#need a spark

[strawberry-daiquiris]

i love love love your piastrell series so much! it’s the greatest balance of adorable and weird (the two essential components to a great ship) each part was just mind blowingly good, would you ever consider writing more? <3

thank you anon this is very sweet and honestly their entire thesis - adorable and weird about each other.

yeah definitely i’d write more for them, to be honest they are one of the head canons i consider the most (the other two are girl!lando and a/b/o) in a bit of a “ok how would they react to THAT” whenever something happens sort of way, which in some ways has made writing the next instalment a bit tricky. i started a pt 4 before brazil last year but we all know what the vibes were like then and i ended up dropping it because i wanted to avoid having to fully face the implications of max being THAT torn between his best friend and his boyfriend. thankfully the vibes are way less grim this year (so far touch wood etc.) so it’s looking good for piastrell.

on another more weird and a bit wanky note - i sometimes worry that people think that sequel fics are too self-indulgent. like yeah, i care what happens to these characters because i’ve spent days/weeks/months with them in my head, but i don’t want to presume readers care that deeply? even though when a writer i like does a sequel i’m running through the dash ringing a bell like i’m in a provincial town square or something. i suppose i just worry it's more of the same when everyone else is doing something unique, and maybe i just need to get over myself because this isn't a job and i don't need to hit some creativity or popularity KPI?!?

anyway less about how writing Feels (and how would I know when I haven’t written anything for like a month lol honestly this drought is BAD, chat) and more about piastrell, here’s the opening to the brazil fic that never was, RIP.

“I’m not banned from Brazil, chat. Don’t be silly.”

He’s not.

Not officially, anyway. It’s not like some lad on the desk at the border is going to open his passport up and recognise someone on the no fly list, wedged between a drug trafficker and someone who’s there to chain themselves to a tree in the Amazon, or something.

“I’m just doing some bits of my own, aren’t I? Apparel stuff, the road trip, Sweden, which is going to be a sick campaign chat, by the way, if you even care…”

The apparel samples came back the wrong colour. Sweden had been cold. The road trip had been a bit of a disaster. He reckons him and Ethan came within about 3 minutes of joining some kind of sex gang or something, major danger of getting penetrated on the back of the CyberTruck. 

And he’s not banned from Brazil. Not technically.

He’s just been asked not to come.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ignorantia Neminem Excusat

(Ignorance excuses no one, lat.)

"Commissioner."

Jim Gordon doesn't jump. They are years and years into this rodeo, he's stopped actually jumping at Batman's silent approach a long time ago. Yet, Bruce still notices the way his shoulders twitch just the tiniest bit, and his hand makes an aborted motion to his gun holster. Still got it.

The man turns around. Bruce can see the 'must you always do that?' in his slightly narrowed eyes. He presses his lips tightly together in order to not smirk: Batman doesn't do that, even if it's admittedly funny to see the seasoned Commissioner get spooked every time.

"There's a kid that wants to speak with you."

Bruce frowns. A kid that warranted a BatSignal? Not that he minds, but this is highly unusual for several reasons; however, Jim is not the kind of man that would fall for puppy eyes of any level, so it must be something more important than an autograph session or a victim of any of the recent cases.

Besides, the way Commissioner worded it implies that the kid, whoever they are, requested Batman specifically.

"He is a hacker," Jim puts both his hands in the pockets of his coat — he is either cold or uncomfortable, and Bruce highly suspects it's both. What's more, he starts to understand why. "I'm sure you're aware we were trying to track the person responsible for the few recent cyber attacks on GCPD servers," Jim glances at him, and Bruce nods. He is aware, yes, but the case was low-priority — it wasn't even an attack, really, someone just accessed the system foregoing the passwords and clearance levels, went through a few files, seemingly at random, and did a fairly decent job of hiding their traces. Bruce would have even thought it was Tim, if this happened a few years ago, when the boy was just learning the ropes.

Commissioner sighs and looks away, "But when we brought him in, the boy said he will only speak to you, and none of us have been able to make him say a word since." He pauses, a grim kind of expression on his face, "This was six hours ago."

Bruce is grateful for the way his cowl hides how his eyebrows raise. There are hundreds of scripts officers, detectives, and social workers can use to establish contact. Quite a lot of them could be attempted in the span of six hours.

Whatever the kid wants to tell him, Bruce decides it's worth a try. If not anything else, he can at least admire the sheer stubbornness.

—×—×—×—

The kid sitting in the interrogation room looks... younger than Bruce expected. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. He is dressed like any other homeless kid in Gotham — a hoodie and a jacket over it, jeans that look a size too big on him, sneakers with mismatched shoelaces — but he clearly hasn't been out in the streets for that long. His hair is braided into cornrows, and it looks professional, even if the roots have grown out so now it's just messy. What's more, he is missing that telltale wariness in his posture that Bruce has seen in every other street kid that has been brought into a police station. They always slouch and curl into themselves.

