, smile and sing and dance and thank the lord for their sisters. Expensive elegance is everywhere. Someone gets a fur coat, somebody else a pair of animal-print Louboutins. The woman who dips the dancers’ tits in bowls of ice before they go on stage is given an iPhone 4. Mostly though, they give each other affirmation. Without a natural hair colour, nude fingernail or a man in sight, it’s a dream family Christmas. Picture a Norman Rockwell painting with Jennifer Lopez in gold lamé, a cashmere Santa hat and a balcony bra. Feel-good festive perfection. 

Michael Ahr would spend Christmas… secluded in Hogwarts

Some may have found Harry Potter’s winter holidays without his friends rather lonely, but I can think of nothing more magical than having the vast empty halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry all to myself. Why let the staff have the warm, dry, magical snow that fell annually in the Great Hall all to themselves? Not being of school age myself anymore, I might choose to share a butterbeer (or perhaps a hot buttered rum) with Dumbledore and Hagrid by a roaring fire.

I might even be tempted to make the trip to Hogsmeade to see all the shops decked out with lights and blanketed in snow. I’d still be able to enjoy the comparative solitude without all the kids running around, but I’m almost certain there would be a group of carolers wandering about the square, never mind the singing enchanted suits of armor back at the school. And of course, if I could pick a particular present, I’d choose to receive the same amazing gift Harry received that first Christmas from Dumbledore: his father’s Invisibility Cloak. I’d likewise pass it along as a family heirloom to my own children on some Christmas morning to come.

Jamie Andrew would spend Christmas… in a Deep Space Nine Holosuite

At first, I entertained the idea of spending Christmas in Baltimore with the denizens of The Wire, mainly because I liked the idea of children running up and down the streets hollering, ‘Omar’s coming!’ moments before the shotgun-wielding Robin Hood of the Hood came swaggering down the street wearing a big red coat and a white beard, tossing out bank notes and whistling ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’. Then I realised that the chances of me ending up a corpse inside a boarded-up derelict building before the turkey was even cooked were surprisingly high, so I thought I’d try Christmas with Frasier Crane and family instead. Unfortunately, my foreknowledge of Martin’s and Eddie’s deaths would cloud the occasion, and I’d probably spend all night slumped crying in Martin’s recliner, unable to tell anyone why I was so upset without violating the temporal time directive. 

Best, then, to spend Yule time on Deep Space Nine. Christianity and its associated festive traditions don’t appear to exist in the 24th Century, so after saying hello to Sisko and co., and maybe playing a bit of Dabo at Quark’s, I’d probably spend the rest of my time in a faithful Holosuite reproduction of a 1990s Irish bar on New Year’s Eve getting absolutely wasted with fellow Celt Chief O’Brien. Now THAT’S what I call Christmas. 

Juliette Harrisson would spend Christmas… in Narnia

Not, of course, the White Witch’s eternal winter, when it’s always winter but never Christmas, but a regular Christmas in Narnia. It would, of course, be a white Christmas because otherwise, how would Father Christmas come and deliver presents to everyone? So I could spend the season in a snowy woodland surrounded by magical creatures, and be in with a chance of a really good present. Or possibly a sewing machine.

Read more

Movies

Why Chronicles of Narnia’s Santa Claus Celebrates Christmas with Weapons of War

By Juliette Harrisson

Movies

The Rod Serling Christmas Movie You Never Saw

By Chris Farnell

On the first moonlit night when there’s snow on the ground, Narnian fauns, dryads, and dwarfs perform the Great Snow Dance, with the fauns and dryads dancing around while the dwarfs throw snowballs that don’t hit them (an often forgotten detail from the book version of The Silver Chair!). I would join in, although possibly not throw any snowballs as my aim isn’t that good. Then I’d go back to Mr Tumnus’s for sardines and cake on Christmas Eve and talk to him about his somewhat dubious taste in books (just what is Nymphs And Their Ways about, eh Tumnus?). I’d spend Christmas Day up at the castle of Cair Paravel, eating and drinking like a Queen, and then I’d go visit Mr and Mrs Beaver on Boxing Day for a feast of leftovers and maybe a little light ice fishing.

John Saavedra would spend Christmas…celebrating Life Day with Star Wars’ Poe Dameron 

No one has ever cared so much about Life Day, the Star Wars galaxy’s own version of Christmas, as much as ace pilot Poe Dameron does in the Lego Star Wars Holiday Special. From decorating the Millennium Falcon and choosing the right Life Day sweater to roasting the traditional tip-yip (also known as Endorian chicken), Poe shows there’s something much stronger than the Force in the Star Wars universe: holiday spirit. Who knew the Resistance hero best known for his knack at blowing stuff up had such a soft spot? 

Hanging with Poe on Life Day would mean chestnuts roasting on an open exhaust engine, drinking whatever passes for cocoa in the Star Wars galaxy, hanging out with Wookiees on their homeworld of Kashyyyk, singing festive carols in Huttese, and finding just the right Life Day tree for the Falcon. It’d also mean dancing to the hip tunes of Max Rebo’s drum (the rest of his band is unfortunately no longer with us) and partying with Lando Calrissian, Finn, Rose, Rey, Jannah, Mon Calamari, Jawas, Rodians, Ewoks, and maybe even Chewie’s son Lumpy. If you’re not sold by now, your taste in holiday parties might be bantha poodoo. 

Elizabeth Donoghue would spend Christmas…. at The Office’s Classy Christmas

Dunder Mifflin has many memorable Christmas parties, but Steve Carell’s final festive special includes some of my favourite things about The Office; weird Gabe, Michael’s enduring hatred of Toby, and Michael and Holly’s adorable relationship.

After Toby announces he is taking a leave of absence for jury duty (‘Thank you, Scranton Strangler. I love you. You just took one more person’s breath away’) Michael learns that Holly will be returning to Scranton and demands that Pam’s regular Christmas party must get classy. What makes a Christmas classy? A backwards Kangol-esque Santa hat, a red velvet smoking jacket and a quarter of a jazz quartet of course.

I would actively enjoy watching Dwight take down Jim in their snowball fight (total bully, needs to be taken down a peg or two), get drunk with Kelly and Meredith, dance with Phyllis and Erin and learn more about the enigma that is Creed. And although it is slightly more subdued than their Benihana and Moroccan Christmas parties, I’m sure we could keep the party going at a Poor Richard’s after-party.

Kayti Burt would spend Christmas … on Themyscira

The Amazons’ decision to opt out of the “Patriarch’s World” has always been a relatable one, but never so much as in The Year 2020. Historically, I’m not really a beach person, but Themyscira, aka Paradise Island, has a lot going for it: warm weather, a supportive community, and live sporting events where you don’t have to worry about some drunken dudebro spilling cheap beer on your toga. 

