#∞|| The Sharpest of Blades; IC ||∞

[lunarburdened]

new tag dump so that i know for CERTAIN what my tags are lol

[dreadseareverie]

lysander tag drop

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Pay the Piper Verse 2

mdni

Chapter summary: The pirates won't fuck off as requested. Problems abound.

Master list

Chapter warnings: blood, violence, bullets, implied threat of massacre, language (as always)

A/N: I alternate "verses" (main story arc chapters) with "leitmotifs" (critical flashback chapters with contextual adventures). It's a play on One Piece's own style and a way to keep things fresh.

I do not curate tag lists, but I do reply to comments when the next chapter goes live!

“What are they doing?”

The captain grunted. “Thought you were the clever little genius.”

You glared from the corner of your eye, refusing to lift your chin from its rest on your folded arms. “Clever doesn’t mean psychic.”

“Obviously.”

Together, you watched the problem trailing in your wake.

Although they hadn’t done as you’d requested, your hunters hadn’t closed on the Marines’ tub. Not when they refused your kindly plea to fuck off. Not in the hours after. You sat on the aft railing, puzzling over the situation.

Every time you lifted your spyglass, you caught sight of Red Hair himself, relaxing in the same place. Watching you just as you watched him. The fucker waved when he caught you peeping.

You nearly swallowed your damn tongue.

The world really had gone mad.

A spar shrieked with strain, and you patted the ship, apologizing for the chip you’d dug out of her paint the day before. It wasn’t her fault she’d survived so many years at sea without appropriate reward for her good service. The poor thing was just doing her best. If she survived, the Marines might finally retire her, and she’d be sold off to a civilian fishing venture. Her final days would be full of quiet sailing in shallow waters with a home port to shelter in every night. Fish guts were better than men’s, you imagined, even if you were a boat.

You eased back, freeing a hand to tap the folded spyglass against your forehead. Eyes closed, you begged the thing for vision. Some insight. Perspective, maybe.

This mission had enough obstacles without bloodthirsty pirates.

They were clearly playing with you. But you didn’t know what they’d take as a prize if they came aboard. If they even wanted to come aboard.

Fuck it all.

Grunting you dropped to your feet and turned your back to the enemy. This close, anyone with observation haki – or a particularly good pair of binoculars – could read lips.

“What do you plan to do?”

The captain snorted, dropping his arm across his face. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he knew the absolute basics of strategy. Don’t tell the enemy your plans. Hopefully, he didn’t consider you one.

“Taking orders now?” he asked.

“Of course not.” You secured your telescope, shoulders loose and feet spread, hoping you looked calm from the pirates’ point of view. You were trying to run on ice, and if the captain decided to act of his own volition, you’d all sink to hell together. “I just like to be informed.”

His grip flexed around the binoculars, eyes darkening. Jaw ticking, he glared across the water.

“When they make their move, we’ll be ready to fight.”

You threw your head back and laughed.

Exactly what you’d expect from a marine with more brass than brains. Grinning with all your teeth, you rounded on him.  

“Adorable how you assume they’d cross blades instead of just broadsiding us.” Stepping closer, making sure you couldn’t be overheard, you took aim at his confidence. Hesitation on his part could stall the inevitable long enough for a new avenue to appear. Ego be damned. You wouldn’t die for a man’s pride.

“There won’t be a fight. Even if they don’t blow us to splinters with their superior range, Red Hair is one of the most fearsome men in the world. He blinks. We die. Don’t be thick. He fells vice admirals with his haki alone. You either got a hell of a promotion before we left, or you’re batting out of your league.”

Your shot landed, and the man snapped like a wounded animal. He snarled, shoving you out of his path, and you obliged, spinning away to his blow barely grazed your shoulder. You wanted to make a point, not pick a fight. Let him lick his wounds in peace. You’d be an adult and keep watch.

He stomped down to the main deck, the wood groaning under his assault. If the pirates didn’t destroy the ship, a few temper tantrums might just do it.

