sparky-sparky-boom-man

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

Petition to remake Starstruck as a series that fleshes out the storyline and gives Jessica a background that explains why she’s such a bitch and a personality beyond “she’s smart and mean and not like other girls”

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

“Attracted to them books” LMFAOOOO

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

You clearly havent read Bennys backstory

Benny Gecko is a war criminal!

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

Is he

Is he meant to look exactly like Patrick Stewart?

I drew a Sazed

(click for quality)

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

Any time someone tells me birds aren’t descended from dinosaurs, I show them this.

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

Only if you’re a coward

A butt load of dildos is one dildo

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

I thought was rdj just being rdj

Dolittle: How to Talk to Animals

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

A First Kiss, A Last Kiss

“I won’t,” the hero asserted stubbornly, the villain narrowed their eyes.

“Look,” they all but growled, “We don’t have time for your heroic idiocy. You’re going. I’m staying. It’s that simple.”

Again, the hero shook their head in refusal.

They refused to let the villain die.

“You don’t have a choice,” the villain’s tone brooked no refusal, “You’re going to walk out that door, only one of us can,”

“Then you go, I’ll stay,”

The villain’s eyes hardened and the hero felt their hands go shaky, this wasn’t happening. They fought. They fought so hard to bring the villain back to the light, back to them, and now- now that they had finally managed it, it was too late.

“Why?” The hero cried, a tear falling down their face. “This isn’t fair,” they growled hotly, ignoring the wetness on their cheeks.

The villain smirked, “Life rarely is,”

“Why,” the hero croaked, repeating their futile question, “Why you?”

“Because,” the villain breathed, “My time is done,” they held the hero’s hand in their own, “You’re the only one who can fix this.”

“No,” the hero whispered, their own tear-filled eyes searched the villain’s intently, “Not without you,”

The corner of the villain’s mouth jerked, forming a sort of half smile, “That’s sweet, love,” they leaned their forehead against the hero’s, “But we both know you never needed me,”

Both the villain and the hero closed their eyes, allowing themselves to be lost in this single moment of peace with each other.

The ground rumbled, and they parted.

Panic struck the hero and they jerked, burying their face in the hero’s neck and grasping at their shirt, they couldn’t let go, they wouldn’t let go. If they did, they’d never see the villain’s stupid, beautiful face again.

The villain slowly pushed the hero back and laid a careful hand upon the hero’s face,

“Love,” they stressed, their voice cracking with emotion, dark, pained eyes flashed with something and they, ever so slowly, leaned in and placed a gentle kiss upon the hero’s lips. The hero barely registering the sensation before melting into it.

It was soft and sweet, tentative and loving and filled with all the passion of days that would never come.

The ground shook with all the rage of a scorned goddess, cracks and chasms beginning to appear, splitting the brown earth.

Time was up.

It was now or never.

“No,” the hero choked as the villain pulled back, hot tears beginning to pour down their face, “Please, I can’t lose you again,” their voice caught, “Not again,”

The villain took a large breath and stepped back, “This isn’t like before,” they said softly, they voice filled with all the pain they would never say.

“Go,” They urged quietly, their own tears beginning to fall.

“Please don’t,” the hero begged, sobbing, and the villain’s eyes turned the softest they’d ever been and they reached out their arm, their thumb wiping clean the hero’s cheek of tears.

“I caused this whole thing,” they whispered brokenly, “The least I can do is pay my dues,”

The hero shook their head ferociously, but before they could speak the villain’s eyes hardened once more.

Stepping forward quickly, they pressed a quick kiss to the hero’s forehead, pulling them in for a last embrace.

“Now go save the world,”

The second the words were uttered the villain pushed the hero backwards and through the doorway. Leaving the villain with a final picture of wide eyes and tearstained cheeks before they, and the doorway, disappeared.

‘At least they were safe’ was the villain’s last thought before the world went dark and the ground swallowed them whole.