As far as I can tell from the Wonder Woman movies, no one (besides Young Diana, who’s usually working through some stuff) ever seems to be having a bad time on Themyscira. And why would you? The pre-Crisis comics incarnation of the island (which I am going to choose to accept as my holiday canon) includes indigeneous kangaroo-like creatures called Kangas that the Amazons ride like horses. Diana’s is called Jumpa; mine will be called Jimmy Hoppa, and we will explore the island’s cascading waterfalls and cliffside terraces together. In the evenings, I will attend performances at the Themysciran amphitheater with my new Amazonian friends or, if I’m feeling introverted, catch up on my book reading and crossword puzzles.

Listen, I wouldn’t want to spend forever on Themyscira—I’d miss my friends, family, and TV shows (Themyscira doesn’t seem to get a good wireless signal)—but a few weeks (or months, especially as I will be quarantining for my first two weeks) for Christmas 2020? Bring me to the enchanted feminist utopia.

Alana Joli Abbott would spend Yule… at the coven house from the Nightcraft Quartet

Witchkind, as presented in Shannon Page’s Nightcraft Quartet, don’t celebrate Christmas, but they do love a good Yuletide celebration. Page’s witches and warlocks are separate from humans, long lived, and magical. Young witches train in the magical arts at a coven house, living there like a dorm; the adult women of the coven (always numbering thirteen) may be involved in scientific research (like protagonist Callie), medicine and healing, or reading Tarot, and they teach their specialties to the young witches. The coven house is a central place where women gather to live, to practice magic together, to celebrate, and to honor traditional rituals. While Callie’s coven in San Francisco has their problems, the community there is caring and genuine, full of both youthful energy and centuries of experienced witchery. 

One of the perks of editing this series is that I get sneak peeks into parts of the story readers haven’t seen yet—including Yule decorations. Rather than cutting down dead trees, witches coax living fir boughs to weave along the walls and mantles, accented with red ribbon and gold—coins, beads, chains. I can imagine the cozy San Francisco coven house filled with witches all rushing to perform their tasks to make the perfect celebration, some of them convincing the fir boughs to expand in just the right ways while others brew hot chocolate or prepare the feast. I picture them eating in the large hall, voices lifted in joyful chatter, and then making their way out to the grounds beyond the house to celebrate beneath the stars, singing midwinter songs and looking forward to the next year. After months of 2020 with smaller communities and less human contact, being surrounded by such a vibrant, magical group of women sounds like just the right way to end my year.

Rosie Fletcher would spend Christmas… with the Roy family from Succession

Go hard or go home, they say, so since I can’t go home this year, I’m going round the Roys. That is, of course, the family at the centre of Succession, a show peopled by the very wealthiest and utterly worst. Festivities would be held at the home of patriarch Logan Roy. His children and their partners would be obliged to attend. Logan would hire a chef to cook, waiting staff to serve, some of whom he would abuse. I would give them sympathetic “I’m sorry” looks but do nothing, secretly thankful Logan’s ire wasn’t focused on me. 

In all likelihood I would be a figure like Greg (the egg), or Tom Wambsgans – mostly tolerated, vaguely despised and very much the second class citizens of the Roy clan, skulking on the periphery as Kendall, Roman and Shiv compete for Logan’s love and oldest son Connor comes up will another entirely ridiculous life plan – I dunno, maybe this year he’s decided that his next career move is to become Santa Claus. 

The food would be extraordinary. The booze the very finest – how long before, like Greg, I would be claiming the bottle of vintage rose champagne I had just motored through was ‘not my favourite’? And the dinner table conversation would be electric. Electric like an electric shock – sharp, painful, disorientating, unexpected. 

So Christmas has become too commercialised? Fine, fuck it. I’ll take the eye-wateringly expensive gift that’s grudgingly bestowed on me, I will gorge on the finest cheeses known to man and coat my tongue with port made from molten rubies, knowing I am on my way to moral bankruptcy and doing it anyway. Go hard or go home…

Kirsten Howard would spend Christmas… singing along in the closing moments of Scrooged 

You’d be hard-pressed to find a Christmas movie that feels as genuinely uplifting during its climax as 1988’s Scrooged. Bill Murray’s arrogant TV boss Frank Cross, having been visited by the Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present and Future, disrupts a live broadcast of A Christmas Carol to rant openly and honestly at the cast and crew (and eventually you) as he makes a passionate case for a life less invested in exploitation and capitalism, and eventually kicks off a collective singalong of Annie Lennox and Al Green’s version of ‘Put a Little Love in Your Heart’.

That’s where I’d like to be this Christmas. Not just to sing along with Bill, but to be around people immediately swept along by the much-less-explored altruistic route of ‘no fucks given’. 

Also hanging out with Bill Murray, though, of course.

So much of the last few years has been a public race to the bottom of Nothing Matters Mountain, but even if it hadn’t all been so demoralising and forced so many of us to reevaluate our priorities, Frank’s message of redemption in love and living as well as we can, while shrugging off our own heavy expectations of success, still feels really special. 

This Christmas, there is light at the end of the tunnel. We may not be able to grab the nearest stranger and sing “put a little love in your heart!” at them right now, but we CAN carry that feeling with us into 2021. As Frank says: “There are people who are having trouble making their miracle happen”. We can always try and find time to stop focusing on our own for a while and to help them.

David Crow would spend Christmas… chilling with Harold and Kumar

Not many people are aware of this, but A Very Harold and Kumar Christmas is the best Harold and Kumar. It may not have the pop culture cache of their medicinal-fueled quest for mini-cheeseburgers, but it does have something very special, indeed: Wafflebot. If you’ve had the misfortune of living your life oblivious to Wafflebot’s existence, allow me to introduce you to a greater world of wonder and magic.

Wafflebot is the best Christmas present to ever come out of Santa’s Workshop. Displaying an eerily sophisticated artificial intelligence for a toy meant only to cook delicious breakfasts, Wafflebot can make you waffles any time by just popping the top and letting that batter drop. But he can also do so much more! Vaguely aware of the concept of friendship, this brunching Frankenstein can learn how to love and appreciate his owners… and defend them from any threat with scalding hot projectile syrup!

With the ability to serve breakfast, save your life, be manipulated into dangerous attack mode, and learn how to see the real you, all while playing a mean drum solo, Wafflebot would make any Christmas a sweetly warm experience. And then Harold and Kumar, and I could also steal a Christmas tree from NPH or something.

