I really love Sleepy Hollow’s juxtaposition of Ichabod and Abby. Ichabod is a tall, British, white man from the past, and Abby is a short, American, black woman from the present. Ichabod is a soldier and a scholar. Abby is a detective and a warrior. And yet, they both value truth, justice, family, strength, goodness, over all else. I love that they’re completely different people who click so throughly. I love that they’re a man and a woman who have an intense bond that isn’t sexual. I love that they both put their lives on the line for the other’s family without knowing them, simply because family is valuable. I love them. Deeply.
busts of some characters i haven’t drawn before - earl harlan, pamela winchell, the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, john peters (yknow, the farmer), the man who is not tall & the man who is not short
Ok so theres this whole controversy about black/mixed/tanned people cosplaying as white/light-skinned characters and its apparently a bad thing. Well lemme tell you something. See that Loki in the picture, thats me. And yes im mixed. When I told my friends I was cosplaying Loki they were thrilled, ecstatic even. When my friend Casey(the Tony in the picture) saw it she was super excited. Everyone loved the pictures and thought I was super brave to be cosplaying a tall white man as im a short tanned woman. When I see people bashing other cosplayers cause the character is white and they arent, consider the fact that the cosplayer doesnt give a shit. They love the character theyre cosplaying and are proud to represent them. Who cares if a dark girl wants to cosplay sailor moon or a white guy wants to cosplay afro samurai. LET THEM!
Cosplay bashing is not ok and it never should be.
My name is Keiko, I cosplay as Loki and im proud of it!
The new service creates the man or woman of your dreams and helps you fake a convincing digital relationship.
When you sign up for the service, you can design a boyfriend (or girlfriend) to your specifications — kind of like picking the genes for a designer baby, except for an imaginary adult. You pick his name, his age, his interests and personality traits. You tell the app if you prefer blonds or brunettes, tall guys or short, guys who like theater or guys who watch sports. Then you swipe your credit card — $25 per month, cha-ching! — and the imaginary man of your dreams starts texting you.
Except … the man on the other end isn’t imaginary. He’s a real human person, texting multiple women, contorting himself to carefully match each one’s specific expectations and fantasies.
If this doesn’t become fic, like, in the next 20 minutes, I’m resigning from fandom.
“I was bitterly disappointed when Sgt. Calhoun married Fix-It Felix. I loved her design, her attitude, everything about her, and wanted desperately for her to be a stand-alone woman instead of having a love interest. It reminds me of the ‘beautiful tall woman/short unconventional man’ tropes in older cartoons, and I was so let down by her having a romance plot. It sounds selfish, it IS selfish, but I can’t help feel disappointed, and I feel alone in that feeling”
“If you were a woman would you wear these?” John Watson blinked earnestly at the six-foot man with the fine coat, then blushed and looked away. “Uh, never mind, that was a stupid question.”
Sherlock Holmes reached across the shoe-strewn table, plucked the heel from the short man’s hand and said, “Describe her in three words.”
Squinting in over-bright department store light, John frowned. “Tall. Dark. Imperious.”
Sneering at the shoe as if it were someone else’s opinion, Sherlock said, “Then no, if I were that woman I would not wear these. Wrong colour, the heel’s too low, and they’re positively refined.”
John started to say something, but the man had already dropped the shoe and moved to a display of stilettos. John followed.
“People forever think the tall wish to be short. They don’t. So that beige, kitten-heeled number? Ridiculous. Unless you want her to think her height bothers you.”
John started to say something, but the tall man handed him a box, flicked out coat tails, and settled on a bench, imperious. John went to his knees in front of him, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
Sherlock toed off a Fratelli Borgioli, placed a long, bare foot in John’s hand. The good doctor slipped a black-velvet stiletto on to it, then shod the other foot.
Sherlock stood and looked down. On his knees, John looked up. All kinds of magical things happened in the intervening space, none of which either man perceived at that moment. That did not stop them from absolutely changing everything.
With a lifted chin Sherlock turned, walked-strutted a dozen feet. He turned with a sway, returned, stood directly in front of John, legs akimbo. It was a mere quirk of fate that his crotch was at the height of John’s mouth.
“These should better suit your girlfriend.”
An imperious brow. “Sister.”
“Uh, no, no. They’re for my sister’s girlfriend.”
The loft of another presumptuous brow.
“Uh, no. For my sister to give—look she’s bad at shop—never mind. I’m not dating…I haven’t got a…I'm…never mind.”
Sherlock Holmes extended a hand. “Come.”
For a man on his knees, the good doctor was awfully light-headed. He swayed woozily, reflexively clutched the man’s fancy trousers, then squealed.
(“Yes you did,” Sherlock murmured against John’s neck seventeen weeks later, “oh yes you did.”)
On six-inch stilettos Sherlock slowly squatted, looked John in the eye. “There’s a rather large—” air quotes “—shoe carnival at Selfridges right now. Tell me more about this girlfriend on the way and we’ll get you into your sister’s good graces.”
