#tanto dagger

[c---crow]

glamour shot

[kultofathena]

Hanwei – Tactical Tanto

[pabloknives]

[orange-artist]

KNY Time Travel AU

Notes about time travel au (hashira kamaboko squad):

Tanjiro

He learned that the longer his hair was the more pissed Muzan gets so he let's it grow out. However he can't handle it too long so it's stays a little over shoulder length and he ties it up

Mastered sun breathing and tried out the other breathing forms to make up for the fact he learned through unconventional means. Aka. He knows moves from all the other forms

A little bit of demon blood in him because of his brief (attempted) possession. Enough to cause him to be slightly more demonic than humans. Heals faster.

Zenitsu

Still wails and whines but mostly performatively

Will gear shift in an instant to seieous mode and it's terrifying to witness

Wasn't able to master the other forms of thunder breathing so he modified into his own style raiden (lit. Thunder and Lightning) aka Thunderstorm breathing to fill in the gaps.

Nezuko once complimented him about his long hair and he's committed to that ever since

Inosuke

Eventually realized people kept thinking he was a demon when he wore the mask so they compromised and he wear it on his shoulder now. He still occasionally wears it.

Had a brief obsession with learning all the manners so he can disregard them on purpose

He's learned to consider consequences, not that he spend a lot of time doing that but still

Got coerced into wearing a bit more cover ups by the squad a la goading and compliments

Nezuko

Half human half demon, wasn't fully cured

She tried to learn a breathing style and managed to somewhat grasp water and flower but she's not as talented as tanjiro in sword fighting

In a fight, she prefers tantos and daggers, if not directly hand to hand

She excels in tactics, the team eventually realized she should be planning the fights

She is able to control all the boys, no one questions the Nezuko

Genya

Thanks to Nezuko's antibodies and Tamayo's efforts, he's okay when he uses his abilities

While not able to use a breathing style still, he's made up for it by training and skills. He's making a mostly a marksman of the group, with phenomenal aim and wisteria bullets made by Kanao

Full mastery over his abilities and is able to control how much power it uses and how long it lasts

Wears Sanemi's outfit…

Lowkey kinda died but managed to get revived…🤔

Kanao

Emulates Kanae and Shinobu to an extent but she's more open about how she's feeling

Changed her cape into a floral orchid haori

She still has her coin but it's mostly for cool factor™️ now

Learned medical and poisons and demonology eventually

worked with Yushiro to try and develop a cure for the curse of the demon slayer marks

Hehhehehe thoughts?

[fantasy-fields-bitty-center]

I am here to now take one of each of your Utah raptors, the Javelin being in the mini size and the rest in full size! ^^

With these being free to adopt you may have them! Note that this person wanted this as a date marker and not a scenario! 10/2/2022

[neoplatinum]

i choose you - part 3 | minatozaki sana

summary: a darkness in sana's past comes back into light

pairing: heiress!sana x reader

themes: blood, murder, gore, knives, arranged marriage au, fluff, angst, tension, lots of elitism, conglomerate power-hungry side characters, implied sex, misamo!

wc: 5.9k

(series masterlist)

you stare at her as she stares at you back. the eyes of a woman who's held her domain for decades, bursting in power through the new age of technology. her eyes are still as sharp as ever, despite her age. it's how she's kept her power for so long.

long brushes of the tea cup lid against the cup, nursing a cup of sencha. 

"tell me, how devoted are you to the mintaozaki clan." she continues to swirl the tea in the porcelain cup. her eyes never leaving yours. 

you stare at her, but also to take a glance at the elders of the minatozaki clan all staring at you. strong eyes and the crest pinned to their delicate fabrics.

momo and mina are sat on the second row of chairs lining the edges of the room. various council advisors and distant family members sat in the back corners as well.

"i would lay my life on the line for the minatozakis." she stops her swirling. the gentle drop of the lid back onto the cup as she sets it down next to her.

with the flick of her wrist, a man shuffles towards, head bowed as he hands her a folder. the sound of papers being flipped through while you keep your eyes trained on the floor. 

all around are eyes peering in, a dare. they stare, daring you to make any sign of weakness, you keep your eyes unwavering as you wait. it's so quiet that an outsider would expect no one in this room. you can even hear the faint sound of wind outside.

"let me rephrase. would you survive for the minatozaki clan." she places the paper down. eyes instantly back on you. 

"until my last dying breath. i would utter it for the minatozaki name." you say, staring at her with intensity of a thousand flames. you think of sana, of haruto and hanako. the person you have become since being part of the family.

the matriach leans back into her chair. and you stare, for any sign of emotion. the way her eyes remain neutral and unchanging, hands comfortably laying on her lap. her feet tucked together and that large pendant on her neck.

"understood." another flick of the wrist. a different man walks forward, head bowed just like the last. 

his head low as he presents a tanto with both hands. the six inch double edged blade. a long dagger, sheathed in dark brown wooden scabbard. 

lined with the proud name of the minatozaki clan in hiragana, etched into the layered metal. she holds it within her palms, unsheathing it and holding it out.

"do you know of the etching tradition?" she says as she feels for the blade, the tip piercing enough of her skin to let out a drip of blood. she wraps it into a cloth as she goes back to staring at you.

"no, i do not." you've never even heard of the tradition to begin with. eyeing sana from the corner of your eye but she keeps her eyes focused on her mother.

"present." and then the cacophony of hands folding up their arm sleeves, and the turning of their forearm towards the matriarch, you can barely see it, but it's there. the scarred skin in the symbol of the minatozaki crest, just in the center of everyone's right forearm.

a glance to your right, and you notice it on sana's forearm, it's always been there. even in the curiosity you never asked, always wondering how she had a perfect scarring of her family name. the way it stretches across her arm, like a branding. 

like an imprint of being in a cult, you look back at the matriarch.

upon her forearm, the same name is etched deeply, a long stretch of scars lining around it, never touching the name directly. the room all around you, are filled with minatozakis, each and everyone one of them.

"the minatozaki name will be etched into your skin. do not show weakness." the matriarch calls you forth, you rise to your feet, making quick steps to her. kneeling before her as you present your arm, to which she gently rubs over.

the tanto digs into your arm, and you grind your teeth willing the pain away as the tip of the blade drags along the skin. clean and sharp lines that are moving like brush strokes on a painting. 

you grip onto your pants for a distraction to shift the pain. the burning and sweating sensation making you tremble a little. you will it away when you feel the blade lift up suddenly. 