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[motleycrueimagine]

This Ain’t a Love Song - Part Two - Nikki Sixx FanFiction

Words count:  1142

Warinings: Language, Alcohol, Theft (?)

N/A: Hi! Okay so here you have part two, hope you all like it. If you wanna be added to the taglist please let me know :)

Huge thanks to @blonde-shamrock and @samanthadegaro

Summary: Maya Prescott has done anything possible to fix her life. It was 1977 when she left her groupie life: no more parties, no more concerts, no more drugs, alcohol or casual sex, just to achieve a full standard life. Now it’s 1981 and after a four years disappearance  Maya Prescott unexpectedly shows up to the party of one of the most promising emerging bands of the LA’s rock’n roll scene: Motley Crue. But what should be her last ride is destined to change her life in so many unexpected ways.

TagList: @babygal-babygal

Masterlist

As every other night we were having a party, that Friday made no exception. After the show at Whiskey we all had moved to the Motley House. Somebody had stolen our booze from our rooms, so Tommy and I were trying to figure out how to find free alcohol. After a good thirty-five minutes of intense reasoning, Tommy came up with the idea of the century.

“Look look, Vince’s chick always brings her fancy wine cause she’s too cool to drink our bad hooch” We looked at each other like two psycho twins.

“Her car.” We both said simultaneously.

Gloating and giggling we ran out of the apartment; Tommy slid down the handrail of the stairs, and then we went down to the main street searching for her cool Italian car. Of course, we were high, so it seemed like a good idea to break the window and steal a pair of bottles of something we did not even enjoy that much.

“I think you should do it - you have a mean left hook.” Of course we had to fight about who would have had to break the glass. It took a few minutes to finally choose that it would have been better for me to do it.

“What are you two doing?” A voice reached us, catching us in the middle of our attempted theft. A girl wrapped up in a huge pink fur coat walked towards us.

“Shit, we really needed a hooker to be our accomplice,” I mumbled puffing.

“Well Mr Ungrateful this hooker is going to save your fucking hand, so shut up and let me do it, Sixx.” The street lamp lit her face revealing that, since karma is a bitch, it was Maya.

“Go ahead,” Tommy invited.

Maya, tightening the cigarette between her lips, pulled a clip out of her hair, and then started bending it in order to make it straight. “Do you guys have a hairpin?” she asked looking at us. We both shook our heads. She looked at us in disapproval.

“Hold this,” She said giving Tommy the cigarette. “You were really thinking of breaking into this car by breaking the glass?” She questioned while taking off the hoop earrings she was wearing. She got down on her knees in front of the car door, and started trafficking with the lock.

“Sorry if we are not experienced craftsmen as you seem to be,” I stated out of frustration.

“I told you I know about stuff that matters.” It looked like she knew what she was doing. It took her about three minutes before she stood up looking at the door.

“Tell me again why you two needed to open this?” She asked taking back her cigarette.

“Tell me again why you know how to open a car with a clip?” I snapped back at her right before pulling the handle and opening the door.

“Whoa! This is amazing, you have to teach me how to do it!” Tommy exclaimed enthusiastically. The inside of the vehicle was messy: there was clothing lying around, shopping bags and of course a box of six wine bottles resting on the back seat.

I didn’t waste time, I grabbed it and pulled it out.

“Oh, so booze was your goal?” Maya didn’t seem impressed. She shut the door closed and removed her improvised tools from the lock. “I’ll get one for the trouble,” she stated grabbing a bottle and hiding it under the fur coat she was wearing.

I looked at her from head to toe. “May I ask you where are you supposed to go dressed like this?” I asked frowning my brows. There was a reason why I had mistaken her for a hooker. She was wearing a pair of booted heels - that weirdly resembled mine - fishnet tights, and a bright pink fur coat that Vince would have probably stolen as soon as he saw it. Her eye makeup was dark and her lips were painted in red; she looked so different since last time.

“Ahem, weren’t you hosting a party?” she asked confused as she started walking with us back to the house.

“Oh, so you’re coming over?” Tommy was delighted about this news.

“Ahem dah?!” It was obvious. “Do you think I would wear this to go to the post office?” she went on “These fucking tights are slicing my butt, and if my bra was tighter my boobs would probably be in my mouth,” She complained climbing up the stairs that led to the house.

“Your butt looks great from here” I assured her, given that I was a few steps behind her.

“I would bet,” she teased, crawling through the window, joining the party.

By the moment I had entered I had already lost her in the crowd. Her pink fur was laying on a couch and she was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey man, Bullwinkle was looking for you!” Vince approached me and Tommy. He looked at the box between my hands, “What’s that?”

“Kind permission of your girl.” I replied with a smirk; Vice started laughing

“Oh man you’re crazy!” He grabbed a bottle for himself. “Have we something to open it?”

I shrugged, “I’ll figure something out.” I replied heading off to the kitchen.

“Are you following me, Sixx?” Maya was stabbing the cork with a pointed knife. I left the box on the counter and watched how she was trying to open the bottle.

“What if I am?” she passed a hand through her hair and then turned to look at me.

“You know, that’s called stalking.”

“Well you’re the one that approached me in a dark and scary street, that is called being a creep.”

She could not hide a genuine smile, it looked so innocent compared to her appearance.

“Are you going to help me, or are you going to stare at me all night long like the other day?” she asked pointing the knife in my direction. Her brows were curved high as she was waiting.

“Well I thought that after the car, a bottle would have been real easy for you,” I asserted taking the knife from her hand. “But I’m always willing to help a damsel in distress.” I then started carving the cork; I felt her eyes on me for the whole time.

“Are you going to stare at me all night long?” I repeated teasingly, as I finally completed my job.

“Maybe.” I handed her the bottle and she took a long sip. “You’re my hero Mr Sixx.” She joked. Her full lips where curved in a light smile.

“Where is the prize for the brave commander?” I teased her shortening the distance between us.

“The prize is a lot of gratitude.” She offered with a big smile “Enjoy your night, Sixx.” And after a kiss on my cheek she left.

[picturebookmakers]

ATAK

In this post, ATAK talks about his fascinating creation process and he shares illustrations and development work from some of his wonderful books – including sketchbook pages for his forthcoming picturebook ‘Piraten im Garten’, which is due to be published in 2020.

Visit ATAK’s website

ATAK: My process is like hip-hop. Mixing and sampling.

I have a big box where I put material that I’ve found on the street or in magazines. Then in the summer, when I’m sitting in the summer house, I stick everything into sketchbooks.

These are important books for me. I often use them when I’m looking for an idea. I like to make connections between this and that.

