#guess who's back on their bullshit

[sophiegoose]

Giant!Miguel Character/AU notes

Howdy.

I return to the Spiderverse G/t tag with my other Big(tm) Miguel/AU.

I've workshopped this guy and the world he comes from quite a bit. I plan on writing a multi-part reader x fanfic about him at some point down the line, so he's gotten a lot of fleshing out and Lore(tm).

This will be closer to an actual character profile with some lore and storyline beats mixed in compared to my previous Sizeshifter!Miguel post.

Hope y'all enjoy. :>

Name: Miguel

Pronouns: He/Him or It/Its

Species: Giant

Age: 810 (roughly 30-35 in human years)

Height: 150 feet/45 meters (head and shoulders taller than most other giants)

Occupation: Alchemist and tapestry weaver. Previously an armorer, weaponsmith, and warlord.

Associated magical sphere: Spiders

Appearance: Miguel is a looming figure  with tan skin, which is covered from head to toe in scars. These scars range in size, shape, and depth, suggesting combat with a variety of beings over the course of his lifetime. He has a very buff body type, with broad shoulders and pronounced musculature.

He has sharp cheekbones and a square jaw, and piercing red eyes that glow with an eerie, dim light in the dark. Several more pinpricks of glowing red are arranged under each of his eyes, appearing to be additional eyes/light-sensing organs. These lack pupils and eyelids. His jaws are lined with sharp teeth, with elongated incisors. His toes and fingers have long, tapering claws, which have a straight edge and cannot be sheathed. He has medium length black hair, which is slightly curled and has interwoven hints of grey.

He wears a black shawl, consisting of numerous layers of sheer black fabric. This is woven over his body in several layers, creating a skintight bodysuit that covers his body at its innermost layer. The outer layers are woven into a black cloak that obscures most of his body and face from view.

This outfit is magical, and freely responds to Miguel's will. It wraps and unwraps, weaving and unweaving from his body, transforming into any garment he may need. It also acts as an extension of his personage:  any damage done to it felt by him. It can be unfurled into a large web that can entangle and snare foes, or weave around him tightly, forming a cocoon for protection, and anywhere in between.

Most days, Miguel wears this outfit in the form mourner's cloak, with a bodysuit wrapped around him underneath. He rarely lifts the hood of his cloak to show his face, with only his glowing eyes visible within. The fabric has a faint iridescent sheen.

Backstory:

Miguel is a giant, one of many magical creatures that call his world home. Giant society is somewhat separated from the rest of the world: most of their villages and cities are built atop banks of clouds, high above the world below.

Due to their lofty home and intimdiating size, giants tend not to mingle with other species, but there have been times where giant society has meddled with the lives of those below, for better or for worse.

Miguel was once a famed weaponsmith and warlord, waging battle under the sigil and banner of the Spider. He took part in a massive conflict that spanned centuries and multiple kingdoms, involving numerous species and innumerable casualties.

While the war initially broke out between small local factions for land and resources after a devastating natural disaster, it quickly devolved. It turned into a clash of kingdoms, political causes, and warring economies. As kings, feudal lords, rebels and outside warlords joined the fray, things got ever more tangled,  complicated, and bloody. As these groups forged alliances and lost their comrades one by one, they began to lose track of what it was the war had been started for and what they were fighting for other than vengeance. The carnage spanned across entire generations for some of the species involved, with humans bearing the brunt of casualties.

Things came to a head when the toll of war hit too close to home: Miguel's daughter was captured by a rival kingdom. The human ruler of said kingdom called for her execution in retaliation for Miguel's direct destruction of a town on the outskirts of their territory.

Miguel arrived just in time to see the life fade from his daughter's eyes.

Overcome with the pain of his daughter's death and wracked with guilt for having lost himself so deeply in the bloodlust of war, Miguel lost the will to fight. He retired from the warfront and became a shut-in.

He spends most of his days alone, now.

Residing in his secluded home on the outskirts of a floating city, he neighbors several other giants who once fought under his command. He doesn't socialize with them often, instead spending his time pursuing what little remains of joy in his life.

He weaves tapestries and clothing, creating elaborate pieces in an attempt to express his emotions, and making pieces in tribute to his daughter. Occasionally he'll take up commission work, creating decorative armor pieces or aid in repairing older pieces of his. He dislikes when people brings weapons into his home of any kind.

