#this project reminded me why I’m not a furry artist

[breathofthewildyaverage]

Turning the Chain into Furries pt 2: W a r r i o r s

I STRUGGLED with this one ngl, I’m already not very experienced with animals, and there’s no reason for lions to be that hard to draw. Regarding the symbolism for the lion, I read a bunch of different websites on spirit animals, and chose the ones I felt best fit Wars.

I went back and forth on giving him his actual scarf, or just coloring his hair lol. If I draw him more in the future I might experiment with different design choices and see if the scarf was a better choice lol

(Tap on picture for better quality)

[garrulousgeologist]

Act 3 =>

 💚💚💚 JADE HARLEY 💚💚💚

Manic pixie dream girl syndrome wouldn’t dare go near this silly girl. She knows what the fuck she’s doing!! 

Becquerel is such a raw name for a dog. No wonder Bec is so fucking powerful. 

Now hang on just one second. Of course I remember Bec has some wildly OP stats and ultimately has an enormous role to play, along with a certain cat of similar description. But with the name and irradiated food I’m piecing subtext together I never did in high school. So like…did someone toss this dog in a vat of radioactive sludge shitty comic book hero style? (I tried to find a gif of that scene from Sky High where the dad goes “Where would we even find a vat of toxic waste?” for wayy too long and couldn’t find one but I’m too lazy to make it myself so pretend I made a cute lil joke and move on).

Seriously though where does this thing originate? Is it ever explained? Don’t answer that.

I do like my knee-jerk reaction that Bec possesses radioactive powers because of the name alone, though, the implications are hilarious. My cats are named Kenma, after the Haikyuu character, and Monkey D Luffy, after the idiot. They reflect their namesakes well. Should have named one Tesla. The unit, not the dude.

While I’m on a brief tangent away from the storyline let me add how deeply I appreciate everyone who helped put together the Unofficial Homestuck Collection! I’m reminded of the work and passion that went into this project once again at the original format and poll statistics can be viewed on the decision for Jade’s symbol on her shirt! Dress..lab coat. Clothing! One of many really cool pieces of early HS fandom interaction I’m infinitely glad isn’t lost.

And getting back to the comic at hand, Jade is a furry who ends up a real anthropomorphic individual and I love that for her.

The 8 ball and cue ball in her chest (of the treasure variety) made me flinch, though. For no particular reason, of course. Why would I even say that?

[S] Jade: Open FreshJamz! 

Dave would have been an extremely popular vaporwave artist and you know it. He’d have an extremely successful and elaborate lofi channel like lofi girl, steezyasfuck, chill village, etc. (NEW) Explore Remix and Crystalthemums are too fucking good. Especially for a 13 year old!

Jesus fucking christ. This is where she’s getting her information on John? And everyone else? 

[S] MIDNIGHT CREW: ACT 1031

Hello???

[S] Dave: STRIFE.

HELLO???!?!?!?!!?

[S] Jade: Descend.

Is this just going to keep happening?! I say this with somewhat delirious glee, don’t get me wrong this RULES- it’s just all jumbled together. 

…which is a really good description of how I view HS altogether tbh.

Jade: Answer.

HI AGAIN, IDIOT. <3 <3 <3 <3

For most characters in HS that start a shitty kid and end up with an immense amount of growth later on I will state that I give their shitty actions no leniency. A character needs to be shit on for their fuck ups in order to succeed at growth!

However Karkat is an exception. Vriska did nothing wrong? More like Karkat could never do anything bad ever he’s perfect and I love him. He is doing his best!!! He is always doing his best!! He is trying to save everyone all the time!! Ahhhh!!!!

[S] Dave: Abscond.

:(

Whoop, there it is. Ugh. I have a similar relationship with this flash animation as I did playing Undertale for the first time, and honestly I think I have Undertale to thank for my paradigm shift. I was almost completely detached from genuine reaction and evaluation of media in high school and focused almost entirely on reflecting the thoughts and emotions of my peers around me. It didn’t even occur to me, shallow as my views on media were, to genuinely observe Dave’s stubby little sprite and what happens to him in his attempt to flee his Bro’s onslaught. And dude :c Dave gets beat the fuck up. It’s hard to watch, the humor overtones are appreciated to soften the blow so to speak, but it still sucks to think it takes so long for Dave to realize how wrong this dynamic really is, and even longer for him to work through the complicated feelings and thoughts that come along with a realization like that. I digress, I guess.

[S] Rose: Ascend.

Love you Nanaquin <3 

Grist, Shale, Tar, and Mercury. I want to parse this out, why these materials specifically? My initial curiosity comes from being a geologist. Tar and shale form together naturally. In many shale formations there are also mercury deposits, usually pointed out on geological survey websites for public safety reasons (at least in the U.S. where I live this is commonplace). While all those things make sense together to me, I don’t understand why they are being used in the first place. And grist is just a byproduct of milling grain, right?

Matter that forms the basis of a story or analysis. A building block material for a concept. That makes way more sense. I’m pretty sure I heard this definition from Tex Talks on youtube first, who has a series of video essays on Homestuck processes and mechanics. If you haven’t seen them I recommend those videos, they are the kind of in-depth that I like to pretend I could go in conversation about HS, as long as you don’t mind the topics being chosen based purely on individual interest. I certainly don’t. 

Anyway grist is a conceptual building block, used to build concepts through the alchemiter and general server side shenanigans. This makes a lot of sense to me having seen an enormous amount of grist being needed for more complicated but physically small items, while very little is needed to build an entire house.

What about the other materials? I don’t know! I did some research and dug around and honestly I don’t get it. Please shoot me a message if you’ve heard it explained in a forum, blog or video essay somewhere, I’m really interested to know if anyone else has found more answers than me! Especially if it pertains to something revealed later in the comic that I haven’t gotten to yet

Liberty. Reason. Justice. Civility. Edification. Perfection.

MAIL.

[S] Strife!!!

Uhh sooo ummm is Jade okay? *gets adoption papers ready*

I guess I straight up forgot how she talks to her gpa. I remembered that he was, like, stuffed. But all the antics, forgot about that. He died during her lifetime right? She remembers him and how he was and this is her coping with all that? Did she,, stuff him herself? Preserve him? Hm.

Moving on, back to PM.

WORM!!

Back to Rose.

KITTEN!!

Okay so they’re setting up the idea that Mamalonde’s lab is the same we’re seeing the Mayor and PM interact with later, got it. Way easier to comprehend this time around vs. as a small teen.

Uncooperative?

Right, of course. I knew that, as I always do. This was just for you.

[S] Rose: Fast forward to now.

BABY ROSE <3 And same face as surprised Dave! Ugghh she’s so cute. What does Jaspers tell her?? We must find out at some point but I have absolute zero recollection of this as a plot point. I’ll keep an eye out!!

Aah, chorale for Jaspers. I remember this meme’d, I also remember playing it for my cat to get a reaction. She did not react.

Skipping ahead some more, John is having his first Father Crisis [dad is not a street performing clown but a boring business man?? Who could have guessed that??]

No shade to Dad though, obviously. Dude kicks ass.

We also briefly see Jade wandering out to feed Bec if the creechure so deems to be found and fed with aforementioned radioactive food. So does a dog(?) with radioactive powers eat radioactive food to fuel it’s life force of radioactivity? Is that the logic we’re working with? I’m not knocking it I just want to be sure that’s…that’s the line of thought. Andrew Hussie. Genius.

Ending it here because we’re got Jack Noir coming up and I want to dedicate a good amount of thought to that. Once again, I have a few posts queued still, so expect another one a week from today. Ily!

tl;dr

Jade Harley = Furry and I support her. Appreciation of Dave’s artistic ability some more. Karkat blocked by Jade, Kells being protective of Dave. Discussion of grist use and origin. PM. Jade’s Grandpa. Baby Rose.

[lavendersies]

Willuz prompts:

- Willow and her bumblebee Palisman grow an extravagant topiary of her and Luz, adorned with beautiful bouquets of flowers (as well as make delicious honey) for Luz to thank her for everything.

- Kind of a recap of Season 1's Luz and Willow adventures, but with the notable highlight that Willow gives Luz an appropriate flower bouquet as thanks of helping her out (can be combined with previous prompt if preferable)

- Amity and Hunter argue which of the two Luz loves the most, only to find Luz on a date/making out with Willow in a secluded, forested area, maybe with blossoming flowers (this is a non-serious fic as an allegory to the whole shipping war at the moment, but could come off as a bit mean :P)

- Luz practices with her Glyphs once more to make nice flowers and topiaries for Willow.

- Willow has a crush on Luz and can't help but feel a little jealous when she and Amity get close instead. Willow is too shy to confess her feelings for Luz, fearing rejection, and doesn't want to be in hot water with Amity again after they're finally getting along since their breach years ago. Willow wants to be happy for them, but Gus notices her depression.

- Boscha has thrashed Willow's beautiful plant garden, a passion project that's been taken years, and Willow is despaired by this, too depressed to continue and rebuild. Luz decides to fix the garden and improve it.

@Arendalphaeagle gave theses wonderful prompts so I have went with fourth one. The request was suppose to be uploaded on A03 but it didn't work out so until further notice all Willuz requests will be uploaded here. Feel free to drop ya'll request in my ask box. Enjoy.

A flower for Willow

Luz tapped the symbol emitting a green light and a single flower merge. She looks over at her spell book that specializes in plant magic for something new. She had committed her time to mastering a new glyph, hoping it would create the perfect gift for Willow. Luz didn't care if she spent the whole night out here and woke up with tired eyes caked with crust. Starting earlier this week would have been the wise thing to do but studying for her witch classes ate up the time. In a sluggish motion the sun disappeared behind the trees, allowing the moon to provide a dim light and usher in darkness. Luz casted a luminous orb as she read the instruction on how to evoke multiple flowers. She read the guide once more then traced the symbol on paper and activated it. A patch of lavender and lilac flowers bloom before her, this was just what she needed. Luz would allow her artistic skills to do the rest, she took her book and went inside. 

She found Eda knocked out on the couch with an empty cup of apple blood dangling from her hand. A smile spread on her lips seeing the grey-haired witch in her apple blood coma. King was probably upstairs waiting for Luz's return so they could continue watching an anime series that she had downloaded on her phone. Upon entering the room Luz sees King scowling one of his stuffed animals.

When he noticed her presence. He stopped chiding the pink rabbit, "Oh hey Luz, are you ready to watch soul eater with me?" He asked, sitting on the sleeping mat.

"Not tonight love," She replied.

"Why not?!" King whined.

Luz faced the opposite direction and stripped from her outwear into pj's. She put them near the mat and got out her sketch pad.

"I have to finish a gift for Willow," she said, sitting down to begin sketching her friend's face.

"You can finish it tomorrow, I've been watching all week for us to watch soul eater!" 

"Sorry King, I promise we will watch it together tomorrow" she assured.

The furry demon grumbled under his breath and joined her on the mat. "What are you drawing anyways?" He asked, peeking over her shoulder.

"A picture of Willow" she responded.

"What's the occasion?"

"None, I just want to do something nice for my friend," she said.

"Do you have anything else in mind?"

Luz had finished Willow's eyes and moved on to her nose, "Tomorrow I'm 

going to create a plant statue with this picture".

"I want a plant statue of me!" King cried. 

Luz chuckled.

"And you've been doing a lot for Willow lately, last week you went out of your way to get her that plant baby".

Luz's heart raced, she already knew the next words coming, "She sounds more than a friend" King commented. 

"Friends do things for each other all the time" Luz struggled to tolerate her frisky heart, hoping the tone of her voice wasn't a dead give away.

"Eh, if you say so."

The room fell in silence and Luz worked diligently on Willow's portrait. The plant witch dominates her thoughts, now her heart flutters thinking of those olive green eyes behind the thin-rimmed glasses. The way her ear twitched at sudden noises. Willow had been nothing but a sweet-heart since day, she deserved the world and Luz was willing to give her it. Although these feelings bloomed, she didn't know if it was mutual on Willow's end, and she would keep them buried away. When Luz finally looked up from her sketch-pad King was fast asleep at the edge of her mat. She set aside the finished product and got some rest.

Later that night, Luz had woken up to relieve her heavy bladder, she carefully stepped over a sleeping King and visited the bathroom. After washing her hands, she found herself outside.

 The moon's bright orbs brighten her path as she walks through the woods. Luz was a moth drawn to light, she felt compelled to keep moving. The orbs glowed rapidly like glistening gems, Luz could hear the vibration. She was led into the opening and a massive bush that resembled Willow's head came in view. 

Woah...

"Thank you Luz!" It says

"Huh?"

Its large yellow luminous remind her of fireflies, she had accidentally swallowed one when she was seven.

"Thank you" it repeated.

"What for?" Luz asked.

She didn't get a response to her question,7 the bush thanked Luz on an endless loop. Suddenly, gravity reeled her forward and its mouth opened wide, swallowing her. 

Luz was expecting to be engulfed in darkness, her eyes were squeezed shut. She felt warmth and a chubby body press against hers, opening her eyes. Luz realized it was Willow. She embraced the plant witch hug and gently ran her hand along Willow's turquoise hair. 

"Luz!" 

Everything faded. Luz woke up in her makeshift room with an annoyed little demon held prisoner in her arms. "Luz let go!" He whines struggling to break free.

"Sorry.." she said sheepishly.

Luz released him and King scurried off on all fours. She took care of her personal hygiene then returned to the room for her uniform. When Luz went downstairs, Eda was waiting at the door with her staff. She wore her pajamas. "Can we take the tub?” 

“No, its for emergencies only”

“Please” Luz said, giving the grey haired woman pitiful eyes.

“I’m immune to those” Eda stated dismissively.

“But you can’t be the coolest witch without it,” 

“Keep it up and you’ll be walking to school” Eda said heading out the door. 

--

The schoolyard was still empty when Luz hopped off the staff. She watched Eda fly away, disappearing over the autumn colored trees. Luz took out her plant magic textbook and turned to the page about manipulation. After she got a good understanding, she pulled out the portrait of Willow and drew two symbols on them. Luz crossed her fingers and tapped the paper, a stem sprouted forth and the leaves took on the form of Willow's face. Two Lilac flowers blossomed on both sides, the topiary was the size of a miniature house plant. She had expected bigger  but before Luz could sulk her crush arrived. 

"Willow!" She quickly hid the plant behind her back.

"Hey" Willow smiled. 

Luz felt butterflies tickling her stomach, she forced a skittish smile and revealed the topiary. Willow eyes widened with astonishment, she took the plant from Luz's hands.

"Aww thanks" Willow shifted the plant in her other arm and gave her a hug. Luz no longer had butterflies pestering her insides. The euphoria buttered her up, if Luz hadn't stopped herself she would have kissed Willow. For a brief moment, the turquoise haired witch stared at her. Luz was about to look away but Willow touched her cheek and gently kissed her lips. She led Luz by the hand towards the school building. 

[singeramg]

Finding Forever: Chapter 1

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Black Original Character

Rating: Explict/ M/ Whatever...will be smut later on. 

Warnings: Cursing, eventual smut, some angst, more tags to come as we get into this. 

Summary: Aura Camilla an actress who has just landed her first lead role opposite Henry Cavill. This story follows her as she tries to navigate her fast developing feelings for her costar. 

A/N: Welcome everyone, so this is my first time attempting to write anything involving Henry Cavill, so y'all bare with me and be nice (Please) Also blame The Witcher for this sudden interest. . I hope you guys will like it and I promise it will get better as we go along. I don’t have any idea of how long this will be. I welcome comments and suggestions.

  Chapter 1: All this Love

“I have everything I need ummm....I think.”

I said to my best friend Mia who was laying across my bed, her hair a black/ white/grey ombré dreads that reached the middle of her back of her chestnut frame. She was mindless playing with one of the furry ivory pillows I had on my bed. 

“Well Aura considering you’ve packed and repacked that bag several times I highly doubt you forgot anything. Shit I’m quite sure you’ve packed the entirety of your room.”

She said with a smirk, then went back to scrolling on her phone. I laughed, flipping her off, and zipping my bag closed. 

“Are you ready to drive me to the airport?”

“The real question is are you ready to go?”

She said getting up from my bed and sliding into her shoes. 

“Come bring your ass on...”

I said with a laugh, hauling my suitcase off of bed and out of my room in our shared apartment...