"breathe." you can hear sana's voice behind you, calming the pain brewing all over your body. 

letting out a held breath that's been burning your lungs. a reminder that this pain is temporary, the breathing chills the burning sensation in your head. 

the final mark is laid upon your skin, and you can feel yourself feeling faint, holding onto the floor to keep your body upright. you feel the blade lift off your skin, the sound of the blade being cleaned, while you stare at the pool of blood on the marbled floor, dripping and seeping underneath your shoe. 

"rise." she speaks. you stand up, letting the blood continue to run down your arm. 

the ringing in your ears gets louder and louder. she speaks of tradition, the value of the name across your arm. all eyes continue to stare you down, eyes like steel. 

"this blade, has etched every minatozaki in this room, and those that have been laid to rest. this blade, will continue to etch into the minatozaki clan for future generations." you stare at the blade now in your hand, only seconds ago tearing your skin apart and being branded as the family's new pawn.

"to a new generation." she says as she hands it over, the drippings of your blood still across the double beveled edge. you stare at the blade, the weight of it, the memories of each person etched. it's heavier than you expected. 

generations of minatozaki's all carved into submission. you begin to feel it, stirring low in your subconscious, you need more.

--

every night in the dark study, you stare at the name. forever in your skin, and upon your body. a sign that you are now a minatozaki, even years spent becoming a figurehead didn't sear the idea until now. 

the scarring has scabbed over and begun to heal, into that perfect shape of the name. 

sana's been telling you stories about her late father, the patriarch of the minatozaki clan before he was assassinated by the abe clan. the abe's who wanted his land, his ability to rule over japan.

stories of his strict rulings, his inability to feel remorse, his lack of fear. his dictatorship under his ship, even more fierce than his father. 

the golden age of the minatozaki clan.

you often visit the matriarch, learning family secrets that wouldn't be uttered under broad daylight. understanding the inner workings of a regime that's lasted centuries.

more so, you've been trained by the matriarch to take over the next generation for the minatozaki's. receiving training in the philanthropy for public image, but also training on how to take out an enemy without letting a single drop of blood fall.

you can see how the minatozaki's have gotten so far, extremely cautious and calculating, much like other conglomerate group families. as much as you didn't want to be pulled in, here you are. fighting both momo and mina in hand-to-hand combat. 

a swift kick of the leg, and you topple over. the pain of the right hook that momo landed earlier still leaving a stinging in your cheek. you turn over, breathing in and out.

"you're still too slow." momo comments, sitting down with mina doing the same.

you continue to stare at the bright light overhead, the feeling of your heart beating thumping in your ears, the sweat dripping down your body.

"i know." 

mina gets up, grabbing water bottles and passing one to you. you sit up, drinking it as the two woman stare at you.

"why do you do this?" momo starts, a curious question that's been plaguing her mind lately. 

the minatozaki's never asked you to be trained to be the next head of family, but you took it upon yourself to do so. grueling physical training, while learning the arts of the past generations.

mina continues to sip at her water, eyes watching you.

"duty. for sana, for haruto, for hanako." you explain, as much as you didn't want to become a pawn for their family, you care so deeply for the family that you now have, one that you would tear apart the world for.

mina nods, but momo rolls her eyes, "how noble." and with another sip, she gets up again. you begin sparring once more. 

--

rolling your shoulders when you walk into your office, grabbing some soothing oil to rub onto the bruise on your ribs and the smaller bruises along your shoulders. 

you stare at the tanto that now lays in a secret compartment under your desk. the etching tradition still leaves you in a heavy daze these days, how much you have changed all for sana's family. 

when the devil herself walks in.

"you need to fire that assistant of yours." sana walks in, handbag hanging off her arm. glasses perched on her nose bridge, the exhaustion rolling off her words. she seems aggravated. 

"why?" you cock your head to the side.

"she just told me you have a meeting in five, which i mean sure thank you for the information but i seriously don't care." you laugh out, as she crosses her arm. sitting comfortably in the armchair in front of you. 

it seems today is one of those days.

"she's just doing her job." you explain. you liked shoko, she did her job well, often reworking your schedule when you needed her to. and she rarely complained about it, you even gave her a raise recently.

"yeah and i'm doing mine." sana gets up, leaving her bag on the floor and crosses over to you, dropping herself onto your lap.

she takes the glasses off your face. letting it slide across the table. you're about to get up to pick it up, when sana pushes more of her weight onto you. keeping you in your seat.

"last time you just waltzed into one of my 1 on 1 client meetings and sat on my lap the whole time." you point at her, showcasing the same exact behavior.

"yeah, like i said, i'm doing my job." sana says, taking off her sunglasses.

"sana...." you say dejectedly.

"i didn't hear you complaining when you bent me over this table and ate me out the rest of the afternoon." and with that she smashes her lips against yours. 

you completely forget what you were complaining about earlier.

--

"what's your favorite color?" sana's voice is quietly coming through the microphone, she called you multiple times, and texting you urgently nearly ten times. 

you silenced it, only to get a note from your assistant to pick up her calls.

"hmm, green." you say, watching as the shareholders stare you down, waiting for your approval.

without another second, the sound of the call ending comes through, you glance at your phone screen, seeing the call disappear, and a little confused.

"sorry, please continue." you point at the junior executive, he's been trying to get through this presentation without peeing his pants, and really you would like to get through it enough for him to finally calm down.

fifteen minutes later you get multiple pings on your phone.

"so like i said, we expect the project with akira industries to go well-" the junior executive's voice completely drowns out into white noise when you see what's displayed on your screen.

sana baby: attachment: 3 images

sana baby: you like?

your phone screen is filled with green, all three photos illuminating your face in a green hue. 

green lingerie set, green bows tied around her hair, and your dress shirt draped over one. good god, she looks like a vixen. 

photos of her laying across the bed, aimed at the mirror, long legs that stretch across the comforter. gorgeous lithe body framed by that light green corset. pouty lips in a selfie, aimed down at her cleavage.

you nearly curse out loud, instead letting a cough come through at the last second to cover it up.

another message comes through. you lift your phone back up to your face.

sana baby: you come home in thirty and you can take it off with your hands, any later and you do it with your teeth.

