#tw length

Due to the large lack of common sense, it seems many in the fandom enjoy infantalizing Ahsoka Tano as if she were a child or placing her on a pedestal to be protected or revered as some ideal female jedi icon. Firstly, any romance that’s developed on this blog in regards to Ahsoka is 1. likely between my close-knit friends and 2. Well AFTER season 3 max. (that it even needs to be clarified no one’s shipping ahsoka as a kid sweet jesus).

It’s fine to ship Anakin with Padme despite their age gap--but it becomes a HORROR when its Ahsoka and Rex or any other Clone for that matter. It’s fine when it’s Kenobi and Cody despite both the implication to an abuse of station, authority and bigger age gap, but its more DISGUSTING when it’s Ahsoka and just about anyone else. Let’s not even TOUCH the topic of clonescest and shipping actual children like OMEGA. Cuz its fine to imagine kids canoodling but heaven forbid Ahsoka as a grown woman in a relationship with Rex or fuckin’ Din Djarin or, hell, even Boba.

Ahsoka Tano is a wonderfully nuanced, flawed and headstrong female character. She’s made mistakes, she’s GROWN UP literally in the midst of a war and SURVIVED unspeakable tragedies. Why is it so hard to believe that if she’s involved with someone, clone or former friend, WHOMEVER really, it’s such a huge controversial issue? Let her love. Let her make mistakes again. Let her grow.

She’s not a child anymore and deadass, coming from a culture where girls started exploring sex at 15--there’s a lot that could be done and expressed but blessedly Ahsoka got a good head on her shoulders. Lets not pretend teenager’s aren’t curious and haven’t done shit on the sly--we all be slipping and doing things we weren’t supposed to as teenagers and ain’t no shame in that. Anakin had just barely turned 19 when he started canoodling Padme, and don’t give me the ‘she’s a child’ bullshit cuz Ahsoka’s matured faster than any average 16+ teenager we’ve seen in media.

Ya’ll are hypocrites. The most amusing kind of hypocrites that love to snicker and vague and talk shit about Ahsoka shippers while pretending ya’ll don’t have your less than reasonable and FREAKIER ships. Like Kenobi x Anakin or Luke x Leia, Omega x Hera and god knows whatever mesh of character’s ya’ll shove in a room together. It’s so funny how most of you insist on being so woke, and pretentious but believe any of us here on board should be violently hit or are referred to as mentally ill or needing death. Really woke and compassionate stuff guys.

If we don’t JUDGE ya’ll ships, then don’t mind ours. It’s easy enough to point the finger at someone and forget there’s three pointing back at ya’ll. So we’ll ship what we want, however we want without judgement and go back to our usual fun times. If you don’t like it, put on your big girl/boy panties and hit the unfollow and block. Easy peasy my dears.

IT’S  ALL  ABOUT  THE  YEARNING  -- @hefalls

Lucifer was everything, beautiful and proud and radiant, oh so radiant that it hurt her eyes and heart to look upon him. He was the chosen favorite of the heavens, destined to watch over them all and man, perfected by their creator and borne to lead and rule.

She fought hard, aspired to be like him. He was the best of them all. How could she compare? It did not deter her, it strengthened her resolve. Her wish and will to be near him, and give him support. 

He had laughed when they were younger, shoulders not yet wide and strong enough to endure the weight of heaven’s crown. She treasured that sound, held it like a cherished secret as she sought precious moments between lessons. The garden was their favorite place, where they’d speak of their dreams and ambitions.

Time is but a heartbeat, constant and quick, sweeping away each moment until he grew quieter and his gaze more severe. She fought and trained, and she saw less and less of the garden and his smile. Mikha’el gained her name from the whispers of flames and her gift to bend the light, her righteous spirit.

He called her name, and she reached for him until he caught her hands. Tension was high, the rift between man and divine had blurred. Chaos and disorder threatened the domain, and it terrified her. It hurt her. The creator was angry. War was imminent, and new laws were being forged into place. They could not be seen being so close.

❝ We can not be as we were. ❞

It was a warning. A pleading and prayer from her lips. Lucifer’s hold tightened, his gaze dark and foreboding, drawing her closer as his wings blanketed over them both.