Many long centuries have passed since the war ended, and while to humans and other beings in the world below it is merely a legend, relegated to a footnote in history...

To Miguel it is still a crushing weight upon his life that is slowly suffocating him alive.

And so he weaves his tapestries, much as a spider would weave its web, and seeks penance and peace amongst the ruins of his life.

Personality:

Miguel is stern, well-spoken, and regal...but make no mistake, he is NOT as level-headed as he seems.

Neither his smooth voice nor flowery language can hide his animalistic tendencies, deeply held trauma, and barely-contained temper. He is quick to anger, jumpy at even the smallest of sounds, and filled with a deeply jaded rage towards the world, himself, and, most intensely, humans.

He has a deep contempt and hatred for humans, viewing them as lowly, vile creatures whose intelligence and craftiness is only ever used for personal gain and trickery. He once freely allied with and fought alongside humans, but  now views them as monsters, despite the obvious hypocrisy and misdirected rage of this sentiment. Should he ever find a human in his home there's no telling what he'd do...

That being said, he doesn't extend such violence and disdain to everyone.

He has maintained relationships with many of his former comrades, as well as friends and relatives...although his increasingly reclusive behavior worries them. He's fiercely loyal to those close to him, betraying a softer side he prefers to keep hidden, concerned for their safety and worried he may lose another person he holds close. He rarely admits to or shows this vulnerability: he doesn't want to appear weak, nor have others take advantage of that weakness. He can't take any more pain than what is already upon his shoulders. Not again.

As such, he remains focused on his work and the solitude of his home, rarely letting anyone in, both physically and emotionally.

Powers/Abilities:

-Sphere of the Spider:

Giants are inherently magical beings. Their massive forms exist thanks to the powerful magic that flows in their veins, and they're more susceptible to magical attacks and spells than most other species. Deeply intuned with the flow of magical energy that moves through all things, giants take on a sphere/focus of interest to better hone and utilize their magical aptitude.

Some choose a particular profession, such as farming, smithing, book-binding and so on and apply their inherent magical skill to these pursuits. Other times, a sphere of magic will chose a giant to take it on.

Miguel was approached by the spirit of spiders herself, who granted him great power in exchange for spreading her sigil far and wide. He accepted...

But her blessing was a double-edged sword.

While she greatly sharpened his senses, gave him immense strength and agility, and honed his already exceptional skills in alchemy and weaving to a fine edge, he suffered many side-effects. While the growth of his extra eyes, his fangs, his claws, and the sharp increase in his senses were tolerable, other changes were not so easy to adapt to.

Extremely sensitive to light and vibration, Miguel is uncomfortable in direct sunlight and dislikes loud noise and music. He has also developed a visceral dislike for birds, and motifs for them are associated with death in his artistic works.

He is most active at night, something that clashes with the sunshine-loving norm of giant society, and his animalistic nature does startle even his fellow giants at times. Miguel is, however, overall grateful for his connection to this particular sphere of magic. He feels it suits him.

-Weaving/Alchemy:

While Miguel does not produce his own silk, his arachnid powers do lend well to the art of weaving and alchemy.

Miguel can weave with traditional materials, such as cloth, string, and rope, but he is also able to magically weave with other materials. He can change the alchemical properties of any material he touches, allowing him to spool it out into thread that he then weave into the item he's working on.

For example, Miguel's weaponsmithing process is different than any other in the world. He starts with the materials he intends to use for a piece, then thinly spools them out into thread, tempering the metal with alchemy. He then weaves these metallic threads into intricate patterns as he slowly but surely assembles a weapon of immense durability and sharpness, one strand at a time.

His weapons are renowned for their sturdiness and unique aesthetics, with a very distinct organic, woven style that makes them easy to spot. His textiles are also in high demand, as they are easily enchanted and are resistant to fraying or tearing. His tapestries are said to glisten with threads made from traditionally unheard-of materials, with strands made of alchemically-altered diamond, platinum, stone, wood, and more.

His pieces are highly sought after, but his clientele know that he's not easy to hunt down and get a commission slot. He is a grumpy, morose recluse, and that doesn't seem like it'll be changing any time soon.

Additional notes/info:

-Miguel is pansexual, panromantic, and polyamorous (though he's not been active in the dating scene for quite some time). He currently has no partners.