 ⭐️*** 

To say I was nervous was an understatement. I had just checked into my room on location for the movie I had just landed. I had done some parts in television and movies, supporting characters. This would be the first time I played a lead, it was a romantic comedy. All set around a neurotic late 20 something named Anya Novak that spent her life doing everything for everyone else but never going after what she wants. Her job merges with another and in enters the new guy Carson Wyatt who rubs her the wrong way when they first meet and even more so when she figures out he is her new neighbor. 

I could handle the role, I was certain of that but I was nervous because I hadn’t met anyone from the cast yet. The filming schedule was coming off the heels of filming a big movie for not only the directors but for my co-star Henry Cavill. I had been surprised when they said he would be joining the cast as this type of movie didn’t seem like his type that he would be in. It had very little action and a lot of comedic timing. I was nervous that he and I would not get along at all and make this filming unbearable. We were due to start filming in a day or so but tonight we were set to all meet and have dinner. 

I unpacked my clothes and now found myself standing in front of my closet much like I would at home, except now I didn’t have Mia to help me choose. I would settle for FaceTime.

“ It’s Mia the Mua of your dreams.”

“Yeah my nightmares too. Best friend I need help and I need it fast. Cast dinner in two hours with no clue and what to put on out of all the shit you packed me to wear.”

“Where is the dinner?”

“ Small gastropub, nothing too fancy but I want to make a good impression.”

“Yeah maybe on that foine ass co-star of yours.”

“Mi let’s not go there.”

“You need to let him go there with your uptight ass. Been moving around here for months, working too hard with no play. Especially since Jamal.”

“Ugh, god you said the name. I thought we agreed that name was dead.”

“ I agreed not to beat his ass for that shit he pulled, but that’s all. Now onto what you called for. Dark wash jeans, white and black sheer top, black heels. Light on the makeup, soft curls on the hair.”

“Remind me again why you couldn’t come with me.”

“I might style you in my free time but unlike you my jetsetting darling I still have to deal with my lazy ass ultra extra Ulta manager. At least until you need me full time.”

“But I do this is the problem. I told you to get on the plane with me but no. You didn’t.”

“I’m working on it, you know my manager asked me to hold off on my leave until she came back from vacation. Look don’t worry about me I’ll be there is two weeks you can survive two weeks before I arrive,  just get dressed, go make some friends, and relax because I know you are freaking out and doing yourself a disservice. Remember our saying...”

“Beautiful is who you are not what you are.”

Mia and I repeated at the same time as we had since middle school. In a school where the people didn’t look like us with Mia’s cinnamon tone and my sienna color paired with braids and thick dark hair, didn’t make us popular in a world of blonde hair and blue eyes. We made due as we got older, at 25 we kept that motto as a reminder to love ourselves no matter what.

“Aura go out there and make those people love as much as I do.” 

I sniffed back a few tears and felt grateful for the type of friend I had.

“Thank you Mia.”

“Always. Now I gotta go. I was supposed to be at work ten minutes ago.”

We laughed and hung up...

⭐️Later

I dressed in what Mia said to put on, stepping from the cab, grateful for us filming in the springtime in Canada, despite the nighttime, the air was moderate. The restaurant was lit in a dim light but bright enough to see the faces. I stepped in and the hostess upon hearing the name of the party I was with smile brightened up and walked me to a secluded room to the back of the restaurant. As soon as I entered the directors Marshall and Anne a married couple for whom this was a passion project. We instantly clicked during my audition and subsequent talking they were really nice to me.

“Aura! I’m glad you made it!”

Anne said standing and pulling me into hug, Marshall following shortly after. 

“Yes please come in, have a seat. There’s an open seat left next to Henry.”

I smiled and looked to the room where all the men stood on my arrival as custom dictated, and my eyes landed on the 6’1 dark haired gentleman I had been anxious to meet. Marshall walked me to the other side of the table where Henry was standing.

“Henry meet your co-star Aura Camilla. Aura please meet Henry Cavill.”

He had a look on his face that I honestly couldn’t place, but once Marshall made introductions a wide grin broke across his face, and he offered a hand out to me. I took it and we shook, with him seeming to stare at my face my hazel eyes locking with his blue. 

“Pleasure to meet you Henry. Big fan of your work.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well Aura. I’m excited to be working with you as well.”

It was then that I guess he realized he was still holding my hand and he let go quickly only to pull out my chair, nervously, actually tripping over the edge of the chair slightly but not falling. The cool persona he had to world, out the window for a split moment, but that was okay because I liked it...

*The next day* 

I was sitting in the make-up artist chair, as they worked to make me look as scripted for our first scene. I was going over my lines when I heard the door to the trailer opened and closed, the next to me groaning under the new weight in it. I smiled when I realized who was now occupying the chair.

“Good morning Aura. Sleep well I hope?”

Henry looked fresh, wearing sweatpants and a black zipped-up hoodie. No product in his hair, and freshly shaved as opposed to the light stubble he sported yesterday night. Honestly we got along really well, which was a relief in terms of working. We actually vibed during our talking last night. He was a breath of fresh air in this industry to have a conversation with a man who wasn’t talking to my boobs.  We just laughed and joked most of the night, leaving off with him agreeing to help me out in the gym, I also think I left feeling like my soft admiration for a man I didn’t know to a man I kinda knew to a real world potential crush that could crush me and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

So now here I was sitting next to a man that I was attracted to. I could smell the trouble brewing.

“Yes, I did. It’s always a little difficult getting used to sleeping in a bed that’s not my own.”

“I have the same problem. Takes me a few days to adjust to the time change and a different bed. I am usually up all night until then despite being tired from a long day. I find that working out helps me get back on track, if not watch some television.”

“Yeah I’m more the type to watch TV or a movie and I’m out like a light. Thank god we don’t have a super early call time for the first couple of weeks.” 

“You ready to go out there and hate my guts on screen?”

“Sure, as long as you are ready to hate mine.”

“I am going to have to put my acting skills to the test. This would be easier if you were a horrible person.”

“Excuse me for not being a drag on your life Cavill. I think this would be easier for me too if you hadn’t endeared me to your dog and told me about your terrible bullying experience. I can’t actually hate you now.”

We laughed along with those in the trailer and as I was ushered into wardrobe I had to cut off those butterflies in my stomach and focus on doing my job....

A/n: So tell me what you think? If you want to read more let me know. Thank you for taking the time to read this little piece of crap I managed lol

[intersex-ionality]

I’m sorry for asking but I cannot seem to find any answers. I see a lot of stray anti posts complaining about hazbin hotel, and I can’t for the life of me understand them because I haven’t seen the show. I read a summary of the plot, but perhaps you could explain better. What is it and why do so many hate it (and why have I seen no fewer than 4 unique posts claiming it’s “what happens when you let billdip shippers make things”?)

Now, I was never a billdip shipper, but I suppose I can see the, like, similarity in vibes between Alastor (a demonic radio host with untold evil powers and who speaks in a 1930s radio jockey voice), and Bill.

And since antishippers hate Bill and they also hate Vivienne Medrano, the attempt to compare “billdip” to an entire original cartoon property is, I guess, a logical connection for them.

But let me be clear: there’s absolutely fuck or all that can be said to parallel the popular interpretation of billdip, in no small part because there no Dipper character, and in much larger part because of Alastor extremely rejects all romantic, sexual and even platonic advances.

Antishippers hate Hazbin Hotel because they hate the woman who came up with and spearheaded the project. They loathe Vivienne Medrano for being a successful independent artist capitalizing on the desperate need in the general viewing public for the bright colors, musical numbers, and zany antics that only animation can provide, but without the stifling restrictions of being targetted towards children. Most “adult” animation is focused on being drab or viscerally disgusting as a form of schadenfreude humour. And while children’s animation certainly fills that bright and zany niche, because it is obligated to adhere to the morality of various broadcasters, it’s often very suffocated in what it can or cannot do or say.

The aesthetic that HH/HB has created is clearly a callback to two major styles of animation: the adult-aimed slapstick of early Warner Brothers, and the long-and-lanky exaggerated flailing limbs that were popular as a design choice in low budgets (TV, off-brand film) and fandom animation in the late 2000s.

Since this style of animation is also associated heavily with fandom’s last big burst of creative and sexual freedom before the whole “no boundaries, no barriers, the search algorithms can and will put porn on every child’s dashboard” disasters of 2013-2015, some people are naturally off-put by it, because it reminds them of the time a bunch of corporate overlords decided that they should destroy their own platforms. For whatever reason (it’s the capitalism, probably), people blame individual artists for this trash fire rather than the platform holders that purposefully destroyed organization and boundaries between groups in a desperate bid for ad revenue.

Antishippers have a deep-seated reflex reaction towards hating that art style. You can see it in the hatred of HH/HB, but also in the hatred of things like, “cringey once-ler fans” and of “people who draw all the homestuck like twinks,” and "people who draw Pearl like a man” and all kinds of other places.

Additionally, Vivienne Medrano was at the centre of a few other antishipper fiascos, because her previous projects involved what they call a “pedophilic student-teacher relationship between a child and an adult.” Of course, in truth, the relationship in question is between an 18 year old student and her 19 year old student-tutor, but when have anti-shippers let facts get in their way.

Likewise, she made a living for a while taking commissions for (SFW) furry art work, and has always had a very positive relationship with the furry community (despite not being a furry herself). People upset by her success as an artist are also quick to say that she has sex with animals, “like all furries do,” because as we all know, calling queer artists sexual cirminals is Good Praxis that has Never Caused Harm /sarcasm.

In effect, Vivienne Medrano is a perfect storm of things anti-shippers hate: successful queer creators who refuse to assimilate to heteronormativity; successful creators of color who refuse to assimilate to white respectability; unrepentantly proud of her art; unafraid to engage with sexual themes in a fun rather than puritanical and hateful way; popular in the late 2000s/early 2010s; an ascended fan who was able to turn her fandom credentials into a successful professional project.

Their hatred for all of these facts about her are presented in a way that lets them feel good about lashing out at someone they dislike/are envious of. Namely, by saying that her work is an act of sexual, racial, or gendered violence, rather than, you know, fictional and fun.

HH/HB is not somehow a perfect piece of art. I have made my own discomfort with facets of it very clear. And there are flaws other than my wariness of rehabilitation themes.

Some of the sound design is overwhelming, with a few scenes bordering Johnny Test levels of excessive sound effects; in some cases the editing has clipped too much quiet-space between the presentation of a joke and its punchline; those traits combined with the lack of closed captioning can make the show very hard to process for someone like me who has difficulty with speech.

The immense budgetary constraints of the animation can sometimes be seen in framerate dips or in peculiar background details. Zoomed out shots of the cast as an ensemble are particularly identifiable as places where what would have been filler art in a higher budget production were ultimately left in because there wasn’t time or money to replace them.

The show is extremely upfront about sexuality and especially queer and professional sexuality, which can easily be off-putting to people. Conservative Fox News hosts’ extreme homophobia and violence are put on full display--for the purpose of mocking them for being enormous sacks of shit, but on display nonetheless--which can likewise be uncomfortable.

At one point you see the clearly exposed brain of a cartoon egg, which I won’t lie, makes me gag every time it happens, no matter how stylized and brief the shot. (Why! Does the egg! Have a brain inside it!!!)

But, unironically, HH/HB is the best series of adult animation I have seen in probably a decade or more. Maybe in my entire life. Prior to this, the only option for adult animation that isn’t rooted in sadism or grey-beige palettes was anime, and the design direction and acting of anime are ultimately very different than that of western slapstick.

Obviously, not every anti-shipper is so outraged because they envy the success of an artist other than themselves. But a great many are fuelled by envy, either that they aren’t the success story, or that someone they perceive as The Enemy is a success story.

This is far from the first time that anti-shippers have proudly taken the same side as anti-queer bigots and as open and avowed racists, who also hate the show (for being gay, for featuring an interracial relationship, etc). It won’t be the last. But, for all that their actions are often indistinguishable from the queerphobes and the white supremacists, their motivations are at least meaningfully distinct.

[redstreakfox]

HAPPY MAO-LLOWEEN

To celebrate this glorious day of spooks and terrors, I’m posting my secret halloween submission for @shapeshiftinterest ! They wanted a story about Rufus and Reggie trying to get candy from the Pure Heart citizens. I ended up mixing a few of their ideas into one story since I loved them so much. I really hope you enjoy it! :) and a shout out to @maomaosmother for organizing this whole event, it’s been a lot of fun to watch. You can read the fic here at AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258122

Or down below the tag:

Any con artist worth their salt will tell you the number one rule is to always conduct yourself as if you’re being watched. It’s always meant as a formality, an adage passed around to remind oneself that even the smallest slip up could land you broke and in the nearest jail cell. Or, in rarer cases, crawling through a sewer after being pummeled by a five year old. Tonight, to Rufus’ annoyance, that thieving proverb was going to be taken far, far too literally than he would have liked.

Looking high up above the arching gate that leads into Pure Heart Valley’s kingdom, he saw the crown jewel he knew he’d never be able to have. Not even if he planned the largest heist of his career over the course of eight-and-eighty years did he think he’d have the slightest sliver of a chance in stealing it. It didn’t matter anyway, though. The Ruby Pure Heart wasn’t the focus of tonight’s current plan.

Thank god, too.

Staring back at him, from its place perched up on the mountaintop, was the visage of a ghastly jack-o-lantern; a hellish fire burning through its eyes and an upturned grin carved entirely out of malice. It was a ghoulish, frightening image projected across the entire surface of the heart shaped ruby, an homage meant to accentuate the ongoing Halloween festivities. And no matter where Rufus stood, whether there at the gate’s entrance or from the miles and miles back that he and Reggie had travelled through to arrive here, it was as if those fire haunted eyes were following him closely all the same.

Most likely the work of that peacocking king and his damned chameleon sorceress.

Nevertheless, he had a twofold scheme to accomplish that night and thus had no intention of letting any harvest season horrors deter him from it. He held out a hand in front of Reggie to stop him and then pointed it further to his left, indicating for the raccoon to follow him into a more discrete section of the woods that rung the outside of the kingdom’s walls. Settling into the shadowed underbrush, the fox pulled out from behind him a large burlap sack.

“So, what’s the plan again Rufus?” the raccoon asked, threading his fingers together as he watched the conniving fox dive arms deep into the sack. From out of it, Rufus retrieved a matching bag and handed it to his companion.

“This Hallow’s Eve, my furry friend, we’ll be engaging in a rousing rendition of trick-or-treat,” Rufus grinned. “Tricks for them. Treats for us. Tricks especially for that blasted sheriff and his snivelling cohorts.”

“But, won’t they recognize us? They didn’t seem to like us too much last time.”

“Reggie, you mean the world to me but this is why I come up with the plans. Remember when I told you to start practicing different voices? To see if you could mimic a certain one? Well, look around you.”

The raccoon began swiveling his head in every direction he could, puzzled at what he was meant to find other than dirt and trees. The fox merely rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t mean literally, Reg. It’s Halloween, the day when adults and youth alike hide themselves behind all sorts of masks and costumes to procure as much candy as they can,” he said, reaching once more inside his bag to fetch a pair of what seemed to be deflated skins; one as black as midnight while the other shone moonlit white overlayed here and there with patterns of brown. “And I believe maybe it’s time we start cashing in on the fun as well.”

The second con-artist rule, one that works well in many professions, is to always learn from your adversaries. Rufus could admit that when it came to Pure Heart Valley he had grown too complacent. The arrival of two new sheriffs were variables he hadn’t anticipated. Their use of pressed nylon suits to pretend to be other people was a tactic Rufus had anticipated even less.

He still woke up in a rush every now and then from the memory. The cat’s mocking smile appearing out of that tiny blue body, the nightmarish drill that had ripped through his partner’s head before Rufus had any idea what was happening. Reg, meanwhile, thought the entire ordeal had been hilarious in hindsight. Easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one who watched…

Regardless, it was a plan that (unfortunately) had worked near flawlessly, and it was a plan that Rufus now conspired to use himself. It was easy enough once he knew what to do. Finding the suit maker had been the first step, all it took was finding any talented tailor that practiced just even the smallest amount of magic, an occurrence that was fairly common in this day and age. The more difficult task came in collecting samples of who they needed the suits to resemble.

Pure Heart Valley was known for being a monster magnet. It was why the valley had needed a protective shield in the first place. Whether it was just a badly located area or the work of the Ruby Pure Heart attracting the creatures itself, the kingdom faced its fair share of attacks on a regular basis. It was during one of these episodes that Rufus saw an opportunity.

