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cl-01-kestis · 2 years ago

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Blood and Honey - Tom Riddle x Female Reader | nsfw

Summary: Your rivalry with Tom Riddle was widely known around Hogwarts, there’s no one you hate more than him. But through the mist of rage and competition, Tom finds himself tempted by a very odd scenario.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, public sex, blood kink, injury description, fingering, cunnilingus, Tom has a borderline fetish for blood consumption, (both of you are 18)

(Part 2 taglist)

If there was one single person, only one, who you could hate the rest of your brief existence, it would be Tom Riddle.

Your reasoning was endless, every interaction was poison. He made no attempt of hiding the fact he hated you either, yet neither of you tried to resolve it.

For 6 years, Tom had been the one person who always got under your skin. He had a habit of teasing your skill, even though it was near the best in each class you sat. You scored 80% and above in each exam you sat, yet he still managed to pluck out the detailed faulty of your knowledge. He was always better than you, he always had to be better than you. He made sure of it.

Sometimes you thought he was better just to grind your gears, all that studying he put in was possibly to aggravate you. You knew it gave him the mightiest pleasure to see you suffer at his hands, he would have it no other way.

Potions class today was no different. You brewed one of the most advanced potions and handed in your thesis to your professor, minding your own business and going your own way. But your chest tightened and your hands turned into fists when you heard his voice nearby, laughing wickedly with his friends who stood by the corridors. You held your books close to your chest, avoiding any eye contact with the group of brash boys.

Tom spotted you but he didn’t say anything, instead he glared at you with a sharp smirk on his pale face. Your eyes found him, but you wish they didn’t. Your jaw clenched and your eyes narrowed, your pace unconsciously speeding up.

He watched you with a malicious glint in his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself as you looked away and rushed off, your cloak floating softly behind you. His friends words became a hazy murmur, his mind drifting from their conversation to thoughts of you and your pitiful demeanour. He found himself pondering your flushed face and pretty frown, knowing he caused it the majority of the time.

Tom shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to the library, hopeful to squeeze in some studying before dinner time. He wondered if you would be there, but his soft expression moulded into a scowl when he realised how intrusive his thoughts became about you. He licked his lips and entered the library, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You sat silently in the medical ward, eyes full of tears and your hands shaking from pain. You were outside the school grounds for a while with the creatures of the school greenhouses, needing to clear your head, the next minute you were tripping over a flowerpot and cutting your thigh deeply with large gravel. The head healer spent an hour plucking bits of rock from your wound, giving you supplements of pain relief to get you through the process.

Now you sat in bed with your wound open, she claimed it needed to be aired so it healed quicker with the medicine she gave you. But you were still in pain and still somewhat bleeding.

You missed dinner, to your sadness, but the healers made sure to give you some snacks and chocolate frogs to appease the hunger you felt. But you missed the roast dinner and sweet pudding you received every night, your stomach craved it.

You laid back against the soft bed, keeping your injured leg bent so it didn’t rub against the sheets or your other leg. You held a charms book in your hands, shakily flipping the page as you continued reading in the quiet of the ward. You heard the distant footsteps of the head healer, her voice whispering to other students since other patients were sleeping. You tried to block out the noise and continued reading.

Until the door to the ward opened, and in walked none other than Tom Riddle. Immediately, you hid your face in your book and sneakily grabbed the cover a few feet away, tugging it towards you to hide yourself more. You weren’t in a mood to bang heads with him, or even interact with him. The fact he was even in the same room as you made you want to chuck your charms book at him.

He was visiting Avery, you heard him ask one of the healers where he was and she hastily lead him to his bed, which was right beside yours. You cursed Merlin, grateful for the cover blocking his vision from you. Especially because your skirt was hiked up and your tights were off, your bare skin showing. You sat up in your bed, careful not to make any noise possible as you pulled up the covers and laid them over your legs. You weren’t about to be humiliated by your bully, you might as well fling yourself off the astronomy tower.

You heard the both of them bicker, but none of their words registered in your head. Tom was irritated at something, you didn’t really care. Hearing him annoyed made you smirk behind your book, knowing you never heard it often. Tom was a secluded man, he never showed an ounce of anger or irritation towards you when you insulted and constantly one upped each other. He was stone cold, but sometimes he cracked.

You heard Tom scoff at something Avery had said, but you quickly zoned out and found yourself slipping into unconsciousness, too tired to care. One of the healers came over to your bedside and buffed the pillows for you, wishing you a goodnight and making sure you were comfortable before returning to her nightly duties. This caught Tom’s attention, soon he found himself peeking around the cover shielding you. His eyes widened and he missed what Avery had said, completely focused on your sleeping state and the charms book in your hands.

“Hey, did you even listen to what I just said?” Avery frowned, fussing over his broken finger which was healed without hassle over an hour ago. He was taking up the bed when he didn’t need to, and Tom was here to drag him out. But now Tom was dwindling on the thought of why you were here, if you were hurt or recovering from an injury. He found himself lingering on you with concern, but his attention begrudgingly turned back to Avery after he continued to whine.

“Abraxus is waiting for you in the common room, don’t make him wait any longer than necessary” Tom instructed with narrow eyes, similar to a snakes.

“Aren’t you coming?” Avery raised a brow, cradling his bandaged finger.

“No, I have other matters to attend to” Tom dismissed Avery, who nodded his head and made his way to the infirmary exit.

Tom waited for Avery to leave until turning his attention back to you. You were still sleeping, the covers hiked up to your waist as you slept. Tom pulled up a chair and sat down at the corner of your bed, taking the charms book from your hands to inspect it curiously. This caused you to shuffle and peek one eye open, dread filling your heart as you realised who sat at the end of your bed.

“Hey, give that back!” You sat up, trying to snatch the book back from toms hands, but the Slytherin smirked and leaned back in his seat.

“Not until you tell me why you’re here. Let me guess, you were clumsy as always and had an accident?” He cackled, a shit eating grin on his charming face as he put his arm up while still holding your book. You were unable to reach it now.

You sat back in your bed, crossing your arms and scowling at him as he placed the book back down into his lap and opened the pages.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Tom, and for the record I am not clumsy” You frowned deeply, moving your foot to kick him square in the knee, causing another laugh to escape his pale lips.

“You obviously are, you always have been” He shot back. “I bet you broke your leg, or maybe you sprained your ankle?” He continued to toy with you until your face was red with embarrassment.

“I cut my leg okay? Just leave me alone” You looked away, suddenly finding the bedside table very interesting. Toms grin didn’t disappear, but he was curious about how your leg looked.

“That’s it? Just a small cut?”

“It’s not small, the nurse spent an hour taking out rocks and little bits of gravel from my leg” You sit up, peeking under the covers and noticing you bled on the sheets. Cursing, you lifted up the covers a tiny bit, revealing the top of your thighs to Tom who quickly fell silent and looked down at your charms book. He didn’t like you, but he wasn’t a pervert. He wanted to at least respect your privacy.

You brought your legs out from the bed, grabbing bandages from the side of your bed and unravelling them to wrap around your leg. Tom watched quietly, noticing the trickle of blood trailing down your shin after you placed your feet on the ground.

“You’re bleeding” He stated.

“Yeah I can see that, idiot” You sneered, wiping the blood with your hands instinctively and cursing as you smeared the blood further. Tom rolled his eyes and stood up, dragging his seat with him as he quickly summoned a pack of towels with his wand. You fell silent as he sat in front of you, sighing loudly as he placed the towels down on the dresser and looked down at your bleeding leg.

His eyes widened almost immediately, a pang of shock flooding his system as he watched the crimson liquid seep from your deep wound. He didn’t expect it to be this bad, the blood was all over your hands and smeared over your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess” He grumbled, grabbing the towels and grabbing your ankle so he could set it on his leg. You shoved him off and glared at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice was wary, not matching the angry glare seeping into his skin. You sounded confused, not hostile.

“I’m trying to help you” He snapped back.

“But why? I didn’t ask for your help-“

“Just shut up and give me your leg” Tom raised his voice, his eyes flickering up to yours as a warning. Your jaw snapped shut, bottom lip poking out just a bit further as you gave in and raised your leg. Tom muttered a ‘stupid girl’ and pressed the towel to your leg. You looked away and screwed your eyes shut, hissing at the stinging pain as he delicately dabbed the towel onto your wound.

“Stay still, you’re moving too much” He muttered in frustration, his grip on your ankle intensifying as he turned the towel around to catch more blood. You looked down at your hands, just as you were about to wipe them on your skirt he stopped you.

“Are you stupid? Here, let me” He grabbed your hands, his touch oddly soft yet commanding. Toms hand pressed against yours, the blood transferring onto his skin and causing his fingers to get sticky. His motions slowed, his eyes stuck on your clasped hands as the blood seeped through the cracks of his fingerprint. His eyes darkened, his throat suddenly dry and his stomach tense.

Your blood was on his hands, he realised. You started to get anxious at his silence and stillness, ready to ask what was wrong. But the boy simply stared and turned your hand over, his thumb caressing your palm. Tom gulped, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he let go of your hand and inspected his own bloodied one. Your blood started to dry on his skin, the smell of iron filling his senses. His mouth watered.

“Is everything okay?” You asked worriedly, leaning forward to your knees were touching. Tom nodded his head, his hands starting to tremble as he looked away from the blood and into your eyes. He swallowed again, his hand creeping back to hold your one as his eyes trailed to your lips. The feeling of blood between your palms was a strange sensation, you felt like you needed to wash your hands, but Toms skin felt like a dream against your own.

“Are you about to kiss me?” You whisper with a heavy breath, your heart beating erratically fast.

“If that’s what you want?” His voice sounded so soft, so vulnerable all of a sudden as his bloody hand cupped your cheek, his thumb skimming the skin of your cheek.

Without hesitation, you nodded, and Tom gently pulled you close and pressed his lips against yours. They were softer than you imagined, because admittedly, you thought of kissing him before. All that pent up frustration made you think of him differently overtime, no matter how much you hated him. You can’t deny you’ve pictured yourself in this situation many times.

Tom was so delicate with you as his other hand pressed against your unharmed leg, pulling you onto his lap as he leaned back into his chair. You straddled his waist, your lips departing momentarily as your breaths mingled together, right before he pulled you back in and kissed you fiercely. He cradled your body against his, bringing one of your hands up to his face before pulling away.

Tom took one of your bloody fingers into his mouth, licking the crimson substance off your skin which shot a shrill of excitement up your spine. Toms mouth was so hot and inviting, his tongue eager. You couldn’t help but whimper quietly as he bit one of your fingers, jutting his hips up into yours as you cupped his face with your free hand, getting blood on his jaw.

You kissed once again, his tongue entering your mouth, carrying the strong taste of iron. You tasted your blood before realising you were being pushed back onto the bed. Tom looked down at your thigh which was still wet with fresh blood and his eyes glistened with excitement, he crouched down so he was face to face with your uplifted skirt and revealed panties, but he didn’t look to them at the moment.

Toms tongue caught the stains of blood from your wound and lapped it up like a man deprived from water. Your hand flew to his hair, gripping it as you gasped at his surprising ministrations. Tom didn’t go near your wound in fear of infecting it, but he didn’t shy off the blood surrounding it.

“Oh Merlin… Tom, please” You cry silently, arching your back. Tom glanced up to your panties, noticing the obvious wet patch which grew bigger as time went on. He smirked against your skin, raising his arms and hooking his fingers underneath each hem of your panties.

The both of you were aware you were in a public area, so Tom quickly grabbed another cover from the ward beside you and shielded the both of you from anyone who might’ve come in at the wrong time. You sighed out in relief before Tom was back on you, his attention now on your skirt and underwear. He resumed removing your small garments that, really, left nothing to the imagination.

“Do you want me to continue?” He looked up at you with a soft gaze, noticing the nervous hints of your expression. You nodded your head eagerly, raising your hips so he could pull off your panties easier. Tom smiled and kissed you passionately as he put your underwear in his pocket, his hands slipping under your skirt and gripping your bare hips. You tried your best to keep quiet underneath him, but he was making it near impossible.

“How much do you need me?” Tom asked, trailing his lips down your neck and whispering against your pulse. You closed your eyes, using his shoulders as support as he grazed your tummy with his slender fingers.

“More than I can admit” You flush, leaning your head back to give him further access to your neck. Tom smirked against your skin and unzipped your skirt, pulling it off in one quick motion.

“You’re too full of pride to admit how much you crave me, I know you’ve thought about it, you’ve been anticipating this moment” He laid between your legs, his elbows stopping his body from fully leaning on you.

“I’ve been wanting this too, in class I’ve found myself picturing you bent over a desk, screaming my name” His hand found your exposed pussy, causing you to let out a choked moan. You felt like your skin was on fire, feeling too hot underneath your shirt and tie.

“Touch me, please” You gasp, Tom quickly covered your mouth with his free hand and leaned back so he sat back on his knees, positioning you so your head was against the pillow.

“We can’t be too loud now, darling, you need to stay quiet for me, okay?” He soothed your whines, kissing your forehead before focusing his attention below. His eyes shadowed over with desire, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

His thumb pressed against your clit, massaging small circles against it which caused your legs to tense up. You closed your eyes and struggled against his hand, holding onto his wrist as he brought his other hand up and lathered it with spit. He inserted his finger inside you slowly, careful not to hurt you or make you uncomfortable as he leaned down and kissed your neck. You used your free hands to undo your tie and unbutton your shirt, exposing your bra to Tom’s greedy eyes. He made a pathway of bites and kisses down to your breasts, all whilst thrusting his finger inside of you. You watched as a loose curl dropped in front of his eyes, making a fairly disheveled appearance. He watched as he inserted a second finger, enamoured with the way you stretched.

You tilted your hips up and hummed against his palm, throwing your head back slightly when he started to curl those two fingers. You grabbed the wrist once more, your grip tight but not enough to distract Tom from his goal. He directed his fingers towards that special spongy place inside you, causing you to nearly curl up into a ball if it weren’t for him keeping your legs apart.

“You’re soaking for me, fuck” He cursed lowly, picking up his speed which made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You trembled against the mattress, cunt squeezing around his skilled fingers as he kept punching your g-spot.

You tapped his hand, signalling to take it off your mouth. Tom quickly removed his hand, pushing a few strands stuck to your sweaty skin away from your face. He noticed your puffy lips and glazed eyes, smiling fondly as he watched your expression contort with pleasure.

“Oh god” You whisper, reaching up to grab his shoulder.

“Say my name” He pleaded as quietly as he could, his thumb returning to your clit and circling it softly which caused another adoring reaction from you. Your grip tightened against the material of his prefect blazer, but Tom didn’t care about the crinkles you caused. He leaned down and pressed his body against yours, your mouth was just beside his ear.

“Tom- please… I need you so bad” You sobbed, voice muffled by his shoulder. Tom cradled your head as his fingers worked harder on your pussy, leading up to an almost life changing orgasm. You felt your body tense, goosebumps scattering quickly as you started to climb your high. Tom peppered kisses over your flushed cheeks and forehead, down to your jaw where he sucked a dark love bite, marking you as his.

“You gonna cum, darling? Do it, do it for me” Tom mumbled, his voice verging on a whine as he watched you unravel. You squeezed your eyes shut, body freezing completely as the feeling of sharp, hot white pleasure ripped through you. It was more than difficult trying to keep quiet, tears trailed down your temples as you suppressed a scream. Tom kept curling his fingers into you to help you ride out your orgasm, feeling a sense of pride as he watched you twist and turn with unbearable pleasure.

Your breaths were ragged, you sounded like you’d been through 10 rounds of Quidditch with no breaks. Your legs shook at either side of Riddle as he gently removed his fingers from you, coated with your slick honey. He placed his fingers in his mouth and hummed, his tongue licking up the goodness of your climax. You felt yourself become aroused once more just by watching him taste your cum, you needed him all over again.

But to both of your devastation, the infirmary doors opened and a couple of healers walked in with new patients, thankfully going to the opposite side of the ward and away from you and Tom. The Slytherin pressed a wet finger to his lips, smirking as he lifted up your skirt and bent down.