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

Bruce Wayne was 19 when he met her. He had been interviewing candidates for their continuation of Wayne scholarships, something Alfred had guilted and bothered him into, and she was on the list. Just a year older than him and already halfway through her degree at Gotham Medical, Harleen Quinzel had a sleek blonde ponytail, an off-the-charts IQ, near perfect test scores, and steely blue eyes. He had barely glanced at her before telling her that he was approving her file and that she could leave, but when she didn’t move, he turned to give her an actual look. Then she called him a coward. She called him a coward and told him to give her a real interview, that she wasn’t leaving until he did. It was one of the rare times Bruce had to hide a smile. Maybe people weren’t so bad after all.

Bruce Wayne was 25 when he met her again. Just barely come home to Gotham with knowledge in his head, determination in his heart, and a secret to be worn in the dark. In the light, however, he had a different part to play, and parties were thrown and galas attended. It was at a benefit when he saw her, a doctor now. She recognized him too, of course, and in an instant snapped her eyes of steel on him and asked if he was still a coward and, for the first time in a long, long while, Bruce threw his head back and truly laughed. They laughed together, talking for the rest of the night, with her laughing at him and with him. From that night on, at every event Bruce Wayne attended, Doctor Harleen Quinzel was at his side.

Bruce Wayne was 27 when she disappeared. He wasn’t quite sure how he got through it with his sanity. Weeks were spent searching, he ran himself ragged every night trying to find a trace. He hounded the police as both Batman and Bruce, he pursued every last shred of evidence, he even organized and coordinated search patrols. And yet, night after night, nothing new turned up. It was a month before the GCPD gave up. It was two before he did.

Bruce Wayne was 29 when he met Harley Quinn. That was the first time he met her, and he would never say otherwise because this woman, this woman who did nothing but follow the Joker around with stars in her eyes, this woman who committed horrible acts for his approval... this woman wasn’t Harleen. He knew in his head that they were the same person, but this ungrounded, unbalanced woman could hardly be recognized as the Harleen he knew. Harleen, wonderful, funny, smart, independent, intense, challenging Harleen with her eyes of steel. There was no steel in her eyes anymore, only fire. Fire that burned and danced whenever he saw them. It was only later, once he found the security tapes for ACE chemicals did Bruce understand what had happened, and it was only then that he felt true hatred. He saw her fall from the platform and the man who pushed her, all for a laugh, and Bruce felt it form. He could feel it now, pure, unrivaled, unadulterated hatred for the Joker. There was a small tug on his shirt and, his train of thought broken, Bruce turned to find a little boy rubbing his eyes sleepily. Sighing, he bent down and scooped the boy up, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he walked down the hall. Dick would’ve loved her, he thought sadly before shaking the thought out of his head. There would be time to grieve later.

Bruce is 44 now. His children fight alongside him and his cowl hides his face, hides his eyes as he stares out at the woman he would’ve given the world to. The press believes that he never married because he wanted to keep playing the field, but he knows the truth. He knows that he had only ever truly loved one. She grins up at him from her position on the ground and wiggles her bound fingers, jokes falling from her lips faster than the rain from the sky. The fight was over, and had ended a while ago with no chance of starting again, but he found himself unable to leave just yet. He never could just leave when the fight ended, not with her, never with her. With her, he always found himself needing to wait as long as possible, if only to get a longer look at her. It had been years since he’d had hope that his friend would be returned to him, longer still since he’d been able to recognize her, but sometimes there were moments. Glimpses of kindness and sanity, flashes of steel, small moments where he saw her, where Harleen shone through. They never lasted long, and were easily missed, but he was unwilling to miss them, wanting to see as much of her as he could. So he waited, and he watched. His children all knew his habit by then, each of them having come their own conclusion for his reasons, and one by one they left him to it, Jason with a promise of dinner next week. Bruce files that away for later and continues his vigil. She’s giggling now, just like she used to, and gives a snort at the end. He holds back a smile, just like he used to, and ends it with a sigh. He reaches up to rub his brow and, when the police arrive, immediately stalks off, ignoring her calls of farewell as he slid into the Batmobile. It was times like this that were the hardest, the times when he could almost convince himself to truly seek her out again. To speak to her as Bruce instead of Bats for the first time in well over a decade. That maybe, just maybe, she’d be happy to see him too. It was always then that reality would have to step in and remind him that she very clearly didn’t want anything to do with her old life, and a reunion with Harleen’s best friend would not be met with joy. So he would stay where he was now, watching over her from afar, happy with seeing she was safe. Regardless of how distant it was, he could be comforted by she no longer had anything to do with the Joker, long having realized his true character, and the only crimes she seemed to commit anymore were usually non-violent. He could be satisfied with that. Whenever he thinks that, a small voice always whispered that he was lying to himself, and that he didn’t know for sure that she would hate seeing him. He would entertain this thought for a few seconds and then write it off again because the simple fact was that if he approached her as Bruce, he’d be risking more than he was willing to lose. A sardonic smile tugs on the corner of his lips. He could practically hear her rant, hear her calling him a coward. By the stars, did he miss her. Shaking his head, Bruce let a sad smile shape his lips, and he drives off.