Sometimes I steal things. Here’s an example of where I used a painting by Caspar David Friedrich in one of my images. This is a very important painting for the German culture; it’s romantic. It’s the first painting that’s like a window. You see with him and you’re led into the picture.

‘Wanderer above the Sea of Fog’, Caspar David Friedrich, 1818.

When I take something to use in my own work, it’s more about the idea of composition and atmosphere. It’s not just a reference that people will know.

This is the sketchbook for my picturebook ‘Topsy Turvy World’. The publisher asked me for a book for children, and as I was tired of working with long texts, I thought this one should be a wordless book, where the images tell the whole story.

We have a German tradition from the 18th century of ‘bilderbogen’. This is like the origin of comics. They’re one-page stories. I was looking at some of these and I found some interesting ideas for ‘Topsy Turvy World’.

Here are some pages from the sketchbook.

Not everything made it into the final book; some of it was too heavy for my publisher, so he kicked it out. The smoking people had to go, otherwise we couldn’t have sold the rights in America.

Then there was a problem... My sketches had a lot of life and were fully-worked, so to transform them into the final artwork was very hard. After the rough version, I had this feeling that I was already finished with the book. Making the final ‘clean’ artwork felt like a kind of discipline.

My original paintings are always much bigger than they appear in the books. I never work to the correct size or format.

I often sell my paintings, but here is one I’ll never sell. It was done for the first children’s book I made, called ‘Comment la mort est revenue à la vie’ (How death came back to life), written by Muriel Bloch and published by Thierry Magnier.

It’s an important painting for me. I came from the comic world – black and white graphics – where I would draw out the whole scenes with all the details. In the middle of working on this painting, I had to go out to buy some food, and then I came back and thought, “Oh, it’s enough.” There’s a big difference when you work with colour. It’s like a sound, like a kind of music. This painting was very important for me in understanding colour.

Before I start working on an image, I often have a rough idea of what’s going to happen in the scene, but I leave a lot of space for other things to come in... And when I’ve started to work, I might see something in my studio or in a book, and it goes into the image.

I like this open process. And I like to be surprised. It’s very important for me that I don’t know in the beginning exactly what’s going to happen.

My way of painting is very old school. Traditional. Sometimes I paint over the top of something and you can see the trace of it behind. You can’t really fake things like this on the computer. For me, my original artwork is more important than the finished book. I once had an interesting discussion about this with Blexbolex. It’s completely the opposite for him: he sees his books as being the original artwork.

After ‘Topsy Turvy World’, I made a book called ‘The Garden’.

The original German edition was almost like a book for bourgeoise women... But for the French edition, they reimagined it for kids. It’s much bigger; you can really go inside. And the French publisher asked me to make some flaps to open up on the pages, which were not there in the original edition.

The sketches for ‘The Garden’ are almost nothing. It was very important that I didn’t repeat the process of ‘Topsy Turvy World’, where the sketches were very close to the finished artwork. I couldn’t work like this again. So the sketches here are very loose, but I knew exactly what was supposed to be in the pictures.

Working like this, you must have a very strong relationship with the publisher – one of absolute trust. I also have big problems with deadlines; I’m always late. With this book, my publisher Antje Kunstmann was so good. She phoned me every morning: “Hallo, here is Antje!” It was so important to know she was there, almost like a mother. It was a similar story with Wolf Erlbruch and his book ‘Duck, Death and the Tulip’. He was working for four years on this book. In the end, Antje came to his home and was waiting on his sofa for two days to take the last drawing!

The latest children’s book I made is called ‘Martha’.

I started working on it after reading an article in National Geographic about the passenger pigeon. I was fascinated. Because it’s a real story, it was not easy for me to make this book. It’s easier when I’m given a text because I have more distance.

Again, I worked very loosely in my sketchbook. These sketches are just indications – so I know something is here or somebody is there. It does help me that things are more open.

I don’t have sketchbooks where I draw from reality. I’m not good at this. You’ll never find me sitting in a crowd, making sketches. I watch and I observe instead. And I have books where I write ideas or note down interesting forms and shapes that I see.

Here are some pictures from ‘Martha’.

And here’s an idea for the dust jacket, where the kids could cut and draw on the paper, and make origami out of it to give a kind of rebirth. Martha is gone, but maybe she’s not gone if the kids could bring her back. The publisher didn’t go for this idea.

I went to art school but never finished. Just after the Berlin Wall came down, I was studying visual communication. There wasn’t a good atmosphere at my art school. I wanted to find like-minded people and work as a team, but it felt like most of the students were only interested in being artists, but not in working together. Then my daughter was born, and I never finished art school.

I’m now teaching art as a professor. The other teachers have diplomas, and I feel like I’ve come from the working class. I do like intellectual work, but when I work with students, I want to see something. I can only talk about what I see. I need it very visual. It has to catch me.

From when I was nine years old, I wanted to be an illustrator. In east Germany, illustration was a part of publishing. All the novels had illustration. It’s still unique now to see this, but in east Germany it was normal... So my plan was always to be an illustrator. This way I could wake up when I wanted, have no boss, listen to my music all day, and make my own work.

Speaking of music... The type of music I listen to when I work depends on the specifics of the book. For example, I made a book for Nobrow called ‘Ada’ (from a word portrait by Gertrude Stein). The idea for the artwork was to make handmade pixels, so I listened to a lot of electronic music; ping–ping–ping! It’s about energies. And for me, the music is also very important because I travel a lot and it can be hard to come back to your work – but when I listen to the music, immediately I’m back in the project, in the zone. It’s all connected – the music with the book.

Here’s my playlist for ‘Martha’.

Distortions – Clinic Go – Sparklehorse & The Flaming Lips VCR – The XX Song For A Warrior – Swans Avril 14th – Aphex Twin Quiet Music – Nico Muhly First Song For B – Devendra Banhart Last Song For B – Devendra Banhart How Can You Mend A Broken Heart? – Al Green Ash Black Veil – Apparat I Know They Say – Spectrum Opus 55 – Dustin O’Halloran Lost Fur – Karen O & The Kids Unfinished Business – The Go-Betweens Sometimes – My Bloody Valentine Lies – Sin Fang Bous Debussy: Suite Bergamasque, L 75 - Clair De Lune – Alexis Weissenberg Nimrod (Adagio) – David Hirschfelder Atmosphere – Joy Division Still Life – Elliot Goldenthal The Lake – Antony & The Jonhsons Flying Birds – RZA

I used to make hardcore comics with friends. This was our first, which we made before the wall came down. My work has changed completely. I can’t understand this now; it’s like another man made it! And they are not funny. It’s a very small humour; you really have to look for it.