-Miguel's home is a looming, brutalist structure formed from stone. Inside there are several support pillars and rafter-like beams that he freely leaps between and crawls along. Any visitor better be ready to climb to reach most of the rooms inside.

-His home has a garden at its center, with a ceiling of enchanted glass that captures and casts down sunlight in glimmering colors. It is filled with plants from both the surface world and giant lands, with tangles of fruit trees and grape vines growing in the gaps between the shadows of massive trees native to giant lands. The entire garden is encircled and criss-crossed by an artificial spring, which is filled with rainwater from the bank of clouds Miguel's home is built on. He often harvests fruit from his garden for his meals.

-Housed in at the center of this garden, resting in its own custom-made pond, is the last remnant Miguel has of his daughter: a goose, crudely carved from gold. This enchanted object was sculpted and brought to life by his daughter through alchemy. Although an amateur work by the standards of most alchemists, it was deeply precious to her. This goose can eat any metal, and will take what it is fed and alchemize it into eggs made of solid gold. This goose is very precious to Miguel, and he pampers it as a pet, spoiling it rotten with hand-carved foliage made of different, high-value metals, and dotes on it daily.

-Whether he admits it or not, he has a soft spot for children, and is often a babysitter for his extended family and group of friends. He's particularly fond of the child of his former battle comrades Peter and MJ, and treats their daughter, Mayday, as if she was his own. He'd kill the very gods for her.

[ourladyoflazarus]

sara: portions for foxes (rilo kiley) / would you be so kind (dodie) / scared (delta rae) / no light, no light (florence + the machine) / gravity (sara bareilles) / poison & wine (the civil wars)

august: it will come back (hozier) / the girl (city and colour) / this tornado loves you (neko case) / where does the good go (tegan and sara) / putting the dog to sleep (the antlers) / the night we met (lord huron)

[miserablecreachur]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: All Elite Wrestling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega/"Hangman" Adam Page Characters: Ibushi Kota, Kenny Omega, "Hangman" Adam Page Additional Tags: Kayfabe RPF, Hotel Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Threesome - M/M/M Summary:

It was then that Kenny came to sit down across from them, holding a phone that Adam could only assume was Kota’s as the case wasn’t his or Kenny’s… And Kota’s hand landed on his knee, fingers lightly clutching at the inside of his thigh. Almost immediately, Adam felt his head swimming. He had thought of this, or rather moments that could have been this, since his days in New Japan. His eyes stayed locked on Kota’s, and after a moment he realized that Kenny was speaking.

“- with you.”

“Sorry.” With some effort, Adam would drag his eyes from Kota’s face to Kenny’s, shaking his head lightly in hopes of clearing it. “I uh, missed that.”

Kenny was grinning, and he would hold up the phone, tilting it onto its side in his hands. “Ibutan wants a picture with you.”

[holly-fixation]

A Divine Plan

Summary: Sephiroth, after his Remnants failed, pulled himself back through the lifestream for one more attempt at dragging Cloud to his knees. By accident, in his search for something desperate and weak, he pulled out two: the blonde just after experimentation began, and himself as he began reading the false truths below Shinra manor. With these two captured, he couldn’t help but wonder ‘why rule the universe as just one god?’ Why not break his former self into something useful for him and Mother while slowly torturing the boy?

The better question: why not? 

Inspired by @altocat and @errantnight in this post. (Warning: The post spoils everything once you get to the second reblog)

…

Time ticked slowly through drops of watery liquid nearby, leaking down to a small pool of itself on the ground of a chamber with the stench of radiation. The electric hum stung their ears as the two inside achingly awoke, their minds throbbing in lingering pain. They both squinted against the unnatural light as their eyes tried to focus on their surroundings. Their completely new surroundings. 

Snake-like eyes adjusted faster than human ones. His sky blue orbs perfectly mirrored the bright blue lights of the chamber, finally allowing him to take in the terrain as he stiffened in defense. Where was he? What captured him? How? He called upon his last memory for an answer, but all he could find was the sight of the spiral stairs in Shinra Manor. The steps that lead to his truth, according to his former best friend. His rotting best friend, who deserved to suffer to the end of degradation. Even if, truly, he wished he could save him. 