❝  i don’t feel like a whole person without you anymore.  i don’t fucking care if anyone else would say about that.  you’re part of who i am now.  the most important piece of me.  ❞

His words were like an arrow through her heart. Fierce and swift, breaking through the wall she’d been building between them, only for him to tear it down. A cold chill shot down her spine, causing her feathers to bristle.❝ You can’t--You can’t choose me. ❞ Oh by the heaven’s and the cosmos, she could feel her eyes brim with tears. ❝ You will be punished for such words! Everything is being torn apart, we need you here to bring order--to restore and guide the lost--❞

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and though she wanted to push him away, her hands clung to his robes. His hands swept through her hair, framing her face as he kissed away her tears. It was like as if he were kissing away her growing sins, baptizing her anew--it only made her heart heavier.

Moving out to the veranda, a delicate hand settled against the ivory balcony. The glass of wine she held earlier empty and catching at the moonlight rays from the faint drops remaining inside. Kaguya enjoyed the cool night’s breeze, not caring how it swept through her dark hair with intimate familiarity or swept over some of the more exposed areas of her gown. 

        She’d donned a golden gown with black and silver silken, elaborate patterns that flowed over her figure. One of her handmaiden’s had insisted she wore simpler jewelry, a thin bracelet dangling from her wrist, and more elaborate silver chain kept to hanging around her neck to draw attention to the v-cut hemline of her chest.

Behind her, she can hear the sound of the ballroom music and gossiping chatter, where no doubt many were slyly exchanging deals or plotting deaths--well, some more then others. Catching the sound of footsteps and the dolling scent of an overly-cologned man, who laughed boisterously and dared to sweep by her side. Face flushed by obvious alcohol, the man crooned, ❝ My dear, if you wanted a moment alone you could have simple said so.❞ 

She raised a fan, using it as a barrier between them and easily stepping back with a click of her heel. ❝ My lord, when a woman says she needs a moment of fresh air, that translates to her wishing to be alone. ❞ She turned her head slightly, hiding the roll of her eyes but thankfully she kept her smile in place, voice clipped. ❝ I’m sure there are many a young woman about that you may waltz into a stupor.  ❞

Waving him off, she watched the man return inside and sighed, rubbing her forehead gently. She wanted to curse her luck this night, one of the attendee’s she’d been expecting did not appear and the information the item she’d hoped they carried--a tome, now lost if it was even successfully retrieved. Re-adjusting her shawl, she heard steps approaching her again and by the old gods-- ❝ My lord this is a final warning-- ❞ Dark eyes glinting, she turned and raised the glass of her half-finished wine. Whirling on her heel, dark waves swayed over the curve of her shoulder. 

He didn’t really have a haunt now that he was back home. All of his old hangouts had been in the Outskirts, or at Willow’s, back when these streets had been his old stomping ground. Now Caden just kind of… lurked. Downtown’s bars were decent and there was something resembling a nightlife if you knew where to look. It just all felt so distant, like the memories he had here belonged to someone else, someone not around anymore to feel their warmth and familiarity. 

In a lot of ways that was right on the money. Those memories, that person, they belonged to a version of Cade that he had to let die. Life made sure of that. The punches kept coming and, hit after hit, blow after blow, he’d had to shed the old skin and put on something new, tougher. He wasn’t who he used to be, and who he was now needed a new haunt.

Punching in the alarm code, Cade waited until the home security system blinked green before he opened the front door and locked it behind him. He was going to swing by the Blue Heron before dropping in on the nearby tattoo parlor, the next target in his crosshairs on this never ending job hunt. He’d gotten a callback from that auto detailing place, but Cade always had a Plan B. Always.

A puddle splashed beneath his boot as he stepped out of the squat building he now called home. As he started across the street to where his truck was parked, Cade’s brows furrowed when a familiar scent snuck into his lungs. He paused mid stride, nearly knocking into the umbrella doting pedestrian whose path he’d stopped in. An absent apology left his lips as he breathed through his nose, concentrating on that scent he’d recognize anywhere.