Without the captain of your ship eating space and sanity at your side, you felt the eyes of the other captain stabbing into the back of your head. Why did it feel so personal? So targeted? His determined fixation would get people killed. Not that a pirate would care, but – fuck’s sake – why couldn’t he just take the loot and leave?

Elbows on the rail, you dropped your head into your hands, fingers sinking through your hair and pulling until it hurt.

You refused to get your spyglass out again. You could still see his figure, even if his expression remained a mystery. From afar, you saw him raise an arm, holding something you deduced to be a cup when he brought it to his face.

A toast.

This bitch.

You wondered what to send him to express your regard. A barrel of shit. Rotten fish. Live rats. A pair of crushed walnuts.

He hadn’t played these games with the captain, at least not that you’d witnessed. You could imagine what stunning shade of red the man would turn if a pirate dared carry on with him in this manner.

So, that left the question: why you? The sea was a lonely place, but you doubted an emperor would be so desperately horny he’d chase down any ship with a woman aboard. And he’d been too far away to make out any figures at the hunt’s inception.

What did that mean?

Once he’d taken your necklace, the pirates kept up their pursuit, but they’d maintained that distance – close enough to see each other, but far enough to let everyone breathe.

It was like he wanted a conversation, like he was just waiting for the opportunity to pull alongside without escalating tensions to the breaking point.

Food for thought.

Honestly, you’d let him. If not for the marines. Red Hair would get what he wanted, one way or another, and appeasement might work if you were willing to give it another shot. A very, very risky shot. That the captain would not agree to.

This was why you traveled alone. It was impossible to make decisions with so many variables, so many others to consider…

An electric prickle ran up the back of your neck, jerking you out of your head.

Your intangible third eye snapped awake, staring wide into a scene of blood above deck and below. Casualties and regret and irreparable loss.

It sprang from the ship’s forecastle, from a sniper rifle’s barrel. The marine’s shot never fired. A bullet found his skull, scattering his thoughts into the thirsty deck. Men shouted. Weapons came to bear. Bullets picked them off. A canon shot cleared half the deck. Warped, aged wood couldn’t hold back the onslaught, and aborted screams rose with wailing cries from the hold before a crackling wave of haki left everything still.

You moved, and you felt the future alter with your steps. It flexed with your plans, two wills working over a chess board.

If you deflected the first shot – other marines fired. The end result was the same.

If you threw all your cards on the table and commanded the marines – you couldn’t see that future. It spun too far, but you knew what that gamble would cost. You didn’t need any special talent to see bounty posters and shackles creeping out to chain you. An end to your life, in one way or another. If you fell off the tightrope, the world would swallow you whole.

One option might work. The idea sprang from the waving figure of the pirate captain, his laughing refusal to simply fuck off, and the toast he raised to your frustration. He didn’t want treasure. He was after some sort of connection, chasing some link that tied back to you. If he just wanted to teach the marines a lesson for trespassing, you’d be dead already.

The plan would give you a few more minutes for a miracle, and a few minutes were always better than none at all. Besides, there was much less blood this way, and the old ship deserved a respite from violence.

You raced across the deck, ignoring the captain’s shouting as you rushed to end his little scheme. You’d definitely miscalculated there. His ego was too fragile to even look in a mirror. At the first pressure from reality, it shattered, and the shards would cut you all to ribbons.

Three steps from where the sniper lurked, peeking out from behind a mast on his knees, you felt your options narrow.

You were out of time.

“The fuck are you doing!”

You jumped in his way, shoving the barrel up so he fired into the clouds. There wasn’t time to brace the way you’d planned, and a bullet punched straight through you. It sent a shower of splinters from the prow, and a spray of your blood blinded the sniper. Rattled, the man didn’t even try to reload.

You fell against the mast, barely catching yourself as pain pounded through the shock. How bad was it? Not good. But not immediately fatal. You would’ve seen your death if it was that close.

You had your minutes.

