#knifeslash

[dracononite]

FLASH‼️ HALLOWEEN SALE 🔪🩸

Until Nov 3rd, use the discount code KNIFESLASH at checkout to "slash" 30% OFF all items in my shop!

this sale INCLUDES digital items! Now is the perfect time to grab some bases if you've been eyeing them

and GUESS WHAT⁉️ this sale extends to all unsold adopts 👀 even the Adoptober designs! find them for sale on my Toyhouse

[heepthecheep]

I know next to nothing about Trigun but I love how the characters seemingly have Warrior Cat names. But instead of being named after something in nature and psychical traits they're named after weapons and violence. They'll be some anime dude and his name will be like...Murderhands. Gunblood. Harshkiller. Knifeslash or something like that

[brackenfur]

knifekit/knifepaw/knifeslash/knifestar.

[silvysartfulness]

13, 16, 8, 5 for the WIP meme

13: Your characters are stranded on a deserted island. What happens?

I already answered this in a previous post, but...

16: What would your characters be for Halloween?

Same with this one, and I'm not drawing it. I'm already spending so much time on these asks instead of writnig, I'll never get anything done. XD

8: What is your biggest challenge?

Executive dysfunction, oof.  Actually getting myself to a point where I sit down, get my brain in gear and start writing. Some days it's such an uphill battle, I just can't do it.

Once started, it's usually easier to keep going, but working up that momentum. It's super-hard.

For the writing itself, that would be the language, I think? English isn't my first language, and even though I'm fluent, I do trip up sometimes, lose words, having to think about proper sentence structure etc. 95% of the time, it flows without problem, but when I'm tired or just low on spoons, every single word is a struggle. Suffice to say, thesaurus.com is a life-saver.

5: Search for the word “knife” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

There was something nasty about Xue Yang's knifeslash smile, but Xingchen just shook his head in mild exasperation, still smiling, allowing the delinquent to lead the way ahead.

Does that count? It doesn't really count, does it.

“I have a knife!” the hawker managed after a few false starts, fumbling at his belt and drawing out a rather big and ugly-looking knife, jagged edge rusty with a friendly promise of gangrene. Xue Yang just laughed, madly, delighted, and leaned in further, crowding the terrified man ever further back.

Xue Yang enjoys haggling. The person he's haggling with does not.

Tugging his glove back on with his teeth after the impromptu surgery session, Xue Yang let the small knife he'd flung into his hand at the commotion slip back into the folds of the qiankun pockets and stepped up beside Xiao Xingchen to stare down the intruders.

Xue Yang has picked up some handy odds and ends along the way - which no one else needs to know about, really.

The baby cultivators squealed like piglets under the knife, breaking apart from each other in panic, their robes ensnared by dead fingers.

Hmm, a bit spoilery, so won't give much context for that one. ^__^

Thank you so much for asking! :D

[guttergodsknife]

(🚬) My muse catches your muse doing late night smoking.

Tall spires and curved domes cut a dark silhouette against the river of stars that runs above Ul'dah. The city is shrouded in darkness yet twinkling with the warm glow of a thousand lanterns, kept burning through the night to ward nocturnal terrors away from slumbering citizens.

Rashk sits perched on the edge of a rooftop, an arm slung across a thigh, a blunt dangled between his fingertips. He loves the night; watching the darkened city and its constellations of light allows him to pretend, if only for a moment, that the Desert Jewel is worth its name.

He isn't alone in admiring the city from above. He startles at a sudden, purred greeting from behind, spoken in a distinctive accent he hasn't been able to place.

No sound of footsteps and an approach from downwind—wouldn’t expect any less. His tail is bristling as he rises and spins to face the taller Keeper, balancing dangerously on the edge of the roof while one sharp grin meets another knifeslash smile.

"Blue!" he greets cheerfully, like they've run into each other at the markets instead of here, skulking on rooftops like thieves. This one, with his long daggers and hot scent of violence, would not be a good enemy to make.

"Might send a man tumbling off a building, showing up like that," Rashk continues, the cadence of his voice rising and falling in a musical lilt. "But since you're here ... fancy a smoke?"

[rainbowishere-fr]

Knifeslasher.  Shes ready to chop your face.

[safeinternational]

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You can't defend against a knife, fist or any weapon from this distance with your hands down. If you can't see all 10 digits and you're in a confrontation, you better create distance between you and them real quick, as in run like hell or close the gap real quick and do damage! www.safeinternational.biz #safeinternational #selfdefense #selfdefence #richarddimiti #learnselfdefense #teachselfdefense #knife #knifeattack #instaselfdefense #knifeviolence #violence #stabbing #defendyourself #knifevideo #proximity #selfdefense101 #selfdefencetoronto #selfdefenseinstructors #selfdefense4you #martialartsgermany #bleedout #slash #knifeslash @rich.senshido.dimitri #confrontation #toolofviolence #preparedness #precontactcues https://www.instagram.com/p/BtH1FJCgGR4/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1jkjug1bj7xhb

[twiexmachina]

This *sweats* is.......um.....an exercise in voice......in mimicking a style that is different than my own......and um.....practice at writing in first person.  (And going what the fuck why did I decide to write Lucio this was a horrible idea)

There was a time when I was afraid of him, when we first met, when he was a voice in an empty room, when he was a shadow flickering on the walls.  He was a nightmare then, and his touch brought hot fear, boiling adrenaline.  I felt ashy fingers down my throat and choked on it.

That was a long time ago.  Lucio stands before me now, the flickering flames making his shadow dance on the wall in shapes that do not startle me.  His eyes have never stopped being piercing.  When I am in his gaze, it is like fire scorching, all consuming, and when he looks at me I know I have his full attention.  It’s a heavy weight, a gaze born from power and strength and comfort from there.  But it’s also heavy because it’s so full of want, of need, of lust, and the burn of his gaze scorches deep.