You held back the combination of a giggle and a moan as he went down for a full taste, his lips kissing your inner thighs and right above your clit.

The two of you heard the nurses converse about treatments and diagnostics, all whilst Tom slipped his tongue inside you and held both of your legs over his shoulders. You had to keep your eyes open, alert in case either of the nurses came and checked on you at the wrong time. But Tom was distracting you terribly, to the point you quivered and kept looking down at his mop of dark curly hair between your legs.

He was just as skilled with his tongue as he was with his fingers, which caused difficulty when it came to keeping silent. You threw your head back against the pillow, your fingers lacing with his hand and giving it a gentle tug as he devoured you. Tom groaned against you, hands on your hips and guiding you easier to his eager mouth.

You wanted to cry, everything felt so good. Too good. You couldn’t remember how you got here, but by Merlin you never wanted it to stop.

You already felt your second orgasm approaching, the muscles in your body tensing once more as another tear left your eye. Tom was relentless, cruel with the flicks of his tongue as he glanced up at you struggling to keep your composure.

The peak of your climax creeped up on you suddenly, making you grab the pillow underneath your head and use it as a muffler as you let out a pained groan, thankfully not loud enough for the nurses to hear. Tom suckled your clit as you fell off that beautiful drop in your stomach, hips stuttering against his jaw as he held them down and continued lapping at your arousal. You cried, eyes shut and teeth clamping on the pillow as you used every cell in your body not to scream.

Tom pulled back when he felt he was satisfied enough with your orgasm, using his fingers to catch the sticky substance near his mouth that he couldn’t quite reach with his tongue. You kept your face hidden under the pillow for a while, still too fucked from the wonderful feeling between your legs. Tom carefully slid himself away from your legs, planting soft kisses on each one before clambering off the bed and back into his own seat, right beside your head.

“Darling?” His voice was quiet, eyes glancing down at you with slight concern. He wondered if he went too far, if you couldn’t handle the torment he gave. But he saw your sly smile immediately after you removed the pillow from your red face, eyes glazed over with pure satisfaction as you looked up at him.

“You should’ve done this far before now” You chuckled softly, your hands still grasping the pillow tightly. Tom leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair off your face once more and finding himself enamoured by the sight in front of him.

For the first time, a moment of peace dispersed between you two. There was no bickering, no insults, no battling it out until the other proved them self to be better. There was blissful, adoring peace. Tom placed his hand over your one, noticing it was still shaking from earlier.

“How are you feeling? Do you need any water? Any sugar?” He asked, his eyes tracing the shape of your face whilst his thumb brushed the skin of your knuckles. Your smile grew wider, nodding your head as you gestured to the glass of water on your bedside table. Tom helped you sit up, buffing your pillows and handing the glass of water over to you. He pulled the covers over your bare legs, protecting whatever modesty you had left as he contained doting over your hair. You didn’t want to know how bad you looked right now, but you felt very spoiled with Tom’s attentive nature.

“I feel bad” You whispered.

“How come?” The Slytherin prefect asked curiously.

“You didn’t get to finish” You frown, looking at the obvious tent in his pants as he let out a brief scoff.

“Don’t think about it too much, you can repay me when you feel better” He winked, causing you to roll your eyes.

Tom made sure you looked presentable for the nurses before leaving, and it just so happened he timed it perfectly.

The head healer peeked through one of the covers shielding your privacy, asking if it was okay to come in after noticing Tom’s presence. The both of you nodded and Tom seemed to get the hint when she showed you a thick pack of bandages and more medicine.

“I think it’s best that you go back to your dorm, Mr Riddle, don’t want to be out past curfew now” The healer smiled fondly at the two of you, sensing something was going on but minding her business nonetheless.

“Of course, my apologies if I’ve outstayed my welcome” Tom stood up, but not before giving your knuckles a sweet kiss before making his way out. He bowed to the healer, then you. He wished the both of you a goodnight before vanishing into the shadows outside the covers. You immediately felt lonely without him, but the nurse seemed to dissipate your sudden separation anxiety. She sat down in the seat Tom did and asked for your leg.

“He’s a good boy that one, dear” The nurse grinned, sterilising your abrasion before wrapping it in bandages.

“Yeah… he certainly is” You chuckled.

#x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #harry potter smut #tom riddle smut #Harry potter x reader

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talonabraxas · 4 months ago

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Scientific Decodation of Sri Yantra (श्रीयंत्र)

The term yantra, which literally means an instrument for holding or restraining, may be used to denote a variety of linear diagrams which play a significant role in the meditative practices of Tantric Hinduism. Yantras may be simple designs such as the cross, triangle, square, circle or lotus pattern, symbolizing basic concepts, or may be more complex combinations of such elements in figures representing in abstract form the particular creative forces in the cosmos which are called divinities.

The Sri Yantra is an ancient Indian symbol depicting the vibrational form (a form of mystical diagram) that rishis saw during mediations using the tone OMM. The Sri Yantra (sacred instrument) or Sri Chakra (sacred wheel) or Mahameru (3D) is a yantra formed by nine interlocking triangles that surround and radiate out from the central (bindu) point, the junction point between the physical universe and its unmanifest source.

It represents the Goddess in her form of Shri Lalita the beauty of the three worlds (Heaven, Earth, Hell). The shapes of five elements, found in Sri-yantra are; Air/ wood : Rectangular, Fire : Triangular, Earth : Square, Space / Metal : Round and Water element : Wavy form. They are closely related to the mandalas used by both Hindu and Buddhist Tantrism, in which geometric design is supplemented by elaborate symbolic images of the deities which by their various forms and attributes indicate different aspects of the hidden order of reality.

As the yantra is ‘the linear paradigm of the mandala’, expressing the same principles in geometric form. Like mandalas, yantras are used in the context of meditation and worship as visual-aids to concentration of the mind leading to realization of abstract principle which is the inner meaning of the visible representation. The best known and geometrically the most complex yantra is the Sri-yantra, also known as the Sri- chakra. The structure of this yantra is enigmatically described in the Saundarya-lahari (the Wave of Beauty) a lengthy poem praising the great goddess whose dwelling place the Sri-yantra is said to be.

By reason of the four Srikanthas (srikantha is an epithet of Shiva) and the five damsels of Shiva (which have the nature of Shakti), which are penetrated by Sambhu (i.e. bindu- the dot in the centre) and constitute the nine fundamental natures, the 43 (or 44) angles of your dwelling place are evolved, along with the 8-petalled (Ashta Prakriti) and 16-petalled lotuses(16 Phases of Moon, the circles and the three lines (TriGunas ; Satva Rajo Tamo).

When the inquisitive Sati addressed her curiosity regarding the functioning of the universe to Lord Shiva, he gave her a detailed pictorial explanation by connecting a number of lines. These lines proceeded to interlace themselves to form 43 triangles within a circle. It is composed of nine triangles, it is known as the Navayoni Chakra. These nine triangles are of various sizes and intersect with one another. This circle was further surrounded by layers of petals contained in three additional circles which were finally encompassed in three more sharp layers.

Sri Yantra is a circuit showing chakras of the body. Each chakra of the yantra is a symbol of chakra of the human body. In the middle is the power point (bindu), visualizing the highest, the invisible, elusive centre from which the entire figure and the cosmos expand. The triangles are enclosed by two rows of (8 and 16) petals, representing the lotus of creation and reproductive vital force. The chakras present in the body represent superimposition of 4 triangles and 5 triangles in an upward position and downward position respectively.

These interlocking of upward and downward triangle lead to the formation of 43 smaller triangles in the Sri Yantra. The downward pointing triangle is a way of representing Shakti which is the female principle. On the other hand, the triangles pointing upwards are representing Shiva, male principle. The broken lines of the outer frame denote the figure to be a sanctuary with four openings to the regions of the universe.

The different parts or petals and lines of the yantra are usually arranged in concentric circles (mandalas) and contain rays or sub-limbs of devi. The Shri Yantra has nine of these mandals, each filled with various aspects of the Devi. In Shri Yantra there are 111 aspects. The Shri Yantra is said to be a geometric form of the human body, which implies that goddess as Macrocosm is one with human being as Microcosm.

According to Tantra, the creation of the world begins with an act of division of the opposites that are united in the deity. From their splitting arises, in an explosion of energy, the multiplicity of the world. Starting from pure unity (Shiva), the world is continuous unfolding (energized by the power of Shakti), until a state is reached when the process must reverse and involute back to the very beginning. Multiplicity must once again become unity. Yantras are symbolic representations of this process of evolution and involution.

In its three-dimensional forms, Sri Yantra is said to represent Mount Meru, the cosmic mountain at the center of the universe. The Sri Yantra is conceived as a place of spiritual pilgrimage. It is a representation of the cosmos at the macrocosmic level and of the human body at the microcosmic level (each of the circuits corresponds to a chakra of the body). The human being is a miniature universe. All that is found in the cosmos can be found within each individual, and the same principles that apply to the universe apply in the case of the individual being.

For human beings, the body is considered the most perfect and powerful of all yantras and is seen as a tool for inner awareness. Formation of these 43 triangles is happening by the intersection of circles, starting from a central point - Bindu this central point expanding as a circle, then in the same measurement four circles creating further intersections by repeating this process fractals are formed.

Fractals are infinitely complex patterns that are self-similar across different scales. They are created by repeating a simple process over and over in an ongoing feedback loop, the central part of the Sri Yantra is 43 triangles out of circular fractals, after the fractal formation connecting the appropriate intersections 43 triangles, Sri Yanta is formed.

This formation will tell the secret of how the human body evolved in Karana (Causal) Sookshma (Subtle) level with the flow of Prana. Bodies are mere conceptions in the lower order of beings and they are not to the point in the case of God. Therefore, be wise, and worship the one pure, unblemished Transcendence. If unable to comprehend this pure state, one should worship God in the concrete form which is most agreeable to him; in this way, too, one is sure to reach the goal, though gradually. Though one attempted it in millions of births, one would not advance except in one of these two ways.

The main structural pieces in the Sri Yantra to start opening you to see multidimensionally beyond the simple lines and shapes. The Sri Yantra are surrounded by a square with four “T” shapes jutting out on each of its four sides. These “T” shapes are referred to as the gates of Bhuper, a reference to the earth (bhu). Each of these gates has a mystical significance beyond the representation of the four directions on the Earth plane (North, East, South & West). The square itself including the “T” gates form the foundation of the Sri Yantra and stabilize all energy within it for manifestation.

This square contains the earth (bhu) energy and when activated, the “T”s are the gates that control energetic access in the more Earthbound planes of the resident Divine energy for that specific Yantra (there are different types of Yantras with different Divine beings associated with them). Specific mantras are the keys to unlock or lock these gates. Looking inside the sacred geometry of this square you will find:

Circles which generally symbolize the Water element

Vertical Lines which are understood as containing the Fire element,

Diagonal Lines represent the Air element

Horizontal Lines which represent Ether element

Remember the Square itself is the Earth element

Looking at the center shapes of the Sri Yantra pay attention to the triangles:

Triangles, when pointed up, contain the Divine Masculine, as well as the Fire nature.

Triangles that are pointed downward, they contain Water element and the Divine Feminine.

For thousands of years, sages in India and other parts of the world meditated to discover sacred (self organising) life principles, how to enhance happiness and reduce misery in life. Sri Chakra arose in their visions. It combined geometry, sounds and life to channel the nameless, formless powers of God.

It is the king of yantras with nine layers of Shaktis (powers) covering the light of God in the forms of stars, lotuses and squares containing powers, passions and beauties. Their unmasked beauty and razor sharp intellects earned them a nickname- khadgamala- a garland of swords. They cut off and pierce through all limiting ideas of I and mine to release your unbounded bliss of God.

Learn the secret teachings of Sa-maya (Shakti’s happiness) Dakshina (Shiva’s happiness) or Kaula (Both happiness’s) and Vama (offering self in fire) acharas, and finally Ananda Bhairavis of devotees forming into a self empowering mandalas of Sri Chakras. The Guru at the center of such a circle is called Maha Mandaleswara.

Layers of coverings in Sri Chakra:

1. Square- 10 siddhis, 8 passions, 10 gestures. Use them to enjoy astral powers.

2. Lotus of 16 petals. Time is divided into 16 lunar days, each day bringing a special dream gift.

3. Lotus of 8 petals. Let go of inhibitions. Offer fruits of all your actions to Goddess.

4. Star of 14. Powers ruling the worlds place their riches at your feet.

5. Outer star of 10. These airy spirits blow away poverty.

6. Inner star of 10. They defend you from enemies.

7. Star of 8. They eliminate diseases.

8. Triangle. They teach secrets of controlling lust, enhancing wisdom and manifesting visions.

9. Circle or point. Take you to unending powers beyond mind. Merge with infinite peace, bliss and light of union with Shiva-Shakti.

The typical Sri Yantra with its central point (bindu) and concentric circles of petals and other geometries are conceived of as a sacred dwelling in which the presiding deity and their entourage take up residence. The bindu represents the location of the highest manifestation of the deity as well as the focal point through which the deity transcends the relative plane, with its form and structure to merge into the formless consciousness.

To help visually understand, the bindu is the center of the Sri Yantra and the dot is the symbol of AUM it represents the piercing, breaking or bursting through (bindu vedhana) and it is the final stage.

'यद् पिण्डे तद् ब्रह्माण्डे' Sri Yantra is a geometrical representation of the Human body as well as the Universe. Fractals are infinitely complex patterns that are self-similar across different scales. They are created by repeating a simple process over and over in an ongoing feedback loop, the central part of the Sri Yantra is 43 triangles out of circular fractals, after the fractal formation connecting the appropriate intersections 43 triangles, Sri Yanta is formed, this formation will tell the secret of how the human body evolved in Karana (Causal) Sookshma (Subtle) level with the flow of Prana.

This is the very same formless consciousness in which the devotee merges with the highest truth. The Sri Yantra is then fully activated in its Divine nature and reveals the true potential and nature of the devotee in this merging and loving relationship with the Divine as the divine.

Vidya means knowledge, specifically female knowledge, or the Goddess, and in this context relates to her aspect called Shri, Lalita or Tripurasundari whose magical diagram is called the Shri Yantra. She is a red flower, so her diagram is a flower too. Lalita means She Who Plays. All creation, manifestation and dissolution is considered to be a play of Devi or the goddess. Mahatripurasundari is her name as transcendent beauty of the three cities, a description of the goddess as conqueror of the three cities of the demons, or as the triple city (Tripura), but really a metaphor for a human being.

Sri Yantra is usually translated as a machine, but in the special sense of the tantrik tradition refers to the Devi in her linear or geometrical form. Yantras, by the way, are always used flat. They may be two-dimensional or three-dimensional. Every aspect of Devi has her own mantra and yantra. The yantra of Devi Lalita is Shri Yantra. The divinity of the yantra always occupies the centre or apex.

Sri Vidya (worship of the Supreme Being as Goddess) has a very holy tradition traced to the Vedas. The methods and intention for the worship of Sri Vidya has been extensively mentioned in the book Tripura Rahasya. Sri Tripura Rahasya, otherwise known as Haritaayana Samhitaa, begins with "OM Namaha" ("Salutations to Aum") and ends with "Shri Tripuraiva Hrim" ("Tripura is only Hrim"). Even Adi Shankara has used the story of Samvarta as found in Tripura Rahasya in his Brahma Sutra Bhasya. The book says that one should worship Tripura, the soul-sorceress, the all-hearted Vasini, the Siva and the Parameswari as the Satguru in the heart.

The seventh chapter of the book ends with the following: He is pure intelligence and His consciousness is absolute and transcendental. Such is the consciousness-intelligence in purity, Absolute Being, the One Queen, Parameswari (Transcendental Goddess) overwhelming the three states and hence called Tripura. Though She is undivided whole the universe manifests in all its variety in Her, being reflected as it were, in a self-luminous mirror. The reflection cannot be apart from the mirror and is therefore one with it. Such being the case, there cannot be difference in degrees (e.g., Siva, or Vishnu being superior to each other).