Then, after my daughter was born, I did my own comic series called ‘Wondertüte’. In the comic scene, everybody told me that this wasn’t a comic. But for me, it was totally a comic. I liked the comic medium, but I didn’t see why there had to be only one way. From all my old comics, this is the one I like the most.

The idea comes from the ‘learn English’ books we had in school. It’s a bit like a poem, but with a more open structure. I think my older work was very closed, and this comic is where it really started to open up. I made it for me, not for the mainstream. I got no money for it. But you could find it in kiosks. Somebody told me he saw it in a kiosk in a very small village. He said it was very important to see this comic displayed in-between all the nice, fancy stuff... My audience is not many people, but they are passionate.

I don’t really consider myself as a children’s book illustrator; it’s not like this. But it gives me a lot more freedom. Some of my friends find themselves working on one comic for years! I respect this, but for me that’s like a jail. With comics, you have to take such care with narration. You go from one panel to the next panel to the next... The comic medium is a question of time. In a children’s book, the reader looks at one page for perhaps two minutes or ten minutes. They go deep inside. It’s a completely different work. Also in a children’s book you have a stage; it’s really like theatre.

I also think it’s very important in children’s books that you read the book again and again. You read a comic maybe once and then you kick it out or you give it to somebody. But a children’s book is like a ritual between parents and kids.

This is a cover version of the German classic book ‘Der Struwwelpeter’.

The stories here are new and full of humour. I made this book with Fil (Philip Tägert). It was after ‘Topsy Turvy World’, and for me it was so important that I could be free with the pictures. The publisher said make what you want. And it felt so good.

There are hundreds of different versions of ‘Der Struwwelpeter’. As with the ‘bilderbogen’, this was like the beginning of comic stories.

I once found an old version of the book from Denmark with an extra chapter. They didn’t trust all that dark stuff and they made up new stories. So in our cover version, we had this idea to make one chapter where literally nothing happens! We tried to make it as boring as possible, with the pictures saying exactly the same thing as the words. It was so hard to make a boring illustration! It’s really not easy!

My new book will be published next year. It’s for my little son; he’s three years old. You could see it as a connection between ‘Topsy Turvy World’ and ‘The Garden’. It’s called ‘Pirates in the Garden’. The German title is ‘Piraten im Garten’, so the title is like a poem; you hear it and you don’t forget it. I like this title very much.

This book will will be very simple, a bit like Sesame Street. One word on each page, so you make associations between the word and the image, and the parents can talk about it with their kids.

I’m working in the sketchbook at the moment, and I want to make the sketches really good. For ‘The Garden’ and ‘Martha’, I kept the sketches really open. But for this one, no. I know this is going to be my last book for children. And it’s for my son, so I’m going to make it special. In the future, perhaps I’ll make art books in small editions, more paintings, stuff like this, but not books in a commercial way again.

When I made ‘Martha’, I was thinking, “who needs this?” It wasn’t mainstream and I was so confused. It’s different from when someone asks me to make a cover or a painting; I’m never thinking about who needs this. But this was different. Sometimes you just don’t know if what you’re doing is important or not. So I was kind of depressed working on that book. This is the main reason it took me such a long time.

I sometimes feel very alone working as a children’s book illustrator in Germany. My style is not at all mainstream and I always just made my books for fun. It was never a big passion of mine to make children’s books for my whole life. But I always liked the roots.

So for my final children’s book, ‘Piraten im Garten’, I will make it for myself and for my son.

Illustrations © ATAK. Post edited by dPICTUS.

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Verrueckte Welt / Topsy Turvy World

ATAK

Jacoby & Stuart, Germany, 2009

A fantastical picturebook where mice chase cats, penguins live in the jungle, and cars fly! There’s few things that children enjoy more than catching grown-ups telling fibs. Discarding what’s obviously wrong is how they find out what’s right.

It’s a time-honoured children’s game; ATAK’s just given it a new twist, using lots of classic tall stories, and adding a few new ones as well.

German: Jacoby & Stuart

English: Flying Eye Books

French: Editions Thierry Magnier

Spanish: Fulgencio Pimentel

Italian: Orecchio Acerbo

Norwegian: Magikon

Slovak & Czech: Baobab

Portuguese: Planeta Tangerina (Portugal)

Portuguese: Companhia das Letras (Brazil)

Dutch: Boycott Books

Chinese (Simplified): TB Publishing Ltd (Everafter Books)

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Der Struwwelpeter

FIL & ATAK

Kein & Aber, Switzerland, 2009

Like a rock band covering their favourite songs, ATAK and FIL tackle the classic stories of Zappelphilipp, Hans-guck-in-die-Luft & Co.

And just as a Heavy Metal cover might sound harder than the original, you’ll also find tighter morals, harsher imagery, politically incorrect humour, and that ever-so-subtle touch of evil that has been pervading this book for more than 160 years.

German: Kein & Aber

French: Fremok Editions

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Der Garten / The Garden

ATAK

Verlag Antje Kunstmann, Germany, 2013

In silence, the garden wakes up. Thus opens this picturebook by ATAK, as an invitation to walk in a garden with a thousand surprises – a haven of peace, populated with animals and strange characters.

You’ll discover with wonder, the treasures and the tranquility of the garden, and you’ll observe the seasons and the passing of time.

German: Verlag Antje Kunstmann

French: Editions Thierry Magnier

Spanish: Niño Editor

Portuguese: Companhia das Letras (Brazil)

Korean: Bear & Cat

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Martha

ATAK

Aladin Verlag, Germany, 2016

Martha tells the tale of the extinction of North America’s native Passenger Pigeon – its shockingly rapid decline caused directly by humans – and is told from the perspective of ‘Martha’, the last of the species who died at the Cincinnati Zoo in 1914. The story begins with a feeling of greatness and awe, describing flocks of birds that were once so numerous that they would darken the skies for days, their beating wings as loud as motors.

German: Aladin Verlag

French: Les Fourmis Rouges

Korean: Sanha

[seven-oomen]

The hug and the headcanons were much appreciated.  :D  (You say it started getting long like that’s a bad thing.  But then I am apparently the embodiment of that comment like you’re the drunk girl in the bathroom at the club post, so perhaps I am not the best judge.)  And I don’t know if you were trying to kill me with that new preview, or make me want to kill Chris, but either way, mission accomplished.  I swear, that boy.  He’s gonna give me gray hairs before this is over.  XD  *basks in the warm, fluffy goodness anyway*

Omg, Craft Dad Peter may be one of the best things I’ve ever heard of.  Chris and Noah never have to buy another scarf or pair of gloves, Peter makes them for them (and often for the rest of the pack, too, but his mates get the best) as a way of subtly staking claim.  Bonus points if he finds a way to spin his fur into the yarn (or finds someone to do it for him.)  And it’s all kinds of crafts, too, from a huge painting he does with Allison of the view of the Preserve from Makeout Lookout Point that goes above the mantle at the new house, to macaroni art and finger painting with his youngest kids.  