While he had Reg sneak into the city itself to steal what he needed from a handful of citizens distracted by the monster fight, Rufus, in turn, went to forage for hairs throughout the then empty sheriff’s department. To his excitement, it wasn’t the only valuable item he came across in his search.

“We’re going to have our fill of candy and our fill of revenge, getting those do-gooders the same way they got us,” the fox said, handing the badger suit over to Reg. “We’ll put these outfits on and mess around Pure Heart tonight as the sheriffs, using their authority to snag all the sweets and running their names through the mud in the process.”

Reggie looked at tentatively at the white nylon in his paws. “How do these even work? I’m like way too small for this to fit me.”

“Reg, both you and that badger somehow fit inside your tiny body, remember? They obviously work through magic. This isn’t some sort of cartoon show,” Rufus said. “Now help me fit inside of this.”

It was a while later, after a good half hour of struggling and stretching and preening, that the two bandits stood there wholly transformed into new people. With their appearance now in order, the pair set about preparing a decoy treat bag, filling it with a sizeable amount of pine straw and leaves found strewn about the forest floor. Once that was finished, Rufus slung the decoy over his shoulder while Reggie kept the empty one close to him.

Rufus, nodding, then led the two of them past the thinning line of trees and out into the open space just before the kingdom’s gated entrance. The fox, turning his head down to look at the raccoon before remembering that that night he would be needing to look up instead, threw his arms out wide in a grand gesture, “And now, let the show begin.”

Spinning back around, the disguised fox threw his weight against the wooden doors and pushed them open, revealing the warm glow of quaint rows of shops newly masqueraded in all sorts of Halloween decorations. The main fountain, the centerpiece of the starting plaza, ran blood red that night thanks to artificial coloring. Sweetypies of all shapes and sizes milled about the area, the ebb and flow of their mild-mannered chit-chat flowing around the two visitors in a steady hum.

The third rule to remember is that anyone who falls for a ruse once could always be made to do so again, and luckily for Rufus, this was a kingdom full of rubes he once had tied around his fingers not just once, or twice, but for three consecutive years. Or at least, it would have been three had two certain sheriffs and their shrieking bat brat not interfered with schemes they had no business meddling in.

Now, however, he had the chance to reclaim it all once more, even if just for a few fleeting hours. And for a night of sweets, what better place to start than in the baking district?

Muttons… Mittens? ...the yellow bakery mouse, whatever her name was, had been a personal favorite of Rufus’ during their Takes-giving day outings. Her offerings were never known for being on the expensive end, always usually an assortment of foods she had baked that morning, but Rufus never really cared when their taste more than made up for a lack of dollar amounts. And tonight, he planned to go straight to the source.

It was only two firm knocks before she answered her door, standing there dressed as a sunflower, a wooden spoon in one hand and a mixing bowl in the other as she stirred its contents.

“Oh, Sheriff Mao Mao, Badgerclops, I’m surprised to see you two not in costume. Where is your little deputy, Adorabat?” she asked.

“That little nuisance is probably eating out of a garbage can somewhere,” Rufus responded, trying to imitate a gruffer tone of voice. From the quizzing look the mouse suddenly gave him, he figured his voice, his response, or both was throwing her off. Unfortunately, being the sole plan maker, he hadn’t had the time to practice with his voice like he had intended. At least the nylon suits seemed to be properly working.

“Are you all right, Sheriff? You aren’t really sounding like yourself,” Muffins said, her stirring hand paused. Rufus simply stood there, mouth hung open and eyes wide as he wondered if attempting another response would only make things more suspicious. Thankfully, however, a large white badger stepped out in front of him.

“No need to worry, Muffins. This idiot’s been sick all morning. Probably from all of the doorknobs around town he’s been licking,” Reggie responded. Rufus looked up dumbfounded at the back of his partner’s head, astounded both at Reggie’s unusual quick thinking and how well his voice matched that of the badger’s. He had even managed to remember her name.

Thank goodness at least one of them was able to pull this off.

Rufus leaned around the side of the large body in front of him and offered the bakery mouse a weak smile. Her expression seemed to soften at that, her hand going back to stirring.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that sheriff, I think. What brings the two of you to my shop tonight? Here to try my new spider cookies? Some pumpkin cobbler?” Muffins asked.

“Oh, we’re here to steal-,”

Rufus stepped in front of Reggie and made a sudden show of coughing, both to play up being sick and to cut off his partner from talking. “Seize, we’re here to seize a certain portion of your baked assets, my dear, for inspection. We’ve heard rumors of residents getting sick from some of the treats that have been passed around tonight and we’ve been making the rounds to see who’s responsible.”

“‘My dear’?” Muffins quoted him with a frown. “Well, I can assure you, sheriff, everything I’ve made today, tomorrow, forever, is done with the utmost care. Not a single person has ever been dissatisfied with anything coming out of my shop.”

Rufus leaned in, bringing his face closer to hers, “Then you should have nothing to worry about, hm?” He then stepped past her, ignoring her cries for him to stay outside. Reggie, following closely behind, locked the door behind him as Muffins tried to step through.

She hammered her fists against the door to no avail. Meanwhile, the two con men went to task raiding through her pantry and collecting as many baked goods as they wanted while still leaving plenty of room in Reggie’s sack for more of that night’s offerings. Upon opening the door, they found the little mouse seething on the other side of it.

“Sorry for the wait, my dear, we’ll have these tested out and get the results back to you as soon as we can,” Rufus said. The words had barely passed his lips before a sudden movement caught his eye. The fox ducked just in time to avoid the bowl Bakery Mouse had thrown at him.

“You will be sorry!” Muffins yelled at them. “Just wait till I call… till I call-”

“Who? Us?” the disguised fox asked as a laugh escaped him. “Sorry, citizen, the sheriff’s department has received your complaint and we’re afraid there’s nothing that can be done. Now, do try and keep yourself from causing a scene, won’t you? You’ll frighten the children,” Rufus said, stepping around the angry mouse and out onto the street again.

“Disorderly conduct is an arrestable offense, and we’ve got plenty of cell space!” Reggie yelled back towards her as he ran to catch up with Rufus, his voice still a perfect imitation.

The next couple of hours followed that near exact pattern. The two tricksters would come across a group of trick or treaters or residents passing out candy and whisk away their sugary confections under threat of legal action, sowing discord amongst the townsfolk when they could. Pretty soon, Reggie found his bag near full with only just enough room for potentially one more victim.

“This should do wonderfully for now, Reg,” Rufus said, lifting the bag as high as he could to test its weight. “That sheriff and his partner look like a fool now to half the town and we’ve got enough sweets here to topple a dentistry empire,” he grinned. He expected to hear a gleeful response from his partner, but when none came, he looked up to find Reggie staring dead faced out past the fox. “Reg?” Rufus asked.

“I can’t believe Muffins just gave you a free cobbler like that!” he heard a voice scream from somewhere yards behind him. He recognized that shrill voice, could picture the small blue bat it belonged to, and its sudden presence caused the fox to freeze right where he stood.

“More like she threw it at him, Adorabat,” he heard another voice chime, this one belonging to the real badger and not the fake one Rufus stood next to.

A growl cut through the air, “She’s just lucky I clean myself as much as I do! This could stain my fur if I let it sit long enough!” the growl said, morphing into a voice.

And there he was, the person Rufus had been hoping to avoid that night more than anyone.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’re just gonna hate licking cobbler off yourself for the rest of the night,” he heard the badger reply to the cat, their voices sounding even closer. They were definitely headed towards them. “What’s up with tonight anyway? Everyone’s been acting real weird around us, like we attacked them or something.”

Suddenly, Rufus heard Little Blue gasp, “Look, it’s us!” And then, out of nowhere, the little bat was there hovering just in front of his face. Instead of her normal wings, however, she wore costumed sleeves that resembled those of a fairy instead. Around the top of her head rung a thin silver loop of metal. A thin line of that same metal stretched out and away from the loop, and attached to its end was a white cardboard speech bubble pointed at the bat with the words ‘Hey, listen!’ printed across it. “Aw, well, it’s you two at least,” she said.

“Adorabat! You can’t just fly up to strangers like tha-... oh, wow, it actually is us dude,” the badger said, their voices now merely feet away. Rufus, finally mustering up the courage, turned around to meet them.

The badger, for his costume, was sporting a forest green tunic with a matching pointed green cloth hat, a plastic sword held haphazardly in his left paw. The cat, meanwhile, ignoring the splotches of cobbler, wore a short red wig with a shiny jewel affixed upon the middle of his forehead. The rest of his attire seemed like it was meant to be worn by one who would be found out wandering the desert. On top of his left paw was seen the imprint of a glowing yellow triangle.

The feline paused for a second at seeing his own self standing across from him, and then an open mouthed grin burst forth that lit up the entirety of his smug face.

“Ha! I knew the king couldn’t be right! See? There are people here that like me. Even enough to dress up like me,” the cat said, his chest puffed out to be as big as his ego. Then, his stance faltered, his expression shifting into one of hesitation, “Enough to dress up... too much like me, actually.”

“I don’t know man, I think it’s kinda neat,” the badger chuckled. Reggie, for his part, began playfully mirroring his twin’s movements as best he could, even going so far as to throw out a similar laugh.

“Ahhh, wait, never mind. It’s officially creepy now,” the real badger said, his good eye gone wide at hearing his own voice thrown back at him. Internally, it was all Rufus could do to keep himself from taking a swipe at his partner in frustration.

“All right, just who exactly are you-,” the cat began when a new timbre voice, appearing from out of nowhere, suddenly cut him off.

“Oh, sheriffs!”

‘For the love of god, no. Please, anyone but him,’ Rufus inwardly swore.

From out of a nearby side street emerged the carefully curated image of a regal street urchin. Careful rips and artistically placed smudges marked his dirty clothes, giving off the appearance of someone who spent most of their time living out on the streets rather than inside a home. The effort was wasted, however, as, under that ridiculous get up, it was still obviously Pure Heart Valley’s king. His perfectly coiffed mane and authoritative voice was a dead give away, not to mention that only feet away from him was his avian servant; a creature that followed the king more closely than his own proper shadow could.

“Your Grace,” the cat said, his attention now diverted to the newcomer, “what are you wearing?”

“Are you supposed to be some sort of smelly clown?” the bat confusedly asked.

“Oh, goodness no! I’m around the three of you enough for that as it is,” the lion frowned. “As you are all well aware, tonight is another year of Pure Heart Valley’s wonderful Hallow’s Eve festivities. As such, I am observing the time honored tradition of costuming myself as someone I am never able to be. To put myself into another’s slippers as one might say,” he chuckled. “Quite. And so for this year’s engagement, I have decided to become… you,” he finished with a bow.

“Me?” the bat asked incredulously.

The primly lion rolled his eyes and sighed, “No, child, not you, specifically. You, as in, all of you,” he said, waving his arms out in a sweeping gesture. “I have decided to let you all enjoy mine presence this night as someone that I know I mean the world to, as someone that whom without I would be nothing. Yes, I have dressed and paraded myself around tonight as the prototypical image of one of my many loyal subjects. To see what you all see, to live as you all do. I even walked myself down from the palace without being carried, see?”

The group turned their gaze over to the lion’s expressionless servant, and while it was true that on this night he was without the king’s usual recliner, he was instead found to be towing a bag that had to be at least ten times bigger in size than the bird himself. And from its opening, if one looked hard enough, could be seen what appeared to be more candy than any one person should ever have the right to own. Unless, of course, that one person just happened to be a certain wily fox.

Rufus could already feel the drool pooling in his mouth at the sight of it.

“Do you really think we all dress like tha-”

“Ah bup bup!” the king said, waving a hand in front of the badger’s face to silence him. “I did not come here to find you three and squander my time with useless jibber jabber. It has come to my attention that you all have been skulking around town and hoarding up all the candy you could find for some sort of poisonous investigation. Naturally, I have come to preemptively bring you mine own as my safety is of the utmost importance. I expect you to deliver my candy back to me first when you have finished, of course.”

“Investigation? We haven’t been conducting any investigation,” the cat said. “This is,” he wrinkled his nose, “our night off.”

“Yeah!” the blue bat said, flitting around before landing on one of the badger’s shoulders. “And we haven’t gotten no candy neither,” she said.

“Everytime we try, the Sweetypies just start yelling at us,” the badger chimed in.

“Well, then how do you explain that?” the king asked, pointing an accusing finger at Rufus and Reggie who had been both hoping to silently slip away at any moment.

The cat then struck up a steady, measured pace towards Rufus. The look on his face turned the fox’s blood to ice as it coursed through him. His heartbeat seemed to stop, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if it was ever going to start again. The cat grabbed a handful of the silken cape the fox wore and brought his face inches from his own.

“Ok, whoever you two are. I want answers, now! What kind of mischief have you been causing in my jurisdiction tonight?” the sheriff asked, his tone carrying an obvious threat underneath.

Rufus had hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this, but thankfully he had prepared for this situation just in case. Swiftly, he reached as far as he could into the bottom of his bag until his fingers wrapped around one of the small metal balls he had lifted from the sheriff’s headquarters.

“Reggie, now!” the fox cried. He pulled the item out from his sack and threw it as hard as he could directly at the ground in front of him. A sudden explosion sounded, and in seconds the courtyard they had all been congregating in was filled with a blinding smoke. The cat, in his confusion, loosened his grip on Rufus’ collar, allowing him to wriggle free of his captor’s grasp.

“Please tell me this isn’t going to mess up my mane!” the lion shouted.

“My smoke bombs! How?” the cat yelled out in between coughs.

“Dude, I told you we didn’t take them!”

“I can’t see! I can’t see!” the bat cried.

This was exactly the outcome Rufus had been hoping for...

Rule number four: always have an escape plan.

In the surrounding chaos of the situation, the two con artists swapped bags and broke off running in different directions. Rufus carrying the real bag instead of the decoy was only part one in his attempts to confuse his potential pursuers. The fox raced down as many dark alleyways as he could, and when he finally thought he had some time, he paused in the shadows of a run down looking avenue.

Quickly, he tore out of his sheriff costume and took a deep breath of fresh air for what felt like the first time that night. He reached inside the freshly discarded skin and pulled out another one (it looked like a crocodile from what he could tell.)

Now that he had been caught, it was time to become someone new again to truly confuse those do-gooders. He slipped his second disguise on as fast as he could and tentatively crept his way out onto a crowded well lit street, swirling amongst the kingdom’s residents like just another grain of sand along the beach.

Running like a criminal would only rouse new suspicions against him. He needed to blend in with everyone else.

Rufus strolled around the city streets as innocently as he could, taking his time as he meandered about on his way to a designated meeting point. He had elected to take the long way around in getting there, hopefully giving Reg, who also should have changed outfits, enough time to find it and be there waiting.

It was a half hour later when Rufus saw it in the distance, a small public garden nestled in a secluded area of the city, and as expected, he saw someone standing there to greet him. The small pink rhino, sitting among a plot of tulips, warily looked up towards him. For some reason, he was bedecked in what appeared to be surgeon’s scrubs.

“I don’t have time to ask you where you got that, Reg, but I will commend you on the decision. It’s a nice little touch,” Rufus said. “Though, I will say I’m surprised you decided to be that annoying pink gremlin.”

The fox gasped as the rhino pulled out a shimmering scalpel from god knows where and pointed it at him.

“That’s professor-doctor-surgeon gremlin to you, Gary,” the rhino snarled. “And what’s up with your voice?” he asked, frown quickly morphing into a malignant smile, “Oh, you’re probably here for one of my patented throat surgeries, ain’t ya? You know the drill, no questions or insurance needed.”

Rufus had to hand it to him, Reggie was keeping in line with his role like a class actor, but the night was being wasted and he no time to sit and dwell on it.

“Look, let’s just swap bags and be done. That sheriff is still probably scouring every nook and cranny for us and I just want this whole thing to be done and over with,” the fox said. He reached over and grabbed the rhino’s nearby sack, pausing as he tried to pull it. Was the decoy always this heavy?

After gaining some momentum, the fox managed to sling the bag over his shoulder and made his way casually out of the garden.

“Hey! You can’t just take that! I need that for my medical practice!” the pink rhino yelled in his direction.

“Yes, yes, we get it Reg. Now remember, eastern gates, twenty minutes,” the fox called back to him.

