Just a place where i put all my weird (but cool) shit
any pronouns(except she) +neopronouns / punk /loves diy/unlabled
If you a bigot GET BLOCKED BOZO!!
cringe is dead! Have fun! get weirder!
I love COD, ATSV, EAH,MH (and lots more things)=3
"Sourcebook of Sherlock Hound" new artbook (October 2025).
328 pages of designs, image boards and layouts from the anime series directed by Hayao Miyazaki & Kyosuke Mikuriya.
(Pre-orders)
Lately my brother and I have been obsessed with a show called Sherlock Hound. If you read that and thought: what, a beautiful 1984 anime Sherlock Holmes adaption where everyone is anthropomorphic dogs? You would be correct.
Sherlock, is, obviously, a hound, Watson is a Scottish Terrier, Lestrade is some kind of bulldog I think, and Moriarty is some kind of weird purple rat-dog. Moriarty is the culprit in basically every episode and has been completely team-rocket-ified. Everyone in the dub has the most insane british accents you have ever heard.
It's also genuinely very beautiful to look at with a lovely soundtrack, and has many episodes directed by none other than Hayao Miyazaki himself. As evidenced by:
Moriarty's weird flying machine
This little girl who is just ponyo (but a dog but also strawberry shortcake)
This very nonsensically complicated coin pressing machine, among other things
Professor Moriarty is everything you could ever ask for in a cartoon villain: cape, monocle, cane, unwavering overconfidence, says things like "You gormless twit!", pronounces normal words in a way that cannot be described, only experienced, and of course followed by two poor henchmen, Smiley and Todd.
Todd is the only one without a british accent, sounding like a new york city mobster, which we can only imagine hints to an in-world henchman-exchange program.
I don't want to say anything about Ms. Hudson because the episodes with her taking a front seat that we've watched so far are too good to spoil.
Let's just say: she's perfect.
This has been my Sherlock Hound PSA. Thank you for your time.
Hey there people, let me introduce ya to one of my favourite childhood shows, also for those of you who speak Spanish it's free to watch right now on pluto tv
Lately my brother and I have been obsessed with a show called Sherlock Hound. If you read that and thought: what, a beautiful 1984 anime Sherlock Holmes adaption where everyone is anthropomorphic dogs? You would be correct.
Sherlock, is, obviously, a hound, Watson is a Scottish Terrier, Lestrade is some kind of bulldog I think, and Moriarty is some kind of weird purple rat-dog. Moriarty is the culprit in basically every episode and has been completely team-rocket-ified. Everyone in the dub has the most insane british accents you have ever heard.
It's also genuinely very beautiful to look at with a lovely soundtrack, and has many episodes directed by none other than Hayao Miyazaki himself. As evidenced by:
Moriarty's weird flying machine
This little girl who is just ponyo (but a dog but also strawberry shortcake)
This very nonsensically complicated coin pressing machine, among other things
Professor Moriarty is everything you could ever ask for in a cartoon villain: cape, monocle, cane, unwavering overconfidence, says things like "You gormless twit!", pronounces normal words in a way that cannot be described, only experienced, and of course followed by two poor henchmen, Smiley and Todd.
Todd is the only one without a british accent, sounding like a new york city mobster, which we can only imagine hints to an in-world henchman-exchange program.
I don't want to say anything about Ms. Hudson because the episodes with her taking a front seat that we've watched so far are too good to spoil.
Let's just say: she's perfect.