Batman AU

So I really really love Batman and Harley Quinn, and I have a headcanon that I nurse that the reason Bats is so, for lack of a better word, gentle when dealing with Harley Quinn is because he knows her. I mean I know a big part of it is because he knows the Joker manipulated and abused her and he knows what she’s like when the Jokers not around(pregnant Black Canary cmon) Like yeah, I know that technically he didn’t meet her until she was villaining alongside Joker but like… the writers are missing what could be a very interesting arc. What if they met as Bruce Wayne and Harleen Quinzel instead of Batman and Harley Quin. I think that’s an interesting pathway that would be worth exploring.

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

So obviously jk Rowling’s interpretation of magical society in America is absolutely shit. It’s fucking awful, no way around it, she did the least amount of research she could, she absolutely didn’t care about the casual racism of how she treated Native Americans and it shows. But, ignoring all that for a second, I really fucking hate Ilvermorny. I do. I really do.

So first off, instead of devising some sort of cool, ancient magic school or system of learning that belonged to indigenous tribes, she just fucking slapped another pasty Irish lady with the task of making another hogwarts in America and bringing wands and introducing “proper” magic to America(which has an uncomfortably colonizing vibe to it).

Second, it’s in a castle. A castle. An ancient castle. In America. So I get that they have magic but not only is that stupid as fuck considering it was early America and ye old lady Isolde or whatever the fuck definitely had better things to do than building a fucking castle, where in the goddamn world would she have gotten time to build it? In the midst of fighting off dysentery because this uncivilized land has no magic cures and she never went to school? Did she get hell from her good Puritan neighbor Jeremiah with the 12 kids and pneumonia who’s constantly on the hunt for witches to burn?

Third, jk originally meant for it to be another boarding school, and only changed in on Pottermore after everyone pointed out how fucking stupid it was when America has no boarding school culture.

And lastly why the fuck is it the only magic school in America???? That doesn’t even make the slightest sense. Not only is America fucking ginormous compared to the UK and it’s very doubtful that parents would just let their kids travel across the fucking country twice a day, if you calculate the population of all the magical, school-age children in America(I’m including the territories because fuck you) you wil almost always get a number upwards of 25,000. 25,000 is the size of a small city, not the ideal population of a single school. Continuing on that, ilvermorny apparently accepts students from all over North America. So that number gets infinitely bigger once you include students from Canada, Greenland, and Iceland. Which means you end up with a single school housing tens of thousands of teenagers everyday.

No matter how you try to reason it, maybe it’s like a college, maybe they have giant classrooms, maybe they have thousands of teachers, this is just the most horribly designed school ever. And it was really fucking dumb of jkr to assume that A) the only school that would work in America is a second hogwarts. B) that we wanted a second hogwarts instead of something unique to us. C) that any part of hogwarts could be ported over to America and just work. And D) that she thought she could get away with this.