--

you're trying to pick out your work outfit for tomorrow, eyes glancing at all the dress shirts that you had hung up in the walk-in closet. you can hear sana faintly humming through the other side of the closet.

"sana..." you pick out one shirt, noticing the pink-ish red color across the collar.

"yes darling?" she says in a light-hearted tone, you see her walk over with her eyes a little playful. her eyes landing on the dress shirt that you have in your hand.

you hold it up to her face.

"why are my dress shirts littered with lipstick marks?" she takes the dress shirt out of your hand, eyeing it with happiness.

"they need to know who you belong to." she says and hands it back to you. 

you shake your head at it. putting it back onto the rack. 

only to notice another shirt, and another shirt, and another shirt.

"i mean, literally every single shirt is covered in them." you point at the whole rack, now noticing the pink/red littered across the collars. all of them have it. you turn to look at her, eyes wide as she just smiles at her handiwork.

she gives you a peck and just leaves. turning her head to look at you over the shoulder and give one last remark.

"you better not wash them off or you're sleeping on the couch."

--

"the abe clan cordially invites you to the 2027 annual ball." you stare at the invitation in your hand, red cardstock, beautiful crest in the dead center. 

with sana's quiet humming, you barely register that you've arrived at the abe clan's main estate. dark and light reds adorning the walls, intricate wooden carvings of dragons. the dark red crest and lapels on each security guard. 

the sedan rolls forwards, until you're stopped by two guards. handing the invitation card to the chauffeur, and letting the guards scan the car. 

you watch sana, her eyes floating around, admiring the long trees that line around the garden's pond.

and then the car continues to roll forwards, and all around you are different black marked cars. each with their own crest, women and men donning different formal wear. kimonos, tuxedos, hanboks, qipaos, ao dais, all around.

the door opens, and you step out, rounding the corner to take sana's arms into yours.

"one rule with the abe's, do not ever drink first in front of an abe." she whispers quietly as you both enter down a deep tunnel, much like the minatozaki house. 

large stone slabs lined underneath, but you can see it above, the lining of birds across a wired line. much like a telephone line. their dark beady eyes staring down, with jet black feathers that make their body look like voids. 

they all move their heads in turn with the walking guests. "trained birds, trained to kill." she comments and continues to pull you forward. 

then you enter a big hall, filled with different dignitaries, generals, top executives, council members, even a few celebrity faces. 

sana smiles at the sight of the turning heads, everyone's excited to see another conglomerate family at these events. "just smile and nod." she whispers again through a smile.

you do the same, watching the eyes all peer back at you. they don't have the stillness of the minatozakis, there's bloodlust, there's evil, there's an ominous undertone behind those spheres. a predator lying dormant in each and everyone one of them.

with the sound of the doors opening, you hear the awws of the guests, all piling into the abe main hall. much like the grandeur of the minatozaki clan, it's lined with artifacts of war. 

great katanas and bows hung along the walls. dark and deep red colored accents, a giant abe crest upon the center. there's beautiful music playing in the background as you scan the room. sana tugs you along.

"how much do you know about the abe's?" sana stares at you as she hands you a small knife. you tuck it into the breast pocket.

"a little." you offer, brushing her hair out of her face, and she gleams at that, giving a little kiss before returning back to her stoic face.

"kaito and kenji, two sons of the abe clan. kaito's set to become the head of the family. there's rumors that kenji might kill him for the seat." she explains, adjusting the knife in her thigh holster.

you nod, her mother has educated you on all the conglomerate groups, especially the abe and watanabe clan. both have been vying for the possible absorption of the minatozaki clan.

you adjust the knife holster for her, as you check your surroundings, just as you expected. nearly the same power in their private military, donning red fabric. you both take off to the other side of the room, eyes darting from face to face trying to remember significant figures, but who are you kidding, they're all people in power.

browsing through plates of delicacies, waiters and waitresses circling with plates of drinks. each more colorful than the last, it seems the abe have distinct taste.

you're leaning to your left when you're suddenly pulled into a conversation, the woman making large and loud gestures at you. most of which you nod and let the words flow through your ears. you never thought you would see her again.

sana's staring, taking turns staring at her and staring at you. her hold on your arm tighter than ever, feeling the blood thump in your arm. she continues to drone on until finally she gets swept into another conversation with someone else.

sana unhooks her arm from you.

"who is that?" sana stares at you, arms folded and that tick in her jaw. you can't help but keep eyeing the long black dress that she has on, with a deep thigh slit along the left side. 

you try your best to keep the impure thoughts to yourself, instead offering a kiss to sana's forehead when you stand in front of her.

"hmm, old friend from law school."

sana had been eyeing the woman even as she moved across the room. even more upset when she slid up next to you. talking your head off about something that must have been boring because she could recognize the attention leaving your body.

but she can't help but notice how forward the woman was, unnecessarily putting her hands on you. unnecessarily laughing at whatever you are saying, just a bit too hard. unnecessarily pushing her cleavage up against you.

"our year?" sana says, brushing off a piece of lint from your jacket, also brushing off the feeling of the woman off your jacket. 

you stare at her manicured fingers. long slender fingers that wear your ring proudly. you smile at the sight of the large diamond.

"no, a year younger." you say softly, bringing her hand up to kiss it. she flips your hand over to kiss it back. "why do you ask?"

"didn't know you liked younger women..." she comments, back to nitpicking what the woman is wearing tonight. 

how dare she try and lay her hands on you? sana's thinking of calling momo and mina to do some 'intervention'.

"i don't, like younger women i mean." you watch sana as she stares down the woman. the way she holds onto the neck of the champagne flute, the way she has that tick in her jaw, the way she can't keep moving her eyes up and down in disdain.

"good." she comments back, it's more so to herself, so you roll your eyes at that.

"i only like you sana." you say the golden words that make her heart melt. she stares at you for a bit.

"mhm keep sweet talking me like that and i’ll let you fuck me in the bathroom." she drapes her arm over your neck pulling you into a hot kiss, tossing a wink to the woman from earlier.

you pull away, her chasing after you, but with all the prying eyes you'd rather enjoy sana in a more private place. 

you begin to pull her towards anywhere that isn't open space for people to watch, when you bump into someone on accident.

"oh hello." the man turns around, a tall man toying with a knife in hand. his eyes dancing with amusement. "apologies, hope there's no hard feelings."