This has been my Sherlock Hound PSA. Thank you for your time.
please read this even if you're not indian. especially if you're not indian.
you've seen the jokes. india is "dirty", indians are "everywhere", why don't they fix their own country. ok. let me tell you why, and what's happening right now while nobody's watching.
first, the history you skipped: britain ruled india for two centuries and drained it. economist utsa patnaik's research estimates around $45 trillion in today's money was taken. the india that got independence in 1947 was one of the poorest countries on earth. every "why is india like this" question starts there. you don't get to profit off a robbery and then mock the crime scene.
now, what's happening RIGHT NOW:
in may the question paper for NEET leaked. that's the national medical entrance exam. over 2.2 million students took it. cancelled. years of studying, families' savings poured into coaching, gone overnight because someone sold the paper. students died by suicide after. these were kids who wanted to be doctors.
and out of that came a protest movement. a gen z group called the cockroach janta party, started by a 30 year old named abhijeet dipke, got 22 million instagram followers within DAYS. they've been doing a sit-in at jantar mantar in delhi demanding education minister dharmendra pradhan resign.
and then there's sonam wangchuk. if you've watched 3 idiots, he's the real engineer the character was based on. built solar schools in ladakh. invented ice stupas so himalayan villages have water. spent his whole life on education. he's 59 and he's been on hunger strike for 17+ days now. reporters went to see him this week and he was too weak to talk. and the troll armies are calling him "anti national" and "foreign funded". a man starving himself for other people's children. that's the thing here, anyone who asks a question is suddenly a traitor.
it's not one incident, it's everywhere you look:
⢠infrastructure worth thousands of crores failing within months of the ribbon cutting. tunnels collapsing in regions where heavy rain is a guarantee, not a surprise.
⢠youth unemployment near 10% for ages 15 to 29, 13.6% in cities. in a country of 1.42 billion where more than half the population is young.
⢠only about the top 3% of indians earn above 10 lakh a year. meanwhile billionaire wealth keeps ballooning and the headlines celebrate it.
⢠manipur burned for over two years. an ethnic conflict, tens of thousands displaced, and the prime minister barely said the word manipur while it happened.
⢠journalists raided. critics' houses bulldozed. activists sitting in jail for years without trial under laws like UAPA. our press freedom ranking has cratered.
⢠even the petrol is a fight now, ethanol blending pushed through while drivers complain about their engines and get no straight answers.
and through all of it, the PM, who came to power on religious polarisation (americans, sound familiar?), travels abroad for photo ops and has not held one single open press conference in over a decade. not one.
what i'm asking:
if you're not indian: share this. our media mostly won't cover any of it because the big outlets are owned by the same billionaires the government serves. the only reason wangchuk's fast is getting any coverage is people refusing to look away.
if you ARE indian: speak up even if you're comfortable. especially if you're comfortable. join the protests. add to this, correct me, translate it. staying quiet is a choice when nothing in this post touches your life.
india is not "dirty". india was robbed, and it's being robbed again, from the inside this time. but it's also the country where a 59 year old will starve for strangers' kids and 22 million young people will rally behind a party literally named after cockroaches, because cockroaches survive everything.
bc I wanted to see how their sleepwear would look like on the show.
Also, here's the comparison with the original :
Pixel sprite:
I didn't remove the roman numbers because I don't know if they are makeup or tattos, hope that they are makeup, the tattoo would have been hell to get (,,â˘áˇďšââ˘áˇ ,,)
Anyways! Here's the one without the glove, I didn't continue because it looked odd:
Coupe was never prepared for how Punch Up made her feel so much like a lady.
Their passionate affair? Yes, that instant connection was something else, bloodlust bleeding into actual lust bleeding into touch starved connectionâ that was one thing, certainly, the carnality of it. The enjoyment of it. The fact that she could touch and touch and he would never breakâ something so secure about it, and humbling, to find a match in her skills.
But then itâs afterwards.