That didn’t matter now. He tried to locate where he was. The large ceiling, deep floors, and smell of mako told him his current location: a mako reactor. The metal supports in the symmetrical room reached the ceiling. What was once a door was sealed shut by some kind of purple magic he did not recognize at a glance. A red tube on the ground led to a broken tank of glass, only the remaining sludge inside signifying anything remained there in the first place. He followed the red tube for any indication of his current location when he found a stone plaque, and the name carved on it:

J E N O V A

His breath caught. Why was he back here? What. Happened? He stood up to survey the area, and he felt something tug at his wrists. Thousands of strands as green as mako wove and twisted together around his wrists as shackles and chains. He tried to pull them off carefully at first, but they did not budge in the slightest. He pushed harder, crushed the links in his grip, pulled them apart, but all attempts failed. He reached for his sword, but he found his sheath empty and he almost growled in silent anger and frustration. Then he heard panicked shuffling from behind him and snapped to its direction.

The blonde cadet, the boy so shy he hid his face under his helmet the moment they entered his hometown, watched at him with panicked breaths, backing away slowly and clinking the magical chains as they adjusted. His wobbly legs struggled to hold his body up, his skin pale and sickly. But the boy’s biggest change was the mako lining his irises joined by the mako dripping from his clothes. 

Sephiroth took a single slow step towards him, to analyze, to understand, but he jumped back instantly. 

“Y-you’re dead…” the boy spat with venom, his voice raspy and struggling, yet silver brows only knotted in complete confusion. “You bastard…” 

He expected this kind of talk from a Wutaian, threats and curses, but even they would not believe he died. “Dead…?” The single word housed so many questions. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t remember…” he growled. 

But he didn’t. He didn’t remember at all. 

“You know what you did-!” His anger spiked and his head throbbed, forcing him quiet with an involuntary groan. He slid down the nearest support as his knees buckled.

Sephiroth tried to identify the problem, but besides some sudden muscle loss and maybe dehydration, the boy had no visible injuries. His cadet uniform was damaged but scar tissue already formed through the hole and slashes along his chest. Still, he kept his distance. “Are you alright…?” He asked softly once he accepted none of his attempts succeeded in identifying the boy’s actual problem.

The blonde hissed in a combination of phantom pain and his misdirected anger, cringing and cowering on the ground while still shooting daggers at the older man. 

Then it finally dawned on Sephiroth. The boy was absolutely terrified of him, but he had no idea why. 

The silver soldier stepped away to allow the boy a slight moment of reprieve and to survey the area as much as possible. The chains were long, perhaps twenty feet from their mounts along the wall. The wall bled with the same green woven threads down the surface and clearly through the floor. That didn’t bode well. He approached the wall and noticed the much thinner layer of green. Perhaps there was a chance. He glanced at the boy and gave a silent look of apology before curling his fist and bashing it into the wall.

The boy flinched and kept his eyes locked on the black gloved left hand.

He struck again. 

And again.

And again.

Yet the green threads stayed completely rigid, even as the wall buckled, dented, and splintered. Fragments of metal slipped off his gloves as he pulled back. He couldn’t break them free. He couldn’t break them free. What in all the gods captured them? How did it have this indestructible material? He gave the slightest exhale before glancing at the blonde, who only grew more afraid at the repeated action. However, once he joined the cadet on the floor, with plenty of space in between them, the boy finally relaxed a bit of the extreme tension. 

They sat in absolute silence. Sephiroth scanned for any weakness he could exploit to escape from this place, absentmindedly grazing his thumb over the opening of his empty scabbard. The cadet calmed slightly and lightly tugged on his chains. They didn’t sound like metal or glass. He had no idea what they could be made of.

They only sat for a few minutes, the last drops of the blonde’s mako soaked clothing drying as more and more time passed between each drip, before something finally changed. A ball of white light quickly appeared and grew like a flash bomb, but there was no noise as the two prisoners winced against the brightness. It dimmed in only a few seconds, but what it left behind was…

It was…

…what…?

Sephiroth’s eyes weren’t deceiving him. The person standing before them was himself. 

His eyes stared back at him through dark bags of ruined sleep, glowing with more mako than the sea of radiation below them. His body stood before him with ghost white skin and perfect posture. His hair reflected the blue lights of the chamber like broken mirrors, frayed and unkept ends splitting from lesser care.

It was him. But every slight difference screamed in his mind. He wasn’t him. He was an enemy. 