From here, Rufus wanted to stay hidden until he made it out of the city. Sneaking down another alley, he changed costumes for a third and final time, a frog creature whose arms seemed too short for clapping. He followed down a multitude of side paths and lanes just barely wide enough for him to walk down, all while keeping himself within viewing distance of the kingdom’s most outer wall. He knew that as long as he continued this way he’d eventually find the eastern exit and avoid any unwanted attention.

He breathed a sigh of relief some fifteen minutes later once he finally found them. He didn’t know whether it was by luck or by fate that the gates stood there unguarded, its keepers had more than likely been too seduced by the call of that night’s tempered horrors and left. Rufus raced through the doors and out into the smothering darkness of the woods beyond.

He had just passed the first few pine trees when he ran into someone blocking his path, toppling them both over to the ground in the process.

“Rufus, buddy!” a familiar voice greeted the fox. Looking over, he saw his raccoon partner sprawled out on the ground near him, already out of costume and back to his normal appearance. The fox jumped up quickly and tore out of his own disguise, happy to once again see the orange fur underneath.

“Reggie, old pal! We did it!” he cried, scooping the raccoon up and into an uncharacteristic hug. “I knew we could outwit that imbecile sheriff if given another chance,” he smiled as he set his beaming partner back down on his own two feet. “Now tell me, where’s the candy?”

“What do you mean? Don’t you have it?” Reggie asked. “I never saw you at The Garden and so I came straight here after changing. I’ve been waiting out here for like an hour.”

Rufus looked at the raccoon as if he had lost his mind. “But we did meet,” the fox said. “You were there on time and we swapped bags, you were that disgusting pink fellow. We talked and everything,” the fox hesitated, thinking. “You did go to the garden, right?”

“Yeah, The Garden, that little cafe we always visited every Takes-giving,” Reggie smiled.

Rufus’ stomach dropped out from under him.

“Reg, no, I meant an actual garden, we-,” the fox paused and looked at the sack he had brought. “But, if that wasn’t you, then that means…” Rufus thought back to the scalpel that had been waved in his face and shuddered. “So then, what is this?” he asked. He reached down and pulled open the bag only to be greeted by jar upon jar of pristine, premium grade mayo.

In that moment, Rufus felt as if his brain was going to short circuit from anger. He turned to Reggie’s decoy bag and kicked it, knocking it over and spilling out a mass of spruce leaves and pinecones. “What is wrong with the people here!” the fox shouted out directionless into the night air.

“Rufus, hold on,” the raccoon implored, sidling up next to the fox and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. The fox took a few deep breaths, letting his expression relax before addressing his friend. He never wanted the raccoon to believe that his anger was ever directed at him, even if at times he was the cause of it. He cared about him too much for that.

“Yes, Reggie?”

“We still have this,” the raccoon smiled. He lifted his baseball cap to reveal a small pouch underneath. He grabbed it and tossed it to the fox who caught it. He could hear a myriad of candy wrappers rustling around inside, the smell of sweetness permeating neatly around the cloth.

He looked at it with surprise and then turned to his cohort.

“Reg, when did you-?”

“It was during all that smoke,” the raccoon said, proud of his witty thinking. “Before we traded bags I grabbed a few handfuls and stuck it in this pouch. It’s like you always told me, remember? Rule number five: ‘it’s always better to leave a heist with something rather than risk taking nothing.’”

The fox couldn’t even begin to hide his glee. “Oh, Reggie!” he exclaimed his bushy tail wagging around him. “I’m so proud that I could just about kiss you.”

The raccoon chuckled and playfully bumped the fox’s leg with his fist, “Just make sure to share some with me, Rufus.”

The fox smiled, “Reggie, I’d share the entire world with you if I could.” Bending over, he placed a paw on the top of Reggie’s head and teasingly ruffled his hair. “Now, how about we start heading home, hm? I’ll even let you have first pick of the treats.”

And then, finally, there was rule number six: through thick and thin, always have your partner’s back and treat them like the gift that they are.

[sparkesink]

Chapter 14:

Such Is, The American Dream

How Does One Write…

(When One Has Nothing To Write Upon?)

No Desperate Tragedy…

No Thrilling Woe.

My Rains,

(My Snout…)

Never Forced,

(Still Out.)

 The Most Difficult Task, 

(Writing Upon A Wim…)

Not Which Becomes A Light Source, 

(Discarded Amongst The Gray…)

But That Of The Smiles Which Roll Astray.

 The Memories That Stay,

Through A Drought-Full Snow…

Never…

(Really,)

Mattered…

We Always Destined…

(Take Such Blow.)

 I Had Never Imagined,

(The Difficulty…)

“Catch What You Sow…”

I Really Just Hope,

I Did Not Catch The Bow…

Allow Intellect,

(Power To Tow.)

Slow,

Sweet Ebb And Flow.

Only One Little Thing:

(Keep My Mind Low.)

 This Internet Shit Is Much Harder Than It Seems…

Seamless Integration,

Flawless Digital Frustration…

Hours Upon Hours Of Choices To Feed…

How Many Algorithm Marketing Targets Do I Need?

Constant Change,

(A Living Thing…)

Creating A Robot,

(Behind Your News Feed.)

Good Money Spent: 

(Just One Moment Of Your Time…)

Try Being More: 

Sensible, 

(Simply,) 

Speaking In Rhyme…

There Is No Easy Feet,

While Introducing Something New.

There Is No Target Audience,

(Per-say,)

In Lieu.

There Is No,

(One,)

Industry We Fall Within.

Shall We Write Code?

(Leaving Artistic Voice Shackled And Thin?)

Maybe The Camera Feel Cold?

While Contracts Come Tackled, 

(Spattered Upon Tin.)

How Can So Many Things,

All Come Shining Their Rings…

 And I’m Expected To Succeed…

(You Don’t Know:)

Not A Single Itch Of This Presentation…

Is Procured By Any Other…

(Than Me.)

One Little Girl,

Four Personalities…

All Separate In Their Beautiful Talents.

How Could Anyone Know…

(She Performs The Full Trapeze.)

Not A Building,

No Projects… 

(Between Groups…)

Just Me;

(Here,)

Trying Not To Cry.

Pushing A Project: 

(I Never Got To Practice.)

I Didn’t Go To College For Computer Science…

A Whole Degree Dedicated:

(The Science Of Marketing…)

I Didn’t Ask For This Work…

As It Laid It’s Beautiful Head Upon My Chest.

 I Was Given This Burden,

To Think And Create…

To Reach The Stars:

Give Them All Back… 

(Sensibly Late.)

 Heaven Forbid,

We Use Our Word,

To Speak…

(To Talk.)

Create Conversation,

(Substituting Reaction To Mock.)

 We Are Forced Language Of Societal Choosing,

From The Moment We Enter This World.

Here,

(Upon This Earth…)

Within This Reality,

At This Exact Moment In Time:

We Grow,

We Forget How To Talk…

We Let All Of The Bullshit Hide,

(Who We Really Are Inside.)

 That Happy Child,

Giggling With Your Mother…

She Raspberries Your Little Baby Belly.

She Kisses Your Forehead:

Promising Beauty Within Life.

Unconditional Love, 

(Regardless Societal Strife.)

Though, 

(At Some Moment…)

For Some:

Brief…

A Loss At Happenstance…

(A Loss Of Seconds To Breathe.)

For Others:

An Extensive Span Of Trauma And Fear,

Acceptance Washed,

(Blatantly Clear.)

 Do You Understand Fear?

Months Turned Years,

Consistent Fears:

Fear To Open The Front Door,

Fear Of Anything,

(Aside The Shore.)

I Broke Myself.

I Ignored Myself.

I Allowed Others To Abuse Me,

(Shamed The Woman I Could Be.)

I Feel Sick, 

Consistently At War:

I’ve Fought My Whole Life,

(My Truth Resides Within My Lore.)

 Do You Think I’m Privileged?

(I’ve Been Given A Hand Up?)

Could You Realize It All Came At A Price?

Do You Understand Manipulative Narcissistic Strife?

It Flows As The Waves Within The Sea,

(Maybe This Is Why It Consistently Captivates Me.)

 Though I Have Only Begun To Live This New Life:

One Of Health,

Truth,

Integrity,

(And Dignity…)

All Those Dark Memories:

Transparently Vibrant Through Stained Glass.

I’ve Been On This Emotional Ride Since Birth,

I Am Their Narcissistic Supply,

(Second Class.)

“My Worth”:

Highs And Lows,

“You’re Impressively Bland,”

“You’re Intelligently Stupid,”

“You’re Non Like The Rest,

As Soon As She Breaks,

Make Haste:

Take Her To The Test!”

Round And Round,

I Tumble Through Sea Foam,

An Eternity Caught,

(A Weightless Tomb.) 

 Little “B”,

So Soft And Sweet Was She.

She Crawled Beneath Her Bunk Bed,

Just A Moment To Breathe.

Forced To Obey,

Shunned If She Don’t Stay.

She Just Did Not Want To Play, 

(With That Little Girl,)

A Girl Who’s Cousin Fondled Her, 

(Post Six Years From A Six Year Old Twirl.)

She Moved Each Toy,

All Those Soiled Clothes,

She Placed Herself Perfectly…

Between The Mattress And The Floor.

She Only Six At The Time…

She Didn’t Understand, 

(Emotional Manipulative War.)

She Didn’t Understand, 

She Deserved Her Respect,

Her Heart Under-defined: 

(“Sore”.)

 She Hid Under That Bed,

Gasping For Breath;

Rocking Back And Forth,

Both Hands Entangled Her Head.

She Sat There Crying,

Though Silent She Must Be…

For If Anyone Found Her,

(Emotional Scrutiny.)

 She Learned To Sob Silently:

(No One Let’s The Girl Just Be.)

She Tucked Her Tears Within A Sock,

Bit Her Lip And Listened,

Counting The Clock…

Curious How Long She Could Disappear,

Before They Even Noticed,

“She’s Not Here.”

 One Hour,

Two?

(None Hadn’t A Clue…) 

Till Finally Her Mother Came Ringing Through…

She Heard Her Panic,

Thirty Minutes Gone By…

Is It Fucked Up,

She Enjoyed It?

(Hearing Mom Cry.)

 They Called The Police,

Worried She Had Been Taken;

She Finally Wiggled, 

(Mountains Of Emotion Shaken,)

Out Of Her Room,

(Snot Encasing The Entirety Of Her Face,)

Why Couldn’t You Understand,

(She Isn’t At Home In This Place.)

She Was Escorted To The Side Walk,

Directly Affront Her Claim.

She Sat Silent As The Officer Explain,

“You Cannot Hide From Your Parents,

This Is Bad.”

 So What If She Is Sad?

So What If She Has No Name,

So What If She Is Human,

So What She Lives In Shame?

She Is Six,

(Just Her Parents Property.)

Never Hit,

Welted Below The Belt…

(Emotionally Scarred.)

 Never Bled,

(Controlled,)

“The Person She Is… 

(Must Be Discard.”)

 “She Is Not Allowed To Be,

(The One She Is Meant To See,)

She Only Allowed To Be,

(The One I Want To See!)”

 Her Desires Shot,

Her Goals,

‘Just Silly Dreams…’

(Even Early Graduation Wasn’t Satisfactory To Thee.)

Her Dean’s List Scholars,

Scholarships At Sixteen…

“She Could Have Done Better,

Had She Only Listened To Me…

Had She Only Let Me Direct Her Life,

(Listened As A Sheep,)

Maybe She Would Be Normal,

Maybe She Wouldn’t Be… 

(A Fucking Head Case,)

Maybe She Would Finally Sleep.

She Could Live And Become ‘Normal’,

If She Would Only Just ‘Play The Game’…

Since She Refuse,

We Mock Her In Exasperating Blame.”

 Forward To Twenty-one Years,

(Now Enthralled Within Devine Game:)

A Rabbit Called,

His Eye Yellow Amongst A Brunette Mane.

He Scurried Diligently Amongst My Toes,

Furry Innocence Disregard Hidden Foes.

I Offered Him My Guidance,

A Compass Found,

(Hanging Amongst The Fir…)

 The Rabbit Shook His Tale In Great Exuberance,

My Third Eye Cringed Within Prominent Clairvoyance.

I Had Been Wandering For Days Amongst These Trees,

(I Hadn’t Expected To Find Creatures Such As These.)

The Rabbit Was First,

He Spoke Aloud,

(Whispered,)

Follow Me, 

(I’ll Show You Around.)

 All This Time Rummaging From Within The Trees,

Consistently Trudging Muck,

(Seeping Between The Leaves.)

 He Turned Timid,

Around And Around,

Figure-eights Between Each Tree:

Before A Days Pass,

He Guided Me,

Beyond The Forest Entrance, 

(Amass.)

 I Forfeited Precious Time Progressing,

(Before Encountering You!)

“I’m Back Where I Fucking Started!

You Beady Eyed Fool!”

 The Rabbit Appeared Different, 

(His Eye Gold Sprouting Orange:)

“Don’t You Get It?

I’m Not Here To Help You.

You Should Have Taken Interest, 

(Within Prior Warn.)

Enjoy Trudging Back,

Dusk Covers Within Mist Until Morn.”

 Then Out Of The Muck,

This Yellow-eyed Rabbit Disappear.

Leaning In Close With One Ear…

“FUCK!”

Kicking The Mud,

My Heart Sweltered Within My Chest,

My Knees Buckled,

(Demanded Rest.)

 One Should Never Follow The Rabbit:

(Fuck That Rabbit.)

Forgive My Language,

I Was Never One To Censor…

(I Should Have Procured A Sponsor.)

 Here,

Returned Upon The Beginning.

(Happy Anniversary To Me;)

3/14,

Another Beginning To Be.

I Suppose We Shall Try Again:

Follow My Heart,

Close What That Yellow Eyed Rabbit Left Tart,

Sever A Clean Part.

 Keep The Soul,

Sponge The Rest.

Remain Hopeful,

(This Is Not A Final Test.)

 I Suppose,

(To Me,)

It Seems Unbearable:

To Pull Myself From The Muck,

A Constant Reminder, 

Slivers Of Luck,

(Fuck.)

Purchased Clothing To Tuck,

To Be Taken Into Success,

Without A Harvey Weinstein Conclusion…

(Business Fueled By Your Sucking Skills;)

I Digress.

 No One Ever Talks About Modification Discrimination:

A Projected Judgmental Temptation,

Toward Self Expression.

Sighted Within The Way The Eyes Glaze,

Creases, 

(Between The Sinus,) 

Laze.

 Projecting Yourself As A Business Cog:

“Don’t Quit Your Job.”

 Bouncing Baby Blue,

Upon One Hip Or Two?

Can You Meet Next Wednesday?

Let Us Print Money For Few,

Don’t Mind The Toddler Fingers,

Find Purpose For My Mouth, 

(En Lieu.)

 Don’t Mind The Baby Babble,

(Mommy Wears Twenty Hats, Too.)

What Shall It Be Today?

Manning Landscape Stats?

Emotional Abuse? 

(Milk Toppled By Stray Cats.)

Mommy And Me,

Climbing Counters, 

(Refuse To Leave Be.)

Business Woman Performance:

A Joke,

(Scuffing Down Toke,)

Gaining Courage To Speak… 

(To Other Folk.)

 When Does This Feel Good?

When Does Satisfaction Creep My Soul?

(As I’m Told It Should.)

 Such An Interesting Observation;

(In Which I Stand Alone.)

Expressing My Soul… 

To Feel Sensation:

(A Cold And Lonely Tone.)

Choosing Printing Paper,

Juggling A Tired Toddler,

I Hold Her For Hours While Yawns Taper…

Which Ink Can Finally Coddle Her?

Could I Choose To Become A Cloud?

I Would Never Become “To Loud”.

I Would Never Drag Myself Through Sharpened Glass,

No Results Within My Mass.

I Could Be Beautifully Gazed Upon For All To See,

(While Remaining Far-away…)

Intact,

(With My Dignity.)

Removing Myself From Toxicity,

(Festering Within Such Simplicity.)

 I Dream Upon Days,

(Lost In Daze,)

With Him…

Fizzled Out Of Adolescent Faze.

Fingers,

(Twirling My Hair Up Within Them.)

Coffee In Bed,

Date Nights In Red,

Laughing,

Exuding Such Needed Encouragement Said.

“Good Morning Beautiful,”

Every Morning.

A Hazel Eye That Never Projects A Bore…

A Look That Never Dies,

Such Relationship, 

(Containing Exclusive Polite Lies.)