Also, I feel like one year, maybe after most have gone off to college and sneaking is a bit easier, Malia badgers her siblings and other dads into finding whatever old baby/toddler clothes they might still have and helping her make them into a patchwork quilt for Peter since he had to miss so much (if not all) of that time with them.  Chris and Noah also throw in a couple of their shirts from high school; faded flannel and ratty band gear intermixing with brightly colored superhero logos an well worn sports jerseys, corduroy, and denim and a little bit of lace, in all colors of the rainbow from jewel tones to pastels.  She even leaves some room to add stuff from the later kids, because she knows they’re going to want more.  

Needless to say, there are a lot of tears (like, a LOT), and it instantly becomes his favorite for curling up in front of the TV, or out on the porch to watch the sunset, or just wherever, in whatever form.  It goes over so well they end up making another one with stuff donated from everyone in the pack so that it ends up huge and always comes out for movie nights and puppy piles.  (Wow, that idea kinda got away from me, but I ain’t even mad.)

Loving the descent into nsfw and related ideas.  Always here for those three teasing the ever-loving shit out of each other, because that’s just the way they are.  I feel like Chris and Noah are much more successful at pulling stunts in public, because they’re much better at faking innocence and making it seem accidental.  Lbr, Peter is terrible at looking innocent, even when he is.  

They both get so low-key annoyed that Peter’s werewolf healing means they can’t really leave much in the way of lasting marks, whereas Chris ends up with bruises and stubble burn in the most inconvenient and awkward places, and Noah seems forever doomed to look like he got attacked by an extremely aggressive push broom from the neck down.  

Oh god, Peter and Chris would totally rig anything that needed repair around the house so that it would only finally break when Noah was off so they could see him up a ladder changing light bulbs in a snug, worn t-shirt, or reaching underneath a sink or cabinet.  They just lean back and enjoy the show with a nice chilled drink.  He gets them back by conveniently being on shift whenever one of the kids moves back for a while and needs furniture moved.  

All the Omegas in the pack get extensive training in proper self defense, which leads to Peter getting banned from the premises because his expressions and scent while watching Noah and Chris spar to demonstrate creeps everyone else right tf out.  

I feel like Chris probably does a lot of the cooking, between having lived on his own the most and debatably being home the most.  So sometimes when they have the house to themselves Peter and Noah try to get Chris to cook wearing only an apron (frilly or not is up to you).  (Actually, depending on what share of the chores he takes on my brain just screamed out of nowhere FRENCH MAID’S OUTFIT and now I can’t stop laughing, oh god, I just keep picturing these terrible porny roleplays where the police officer is just checking in because there have been reports of break-ins and he “just wants to make sure all entrances and exits are properly secured” and of course the maid just wants to be helpful and fetches the master of the house[is he wearing a smoking jacket and silk pajamas? 

 I think the answer is obviously yes] to assist their “routine search"  [oh god, please help, I’m wheezing.])  I’m pretty sure somebody gets fucked on the washing machine (and by somebody I obviously mean both of them.  They go through a LOT of cleaner in that house, lbh.)  

And poor Stiles just will NOT let the Incident, as he calls it, go.  Whenever he’s irritated with one of them he’ll send them some variation of the "right in front of my salad” meme to be an asshole.  

They very definitely make sure that all the bedrooms have nicely soundproofed walls, because there are things none of the kids want to hear (except maybe Erica or Lydia).  Totally here for pet names/sweet nothings/dirty talk/whatev in a variety of languages, especially French and Polish, obvs.  (cue Gomez mode - “Why Chris, that’s French…”)  

And I do love that drag queen headcanon so much, especially for this ‘verse.  The Stiles and Jax better be careful or their dads might just be forced to prove how much they can still rock that look if they want to (I may or may not have had a running list/idea in my head of which outfit from a Lady Gaga video each parent would wear if they were all dressing to theme for some reason [I don’t really remember why.  You might have noticed my mind goes off on weird, unexplained tangents when left unattended.])

Love all the family bonding stuff.  I feel like Peter would totally organize back-to-school shopping trips for all the pack kids so that they can all head back with all their necessary supplies and rockin’ new wardrobes.  Chris teaches them camping and outdoor survival.  Noah somehow ends up organizing sing-a-longs when they have bonfires while Chris is in charge of s'mores ingredients (neither tries to make Peter or Derek join in if they aren’t feeling it, and take turns to go and check in with cuddles and support throughout the evening.)  

I always liked to headcanon that Noah was a drummer, mainly I think because Dylan is, so people usually made Stiles one, so I figured he might have learned from his dad.  This was also because I loved the idea of Stiles having everybody over for a Rock Band party and having his dad sub in for him on the drums so he could grab some food, and everyone being utterly astounded at how well he could play (since the drums seem the closest controller to the actual instrument.)  

But the idea of him and Malia playing duets together is super adorable, particularly the idea of them playing Polish lullabies for the twins (or Ben, or other Argent-Hale child), or Chris singing French ones for the little ones (or the dads could team up Three Men and a Baby style, I’m here for all of it, really.) 

 And all the wolfy goodness!  Wolf Peter just straight up flopping across one or both of his mates while they try to read or watch TV because he needs attention right now and wants to cuddle.  Chris scratching all the right places.  Noah using a variant of the healing magic to loosen all of Peter’s tensed muscles as he pets along his back and sides.  Good stuff.  (Occasionally Ben or one of the younger wolves, if there are any, will shift and climb up next to them to nuzzle at his face or gnaw on his tail.  Usually by then he’s so relaxed he doesn’t even mind.)  Using him as a bonus cushion when curling up together.  World’s Biggest Teddy Bear.  

And Jackson would totally take advantage of his cuteness.  He got Peter’s ruthlessness and Chris’s puppy-eyes skills.  The younger kids keep finding ways to work him into their Halloween costumes because he can somehow convince people to give them more candy even though “dogs can’t have chocolate…"  He doesn’t mind helping his baby siblings, and enjoys the chance to prove just how good he is.  

Malia is totally the one who’d just nope out of the conversation, but I think she’d also be the one to (most) help Ben develop his shifted skills and really feel comfortable in both forms.  

Poor Derek, he’s just like "I am not a goddamn herding dog, corral your kids!”, but he’s not fooling anybody and loves the way the twins just stare at him mesmerized and gently petting at his soft fluffy fur.  He absolutely lets them climb on him and ride around until they get too big to do it (then they just hang off his arms or piggy back whenever he visits.)