The doppelganger wore a malicious grin at first, scanning them both, before lessening it to a taunting smirk. 

Neither Sephiroth nor the boy had any idea what this man was planning. 

Wait, the boy. He dared glance away from his own dark eyes for only a second to assess the cadet’s reaction.

The blonde’s eyes were wide like he truly did see a ghost. His eyebrows raised with absolute fear as his newly mako-blue irises stared at the new silver soldier. Before, he cowered. Now, he trembled, a mix of pure rage and utter despair pulsed through his body as he crossed his arms tightly to protect the center of his chest. Whatever the boy felt for him moments ago skyrocketed at the sight of the double. He met the chained one’s eyes for a split second, and in that moment, Sephiroth saw slightest desperation within the anger before they snapped back to the silent threat in front of them.

Sephiroth carefully moved across the floor with his snake-like eyes staring into their mirror. Without a word, he stood in front of the boy with an arm extended in protection. 

Now interest appeared on the doppel’s face. “Did you tell him?” He asked, his voice nearly identical, only a hint of something…unstable, an amused lilt filled with poison. 

The boy pushed further against the wall in a pathetic attempt to hide.

“Did you tell him what happened?” It cocked its head to the side, the two questions alone stirring sadistic satisfaction in his veins. “Cloud.”

The cadet rapidly shook his head, his entire body shaking.

The silver soldier was stunned to silence by the simple questions housing so much meaning, the answers hidden inside a young cadet.

“Tell him,” The shadow commanded, snake-like eyes burning into the boy. “Tell him what you did.”

The tone knocked him out of his shock. He took a quick breath and refused to let the cadet obey. “What are you?”

The amusement only grew on its face. “I’m you,” He stated simply. “Yet you are still a child soldier following orders, while I am a god on the verge of claiming this planet with Mother at my side.”

Cloud choked on his breath while Sephiroth stared in confusion. 

“My mother…” He tried to complete his sentence, but-

Poor little Sephiroth…

You never actually met your mother.

You’ve only been told her name, no?

He winced. 

She’s a monster.

She’s a Monster.

She’s a MONSTER.

“Mother is a godsend.” The doppelganger countered his memories. “And Mother will teach you to rule planets. When you are ready.”

Confusion flashed on his face again.

Another glare of snake-like eyes, but now it approached. “Tell him, Cloud. Tell him what you did.”

The cadet couldn't stop shaking, yet he did not answer. 

Sephiroth, again, stood his ground. 

The dark copy chuckled at the attempt, then laughed loudly when he hardened his gaze. “Do you think you can stop me?”

He did not answer, and the double clutched his face by his chin and pulled him down ever so slightly.

It analyzed him deeply. 

Through the grab alone, Sephiroth felt its strength, but he still threw a single punch. 

It caught his hand easily, as if swatting away a fly. “I cannot believe such a foolish child held my memories and reason for so long.” It let him go, completely unconcerned, and again Sephiroth stood in shock.

His entire life he was trained to fight and kill efficiently. Yet this thing before him held so much more power, battle was useless, just as it was in the training rooms with Hojo refusing to turn off the mechanical enemy approaching him. His focus struggled through the tides of confusion and the instinct to protect his comrade- The boy-

The doppelganger leaned down and grabbed Cloud's chin, forcing his eyes to meet its beautiful grin. “Tell him what you did to me,” it commanded so calmly yet with the sun’s intensity, completely countering its posture and actions. 

The boy stuttered, trying to hide his knowledge as he looked between the two silver soldiers desperately, silently begging one to stop and one for protection. “I-I…”

It slowly, gently, placed a hand on the cadet’s shoulder, but with each moment the boy’s face twisted further in pain as it tightened in punishment for the passing hesitation. 

Sephiroth snapped back into action but before he could attack-

“I killed you!” Cloud shouted in fear and pain, his voice echoing through the walls of the chamber. “I killed you!” He glanced at the tube to the empty tank. “I-I stabbed you there… And then… you…” 

“Leave the cadet alone,” Sephiroth growled, grabbing the arm of the thing that captured them. 

To their surprise, it actually stepped back, but the unsettling amusement in its eyes terrified them. “Fine.” It turned to the blonde. “You have one hour to explain everything you know. If even a single detail is gone, I will beat you within an inch of your life.” 

With that, it disappeared into another silent flash. 