"none here." you offer, trying to side-step around him when he places his small knife at your neck. you look down at it, engraving in the base with red ink.

"kenji abe." you whisper to yourself, but he claps in delight, nodding quickly and sheathing his dagger away.

"that is me!" he exclaims, offering his hand. you shake it, his grip awfully loose, too loose.

"nice to meet you mr. abe." you explain, still trying to drag sana away. he stops you with a hand, a little smirk on his face. taking a glance at you and sana.

“nice to meet the minatozaki’s new lapdog.” he smiles, and then takes a look at sana, “hello sana, it’s been a while hasn’t it. kaito misses you.” the curling devilish smile as he hands both of you a drink. and taking one for himself. 

“cheers! to a lovely abe ball.” he says as he holds the glass in the air, you take a quick look at sana out of your eye as you both clink his glass, letting it linger away from your lip. 

watching the way he smirks, and then drinks his champagne. he smiles at you both before disappearing into the crowd. 

“never liked him.” sana shudders as she says it, you just smile at her. letting her lay on your shoulder. “him and kaito. they’re dangerous. and he called you a lapdog, what an excuse of a man.”

you just nod, absorbing the information you’ve just been told. it’s not easy transitioning into this lifestyle, with structures and family systems in place, you feel like you really are out of your depth here.

a question still remains, what did he mean by kaito misses sana? you’re distracted by even more dramatic flairs of the abe ball. fire lighting up around, spotting several of your father’s old business partners, nodding to them.

"have i told you how gorgeous you look tonight?" sana starts, giving you a light kiss under your jaw.

"hmm, no, not tonight." you smirk, leaning into her, garnering another kiss. you smile when she rolls her eyes, kissing her jaw lightly too.

"well you do, and i think you would look even more gorgeous under me." she whispers into your ear, you lean back. it seems tonight’s been getting under her skin, constantly trying to get you away from the ball.

you shake your head ready to tell her no when you hear a mic being tapped.

“hello, welcome to the 247th annual abe ball!” a tall well tailored man is speaking into the mic, upon a lifted podium. his voice loud and commanding as he looks below at all the guests. 

all around you are people clapping at him, so you begin to clap, interested in whoever this man might be.

“my name is kaito abe, thank you all for joining us tonight.” he booms into the mic, the sound booming off the walls, everyone clapping at his pauses.

“tonight, we have something special, a very special event.” he says, lifting his hand out to the other side of the podium. white flashing lights suddenly illuminating three bodies. 

the sound of gasps and quiet whispers making you curious. you keep your hand on the knife, sana’s picked up on the same thing, her hand pulling the thigh knife.

“i welcome you, the death of the watanabe’s.” and there you can see it, white fluorescent lights shining across three figures. their eyes begging for help while they’re forced to face the bloodlust of kaito abe. 

“sana, get behind me.” you push her behind you, her eyes staring at the watanabe’s. 

they look roughed up, blood already pouring from their heads and clothes. the patriarch, his wife and the only heir.

“you see, a little weasel from their clan, a vermin even.” kaito begins throwing the tanto he has in his hand, one much like the minatozaki tanto you have in your desk.

he continues to flip it through the air with ease. “tried getting into our clan, how silly right?”

he leans forward, nearly off the edge of the podium as he laughs maniacally. you can see shuffling begin to happen, people are panicking, trying to leave the ball. 

only to be pushed back into the center by the abe guards, all of them wielding weapons.

“oh no, you can’t leave darling, the show’s barely begun!” he continues to round the podium, letting out a laugh when the woman starts crying, his tanto hanging loosely in his hand as he points at the woman.

“see, when there's a rat in your home, what do you do?” he continues to pace the podium. “answer me!” 

he shouts from above, more people are shuffling nervously and then you hear a distant, “you exterminate them!” 

“BINGO! you. exterminate. them.” he laughs a bit, walking briskly towards them, pulling at the hair of the patriarch. 

you curse out loud, his swollen eyes and chunks of his hair missing. 

“but you can’t just exterminate one rat. no. no. they will just continue to repopulate. exterminate. at. the. source.” and then he jabs the tanto right into the man’s neck. 

blood gushing onto his suit like a geyser. he lets out a laugh as the man sputters up blood before falling forward. 

then he moves towards his wife, stabbing into her neck as her cries turn into screams. dragging out a laugh from him, meanwhile their son is crying silently, arms defeated as he watches his two parents’ now dead body.

“and remember. no survivors left behind.” he says with finality, as he shoves the tanto deep into the son’s neck, the tanto left inside.

sana’s covered her eyes into your back. you can feel her shaking a bit, you cover her ears as you pull her close, letting her keep her head against your chest. 

“sana?” she just continues to shake in your arms, fear enveloping her entire body. memories of her younger self around the abe clan. you’ve never seen her so scared. she clings onto you like a lifeline. 

“thank you, thank you! i hope you enjoyed the show!” he takes a deep bow, one in which he keeps his head forward with that smirk on his face. joy from killing, joy from being able to make others submit to him.

and then he walks over, using his foot as leverage as he pulls out the knife, wiping it clean off, and disappearing behind a door in the wall. the sound of shouts and chaos echoing through the hall.

--

the car ride is silent, sana’s gone quiet, simple nods when you ask her if she’s alright. eyes squeezed tightly and one hand curling around the other. you don’t even know where to begin talking about the events of tonight.

the abe’s are ruthless killers, you remember that even from when sana told you. it just takes a live performance of it to see how they are devoid of remorse. 

kaito abe, kaito abe, kaito abe. 

you barely knew the watanabe’s, only speaking to their son once, he was quiet. he didn’t seem the type to want to lead their clan, but now he lays dead, at the hands of kaito.

you play with your knife in your hand, thinking about how easily it shoved down the watanabe’s, killing them so quickly. the same blade that’s supposed to show honor and birth of a new member of the clan, used for killing those that harm the family.

the car rolls into the manor, and you take a deep breath, looking at sana. eyes still unfocused and staring at her own hands. you open the door and round the back to open the door to her side.

“darling? we’re home.” you offer your hand, she doesn’t even move. so you tap her shoulder lightly, she jumps at the touch, moving back from it.