Sherlock rose. “Though perhaps you won’t need to be. I’ve got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we should be able to afford it.”
John stood, started to say something, then changed his mind about what he was going to say. He gestured at the abandoned Borgiolis. “Your shoes.”
Sherlock glanced at the expensive Oxfords. “My brother needed a new pair anyway, those have a scratch. And I like these better, don’t you?”
(“Yes you did,” John would say seventeen weeks and two minutes from this moment. “You licked your lips and cocked your hip like a giddy stripper.”)
Right there, in an over-bright store somewhere north along Regent Street, neither man could possibly know that seventeen weeks and several minutes from this moment the only things getting cocked would be, well, them.
So in this series of other ways the boys might have first met, it was Catalyst’s idea that they do so over a pair of pretty shoes. Being as she created the ever-wonderful Sherlock-in-Heels Tumblr I think you can understand her need. Thank you Catalyst! P.S. Here are the shoes Sherlock just put on…
“The world is very confusing. You can make a mistake that might mess you up for the rest of your life. You see a beautiful woman, and you think she’s a good one. But sometimes, she’s evil. The man is blinded by the beauty. This goes the other way, too. Women see a good-looking man and they assume that he is nice. “When I was younger, if you asked a girl what kind of a man she wants, she would say: tall, dark, and handsome. When I was a girl, I only liked tall boys. I wouldn’t date a short boy. I’ve grown up, so I’m mature now. I’ve met some nicer men who were shorter, so I know it doesn’t have to do with their size.”
Conforming is always playing it safe!
If we truly investigate the mystery of self, as the Buddha did, we will find the same truth he found. How can it be different. Truth is Truth. And what is this great Truth? Simple. Behind everything there is only emptiness. Everything we can know is impermanent, and only has the power or reality we give it. In truth, there is nothing that you really are. Everything that builds up your identity is illusion. It’s an idea. The idea to be young or old, tall or short, fat or thin, rich or poor, man or woman, French or English, only exists when held up against its opposite.
You are only a parent in front of your children. You are only a child in front of your parent. You are only the teacher in front of the student. You are only the student in front of the teacher.
When you are alone in your home – what are you then?
So, there is nothing that you really are, and so it must follow, no way you have to be. This is just more mind stuff. More social and cultural control.
What a man is, what a woman is, don’t be deluded by the ideas of others. The world is occupied by unenlightened beings telling everyone how they should be.
Be true to your ‘no-self’ and flow in your life.
May all beings be happy.
I would just like to take the time to thank you for giving me the best tool I could ever have as a young woman living in New York City. This evening on my way home from work I got my daily dose of harassment by a young man who suggested I should “put a smile on that pretty face”. Without skipping a beat, I briskly spun around, straitened both middle fingers tall and proud, and used them to push the corners of my mouth up to form a hideous resemblance of a smile. It was by far one of my greatest moments in my short 25 years of life. I can only hope you’ll continue to provide exceptional life hacks in season 3.
Would anyone be interested in reading and possibly be willing to spread the word if I were to do a crossover fancomic? I’m planning it out right now, and I wanna take a sort of a census as to who would be willing to read it and tell others about it.
Even better if people do cosplay or fanart of it because that would be really awesome actually.
It’s called “Welcome to SBURB Vale” (shortened to WTSV), and it’ll have a good portion of the major characters in Welcome to Night Vale (Cecil, Carlos, Dana/her double, Kevin, Lauren, Tamika Flynn, Steve Carlsberg, The Faceless Old Woman, John Peters (you know, the farmer?), Scout Master Earl Harlan, Erika, The Man Who Is Not Tall, The Man Who Is Not Short, the Apache Tracker, Telly the Barber, and The Man in The Tan Jacket, perhaps with a couple other characters if I can figure out how to fit these characters into the comic), thrown into SBURB and being made to make sense of the whole thing and progress through the game. Plotline is likely to be similar to that of the actual WTNV podcast, with some references and jokes that may or may not make sense if you haven’t listened to the podcast and/or if you skipped episodes.
I’ll need a good amount of support, so if anyone is willing to spread the word and direct people to me by saying “hey this person might do a Homestuck fanadventure based off of the Night Vale podcast” that’d be really great. And I really mean it this time; I know I have some friends who’d be interested, and really the only way I’ll do this at all (except for putting together some personal-use sprites, of course) is if I have a good amount of people showing interest in the concept. If people ask, I can put up some basic sprites, but to avoid spoilers in the comic until I decide whether I’m going to do it or not I’m not going to put up any more than the equivalent of the “a young man stands in his bedroom” (or rather “a man stands in his radio studio”) panel. I won’t give any extra outfits, God Tier titles (except the two I’ve revealed on tumblr if you dig through the bullshit enough to find them or you’re someone close to me who I’m previewing sprites to in order to ask for opinions on them), alchemized items, possible extra modes (like Trickster or Grimdark) anyone goes into, or prototyped sprites. Just basic panels and such. Alright?