You Are Feeling Very Creepy!

...The white-haired man cried out, his velvety baritone roughening into a hoarse bellow. At last, his tautly-muscled body fell forward onto a mound of pillows. He rolled over onto his back, and sighed. His pale eyes roamed hungrily over the lanky, hairy form of his lover. "Truly, you are magnificent," he purred. "It seems an epoch since last I was loved with such tenderness -- or such savagery!" He chuckled, softly.

The other man was quite tall, with unshorn hair that surrounded his head in a shaggy corona. He swept a few stray curls away from his eyes, and grinned. "Think nothing of it, my good fellow," he said, warmly. "Jellybaby?" He plucked a handful of the candies from a nearby dish.

The white-haired man's smile shrank a bit, became unsure. "Mightn't we--? That is, we do have all the time in the world...!"

The tall man leaned over the white-haired man, and playfully rubbed his stomach. "I'm afraid it just can't be done, old boy! Duty calls, and all that." He poked the white-haired man's chest. "Now, you must promise me to be a 'good lad' until we meet again!" Suddenly, he was on his feet, and donning his trousers. He tossed the white-haired man his clothes, without looking at him. "Ah! Don't fret, you silly sausage! I have a gift for you." He strolled over to where the white-haired man was glumly pulling up his socks.

The tall man took the golden medallion from around his neck, and slipped it onto the white-haired man's broad shoulders. "It's a family heirloom," said the tall man, solemnly. "It's special. Just like you, my love. Swear to me -- you must swear it -- that whenever you look at it, you'll think of us."

The white-haired man's ashen face took on a soft pink glow. "Oh! Always!" He pressed the medallion to his lips, and then -- impulsively -- leaned forward and kissed his curly-haired lover.

"Let me help you dress," said the tall man, with a hint of impatience in his voice.

A minute later, the white-haired man was fully-attired, save for his hat. "I shall never forget this night," he said, sadly. "Would that I could be your constant companion! But alas, the currents of Fate draw this traveler to another place, and another time. We shall meet again; of that I am sure. But until then, I must remain... a stranger." He placed his fedora on his head, and vanished.

Wordlessly, the tall man sauntered over to the nearest wall, and removed a large panel. He retrieved another gold medallion from its storage place, and slipped it about his neck.

The Omega Knees

Ah, a typical New Yorker, dressed for the subway.

I have so many questions.

How did he get past the front desk, dressed like that? Does he have a key card? What is the guy watching the security monitors doing right now? Eating a hoagie? And masturbating to this very scene? Why couldn't "To Catch a Predator" be like this? Is that a gun, or a video camera from 1982? And was it really necessary to put his super-logo on his knees? Is that where he expects his clients and victims to focus their eyes? His knees? Does he have big knees, and is he kind of sensitive about it? Like in the middle of a conversation, he'll get all offended, and huff, "I'm up here"?

...And Cinemax is Born!

In the days before "naughty web-cams", people had to work with whatever technology they had on hand.

(Even creepier: Cookie and his girlfriend appear to be ambulatory ventriloquists' dummies.)

The Sneerness of You

See, this is why "Moose" from Archie Comics should never be allowed to dress himself.

...Okay, so the mesh t-shirt was my idea. But then that big dumb dope had to accessorize it with a three-sizes-too-small fedora, a woolen suit coat (Who does he think he is? Sonny Crockett?) and his mom's scarf. GAH.

Meanwhile, the three points of the Universe's Most Boring Love Triangle don't realize that they're sitting in the mouth of a giant parasitic plant, which will soon snap shut and dissolve their stupid, quarreling bodies.

Put Your Cat Clothes On

Back in February, Ryan Eldridge (of Westchester is for Lovers fame) asked me to redesign the costume of one of the X-verse's blandest, most generic mutants (and that's really saying something): Rusty Collins.

I remember reading about Rusty in some of Jeremy's old "X-Factor" comics. My impression of him: a nondescript, red-haired "nice guy" with pyrokinetic powers and a pleasant disposition, and that's about it. He and his equally bland girlfriend, "Skids", were like an even less-exciting version of Justice and Firestar, if you can imagine such a thing.

According to the Font Of All Wisdom (Wikipedia), Rusty later adopted the mucho Image-y moniker of "Firefist." *snicker* He got brainwashed by Stryfe -- y'know, the guy with the helmet that looks like a Cuisinart attachment. And then he aligned himself with Magneto. And then he got killed. Because he's boring.

Well, I don't think Rusty would have ended up as just another dead Marvel mutant (there's roughly a bajillion of them at this point), if his creators (Bob Layton and Jackson Guice) had just bothered to toughen his sorry ass up in the first goddamn place. In other words, they could've made him less like Howie Cunningham and more like Fonzie. [Edited to add: As Captain Nice Guy points out in the comments section, I meant to refer to Richie Cunningham, and not his dad. Still, I'm leaving my goof intact, since Rusty was a mite -- to borrow a phrase from Captain Nice Guy -- "Tom Bosley-esque".]

Which brings me to my styling choices. I knew I wanted to make him more like a runaway "street kid" (minus the prostitution) than the square he actually was. That way, he'd be somebody who could handle himself a little better, score a more interesting girlfriend, and not get stuck hanging out with melon-headed twelve-year-olds (Artie and Leech, I'm talking to you). After considering a "grunge" theme for him, I decided to hew to a musical subculture that was actually around when he debuted in the mid-1980's: rockabilly! After all, Layton and Guice had once "humorously" dressed the Beast in a retro-themed suit and glasses, a la Elvis Costello. Why couldn't they have styled Rusty like Brian Setzer?

Now, this guy has a yen for twanging guitars, curvaceous dames, and "car culture." Maybe Marvel could have gotten Coop to draw a miniseries about him! And I can guarantee he wouldn't be stuck looking after a couple of macrocephalic twerps. Naw, he'd be too busy scoring.

As you can see, the new-and-improved Rusty has a wicked 80's pompadour (it's fluffy!) and muttonchops, plus some kick-ass arm tattoos. The tattoos are designed like the stylized flames found on the sides of hotrods back then. The silhouette of the boots mirrors the pear shape of the flames. And the entire outfit is leather, natch. The studded belt has a nifty "devil's head" buckle, and it hangs low, just like some actual rockabilly musicians used to wear them in the 1980's. Note also the chain, going to his wallet. I've designed a devilish "R" logo for him. And -- since it makes more sense with his powers, and it just sounds tougher -- I bet he'd change his nickname to "Red." A Spirit-style mask completes the look.

There ya go, Ryan! And it only took me about four months! *chuckles nervously, then looks down at floor*