 Weekends In Adventure,

Dreamer Talk Of Tenure,

Clouds Positioned To Lend An Ear…

Speaking Of Peace And Beauty,

Without A Reminder Of The Muck…

Gaining Momentum…

(Circling Near.)

 Appreciation Of The Highs,

Consideration Of The Lows,

(An Anchor Lent Each Time It Shows.)

Walks Along The Beach,

Ability To Intellectually Teach…

A Woman, 

(Who Is Anything But What She Wants To Be.)

A Smart Ass,

(Behind An Extended Vocabulary.)

Something Equivalent,

(Capable In Loving What Cannot Become Seen.)

 Am I Lost?

Naïve?

Exclusive Denial Of What My Soul Is Screaming?

My Tower Leaning,

My Foundation Feening…

(Freely Poured Concrete…)

In Which Will Not Crack Under Pressure.

A Sentiment Of Force Capable To Hold,

(A Collapsing Infrastructure,)

Containing Such Vast Weight,

(Others Incapable Of Supportive Toll.)

A Crumbling “Eighth World Wonder,”

Supporting It’s Self Under Continuous Richter…

Acknowledging Important Features,

Cracking Off Remaining Seizures… 

(Demolishing Pertinent Structures…)

Praying To A One-way Conversation…

(Within Myself.)

 I Am Sick Of Being Sick.

Left Alone,

(Head Filled With Ideas Of “Home.”)

 Just Let This Pressure,

(Excruciating Weight From Within My Chest,) 

Dissipate…

Allow “Sensibly Late” To Mark Date…

I’ve Only Ever Desired Peace,

(Within Myself.)

 Countless Influential People Project The Same Bore:

“Follow Your Dreams, Determination Hangs Sore…”

When Does A Lifetime Of Unfortunate Events End?

When Will I Be Given Time To Mend?

What Is Time But A Linear Bend?

If There Is No Beginning…

(Subsequently,)

There Is No End.

 All Versions,

Within All Realities,

Upon All Timelines:

(Alive And Vibrant,) 

Simultaneously Thrive.

 Amongst A Paradox,

(Created Within Such A Reality, 

Accepted Through Current Consciousness…)

Somewhere, 

Along Some Timeline,

Within Such Reality,

Procured Through Such A Paradox…

In Which I Have Made This Work Worth Something.

 At This Very Moment,

In A Linear Timeline,

Upon A Parallel Paradox;

I Have Succeeded.

 The String Of Unfortunate Events Severed…

The Curse Lifted From My Ora.

I’m Left Staring Within This Same Pacific Ocean,

(Washed Away With The Sand.)

 What Does This All Mean?

(Why Me?)

Why Have I Been Chosen To Endure This Strife?

Why Must A Devine Test Be Inflicted Upon This Life?

Why Am I Here?

(A Breeze Guided Me Near.)

Why Hasn’t This Happenstance Become Clear?

When Will This Trepidation Recede?

Will I Remain Humble If Encased Within Greed?

Eight Years Of Sorrow And Woe,

(Why Does This Fucking Novel Breed Such Daunting Tow?)

 WHY AM I HERE?

WHY CAN I NOT SEE CLEAR?

AM I FACED TO ACEND WITHIN THE MIRROR?

WHY AM I FUCKING HERE?!?

 What’s This Ship Got To Do With Anything?

Why These Sands?

Why This Bay?

It Felt So Natural,

(Before We Came To Stay…)

The Cosmos Were Ringing,

Guiding Me Amongst This Shore,

Now Enthralled In Silence,

Saturated Within Thirty Days,

(Blood And Pain,) 

Payment For This Lore.

 I Peer Amongst These Ruins,

(Sunken Deep Within Our Sands…)

What Does This Old Ship Have To Do With Anything?

What Am I Doing?

 I Moved My Family,

Upon Premonition And Happenstance:

Guided Transition With Ease…

I Just Cannot Find My Purpose… 

(Amongst These Seas.)

 It’s As Though I Should Just Call It;

(Wave My White Flag And Surrender.)

Live Within Death:

Pull My Life Together,

(Ascender.)

 I Cannot Seem To Convince,

Which I Am Meant

A Fruit Gathered, 

(From Purposeful Quince.)

 Am I Writing In The Wrong Direction?

(I Cannot Seem To Find My Way.)

What Could I Become?

In Such Case Of Succession?

 This Lore Is All I’ve Ever Known…

My Key To Contentment Unknown.

How Could I Continue This Dream?

(My Work Greatly Unseen.)

 I Came Here Upon This Day,

To Wave Goodbye To My Bay.

To Kiss My Waves One Final Day:

I Kiss The Earth Which This Tattered Ship Lay.

I Cannot Continue This Silly Nonsense,

I Must Learn To Become Practical;

Build A Wall Around My Heart,

Coated Kevlar Tactical.

 The Coroner Always Gets His Way,

(Impractical To Believe I Could Stay…)

 Something Happened:

(I Have Black Chunks Re-written Within My Memory…)

A Night Called An Instance…

A Body Arrested Through Our Back Gate…

I Couldn’t Recall The Melody…

A Tiny Girl,

Standing In Our Backyard So Late.

 I Saw The Police Escort Him,

(From Back Through To Front,)

Why Was I There?

Did I Come Out To Confront?

I Was Told Our Chow Chow Bit Him…

(That Couldn’t Become Correct?)

For Had This Been Truth,

My Jazmine Girl Would’ve Become Laid To Rest…

 Were We Victim To Common Burglary?

Or Maybe…

I A Victim Of Something Grotesque. 

Why Are All Other Moments, 

(Surrounding This,) 

A Blackened Mess?

 Just One Slide,

Seared Within My Psyche…

Just One Man,

Blood Dripping Down One Pant Upon A Lichee.

Two Officers Restraining Each Hand…

Walking Through My Back Gate;

My Mother Weeping Amongst The Blue And Red,

Authoritative Lights: 

(Illuminating A Common Cul-de-sac…)

Why Was I In Back?

How Did I Get There?

Where Is The Archive;

(These Memories In Which I Lack?)

 This Chapter Is Shit, Any-who.

Written From Within The Desperation:

An Unemployed Failure,

Female,

Tattooed, 

(And Equally Discriminated.)

 I Don’t Think Many Realize,

I Manage Traffic Analytics…

Do You Know What It Is Like?

Working Diligently Upon A Project;

Simultaneously,

Nineteen Months Only One…

One Single Human Came To Visit.

 Do You Know What It Is Like?

Explaining Brilliance: 

To Pinheads In Suits Of Murk?

Endless Determination,

Anxiety Loaded,

(Maximum Pulsation.)

 What Would The Common Human See?

If Only To Look Past This Cover,

Do My Tattoos Cause Anxiety To Flee?

Could It Be?

For What Purpose Could You Possibly Leave?

Pretending To Understand,

When I Prove Fact:

(You’ve Never Even Ventured One Page Through This Land,)

Though, 

You’ve Graciously Provided Patronize,

(Enveloping Strength In Which You Lack.)

 Such A Shame,

A Vortex Cannot Become Undeveloped, 

(Once Given Life To Breathe…)

This Story Cannot Become Untold,

(Reaction To Mature To Leave.)

 Could You Evaporate Within The Fog?

Lending An Ear Amongst This Slimy Log?

 Maybe It’s Just Ahead Of It’s Time…

Maybe,

(One Day…)

My Words Will Not Become Overlooked…

Maybe You’ll Investigate;

(A Thorough Understanding Of This Song.)

 I Make Others Feel Uncomfortable?

(Speaking My Truth Is Unavoidable…)

How Can You Possibly Judge?

(There Has Been No Company Enthralled Within My Work.)

This Story Lay Stagnant:

Tattered Memories Of A Warrior Lurk.

 Then Again,

Who Ever Cared About The Survivor?

Veterans Homeless,

Left Within Insanity Amongst The Street…

A Jungle Few Understand,

Portraying Images Of War,

Within Survival Upon Distant Land.

Have You Been Without Shelter?

Do You Understand The Terror?

Sleeping In A Tent,

Praying For A Lucky Start…

Sleeping In The Back Of A Festiva,

(Two Lovers Between Two Dogs Is An Art.)

 Have You Ever Woken Up On a Stranger’s Floor?

Thanking The Sun For Another Day Of Lore…

Have You Experienced A Soul Saturated In Blood Stains?

(Those Chosen For Greatness Are Greatly Maimed.)

Do You Understand What It Could Feel Like?

The Pain Of Hunger Outweighs Pain Of Plasma Donations,

Joining Medical Research Studies,

Finances Supplied Only A Few Brief Moments To Breathe…

And You Look At ME?

 “Don’t Quit Your Day Job…”

 I Should Petition The Gods In Which I Dedicated My Soul,

But Then…

That Would Become Wrath…

And In Doing So I Endure Disown, 

From This Pursuit Of Becoming “Whole”.

 I Ponder Amongst My Thoughts:

How Dare You?

Patronizing Something,

(You Never Even Gave A Chance.)

A Research Experiment In Sloth And Judgment:

Could One Become So Busy?

Not Even A Seconds Chance?

Before Discarded? 

(Lousy?)

 There Will Become A Day,

Where Those Whom Shunned,

Come Flowing In Throughout Our Bay…

They Will Pretend To Believe In Divine Things,

(I Know They Only Bare Steel Woven Strings…)

 I Shall Look You Within The Eye,

Plant My Courage As I Say,

“Please, Walk On By.

Your Money Is No Good Here,

For I Had Plans You Could Have Received…

Instead?

You Left Me,

Here To Bleed.

I Cauterized My Wounds,

I Had No Assistance From Greed-written Fools.

 There Will Become A Day:

One Glorious,

Relieving Day…

In Which I Will Have Gained This Courage,

Take My Stand,

Show Off This Pearl-Glass Spine,

The One Abandoned Upon Needful Time.

 I Will Build This Myself,

I Will Become Relentless…

I Will Show The Judged:

I Cannot Be Rendered Senseless.

 You Cannot Break Me:

I Am The Mother Reaper.

 “What Exactly Are You Doing?”

There She Was:

Vivian,

(In The Flesh,)

Sitting Amongst That Moss Covered Log,

(Before Me.)

 “Didn’t I Explain?

Blatantly Clear?

Your Swimming Within Muck…

It Will Devour You,

You Foolish Buck.

No One Wants To Drown Within Your Quicksand,

Where Is Your Land?

You Sit Around Here,

Swimming In Mud And Blood…

He’s Fucking Waiting For You!

Get Your Ass Up!”

 She Held No Consequence, 

(A Royal Demeanor:)

I Stop To Acknowledge My Current Surroundings,

Listen To Logic…

Internalize Her…

 “How Are You Here?

I Mean, How Are You Within This Chapter?

I Am Alone Here,

Left To Retrospect…

A Blackened Cell Within A Writing Table…

Expected To Secure A Sable Label.”

 “You’re Past That, My Love…

You’re Swimming In Muck.”

 My Eyes Jaunt Aside, 

Then To Beneath…

My Skin Consumed In The Sticky Black Tar…

The Skulled Outlines,

Consuming Me Full…

They Paralyze Your Senses…

Construct False Locations…

 “Don’t You Get It?

You’ve Never Left This Lost Forest.”

 “For Which Do You Mean I Never Left?”

I Already Pulled Myself Up Out Of The Muck,

Stuck,

Undeniable Quicksand…”

 “The Faster You Pull The Quicker They Tuck…

You Must Be Cunning,

Haven’t You Learned Anything?

You Have No Receipt For Luck.

You Must Will It Off,

It Shall Cling To Your Soul If Not.”

Returning Her Casual Ignorance With Scowling Stare:

“That’s All Your Advice?

‘Will It Off’ While You Just Fucking Sit There?”

 “Yeah, You’re Being Weak.

Should I Spell It Out For You?”

 She, Sitting Upon Her Log:

Joint Cherried Upon One Hand.

She, Lounged:

Weight Shifted Left To Mock,

Legs Crossed Amongst The Dew.

Stiff Fingers Find Smoke Inhalation:

Kissing Fingerprints Along Each Solemn Drag…

 “You Saw The Rabbit?”

 She Leans In Close,

(Three Inches From My Thigh…)

Whispers:

“It Hurts To Climb High?”

 “No,

How Are You Here?

This Breaks All The Rules…

I’m Not Near…

It’s A Black Coated Fear,

This Chapter Is Within Me,

I Cannot Be Within This Lost Forest…

This Is Not Real…”

 Within Blinking Seconds:

The Scenery Flicker…

A Dark Interrogation Room,

One Light With That Writing Table Central:

Drowning In Blacked,

Living Tar…

The Mud-blood Creatures Sleeking Upon My Mind…

 Gasping For Breath;

One Eye Opened From Between This Slim Kind,

Vivian Kissing Her Joint…

Watching Me Suffer…

The Slime Covers My Mind,

Desperate,

Desperation,

Within That One Table Cell…

 She Whispers:

“It’s Coming…

That Dream…

It’s Your’s To Capture, 

Doll-face…

 You Want Your Salvation?

Your Dreams Turn Reality?

Disregard Temptation?

Just Get Up,

Find Your Way Through This Lost Forest…

The Galaxies Owe You Reciprocated Payment,

You Already Succeeded…

Just Wake Up!”

 Devoured Within Blackened Tar,

Jade Sit Within The Corner Of My Cell,

(Right Far.)

Sobbing Amongst Herself…

 “I Have A Forest To Navigate,

I Cannot Save Her Here…”

 An Unseen Sensation,

A Delicate Hand,

Index And Thumb Clenching My Conch…

Ripping My Ear, 

Out From Within The Clear.

 “Find Your Will To Walk,

My Subtle Naive Friend…

You Better Prepare:

The Land Beyond This Is A Living Jungle,

The Circus Will Lead Your Final Test…

 It’s Coming For You,

All Those Passionate Desires: 

Pleads For The Best…

Living Light,

Past The Circus…

 Glorious Wonders You Could Never Imagine,

Endless Salvation…

Gifted To Those Suffering Temptation:

You Must Finish,

You’re Meant For This.”

“I Don’t Know If I Am:

My Shoulders Can’t Take Anymore Weight…”

 “You Silly Fool,”

Vivian Snarking From Between Strings Of Muck,

(Spiderwebbing My Appearance:)

“Remove The Toxic Parasite Upon Your Luck!”

 Sure Enough, 

I Straighten My Spine,

Stand Within The Blood,

(Two Vertebrae A Time…)

His Smile Grin Beyond This Blackened Muck…

The Corner,

Disguised In Luck…

His Sweet Face Shift,

Those Green Bifocals Lift…

 “You Have No Power Over Me!

Return To Where You Came, Be!”

 Within Astonishing Grace,

I Remove His Toxic Control,

Willing Him The Size Of A Rabbit Face.

I Gently Place Him Back Within The Muck…

 “You Cannot Control Me,”

I Kiss His Forehead In Empathetic Laze,

“I Cannot Continue As Your Puppet,

Tethered To Abusive Greedy Strings, Ablaze.”

 This Little Toy Man,

In This Little Toy Boat…

Evaporated, 

Taken Amongst The Creatures, 

(Within The Quicksand: Despair.)

 Dripping In Toxic Goo,

I Straighten My Spine,

Now Three Vertebrae A Time…

 “Ahh, Now You Understand…

The Brave Of Heart,

The Relentless Conquer This Land…

Here, 

Wipe Yourself Off,

Inhale This Toke,

Find Relaxing Enjoyment Within Your Cough.”

Vivian Lent Me A Silk Handkerchief, 

(From Within Her Brassiere.)

 “Now Listen Here,

I’ve Willed Paths Within This Forest:

Three Guarded By Rabbit,

One Left Free And Clear.

Just Follow Your Heart,

You’re Intelligent Around Here:

Wait For Your Moment…

It’s Coming Near.”

 She Evaporated Within This Forest Mist,

A Fine, 

Black, 

Shear, 

Delicate,

Smoke Dissipated Before My Iris.

The Handkerchief Now Sizable, 

(Equal To That Of A Blanket Towel.)

 I Remove The Blood From Amongst My Skin,

Watching The Remanence Dance Amongst The Fabric:

Alive In Devaluation,

Desperation,

(Despair.)