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

[idiosyncatsy]

*distant sounds of thaumaturgy crimes*

[dangleboots]

Acceptance doesn't mean forgetting, is what I'm finding out. I'm plagued by dreams of her nightly, seeing her over and over again but never being able to fix anything. Never being able to stay in that moment. They're not nightmares anymore, or at least not scary ones. But in my dreams I'll be happy to see her until a creeping sense of "you can't have this" takes over. I know it's fleeting, even if I don't know it's a dream.

Tons of stuff still reminds me of her. Figuring things out didn't magically make it all go away. I understand and acknowledge that us breaking up was for the best, even if it didn't end all that well. I wasn't perfect during the relationship, I made my fair share of mistakes. Especially in the end. But I've learned a great deal, and have fond memories to look back on regardless. There was good in all of that. A lot of good.

I think it's okay that I still think of her. I loved her after all- no matter how many lightbulb moments you have, that doesn't just go away. But I shouldn't still want her. I know in my brain that she's gone, and probably moved on. My heart just hasn't gotten the memo.

I've logic-ed it all out- figured out where each of us went wrong and realized the breakup was for the best. That should be the end of it. I figured it out, the puzzle is solved, logically I shouldn't still be hung up on her. I've learned how to do better for next time- there's nothing left to gain from dwelling on it. It makes no sense for me to think of her or our relationship anymore. I've taken all I can from it. It's time to put the past behind me and move on.

But feelings aren't that easy. I can whip out the mental PowerPoint presentation all I want, explain to myself over and over again how what I'm doing isn't what's best for me. And yet no matter how many times I do that, I still miss her. I still want her back in my life. I can't be doing that. She's not coming back. I know it, you know it, she knows it, even your great aunt Gertrude knows it. It is written as plain as day that what we had is over and I'm never getting it back.

So why? Why do I still hope? Why do I still yearn? Logically, by definition, what I miss are the happy chemicals she gave me. At its core, that's all a relationship is. My brain wants those happy chemicals back, so it makes me miss her. Boom, cracked the code. That should be the end of it.

And yet it's not, and it makes no goddamn sense. I know that feelings don't really adhere to sense, that's kinda how they work, but still! It's like I accept the breakup, but my heart won't let me accept losing her. Which shouldn't be how that works! I did all the stuff I was supposed to do! I finally fuckin' processed it all, in a healthy way might I add, and then learned from it! That's all I can do, short of actively trying to get her back, which I most certainly should not do.

But I want to. I want to reach out. I want to talk to her again. I want her in my life again. I want to see her again. I want to date her again. Again, again, again. It's all I say at this point. My choice of language alone proves I know it's over, that she's in the past tense. So why can't I just. move. on.

I did all the grief stuff. I processed everything. I learned all the lessons I could from what happened. I vented all of my feelings in a healthy and constructive manner. I know, logically, that I will never hear from her again. I've checked all of the boxes, I'm "finished", so to speak.

I still love her, though. I think that's the problem here. I'm still attached to her, and to move on I need to cut all the attachments I have left to her. I need to carve her out of my heart, send that piece off to live with her forevermore, and heal what was lost.

I tried to do that, when I wasn't processing things. Because I knew that was the logical course. I knew that's what I needed to truly move on.

And yet I undid it. I opened the door back up, because the piece of my heart that belongs to her never really stopped beating and it was getting louder.

I should just consider this a "moment of weakness" and re-block her. Remove any possibility of her contacting me so I simply can't hope for it anymore. The solution to my problems is right in front of me, just a few clicks away.

But I haven't done it. And I won't.

[lilcreaturethingfromthewoods]

*extremely slutty sounds of slurping up summer fruit*

[burning-quesadilla]

Wally: I need life advice.  Dick, sipping Gatorade and eating cookie dough: You came to the right person.

[bonchobrick]

DCxDP Fic where the Batfam gets an item/ability which allows them for just that day, to temporarily be able to what someone best accomplishment(s) were in their lives. Little do they know Danny has just settled into their city (and that they were about to get the shock of their lives)

---

At first the Batfam decides to have fun with it--theres not much titles can do to help them with cases unless theyre particularly lucky. So they take a walk together in disguises to observe the passerbyers, curious of what civillains of gotham have done in their lives.