In its three dimensional forms Sri Yantra is said to represent Mount Meru, the cosmic mountain at the center of the universe. The Sri Yantra representation of the cosmos at the macrocosmic level and of the human body at the microcosmic level (each of the circuits correspond to a chakra or vortex of the body).

The Sri Yantra is a configuration of nine interlocking triangles ( 9×9 grid or gross body ), surrounded by two circles of lotus petals with the whole encased within a gated frame, called the “earth citadel”. The nine interlocking triangles centered around the bindu (8×8 grid the central point of the yantra or microabode or subtle body ) are drawn by the superimposition of five downward pointing triangles, representing Shakti ; the female principle and four upright triangles, representing Shiva ; the male principle.

The nine interlocking triangles form forty three small triangles each housing a presiding deity associated with particular aspects of existence. Man’s spiritual journey from the stage of material existence to ultimate enlightenment is mapped on the Sri Yantra. The spiritual journey is taken as a pilgrimage in which every step is an ascent to the center (8×8) , a movement beyond one’s limited existence, and every level is nearer to the goal.

Such a journey is mapped in stages, and each of these stages corresponds with one of the circuits of which the Sri Yantra is composed from the outer plane ( 9×9 ) to the bindu ( 8×8 ) in the center. The Sri Yantra is a tool to give a vision of the totality of existence, so that the adept may internalize its symbols for the ultimate realization of his unity with the cosmos. The goal of contemplating the Sri Yantra is that the adept can rediscover his primordial sources. The circuits symbolically indicate the successive phases in the process of becoming.

The Sri Yantra is composed of a central figure that is surrounded by two circular rows of petals and then by a rectangular enclosure called the bhupura. Here, we will be focusing mainly on the central figure which is composed of nine overlapping triangles and a bindu point. Four of the triangles point up, the other five point down. In the most popular configuration the two biggest triangles touch the outer circle on all three points.

When looking at the figure we notice that there is a high degree of interconnectedness between the nine triangles. This means that every triangle is connected to one or more of the other triangles via common points and they do not criss cross. Where the triple intersection points are located. These are the points that lock together the triangles. You can’t move one without also moving the others. This interconnections scale up to infinite small (Planck length a unit of length) protons etc. ) to infinite big ( cosmos, universe ). This is the principle of cosmic entanglement.

Notice also that the two biggest triangles are touching the outside circle on three points and that the apex of every triangle is connected to the base of another triangle. The up and down triangles when overlapped give a pentacle (पंचकोण जो तंत्र में प्रयुक्त होता है). Thus Sri Yantra is a geometry with five degrees of freedom. Pentadic scale of cosmic regulation is called panchmahabhuta in Hinduism and 5 energies in Chinese occult , which means that up to five different criterion can be used to define it. This is why we have to decide on the location of five lines when drawing the figure.

Five degrees of freedom is not a lot considering that there is a total of nine triangles. This is because of the high degree of interconnectedness between the triangles. This effectively limits the possibilities and variations that can be achieved. Lets now take a look at the bindu point; the small point located in the central triangle. It should be located in the center of the innermost triangle. This can be achieved precisely by placing the bindu at the center of a circle that fits inside this triangle. This is known in mathematics as the incenter of a triangle. To achieve a perfectly centered figure however, the bindu should also be located at the center of the outer circle.

The equilateral (समभुज) triangle is a perfect and minimal structure. It is the simplest, strongest and most fundamental structure in geometry and computer graphics. It has the highest degree of tensegrity (the characteristic property of a stable three-dimensional structure ) for a minimum amount of structural elements. This is also why the geodesic domea structure or building shaped like half a ball, made up of many parts that form triangles and other shapes with several sides ) a spherical structure composed of small triangles is the only man-made structure that becomes proportionally stronger as it increases in size.

The Sri Yantra symbolizes, among other things the unfoldment of creation. The bindu represents the unmanifest ( 8×8 grid of subtle body ), the silent state. The next level in the expression of the Universe is represented by the innermost triangle. This level represents the trinity of rishi, devata, chanda, or the observer, the process of observation and the object being observed.

At this point the symmetry of creation is still intact and will be broken when it reaches the next level which represent the grosser aspects of the relative. This reflects the unfoldment from unity or singularity to trinity as expounded (explain the meaning ) in the Vedic literature. According to the Veda the Universe becomes manifest when unbounded awareness becomes aware of itself.

The spark of self awareness ignites creation. At this point Unity divides into the trinity of rishi (the observer), devata (process of knowing) and chanda (the object of perception). The same idea is also found in the bible as the principle of the holy trinity. The central triangle is the central lens of the Sri Yantra. If as some suggest, this pattern is capable of emitting a significant amount of subtle energy, the importance of having a well balanced and centered figure becomes obvious. For these reasons the central triangle should be equilateral in an optimal . For this to happen the highest down pointing primary triangle must have an angle of 60 degrees .

The Centre of Mass (a point 'Bindu' representing the mean position of the matter in a body or system). Another measure of overall balance of a structure is the center of mass. This is the point in the geometry where it would balance if it was a solid object.

The central triangle of Sri Yantras shows a configuration/arrangement where only concurrency/agreement is achieved. In this case the bindu, the center of the outer circle and the center of mass are not aligned( arrange in a straight line). The central figure shows a Sri Yantra that achieves concurrency and concentricity. As a result the bindu and the center of the outer circle overlap nicely. The center of mass still doesn’t overlap however.

The three criterion that we have suggested (concurrency, concentricity and equilateral central triangle), the three centers overlap and we have a perfectly centered and balanced figure where the bindu is well centered and more importantly the centermost triangle has an angle very close to 60 degrees. This is called perfect balance or harmony with the source of all existence .

Since the Sri Yantra is based on triangles it is very appropriate that there are currently three main ways to represent this figure. The first and probably the most common is the plane form, which is what we have been looking at so far.

The second is the pyramidal form called Meru in India. Mount Meru is a mythical mountain. So named because of the mountain shape of the figure.

The third and rarest form is the spherical form or Kurma. Kurma was the second incarnation of Vishnu, the turtle incarnation.

This refers to the similarity between this form and the shell of a turtle. Ever wondered why the shell of a turtle is so robust. It is interesting to note that there seems to be some confusion with the use of these two terms. The pyramidal form is often wrongly referred to as Kurma.

A hymn from Atharvaveda is dedicated to an object that closely resembles this. The sriyantra (‘great object’) belongs to a class of devices used in meditation, mainly by those belonging to the Hindu tantric tradition. The diagram consists of nine interwoven isosceles triangles four point upwards, representing Shakti, the primordial female essence of dynamic energy, and five point downwards, representing Shiva, the primordial male essence of static wisdom.

The triangles are arranged in such a way that they produce 43 subsidiary triangles, at the centre of the smallest of which there is a big dot (known as the bindu). These smaller triangles are supposed to form the abodes of different gods, whose names are sometimes entered in their respective places.

In common with many depictions of the Sriyantra they have outer rings consisting of an eight-petalled lotus, enclosed by a sixteen petalled lotus, girdled in turn by three circles, all enclosed in a square with four doors, one on each side. The square represents the boundaries within which the deities reside, protected from the chaos and disorder of the outside world.

Tantric tradition suggests that there are two ways of using the sriyantra for meditation. In the outward approach one begins by contemplating the bindu and proceeds outwards by stages to take in the smallest triangle in which it is enclosed, then the next two triangles, and so on, slowly expanding outwards through a sequence of shapes to the outer shapes in which the whole object is contained.

This outward contemplation is associated with an evolutionary view of the development of the universe where, starting with primordial matter represented by the dot, the meditator concentrates on increasingly complex organisms, as indicated by increasingly complex shapes, until reaching the very boundaries of the universe from where escape is possible only through one of the four doors into chaos.

The ‘inward’ approach to meditation, which starts from a circle and then moves inwards, is known in tantric literature as the process of destruction ( a falling blackhole and emerging by big bang in a new universe ). The mathematical interest in the Sriyantra lies in the construction of the central nine triangles, which is a more difficult problem than might first appear. A line here may have three, four, five or six intersections with other lines.

The problem is to construct a sriyantra in which all the intersections are correct and the vertices of the largest triangles fall on the circumference of the enclosing circle. There is, however, a curious fact about all the correctly constructed sriyantras, whether enclosed in circles or in squares. In all such cases the base angle of the largest triangles is about 51.

The interpenetration of the nine basic triangles gives rise to a number of subsidiary triangles (43 including the central triangle enclosing the bindu) which form the abodes of the deities, representing the particularization of the original creative forces into more concrete manifestations. Sometimes the names of deities and Sanskrit syllables are written into these triangles, or images of the deities are placed in them.

In most versions of the yantra this central design is enclosed by two circular lotus-patterns with eight and sixteen petals, a girdle of three concentric circles, and finally a square arrangement of straight line with four openings ( Dharma Artha Kama Moksha). Dharma is duty, Artha means wealth, Kama is desire and Moksha means liberation.This square outline, which is common also to mandalas, symbolizes the royal palace in which the deities reside – an area of sacred space protected from the disintegrating forces of chaos.

In general, the Sri-yantra is a ‘cosmogram’ a graphic representation of the universal processes of emanation and reabsorption reduced to their essential outline. The yantra is an expression in terms of linear symbolism of the cosmic manifestations, beginning with the primordial unity.

The basis of Sri Chakra is its mantra; the fifteen lettered mantra in three groups: a e i la hrim; ha sa ka ha la hrim; sa ka la hrim. The sixteenth letter “srim” is present in a subtle form. Sri Chakra is basically a triad; and, is also related to number nine .

The triangle which is primary to the chakra has three angles and the deity residing in it is Tripura. The mantra of each of the nine enclosures of Sri Chakra is three lettered; the Mother Goddess is worshiped in her three forms; the Kundalini energy in the individual is threefold, and the phenomenal processes arising out of the union of Shiva and Shakthi are also three.

The Chakra design represents Tripura or Tripura Sundari; while her manifest powers (yogini) are nine. There are also three dimensions of the Sri-chakra corresponding to the three sections (kuta) of the mantra; and, each of these dimensions has a further division into three units. Each of these nine units are called as chakras that are encased in Sri Chakra.

All its other interpretations are also in terms of three and nine. The three groups that constitute the mantra are called Kuta (peaks) or Khanda (segments). They are interpreted variously in sets of three as:

1-Agni (fire), Surya (sun) and Chandra (moon);

2-srishti (creation), Shtithi (preservation) and laya (dissolution) ;

3-Iccha ( will), jnana (knowledge) and kriya (action);

4-Sattva, Rajas and Tamas;

5-Jagrat (wakefulness) ;swapna (dream state) and sushupthi (deep sleep);

6-Jnatra (the knower), jnana (the knowledge) and jneya ( the known) ;

7- Atma (individual self), Antaratma (inner being) and Paramatma (supreme self);

8- Past , present and future

Om Shree Matre Namah

By Anadi Sahoo ji

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

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Kaleidoscope: Heart

Tags/Warnings: Alien! Jungkook, Alien!Jimin, Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, strangers to lovers, poly!AU, tentacles (lord forgive me for I will sin), long tongues and sharp teeth and horns and tails and who's even surprised anymore?

Additional Chapter Warnings: soft, fluff, so much fluff

Length: short

Other content: Intro, Bonding

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

After a few weeks of living together, everyone has gotten used to your ways of communication, your ways of putting each of them in some sort of role for you. It's very interesting to observe you each day, your behavior sometimes oddly charming in its own unique ways.

In short; you're just really cute.

Yoongi is also very much happy about the fact that you seem to actively seek him out for help nowadays, the wall of wariness finally overcome as he's become your first choice if anything starts to confuse or overwhelm you. Seasonal storms outside? If you don't want to sleep alone you can always sneak into Yoongis bed, even if the others are home too (they will actively cuddle you no questions asked). Can't read something in a store, but it looks interesting? Just pull on his sleeve, and make sure to point it out, and he will in detail try to explain to you what it is you're wondering about.

Jungkook at this point, has become a protector of sorts. The world outside can be scary, especially with all the new things you're experiencing, like traffic and seasonal festivals. Fear instantly glues you to his side, but his presence also boosts your curiosity; if he approaches something with no signs of worry, then you will go along as well, no questions asked. It makes Yoongi always keen on keeping an eye out for you both however; since Jungkook sometimes does forget that there's things he can easily deal with that could very much prove to be fatal- like certain foods or heights for example. You don't have the assistance of a tail and extra appendages to secure you on higher levels, nothing there to break your fall if you were to loose balance at any point.

And Jimin takes the full role of a more caring person for you.

Be it by making sure you take your vitamins and supplements every day, to keeping track of your doctors appointments; Jimin has it all together it seems. And while he takes great care of your physical body, he also makes sure to care for your mental health as well. His kind, after all, always thrives towards perfect balance in mind and body, so he makes sure you always know that with them, you're safe and protected and always cared for. Safety is an important factor to heal; and he knows, there's much for you to heal from.

"She sleeps a lot." Jungkook mumbles almost disappointed, watching you nap on the blankets laid out for you on the living room floor by Yoongi a few days earlier. You seem to appreciate that greatly, finally resting wherever, whenever- no longer worried of any danger with them around. "Is that normal?" He wonders, tapping your nose.

"Yeah, Humans do generally need around 7 hours of sleep at that age." Jimin nods, while Yoongi clicks his tongue.

"Jungkook, leave her be." He scolds, making the youngest alien in the room almost pout.

"But, why do those tiny bodies need so much rest. It doesn't make sense!" He says, sitting up now close to you while you stretch, before turning around and curling into a different position.

Jimin shrugs from the side, joining you on the blanket pile. "They're simply different. And considering everything, I'm glad she feels finally safe enough to be as vulnerable as right now around us." He hums with a small smile.

"True." Yoongi nods. "I didn't think she'd become so relaxed so quickly." He says more or less to himself.

"Well, we're simply the best mates ever." Jungkook scoffs. "So no surprise there."

"You're so cocky." Jimin teases, before he lays down close to you.

"No come on, you can't be serious." Jungkook whines, watching his mate pull you close to him before he closes his eyes. And much to his disagreement, yoongi joins in not long after. "Seriously?" He growls impatiently, making both aliens laugh a little to themselves while hugging you in one way or another.

"You're stupid." Jungkook huffs, though he does join in as well.

And ends up sleeping just as long as you, in fact.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jimin imagine #yoongi imagine

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tanjirou-no-au · 3 months ago

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Roleswap Hashira and Their Fighting Styles

Managi - Water Pillar

It would surprise people to know that despite his flamboyant nature, Managi uses the most common breathing style with a basic katana.

Managi would roll his eyes at their confusion and occasional derision, regarding Water Breathing as the most beautiful of the Breathing styles, and staying ever loyal to his roots as a Swordsmith

And despite not being the best swordsmith, he forges his own swords whenever the opputunity arises, and they've served him faithfully and reliably.

Michikatsu - Moon Pillar

The Tsugikuni clan has maintained and refined Moon Breathing, honing it to the razor's edge, to the point that it is nearly impossible for someone not within the clan to wield it to its full effectiveness.

Though its sister base Styles (Save Stone) are performed with regular Katanas, over the centuries the Tsugikunis have found great success with longer weaponry, modifying the style for odachis, naginatas, nagamakis and Yaris, emphasizing precise footwork and hand placement in order to keep Demons at range.

Further expanding this range are the Trailing Stars, thin nichirin wires meant to rend demon flesh.

The Tsugikunis manage all of these through a technique known as the Empty Self, a sensory and/or extra sensory ability that allows them to perceive everything in a radius determined by the trailing stars wires (basically a watered down Transparent World)

Michikatsu has mastered all of them, wielding his modified naginata with brutal precision, amplified by the Trailing Stars and Empty Self.

Nakime - Sound Pillar

In contrast to Tengen, Nakime's Sound Breathing thrives on deliberate discord, flitting between an almost serene harmony characteristic of Flower Breathing, and rapid, frenzied strikes at home in Thunder Breathing.

Helping this along is a dao like blade and a straight edged tanto, linked by a chain equally suited for stabbing and slashing, uniquely designed to give off a discordant wail intolerant to demons with each swing.