And that last flash-forward headcanon is so cute.  I feel like the spot should be on a porch swing, but given how much time I spent on my grandparents’, I’m probably a bit biased .  There’s a wind chime made of broken guitar strings and spare car parts (with a base carved by Stiles) that hangs nearby, ringing gently in the breeze as they sway.  They curl up under one of Peter and Malia’s quilts, legs tangled together, backs pressed up against pillows set up against the arms for support.  Peter sits on the steps, leaning on the banister, or maybe gently sprawled in a nearby matching chair, enjoying the view of his family and the quiet peacefulness of the moment. *insert reaction shot of Ghost Rider going “yessss- YESSSSS-” here*

Anyway, I’m glad your day was stupidity free, and I hope your cat is feeling calmer and well comforted.  And hopefully the weather cleared up there like it did here, though also hopefully without leaving as much humidity behind as we got.  Ah well, pretty much standard for summer around here, so.

Oh man I definitely got carried away a bit and no, there’s nothing wrong with that but I also idk, I’m not used to talking about something I love I guess. Especially not so freely with someone who’s really genuinely interested in hearing it.

Also idk what it is, probably fatigue and dyslexia in my add brain, but I have enormous trouble concentrating right now. So, I decided I would answer this submission before bed instead of writing. Well technically I’m writing now too, there’s that. Anyway...

Where was I? I feel like I just had an entire conversation in my brain and it’s already gone.

Okay, okay, Imma try to do this.

Chris is just, he’s a very scarred boy who’s very insecure. Noah will help him though and I hope it feels in character but fluff is coming.

And I really don’t have the focus to answer all of these headcanons but I love them, they made smile and giggle and they got me through hell today and I just. I really wish I had the brain capacity today to answer all of them.. Because yes to everything!

Do you know how hard it is to ask someone about their wifi connections when you’re reading about French Maid outfits and bad cop outfits and body cavity searches??? Do YOU??? 

It’s very hard and I had to try so hard not to laugh while guiding one lady through her ‘my remote is not working’ emergency.

And the quilt thing killed me, YEEEESSS. Omg I love your headcanons so much.

I also can’t stop picturing Peter as Gomez and Chris & Noah as Morticia. Also, Jackson is Wednesday and Stiles is Pugsley. I don’t make the rules.

Ughhh omg Idea for a pack run where they all go camping in the woods and Peter initiates a pack run, the first for Ben and Jackson. And they’re all wolfing out and Peter, with his red eyes, just howls up and everyone just howls with him. But Ben can’t keep up and just start hiccuping (This is what I  imagine Ben would look like anyway and it’s the cutest thing) and cuddles up to Chris because it’s all a bit much. 

So Peter comes over and gently nuzzles the cub until Ben’s wagging his tail again and being all playful. And that initiates a pack play session where Ben ‘takes down’ Peter and the other wolves just nip and bark around them playfully while Chris, Noah, Allison, and Stiles watch them with their cameras out and smiles on their faces.

The pack then takes off for a run and return ten minutes later all tuckered out, Ben’s held up by the scruff of his neck by Peter. Jackson is practically asleep on his paws and Malia is yawning by the time they get back. So they curl up with their respective twins and mates. Malia is curled around Stiles and Allison protectively curls around Jackson’s huge wolf form. Ben’s curled up in Chris’s lap, Chris and Noah are huddled together and Peter’s just curled around the three of them. Derek curls up with both sets of twins to keep them safe.

Full moons are extremely lively for this family.

And Derek is such a sucker for the pups in the pack. He keeps complaining and bitching, but honestly, he loves kids, he loves babies and he’s such a sucker for them. Ben, the twins, and the new baby just can do no wrong for him. He’ll keep corralling them and cuddling them when he gets the chance.

God, I love these threads so much, but I think I already said that. lol

Anyway, that’s what my brain has right now, but honestly, I love all of these. Every single one is precious.

[rickwayneauthor]

Times Aren’t What They Used To Be

by Karel Capek

 It was quiet in front of the cave. The men, brandishing their spears, had gone off into the hills early that morning, intent on tracking a herd of elk; the women, meanwhile, were picking berries in the forest, and only now and then could their shrill yelling and chatter be heard; the children were mostly splashing in the stream below — not that anyone could keep an eye on those brats, that wild, rascally pack of little savages. And so old primogenitor Janecek was drowsing in the rare quiet under the soft October sun; truth to tell, he was snoring, and his breath whistled through his nose. He was pretending, however, not to be asleep but rather watching over his tribe’s cave and ruling it, as befits an old chieftain.

 Old Mrs. Janecek spread out the freshly skinned hide of a bear and set about scraping it with a sharp flint. It had to be done thoroughly, one small section at a time — and not the way that girl did it, thought the old woman; that scatterbrain only gave it a lick and a promise, and before you knew it she was scurrying off again to kiss and cuddle the children — the way that girl treats hides, they won’t last any time at all, oh no, they’ll either rot or burn. But I’m not going to meddle, not when my son won’t tell her himself — Only it’s true, that girl has no idea how to take proper care of things. And here’s a hole in the skin, right in the middle of the back! Dear me, the old woman was shocked, what clumsy fool speared that bear in the back? Why, it ruins the whole skin! Never in his life would my old man have done a thing like that, she thought, thoroughly vexed. He always aimed at the neck and hit it—

 “Ah yah,” old Janecek grunted just then, rubbing his eyes. “Aren’t the men back yet?”

 “Of course not,” grumbled the old woman. “You’ll just have to wait.”

 “Tcha,” the old man sighed, and he blinked sleepily. “So much for them. Oh, well. And where are the women?”

 “Am I supposed to be standing guard over them?” snapped the old woman. “You know they’re lolling around somewhere — ”

 “Ah yah yah,” grandfather Janecek gave a lengthy yawn. “Lolling around somewhere. Instead of — instead of, well, doing this or that or — Well, there you have it. That’s the way it goes!”

 There was silence, except for old Mrs. Janecek scraping swiftly and irritably at the fresh hide.

 “I can tell you this,” Janecek broke the silence, scratching his back thoughtfully. “You’ll see, they won’t bring anything back this time, either. Stands to reason, with those good-for-nothing bone spearheads of theirs. I’ve told our son time and time again: ‘Look, no bone’s hard and strong enough to make spearheads out of!’ Why, even a woman like you’s got to know that no bone, and no antler either, has the — well, the striking force, see? Hit a bone with it, and it shatters: you can’t cut through bone with bone, right? Stands to reason. A stone spearhead, now — sure it’s more work; however, on the other hand, you’ve got one fine tool on your hands. But you think our son listens to reason?”