 I Look Back Amongst The Muck,

One Final Time:

The Corner’s Greed-Colored Bifocals Sink,

Accompanied With A Porcelain Grin…

I Sat In Grief,

(Watching Them Slip Beyond The Blood, Water Thin…)

 “I’m Sorry,

I Am The Mother Reaper…

You Cannot Break Me:

I Must Live Beyond This Mud, 

Tasting Of Tin.” 

 Grief Stricken Relief.

[thecorteztwins]

Fabian Cortez: A Masterlist of Marvel’s Worst Man or Mutant

@sammysdewysensitiveeyes  Heya! Sorry this took a bit. I have a LOT of Fabian comics to go through. I want to rec the ones really worth reading in terms of content, whether quantity (a lot of him) or quality (he’s important, scummy, or funny in some way) I also wanted to describe what the actual content inside them is, so you can decide for yourself if it’s up your alley or not for what you’re looking for. So under the cut I’m going to list you every piece of Fabian Cortez content worth having! Complete with pictures! Try not to drool, ladies! 

I’ll start with his 616 issues. X-Men (second series) #1: Fabian arrives! First thing he does is use the fact that his sister was nigh-fatally shot defending him to MANIPULATE MAGNETO WITH HER APPARENT DEATH while conveniently not mentioning he can heal her and she’ll be fine. Also introduces the term “flatscan” hooray! X-Men (second series) #2: Magneto shows up to save the Acolytes from the bullshit they got themselves into. Scolds Fabian on the way home after. Quality bits include that when Magneto arrives to collect his stupid followers, Fabian grins RIGHT AT THE GODDAMN CAMERA like he fucking KNOWS. Also, THIS HAPPENS

FUCKING FABIAN I SWEAR TO GOD HE’S SO GROSS also this is when she calls him Magneto’s “pet boy” which I am never ever letting go of X-Men (second series) #3: Fabian betrays Magneto and the other Acolytes, leaving them to die! So what’s the humorous content? Well, they’re spying on a napping Xavier, and Fabian is all “What are you doing, old man?” pondering-like, and Magneto goes “Sleeping?” and idk I find that fucking hilarious. Magneto and Fabian hold hands while Fabian tells him “Let me take you to your quarters” RAWR

X-Factor #92: Fabian’s first interaction with Pietro! He’s pulled together this massive fucking Acolytes attack on a government facility, exposed their secret Sentinel project to X-Factor, put an alien parasite in Val Cooper (which she vomits up in this issue) to control her...ALL TO TALK TO PIETRO!!! Yeah. Also he makes a girl kneel between her knees and creepy-touches her hair, then PULLS it while snarling about how Pietro will be his. So. Yeah. The Uncanny X-Men #300: This happens

Moira also whispers to Neophyte (a teenage boy Acolyte) about how she’s seen how he looks at Fabian when no one is watching. She actually is referring to how she can tell Neo knows Fabian is lying about everything, but still. Neo also quotes some shit about how “Lord Cortez was with our savior a the moment of his death. Magnus has entrusted him” that you just fucking KNOW Fabian is the one who said this you KNOW he’s been preaching this shit to his new Acolytes. Meanwhile, the Gamesmaster TROLLS THE HELL OUT OF FABIAN by letting him talk about how “lol yeah I totes killed Magneto” when Gamesmaster knew that Neo was listening. When Fabian calls Gamesmaster out on this “You set me up!”), Gamesmaster is like “lol yup trololol” and his reason is honestly just that it was funny (”Anything to keep the game interesting”) Fabian tries to run away during a fight because of course he does. THEN WE GET THE FAMOUS NAKED TANTRUM!!!

BECAUSE THIS WAS NECESSARY Fun fact, the naked tantrum epilogue is done by a different artist than the rest of the issue. The person who did most of the issue draws the men with heavy black body hair. The person who did the naked epilogue does not. So Fabian goes from having very hairy arms to totally smooth, suggesting he just got a full-body wax during the time between the tantrum and the main story. So there’s that. Also he breaks a window during said tantrum because THAT’S such a smart idea; nothing like glass shards in your urethra! Also jumps on a man (still naked) while he screams about being royalty. God, I love him. The Uncanny X-Men #304: Opens with the Acolytes dogpiling on Fabian because Exodus has revealed he’s full of shit and the one who killed Magneto. He is STILL trying to give them orders---specifically, the female ones! Oh, Fabian! Exodus, rather than killing him, teleports him away, claiming that Magneto doesn’t want him executed but to suffer slowly “a victim of someone else’s legacy” This was probably meant to foreshadow that Fabian had the Legacy virus, since that plot was just starting at this time, but that never happened so it just comes off like Magneto, being an egomaniac himself, knew that just fading into obscurity would be the perfect punishment for someone like Fabs. Avengers #368 (Bloodties Part I of V): Starts with Fabian holding little Luna above the flames of Genosha and monologuing to her. SHE’S A BABY, FABIAN. SHE CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU. WHY DO YOU LOVE YOUR OWN VOICE SO MUCH. It is kinda cute (if you ignore the whole “city on fire” thing) that she’s wrapped up in his cloak and appears to be smiling and snuggling him while he rambles. Maybe she thinks he’s telling her a story, idk. All I know is Luna is the only person in this whole damn series who has ever liked Fabian at all and that’s because she’s a literal toddler (infant?) who doesn’t know what’s going on. Issue also ends with Fabian and Luna. He and his forces have murdered the entire government of Genosha and now he’s proclaimed himself the new Chief in State of the nation. He addresses the people from a broadcast inside the state citadel, with a worried-looking Luna on his knee, surrounded by the corpses of the former government. I personally don’t think he looks good on TV. Not good for humorous content, but is worth it if you also want to see him actually seeming scary; it’s gonna be the last time he does it. X-Men (second series) #26: Fabian holds a very confused baby Luna as he gives a big dumb ranty speech to the Genoshans. Also shows up to flash thigh at Pietro like this:

Avengers #369 (Bloodties Part V of V): Exodus takes baby Luna from Fabian and kills him effortlessly. Nothing funny here, but if you enjoy the idea of him dying in a sewer, it may be for you! The Uncanny X-Men #307 (Bloodties Part IV of V): Pietro, Jean, Crystal, and Wanda search the Genoshan sewers for Fabian and Luna. There’s a lot of very unintentional humor here. Pietro mistakes HIS OWN WIFE for Fabian in the dark after HEARING HER VOICE, Fabian compliments Pietro on HOW WELL HE SCREAMS FABIAN’S NAME, Fabian teling Wanda and Pietro not to fight over him, Fabian ranting about how his life is in danger AS IF HE EXPECTS ANY OF THEM TO CARE LOL. Also at this point Fabs is having a nervous breakdown in sheer pants-pissing fear of Exodus, so he is REALLY rough-looking. Very unkempt, very unclean, raggedy cape, and the only time we see his hair out of the ponytail. Don’t know if you’re into the whole “grungy crazy-eyes” look but if you are, this is the issue for you! The 1996-1997 Magneto miniseries is full of hilarious Fabian goodness! It also does not actually have Magneto in it. It has Joseph, Magneto’s younger clone, believed by everyone at the time to be a de-aged Magneto with amnesia. It’s four issues and THE ART IS HORRIBLE and they forget Fabian’s ponytail through the whole thing except one issue...but the Fabian fuckery is AMAZING! It’s where he lies to a bird, it’s where he returns from the death no explanation and comes in LEVITATING AND SPARKLING with also no explanation how he’s doing that, where he tells a woman that snow reminds him of himself because he’s SO PURE and then tries to put her in his would-be harem two issues later and SHE BEATS HIM UNCONSCIOUS AND NO ONE QUESTIONS HER WHEN THEY WALK IN ON IT, where they lock him up and he escapes by somehow making A BIG FUCKING HOLE IN THE WALL WHAT THE FUCK and Joseph is just like “eh he’ll die out there” and apparently that’s just fine with everyone (LOOOL), where three Acolytes fight over who gets to kill him....honestly it just goes on and on, it’s great. A+ Fabian material, you must read! Fabian also tries to tutor Joseph on how to be Magneto and all I can think of is the bit in “Anastasia” where Vlad and Dmitri teach Anya about being a princess. Also he tricks “Magneto” into kissing a woman and it makes Exodus cry. So there’s that too. Quicksilver #1: IN JUST  ONE SINGLE ISSUE Fabian manages to get a MASSIVE AQUARIUM comically dumped on him because he didn't listen to a woman, literally RAINS on poor Bova and Luna who have NO IDEA why a random wet fuckboy is falling on them from the ceiling screaming, SHOOTS A HORSE FURRY ON ACCIDENT, and then gets scolded like the idiot he is by Exodus. I’m just...in awe. Quicksilver #4-6: MAXIMUS AND FABIAN TEAM UP!! Heroes for Hire & Quicksilver Annual 1998: Pietro is finally ready to lead the Acolytes like Fabian was always pressuring him to!...and Fabian goes “lol nope” when Pietro is like hey go fight this dangerous battle. FABIAN. Exodus and Pietro both think he’s a coward lol. Fabs just takes anyone with him who will go and tries to split XD Magneto Rex #1: Magneto tracks down Fabian to make him serve him again. Involves Fabian saying “I guess I don’t have any choice” while kneeling in front of Magneto and a closeup of Magneto’s hand on his head. So yes. And Magneto even brought along a NEW ponytail douche with him, Pipeline, just to show Fabian he’s not special. X-men (second series) #96: A shirtless Magneto sits up in bed after having a dream about Xavier and yells “Fabian Cortez! Attend me!” Fabian comes running into his room. Also Magneto punches him in the face. Uncanny X-Men #379: At this point everyone knows Fabian is a big fat traitor so he doesn’t even try to hide it, he just openly talks treason to the other Acolytes. Magneto catches him and tosses him into a pillar, he ain’t even surprised. Magneto Dark Seduction #1: Pietro walks in on Fabian sitting in Magneto’s chair when no one is around and yells at him. Magneto Dark Seduction #2: He’s in it but not worth noting. If you want to read the Dark Seduction series as a whole though, you probably should read this just for context’s sake. He does send a goddamn email as “Trojan Horse” though. Seriously. Trojan Horse. FABIAN ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Magneto Dark Seduction #3: Just a couple panels, but Fabian getting a fuck ton of guns pointed at him while he plays innocent!

Magneto: Dark Seduction #4: Fabian stares at a woman’s ass while negotiating with her for his release. He never notices the floating head of Sinister behind him because of said staring. He complains about the means of escape she gives him not being good enough, and then is killed by Magneto. So the last two things he does in his life is stare at a woman’s butt and be an entitled brat. HE DIED AS HE LIVED! X-Men ‘92 is indeed great! The thing to remember is, there are TWO X-Men ‘92 series. The first series is part of the 2015 Secret Wars and is four issues. The next series, which spanned 10 issues from 2016 to 2017, is not. The one with Fabian content is the second one. However, he is NOT in every issue, and not every issue he’s in will have Quality Fabness. X-Men ‘92 #2: His first appearance in these pages, in which he immediately shows us YUP, IT’S HIM by proclaiming himself THE SUPREME MUTANT:

X-Men ‘92 #6: Features Fabian undercover as a roadie in Lila Cheney’s band. This is where he fools all the X-Men here as security by him just wearing a goddamn baseball cap. Also features THIS FUCKING FACE:

X-Men ‘92 #7: The first page doesn’t have Fabian, but it does have someone talking about him! He’s one of The Toadies, the band that Lila was playing with, and a real-life grunge band that got to cameo in these issues! He refers to Fabian as “that weird roadie with the ponytail” which is priceless enough, but also says that the band “chased him to the parking lot but lost him” That’s right, Fabian was CHASED THROUGH A CONCERT PARKING LOT BY A GRUNGE BAND! And it was off-screen! This is both FANTASTIC because it happened and a HUGE LOSS that we didn’t get to see it. Later in the issue, Fabian himself does show up being HIMSELF and we get this:

Because we needed that angle of him, I guess. Thanks artists. And then we get him...being himself. X-Men ‘92 #9: It only has one Fabian panel but OH MY GOD WHAT A PANEL

X-Men ‘92 #10: Includes these wonderful moments/faces!

That time Fabian Cortez just kind of randomly photobomber the Summers-Grey-Xavier family photo Seriously, Charles is basically Scott’s father, and to a degree Jean’s as well, Cassandra Nova is his twin sister, and Cable is the son of Scott and Jean’s clone and then there’s Fabian who has no connection to any of these people who isn’t even on the same SIDE yet has just RUN IN THERE AND INTO THE FUCKING CENTER NO LESS FABIAN

Now let’s go one more, X-Men Forever! I don’t consider it great Fabian content, there’s really no comedy beyond how much Claremont clearly hates this guy, but given his presence in it, I’ll list his appearances and let you decide if it’s something you’d want to have a look at. Like X-Men ‘92, X-Men Forever takes place in an alternate timeline. It branches off right after X-Men #3, when Fabian murdered Magneto. Also like X-Men ‘92, it’s the second series to be called this. The first one is by Fabian Niceiza and there is no Cortez content. The one you want is the X-men Forever written by Chris Claremont and his beautiful, beautiful hate-on for Fabian. X-Men Forever #1: Fabian fights the X-Men. Not anything really noteworthy as funny or scummy or specifically “Fabian” here. Some of them debate killing him once they knock him out, as the X-Men all kinda become especially “fuck this guy” in X-Men Forever towards Fabian even though he’s done MUCH less shit in this universe. Why? Claremont hates him, that’s why. But yeah probably not worth it if you’re looking for a “Fabian being Fabian” fix.  Is worth it is you always wanted his flat ass in khakis though!

Also the Phoenix knocks him on his ass when he manhandles Jean

And he does what he does best!

X-Men Forever #5: A shackled Fabian is dumped into the middle of nowhere into the hands of a mysterious group. Just one page, nothing funny or shitty here, not worth it for what you’re looking for I don’t think. X- Men Forever #19:  We get to see what happened to Fabian! He’s in the clutches of the Consortium, an anti-mutant organization, and he’s a tortured emaciated wreck. I don’t even like seeing him like this, man. I love him getting what he deserves but oh man this is rough. There is one kinda funny bit where, when they discover him, he asks if they came to mock him. I think this is funny just because it speaks to his egocentric mindset even in this state; yes, Fabian, they busted into a super dangerous top-secret facility just to make fun of YOU! X-Men Forever #20: . He can’t even stand up, he has to be carried out of there. He gets shot during his own rescue, but lives (for a bit) through it, long enough to give the X-Men some info about who’s behind this operation. This is not funny Fabian content at all, so you might not want it. X-Men Forever #21: Fabian passed away during the night after his rescue. Claremont is sure to state in the yellow boxes that “Nobody misses him. Nobody mourns.” We do get to see his dead body and Jean does a sort of psychic autopsy in which she extracts further info from his deceased brain. Again, this isn’t funny Fabian content, it’s not even really Fabian content at all, would not recommend. We come back to the fun with “X-Men: The Animated Series” from the 1990s! Fabian appears in “Sanctuary: Part !”, “Sanctuary:Part II”, and “The Fifth Horseman.” All of them are pretty great! And gave us MY FAVORITE SCREENSHOTS OF ALL FLIPPIN’ TIME! xD THE HOLOGRAM HAREM!

[putthison]

Put This On’s 2017 Holiday Gift Guide

Tis the season for fretting over what to get the people. To help with the endeavor, every year, we write about our most recent favorites. So, coming just in time for the holiday season, here’s our 2017 gift guide -- things that would be awesome for anyone in your life. 

Before we get started though, we’d love it if you’d check out stuff from our beloved sponsors. The Hanger Project has some wonderful shoe care products; Proper Cloth sell cozy knitwear (probably hard to gift their MTM shirts without your friend knowing); and Chipp’s grenadines are among the most useful ties anyone can own. Dapper Classic’s socks make for nice stocking stuffers; Huckberry has things for the outdoorsman; and Twillory has both whimsical and basic button-ups. 

Additionally, we have some wonderful gift suggestions in our shop, organized by various price tiers. Throw this corner kick charm on a chain and you have a necklace, or give that clotheshorse in your life this Duke of Windsor themed shoehorn. Our Gentlemen’s Association subscriptions could also be that year-round gift that keeps on giving -- a handrolled and handsewn pocket square, made from fabrics picked out by Jesse, delivered to your friend’s doorstep every month. 

OK, to the gifts!