“oh, sorry.” she takes your hand, and you pull her out, leading her towards the door. you immediately squatting at the sight of haruto and hanako walking outside.

picking up haruto in your arms, while sana picks up hanako, a warm smile back on her face. holding hanako tightly to her chest. haruto messes with your hair, pointing around and talking about his day. you kiss his forehead and walk inside. 

there’s still a weird tension lingering around her, she refuses to look you in the eyes. instead preoccupying herself with putting hanako to bed. so you do the same putting haruto into bed. tucking him in and giving him a kiss while sana waits outside. you kiss hanako on the forehead as well before slipping out.

giving yourself a deep breath when you close the door, you see sana next to you, her eyes back to their unfocused state. there’s something she isn’t telling you, and normally you aren’t one to pry. but after the events of tonight, you need to know.

“sana, are you alright?” you hold her head in your hands, eyes peering into hers, for any sign really. she just nods, taking a deep breath, dragging you down the hallway.

“i have something to tell you.” she begins as she sits at her vanity. starting to take off her earrings, you unclasp the necklace that she has on, placing it into a velvet box before tucking it away. 

she stares at herself in the mirror, memories of her past self resurfacing.

“kaito abe and i, we used to date. set to marry actually.” you sit next to hit, listening intently as she continues to take out hairpins and set them across her table. “it was what was destined for us, until his father killed my uncle. momo and mina’s father.”

you nod, you didn’t know much about momo and mina but there was an emptiness in their eyes, you always assumed it was because they were trained soldiers.

“seeing them up there on the platform, it felt like i was watching momo and mina being killed at his hands. then i thought, what if he killed you, what if he killed haruto and hanako. i’m so scared.” she bursts into tears, hands shaking to hold yours.

“he won’t be able to, i won’t let him.” you say confidently, kissing her gently. 

--

“so, the minatozakis were here tonight.” kenji stares at kaito, both of them throwing knives at a corkboard, you and sana’s photos pinned to the board.

“yes, sana and her plaything.” kenji turns to a guard, handing him ten new knives. kaito just laughs, doubling over and wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“her plaything? how delightful.” kaito stares at the photo of you, and then down at the photo of haruto and hanako by your side. “and her spawns.” 

“yes, two it seems.” kenji nods as he continues to throw straight into the forehead of your photos. the two continue to throw knives in the silence, slicing through the air, as they land on the different photos across the board.

“kenji, let’s topple the minatozakis?” kaito stares at sana’s photo as he aims for her heart, landing dead in the center.

“with pleasure.” his final knife aimed straight at your heart.

--

a/n: message me if you want a part 4 :^P

[poppyseed1031]

Melting - Chapter one

Warnings- Use of language, mentions of trauma, closed of reader, eventual fluff, eventual sexual content

Neteyam 24 x F reader 24

CHAPTER 2 POSTED!

Angry. Cold. Aggressive.  Heartless. Incapable of feeling anything.

You've heard these things a million times in your lifetime, whispers floating around the clan since you're parents got banished,  granting you the only good thing they ever gave you in leaving you behind in the forest.

Leaving her to fend for herself at such a young age with nothing but a ratty old Mauri and a planted seed of hatred and mistrust towards her people. If you couldn't trust your parents who could you trust? If they could just leave you, why would anyone else ever stay? The prejudice they left behind kept you isolated, everyone thought you would be just like them, ignoring your small pleas for companionship and love, brushing off your little hands that grabbed at passing loincloths and legs.

A child's shoulders were not built to bear the weight of their parents choices.

Yet here you were, the product of judgement. You grew from that small, whimpering child, into a beautiful, but cold, navi woman. You earned your place among the clan, always keeping to yourself. Besides training and becoming a warrior and following direct orders from your leader, barley anyone ever saw you utter a word, and if they did, the things you'd spew at them through your fangs were laced with venom, warding off any attempt to get to know you in an effort of self protection.

As you both got older, Neteyam found that his eyes continued to be drawn to you, as well as his mind, he knew his father held you in top ranks with pride, his only other top warrior besides Neteyam.

And for some reason or another, he just couldn't stop looking at you, or for you, in a crowd. His body urging him to go and talk to you. He knows what people say about you, he's seen your attitude and harsh words up front and center himself, but he can't stop it seems.

Like now, he's just climbed down from his ikran after a successful patrol and his eyes are glued to you as you slide off your own. Your long black hair is loose and out of the braids, falling in waves down to the small of our back where it curl at the ends. He can hear your maroon beaded chest piece clinking as you bend down to fix the fastening of the dagger on your calf, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the plump swell of your ass as you do so, exentuated by the frilly loincloth, longer than most, with slits all the way up to both hips and draping down to your ankles in a smooth ripple, mouth watering as he takes in what seems to be the miles of striped, dark blue skin and scattered tanhi that makes up your form.

"Why are you staring at her brother? She's a literal demon." Another warrior, Tano, said with a laugh. Interrupting the other man's gawking as he slapped a hand down on Neteyams shoulder. "She can't actually be that bad. She's just a bit.... volatile." Neteyam trailed off in a huff, unable to think of any other descriptor as he watched you hiss under your breath at the strap of your ikrans saddle because it wasn't tightening how you wanted it to. Tanto laughed briefly before quickly closing his mouth as Neteyams father, Jake, cleared his throat behind them. "Well son, you better learn to live with it because she's you're new partner." His fathers voice was thin, obviously irritated he was participating in putting down one of his best in battle. Neteyams ears flattened and guilt flooded him as he faced his dad. "Yes sir, I'm sorry." He murmured with a duck of his head. "Don't apologize to me. Treat her respectfully. She's your equal. And I'm aware she can be difficult and rough around the edges, but none of you kids know what her life has been. And even outside of battle, she is one of the most helpful, you young warriors just don't pay attention." Jake snapped before he walked away to debrief some other warriors. "Good luck." Tanto muttered before shuffling away.

Neteyam turned his eyes back to you and swallowed. You were slinging a satchel over your shoulders and walking towards the tree line. He quickly situated his bow over his chest and ran after you. You were moving quickly, already far enough ahead that he had to pick up his pace, he reached you a few feet into the forest and clamped his hand down on your shoulder in an attempt to get you to still. You spun around, knocking his hand off of you and bared your fangs in a hiss. "Whoa! Whoa whoa! I'm sorry!" He held his hands up in surrender as you fixed him with your steely glare. "Do not touch me." You growled, poking his chest for emphasis. He nodded quickly, "Yeah, okay I won't. I'm sorry, I was just trying to get you to stop so I could catch up." He explained with a nervous chuckle. You straightened at that, ears twitching as you stared at him in silence. He studied you right back, trailing the features of your face. Big round eyes, the color of deep, liquid honey, framed by thick, dark lashes that kissed your cheeks whenever blinked. Delicate cheekbones framed by soft stripes and swirling tanhi, and Plump, full lips. He followed the trail of sparkling freckles up the bridge of your nose to your forehead, where they formed a perfect heart. So beautiful he thought.  You cleared your throat suddenly, knocking him out of his daze, his eyes snapping back to yours.