Blinding rage flooded the ship, reaching over the waves to seize control. Conqueror’s haki. The sniper wilted at your feet, and the force of Red Hair’s oppressive aura knocked the wind out of you. You kept your feet, though, stumbling around to see a deck full of prone, useless men.

No canon shots, though. And only one bullet. Better than the alternative.

Still. The pirates were coming, and you had a job to do.

Usually, you had impeccable sea legs. Rough water and high winds meant nothing. But you couldn’t walk a straight line at the moment. Your vision swam, your brain struggling with a purely physical reaction to a serious wound, and cold dread curled around your heart as you pressed a hand to the hole. It was very warm. Very wet. You must be bleeding quite a bit.

You made it down to the main deck, swaying down to grab a pistol from a fallen marine as you headed below. Before you closed the door separating the crew quarters from the open air, you saw the Red Force’s dragon figurehead rise over the sails.

The sheer scale of the thing underlined the stupidity of it all.

It underscored the scale of the miracle you’d need to pull through this, too.

Well. The marines were down, anyway. No one around to see you break the rules.

Red Hair’s haki dropped off quickly. In tandem with the marines. Taking a deep breath that hitched on torn muscles, you pulled your focus together and flung it back. You had no hope of taking out the commanders, but every sword mattered in a fight, and you’d settle for clearing minions.

The dragon snarled closer, and you shut the door. Barricaded it. Limped your way deeper into the ship as you heard feet clatter aboard. You reached the door to the hold just as the first shoulder slammed into your little roadblock. Drums of war.

You knocked on the hold, hoping against hope Red Hair’s haki hadn’t reached below deck.

There was no response.

Winded, exhausted, you slid down the wall, aiming your pistol at the corner the pirates would have to turn to reach you. You didn’t have the energy to keep standing and hold the gun steady.

Hiding was out of the question. And you were the last line of defense.

Maybe if you lasted long enough, everyone would wake up and follow the emergency plan you’d drilled since leaving port. That meant facing a Yonko and his entire crew. Alone, just like you’d wanted.

The hall was better than the open deck. At least this way, you’d only have to face a few at a time. Though, depending on who came first, you might not get through any of them. You would not win against a Yonko. You would not win against his lieutenants, either, especially bleeding out with your back to the wall and something to protect.

Something snagged in your chest and you coughed. Iron and salt tinged the back of your throat with your next breath, and you wondered how much time you’d really won for yourself.

The door you’d blocked shattered, and running footsteps took on a new timbre in the ship’s hollow belly.

Your defenses hadn’t lasted a whole minute.

How, exactly, had this been the best outcome?

You were going to haunt Garp.

“Oi, oi!”

Far too friendly for the situation, the voice bounced down the passage. A sandaled foot slipped halfway out of cover, showing the speaker stood at the end of your little death tunnel. It wasn’t hard to guess who it belonged to.

Fucking fuck.

“That pistol won’t do either of us any favors. Put it down and let’s talk.”

You felt his haki pushing – far more gently than before but strong enough to turn the air thick in your mouth. You barely even thought of reacting. Instinctively, your haki slashed against his, feral and out of control. You took such pride in your precision. Shame you were going to die hissing and spitting like a cornered cat.

You cocked the hammer. “Can’t do that.”

“I’m standing in your blood.” Though still friendly, the voice grew heavier, less playful. An adult speaking to an adult, not a miscreant flirting his way out of trouble. “How long do you think you’ll last like this? Put down the gun. We have a doctor. He can help you.”

“Would’ve helped if you left when I asked.”

“You told me to fuck off.” He sounded delighted. You could hear his smile.

Your head thumped against the wood, a jarring little strike to keep you focused.

“I said please.”

Laughter you’d seen but never heard echoed through the space.

“That you did.” The man around the corner sighed, and you wondered how long you could spin out this standoff before he got bored. “You’re just the way I remembered you.”

What.

What?