Gaze scanning the surrounding area, he peered up and down the street, searching the faces of passersby as he tried to locate the source. Following his nose set him on his original path, toward his truck and he immediately found who he’d been looking for the moment they stepped out from behind his C-10.

The smile that fought for control of his lips was one he barely managed to pin down. Caden wanted to grin and to laugh, to jog the distance still between them and take the younger male into his arms. Instead of doing any of that, he frowned a bit, brow furrowing as uncertainty gripped his heart in its fist.

Physically, Noah looked the same. His hair was longer, his form bulkier, and his eyes were harder than Caden remembered them being, but he looked mostly unchanged. Mentally, well, Cade could tell that the man standing across from him now wasn’t the kid he’d left behind fifty years ago. Not by a long shot. He could also tell that Noah was pissed.

“You attacked Max,” he stated in a level voice that didn’t do much to hide his anger.

Cade’s steps slowed as he neared his truck, his gaze not dropping from his baby brother’s for a second. Nodding curtly, he confirmed, “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

He stopped with several feet between them and it was a struggle to keep his hands at his sides. All he wanted was to take Noah into his arms and squeeze the living hell out of the kid. His punk brother was a man now, with an air of confidence that would’ve made their old man so goddamn proud. For a long moment all Cade could do was stare at him, then he remembered that Noah had asked him a question, and he had to shrug.

“He came at my beta, threatened her. I wasn’t going to let that go.”

A muscle feathered in Noah’s jaw. His dark gaze was hard and incredulous as he regarded Cade. “He’s your brother.”

“She’s my pack--”

“We were your pack!”

Fate Grand Order

                             Verse Info - Protagonist Mishil 

Eons ago, when the holy grail wars were of biblical nature, and the true grail would manifest itself to grant the wish of the winner--there was a guardian who oversaw the wars waged across oceans and continents alike. The first ruler; Mikha’el. They were called many things over the centuries; the keeper of the grail, the holiest of saints, and even, one who was like god, in accordance with their namesake. 

Mikha’el was initially a tool created by the essence of what one defined as a true warrior and saintly ideal--a figure who would protect humanity in accordance with the will of their creator. Yet, through the passage of time, and wars--More and more would this angel ( another name given by humanity ) appear before the humans in their defense. They began to gather their own thoughts, becoming more sentient with each encounter and exposure to the various aspects of humanity. 

They became regarded as the guardian of humanity, one who would side with man when beasts, demons and all other manner of beings would wage their wars against humanity. However, that did not mean that they would not also punish the humans who would corrupt themselves for the grails power, attempting to perverse its original abilities for selfish gains. Even then, Mikha’el would diligently follow the will of the grail, and reset the war through it.

While they would observe the battles and wars, they did not tolerate the sacrifices or involvement of the innocent. What became feared of Mikha’el was their power against the other beings that fought. Mikha’el knew how their powers worked, their strategies and limits--they understood the strength and weakness of each hero and beast summoned.

The ability that they would pass on to those that would qualify as Rulers--The innate knowledge of a Hero’s true name and power.

When humanity attempted to corrupt the grail once more, Mikha’el, at this point, had seen the consequences and failures, and more in such a heinous act. The omnipotent power was not something meant for mortal hands, and so the being took the grail, and drew it into themselves after the last war---They learned of the future, of the dangerous path where humanity would be extinguished, and so, the ancient being made their first and only wish. 

Second Sight - Those who’ve been touched by death, and have overcome it, are granted an ability; the ability to see as death would. One can see into the souls of another, mainly the dead that roam the world. In a sense, these individuals are considered as those who can walk ‘between’ the living and dead, as they can see both sides of the lens. Those with this ability are few, due to various circumstances regarding dying and remaining alive thereafter.

After a harrowing incident involving the death of her mother, Mishil awoke with a scar to her chest and in the care of her godfather and high ranking members of The Order. She learned that she can see things most individuals can’t, and after years of training and her own hardships and experiences, eventually Mishil comes to terms and understands her abilities.