But if silence is needed, or Nakime simply finds herself in a bind, she makes do with a heavy knife and her nichirin edged, wisteria rosined shamisen bachi.

Hakuji - Firework Pillar

Hakuji does not fight with a sword, in fact he seems disdainful of the very idea. Instead he fights with fists, legs, elbows and knees, helped along by clawed nichirin steel gauntlets and boots, studded with spikes and capped off by katar like blades that can spring out from each device, piercing the spinal cord between one blade becomes three, separating a Demon's head from its body.

If his Firework Breathing can be traced to any one of the classical styles, it might be found in the explosive strikes of Flame Breathing, and the circular defenses of Water Breathing , adopted out of necessity, but Hakuji's beloved Soryu Style still shines true.

Supplementing all of this is a physique similar to canon Mitsuri's, and a preternatural "battle sense" capable of sensing hostility and bloodlust.

Zohakuten - Emotion Pillar

When first picking up the sword, Zohakuten first adopted Flame Breathing.

But the varying personalities within his mind seemed to take to different styles, including Lightning Breathing, Wind Breathing, Water Breathing and Flower Breathing.

Through the odd symbiosis of these personalities, and the Breathing Styles they've taken to, Zohakuten has stitched together a style that Hashira Tsugikuni seems to recognize from his family scrolls.

Doma - Snow Pillar

When Doma first joined the Slayers, he took to Water Breathing, but soon found it to be...insufficient for his purposes.

Initially adopting a pair of tachi in place of the traditional katana, his self concocted Snow Breathing combined the fluidity of Water Breathing with the relentless offense of Wind, even adding elements of Mist Breathing as he again switched from his tachi to a pair of oversized, razor sharp fans wielded as either shortswords or clubs, supplemented with Wisteria laced throwing daggers.

Also unique to him is a unique lack of presence or intent, described by Hashira Hakuji as invisible in his battle sense, leaving him a dangerously unpredictable opponent in combat.

Gyutaro/Yuji - Poison Pillar

Despite his supposed musculature, Yuji's malnutrition left him bereft of much of the strength necessary to behead demons. While possible, it is much too strenuous to be viable for him.

Instead he uses a series of increasingly potent poisons, delivered via a pair of specially made, chained together kama, capable of injecting his concoctions through the edges and points of his scythes, and pop up blades located in the handles.

Inspired by Doma, Yuji wields these kama with his Poison Breathing, a viscous style combining the arcing blows of Stone Breathing and the relentless offense of Wind Breathing, intent on shredding tendons and delivering a death of a thousand cuts.

Daki/Ume - Ribbon Pillar

Initially taking to Flower Breathing, Daki found the style too stifling.

Instead, she created Ribbon Breathing, combining the agility of Flower Breathing with her incredible flexibility and elements of Mist Breathing, luring in opponents with the hypnotic motion of her whip like sword before cutting them to ribbons.

Kaigaku - Storm Pillar

It frustrated Kaigaku to no end that he could not master Thunder Breathing to the extent required to inherit his master's position as Thunder Pillar, but nonetheless, he persevered.

He would utilize elements of Water Breathing to create his Storm Breathing, a style characterized by explosive speed and fluid motions.

#KNY #KNY AU #KNY Roleswap #Upper Moons

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insomniamamma · 1 year ago

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We Came Along This Road: Frankie Morales x f!reader

A/N: This one got angsty and a bit personal. My little boy had colic and my milk mostly dried up at around 6 months, but I had to start supplementing with formula long before that. Colic's a funny thing. It really does sort itself out at around 3 months, but those three months are a fucking eternity. Silver Airways is a real regional airline serving the south eastern United States, the Bahamas and Caribbean. Since Triple Frontier was set in Florida, I figured this in an airline Frankie could fly for. His job would probably involve multiple short-hop flights a day. Written for my year of kisses, as part of @yearofcreation2023, the prompt being a kiss goodbye.

Warnings: Drug and alcohol use, hospitals, pediatrician mention, colicky baby, reader has a new baby. Fuck-ton of angst related to raising a child. Emotions that are all over the fucking place. Jumps around in time. Frankie's a fuck up. Broken relationship. No happy ending.

"Can I?" "No. Don't you dare wake him." Frankie bites at his lower lip, that same bit of flesh you used to suck between your teeth when you kissed him. His entire back would lock up when he felt the graze of your teeth, his breath would draw in sharp.

Gabe is colicky. The pediatrician assured you that he would sort himself out at about three months, but that seems like an eternity from now. Doesn't matter if you nurse him or bottle feed him, the bloating and crying happen anyway. Your milk supply is not what it should be. One more thing to worry over, and you've switched formulas but nothing seems to work. You hate yourself for it. This should be easy. When he nurses those big dark eyes are locked on yours clumsy baby fingers patting at your side, looks at you like you hung the moon and stars, but then he's screaming twenty minutes later, face crumpled up, mouth an endless zero, a black hole and you run through the steps in your head, rock him against your shoulder and pound his back to get him to burp and if that doesn't work, there's the simethicone drops and belly rubs and most times he'll fart and his huge eyes will goggle even wider and you laugh, how can you not? Better out than in, huh, buddy? And most times he'll calm after that, but sometimes he won't. Sometimes the moby wrap is the only thing that works, him tied against your chest in a fabric cocoon while you try to keep up with the dishes and washing out the bottles and trying to keep everything in some sort of order so you don't go insane.

Push everything out of your mind except the here and now. Try not to think about how Gabe's dark puzzled eyes had locked on to Frankie's and how Frankie had smiled so broad and wide, tears running unbidden and ignored down his scruffy cheeks, when he'd cut the cord and they'd tucked Gabe against your chest, the fever heat of him, so small and soft and warm. He felt impossible. The lactation consultant had showed you how to get him to latch, you're a natural she said. And the two of you discharged into the care of a flustered Frankie, I can fly a fuckin Blackhawk but this car seat almost got the best of me. Hey language. He doesn't understand yet. No, but he will. I would very much like his first word to not be fuck. Fair enough babe. Fair enough. Frankie looked at you and you both turned to look at Gabe dressed in a onesie with little foxes on it, already sound asleep. Holy shit. We're parents, he said, and those lovely dark eyes shone with tears that strained not to fall. Take us home, Frank.

You try to hang on to that feeling, now that it's just you. Just you and Gabe. Frankie's staying with the Millers for now. You found out he'd been using again late into your third trimester and he'd dropped down on his knees and swore to you that it was a one time thing. You know how they over-schedule us, Babe, his big warm hands folded around yours, eyes locked on your steady and sure and not sliding to the side when he promises you that he's done. I fucked up, squeezes your hands in his and looks up at you from on the floor, around the ripe curve of your belly, but I'm done. I swear to you.

And you wanted to believe him, feeling your son kick inside of you, press against the prison of your body and what choice do you have in that moment but to trust that he means it? The alternative is too bleak to think about. You can't do this alone. You realized that the second you peed on the stick and cried over the results until you couldn't breathe, he said he'd do right by you and, God, you wanted to believe. This shit? You can't get caught, okay? You can't. You think I don't mean it. I don't care what you mean! It's too fuckin late for that, cradling your distended belly in your hands, the baby's kicking, he never stops kicking, you get caught and you lose your job. You lose your job you lose our insurance. You got an extra 15k laying around? You get caught and we're fucked. I won't get caught. I told you, I'm done. And I'm telling you that you cannot get caught with this shit.

Gabe's finally down after what feels like hours so shushing and rocking and simethicone drops and tummy rubs, held him tucked against your shoulder listening to old country songs, Johnny Cash and Pasty Cline and Loretta Lynn, held him and rocked with him until he went slack against you, fever-warm and drooling into the crook of your neck. Prickling cramp in your tits and you carry him up the stairs, dribbles of milk let down warming and then cooling through your shirt. You'll pump, or try to, once you get Gabe settled, not that you expect much. You know that having to give Gabe formula doesn't make you a bad mom, you know that in your mind, but it's hard to hang on to that when the internet is full of contentedly nursing mothers with babies who sleep through the night and don't scream like the world is ending after every feeding. Settle him in his crib and hover. He stirs, stretches his arms on either side of his head like a cartoon cactus but doesn't wake. His mouth moves like it does when he nurses, tiny Cupid's bow of his lips pursed around nothing, but at least he's asleep.

I know it's hard now, but around three months he'll sort himself out, or so the pediatrician said, but that seems like an eternity from now, a whole different age. And for now Gabe sleeps, cactus arms stretched on either side of his head, but you know he won't stay down for long. You debate the merits of trying to sleep versus trying to tackle the mountain of dishes in the sink, trying to pump even though it's an increasingly fruitless venture, and then the door bell rings. It's not loud, about the volume of a stifled cough but your first reaction is rage.

You are so angry you can't even make words. The form letter from Silver Airways trembles in your hands as you shove it into Frankie's face when he comes in the door, his hands raised, as if that will make things better somehow. Suspension pending review, that phrase stood out when you opened the letter and the rest dissolved into tear-blurred hash, You fuckin told me you were done with this shit!-- Whoa hey Babe-- You got down on your knees and promised me you were done and now you go and get yourself shit-canned? What the fuck were you thinking? I know it sounds bad, Frankie takes a step back from you, hulking large in the door frame, But they've got a program, ok? For first time violations. Other than this my record is spotless. I'll make this right-- You won't, you say and his eyes go dark and hard, Gabe's high, reedy cries rising in the background, You couldn't stay clean for him. You won't stay clean because of what some councilor tells you. What are you trying to say? Tears run hot down your face but inside you are cold as the space between stars, a future stretched before you dark and wide, one that for the first time since you fell pregnant does not involve Francisco Morales. I think you should leave. He reaches to rest a hand on your upper arm, a gesture of comfort, of grounding, a gentle touch you've felt so many times before, but you bristle back as if burned. Are we-- Just go. I'll call, he says, retreating into the dark, M'not gonna ditch you. You don't say anything, just watch his headlights turn on, the rumble of his battered truck backing out of the driveway, crunch of tires on gravel and then the endless bug music and humid night.

I just got him down, you think, pulse hammering in your ears as you descend the narrow stairs, rushing to get there before the bell can ring again, not much louder than a stifled cough but with the struggles you've had getting Gabe to sleep it might as well be a sonic boom. "I'm coming," you call as soon as you think it's safe, something like a stage-whisper, open the door and there's Frankie, filtered through the window screen, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes shining in the ugly yellow porch-light, little glittering arcs beneath the bill of his hat. "Hey," says Frankie. And that knot clenches in your chest. Anger and grief and want all smeared together. You miss him, looking right at him in the bug-humming glow, soft pink!pink!pink! of moths and junebugs and christ knows what else suiciding into that sizzling orb, nothing you're feeling makes itself into words, you're so tired, so fucking tired, eyes filling up with tears, you cry so fucking easily these days and Frankie's through the door and folding you up in his arms before you can tell him to go to hell, that you don't want to see his face, sink into his familiar warmth, his palm cradling the back of your head, tucking you into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and he smells like laundry soap and beer, faint tang of sweat, warm and solid and despite everything you want to stay there forever, you want to be soothed, to be rocked and held and you are just so goddamn tired, but you extricate yourself and step back from him, scrubbing your wrist across your eyes. "Why are you here?" "I wanted to see Gabe." "He's sleeping. I just got him down." "Something's come up," says Frankie, "I've got a job, and I'm gonna be out of town for a bit." He's smiling, but it doesn't quite hit his eyes. "A bit? How long's a bit?" "Ten days at most. I won't be able to contact you though." "Christ. I thought you were done with this kind of shit." "The money's good," says Frankie, "It's just a quick recce. One and done. Redfly's with us this time." His hands find yours, fiddles absently with the ring you can't quite bear to take off just yet, squeezes your fingers. "It'll be enough to see us through til I complete the program and get my wings back."

You wouldn't let the nurses take him out of the room for tests. And when they tried to appeal to Frankie, all they got back was, you heard the lady. Gabe stays right here unless she decides different. You can do the tests in here. He can sleep right here. So they let him stay, swaddled and tiny, soft, snuffling breaths and you slept with your hand reaching into his crib, plastic box on a cart on wheels, your hand on his tummy, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, Frankie passed out on the narrow couch, hat pulled over his eyes. Gabe's here and he's perfect and he's yours, and you drift off to the rhythmic breathing of the two people you love most in the whole world.

"When do you leave?" "Tomorrow morning," says Frankie, takes his hat off and rubs his hand through his curls before putting it back on, a nervous gesture you've seen many times before. "Can I see Gabe? I've missed you guys so much." "It took me forever to get him down." "I just need to see him, okay?" "This job. This recce. How dangerous is it?" "It'll be fine," says Frankie, "Pope's gathering intel and we're backing him up. Low contact. Everything goes right the mark won't even know we've been there." "Where?" "Better you don't know, babe." "Jesus." "Hey," he curls his hands around your upper arms and gives you a little shake, "I'm not gonna ditch you okay? I'm not ditching him. I'm going to make this right, okay?" The breath that comes out of you is wet, wavering, and you nod, not sure if you believe him or if you just desperately want to, and those big brown eyes meet yours, his gaze sure and steady. You nod. "Yeah. Okay."

You and him stand side by side, peering down at Gabe in the soft greenish light from the swirling stars projected on the ceiling, soft hiss of white noise that he seems to prefer, his tiny hands balled up on either side of his head. Cactus arms. "He's filling out some," says Frankie, voice pitched low. "He is." Gabe's face has lost the newborn scrunch, "He's a little behind growth wise. The colic--" "He's perfect," says Frankie. Fake stars pass over his face, shifting light shining in his eyes. And you feel yourself smile, as tired as you are. "He's gonna be just fine." Frankie reaches into the crib and strokes the pad of his thumb between Gabe's eyes, and you draw a hard inward breath. Gabe's faces screws up and then smooths out, lips purse and suck at nothing. Frankie leans over the crib. "Hey little man, Se bueno con tu mamá, ¿vale? I'll be home soon." Frankie presses two fingers to his lips and kisses them, presses them to your sleeping son's forehead. Gabe stirs but does not wake.

You stand in the ugly light with Frankie, bugs doing their endless, mindless dance in the yellow glow and his hands find yours again, warm and calloused and familiar and gentle, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles. "I'll call. Soon as we're back state-side. We'll figure things out from there." You pull your hands away. "Sure." "Take care of yourself. You won't do Gabe any good if you run yourself into the ground." Turns and walks down the path to the driveway, turns back to you and smiles. "Stay off of those fuckin mommy blogs, okay? Those people are crazy." And you laugh. Frankie fuckin Morales. He can always surprise a laugh out of you. And for a moment it feels like before, before he started using again, before he got busted, before Gabe, just you and Frankie sharing a laugh, his eyes crinkled and warm, that sweet dimple sinking itself into his scruffy cheek, curve of his cheek as he turns from you, boots crunching over the pea-gravel driveway as he retreats into the dark. Dark that swallows him whole beyond the weak circle of porch-light, you can still hear his footsteps, fading into the endless, mindless song of crickets and rising scream of cicadas. You know in a moment you will hear his truck start up, rumble of a muffler that badly needs replacing. You almost call out to him, but you do not.

#year of kisses #frankie morales x f!reader #year of themes 2023 #triple frontier #heed the warnings kids #angst for days

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chaotic-on-main · 1 year ago

Note

Summer Event! 💕

Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream,

Kitchen Sink option but make it a surprise!

Thank you for being so understanding & sweet, I get really anxious if you can't tell haha. You're a dear💕✨

Order up!! One matcha green tea cone with everything but the kitchen sink for Eri!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ janitor!Levi Ackerman x fem!people-pleaser!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, meet-cute(kinda?), familial trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff, accidental therapy (for me), corporate ick

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Eri!! Thank you so much for sending this request in. I was a little worried with the whole "make it a surprise" because I struggle with lack of structure BUT I'm so proud of how this came out. I couldn't stop writing, as you can see. This might be a little self-indulgent and I hope I got the emotions right since I struggle with them. I just want Levi to call me out on my shit, okay?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! love you k bye *smooches*

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.6k (oops)

“Hi, you’re the new hire right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Carol from a few rows down. Listen, I hate to do this to you since you’re so new but you’re the only one I can ask. Would you be able to do the data entry on the Sina job? I can’t stay past closing tonight due to my set plans and unfortunately it’s due tomorrow morning. Could you help me out? I’ll pay you back!”