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of a yonko’s acquaintance.” Staring even harder through the shadows, you waited for a trap, for a rush to take advantage of your distraction.

He must be lying. You’d never met Red-Haired Shanks.

But if he’d mistaken you for someone else…

“We never did have a proper introduction,” he agreed. “But I’m sure you remember.”

“I don’t know what you’re -”

A wobbly little voice said your name. Asked it, really. A frightened child looking for an adult. In the quiet belly of the ship, it was much too loud.

“Shit.” You glanced away from the end of the hall, shouting, “Don’t open the door!”

The child, a purple-haired squirt named Tevon, if you remembered right, sniffled, a wail haunting his words. “I fell down. All the mommies and aunties are asleep, and they won’t wake up.”

The yonko’s heavy sandal scraped over the boards as he adjusted his stance, and your gaze flicked back to the threat. Even if enough of the civilians behind the door woke before the pirates made a move, hiding was pointless. They’d been exposed.

You lifted a knee, snarling against the pain, and propped up your wrist to steady your sights.

“Ah.” The jubilant pirate captain turned serious. The warmth in his voice faded. “I think I understand.”

When in doubt – “You don’t know shit.”

He chuckled. It was dry. Almost derogatory.

“A bunch of women and children with a civilian escort on a Marine ship that barely deserves the name.”

In the quiet, you heard an infant start fussing. Because things couldn’t get any worse.

“Refugees?” Red-Hair asked. “And pirates are a particular threat. Enough for you to sacrifice something precious.”

A light chain rattled, rasping over callouses, and you had no doubt he was looking at your sacrifice as he spoke.

And he knew how much it mattered to you.

But you’d never met. Surely you’d remember…

“Families of the fallen from Marineford,” he concluded. “Am I right?”

The pistol wouldn’t stop him. You weren’t stupid, but you clung to it anyway. It made you feel like you could still do something.

“If they are?”

“Then you can put down the gun. We don’t hurt civilians.”

It sounded too good to be true, so you suspected it was. There would be a catch. A cost. Even merciful pirates were no angels.

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop bleeding!” After a moment’s rustling and vague cursing, an open hand appeared around the corner. “I’m unarmed, see? I’m gonna come to you, alright?”

You didn’t lower the gun, even as he slipped entirely out of cover.

“And I won’t shoot you because…?”

“You don’t want to.”

He took the journey one cautious step at a time, giving you plenty of time to study the great pirate effortlessly disregarding your last stand. Even in the gloom, you could make out his red hair and the long scars over his left eye. His black cloak whispered around him as he moved, strangely ominous in contrast with his colorful trousers. His attention stayed on you, just as yours fixed on him.

It felt eerily familiar.

Once he was close enough, he crouched in front of you, face even with the pistol. With two fingers, he casually pushed the barrel aside, and the weapon fell from your weakened grip.

He smiled wide. “See? Told you so.”

You glowered.

You should’ve shot him.

Rising, Red-Hair rapped his knuckles against the door to the hold, waiting until the growing sounds of shifting and groaning stilled. He only spoke when he had a rapt audience.

“You’re welcome to settle in my territory if any of you wish, and this ship has safe passage for as long as you’re aboard.”

He glanced down at you, and you found it increasingly difficult to look at all menacing from the floor, all labored breathing and numb hands.

“Unfortunately, your friend here was hurt in a misunderstanding, so she’ll be coming with us so our doctor can treat her.”

“Oh, hells no, I won’t.” Maybe it wasn’t too late to put a bullet in his smug face.

He ignored you.

“Tell the marines whatever you like. It’s a friendly kidnapping, but it is what it is.” He paused, considering. “Since we’re taking part of your defenses, I’ll have a crew flying our colors escort you. Apologies for the interruption. I hope you find your new homes soon and you have smooth sailing the rest of the way.”

Turning on his heel, he looked down the hall and called, “Beck! Have Hongo prepare the surgery, and tell Bonk Punch to come down here.”