 “Don’t I know it,” Mrs. Janecek said resentfully. “Nobody takes orders from anybody these days.”

 “I’m not ordering anybody to do anything,” the old man flared up angrily, “but they won’t even take advice! Yesterday I found this nice flat piece of flint under that rock over there. All it needed was a bit of trimming along the edges to make it sharper, and you’d have one fine spearhead, a beauty. So I brought it in and showed it to our son: ‘Look, isn’t this a great stone?’ ‘It is,’ says he, ‘but what can you do with it, Dad?’ ‘Well, think about it,’ says I: ‘you could work it up into a spearhead.’ ‘Come on, Dad,’ he says, ‘who’d bother chipping and fussing with that? Why, we’ve got a whole pile of that old junk in the cave, and it’s no good for anything! It won’t stay on a spear shaft no matter how you try to fasten it, so what can you do with it?’ What a lazy bunch they are!” the old man shouted fiercely. “Nobody wants to work a piece of flint properly these days, that’s what it is! They just want things easy! Sure, you can make a bone spearhead in less than no time — but it breaks in no time, too. ‘No problem,’ says our son, ‘you just make another one, that’s all there is to it.’ Well, maybe so, but where does that get you? A new spearhead every other minute! Tell me, whoever heard the likes of that? Why, a good flint spearhead used to last years on end! But what I say is, and you can take my word for it: one of these days they’ll be glad to go back to our honest stone weapons! That’s why I hang on to them wherever I find them: old arrows and hammers and flint knives — And he calls it junk!”

 The old man was nearly choking in his grief and rage. In an effort to distract him, Mrs. Janecek spoke up. “You know,” she said, “it’s the same thing with these hides. That girl actually said to me, ‘Ma, what’s the use of all that scraping? It’s not worth the effort. You should try dressing them with ashes sometime; at least they won’t stink.’ Don’t try to teach me anything,” the old lady railed at her absent daughter-in-law. “I know what I know! We’ve always scraped hides, ever since time began, and what hides they were! Of course, if it’s not worth the effort — All they want is to get out of doing any work! That’s why they’re always dreaming up excuses and trying to do things differently — Dressing hides with ash! Whoever heard of such a thing?”

 “There you have it.” Old Janecek yawned. “How we do things isn’t good enough for them. And to think they say stone weapons aren’t comfortable to hold. Well, that’s certainly true, we didn’t pay much attention to comfort! But these days — no, no, no, you might get calluses on your poor little hands! I ask you, where’s all this leading to? You take kids today. ‘Lay off them, grampa,” says the daughter-in-law, “they’re only playing. Let them have a good time.’ Sure, but what’s going to become of them?”

 “If only they didn’t make such a racket,” the old woman complained. “They’re out of control, that’s what they are!”

 “That’s today’s upbringing for you,” lectured old Janecek. “And if now and then I do mention something to our son, he says, ‘Dad, you don’t understand, times are different now, it’s a different era. Why,’ he says, ‘even bone’s no longer the latest word in weapons.’ You know what else he says? ‘One of these days,’ he says, ‘people are going to come up with even better stuff to make weapons out of.’ Now isn’t that the limit? As if anybody ever saw any better material than stone, wood, or bone! Why, even a foolish woman like you must admit that — that — that’s going way too far!”

 Mrs. Janecek let her hands fall into her lap. “So tell me,” she said, “where is all this nonsense coming from?”

 “From what I hear, it’s the latest fashion,” muttered the toothless old man. “For your information, over in that direction, four days’ journey from here, some new tribe’s moved in without even asking, a pack of foreigners, and supposedly that’s how they do things. That’s where the younger generation’s getting all these crazy ideas — from them. Bone spearheads and everything. And our young people are even — are even buying things from them,” he shouted, getting all worked up again. “Trading our nice warm furs! As if anything good ever came from foreigners! Never, never have any dealings with foreign riffraff! No, do as our forefathers’ experience teaches us to do: when you see a foreigner, strike first and bash his head in, no fuss and no formalities. That’s what we’ve done since time began: no chitchat, just kill him. ‘Come on, Dad,’ says our son, ‘times have changed — we’re setting up an exchange of goods with them —’ Exchange of goods! If I kill somebody and take what he’s got, then I’ve got his goods and don’t have to give him anything in return — so why trade? ‘Come on, Dad,’ says our son, ‘you’re still paying in human lives, and it’s not worth it.’ So there you have it: they say it’s not worth taking human lives! That’s the modern view,” the old man growled in disgust. “They’re cowards, that’s all they are. Not worth taking human lives! And how, if you please, are so many people going to get enough to eat if they don’t kill each other? There’s damn few elk now as it is! It’s all very well to feel sorry about human lives, but they have no respect for tradition, they have no consideration for their fathers and forefathers — Why, it’s a disaster!” grandpa Janecek burst out vehemently. “Just the other day I spied one of those snot-nose whiners daubing clay on the wall of a cave, in the shape of a bison, if you please. I gave him a clout to the head, but our son says, ‘Let him alone, Dad; why, that bison looks like it’s alive!’ Now that’s really too much! Why waste time on something as useless as that? If you don’t have enough work to do, boy, then polish up a piece of flint, but don’t paint bison on the walls! What do we need that kind of idiocy for?”

 Mrs. Janecek pursed her lips tightly. “If it were only bison,” she let drop after a pause.

 “What’s this?” asked the old man.

 “Nothing, really,” Mrs. Janecek said defensively. “I’m ashamed to talk about it — But if you must know,” she suddenly resolved, “this morning I found . . . in the cave . . . a piece of mammoth tusk. It was carved like . . . like a stark-naked woman. Breasts and everything!”

 “You don’t mean it!” the old man uttered in astonishment. “And who carved it?”

 Mrs. Janecek shrugged her shoulders, a shocked expression on her face. “Who knows? One of the youngsters, probably. I threw it in the fire, but — Those breasts it had! Disgusting!”

 “ — — Well, this better not go any farther!” old grandpa Janecek finally managed to say. “It’s perverse, that’s what it is! You see? That’s what happens once they start carving this, that, and everything out of bone! We’d never in our lives have thought of doing anything so shameless, because with flint you plain couldn’t do it — This is what it leads to! That’s their new-fangled inventions for you! They’ll go on thinking up new ways of doing things, always trying out something new, until everything’s gone to rack and ruin — Mark my words,” old caveman Janecek shouted with prophetic enlightenment, “it’s not going to last long at all!”

 (December 24, 1931)