The voice of your overly excited brunette coworker reverberates through your skull as you type away at your desk, the bright light of your monitor biting at your eyes just like the migraine you feel in the back of your head. You had a feeling that this is not the first time the people in the office have picked on the newcomers, and you bet it wouldn’t be the last. You chalk it up the fact that you were still in the office past seven in the evening doing someone else’s work because they dropped the stack of papers on your desk before you could say anything back, but you knew better. Damn your pathological people pleasing tendencies.

Your chair squeaks as you lean back in it, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you sigh heavily. It’s a handful of days into your first week and you’re already daydreaming about your next vacation. An office job was not your first go to, but as all struggling artists do, you needed this job to supplement your income until your art took off – if that ever happened.

Thoughts of how much longer you’d have to be here swirl through your mind when you’re interrupted by a loud thunk a few cubicles down. It startles you so much that you jump up as your eyes shoot open, hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it. You weren’t aware of anyone else in the building so you can’t help but think there might be a mass murderer just feet away from you. Steeling your resolve, you push yourself up from your chair and carefully peek over the half wall to see what had made that noise.

At first you don’t see anything as your eyes adjust from seeing nothing to the semi-lit office floor from the setting sun and dimmed overheads. Down the row, you see the back of a man in what you assume to be a gray janitor’s suit. An undercut peeks between short raven locks, neck lines sharp giving away to a clean cut. It doesn’t seem like he notices you’re there as his attention is focused on the waste basket in front of him.

You sit back down slowly, heaving a heavy sigh from relief that it was indeed not a mass murderer – well, that you know of. He didn’t seem threatening from far away at least. Your hands hover on the keyboard as you do your best to blink away the tired. Only a few more pages now, you reassure yourself.

An hour later, miraculously you find yourself down to the last page. The miscellaneous words and numbers swim off the page as you force yourself to focus. With the promise of a late night treat, you finally make it down to the last line. Just as you’re about to hit ‘enter’, something kicks the back of your chair causing you to yelp loudly and slam down on the keys harder than you meant.

“What are you still doing here?” A deep voice grumbles from behind you, making your ears twitch at the sudden volume difference. You twist around in your chair to see who the voice belongs to and you’re surprised to see it coming from the janitor you saw earlier. What’s even more surprising is how young he looks, and handsome to boot - despite the look he’s giving you. Stark gray-blue lidded eyes stare down at you as he scowls, eyebrows pinched together. He doesn’t look pleased.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m working on some…” Your voice falters when his expression turns into annoyance.

“You’re in my way.” He simply states as he leans against a vacuum you only now notice sitting under his arm. Was your focus so strong that you completely missed the sounds of him cleaning around you?

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me get out of your way then.” You say timidly, pushing yourself out of the chair. You’re face to face with him at standing height, even in your work heels. This was a very intimidating man despite his short stature.

“I’m not going to clean with you breathing down my neck.” He grumbles, eyes narrowing at you like you asked him the most offensive question known to man. Your lips part as you struggle to find your words, but nothing comes out as you find yourself low-key panicking.

“I c-can just-”

“Just finish what you’re working on, I’ll just come back.” He rolls his eyes before walking away, leaving you and the vacuum illuminated by your computer screen. You ball your hands in fists to keep them from shaking.

Exhaling a weak breath, you sit back down and force yourself to focus on the last line of data instead of the glowering expression of your office’s janitor.

You slam your forehead into the vinyl coating of your desk, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to hear the echoes of contact through the whole floor. It’s nearing seven at night again and you’re still in office catching up on yet another coworker’s workload.

When they asked what plans you had tonight, you didn’t think that saying you were going home to watch TV would bite you in the ass. If you were completely honest, you had quietly hoped they might be asking if you wanted to go out for drinks with them. After all, they were the only ones that had really talked to you in the past few weeks but you’re starting to wonder if they were just trying to butter you up to get you to say yes to their requests.

Who were you kidding though, you would have said yes anyways because the word ‘no’ didn’t exist in your vocabulary. You wish you weren’t so aware of that fact because not only are you stressed out, you’re full of self loathing. A groan escapes your lips.

“Still doing other people’s work?” You hear a familiar voice grumble from behind.

After lifting your head up from the cool desk, you swivel around in your chair to see the janitor – this time in dark blue. A white handkerchief wraps around his face, covering his mouth and nose so that all you see are his tired eyes. A same-colored bandana adorns his head with some of his bangs falling into his eyes. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from asking what the point of the bandana was if it didn’t keep his hair out of his face.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, partly from not using it for so long but also because of the steady unfriendly feeling radiating off him. He raises an eyebrow at you as you stare up at him almost dumbfounded.

“I- who said I was doing other people’s work?” You finally make out, voice trembling.

“You’re new, right? The office goons do that to every newbie that comes in.” He folds his arms over his chest and you see that his sleeves are rolled up to show his toned forearms, muscles popping up from the position they’re in. Your eyes flicker back up to his, blinking slowly.

“I’m sure but they needed the help, so...”

“Because they would rather slack off than do any work. They’re taking advantage of you and you’re falling for it? You’re an adult, right?” There isn’t malice in his words but they still sting.

“Of course I am! I work here, don’t I?” Your eyes widen in emphasis, sweeping your hands around you.

“Tch, that doesn’t make you an adult. I’ve been here for years and I’ve seen my fair share of children.” His scowl reappears at those words. You’ve never met someone so grumpy.

You close your mouth at that, not sure what else to say. He clicks his tongue and flips a small towel over his shoulder. Turning on his heel, he sets off down the aisle without another word, the sounds of his heavy boots getting quieter.

You don’t get done until 10:30 that night. On your way out, you pass by the janitor who was currently on the inside of the board meeting glass walls, wiping them down with what you suppose is glass cleaner. His eyes meet yours as you walk by and you offer a small wave and smile even though his short words still sting. You think he’s going to ignore you but instead, he gives you a curt nod.

The janitor’s words swim through your mind the next time you’re asked to stay behind to help out. You spent the last couple of weeks doing your best practicing in the shower on setting boundaries with your coworkers but when the person who came to you next was your supervisor, how could you say no.

You were in the middle of packing your bag while lost in thought of your weekend plans when she came to you. You’re thinking you might stop by the evening market by the river before heading home with some food from the local vendors when a finger taps on your shoulder followed by your name coming out in a honey-laced voice.

“Hey, I just wanted to stop by and commend you on being such a team player in the last month. It’s something we find rare in someone as young as you and of course we’re grateful.” Your red-haired boss beams down at you while she talks. The feeling of ice pricks in your veins at what you know was coming next.

“I’m really sorry to come to you so last minute and on a Friday no less, but because of your wonderful work ethic, you’re the only one I can trust to complete The Warrior Project. It’s been extremely slow going and we need it done by Monday. Do you think you can stay behind and help us out?” She offers you an apologetic smile, eyes boring into yours with sincerity.

You wished you could have said no but the words died before they made it out of your mouth, instead agreeing meekly with a fake smile.

So now here you sit at your desk with the dying rays of light rising higher against the back walls as the sun sets, fingers flying across the keyboard. You suppose you’ll have to stop by the late night convenience store on the way home for some dinner; your face scrunches up at the thought of your very limited choices.

“If you type any harder, you’ll break it.” You don’t bother to turn around at the voice, knowing damn well who it was.

“I’m sure they’ll get me another one. They need me to finish this, after all.” You mutter the last part under your breath. The smell of something sweet and tangy hits your nose and on contact, your stomach rumbles loudly.

Swiveling in your chair, you’re met with the janitor who’s simultaneously holding a feather duster as well as a bag of what looks like Chinese take-out. Your eyes widen at the sight, bouncing back and forth between the objects in his hand.

“Are you here to eat or dust?” You ask, finally looking up to his face. There’s no expression on his pretty face. You still haven’t gotten over how stunning he was, with his pointed nose and pouty bottom lip. Today he has his janitor uniform half on, the sleeves of the suit tied around his waist so that it’s only pants. Tucked in is a black t-shirt that shows more of his muscular arms. He’s not ripped by any means but it’s very obvious he exercises on his time off.

“I’m here to dust. This is for you to eat.” He says dryly, shoving the bag in your direction. Once again, you find your words stolen as you stare at the brown paper bag that sits curled in his pale fingers. Your eyes shift back and forth between his face and the food.

“F-for me? Why?”

“Whenever I see you here late, you never eat. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I eat when I get home.” You retort back softly. A late night meal for you consists of a single serving bag of chips and whatever looked edible at the convenience store – but you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Just eat it.” He pushes it forward to you again, the warm smells of food wafting past your nose. It smelled like heaven.

“I- no. I can’t take that, it’s yours!” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. A dark eyebrow shoots up his face.

“So she can say no.” He reaches over you and places the paper bag down on your desk. Along with the smells of delicious food, the scent of clean laundry and musky pine tickles your nose. It’s a very pleasant combination, and one you were not expecting. “Eat it, throw it away, I don’t care.” He says casually before turning around and walking off. Your hand reaches out in an attempt to stop him, but he’s long gone.

Twisting your chair around, you eye the paper bag for a moment before finally caving. Your stomach is about to eat itself and he had paid for it, so you don’t want to waste it. Why he would care enough about you to order food is a mystery, though.

Upon opening the contents, you’re greeted with a small foil dish with a plastic covering holding what you believe is orange chicken. A little white box off to the side contains sticky rice and in the little plastic package next to it holds some spring rolls – all still steaming hot and smelling wonderful.

You spend the next half hour scarfing down your dinner while thinking about how you’d pay the janitor back. The flush that started creeping up your cheeks at the end of your encounter with him stays even when you go to bed late that night.

The week after, you intentionally slow down on your daily work so that you had a reason to stay late and finish it. But much to your dismay, you don’t see the janitor anywhere. You’d leave each night a little embarrassed at yourself for being so excited for someone you’ve talked to a handful of times, but to your benefit you had a reason for your madness.

Finally, you gather enough courage to peep your head over your half-wall and grab your coworker’s attention – whose attention was on a mobile game in his hands and not on the spreadsheets in front of his face.

“Ryan?” You whisper-shout down. Your brunette coworker’s eyes shoot up to yours, almost in a panic.

“What? Is the boss lady making her rounds?” He asks back. You sweep your eyes around the office floor and finally find your supervisor who was currently in a meeting with other board members.

“She’s busy, you’re fine. I actually had a question?” You didn’t realize how soft you were speaking until he stood up to meet you, towering a good foot above you with his ear down to you.

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew when the janitor might be back? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” You subconsciously start picking at your nails – a nervous habit.

Ryan stares at you as he processes your words before throwing his head back in bellowing laughter. You’re quick to shush him and duck your head down from the glares aimed your way at such a loud disturbance.

“Not so loud!!” You whisper-shout again.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious why you want to know? He doesn’t like anyone, and no one likes him.” He shrugs his shoulders. You so badly want to tell him to shut up and that you like him, but instead you settle on trying to get him to answer your question.

“Well, what’s his schedule?” You narrow your eyes in hopes of getting the message across that you were serious.

“Well, that’s the thing, he’s always working. Sometimes even on the weekends. From what I heard, his cleaning routes are the same every week. He doesn’t get to our floor until late in the week. He has a thing for cleaning, so I heard, and that’s why there’s only one janitor contracted. He’s so weird.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he rests his chin against the top of the wall.

“What’s his name?”

“Why do you care so much about the janitor?” It’s Ryan’s turn to narrow his eyes to you. You’re asking too many questions and he’s getting far too nosy about your business. It’s best to retreat for now.

“Uh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You squeak before plopping yourself down at your chair and pretending to click around on your word documents until you no longer feel the pierce of your coworker’s stare.

So he’s always here, you think. You’re just missing him on your way down. You bite back a smile as you glance down to the clock at the bottom corner of your screen. The time reads 4:37pm and it’s a Thursday which meant that he would be around your floor this evening. Perfect. Your eyes sweep over to your bag in your excitement.

In the time it takes for you to wait for the gray-blue eyed janitor, you’ve finished half of the next day’s work. A part of you starts to wonder if he isn’t coming tonight, that it may be tomorrow instead, and weirdly you find yourself hoping one of your coworkers would ask you to help them out again so that you had a reason to stay.

“That’s so stupid.” You say out loud as you stir sugar into the black tea you had spent the last 5 minutes steeping. You’re standing in the office break room, lost in thought.

“I’m sure the mug doesn’t feel that way.” That voice makes your heart flutter, and you bite back the smile that threatens to curve into your face. Instead, you pinch your lips together and turn around.

The janitor is there alright, uniform zipped up tight as he holds a spray bottle and a rag. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the break room, arms folded across his chest. His black hair falls into his face, almost kissing the corners of his heavy-lidded eyes as they watch you intently.

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, pointing your spoon at him.

“Here I am.”

“I have something to give you as payback for dinner last week.” You muse, grinning at him. His eyes widened briefly before going back to normal.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m grateful for it, dummy.” Carefully, you place your spoon next to your mug and walk towards him until you’re face to face. It takes him a moment to realize you were waiting for him to move, and carefully he backs away so that you have room to escape.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You order before dashing off to your cubicle.

When you come back with the gift in hand, you see that the janitor hadn’t moved an inch. His intimidating eyes follow you as you stop in front of him, slightly breathless from speed walking back. An eyebrow raises at you as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“I-ah. Okay. So. I made these for you. I ended up having to make a fresh batch because I didn’t see you for a bit and I didn’t want to feed you stale cookies so. Anyways, here. Thank you for feeding me last week.” You beam up at him as you hold your hands out to show him your gift.

It’s a small plastic bag wrapped with a pastel bow. The contents of the bag include bite sized cookies that you spent all last night remaking in hopes you would see him again. They’re pale yellow in color, dusted with a light coat of cane sugar. His eyes widen again at your gesture, this time staying big as they stare at the bag in your hand like its gold.

“You… made these for me?” His voice is low.

“I did! I don’t know if you like sweets but these are my mother’s recipe and her cookies were never that sweet. Pretty much the sweetness comes from the sugar on top. The rest are just buttery goodness.” You gush as you stare off in thought, the happy memories of your mom making these cookies for you flooding your brain.

When your eyes fall back to the raven-haired man, you’re almost tempted to run away in embarrassment. His neutral expression stares back at you and you take a small step back.

“I’m sorry, this is probably weird. You don’t have to take them actually. In fact, I’ll just le-“

“No, you’re fine. I uh, I appreciate it.” He quickly reaches out and grabs the bag, the sound of crinkling plastic taking up space in the nearly empty mess room. You offer him a small smile, grateful that he accepted the gift. His eyes trail past you and onto the kitchen counter behind you. He purses his lips as he thinks but finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Pour that disgusting excuse for a tea out and follow me. Bring the mug.” He says tersely before turning on his heels and out the door. You blink hard a few times as your brain processes his words but quickly you find yourself dumping out the tea and chasing after him down the cubicle aisles.

Soon, you’re sitting on the ground with the janitor as he pours steaming amber liquid from the thermos he pulled out of his cleaning cart just mere moments ago. It splashes into the bottom of your mug and fills it quickly, then he hands it over to you as he starts speaking.

“So are you a workaholic or…” He gives you a side eye.

“I should be asking you that. I’ve been told you work practically every day, even on weekends.” You hold the mug by the handle as you stare down into the cup. “Is this…?”

“It’s tea and no I didn’t poison it.”

“What was wrong with the tea I had?”

“Stale tea leaves don’t make for a good cup of tea.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No, I’m not a workaholic. I like to clean, and I get paid for it. Plus, I’m left alone. Usually.” He grumbles the last part, but you don’t detect any hostility in his voice.

“Well, I’m not either. A-a workaholic, I mean.”