This boy is sitting with his back straight. Yet, there's a tension in his body that Bruce can only associate with a battle stance — give him the slightest reason, and the kid will lunge.

He steps into the room.

The boy — he hadn't given a name, and there wasn't a single ID on him — zeroes on him instantly. His eyes are a very pale, almost translucent green: a rather strange feature for a black-skinned person, genetically speaking, but Bruce doesn't dwell on it. Yet.

But then, the face recognition program comes up empty.

As in, 'there's not a trace of this person's prior existence' empty. Not a single camera footage, no records or reports of missing, no pictures, no social media, nothing. Bruce frowns.

"Hi," the kid says, his voice raspy, "My name is Tucker Foley. According to the government, I don't exist, so if your recognition program doesn't find anything on me, that's why."

Bruce doesn't say anything. Tucker wanted to speak with him, and previously, he was only merely intrigued by that request. However, as of right now, he wants to hear everything the kid has to say before asking any follow-up questions.

Because that always present, cautious and bordering on paranoid voice in the back of his mind tells him he is about to get into something way more serious than he expected.

Tucker moves — he kept both his hands on the table, palms open and visible, but now he closes one into a fist. Although, before Bruce can react to it, he opens it again. A small, the size of a flash-drive, dimly glowing green object rests inside.

"Do you know what this is?" The boy asks. He hasn't looked away from Batman's face once; Bruce is not even sure he blinked at all since he entered the room. Come to think of it, even with his tense, rigid posture, Tucker is too still, almost unnervingly so.

Bruce glances down to the boy's hand.

"Yes," he answers curtly, and there it is, the smallest shift in Tucker's face: he clenches his jaw like he's trying to hold the words inside his mouth. Bruce doesn't like it.

"What is it?" Comes the next question, but it's not curiosity that prompts it. It's a test of some sort. Bruce likes that even less.

"A power source," he decides on a neutral answer, not entirely certain what the boy is expecting to hear.

It seems to be a wrong answer because for the first time, Tucker's emotions slip from under his mask, and he takes a sharp breath in, looking like Bruce had just slapped him across the face. It lasts only a moment — Tucker closes his eyes for a moment, slowly exhales, and speaks again, calm and focused once more.

"And what exactly powers it?"

It's an important question, judging by the desperate, searching look in Tucker's eyes. His hands are not shaking, and there are no visible signs of distress, but for some reason, Bruce just knows that the boy's whole life seems to depend on the answer.

But.

"It's classified." Bruce doesn't take his eyes off the boy, but he still fails to see when he gets to his feet; the movement is quicker than the blink of an eye. All he knows is the aftermath of it, the screech of the chair legs on the floor and the loud slam of Tucker's palms on the table.

"Fuck the classified!" The boy yells, his face twisting in an awful mix of anger, hurt and a broken, terrified sort of hopelessness that almost breaks Bruce from the inside. "I need to know what they've told you, I have to- Tell me you think it's just a battery! Tell me you've never broke one to see what's inside, tell me you believe in science! They've showed you the research, didn't they?" Tucker's voice, so agonizingly different from the composed way he was talking before, breaks into a sobbing, almost hysterical laugh. His pale eyes are wide open and almost panicked, searching Batman's face for something he is not sure he can find.

"Tell me you've never seen one being made," this time, the boy doesn't yell, he whispers, his breath hitching and his knuckles white. "Please," he adds a moment later, and Bruce knows this kind of plea.

It's the plea of someone who is begging for the world to have mercy on them. A plea of a boy standing on their parents' grave, a plea of a man kneeled in front of his son's corpse.

Bruce swallows the bitter taste on the back of his tongue and takes a step closer. He sees the boy in front of him lean back and bend his knees, like bracing for impact, but he answers before any more misunderstandings can occur.

"I have seen the research. It provided enough information that I've never investigated further," he offers, and Tucker's shoulders slump like months and months of living in a constant state of fight-or-flight leaving his body all at once. Then, the boy's hands start trembling just slightly.

"Really?" He quietly asks, his eyes still glued to Batman, and there it is, the hesitant, uncertain hint of hope in his voice.

Bruce suddenly feels like not only this talk will be much, much worse than he ever feared, but also like in the end this will be another one of the things he will be blaming himself for. Things he could have prevented if he just tried a little harder.

"Really," he nods, taking a seat opposite from Tucker. "So explain what I've missed."

The boy keeps looking at him for a few more seconds, like trying to x-ray his thoughts for any sign of a lie. But then he blinks — for the first time, maybe — and rubs his face with his palm before all but dropping back in his own seat.