She is able to talk to the dead just as she can see them, and from her training, even gains the ability to purify them. Depending how intelligent or ‘kept together’ the spirit is, Mishil can converse with them freely, other times if they manifest in more horrid shapes, she ( well after her initial adjustment phase and training) waves them off or taps a purification spell to them grumbling, “Away, your so jumbled up you don’t even make sense. Move on already.” 

Spirits to Mishil are no different then the people she’s interacted with, so her attitude and response to them varies by interactions. That said, to those she’s crossed in her path that are suffering obvious torment, Mishil does try her best to resolve the situation (more then occasionally putting herself at risk). In the end, she wants the spirit to feel at peace and move on.

Her powers also extend to cursed individuals and demons, where she can see the color of their auras when she focuses, and see how deeply woven and intricate a curse is. This has actually helped her identify if a demon was formerly human, or if they are in fact, a human suffering a curse of some kind. 

Due to her sight, Mishil shares a different perspective as a slayer compared to the more puritan sort that view all demons as evil creatures. She’s sympathetic, and tries to find the root of the problem-it takes longer, and endangers her depending if she’s fighting the individual. That being said, this has caused her to be underestimated or viewed as ‘naive’ when in truth, if driven enough, she will eliminate her target, more so if they endanger innocent lives.

One piece - Mishil’s Abilities and Skills

Anima Anima Devil Fruit ; (  Paramecia-type ) A fruit that gives her animal attributes and lets her channel the abilities of beasts and animals of all kinds. She can enhance the abilities of the animals she mimics in proportion to her body, allowing her dramatic increase in strength and speed. Mishil also can communicate with animals and can override the natural predator/prey instinct found in most wild animals. She doesn’t talk like them (tho she could mimic certain sounds), but they understand her.

When using her abilities, her eyes melt to a red-orange hue, dark markings swirl over her skin. She can substitute her nails for razor sharp claws, has sharper canines that can lengthen at will, and slightly pointed ears. 

To Mishil the devil fruit is a curse. In a time she’d already felt vulnerable, was being hunted and treated like an animal—she’d found this fruit. Starving and ignorant of what she had discovered, she ate the fruit and felt her body shift and change during the night. Between her mothers death mixed with the superstitions of her home and her altered features, she was quickly demonetized and seen as a bad omen (I’ll write another meta on that). Since being on the run, she’s had to master her new powers herself.

Misc hc’s:

-Mishil respects the boundaries of animals and usually doesn’t like interfering with their natural habitat and behavior. She does enjoy studying them and taking notes and has looked after injured ones in her travels that needed attention. She has observed that animals who are more bonded to her do pick up a higher level of intelligence (ex, her wolf), so she limits her exposure as much as she’s able to not taint their innocence.

-In spite of her connection to animals, Mishil couldn’t become vegan. With how her body burns out calories, and her raised body temperature, she needs meat. When she hunts, she refuses to rely on her abilities and instead opts to hunt more traditionally.

-She hates those who hunt animals for sport and not for necessity. Mishil respects and values the life she takes when she hunts her meal and if she’s hunted down a deer, she’d be sure to save its antlers, bones and hide for materials for herself to use. She also considers those who use poison to hunt cowards and vile.

A spectre of Nihlus experience made Mishil feel a little twitchy. She knew beforehand that in working with Shepard, she would have to be careful when he was around. He was the more experienced spectre compared to Misty. His information network could also be different--but other then her unusual biotics, she was merely an informant and a mercenary with mutual interest to defeating Saren, and helping her comrade. 

        She frowned, looking over the encrypted files of Ceberus--all that remained since the mission requested by a now dead General Kahoku. The shadow-broker had manifested, or rather, one of their puppets, to retrieve this information. Mishil was more then happy to get a crack at it instead for Shepard--and genuinely wanted to know what was on the files. The experiments she’d seen, the labs... A chill raced down her spine. 

Was that really Cerberus or an independent group separate from her superior’s intention? It made her stomach twist. The meal she’d picked out earlier still untouched beside her. Rubbing her forehead, she hoped to ease the migrane rising--from the memories she pushed away or the recent events, she couldn’t say. When the turian spectre manifested beside her, she jolted in her seat, having not sensed his presence.