“No, I suppose not. Just a people pleaser then?” His statement makes you splutter on the tea you had just sipped on. Despite it going almost everywhere, the bitter taste of the dark leaves bite at your taste buds. It’s unsweetened and you can’t keep the slight look of distaste off your face. Luckily, it’s covered up by the glare you shoot his way.

You don’t say anything back at that, knowing any denial would have been a lie but you didn’t want to confirm it either. However, you can’t hold back the annoyance that simmers in your chest at such a presumptuous statement, from someone you hardly know, no less.

“Beats being disliked by everyone.” You mutter finally, setting your mug on the floor next to you. Your eyes drift to the floor-to-ceiling window you were both sitting in front of. The last dreg of golden sunlight warms your face as you stare out into the bustling city as they prepare for the evening.

“You say that like it should bother me.”

“Shouldn’t it though?”

“Why would it?”

“Don’t you want people to like you?” You whisper softly, dragging your gaze over to his face. There’s no readable expression on his face as he sips his tea out of the top of his thermos lid. He’s holding it in a way you’ve never seen before – long fingers gripping the metal from the top rim and tilting it back into his mouth.

“I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.” He says finally as he gives you a side eye.

You’re not sure if your surprise at his callous attitude is warranted or not. Your interactions with him have been few and far in between but that night he got you dinner, you thought maybe he was a little more caring than that.

“Why do you care if people like you anyway?” He leans back on a hand, his other cradling his cup.

“I just- well. I don’t know.” You say simply. You do know.

“I read this thing about people-pleasers. It said that they’re great manipulators. They bend and break just so that others tolerate and like them, pretending to be something they’re not. Are you trying to get something out of it?”

Your eyes snap to his, feeling the heat behind your stare at his insinuation. Where did he get off calling you a manipulator? A pretender? Despite the subtle rage dancing in your eyes, you give him a smile and push yourself off the ground, grabbing your mug on your way up.

“Thank you for the tea. I really must be going now.” You say politely, voice coming out higher than you meant.

“Tch.” Is all you get back.

With that, you turn on your heel and head back to the break room to pour your tea out and rinse the mug, leaving it out on the rack to dry. You’re quick to gather your things before practically running down the aisles to the elevator, down to the front door, and towards home. A lump in your throat stays even after your shower and still when you lie down for the night.

After your last encounter with the janitor, you find that you’re rushing home as soon as you can. You aren’t necessarily mad at him for telling you a hard truth, but the rumination of having someone being annoyed at you doesn’t go away.

Your evasive tactics work for a while. Your office was in between projects and jobs so no one had come to you for help for anything. But of course that didn’t stay that way for long and your luck would run out as it always had as the quarter was about to close. Your supervisor came to you early on a rainy Tuesday morning to tell you that some freak accident had happened to the last reports which made the data you spent days organizing completely disappear.

You don’t know what was more frustrating: the fact that your hard work from the last week had completely vanished or the fact that no one in the office offered to give a helping hand when you needed it the most.

Your supervisor apologized and said the entries needed to be done by the next morning so they could be submitted in time for the quarter review. With a forced smile and false-positive voice, you agreed and got started on it right away.

This was about 12 hours ago.

The only thing that brings you solace is the knowledge that the janitor was not due for your floor for a couple days so at least you could work on it without worrying about running into him. And thankfully for you since you were semi-prepared for being held back, you ordered pizza for dinner before the front doors locked for the evening.

For some reason, you find yourself sitting on the floor in the same spot you had shared bitter tea with the janitor. You’re lying on your back with your phone hovering as you scroll on it mindlessly, a more than half filled pizza box next to you with the lid propped open slightly. There’s a vacation photo that pops up from one of your acquaintances that makes your chest tighten from envy.

“You’re in my way, brat.” A voice from above rings out. It startles you so much that your fingers loosen on your phone, and it comes smacking into your face with a loud slap. Your eyes scrunch shut from the stinging pain radiating from your nose as you groan softly.

You sit up from your position, making sure to grab your phone before it falls on the ground, and turn to narrow your eyes at the perpetually scowling janitor. You hear a subtle pop in your back as you do.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out more accusatory than you meant, and you end up clearing your throat before giving him a forced smile.

“I’m working. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“You’re not supposed to be on this floor today.”

“Says who?” An eyebrow quirks at your statement.

The words die on your tongue because even you knew that one person’s word was not enough to be reliable. You reach over to close the pizza box and gather your things to leave. He doesn’t say anything and only stares while you push yourself up onto your feet.

“I’ll just get out of your way, then.” You mumble, bending down to grab the pizza box in one hand and your empty cup in the other. As you brush past him, you can’t help but wonder if he’s still mad at you, though you can’t logically find a reason why he would be mad in the first place. And if he was, then what did you do? These thoughts are jarred as a vibration in your back pocket alerts you to a notification. Upon more buzzes and the start of your soft ringtone, you realize it’s a phone call.

Stepping over to the nearest desk, you set your stuff down and pull out your phone. On the screen is the caller ID for your mom, her faux-happy face staring straight at you as the lights around it pulse. You don’t fight the grimace that etches into your features. Hitting the green button, you regret it immediately.

“Hi mom!” You exclaim, forcing another smile on your lips.

“There you are! I really thought you had died on us.”

“Of course, I’m not dead. Just busy!” You state happily, turning around to face the windows again. A relieved sigh escapes when you notice the janitor is no longer standing where he was.

“You should call us more. You know I was talking to our neighbor about you recently! Remember Donna and her kids? Apparently her youngest just got engaged. And it got me thinking…” Your mother’s words trail off as your eyes glaze over. Your pulse is steadily picking up speed with every word, and you grip the edge of the desk tightly to keep yourself grounded.

“Anyways, both of your sisters are coming to visit with their little families. When are you planning to come by? It would be nice to have everyone home again. Maybe this time with a man on your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, mom. I just started here, so getting the time off will be a little hard to do right away. But I will ask my supervisor, and see? I want to see everyone too.” Your voice wavers a little as the muscles in your face start to hurt from your smile.

“Your grandmother is asking about you, you know. I had to come up with some excuse about why you’re so far away, and single no less.”

“I’m working on it. I’ll give her a call soon.” Tears prick in the corners of your eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you are, honey. Oh, your little sister is calling, I need to go. Please call us more!” And just like that, the line goes silent as she hangs up.

“I’ll call tomorrow, I guess.” You whisper down at the blank screen. Setting your phone down, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes to get rid of the wetness that threatens to overflow. You practically feel your heart beating right out of your chest as your mom’s words float around your head.

“I see where it comes from now.” The janitor’s deep voice comes from the right of you. When you pull your hands away to look at him, he’s holding out a steaming mug to you. Hesitantly, you take it. The color of the liquid is lighter in color and smells slightly floral. A mile’s difference from the last thing he shared with you.

“Where what comes from?” You mutter before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s hot but not unbearably so. The taste is gentle and has a touch of sweetness to it. It’s pleasant, and not something you were expecting.

“Your people-pleasing tendencies.” He leans against the half wall next to him as he eyes you.

“Please do enlighten me, as I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” You reply back in a monotone voice. You were tired in more ways than one. Slaving away at this project that you were only 80% done with. Staying late, lack of sleep, and now your mother calling. You were tired and you can’t mask anymore.

“Let me guess.” He raises his hand and taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Middle child. Your parents always apologized for what you lacked. Always felt like you had to put in extra effort to be seen and walking on eggshells so that when you are seen, no one pulls away. You’re starving for real, positive attention.” Again, none of his words come out malicious but they really sting. This man hardly knows you and yet he’s spreading your entire childhood out like it was nothing.

You’re tired.

“Yeah. Exactly that. And it’s infuriating. Not to drag on my sisters because they’re doing their best and they have the same parents I have but it’s like…” You take another sip of the honey liquid before continuing, feeling the heat of not only the tea but also anger burning in your chest. Your eyes drift back to the front window.

“I can’t stop myself from doing above and beyond on the off chance I might be liked and appreciated. I’m putting in all this hard work and still it doesn’t matter. I’m just so tired.”

The sun is all but gone and is replaced by the city lights that illuminate the indigo sky above. The janitor stays quiet through all of this as he takes in your words. You’ve never told anyone any of this before, and part of you feels liberated. The other part feels guilty for putting something so heavy on someone who probably doesn’t even care.

“So, what if it doesn’t matter? Why are you putting so many expectations on yourself? You’re just one person.” He stands up from the wall and walks around it so that he’s face to face with you. His arms are folded across his chest again as he eyes you warily before continuing.

“I spend everyday cleaning after you shits and no one sees that. And yet, what I do matters because otherwise this place would be a shithole. You do not have to bend over backwards so people can see your accomplishments, they still exist whether they see it or not. But, say they approve of your help, then what?”

“What do-” Your fingers grip tight on the handle of your mug.

“They say thank you for doing what they asked you to do, then what? Do you keep up with their demands?”

“If I have to.”

“And what do you gain from that outside of exhaustion?”

You want to lie so bad. You want to say that you get a lot of enjoyment from making others happy. That you gain happiness for making others smile because you did what they ask of you. But you realize that putting yourself out there for the sake of others is wearing you down. And you aren’t actually happy.

“I don’t.” Your voice cracks and when you blink next, your sight is blurry.

“That’s what I’m saying. You bend and you bend for these short bursts of attention but you don’t need it. The only thing that should matter to you is your wellbeing. The rest comes after.” His voice retains the same dryness as it had before, but there’s an unmistaken lilt of tenderness.

You look away from his gaze and wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand as you take a shaky breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much about me?” You offer him a small smile to hopefully deter any ill will that statement could bring up.

“Tch, don’t get me wrong, you’re still annoying. But, I can’t stand watching people tear themselves down for the sake of others. You’re here to live for yourself, not for them.” His steely eyes roll to the ceiling before landing back on you.

“Right. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smile at him, a genuine one that squeezes your eyes closed. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, even if your words are a little rough.” He huffs at that then nods curtly, tapping his foot on the ground.

“On that note, I need to-“

“Will you stay with me?” Your words come out faster than you can stop yourself. A sudden burst of warmth blooms into your face. “I-I mean, if you want. I just have this pizza left and-“

“Do you want me to stay?” He stares hard at you as he reads your reaction. You have a feeling he’s testing you.

Do you want that?

Yes, you do.

“Please stay?”

He considers you for a moment before relaxing, his arms falling to his sides.

“Okay.”

Once again, you find yourself on the floor with the janitor, knees tucked into your chest as you’re lost in thought. He sits a few feet away, slowly chewing on a just heated up piece of pizza while he stares out into the night. Your eyes never leave his face, watching the way his long eyelashes tickle his cheekbones and the way his hair falls in his face. You notice the dark circles that bruise the underside of his eyes.

“Do you ever take time off?” You ask softly.

“I never needed to.”

“You look really tired.”

“That’s just my face.” You laugh at that and he gives you a side eye. He wasn’t expecting that from you.

“Where would you go if you ever took time off?” You ask despite the fact he might ignore you as he didn’t seem the type to indulge such stupid questions, but he surprises you.

“Home.” He says without skipping a beat.

“Home? Really? Are you not home that often that you miss it more or something?”

“It’s quiet and all of my things are there. Where else would I go?” He stares at you with a perturbed expression. His dry voice adds to his comment and you find it very endearing. You think you see his lip twitch, but it might have been your imagination.

“What about you?”

Leaning back on your hands, you stretch your legs out with a soft groan and stare out the window. By this time, it’s well into 9pm and you still have work to do. But with the janitor staring at you, you find yourself pushing the thought of work away for now.

“Don’t laugh. But I really want to experience a day in that park off of Centennial. I heard it’s really nice in the afternoon because of the trees and little river that cuts through it. I would love to just sit out on a blanket and draw for a bit.” You say wistfully. You can already feel the heat of the sun against your skin.

“You’re an artist?”

“Yeah, struggling and starving as most are. But I draw when I can.”

He hums softly. “That sounds like a good day.” He says, wiping his hands on the towel that was tied to his utility belt around his waist.

You beam over to him at that. You again think to yourself of why people don’t like him. He was blunt and a little tactless, but he was caring and empathetic. Something you wouldn’t see from the outside. You liked him for just being himself with you.

Realization dawns on you at what his words meant earlier. Just being you was enough. You matter.

“Thank you.” You say simply, a toothy grin pointed his way.

A month passes and you find yourself steadily settling more into your job. You haven’t seen the janitor much since that one night. When you got home after that conversation, you made a promise you would only do things that you wanted to do for the sake of yourself and not others. The next time your coworker came to you for help, you were able to put your foot down and tell them no. Your voice and hands shook the whole time, but since then you haven’t been bothered. Unfortunately, you helped your supervisor when asked but you are proud of the progress that you made with your boundaries.

And now, here you are on a blanket in Centennial Park on a Thursday, lying on your stomach with your sketchbook propped open in front as you pop grapes into your mouth. There’s dark charcoal smudged along the side of your hands but you can’t find yourself caring as you finish a hooded eye with a flourish. It’s a nice day with a light breeze that helps keep you cool and soft music flows through your ears from your earphones, quiet enough so that you can be aware of your surroundings.

You’ve been at the park for so long that you’re almost done with your drawing and you’re thinking you should have brought a book to read when something kicks your foot. It makes you jump and your head twists behind you to see who or what it was. You assume it’s a child that kicked their ball too far as that happened earlier, but instead you scrunch your eyes to make sense of the figure in front of you.

Your eyes trail up to find it's a man dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of oversized headphones circling his neck and sunglasses covering his eyes. The shades are dark but you can only assume he’s staring down at you. In his hands are two hot to-go cups.

“Can I help you?” You ask up to the mystery man, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

“So she does take a day off. It’s nice to see you away from the computer screen.” The voice is familiar and you find yourself scrambling up to your feet, staring at him hard. He’s the same height as you and you notice his lips are all too familiar. They’re the same ones belonging to the drawing you just finished.

“You’re the janitor! What are you doing here?” Your annoyance quickly changes into surprise.

“Took the day off and I’m meeting a friend.” He raises one of the cups which you assume must be his friend’s. “And you can just call me Levi, by the way.” He grumbles the last bit. You only now realize you never asked for his name in any of the interactions you’ve had with him. Your face flares in embarrassment.

“I- yeah. I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me to have never asked.” You tell him your name as well but he just nods.

“I know who you are, and it’s fine.” He shrugs, tone dry as ever.

“You know my name? But how?” You don’t remember telling him your name. Nor has he ever been around to hear it be said. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You have a plaque on your desk.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.” You run a hand through your hair as you laugh at that. You don’t notice the way his eyes flicker from your sweet face to the sketch behind you on the ground. He huffs softly at that.

“Well, I can’t keep them waiting so. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmurs before turning on his heel in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Levi!” You yell, taking a few steps towards him. His head tilts back in your direction so that you see his blue-gray eyes side-eying you from behind his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” You ask quickly. Your voice wavers slightly with anxiety as you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure you don’t have other people’s work to complete first?” You laugh at that.

“No. I don’t think that will be a problem.” The sides of his mouth twitches.

“Then sure. Only if you bring your mom’s cookies again.” He raises his cup at you before turning his back to you and walking down the hill.

You sit back down with a grin, staring down at your finished sketch of Levi leaning against the doorframe of the break room.

Doing things for yourself has never felt so good.

I'm adding my taglist to this bc I'm actually quite proud of this one?

-> taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @nube55 @svftackerman

The link to my taglist is in my pinned post on my blog!!

#sky's summer event #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #modern au #asks #answered #cw parental trauma #janitor!levi ackerman #janitor!levi #hurt/comfort #fluff #eri.moots

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dragons-bones · 1 year ago

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FFXIV Write Entry #18: A Raven's Shield

Prompt: fish out of water || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Spoilers through Patch 6.4: The Dark Throne. Probably could be considered a sequel to "An Apple a Day (Does Not Keep the Paladin Away)" from earlier this FFXIV Write.