Sheâs laid out on a bed a bit too small for her body, and her target is gone. She actually fell asleep, somehow. She should leave, get away before he realizes just how vulnerable he has her, get her back for trying to kill him. But then the door opens, and she freezes, ready to strike, because now sheâs aware just how vulnerable she is, and that is more terrifying than she can ever admitâ
âHey, I brought you some coffee, darlinâ,â A voice far too soft for yesterdayâs activities comes, and her eyes snap open. If he detects her confusion, he doesnât show it. Just a dapper smile, holding one big mug and two empty cups. âDoubt youâd need the pick me up, but I got some cheap-ass liquor in a cabinet some where if you take it strong. Otherwise, canât offer much else, sorryâ fridgeâs a bit empty oâ sugar or milk.â
Coupe sits up, careful, eyes going over him. Sheâs never truly failed beforeâ it was never allowed. It had been very thoroughly taught that failure meant death. If not from her trainers, then from those she had tried to killâ
And yet here he was offering her coffee. Like she was⌠a hook up, a date, like from the shitty romcoms she secretly watched in between targets, or when sheâd go undercover and just had to buy herself one of those edgy romance novels to definitely not actually read. She hesitated, taking a mug. She waited for him to pour himself a cup first, wondering if poisons would affect him at all either. âI can take it black, MrâŚâ She hesitated.
âNameâs Colm, by the way. And if may I have the pleasure of knowing yours?â
She knew his name, of course. Sheâd been paid to kill him after all. That was why she hesitated to say it. But he responded so⌠genially. â⌠Janelle.â It was foolish, dangerous, against every code she knewâ but when Colm beamed at her, and poured her cup, it felt like she had done something right. She carefully took a sip, and the warmth of a cup of mediocre coffee had never been so inviting.
They never made it official, her work would never allow it, her vices doubly so. But when they crossed paths, for some reason they always ended up crossing paths, heâs always got something to say, or do, that made her melt bit by bit.
âSilver looks good on you,â when she first changed her suit to its more deadly design. That time, heâd asked her to take a break before her next kill, and go out with him. They did end up going to a pub with a fighting ring in it⌠but heâd gifted her the silver champion belt. âGot a ton of these things, you know. Iâm sure a pretty lass like you could use it.â And she didâ melted down, it made a lovely knife.
âCan you stop getting hits on you? Itâs a bad look to explain to clients youâre unkillable.â She had said another time, drinking with him at a bar, laughing softly as he teased an olive into her mouth.
âHey, not my fault you get hired by sore losers.â Colm would laugh, before his eyes narrowed suddenly. âSpeaking of losers. Those guys have been staring at you for a while. Friends of yours?â
âOh, the ones sitting over at the end of the bar? Theyâre actually some hits of mine, believe it or not. Theyâre probably casing the whole bar for any one matching my description. Talking to you is giving me some great cover, actually, since Iâm not known for being so friendly with anyone.â She leaned in close,
âOh, that makes sense. Still, I donât like the look they got in their eyes. I could take care of them for you, if youâd like?â
Coupe paused at that, before she just laughed, and laughed. Softly at first, but harder when she realized he was serious, draping herself over Colm despite their height difference. Because someone being concerned about her? Of all people? That hadnât happened in a long timeâ and it felt so, so nice, it made her giddy, like one of her romantasy protagonists. She cupped his face, seeing how his eyes widened as she got so close, and whispered.
âOnly if I get to watch.â
âWhen did you cut your hair, darlinâ?â He asks, the next time they got together, on the rooftop of a casino in Los Angeles, the last of her savings spent on the drink she was nursing in her hand.
âMy knives kept slicing through my longer hair.â It was a lie. A half lie, sort of. They did do that, she just didnât care. No, this time was because of her last hit. Well, she hadnât been paid, and wouldnât be by her old trainers ever again. Still, you do come to mourn those who raised you, in some sense. Colm seemed to notice something off about her demeanor, and choice his next words carefully.
âIt gives you⌠a stately look, mature. Wisened, I should say.â
Janelle considered those words, overlooking the city skyline. âIf I were wiser, Iâd get out the assassin business.â
Colm reached out, a put a comforting hand on her elbow. âWell, you could, if you want to. Meself, Iâve got a gig lined up. You could⌠You could even stay with me, you know. Until you find out something else, you wanna do.â
It wasnât a fairytale proposal, or the grim dark declaration of mad love sheâd come to enjoy in her novels. But yet, it made her feel quite a bit more than sheâd like to admit, like a damsel being offered a ride from a valiant prince. âI think Iâd like that, Colm. A lot.â