So, in defiance of the endless problems and mindless stupidity that Ilvermorny presents, I have a headcanon that helps me survive its presence in canon. It doesn’t exist.

No, I’m not pretending that it literally doesn’t exist like we all do to the disgrace that I the Cursed Child. I mean it’s like a continent-wide inside joke. So maybe a young witch had a conversation like this one day.

British wizard: Yeah mate, everyone goes the Hogwarts, where else would we go? What’s your school called?

American witch: my... school? Are you asking for my school name or all the names? Because I don’t know all of them

BW: Doesn’t everyone in North America go to the same school?

AW: *narrows eyes, thinks about the fundamental differences between Britain and the Americas and wonders how someone could come up with that conclusion* no, we all go to local schools

BW: *flabbergasted* you mean you don’t go and live at your school with everyone else?

AW: buddy, we don’t have the same culture, a single school for all America is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard

BW: this is ridiculous! That’s what we do at Hogwarts and Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in the world!

AW: *annoyed sigh*

Maybe this conversation happens a few times with varying people, AW meets others who’ve also had conversations like this with British people, eventually this happens

Different British Wizard: Yeah so I went to Hogwarts like everyone else back home, does everyone in America go to the same school?

AW: ...... yes

BW: What’s it called?

AW: uh... uh... illllvermoorny. Yeah, that’s it, Ilvermorny. Best real school ever. Love it.

BW: Cool! Does it have houses?

AW: ahhhh.... yes? *searches head for American creatures that this asshole can’t call her bullshit on* there’s four... the uh... thunderbird... the... pudwudgie..... uh, the horned serpent, and the uh, uh.. wampus. Yep, those four.

It just snowballed from there with this poor American witch lying out of her ass and she made up a whole creation story that, if you look close enough, was definitely not well thought through. But it seemed to get the guy off her back and so she spread the word, told all her friends that ‘hey if anybody not from North America asks us about our school system tell them this’ and her friends told their friends and so on and so forth until every magical person in North America knew it.

They keep up the pretense to this day, everybody just bullshits about Ilvermorny to every European person they meet. Europe is the only place that still believes Ilvermorny is real, everywhere else has at least something similar, their own version of multiple schools, there’s just too many people to only have. Except in Europe.

Every now and then some honest fellow tries to tell the truth, about the hundreds of schools, the focus on ancient Magics that the native tribes used, their history program that tells the stories of witches and wizards in slavery and internment camps, and how the wars the English had with the goblins were so very inconsequential when it came to the underground factions and resistance against slavery and native ethnic genocide. They laugh, they say that doesn’t make sense, it couldn’t possibly be true. They say that there was no way wizard and muggle society could be that intertwined, don’t try to get one over on me you silly yank. So the Americans tell the Europeans what they want to hear, after all they won’t listen to anything else, everyone’s tried.

Tldr: Ilvermorny is a fake school that Americans pretend is real so they don’t have to try and explain the differences in schooling to Europeans

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

Imagine

The Other Side from the Greatest Showman, but instead of zac Efron and Hugh Jackman it’s Gandalf and bilbo

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

that Diana Wynne Jones interview where she’s like “I don’t understand why so many girls are into Howl, it must be because they want the challenge of fixing him” is so optimistic, like DWJ’s out here hoping I at least want to make him a more functional person as if “rogue academic turned melodramatic fashion disaster whose social skills Do Not live up to his own hype” is not a perfectly valid thing to be attracted to 

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

It’s funny to me that when the first one happened to jk Rowling and the potterheads and she freaked out and tried to fix it but only exacerbated everything and most of her former fans proceeded to the second one

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

Yes I know we’re here to hang out but ten o clock so bed o clock so night night goodbye and happy birthday

[sparky-sparky-boom-man]

What makes you think they coordinated it? Nah, the dummies just came up with the idea on they own and thought “oh that’ll be so funny I’ll surprise him” and then it just happened like that

The real question is: which one of them thought to wear those costumes?