The chaos of the Final Days had ushered in a wave of adventurers to Radz-at-Han, the Satrap authorizing the hiring of the Guild’s finest to supplement the Radiant Host, and as such Zero attracted little attention despite her black armor and heavy scythe. Even her bafflement over mortal norms could be easily explained away as a foreigner interacting with Thavnair’s culture for the first time. It was the best possible way to avoid any awkward questions, especially since her association with the Warriors of Light would inevitably draw more attention to her.

Though, Dancing Heron thought, it helped when one of those Warriors of Light wasn’t immediately recognized.

Heron was nearly always recognized because of her ubiquitous red and black armor, a set she had taken to wearing in the days after the first Garlean offensive at the Ghimlyt Dark. Combined with her sword and shield and her natural height, there was little question about who she was with how quickly stories were spread about the Warrior of Light. She had taken to dressing down whenever it was feasible to avoid much notice; eyes slid more easily off a roegadyn woman when she was in simple blouses and trousers rather than armor.

A dressed-down roegadyn and a heavily-armored adventurer walking together was a bit of an unusual sight, but not enough to garner more than a second glance.

Today, Heron and Zero wandered one of the bazaars in the northern part of the city, the road wide enough to accommodate a pair of gaja walking side by side even with stalls lining each side of the street. Most of the merchants here were hawking food and produce and cookware: spiced and grilled hamsa served on skewers, barrels of starfuit and langsat and persimmons, beautifully shaped ceramics and shining bronze pots. Locals and adventurers alike were out shopping, and Heron and Zero effectively vanished into the crowd.

Zero had even deigned to leave her scythe behind, which Heron had quietly cheered about in the privacy of her mind, though she had graced Zero with a blinding smile when she’d seen the other woman exit her rooms in Meghaduta without it. Zero had merely blinked and ducked behind the safety of her hat’s brim. Heron knew better than to push.

As happened most often, they walked in comfortable silence. On some of their excursions, Zero would ask questions, but today it seemed she was content to merely observe the people and things around her, sharp eyes missing nothing even as she nibbled with obvious relish on spice-laden meats or fresh mango. It was clear the half-voidsent enjoyed anything strongly flavored, from the lava-like heat of Mehryde’s special curry to intensely sour buttermilk from Corvos to the cloyingly-sweet payasam that she and Synnove would genteelly fight over, and Heron sneakily spent her gil at random stalls to treat Zero to some new taste.

She quite enjoyed how it lit up Zero’s eyes.

Horns suddenly caught their attention, and both stopped to swivel their heads to face east; more than one other adventurer in the crowd did the same. Faintly, Heron could pick out drums, too, and the jangling of bells.

“Oh, hells, that’s today, isn’t it,” the shopkeep at the pottery stall they had halted next to, sighing heavily, but a rueful expression on his face.

Heron put two and two together. “Wedding procession?” she said.

“Aye,” the shopkeep said. “Children of two of the wealthiest merchant families in the city, and all the pomp and gold that entails.”

And that was when the first of the drummers and dancers rounded the corner far down the street.

There was a sudden surge as the crowd realized they needed get out of the way, the adventurers bewildered and the locals either smiling or shaking their heads in frustration. As the press of people grew around them, Heron sighed herself, and let instinct kick in.

“Excuse me,” she said, and wrapped an arm around Zero’s waist.

“What—” Zero didn’t have time to finish her question before she yelped as Heron yanked her off her feet and moved.

Heron was the daughter of two former Sultansworn, the granddaughter and niece of many a bodyguard, and escort missions were her forte in the Adventurers’ Guild: she knew how to get a client out of danger in damned near any situation. And while this crowd was quite different from a panicking mob, some techniques stayed the same.

Zero was by no means a small or slight woman; there was muscle in that lithe frame of hers, well-suited to swinging that monstrous scythe of hers like it was a bamboo practice staff. But Heron was over seven fulms tall and when she planted her feet, not even Tyr could get her to budge. It took no effort at all to heft up Zero, turn to the side, and go shoulder first to push through the heavy throng. Zero, thankfully, seemed to realize Heron knew what she was doing, and let herself be half-carried along with a frustrated breath that huffed over Heron’s collarbone.

There was no point in trying to get off this street entirely: the stores and houses had been built right atop one another, with no room for alleys between, and the next cross street was too far ahead. So, just need to find a free spot out of the crush…there!

A tall stack of crates was set between two stalls, and Heron unceremoniously elbowed her way through. It took but a moment to lift Zero up to sit her on one of the crates just above eye level of most of the crowd. Zero huffed again, ducking behind her hat brim, but she moved sideways and Heron easily pulled herself up to sit next to her.

“Such ridiculous spectacle,” Zero grumbled as she crossed her arms, her cheeks faintly pink.

“Wait until you see what the Ul’dahns can come up with,” Heron drawled. “The Hannish love their reds and golds, but at least wedding colors here aren’t tacky.”

As the dancers and drummers and horn-blowers neared, a white gaja turned the corner far down the street, bedecked in red and gold barding and carrying a palanquin on its back. Even from here, the tiny forms of the bride and groom waving and tossing coins and sweets out to the crowd could be seen. A cheer was going up, and. Yup. There was the gulal, in all the colors of the rainbow.

“Why red?” Zero finally said.

Heron hummed thoughtfully and said, “I know it symbolizes health, in Thavnair.” She started tapping her feet against the wooden crate. “I think it also symbolizes love and purity?” She shook her head. “I don’t know enough to say for certain. Perhaps Varshahn can tell us more, once we get back.”

Zero tilted her head to look directly at her, unblinking. “Red for health,” she said finally. “Is that why you partially color your hair red?”

Heron laughed softly. “Nah,” she said. “Nothing so grandiose. It’s just my favorite color, and I thought I looked good highlighting my natural black.” She reached up to gently tug one of her feathery locks, idly making a note to visit an aesthetician for a trim. “Just never got out of the habit.”

“You do,” Zero said, almost blurting it out. The pink flush was back on her cheeks and Heron couldn’t help but notice just how it softened her features. “Look good with the red, that is.”

Heron felt a flush creep up her own cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, her voice only a tiny bit high-pitched.

After a moment, another set of tapping heels joined Heron. Heron grinned and bumped her shoulder against Zero’s. She grinned wider when she caught a glimpse of a tiny small tugging on the other woman’s lips.

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#ffxivwrite2023 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #zero #zero x wol #zero x heron #oc: dancing heron #dt's writing

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medicus-mortem · 3 months ago

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@piecedpirates asked: This was something she had been dreaming about since the day she had found out he was alive, that it wasn't only her that survived the horrible mess that became of their home. She'd been searching, following all the leads that she could to be following the Heart Pirates, and their yellow submarine so when she had heard word of them being on the same island she rushed herself to the port - wanting to see if it was true. Running probably wasn't the best idea as it left her fighting for air as she stopped at the submarine and her heart grew. Her final wish, and she might be granted it. Gathering her breathing in, she knocks on the submarine - knowing not to just climb onto it without permission. What do you do to get the attention of people on a boat? "Hey! Surgeon of Death! You here?" She calls out, trying to make sure her voice was loud enough - even if he wasn't, maybe someone on the crew was. "I need to speak with you." Please let him be here or nearby, Lami pleas in her head as she fixes the mask on her face, and the bag on her shoulder - she was running very low at this point, this might be her only chance. She won't leave until she sees him, because this has to be it. Continuously she bangs against the sub. Unprompted

Shachi sighs, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of the sun bathe his face. The deck of the Polar Tang is a rush of motion and activity. Ikkaku barks orders at Bepo and Skua, getting them to check one part of the ships outer hull or another. It’s rare to find a friendly port and this might be the last time they can give the Tang some decent repairs for a while. Darter heads the shore team, getting them ready to depart and get the supplies they need after Penguin returns with the list from their stores. Clione stands beside him, muttering something about needing more wheat substitutes to supplement their captain’s diet.

Said captain isn’t here, among the chaos. He’s left that in Shachi’s hands while Law lingers in the gloom of his cabin, working on his plans and his medical reports. As thankful as he is for the vote of confidence Shachi does wish his friend would step out into the sun. He’s been seeming pallid and exhausted lately, perhaps a little depressed. Shachi suspects he hasn’t been sleeping, which isn’t new but is still worrying. Perhaps he should go down there and drag Law up to the surface.

A metallic thudding cuts into Shachi’s musings. Eyes open behind his shades, a frown creasing his brow. The bustle stops when a shout rings out, a woman’s voice calling for the Surgeon of Death. Shachi bears his pointed teeth and pushes himself off of the Tang’s wall. He sees his crewmates tense, hands reaching for weapons or balling into combat ready fists. Even Ikkaku starts to stalk forwards, ready to snap at anyone who would lay a hand on her Polar Tang. Shachi waves her off and surprisingly she only glares at him instead of lashing out with that sharp tongue of hers. Tentatively the rest of the crew go back to work, happy to leave this situation to their Man-at-Arms.

Shachi comes to the railing, leaning over to look down at the woman who leans perilously out between the dock and the Tang to slap her hand against the hull. He can’t see her face, only noting a very strange mask. His mouth presses into a hard line, the half-fishman trying to remember if Law has ever had a thing for women in masks. Because yes, the thought of one of Law’s many flings catching up to them does jump to mind. His captain is a sleazy bastard with a habit for breaking hearts, not just stealing them.

“Back the fuck up, woman!” Shachi barks down at her, voice harsh. “The hell are you and what makes you think you’re worthy of my cap’n’s time?”

------------------

Deep within the Polar Tang the Surgeon of Death sits hunched over his desk, awash in the cold, harsh light of his home. He scowls at the distant thumping vibrating through his ship. He’s become so accustomed to the Polar Tang’s sounds, to her rhythm, and he knows that thudding isn’t part of it. He may not be as attuned as Ikkaku, as able to tell what is wrong with his ship simply by listening, but when he hears something that doesn’t fit it breaks his focus. He sits up, pulling his golden gaze from the journal and documents arrayed before him.

“The hell is that?” he growls, looking beyond the walls of his room. “I swear, if Ikkaku is making another one of her hair brained enhancements I am going to chew her out so damn hard.”

#piecedpirates #piecedpirates || Lami #boring question // answered ask #as planned // ic #[gotta deal with Shachi before you can get to your big bro Lami]

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mybrainco · 1 year ago

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Best Pea Protein Powder

Discover the ultimate fitness companion with the best pea protein powder from MyBrainCo. This MCT protein powder is carefully designed to enhance your health journey by delivering the ideal balance of nutrition and energy. Each scoop embodies the essence of plant-based excellence, delivering a rich source of muscle-repairing pea protein.

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thecreaturecodex · 2 years ago

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Consonite Choir

[Bestiary 3 doesn’t have quite as many cool unique elementals as the previous two, but it does have some neat ones. Like the consonite choir here, which also serves to flesh out the Plane of Earth in general. I would love to read a book of weird “mundane” flora, fauna and minerals of the various planes. ]

Consonite Choir CR 13 N Outsider (elemental) This mass of sharp, cylindrical crystals moves as if with one mind. As they vibrate and jostle together, they make beautiful music.

Consonite crystals are one of the many forms of marvelous minerals found in the Plane of Earth. Razor-sharp and highly resonant, they sing out with the movement of the plane. As more and more consonite crystals grow in fields of stalactites and stalagmites, they form a hivemind, and eventually shake their way free of their moorings and begin to explore. Consonite choirs love music, and produce it almost constantly, but this song is perhaps best appreciated at a distance.

If threatened, a consonite choir will flow to engulf a threat, slashing them with their crystalline shards and exposing them to a deafening sonic barrage. Enemies that attempt to engage from a distance can expect to be peppered with fired shards of consonite crystal, each imbued with sonic energy as well. Their perpetual hum causes metal and stone to resonate with dangerous sonic energy, and they are sometimes employed as something like a bard to supplement the armies of a shaitan or other powerful creature of Earth.

Consonite choirs cannot burrow, unlike most earth elementals, and prefer to live in more open caverns. Those that learn of the existence of other planes often want to go there to listen to new music and feel the vibrations of breezes and waves. This is exploited by some conjurers, who summon them to act as musicians, guardians or both. Consonite choirs despise xorns, masticators, and other monsters that feed on gemstones.

Consonite Choir Treasure Consonite choirs do not carry treasure, but the minerals that make up their bodies are treasure enough. A consonite choir’s remains are worth incidental treasure of its CR as gemstones, and standard treasure if used as components for magical items involving earth or sonic energy. Alternatively, consonite crystals can be used as a powerful but fragile blade. A consonite choir’s body can be used to make 1d4+1 consonite crystal weapons with a successful DC 25 Craft (stoneworking) check. Each weapon must deal slashing or piercing damage and is treated as both having the thundering weapon enhancement and the fragile property. Weapon enhancements remove the fragile quality, as is usual for fragile materials.Consonite choirs see such usage of the bodies of their fellows as ghoulish.

Consonite Choir CR 13 XP 25,600 N Tiny outsider (earth, elemental, extraplanar, swarm) Init +9; Senses blindsight 120 ft., darkvision 60 ft., Perception +17 Aura resonant (30 ft.) Defense AC 27, touch 18, flat-footed 21 (+2 size, +5 Dex, +1 dodge, +9 natural) hp 202 (15d10+120) Fort +13, Ref +16, Will +13 Immune swarm traits Defensive Abilities half damage from piercing or slashing weapons; Weakness vulnerable to area of effects Offense Speed 10 ft., fly 40 ft. (average) Melee swarm (3d6 plus 3d6 sonic plus deafness) Ranged crystal missile +22/+17/+12 (1d6 plus 3d6 sonic) Statistics Str 11, Dex 21, Con 27, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 22 Base Atk +15; CMB -; CMD 28 (cannot be tripped) Feats Acrobatic, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Mobility, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot Skills Acrobatics +24, Fly +28, Perception +17, Perform (sing) +25, Stealth +20; Racial Modifiers +4 Perfom (sing), -8 Stealth Languages Terran Ecology Environment any land or underground (Plane of Earth) Organization solitary or band (2-6) Treasure incidental (see above) Special Abilities Blindsight (Ex) A consonite choir’s blindsight is based on sound. If it is deafened, it cannot use this ability. Crystal Missile (Ex) A consonite choir can fire shards of its body as iterative attacks. Treat each as a thrown ranged weapon with a range increment of 120 feet. A creature struck by a crystal missile takes 1d6 points of damage and 3d6 points of sonic damage. Deafness (Ex) A creature that takes damage from a consonite choir’s swarm attack must succeed a DC 23 Fortitude save or be deafened for 1d4+1 rounds. This is a sonic effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Resonant Aura (Su) A consonite choir’s chiming causes weapons made of stone or metal to resonate. All metal or stone manufactured weapons, and the natural weapons of creatures made of metal or stone, deal an additional 1d6 points of sonic damage while within 30 feet of a consonite choir. These benefits are already included in the consonite choir’s statistics.

#consonite choir #elemental #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder 2e #swarm

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angelicwriter31 · 1 month ago

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PMDD, Losing Weight & Getting Healthier

TUE 08 OCT

This started as a way to track my symptoms I've been experiencing with very bad periods. I believed strongly I had PMDD so I did what the doctors recommended and started journalling, keeping a log and tracking all the symptoms I've been experiencing.

I also started following lots of PMDD instagram accounts and implementing the tips they recommended and I found this month has been one of the best in terms of symptoms.

I started exercising more consistently - 5km on the stationery bike everyday, taking magnesium supplements, taking a multivitamin, managing stress, eating more fibre and protein and less refined sugar.

A side-effect of these lifestyle changes is some weight loss, more or less unintentionally. And also, unfortunately, feeling delusional. My PMS and period symptoms have been alleviated quite a lot that I started to think I never had PMDD? I don't know. I am not going to question it because I never had a diagnosis, I am just going to be grateful that I am feeling better and continually try to work on becoming healthier.

Maybe I can switch over to using this little diary to track my health and diet and exercise!

I am happy enough with how my body looks, I no longer have that self-consciousness I did as a teenager. I am full grown woman and not everyday I feel great about how I look but I practise body-neutrality. I am grateful to my body for making my life happen, for supporting me and carrying me through my 20s into my 30s.