The fingers of Lucio’s prothetic trace my jaw.  I remember my nightmare again.  Perhaps that wouldn’t be too different.  But I have no fear now.  The only heat is the flush on my skin, the heartbeat that feels like beckoning.  The pointed claws of his fingers brush along my lip.  It’s sharp enough to sting, but there’s no pain.  The gold is calming, cool where my skin is hot.  I flick my tongue out and lick his fingers.  It just tastes like metal, bitter, bland, but Lucio’s eyes widen and his smile splits further to show his teeth and his enthusiasm is sweet.  He takes the slight parting of my lips as an invitation and teases a finger into my mouth.  

His finger tastes different when it’s actually in my mouth.  The metal is somehow sweet, even though it rightly shouldn’t be.  (“It’s gold,” I can hear him say, proud, with a wide knifeslash of a grin, bragging as his arm catches the light, “there is nothing purer than it.” I think it might just be Lucio.) I push my tongue up against his finger, wanting more of him into my mouth.  The tip of his claw scratches my tongue, almost enough pain that I can’t find joy on it.

“Easy,” he whispers, his breath whistling past his teeth.  “Don’t hurt yourself, pet.” He eases my mouth open, staring as his finger sits on my tongue.  “Let me.”

I make a small noise, like the cooing of a dove and Lucio hums.  His other hand sides up my back, tender even as another finger pushes into my mouth.  His fingers trace the hairs at the back of my neck, then he twists his fingers into my hair and pulls back.  It stings, but only a bit.  It feels more like an invitation rather than a demand, and I oblige, tilting my head back, back.  “Good,” Lucio purrs, “So good, so pretty.  Beautiful.”

My lips twitch around his fingers.  They are too loose, slack, and I curl them around his fingers and suck gently.  Lucio groans and more soft praises slip from his lips as his fingers push further down.  They enter my throat and I choke.  Tears spark in the corner of my eyes and I reach out to grab Lucio’s silk shirt, knuckles pressing against his stomach.  Lucio watches me carefully, but I don’t give any signs for him to stop.  This is still good, and I can feel him breathe, slow, strong.  “So good,” he mutters.  “You’re doing so well, pet.” He pulls his fingers out a bit, cool gold slick with saliva, then pushes it back into my mouth.  It’s slow, aching, and my fingers twitch as my blood pounds a steady drumbeat in my ears.  I can’t make much sound, but I make quiet noises, moans and whimpers, which Lucio praises.

His fingers push deeper and those tears that clung to my eyelashes slip down my cheeks.  “Oh pet, don’t worry, just a bit longer.” He leans in and kisses one of the tears.  “Can you last?”

I make a small noise and nod.

“Good.  Keep your head back, pet.” He tugs on my hair and I follow his orders.  He only thrusts a couple more times before he tells me to open my mouth and slips his fingers out.  “How was that?” Lucio asks, his voice purring in his throat.

“I enjoyed it,” I say, and my voice creaks.

Lucio tuts and rubs my throat.  “That’s good.  You were so lovely.” He steps aside for just a moment and wipes his hand clean.  He returns in an instant. his hands falling on my waist.  “Well now that the foreplay is done, now we can have some real fun.” He bends down and rubs his nose along my neck, breath tickling so gently and his grin against my skin is hot.  “Dance with me, won’t you pet?”

[silvysartfulness]

How about... knife?

Hmm, I have a faint memory of already having posted some sentences with “knife” for a previous WIP-game? But here we go!

There was something nasty about Xue Yang's knifeslash smile, but Xingchen just shook his head in mild exasperation, still smiling, allowing the delinquent to lead the way ahead.

“I have a knife!” the hawker managed after a few false starts, fumbling at his belt and drawing out a rather big and ugly-looking knife, jagged edge rusty with a friendly promise of gangrene.

“I could go to another stall,” Xue Yang said pleasantly, rhythmically flicking his nails at the quivering knife in front of his face with a dull ringing sound.

Tugging his glove back on with his teeth after the impromptu surgery session, Xue Yang let the small knife he'd flung into his hand at the commotion slip back into the folds of the qiankun pockets and stepped up beside Xiao Xingchen to stare down the intruders.

The baby cultivators squealed like piglets under the knife, breaking apart from each other in panic, their robes ensnared by dead fingers.

------

Thank you so much for playing! :D

[guttergodsknife]

🌺 from Idris

"Idristan, hm? I do appreciate his sense of fashion; he dresses like a mourner and acts like the funeral might be his own. But I suppose his ... grouchy attitude is rather understandable, all things considered." Rashk looks thoughtful, turning a blade in his hands while flames crackle in the fireplace. 

"... And while some might make comments about the path to the Hells being paved with good intentions, it's better to try than give in to despair. I believe he has integrity and can resist temptation." His smile is knifeslash sharp in the dark room. "And he is a delightfully entertaining source of gossip, of course."

@apassingshadow

[guttergodsknife]

💔 6. a kiss as a warning. (For Eight)

I want to be your secret hater

Another smoky bar brings a familiar shadow, a knifeslash grin in the dark and a warm arm thrown around Rashk’s shoulders like they are friends, his shadow and him.

He reverses the grip, backs Eight into a wall and holds him there like they’re intimate, bodies pressed together near the blurred, flickering line between light and dark.

The other patrons avert their eyes and miss the claws that slide over a pale cheek, miss the sharp tip of a stiletto nail pointing straight at a winter pale eye.

“You seem to be under the impression that this won't end in pain,” Rashk whispers and then presses a kiss to the corner of Eight’s mouth, leaving his mark as a promise, as a warning.

@klynk-klank @eights-of-spades