"Okay," he breathes out, evidently trying to collect himself and go back to the strong, focused self, "Okay."

[ part 2 -> ]

[spark-circuit]

okay listen. i know there's already one video about The Fucking Creep out there. but i NEED to share one of my favourite Creep Moments.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Homestuck day!

(Timeskip version)

[akiiame-blog]

Mario is so pretty in Sparks of Hope I can never get over it

He and the rest of the gang are animated so beautifully, it's my favorite thing in the world

[truuskn]

miss the days when his main characteristic was being silly little guy

look at him! he should get arrested because he's breaking hearts with his cuteness!

they drew everything without much of a plan and thinking, how they managed to make all his smiles so shy and gentle?? just like they should be!! prowl, why are you so sweet

he's sooo 🤏🤲

[rotshi]

"You deserve better" Idk i felt like drawing some metadow cause they're neat !!! and i do like them !!!

[prismatoxic]

"chilchuck isn't a twink, he's a DILF!" now i get why you're saying that but i feel like you've maybe forgotten what chilchuck tims canonically looks like

i'm sorry but this man is a twink. also DILF isn't a body type it's a status (and technically, an opinion) so he can be both

"but he's middle-aged!" look at him. look with your eyeballs. his age has nothing to do with the fact that he Looks Like That. he's a twink. the sooner you accept this the less angry his fandom will make you

edit bc this post has become the bane of my existence:

FAQ

Q: wtf do you mean he's a dad? he looks like a kid. A: he is 29 years old, and a half-foot. half-foots are dungeon meshi's halflings, or hobbits, or whatever you want to call them.

Q: wait, if he's 29, why the fuck are you calling him middle-aged? A: half-foots have an average lifespan of 50 years. chilchuck was originally drawn with grey hairs (you can see that in the manga fullbody) but the mangaka gave up on that over time. he's middle-aged for his race.

Q: hey, doesn't that look like a little angry face on his boot in the manga drawing? A: yea kinda

[takaraphoenix]

"You need to be that Spark, Stiles."

[s0fter-sin]

everyone makes fun of soap when they find out how many hair and skin products he keeps on hand. the cabinet in his bathroom is filled to bursting and he always keeps travel sized bottles on him on missions

when soldiers outside the 141 find out, they call him precious and self-obsessed, a vain pretty boy too preoccupied with his reflection to focus on the enemy. no wonder how he got his callsign. price has given up telling him to leave them on base and just teaches him to individually wrap them so they don’t rattle against each other and give himself away

what they don’t know is that each product contains an ingredient that when mixed with any number of the others, creates potent chemical bombs. he was caught unarmed once, he won’t let it happen again

[laurellala-comics]

I finished watching a playthrough of the first Apollo Justice game WAAAAH NOBODY TALK TO ME I'M EMOTIONAL WAAAAAH THAT WAS SOOO SO EPIC AND GOOD. I'll draw nice things later, for now take these sillies

[eloscore]

ALL ABOARD THE CLOWN CAR HOONK HOOOONKKKK

[bigassbowlingballhead]

a general fandom problem is people expect the subject material to be more than it is. they want to believe this is the greatest piece of media ever created. this piece of media can do no wrong. this piece of media is going to change and fix everything wrong with them. When that's simply not the case for any major media. media is human created, so by it's very nature it is flawed. a single piece of media is never going to give you everything you want from it. expecting it to give you more and getting upset when it doesn't, i'm sorry that's your own fault. the sooner people come to this realization (they won't) the better fandom as a whole will be. you have to let the media simply be what it is. and what that is most of the time is a mid show that's consumed us. and that's okay. love that mid show for being mid. don't try to make it be more than it is.

[seldompathic]

If bro smiles through tears in episode 1 of S3 I'm gonna fold like a lawn chair

[surfacage]

??????????

[toaster-fire-art]

I've offically come full circle a decade later since I'm back hyperfixating on the Arthurian legend distracting myself from everything and listening to the same music as my 14 year old self was. But hey at least I have the confidence in drawing them now.

I love them so so dearly I'm going just a little insane, I'm sorry to everyone who doesn't know me beyond my usual fandoms, you have to put up with what rearranged my brain chemistry when I was a kid.

This started as just a few of the knights, Lancelot, Gawaine, and Galahad and then it became: "Oh but then I should draw __" and here we are. My designs are all over the place and I cannot be bothered to actually draw armor I'll die i just want to draw pretty patterns. But I think the mismatch of clothing styles and all that makes it cohesive?

And I'm going with Malroy and T.H White influence as it's what I know best, that being said all the boys have their coat of arms alluded to in some way but you might have to squint.

(my laptop absolutely hates me for this one. imagine exporting a file and then having to manipulate the sizing 3 times for it to even be able to upload anywhere, couldn't be me. I don't even know how to show the full thing..)