With that in mind, I want to become the strongest I've ever been to prepare myself for the rest of my life. I want to be mobile and able as I continue to age. I want my organs to be able to support me, I want my bones and muscles to be strong! I want my mind to be sharp and most of all I want to feel confident that I can always have my independence at any age!

I'm feeling motivated and inspired already, so here's to achieving goals!

-Angel <3

#journaling #writing #mental health #pmdd #health & fitness #healthylifestyle #weight loss

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miracleplanthealth · 4 months ago

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Miracle Plant Uncovered: Your Path to Optimal Health & Wellness

In the hustle and bustle of modern life, prioritizing health and wellness can sometimes feel overwhelming. But with Miracle Plant, a trademarked product from PRIME BRANDS, achieving optimal health has never been easier. Specializing in daily essentials and premium add-ons, Miracle Plant offers a range of organic supplements designed to support your overall well-being. Let’s explore why Miracle Plant is a must-have in your health regimen.

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#Health #Wellness #Nutrition #Vegan #Organic #Supplements #Miracle Plant #Prime Brands

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sac-bestsupplements · 8 months ago

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Creatine Benefits: What is it good for? The Shocking Effects of Monohydrate Powder & Pills Revealed

Discover our top 10 best creatine supplements ranking: https://super-achiever.com/best-creatine-supplements

Read more on our website: https://super-achiever.com/creatine-benefits

#creatine #creatinebenefits #creatinemonohydrate

Hey there, Achiever Fam! 🌟 Today's video is all about the wonders of creatine, the go-to supplement for athletes and health enthusiasts globally. 🏋️‍♂️🏃‍♀️ If you're curious about how it can boost your fitness and brainpower, you're in the right place! Don't forget to hit that subscribe button for more awesome content from the Super Achievers Club. Let’s dive in! 💥 Why Creatine? Ever wondered why creatine is a favorite among athletes? We're breaking down its incredible benefits, from muscle growth to mental sharpness. 🤔💪 Muscle Growth: It’s not just for show; creatine is a key player in muscle development, increasing cell volumization and accelerating protein synthesis for real muscle growth. 🏋️‍♂️💧 Enhanced Strength: More than just muscle size, creatine significantly boosts strength and power, translating to more effective workouts and daily life activities. 🏆🏋️‍♀️ Improved Exercise Performance: Creatine isn't limited to the gym; it enhances performance in various sports by replenishing ATP for longer, more intense activities. 🚴‍♂️🏊‍♀️ Cognitive Benefits: It’s brain fuel too! Creatine improves memory and reduces mental fatigue, ideal for those in demanding mental jobs or studying for exams. 🧠⚡ The Science Behind Creatine: At the heart of its power is phosphocreatine, crucial for rapid ATP replenishment in muscles, leading to increased strength and endurance.

🧪🔬 Who Should Use Creatine? Not just for athletes! It’s great for endurance sports, older adults, physically demanding jobs, and anyone looking to boost brain function. 🤸‍♂️👵👨‍💼 Creatine Caution: While generally safe, it’s not suitable for everyone. Those with health conditions, pregnant or breastfeeding women, and adolescents should consult a doctor first. 🚨👩‍⚕️ There you have it!

Creatine isn’t just a muscle-building supplement; it’s a versatile power-up for your body and mind. 🌟🏋️‍♀️🧠 Have you tried creatine? Share your experience in the comments below! And remember to subscribe for more empowering content. Catch you in the next video! 📹👋

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dantomasik · 1 year ago

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Enishi vs Kenshin's Foes

The Final Arc of Rurouni Kenshin introduced us to a villain who seemingly did the impossible, defeating Kenshin. Yukishiro Enishi bested the greatest swordsman in the world, and he did so handily. His swordsmanship style seemed capable of perfectly countering Kenshin's every move, including his Ultimate Technique. Here's the thing. This does not make Enishi the greatest swordsman in the world. Enishi is so hyperfixated on revenge against Kenshin that it consumes his every waking thought, reflected in his sword style, Watojutsu, a self-taught Chinese style that is exclusively offensive/aggressive, with, as Enishi himself states, no defense because Kenshin took away the only thing he ever wished to defend.

This is the difference between his style and Kenshin's. Kenshin's Hiten Mitsurugi is built around pitting one against many, thus it specializes in groups. Enishi's Watojutsu is solely focused on obliterating one opponent, with that opponent specifically being Kenshin and Hiten Mitsurugi. This means it is considerably less effective against other styles and other opponents. So, I thought it would be fun to do a little mental exercise and pit Enishi against the various foes Kenshin has faced or who could pose a potentially deadly threat to him.

First off, let's do a quick summary of Enishi as a swordsman.

It's safe to call him a "master swordsman", meaning anyone less than another master swordsman doesn't have a chance against him. Thus, even his worst skills still have some merit. His offense is insane. Considering it's what he puts everything into, it's safe to call it his highest stat. His defense, meanwhile, would be his lowest stat. He frequently covers up for this by relying on his offense to counter and overpower any move that comes his way, but this doesn't work against being countered himself. His speed is also top tier, although (with one notable exception) most master swordsmen have relatively similar top speeds. He has a remarkable catalog of techniques for every possible move that could be used against him, and supplements many of them with kicks that add in that extra OOMPH. He also has what we can basically consider "mind over body", meaning his body won't register pain or injuries unless he wants it to. This grants him superb endurance, but against opponents who strike to kill, that only helps so much. Lastly, he has an ace in the hole in the form of his Frenzied Nerves that can render him nigh-unstoppable. How much he can utilize them is unclear, as they seem specifically linked towards his hatred of Kenshin.

Udo Jine

The earliest foe we could consider truly deadly, Jine fought for the Shinsengumi during Bakumatsu, killing many people, including quite a few people he wasn't supposed to kill, prompting his commanding officer to discipline him. Well, attempt to discipline him, Jine killed them too, then disappeared, resurfacing on the side of the Revolutionists. After the end of Bakumatsu, Jine would continue his massive killing spree into Meiji, sending letters declaring his intentions to prominent political figures. These targets would use their positions to hire guards & security, which Jine would happily slaughter. His fight with Kenshin is all about bringing out the manslayer he once was during Bakumatsu, the manslayer even Jine feared. With 10 years of killing under his belt, Jine's skills have remained as sharp as they were during Bakumatsu when legends were made on the edge of a sword.

Jine's style seems focused on killing a lot of people, mostly small-time thugs and police officers. This does not mean he cannot keep up with or even surpass Kenshin's level of skill. Jine spent most of their duels trying to make Kenshin fight harder, more like the killer he once was. He bragged he could kill Kenshin as he currently was in a matter of 1-3 cigarettes time. His Ultimate Technique allowed him to paralyze opponents or, alternatively, psych himself up into a nigh-invincible warrior. He is also a crazed psychopath who can shrug off most wounds, fears nothing, and experiences pure ecstasy while killing people. Without doubt a master killing machine.

Result: Maybe

This one is close enough that I feel like it could go either way. Enishi definitely has the willpower to shrug off Jine's Paralysis (hell, Sano did). In terms of fighting him, Enishi excels in countering attacks with stronger attacks. Jine's style is also purely offensive, but has the flexibility that Enishi lacks. We watch him turn a disruption instantly into a surprise attack on Kenshin, which would be utterly devastating against Watojutsu. As far as his Shin no Ippo power-up, I'd be curious to see it go up against Enishi's Frenzied Nerves, but have a feeling Enishi would win. Even powered-up, Jine lost to Kenshin's pre-Ultimate Technique battojutsu, meaning Enishi, who dodged the actual Ultimate Technique without his Frenzied Nerves, would absolutely be faster. Stronger, that's a different story, and we don't really know how much stronger Jine's power-up makes him, as he is defeated before it can land a blow. We did watch him casually turn a rock into rubble, though, so that's pretty scary.

Jine's ability to counter disruptive moves is ideal for taking advantage of Enishi's weakness, and since neither one cares who the other is, both will just try to kill each other until one dies. Both are durable as a result of having f***ed up brains that don't care about pain, both are quick, and both have powerful offense.

Shinomori Aoshi

Next up we have the leader of the Oniwabanshu, Shinomori Aoshi. This is a very different matchup from Jine. Aoshi has been fighting since he was a child, taking down other spies at 13 and leading the Oniwabanshu by age 15. He definitely qualifies as "gifted". Aoshi has proven himself one of Kenshin's strongest rivals, and has come unnervingly close to killing Kenshin multiple times.

Aoshi's skills are as deadly as they get. His single kodachi grants him an almost impenetrable defense, allowing him to then rain down martial arts blows on opponents. Coupled with fluid movements that are impossible to track, his opponents are left waiting for him to strike. As for his offense, he utilizes surprisingly few offensive sword techniques, but when he goes in for the kill, you die. Adding in his second kodachi only makes him deadlier. One factor that cannot be overlooked, Aoshi may not have superhuman durability, but that is because he is so rarely hit he doesn't need it.

Result: Loss

Enishi will lose to Aoshi. Enishi's insane offense can bash away at Aoshi's insane defense all day and never get a blow in. Enishi's greatest skill is in countering techniques with stronger techniques, but this works best against opponents with a wide catalog of offensive moves, rather than a single one designed for guaranteed fatality. His kicks can add a lot of damage, but Aoshi can dodge effortlessly. Plus, against an actual martial arts master like Aoshi, he'll get schooled like a kid in sparring class. Furthermore, when Aoshi moves in for the kill with either of his offensive techniques, Enishi's Ultimate Technique may get lucky against Kaiten Kenbu, but not against Kaiten Kenbu Rokuren. Enishi will be chopped into mincemeat. His Frenzied Nerves may help, but Aoshi's style is built around defense & evasion, using only a single deadly offensive technique (with variants depending on the number of swords used) that can turn a group of men into a pile of limbs in less than a second.

Saito Hajime

Former Captain of the 3rd Shinsengumi Unit, Saito Hajime is another strong contender for the title of Kenshin's greatest rival. They've been enemies since Bakumatsu, and their first fight in Meiji is truly terrifying to watch. They simply do not make swordsmen like Saito Hajime anymore. According to him, the skills that have allowed him to survive countless wars & conflicts are no longer even known in the present day. He has lived through more bloodshed than even other master swordsmen will see in their entire lives, and has superb endurance that comes not from any special technique, but from his sheer, unrelenting desire to bring Swift Death to Evil.

As for his technique, the way of the Shinsengumi was to hone a single attack to the realm of perfection, the methodology being that it is exceedingly rare to face the same opponent multiple times in life or death battles. If you have one move guaranteed to kill your opponent, why would you need any others? Saito's Gatotsu is the most powerful thrusting attack a swordsman can face. Can't be blocked or countered, it turns into a slash & kick if dodged, and it has monstrous destructive power. The only thing scarier than facing it, is facing it again after it's carved into you.

Result: Loss

Enishi simply has no chance against the Gatotsu. Powerful as his techniques are, none of them has destructive power comparable to it. And if Enishi cannot counter a move with something stronger, he dies. This is a short analysis because that's really all there is to fighting Saito. You either have a defense that can weaken the Gatotsu, or you lose. There is no counter against it, and Enishi would never come up with the defensive strategies that have allowed Saito's opponents to survive as long as they did.

I like to think this is why Enishi surrendered to Saito in the live action movie after kicking the sh*t out of all the police officers on the train. Once Saito takes his sword stance, Enishi either surrenders or he dies.

Usui, the Blind Sword

Kenshin never fought Usui, but Saito did, and that's good enough for me. Usui fought during Bakumatsu as an anti-Hitokiri, basically killing the killers. He had his eyes carved out by Shishio Makoto, but developed hyper-sensitive hearing and eventually became one of the deadliest members of Shishio's Ten Swords, with the understanding that he can attempt to kill people (and Shishio) as much as he desires.

Usui has two fighting styles, one utilizing his spear/mace and another combining a shortened spear and turtle shield. His defense & senses are powerful enough to disrupt the Gatotsu, allowing him to weaken his foes until he goes in for a killing stab. What his style lacks in power, it makes up in defense and calculated bloodletting.

Result: Win

Maybe it's just how quickly Usui melted under Saito's cruel words, but I'm fairly confident Enishi could destroy him. With his offense, especially punctuated by his kicks, he could most likely break down Usui's defense, which worked best against a single big technique like Saito's, not a variety like Enishi's arsenal. Add in that Usui's offense is mostly for weakening foes (a strategy that won't work on Enishi's mind over body), and he is simply a poor matchup for our angry white-haired friend.

Seta Sojiro

Remember when I mentioned there was one notable exception to master swordsmen having relatively similar top speeds? That exception would be Sojiro. With his style of "speed that does not appear in sight" he is without question the fastest swordsman in the entire series (even faster than Kenshin). His permanent smiling face offers no emotions to read, making his movements almost impossible to anticipate, and his skill with the sword can be considered equal to Kenshin's, which is terrifying. This teenage boy is a killing machine. His Ultimate Technique is called "You Die Instantly" (I'm paraphrasing, but only barely) and lives up to that threat.

Result: Loss

When you can't even follow your opponent's movements, that's when you die. Enishi might do well enough as Sojiro warms up, but once he reaches top speed Enishi will drop like a pile of limbs. Frenzied Nerves or not. You cannot counter what you cannot see, and if you can't defend yourself you just get cut to ribbons. That's all there is.

Fuji

The 30ft+ tall kaiju-esque swordsman Fuji fought Kenshin's master and lived. Fuji can destroy buildings with a single swing, and his destructive power & speed only increases once he takes off his armor. You basically need to be a God or a Battleship to fight Fuji.

Result: Win

Here's the thing, Enishi is fast enough to dodge Fuji. Even if Enishi had a defense it wouldn't work against Fuji's power, but with enough time and successful hits Enishi could wear the titan down. Will definitely take some damage from the sheer collateral of Fuji's swings, but that's what mind over body is for. Fuji might be the only master swordsman with a worse defense than Enishi, mostly because he so rarely fights anyone who doesn't sh*t their pants immediately upon seeing him.

Shishio Makoto

The assassin who succeeded Kenshin during Bakumatsu, Shishio Makoto didn't do it for morals, he did it to showcase his strength. After the revolution, he was knocked out by a blow to the head from his allies, then doused in gasoline and set on fire to make sure he stayed down. And then he didn't. That should give you a pretty good idea of how durable and driven Shishio Makoto is. His fight with Kenshin later includes both Saito & Aoshi (and Sano, briefly), and he is quite decisively kicking all of their asses on his own. Even after taking what was effectively a grenade to the face, even after going well passed the limit his body can tolerate, even after receiving Kenshin's Ultimate Ultimate Attack, Shishio kept getting up to continue fighting. He only stopped after his flesh literally ignited via spontaneous human combustion, reducing him to ashes.

Shishio is one of the most powerful swordsmen ever to live. His sword catches fire, his gauntlets explode, he can catch a sword with his fingertips if it's a technique he's seen before, he can out-react a point-blank Gatotsu, block Kenshin's Ultimate Technique, knock out Sano in a single punch, and take more punishment than anyone with 3rd degree burns all over their body should be capable of sustaining for an extended period of time. His sheer strength is only outclassed by Fuji, and that's only because Fuji is over 30 goddamn feet tall.

Result: Loss

Enishi is about to get a very rude awakening as to what a true devil is like. Enishi, for all of his strength & offensive prowess, still cannot hold a candle to Shishio. Even if his mind over body helps mitigate the nasty combination of burning & slashing wounds Shishio's sword inflicts, he will never overpower Shishio and never counter him. Furthermore, as Shishio proves capable of catching Kenshin's sword mid-attack when he attempts to use a technique Shishio has already seen, so too can any of Enishi's moves be countered. Enishi has no defense against gauntlet grenades, and even his Ultimate Technique won't work against Shishio's because crouching low to the ground won't prevent him getting incinerated by the downward slash. Even if Enishi could get in some blows against Shishio, his obscene amount of endurance will render it moot.

#ruroken #rurouni kenshin #enishi #kenshin #shishio #jine #aoshi #saito #usui #sojiro #fuji #duel #fan theory

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