One gruff guy who grumbles shoving Bruce's shoulder as he walks by has the title 'KITTY SAVIOR' adorned above him and the batfam are greeted by the knowledge he had saved a cat from getting hit by a car

A kid in his pteens whose been shoving pamphlets into peoples hands has 'ADVERTISEMENT SUPERSTAR' above his head as he apparently managed to save his family's resturant with his intense marketing prowess (remind Bruce to try hiring him in the future.)

And lastly they faux browse a store trying to scope out someone else interesting and are greeted by the title... 'OPENER OF PICKLE JAR' and they decide to head home as Jason nearly crying trying to muffle his laughter.

At the manor they all cant help but agree, walking has made them hungry, and theres no harm ordering a pizza or two. It's been a long, mildly interesting day, though they weren't expecting much from thing ability.

Imagine their surprise when they open the door to see a black haired blue eyed child, pizza boxes in one hand, the other hand out awaiting a drop of money–completely missing the fact the title 'DEFEATED THE MAD KING WHO HAS TORMENTED THE AFTERLIFE FOR EONS' was placed innocently above his head

"Your total is 23.11!" The fucking 'Ghost King' kid (APPARENTLY) cheerily states????

"Uh," Bruce says blankly staring at this kid's title as his mouth blurts out, "Could you give us a second?"

[aishabellasbigblogofeverything]

I love it when women hate men. I love it when women are allowed to vent to each other about how horrible and creepy men are. I love it when women form friendships with and prioritize each other over relationships with men(whether they're attracted to them or not). I love it when women put men dni in their bios and on their nude photos and on posts on their blogs. I love it when women refuse to mollycoddle and accommodate entitled male feelings with "but this doesn't mean I hate all men, I know a few men who are great, I love my father/sons/brothers/uncles/male cousins/guy friends" I love it when women complain about men WITHOUT "not all men" being a disclaimer. I love it when women avoid socializing with/refuse to be around/befriend/get close to men because they know men can't be trusted. I love it when women make "kill all men" jokes. I love it when women offer absolutely no concern or care for men's feelings and if their misandry offends men whatsoever because why should we, men are the oppressor class who have raped and killed and abused us and kept us as subjugated as second-class citizens for millennia, they regularly mistreat us and the women in their own marginalized communities still every single day and make this world so much harder and more awful for us to be in, and if we choose to hate them and not spare them any sympathy then so be it, and I don't just mean "men as a class" either, you can be a woman who doesn't want to have anything to do with any man on an individual basis and completely cuts off men from her personal life too and ykw I will love and fucking support you in that because men deserve absolutely NOTHING from us. If they're so tough and strong then they can handle it just like they can handle being lonely. If you are a woman who hates men, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A LESBIAN AND/OR A TRANS WOMAN, then just know that I love you. I love you, I support you, and you are safe here.

[laurellance]

piper and prue halliwell in 2.10

[clockwork-krow]

I've been thinking a lot about Kai and Morro again, and specifically their parallels (dangerous thing, I know) and I just really wanted to ramble about what I've taken to calling the inferno of destiny parallel.

As a beginner ninja, both Morro and Kai dealt with arrogance, recklessness, and anger. We see this in how Morro took extremely dangerous risks to get Wu to save him, with how he assumed he was to be the green ninja when Wu told him he believed Morro was to wear green, and how Morro reacted when the weapons didn't react to him (ripping off the sliding door). We see this in how younger Kai jumps into situations without a genuine plan, how he gets angry and often (literally) explodes with fire when something frustrates him, and how he kind of defaults to the coolest person on the team/the hot one/the center of attention/etc when that's just really the immature persona he's thrown up to try and be the best.

Both Morro and Kai want to be the best at what they can do, and when they heard about a chance to be even better than their original concepts of the best (becoming the Green Ninja), both of them jumped at it.

Morro trained so hard he ended up hurting the kids he was training against and worrying Wu

Kai tried so hard to be the green ninja he ended up placing unnecessary strain on his relationships and even went so far as to risk letting people get hurt/die because he was prioritizing what he thought might get him closer to being the Green Ninja (a competitive line of thinking that Kai's been known to buy into in addition to his constant needs to try to be the best in the situation before he matures) (btw I'm talking about him originally trying to get the fang blade instead of. yknow. the CHILD about to burn lol.)