Muth's Mudjeskas

I grew up in San Francisco, eating special occasion candy from See's and Joseph Schmidt's Chocolates. A few years ago, a gift guide from Sweethome turned me on to Muth's Mudjeskas, sold through Muth's Candies in Louisville, Kentucky. They're caramel-covered marshmallows, but that hardly begins to describe them. They ship well, everyone loves them, and if I am frank, they trounce their California competitor, Scotch Kisses from See's, in every category. This year I may try the chocolate-covered ones. -Jesse

Brass Kaweco Sport Fountain Pen

I’ll admit, I am not a pen guy. My handwriting is almost illegible, and so I've always preferred a keyboard to the manual writing experience. But a few months ago in London, I stumbled upon the Kaweco Sport, an inexpensive German fountain pen. The base models are plastic, but the one I bought is made from brass. It's a compact pen, but the hefty metal and large cap make it feel substantial. It's comfortably less than a hundred bucks, writes beautifully, and is handsome as hell. A real "pen guy" probably has ultra-particular tastes you'll never be able to accommodate, but the Kaweco is a great option for someone who’ll enjoy an upgrade from the world of rollerballs. -Jesse

Glerups Wool Slipper Boots

My wife walked around the house barefoot for decades, unbothered by cold or dirt. My toesies are always frozies, so I never took off my shoes. (I know, I know, but I have wood floors and live in California, where the elements don't follow you indoors). Then my wife’s feet started to hurt and her doctor laid it out for her: you need to wear some support anytime you're walking on hard surfaces. The answer was boiled-wool slippers like these, from Glerups. They keep your feet cozy without overheating, and they have a bizarrely compelling style. Glerups are the option recommended by the product review site The Sweethome, and I trust their judgement. -Jesse

[Pete’s note: I also dig these Tyrolean wool slippers, which have thin leather soles. They're like sweaters for your feet.]

John Hodgman's Vacationland

Hodgman took a hard turn in his new book, Vacationland. His first three books were compendia of imagined facts. They were deeply personal, but they weren't real. Vacationland is a genuine memoir, a story that follows Hodgman through three parts of life: growing up as a prematurely middle-aged child in a ramshackle house in Brookline, Mass; inheriting his family's summer home in Western Mass; and buying a home in his wife's family seat of Maine. It's very funny, but it's also beautifully written, and ultimately becomes a consideration of the pleasures and responsibilities of adulthood. A perfect gift for the dad who has everything. -Jesse

Manufactum Map Case

The map case has always struck me as the perfect man's purse. Unlike a big shoulder bag, it's modest in size, but it still has enough distinctiveness from a lady's bag and enough military heritage to feel like a man could wear it. In other words: it's useful enough for a woman, but PH-balanced for a man. The problem with map cases is that the real deal -- often made for European armies in the 1950s and ‘60s -- are made of vinyl and ultra-low-quality leather. Their form is appealing, but the reality is not. The other day, I got a doorstop of a catalog from the German retailer Manufactum, and I was thrilled to find that they have remade the German map case with real grown-up leather. -Jesse

Felt Hats by Barbara Keal

Years ago, when we were shooting Put This On in London, I met Guy Hills, the proprietor of Dashing Tweeds. Guy is a crackling ball of joyful, boyish energy. He rode around on one of those giant-wheel bicycles, showed us the riverboat behind his house, and told about his tweeds. He also showed us a hat his family had bought him for Christmas. It was a breathtaking concoction from felted wool, a ragged animal crown that reminded me of Where the Wild Things Are. "My friend Barbara made it for me, don't you love it?" And frankly, I did. I'm no furry, no costume-wearer, but it was genuine art. It was breathtaking. So I asked for one for Christmas from my family. It's one of my most treasured possessions. She takes commissions, although they can take a while to make. -Jesse

Ray Barretto’s Acid

Ray Barretto was one of the great bandleaders of Latin music. He was an accomplished jazz player, accompanying acts such as Art Blakey and Lou Donaldson as a conguero. When boogaloo hit in the early ‘60s, he had one of its signature hits, “El Watusi.” By 1968, Barreto was making salsa with the legendary Fania Records. He was music director of the Fania All-Stars, perhaps the greatest salsa band of all time, and making records under his own name. Acid is more than just a bit of trendy psychedelia. It's a genuinely thrilling record, with salsa, boogaloo, Latin rock, and jazz all in a blender. You don't need to know those genres to appreciate them either because, ultimately, it's dance music. It jams. If this one doesn’t thrill you, you're dead inside. -Jesse

Aurora Shoe Company

I was flipping through a Japanese fashion magazine the other day, and was stopped short by these handmade shoes from Aurora Shoe Company. They were in a section featuring the editors' personal favorites and I could see why. They're profoundly dowdy, but immensely charming. The Middle English has full size runs for me (including narrow) and is pretty great, but the one I saw was the West Indian. Sadly, they only carry that one in sizes up to 11 womens, which is a 9 mens. Great if you're a Japanese fashion editor, but less great if you're a giant American oaf. -Jesse

Children’s Books, Who Needs Donuts and Radiant Child

Is there a picture-book-aged kid on your list? I've got three kids myself, and am a real snob. These are two books that meet my standards. Who Needs Donuts is a strange and hilarious story about a boy obsessed with collecting donuts. He learns the true meaning of love. It has the anarchic, deviant quality that animates Maurice Sendak and insane, riotous pictures that you can look at for hours. One of those stories that gets its hooks in deeply and you're not sure how. Radiant Child is a new picture biography of Jean-Michel Basquiat by Javaka Steptoe. Steptoe is a gifted artist himself, and his pictures were built from fragments of Basquiat's past, like literal window frames from the places he lived. He also isn't afraid of the deepest emotional resonances of Basquiat's life and work. The book is largely driven by Basquiat's relationship with his mentally ill mother, and the subject is presented beautifully  and movingly. Steptoe's own mother struggled with mental illness, and in reading, an adult can see the ways Basquiat's story is animated by Steptoe's. -Jesse

A Small Vintage Steiff Animal

The world is full of Steiff collectors, the world's greatest manufacturer of stuffed animals. There's a reason, too. Steiffs have immense charm, they're distinctive, and more than a little bit beautiful. They also make great gifts. The older, smaller ones are generally well under a hundred bucks on eBay or from a local antique shop, and you have your choice of a century of creatures. You can go with a classic bear, but I love the more unusual beasts, such as lobsters or ride-on turtles or this tremendous fox, which may be begging for a treat? -Jesse 

(Derek’s note: for the menswear enthusiasts among you, A Kind of Guise routinely makes parkas with Steiff’s signature wools). 

A Plant (and an Accompanying Planter)

I like giving art or decorative objects as gifts (although they can be risky if you don’t know someone’s taste pretty well). Another good gift in this category is a simple houseplant­­—an easy and almost universal present. Houseplants have been undergoing a bit of a renaissance recently, so the availability and variety are broader than they were a few years ago. The snake plant is easy to care for and doesn’t need much light or attention. One of my favorites (still reasonably small—fit for a desk or countertop) is a staghorn fern. Air plants and small succulents can also fit almost anywhere and will require minimal care. If you know someone likes plants and has some space, step up to the monstera, whose distinctly shaped leaves you’ll recognize from Aloha shirts. You can find decent selections online from stores like The Sill, which also offers a 30-day guarantee, your local garden store, or even Ikea. -Pete

Lizzy Goodman’s Meet Me in the Bathroom

If the Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and LCD Soundsystem were in regular rotation on your first generation iPod, you'll appreciate Goodman's oral history of the New York scene in the ‘00s. Goodman interviewed dozens (hundreds?) of musicians, managers, DJs, and journalists and chronicles how rock 'n' roll re-took over the world from limp late-era alternative rock and Limp Bizkit. The stories they tell are enjoyably revealing, overblown, and gossip-y. Sample quote from James Murphy: “This is me dancing. This isn’t the drugs dancing. This is the drugs stopping myself from stopping myself from dancing.” -Pete

A Watch Winder from WOLF

If your friend owns mechanical wristwatches, a watch winder could be the perfect gift. There’s a lot of debate on whether they’re necessary -- a winder may or may not extend the life of a watch -- but they do eliminate the need to wind automatics. That can be nice if your friend owns watches with certain complications (e.g. setting the date, which can be annoying if you haven’t worn a watch in a while). WOLF makes some wonderful winders. Handsomely designed and constructed from reliable parts, these are fully programmable so you can set the number and direction of rotations (a good way to customize the winder to best suit your watches). They’re also a beautiful way to display special timepieces -- something to decorate on your friend’s dresser or bookshelf. -Derek

A Handsome Mach 3 Handle

Gillette’s Mach 3 has spread into almost every medicine cabinet since it was first introduced in the late ‘90s. It’s the safety razor most men, including me, have stuck with since learning how to shave in high school. Stock Gillette handles, however, are pretty ugly -- cheap, plastic, and dinky looking, they’re an eyesore on countertops. You probably can’t get your friend to switch shaving habits, but you can give them a better Mach 3 handle. British brands such as Edwin Jagger sell some handsome ones, although I prefer the more distinctive hand-turned designs found on sites such as eBay and Etsy. They’re typically hand carved from a block of wood, then lacquered with an epoxy to give the surface a shine and water-resistant finish. I like them in buckeye burl woods. Mine, pictured above, was purchased at this shop. They no longer have the handles in burl wood, although you can find them elsewhere. -Derek

American Trench’s Speckled Wool Socks

Everyone hates cold feet, which is why warm socks make for an easy, even if pedestrian, gift (get it? Pede? Feet? Ok). I like these Donegal-style wool socks at American Trench. They’re cozy, designed to be worn with boots, and made at a Pennsylvanian factory from hardy Italian yarns. The flecks of color give some nice visual interest without being overdone. Kinda pricey at $30, but a two pack runs for $45 and you can keep a pair for yourself. Hard to go wrong with any of the colors, although I dig the yellow ones most. -Derek

A Fancy Ass Cheese Knife

Everyone has that one friend that loves to host parties. And thank God, because without them we’d never leave our homes. To show your appreciation for their efforts, give them a fancy cheese knife. It’ll allow them to serve up some delicious appetizers, add something to their party decor, and give you an excuse to duck out of awkward conversations at said gatherings (“Is that, is that cheese? Excuse me”). Chelsea Miller sells some lovely looking knives. She makes them completely herself, from start to finish, at her workshop in Brooklyn. The metals are sourced from recycled farrier rasps; the wood harvested from her family farm in Vermont. They have a wonderfully elegant and rustic style about them, and would be something your friend and others can use for years. -Derek

Billingham Camera Bag

It never fails to impress me how many people are interested in photography nowadays. Unfortunately, most camera bags aren’t terribly great looking -- black ballistic nylon designs with cheap plastic details, they look like the sort of things carried around convention halls. If you have a friend who’s a budding photographer, give him or her a Billingham instead. They’re made in England and look like repurposed traditional fishing bags (Billingham actually started as a fishing bag manufacturer). The interior is padded to protect camera equipment, but the exterior is made from a handsome mix of cotton canvas and leather. You can find Billingham bags new at their webshop or second-hand on sites such as eBay and Etsy. They also used to make camera bags for Banana Republic -- pre-Gap, back when the brand was still a solid safari-themed outfitter. Extra points if you can find one with that heritage. -Derek

[mirceakitsune]

VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT REGARDING MY ART, PLEASE READ!

Alright... this is a journal I'll be writing with a very heavy heart. It's a decision which I know will disappoint a lot of people, as it goes against the things I've promised to do toward the community, not to mention those who are watching and have been supporting me thus far. However I believe it is the only right approach at this stage, and will not be changing my mind about it. Below is an in-depth explanation of my decision... please read the entire post before judging and jumping to conclusions. Thank you.

I have decided that I will no longer be publishing my art or animations under a free license. In fact, I'm looking into how I may retract this license from my existing works altogether, and switch to the classic copyright system used by other artists. My game projects (such as Vore Tournament) will also become proprietary and close-sourced soon, while I'll be looking into integrating DRM for further protection against piracy.

This decision comes after an incident on another art site which I will not name here, involving a person I'd rather keep anonymous for now. About two weeks ago, this person decided to re-upload all of my works to their own gallery on another website... some of them modified in ways I do not approve of (eg: vore bellies removed) and with my signature stripped and therefore no credit given. I've went through various procedures trying to resolve the problem peacefully, which I will dive into in more detail below... for what it's worth, none of them had any success. After this experience, I realize why copyright is important for artists, and what a mistake I've made by allowing others to use my artwork freely... one I will not repeat again. These are the steps I went through since the whole thing began, in an attempt to resolve the issue as sanely as possible:

1 - Like every artist who deals with this sort of thing, I first contacted the person responsible for editing and leaking my art. I asked them to take it down, but as expected they refused. I then threatened them with legal action, and surprisingly they refused again. Because I was out of options and already frustrated at this point, I lastly resorted to threatening that I would find out where they live come after them... however the thief had the nerve to fear for their safety and blocked me! Wow.

2 - I next contacted the website on which my works were posted, and told them I have a case of copyright infringement to report. Someone took a look at the incident, but said that because my stuff was released under a CC license there is nothing they can do. I explained that I no longer felt like my art being openly licensed, and free licenses have a clause allowing them to be revoked based on the personal mood and regrets of an author... however they outright said I was wrong, the nerve to say such a thing to me! I proceeded to throw a stream of insults and threats at the admins... yet to my shock, I was ignored and this did not make the problem go away!

3 - With the first two options exhausted, I went ahead and did the third thing an artist does in this situation: I contacted authorities. The local police and interpol wouldn't do much, stating that only pedophile art is special enough to offend them into being motivated to do their job on the internet... so I ultimately made the big step of calling the CIA. I pointed them to the website, then showed them every piece of vore porn I've created over the years, alongside my identity documents and address so they'd know how to find me. The agents sounded very confused and uncomfortable from what I could tell, except for that one agency where I think I could hear fapping noises coming from one corner... anyway they said that in the name of copyright enforcement, they'd send a man in the field to question the locals and investigate the crime, using American taxpayers money to fund the operation. I felt like I achieved something big in my life at that moment, and that democracy has truly done it... kinda like the power an oil corporation feels when they first strip people of their land and send the police to beat them up for objecting. However a week has passed ever since, and government agents have still not captured the enemy art thief! How is this possible, what world are we living in?!

4 - Realizing that the law will not help me and I must take matters into my own left hand, I decided to take the next step: Hiring an assassin to kill this homeboy! So I installed TOR browser and went on the deep web. After a few hours of browsing through drug stores for no suspicious reason, I found a forum where assassin types hang out. I met some wonderful people on there... including poor serial killers who had a very hard life, and philanthropists who wanted to murder others solely to cheer up our dark lord Satan. Yet I was unable to find anyone that could help me in my epic quest: Most hitmen already had a very busy schedule, and said they're on assassination tours across the world for the next couple of months... I couldn't wait that long, I want my satisfaction and I want it now! The funny thing was, most killers were hired for the exact same reason as my own, which is to go after art thieves who stole furry art and posted it on the internet... yet they were all apparently working for one person, supposedly someone who goes by the initials "FAF".

5 - Being out of options, I'm now resorting to the last solution available: Doing it myself. Yesterday I sold my lifelong belonging, my mother's house which left her homeless, as well as my cat to a Chinese butcher... in order to get the money needed to fly to every country where I suspect the art thief might be hiding. Once there, I plan to knock at random doors of random houses in random cities... statistically speaking I'm bound to find the perpetrator this way, as well as recognize them even if I've never seen their face! I've also contacted important weapon dealers, and paid them a handsome sum of money for big guns that I can totally take on a plane without raising suspicion. I managed to get my hands on some pretty rare equipment in the process... including a new generation of bombs developed by terrorists which use Allah's shaved pubic hair for gunpowder, and a new generation of rocket launchers called the U.N.C.L.E. Exploder V69 developed by Kim Jong Un in person! At last... I can show the world just how serious copyright infringement is, and give these heretics the punishment they deserve for copying a drawing on the internet. Brace yourselves evildoers, for the modern world has come... and it's come up the walls.

Oh, yeah... and happy April Fools everyone! Remind me to come up with better and less scary fanfiction for this sort of thing next year.