"I take it your father told you we're going be partners now." You asked matter of fact, thankfully not addressing that he was openly oggaling you. "Yes, I uh, wasn't sure he told you." Eywa what the hell is wrong with him? Stuttering over his words like a moron. You were silently staring again, seemingly taking him in with a scrutinizing gaze. "He did. Is that all?" You were already turning around before you had even finished the question. " Wait! I mean- I thought we should maybe talk?" Eywa why was he nervous? You paused before turning back around with a slight head tilt. "Why?" You crossed your arms around your middle in what he maybe thought could be a comforting hold. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, it might be nice to not have to worry about any awkwardness or things like that, right? So we're comfortable with each other." You scoffed a little at his words, tilting your head back and exposing your neck to him while letting out an annoyed, soft noise. "Alright. If you wish. Come." You turned tail again, retreating deeper into the plush forest and Neteyam followed behind eagerly with a swishing tail.

‐‐-----------------------------------------

Hi! Author here. So I'm testing the water with this new fic, let me know what you think!

[uesp]

"The tanto is a stylish dagger variant of Akaviri design. For obscure reasons, the Telvanni prefer them to standard daggers as a matrix for their enchantments, and Telvanni mercenaries are often equipped with enchanted tantos by their mage-lord patrons."

-Garothmuk gro-Muzgub

[onedaughterofman]

Sun (Papa Emeritus x g/n reader)

Summary: Papa casts away the demons that haunt you tonight and stays with you until sunrise.

Tags: Rated T. Any Papa you want. Mentions of depression and/or non specified mental illness, self-esteem issues and self hate. Hurt/ comfort. A bit of fluff. Papa being soft.

A warm embrace in a cold night, a desperate attempt to soothe the emptiness inside your guts.

You count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Papa doesn't let go. Inhaling deeply, the air burns inside your lungs. It lacks oxygen, substance. No matter how much your abdomen moves with every breath, nothing fills the void.

Not even his warmth, no even his heartbeat in your ears.

"It's starting to get bad again, Papa," you whisper out into the night, a shameful, bitter confession full of fear and anger. Things were getting better, or so you thought. Maybe it was just a lie you repeated to yourself until it was easier to mistake it for the truth. "It's getting really bad again."

The restlessness, the voices inside your mind, the untamed chorus of self depreciation and hate... All is coming back to meet you at the edge of the abyss, ready to push you back at the bottom.

"I know, amore. I know. Mi dispiace tantissimo, dal profondo del mio cuore."

Papa's voice is a whisper, thick accent coating the words. Like a blanket, they weigh over your body, caressing the cold skin. You bury in them, desperately searching for any heat. His heartbeat is loud, so loud. You count.

One. Two. Three.

Four. Five. Six.

Through the window, the first rays of the sun peak over the horizon bathing the grass in a golden shine. The morning dew rises, mist coating the plants and lingering over the earth before dying in the new light.

Papa doesn't let go. Arms tight on your body, he squeezes so hard until, if only for a moment, the emptiness in your ribcage subsides. That chronic black hole between your heart and stomach never dies, thought. It doesn't matter what you feed it, it's always there, walking side by side with you, consuming and devouring your essence to the very core and leaving an empty shell behind.

Nothing kills the emptiness. Friends, family, money, food, TV shows and books, new obsessions... It's all useless, nothing but a temporary distraction that will allow you say you're actually getting better this time.

But it's just that. A lie.

You're a liar.

And still, Papa doesn't let go. Gloved hands caressing your hair, he whispers sweet nothings on your scalp. His warm breath hits your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His voice is soft, matching his words, and he shushes over your babbling with ease.

"No need to apologize. Ti amo così tanto, e ti amerò per sempre, no matter what."

As sweet as they are, those words feel like daggers in your chest. You don't deserve him, a voice says in your mind. He deserves someone better, someone stable, happier.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with me, Papa. I don't deserve you," you confess, like a sin. The tears are salty in your mouth, cold on your cheeks. His gloves clean them off, hot palms cupping your face as his thumbs caress over the bone.

"Ma dai! There's nothing to be sorry about, don't say that. I'm here because I want to be, si? Not even death could do us apart, for I'll call your name forever."

The sun rays sneak through the thick curtains, hitting your eyes and falling on his face. Under the golden shine, Papa looks ethereal, magnificent and full of love and devotion towards you. His fingers linger on your face, holding your head steady as he leans to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"If you can't take a step forward, stay right were you are. I'll meet you anywhere, amore. And when you're ready to continue, I'll gladly be your guide into the dark. You'll never walk alone." Papa continues, words whispered into your hair. His embrace is soft, just like his promises of eternal love.

Breathless, you nod. Closing your eyes, your nails dig on his shoulders and back as he sways his body slowly, rocking you with him.

One step, then two. You count.

One, two, three,four.

Papa's arms sneak down your back, clasp around your waist.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Gradually, through an aching heart and weak limbs, you inhale and let your body go limp on his, allowing him to pull you towards the bed. A heavy blanket is placed around your torso. It smells of incense and perfume, just like him.

Nine.

The sun is high on the sky when you close your eyes, tears coating your lashes. Papa is still whispering in your ears, humming the melody of a long forgotten song.

Ten.

When the night dies, allowing a new day to take over, you drown in his warm embrace. The emptiness is still there, dormant, but at least for today you find solace in the promise of a new sunrise.

PD: I'm going through it and wrote this mostly to myself, but it might bring at least a bit of comfort to some of you too. I hope you are doing well <3

Asks are open if you wanna say something. Sorry if this is not that good, I wrote this in my phone at midnight.

[theoutcastrogue]

Dagger “fan” (Tanto)

Japan, undated (there’s a similar one in the Fan Museum in Greenwich, late 19th century)

Brown lacquered and painted case resembling closed fan, opens to reveal steel dagger. Cord depends from cylindrical “rivet.”