So, where do we see the shift from heroic to villanous in these two suspiciously similar characters? Well, it's when both of them are placed in an inferno scenario where they have to choose between pursuing their perceived destiny and their true destiny; hence, the inferno of destiny parallel.

Morro

When Morro searches so long to try and find a way to become the Legendary Green Ninja and rewrite destiny, he eventually finds himself in the Caves of Despair. We don't have the details of what happened, but we see the ninja try to escape Morro's fate in season 5 episode 7 titled "The Crooked Path". Here we see them encounter geysers that are releasing poisonous gases at an alarming rate, and they also spray boiling water/steam out in addition to rising the temperature to an unbearable level in the cave. It's reasonable to assume that Morro experienced a cave-in due to the caves' lack of structural integrity (also experienced by the ninja)* and then was killed either from burns from the hot steam and/or due to inhaling too much of the dangerous gasses.

The point of Morro's inferno: Morro couldn't accept the fact that he was not destined to be the Green Ninja, so he wasn't willing to turn away from his perceived destiny to save his own life. He wouldn't leave the cave because he couldn't let go of the fact that his perceived destiny wasn't his true destiny.

Kai

When Kai trains and practices to become the Green Ninja, making rash decisions (like jumping down for the Fang Blade again) and reckless choices that hurt his relationships (like barricading himself into a room to fight Garmadon for… literally no reason other than his desire to be the Green Ninja), he eventually finds himself in a similar inferno: The Fire Temple. An ancient temple constructed inside a volcano that once held the Sword of Fire, this is where the fourth and final Fang Blade is located and where the ninja must fight against Pythor and the other Serpentine generals for it. The volcano begins to erupt and collapse in on itself, and Kai ends up with a choice: save young Lloyd from his inevitable death in the erupting volcano, or try to reach the Fang Blade before it ends up in the hands of Pythor. This is the critical moment* for Kai, as he has to choose between his percieved destiny (becoming the Green Ninja and getting the Fang Blade) or his true destiny (protecting Lloyd in the hopes of saving both of their lives). In the end, he chooses to give up the thing he'd been working towards for most likely months now to try and be the best in the favor of saving a kid that used to be a massive pain in the ass (no offense, little Lloyd).

The point of Kai's inferno: Kai gave up his perceived destiny in the end, and only then was he able to unlock his True Potential in addition to being able to escape the Fire Temple safely with Lloyd and himself still alive. He was able to save himself and Lloyd because he gave up something that had felt like such a core part of his being, that he believed was his destiny, even though it turned out not to be.

He even says this himself to Sensei Wu: "I knew when I had to make a choice. I wanted the Fangblade so badly, to prove I was good enough to become the Green Ninja. But then I figured it out. All of my training to become the best ninja wasn't in preparation to become the Green Ninja. It was… to protect him." (s1e10, titled "The Green Ninja")

Kai and Morro both experience infernos that threaten their lives and rely on their ability to relinquish their percieved goals in favor of the objectively best choice in the moment. Morro was unable to give up what he truly believed was his destiny, and he ended up dead and sent to the Cursed Realm as a result. Kai was able to give up what he had been working towards for so long, and was able to save his life and Lloyd's life (especially entertaining when you remember that Kai had to give up trying to be the Green Ninja to… save the Green Ninja, lmao)

The critical moment I noted with a * for both Kai and Morro is that this point is the moment where each of them have to decide what's more important to them: what they believe is their destiny, or what would save their life. Morro tried to push through to his "destiny" and became too hurt or sick from the fumes to escape, and eventually died there. Kai gave up his "destiny" and just barely managed to escape with his life and Lloyd's.

So yes, I love the inferno of destiny parallel quite a bit! All three of these characters are very near and dear to my heart and they're rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken lmao

[pondslime]

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981)  dir. John Landis

[themanlykittenkayden]

Me, going through some messed up life stuff and hitting the worst depression/anxiety slump I’ve experienced in years: Let the universe hear my plea, will I ever experience happiness and whimsy again?

The Stanley Parable: Hey kid, you want 8 minutes of new content??

[tenderlady]

George and John in Paris, 1964 | Joan of Arc, Peter Paul Rubens | The Joan of Arc Wikipedia page | The Ballad of John & Yoko | Fans showing support for John after the "Bigger Than Jesus" scandal | Joan of Arc at the Coronation of Charles VII, Ingres

[shakespecre]

to make you think of me the same way i think of you