[redsoapbox]

IN CONVERSATION WITH SANDRA’S WEDDING

Jonny, Joe, Luke and Tom

At the beginning of February, I embarked on an ambitious new music guide for this blog entitled 28 Bands in 28 Days. The idea was to scour the world (well, as best as you can from the couch potato position!) for new and exciting music. With two days of the project to run, all was going well - I had reviewed and recommended bands / singers from Canada, America, France, Sweden as well as the U.K. Having set aside the last two days of the month for New Zealand’s Marlon Williams and Finland’s Those Forgotten Tapes, I was feeling quite pleased with myself when my best laid plans were thrown into turmoil - I had chanced upon the stellar music of Sandra’s Wedding! I knew had to include them in the project, yet I wasn’t prepared to elbow out Marlon or TFT at the last minute. The solution that I came up with was simply to pretend that 2018 was a leap year (believe me, I’ve kidded myself about a lot worse that that down the years) and that there was, therefore, a 29th day and a 29th band. Sandra’s Wedding were in!

If you still haven’t heard the band’s remarkable debut album Northern Powerhouse and the brand new E.P. Good Morning, Bad Blood, then you’re in for one hell of a treat. Described, accurately, as a meeting of The Smiths and The Beautiful South (I know, I know, it can’t possibly be true, but it is, folks, it is!) and here is the evidence -

“Death by Hanging” - Sandra’s Wedding

It was a tremendous thrill, then, to interview the band. My thanks for their cooperation.

Northern Powerhouse, your stand-out debut album, arrived like a bolt out of the blue in February of 2017. How long, though, has the band been together?

Luke: Since sometime in the early months of 2016. Joe and myself had done a couple of little gigs together previously, as had he and Jonny, but the band became official around then. 

Joe: I’d stopped playing guitar for a while before then whilst I was living in Leeds. I’d gotten really into poetry and wanted to be the next Simon Armitage or Thom Gunn for a while. I wrote a lot and posted little bits and pieces online but was always frustrated with how ‘slow’ the poetry process is in the sense that you’d get people saying, “I enjoyed your poem” but you hadn’t been able to see their reaction as they read it, or you felt like they could just be fobbing you off a bit. That period was good because I really got into crafting lyrics and working on atmosphere through language – more so than if I’d just been writing songs as a whole. I did stand-up as well and went to Edinburgh Fringe… I had enough and left early, decided music was what I was probably best at and bought a new acoustic. That’s when I started putting the songs that would become the album together. I started writing like crazy and felt like a light had been switched on after having spent so long in a different headspace. If I weren’t shit at poetry or stand-up there wouldn’t be a band is the crux of this answer. 

There is a real sense of time and place running through each of the songs that make up Northern Powerhouse. Where did you all grow up and which local musicians would you count amongst your earliest and most important influences?

Luke: We all grew up within a thirty-mile radius of each other in and around Goole, except Jonny who is from Castleford.

Joe: A lot of people have influenced me, but not necessarily ‘music’ people. I’m not someone who idolises artists, I feel like it’s more a grudging respect in a way. I listen to albums, songs, certain lyrics and get a bit mad wishing I’d written that. That’s not to say I don’t find inspiration from others, I do just like anyone else. Growing up, my parents always had Magic-FM or Neil Diamond cassettes on in the car so I suppose I was exposed to a lot of easy listening. I wish I had a cool answer; that my parents were into 20s Jazz records and Finnish folk music but my mum loves Elvis and my dad doesn’t own a single CD.  

I once asked Peter Hook what he thought his music would have sounded like if he'd grown up in Skegness or Shrewsbury, rather than Salford, to which he succinctly replied 'shit'! Are northern bands any different to southern bands?

Luke: Of course, but only in the same way that American bands are different from German bands for example. You can’t help but be shaped by your upbringings, and that comes out in the music that we (as in northerners) make. 

Joe: I’m always wary of tribalism. I don’t ever want to swing my dick around and make out I’m better than someone else just because they were born in a different postcode. It’s going to colour your outlook and how you express yourself, obviously, but that’s just human nature. I’m proud of being from a small place hardly anyone has heard of, I sometimes look at it as being a non-league club trying to gain a few promotions and have a taste of some success; a good cup run. 

Northern Powerhouse is a snapshot of life in post-Brexit Britain. To what extent, if any, does the social commentary, expressed through songs such as "Death by Hanging" and "The Spark", reflect your own views, or is the record a character study of the great British public?  

Joe: Everyone’s terrified. People are terrified of change, people are terrified of everything staying the same. I think most of the fuel for the songs comes from how everything gets served up to us. The press in this country are honestly pathetic. Not in a Trumpian “Fake-News” sense, but in a “Let’s tap into people’s anxiety about this topic” sense. The whole Brexit Referendum debate was embarrassing. Grown adults standing on national television arguing about the colour of passports and what Winston Churchill would say if he were still around. Remember when the Panama Papers came out and everyone just did an Alan Partridge shrug and carried on arguing about how we can dig our own vegetables after Brexit? You couldn’t make it up. Billions of pounds being withheld from public services and we’re all arguing about the most inane stuff. The songs are vignettes where all these feelings are present, I can understand why people feel the way they do for the most part. I suppose when I look back on that album I’ll remember that year where everyone went fucking apeshit.

Even though you're tackling some heavy themes on the album, from unemployment to spousal abuse to capital punishment, there is a humorous touch in evidence right throughout the record. You're following in the footsteps of Ray Davies, Chris Difford, Paul Heaton and just about every other leading British songwriter in that respect. What is it that makes you all take such a tragicomic approach to your craft?

Luke: If you didn’t laugh you’d cry! I think there’s a long tradition of finding humour in tragedy in this country, and it brings us all together in trying times. Jonny: Absolutely. I think finding beauty in the dark moments of life is a real art form - I like to think of Joe’s lyrics being in the same vein as Edward Hopper’s paintings – just capturing those little moments of sadness in life and creating a little vignette around it. Imagine the painting Nighthawks but set in a Working Men’s Club in a small mining town and you’re on the right lines. 

Joe: Nobody cares about happiness. Imagine having a happy friend. Hell. 

How do you approach the discipline of lyric writing? Do you spend a  lot of time in cafes and pubs observing people, notebook at the ready?  

Joe: I have done that in the past. I like to remember little scenes and turns of phrase. I think Alan Bennett is a bit of an influence in that respect. Bennett can take the most mundane exchange and turn it into something beautiful. I take a lot of artistic license, create little worlds and characters. The Day Before You Came by Abba is a song I think about a lot – it’s so dull it’s genius. 

There's a definite air of nostalgia that hangs over the album, with Old Spice aftershave, The Yorkshire Ripper, Bernard Manning, Northern Soul and the Chelsea v Leeds 70's football rivalry all namechecked. It permeates the new EP, too, with "Saturday Night Television" guaranteed to remind us of a bygone era. Lou Reed said that "I don't like nostalgia, unless it's mine", but I get the sense that you're more interested in a form of communal nostalgia? Luke: I think the fact that we’re all just about the same age means we find it remarkably easy to fire off each other’s nostalgia glands. One mention of a shiny Charizard or finding a Tazo in your crisps sends all of us into a nice, warm, fuzzy place, and the fact that a lot of our fans and listeners are in the same sort of age bracket means that they all wear the same rose tinted, 90s flavoured goggles. I think Joe writes from an age older than his years though from time-to-time, and has a natural ability to relate to people of just about any generation.  

Joe: That comes from being taken to the pub a lot as a kid. My dad played pub football and the pub was where people held events so pub-coke was something I spent a lot of time nursing. I often wonder about what pubs will look like in 20/30 years  - young people don’t seem to go out anymore. I digress slightly but read “Church Going” by Philip Larkin and imagine it being about pubs instead. Depressing. 

Which songwriters have had the biggest impact on your own work?

Joe: As I said earlier, I don’t have any HUGE idols. But in terms of wishing I could have produced anything as good as they have; Adam & The Ants, Beautiful South, Chumbawamba, Deacon Blue, Eels, Five, Gerry & The Pacemakers, Housemartins, Iris Dement, John Prine, Kool & The Gang, Lisa Stansfield, Mike & The Mechanics, Nick Lowe, Orbison (Roy), Paul Young, Queen, Richard Hawley, Super Furry Animals, Talking Heads, Uzbekistan National Choir, Val Doonican, Wham, X?, Yann Tiersen, Zombies. 

Joe's lyrics rightly attract a lot of attention - they'd be on the National curriculum if it was up to me - but your tunes are incredibly infectious too. Do you all have a hand in writing the music?

Luke: It’s a very communal process.

Jonny: Yeah, Joe generally brings the song in as a chord structure and we work on and around it. I’m a strong believer in the idea that the song is all that matters, so if it needs a wall of guitars layering up to make it work then so be it, but I’m equally as happy playing something sparse or even nothing at all if the song needs space to breathe. We’re not averse to picking up other instruments like a mandolin or a keyboard if it fits the feel of what we’re looking for. Who inspired you to take up your particular instruments? Was it another musician, a parent, or a teacher, for instance?   Luke: My dad plays drums, and so they’ve just been a part of my life since birth. I’ll never forget playing my first ‘1-2-3-4’ in a back room in the now sadly closed Electro Music in Doncaster, getting the bug and never turning back. 

Jonny: I initially found it hard to connect to the guitar – or at least what I thought the guitar was - because I thought it had to be shredding and metal which was what everyone I knew was into playing – and that’s fine, but just not my cup of tea. For me to discover the playing of Johnny Marr, Peter Buck, Tom Verlaine, John Frusciante and Roger McGuinn was a game changer because suddenly I found people using a vocabulary on the instrument that I’d never heard before – a little like hearing French for the first time if you’d grown up only thinking the entire world spoke English I guess! 

Tom: When I was fifteen all my friends where picking up an instrument and forming bands and naturally I wanted to be part of that. My parents bought me my own bass and after spending a somewhat wasted year at Goole Sixth form in which I mostly skipped lessons to jam in my parents garage, but I eventually started studying music at a college in Hull.

Who is Sandra? Does she exist, or is she a composite character? 

Luke: Sandra is a wife, a mother, a daughter, a lover, a timid wallflower, a destroyer of worlds, a maneater, a vegan, a shoulder to cry on, a dinnerlady, a career-woman, a homemaker, a manager, a band-leader, a figurehead, a feather, a sledgehammer, a Friday night out, a Saturday night in, she’s whatever you want her to be, and she’s the best at it. 

Joe: She gets on my wick.

It was Jericho Keys, of BBC Introducing North Yorks, who first piqued my interest in the band with his tantalising description of the group as 'a cross between The Smiths and The Beautiful South'. However, I've subsequently seen that quote amended to The Coral and The Housemartins. Which is the correct quote and which bands would you happily compare yourselves to? 

Jonny: I think The Coral comparison was one he said when he played our first single, and then the other comparison was after we subsequently did a BBC Introducing session on his show. He’s a great guy and we’ve had fun on the show when we did a session with him. Luke: The Smiths and The Housemartins are the two that we tend to hear most often. Comparisons to The Housemartins aren’t too much of a surprise, being from the same (sort of) area their influence is bound to rub off, and I think it’s clear the influence Paul Heaton has had on Joe in particular. The Smiths isn’t a bad shout either, our Jonny is influenced in a big way by their Johnny and his mesmerising arpeggiated playing. 

I have to put my cards on the table and say that Northern Powerhouse is one of the best debut albums of the past decade. As you look back on the studio experience, are there things that you would have done differently, other songs that you might have included for example? Tom:  It was an unusual experience when it came to recording as at that time the four of us had never been in the same room before and had only ever rehearsed as a three piece band with Jonny writing the lead guitar parts to homemade demos and then dubbing them over in the studio. I don’t think any of us are really happy with the overall sound of Powerhouse but I think that’s because we’re by far our own worst critics. The positive response it has had since though has been beyond our expectations and helped us to be less self critical of it. Luke: I guess the first album is always a learning curve, so it’s hard to say if there’s anything we’d have done differently. I think the track list is solid, and although there are demos of other songs kicking around from the time I think the strongest ended up on there. 

It's an album choc full of brilliant pop songs, but the bittersweet ballad "Hollywood" has taken on the form of an all-time classic.  Do you know straight away when a song sounds like the real deal? 

Luke: Personally, no. I can’t speak for the others but, although I always enjoy it when a song comes together, there’s no way of knowing if it’s going to be ‘the real deal’ without putting it out there and seeing what other people think of it. Hollywood is a case in point. We all, obviously, love the song as any parent loves their own child, but the reaction it got since we released it has been phenomenal and has surprised all of us. You know you’ve done something right when strangers stop you in town to tell you they ‘love that one about Goole!’ 

Jonny: When Joe sent me the acoustic demo for that track I was a little blown away by it. I sat with a twelve string guitar trying to encapsulate exactly what the lyrics made me feel, which is why I tried to find some weird chords that are heartbreakingly sad and also weirdly optimistic. It does seem to have connected with people from the area – someone made a fan made video to it with a bunch of nostalgic images of Goole in it, and it ended up with something like 30,000 views in a week on social media which was weird. 

Does it give you pause for thought that even though a song of the stature of "Hollywood" or the album opener "This Heart" can mean an immense amount to a fan of the band, that around 99% of the British population are unlikely to ever hear the song? Is that discouraging for you as artists? 

Luke: Not at all. Like any band, the main reason you do it is for the sheer love of it. I’d rather put out a song that means the world to one person than pump out generic pop that means nothing, but just makes for pleasant background noise in offices, hairdressers and building sites. 

Tom: I’d agree with Luke, especially considering how people listen to and discover music now. There is an almost overwhelming amount of music that would be physically impossible to listen to in a human lifetime. We have a small but ever growing fan base that seem to love what we’re doing and as long as someone still enjoys it, well keep doing it. That said a few more monthly listeners on Spotify wouldn’t go a miss. 

In a different era, punk, post-punk, and Britpop, perhaps, you would have been able to reach a far larger audience. Do you feel like a band out of step with the times? 

Jonny: I don’t think many bands out there sound like us at this moment in time – for better or worse! I love lots of new music and there are great bands doing great things at the moment – but my initial influences were all older bands and I guess I gravitate to playing my instrument a certain way. We’re not trying to create a sound that is fashionable or trendy – you’ve only to look at our band photos to realise we are neither of those things – but we make music that is a genuine reflection of us and what we’re about. We’re fully aware that we’re not reinventing the wheel or coming up with a pioneering new sound, but hopefully people enjoy what we do. Luke: Although the music sometimes feels a bit of a throwback, I don’t think we feel out of step. It’s true that audiences are more disparate now, but that just means that people who seek you out are doing it because they REALLY want to listen to you. In times gone by we may have signed a little deal and got into some shops around the country, but now we’re available on the top of Mt. Everest via a device that everyone carries with them every day. The fact that we can be heard all over the world as a result of uploading some files from my front room is fascinating to me.

You have an excellent new EP, "Good Morning, Bad Blood", out now. There's some interesting additional instrumentation on tracks like "Titanic" and "Run, Rabbit Run", does that signpost something of a new direction for the band?

Luke: We’ve always wanted strings and brass, and if we could’ve afforded it I’m sure they’d have been there on Powerhouse too. It’s just nice to be in a place where we can bring in other excellent musicians to help us flesh out our sound.  

Jonny: Yeah, we’re really lucky to know some talented people – David and Anthony who played are great. Anthony’s CV is amazing, he played for the Pope and on the last Gorillaz album, so it was a thrill that he agreed to play for us. But we’re all big fans of The Beatles and the whole “using the studio as an instrument” thing they did. So that could be a trumpet or cello part, but sometimes it’s just those little subtle additions on records that you really connect with and we try to do that. There is a really small dulcimer part I stuck on ‘Good Morning, Bad Blood’ to add that sort of 90s version of the 60s psychedelia that seemed prevalent back then, and hopefully it just adds something to the track even though we’ll never do it live.  We see the recordings as being a separate entity to gigging.  

What are your plans for the remainder of 2018? Is there any chance of an impromptu gig in my hometown of Pontypridd. After all, Mercury Prize winners Wolf Alice rocked up here for a gig in the local Municipal Hall last year! 

Luke: I’m a quarter Welsh and embarrassingly I’ve never been! We have spoken before about a tour of the nations, four gigs in four days, one in each country. I’d be well up for nipping to Pontypridd if I can convince the rest. 

Following on from the release of the excellent "Spite Christmas" last year, can we expect another tilt at the highly prestigious Christmas No. 1 spot this year?

Luke: Watch this space…

“Hollywood” - simply one of the best pop songs ever written!

https://www.facebook.com/sandraswedding/photos/p.1930575567000031/1930575567000031/?type=1&theater