In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (not on view)

[thejudgeclaudefrollo]

a small question about weapons.

what exactly do you think is most convenient to use, deadlier, generally more elegant. Falchion, flamberge, wakizashi/katana, saber, broadsword; maybe morgenstern/flail/kanabo, overall blunt weapons? Or perhaps one-handed daggers that do not require a second hand for weilding, for example kris/dirk/tanto/stiletto(your dagger looks like kind of version of stiletto. the same rhombic cross-section, and double-edged sharpening is preserved), and the like?

“Daggers like the tanto and stiletto are highly convenient due to their size and ease of use.

For sheer lethality, the katana, saber, and kanabo stand out, each excelling in their respective combat styles.

The katana and kris are renowned for their beauty and craftsmanship.”

[kultofathena]

Hanwei – Tiger Tanto

The Hanwei Tiger Tanto is a premium quality Tanto crafted to be a standout gorgeous piece on its own, or to complete a set with the Hanwei Tiger Katana and Wakizashi in a matched set (sold separately: SH12040, SH12050). Just like its larger Tiger brothers, this Tanto melds a fine quality blade of folded steel with a unique a unique koshirae setting of unique fittings and components. Unlike many katana on the market which mix and match from mass produced pre-fabricated koshirae hilt components, Hanwei creates their own unique designs which are cast and detailed to a truly premium quality level. Among these, Hanwei’s Tiger Series  are among the boldest and most vibrant hilt settings Hanwei created.

The blade is not to be outdone by these fittings as it is forged from folded K120C Swedish Powder Steel; it was differentially-hardened using the traditional clay-tempering method to imbue it with a hard and wear-resistant edge and a softer, shock absorbing spine. A fine quality polish brings out the vibrant hada patterning of the folded steel and the wave-like hamon of edge-hardened steel.

The habaki and seppa are brass and the hilt fittings are iron. The wooden tsuka is inlaid with genuine rayskin and overlaid with knotted tsuka-ito of premium Japanese cotton. The saya scabbard is expertly carved from wood and is finished with glossy black lacquer inlaid with bamboo leaves of brass and is completed with a black sageo. Included is a wood-boxed Hanwei Traditional Japanese blade maintenance kit and a cloth sword bag for storage and transport.

[eraserisms]

Shota + Gear

Shota is above all things, practical. It isn't uncommon for his goggles to get damaged. Sometimes he even takes bets on himself to see how long the next pair will last. He has at least 15 spares of the goggles shoved in his closet. It is also cheaper to buy them this way.

The binding cloth is a bit more difficult to tear or break. Being carbon fiber based, it's pretty durable and depending on how much Shota is using it, it'll last for quite a long time. Carbon fiber is strong, but it isn't invulnerable. While it has advantages of being light weight and flexible; once carbon fiber is damaged it's nearly impossible to repair. Once it's been damaged cracks have a tendency of spreading throughout the rest of the material. Shota checks his weapon after most battles or even particularly bad skirmishes. He does a few tests such as visual inspections and tactile ones, to see if there has been any real damage to it, much like a rock climber would test their ropes.

As far as his tanto goes, Shota wipes his blade clean after every fight. He does other maintenance things periodically such as oiling, sharpening and honing it. Shota's default weapon is his tanto when he isn't using his capture weapon, but that isn't the only knife that he keeps on hand. He also keeps a serrated hunting knife as well and uses it primarily to saw through things. It also serves as a backup for his usual dagger of choice.

[a-s-levynn]

JOOO you used to sell swords?? That's so cool!!! If you feel like reminiscing and using this as an opportunity to tell everyone about that very awsome sounding job, I would love to hear about it :D if not just take this as me being a tumblr mutual who wants to be your friend now even more 😂 swords are so cooool

I sure did! Oooh my god. You have no ide what sort of pandora's box you've opened. I love talking weaponry. I also spent an unreasonably long time trying to dig up old pics.

So i snatched this unreal job by a total accident. During uni, a friend of a friend of mine were preparing to go to study abroad for a few months and needed a temporary replacement. And when we met for the first time, half jokingly asked if i liked swords. Yes, yes i do find all kinds of blades incredibly sexy thank you very much. And not a lot of time later i was sitting behind the counter. And stayed there for roughly three years.

It was a sword and decorational weaponry shop. I mean it still is. But i may talk about it past tense because i'm not there anymore. 😭 We had like functional swords and daggers for HEMA and other traditional stuff. Lots and lots of katanas and a few wakizashis and tantos for martial arts or just for decour. We even had like the long ones.. what are they called.. odachi and nodachi! And that sort of spear like a guandao, naginata. There were khukri knives as well. Modern knives.. A lot of stuff. And then decorational stuff from movies, anime or video games for just to put on a wall or elevate a cosplay.

Even decorational fire arms up until modern stuff. Altho fire arms where strictly decorational items, manufactures in ways that they were safe and unchangable into usable stuff. And a fewfigures, jewellery and some tarot cards and some other nick-nacks that fit the theme.

I don't have access to my drives at the moment but i found some old pictures.

Okay so this was the second showroom, i can't find picture of the old one, i liked that one better but there was a location change and this one is smaller, less packed. But still the important parts are there. These pictures are about 3 years old as well at this point.

Please note the little knight with the megaphone in the corner on the monitor. I designed that one. Precious friend shaped little dude.

This picture is Ezio's dagger from Assassin's Creed. It's not dirty just freshly out of the shipping box, swimming in grease to protect it from rusting. This one was a functional piece. The handle seems wide but it's not disproportionate, only my hands are small.

But we had like.. i dunno sabers of many kinds..and chinese swords with rigid blades to those weird but really fun floppy ones as well.

That green wall belonged to the old showroom my beloved 😭

Also there were pieces of armour and all. Not just full but chainmails and roman style, shields. Bows and Crossbows. Basically everything.

And like besides the selling and online customer service stuff, i did a lot of polishing, i probably enjoyed that the most. Of course the heavier damage or problems were handled by proper craftsmen but a simple polishing job? Gimme! -insert grubby hands- I'm gonna spend half a day on it but you gonna see yourself in it. Like this below. The left side is still unpolished, all foggy, but see the right? You can see the red shirt guy pretty good already. This helmet was so pretty after i was finished with it. I was so proud. 😭

And then there were some modern stuff. With these i also did the smaller mechanical epairs like a jammed spring or a loose trigger and the like.

