Special Flowers - A Superhero Gender Switch

I happened upon some "girl" versions of male superheroes, and was stuck by how extremely over the top sexual they were. To put Batman or Wolverine in that type of porn-poses would certainly raise a few eyebrows, but apparently females do not suffer the same respect. So I looked around and found that, yes, fanart is indeed extremely exaggerated most of the time, but the actual comics are more sensible (it seems even most comic book artists figure you can't fight Magneto in stilettos). This being of course sensible comics, I can't mention Witchblade or Fathom in this context and keep a straight face. (Just google it if you don't know.)

Well, so I decided to make my own gender-switch fanart, but with two conditions:
1) keep the original costume as true as possible.
2) keep the original pose as true as possible.

So here's my little transexual darlings, with the originals down below (since blogger still refuses to put images next to each other... -.-) The coloring is very lazy because, well, I'm lazy.

I'm not happy about Wonder Man, and I apologize to the world for Batwoman but that's his pose I can't by rules change it. On the other hand I'm in love with Spider Man (I loved that suit already on Boobs McBoobpants, so on a pretty boy... mmm), and Superwoman is clearly over-awesoming the original. And who knew that when you turned Invisible Woman male she turned into her brother? A clever eye will see that the only difference between Spider-Man and his female counterpart is boobs, but it's because of his pose ok! There's no curves to work with and no muscles to shrink. And it's "superwoman" not supergirl and "batwoman" not batgirl -.- I'd like to see "Batboy" and "Iron Boy" try to be taken seriously. Invisible Woman is, in many ways, the first lady of Marvel (or superhero comics) in her whole-body suits and "woman" not "girl" name. Which they of course quickly remedied in the movies.

I have failed my conditions on one single point, I'm sure you saw; I kept the Hulk shirtless and even ventured for nipples, but I couldn't put the male Supergirl in a skirt. The point was actually not to make fun of it or whine about sexism, but to see that many of them still make sense (like the gender-switched Superman and Mr. Fantastic) and that women not dressed in skimpy outfits and posing like porn stars are also cool and awesome - as well as the reverse! Special flowers like Elektro also deserve some space - look at that Hand assassin, isn't he some sexy shit? The male Storm turned into a manga character... but this is one of my least favorite Storm costumes.

Don't hold your breaths, but there will probably be more, I have some epic pictures of said Witchblade I'd love to switcharoo and even more agressively manly Batman (I know, how is it possible?!?).

PS. If you're dissatisfied with the average boob size in this post, I would let you know that I suck at drawing girls, and suck even more at drawing boobs, so you should be glad you have boobs to look at at all. I'm rather sure I got progressively better the more of them I drew though, mostly because for every n:th girl, I had to redraw them inifinity - n times.

A Different Kind of Travel Diary

Berlin.

Now nothing but a token in my head, like a notch on a bedpost. I didn't want to take general pictures, at first, because I wanted it all inside, I wanted it to be all mine. No one and nothing can steal memories. They can take them away or destroy them, but never steal them. Then I took pictures, on my "sightseeing day", because the girl I was with did it. Conformity, mimicking to make a bond, more than trying to preserve visual memories. When I came, I knew there were only two photos I wanted and was going to get at any cost. The big arc, and the pieces of the wall at Potsdamer, and I wanted those for one reason only: proof. I was there. I had been there, at those locations, which were exactly where JYJ had been two days earlier. But when I took those two, I thought, in this modern age of internet, photoshop and reality-like graphic technologies, what kind of proof is a photo? No. I still cherish those two photos, but in reality there is only one proof: memories. All mine.

I've been emotionally haywire, it's starting to settle now. Haywire in my own quiet way. And though the dust has settled, the pigments sunk to the bottom of the glass and the water is clearer, I can conjure it back. Just take my little finger and gently draw it over the water surface and see the colors swirl. All I need to think is "I walked away, I left of free will." Being on my own in a foreign environment, I realized, happiness doesn't come in many forms it comes it one. One. And it has not been here for a while. I walked away, I left of free will, I willingly walked back into my cauldron of despair.

Loving someone you don't know is like an addiction to the pain. A pain that makes you feel more alive than ever, and then, when it settles, makes you want to claw your eyes out, just to a moment later be chasing the high again. I must never let go of my vow to never drink alone. I must never smoke a cigarette, and I must be careful with medicine. Because it's so easy. It's so easy to want the addiction, and once you want it, you're not longer steering the boat, you're just riding the waves, the ups and the downs. It's wonderful, it's liberating, it's an illusion of freedom so strong you can no longer see any other freedom.

Berlin.

Without JYJ Berlin is just a city like any other city, filled with people like any other people, and buildings like any other buildings. Sticks and stones, flesh and bones. But it's not about JYJ, you know that, just like it's not really about alcohol or pills or cigarettes. It's about that through my own madness, for one day only, I gave Berlin wings and turned it into something beautiful. And like all true art, it lasted only for an all too short time.