This beretta was the first i took apart but i conquered it like a champ 😂 I was asking my boss if i could give it a try and he said as long as i don't break any additional parts go a head. Needless to say the second little guy landed in my lap without any question.

And there were so many other little highlights. I loved so many of the customers. I loved talking about their stuff or just listening to their stories. Uhh i miss it so much i can't even begin.

[solradguy]

Between 2009 and 2011 no one knew what to get me as a gift for gift giving events such as christmas so everyone just bought me knives/random sharp things. I have so many random knives and swords scattered around my bedroom because I don't know what to do with them

2 tanto (like a straight single-edge dagger)

a "tactical" kukri

1 butterfly knife

1 unsharpened shitty flea market katana (blue)

1 very sharp high carbon steel katana (brown)

1 claymore sword

2? ...3? machetes

a finger ring claw thing with a curved knife coming out of the knuckle

a 3-bladed Wolverine claw lookin Spencer's gift shop skull... thing (very unsafe, very sharp)

I don't even know what the hell else I've got laying around but this definitely isn't all of it. They're just hidden in random places all over my room, I haven't seen some of them in like 5+ years. I don't even have any formal training for how to use any of these

[talisidekick]

I quite like swords, do you have any fun facts on them

(Axes are fine too)

Well, since I already did a whole post on Axes, which you can read here:

I might as well do my due diligence and info dump on my knowledge of swords so ... I should have expected this but here we go:

A Brief (lmao not at all) Overview of a Complicated Sword History

by an autistic trans girl demon

So before we get started, first we have to understand the categorization of swords. What we know as a "sword" is a general term from Old English deriving from the word "Sweord", meaning a "long bladed weapon with a handle and sometimes a hilt that is designed to stab, hew, cut, or slice; this means if it was clearly designed not to stab, hew, cut, or slice, and doesn't have an arbitrarily "long" blade, it's not a sword. Secondly, a lot of historical sources really only focus on swords as weapons, not tools, and thus we have an issue where tools that fall under the same description of swords won't typically be called swords but classified as "this other totally not a sword thing". Thirdly, swords were a slow development from daggers, which were classified loosely as double edged blades of a knifes size. If you're not following yet, this classification doesn't apply to all long-bladed creations and rarely do we get accounts of their use as tools because of this. That is, unless, you start looking at the few tools that became swords. And additionally, we have to remember that other cultures had definitions for tools, weapons, and items that crossed over or into what the English defined as a "sword" meaning that the "sword" category starts getting messy real quick. This simply isn't as clean as "wedge-on-a-stick" (axe) or "short sharp thing with handle" (knife). And rather than define what is a sword by it's common definition, it's actually better to look at what has become classified as a "sword" despite not quite meeting the definition initially defined as "a long double bladed weapon with a handle and sometimes a hilt" and those creations that should be classified as swords but aren't.

Which we begin the "sword-enough" category in China with the Dao. The above image is the Duan Dao. Dao are single edged long bladed weapons that showed up somewhere in 1600 to 1050 B.C. during the Shang Dynasty period but gained popularity as a cavalry sword much later. There are many types of Dao, each classified by their blade length, blade type, handle length, etc. and had strict requirements for construction. It was used like a sword, but only had one edge, so we called it a sword despite it's cousin the Dao phased out, the Jian, actually fitting the initial "sword" description perfectly.

A version of a Jian for reference.

But I can hear it coming: isn't a Dao just a Sabre? And sure, the image I showed LOOKS like a Sabre, but thats because of the Dao's complex history and how it evolved over time. It at one time looked like this:

Which is a Wodao, a variant if the Dao that looked and often had very close similarities to another "shouldn't be a sword but is" creation from a different country. That is, the one edged blade known as ...

The Katana. But oh wait, this is actually part of a series! See out of all the "swords that shouldn't be swords" from Japan, the Katana has a shorter cousin, the Wakizashi, which is slightly smaller in blade and hilt, and the Tanto which should be a knife, but somehow squeezed itself in. All of these weapons have specific requirements to their construction to be called what they are from blade and tang length, to steel folding requirements, etc. but all have one thing in common: they've only got one edge. And next up from another edge of the world is ...

The Scimitar. A bastardization of the Persian word Shamshir, which is an entire classification of swords with curved blades that some Sabres, Dao, and at one point Katana's were all classified as. This category of one bladed swords is massive and includes weapons from North Africa to the Middle East to some areas in Europe. And is this rants segway into the tools category, starting with dancing swords. Now bear with me because I don't have a photo for this one; just a rant. While sword dancing began as training exercises for many cultures, it became entertainment and from it birthed a subcategory of unbladed swords that were flimsier, more flexible, and less likely to cut you. Unlike dancing with axes where the most that was done at best was a blunting of the blade, dancing swords aren't able to be resharpened to be weapons but are rather "tools" of entertainment. Despite not being bladed at all, or intended to stab, cut, hew, or slice, they look like swords and thats enough to call them swords. But want to know who doesn't get this treatment?

The Machete. Tanto gets to squeeze in on sword, but this is just a "long bladed knife". It's history is supposedly grounded in South America as a bush clearing and harvesting tool. But it's a tool, not a weapon, and thus in it's own class. Another familiar face stuck in it's own class is ...

The Sickle. Now theres MANY types of sickles, many sizes, several could be "swords" by the way we include one-bladed creations. But alas, it's not a weapon, thus not a sword, unless it IS a weapon in which it IS a sword, a "sickle sword" or ...

A Khopesh. But oh crap, a sickle that is a sword? A tool used both for combat, harvest, and a trade tool? Thats only 1/3 sword! What can we do to preserve our obviously pristine and infalliable "sword" categorization? Answer: call it "Sickle Shaped".

Look, I don't know how to end this besides saying that I do genuinely love swords. They've been coming of age gifts, presents for achievements, badges of honour, and in many cultures, like my ancestors, a symbol of love and unity. The very act of driving a sword deep into a pole to see how far it would go in as a "sign" of how long a marriage could last was part of some germanic/viking culture. Swords are awesome. But the classification and what we do and don't consider a sword is arbitrary, hypocritical, and stupid.

Go buy a sword for a loved one. The classification apparently doesn't matter so just make sure it looks "sword enough" and no one can argue with you.