You followed his line of sight just in time to see a tall, grey-haired man smoking a cigarette nod and head back towards the deck. “Got it, boss.”

Red-Hair knelt beside you, and you lashed out, planting your foot in the middle of his chest so he couldn’t get any closer.

“Hey, you’ll just bleed out faster if you fight like that.” He swept around the offending limb, getting his arm under your shoulders and hoisting you to your feet.

The pain was dazzling. For a moment, everything went white, and your ears rang. You felt the pirate captain all but dragging you along like a rag doll, and staying conscious took too much effort to even try resisting again.

“Here.” He handed you off to someone with two arms. You felt them curl around you, and suddenly your feet weren’t on the floor.

Yelping in agony and indignation, you threw your fading haki out in a wave.

It did nothing.

“Be careful,” the captain said, smile and mirth returned. “She’s a fighter.”

“I got her, Captain.”

Red-Hair’s voice faded as he walked away, and you blinked after his retreating figure. “I’m going to find our guest’s quarters and make sure we don’t leave anything important behind.”

The pirate carrying you climbed the steps to the main deck, angling your combined bulk through the shattered door, and the sun blinded you all over again.

You panted, fingers twitching in a vain effort to reclaim control as you were taken. A few marines had woken, and they sat at gunpoint as the pirates completed their business. They were hardly friends, but you still tried to plead with your eyes as the man carried you off.

Each one looked away.

Fucking cowards.

Over the deck, across the boarding ramp, and onto the pirate’s vessel – you were officially stolen goods.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

}{ I Found Love Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be }{ An Empires S1 Scwhip AU }{ Content warning for suicidal thoughts. }{ next part }{

Tyrant.

Madman.

Demon sympathizer.

Scott sighed. Or he thought he did; the wind snatched away his breath so thoroughly he couldn't really tell. It stung what little skin was exposed on his face, but the sharpest part of it was the way he could hear his people's complaints in its howls.

He'd tried his hardest, these last three years, and Rivendell was well on its way to...maybe not a full recovery, but as full a recovery as any empire would have been able to manage given the circumstances. Sure, it had meant he had to make some less than popular decisions, but his kingdom was stronger because of it. His people were sheltered and fed while so much of the rest of the world shivered and starved. But because he also extended one hand in forgiveness to a former enemy and the other in offering to former allies, his efforts were for naught.

You should have died, your majesty.

Now the wind sounded like his longest-serving advisor. You should have died, the old man had told him, and Scott knew it wasn't an expression of surprise, but an admonishment. That the Rune Blade failed to kill him wasn't a miracle, but a mistake.

The wind and snow grew so cold it chilled even him, and Scott smiled bitterly. Well. No one could say he wasn't one to correct his mistakes. Let the blizzard take what the blade couldn't.

There was a cave near the top of the desolate mountain Scott climbed now, one only he knew about. Though calling it a cave was being generous; it was closer to a sheltered nook amidst the rocks for all the space it offered, barely large enough for a single elf in a traveling cloak. If he'd carried any supplies besides the waterskin and dagger tied to his belt, it would have been a tight fit. As it was, he knew from experience that there was just enough space to curl up inside and ice himself in. The water with him would last a day, and when it ran out he would have a few more after that to lie alone with his thoughts before it became absolutely necessary to leave in order to seek out food and fresh water.

Scott squinted through the blowing snow, finally able to spot his destination. His plan was the same as it had been the last two times he came here. If he was meant to keep going, the handful of days in isolation would be enough to clear his thoughts and let his resolve return. If he was meant to keep ruling, he would find the motivation to leave the cave. And if he wasn't...well. Xornoth was always complaining that Scott didn't get enough sleep. A very long rest in a frozen tomb should at least rid him of the bags under his eyes.

Despite his macabre jest, the thought of his sibling was the only regret that tugged at Scott's heart and whispered that this might be a mistake. Despite their attempts at atonement, despite it being their magic that brought Scott back from the brink of death, and despite their invaluable assistance in Rivendell's recovery after the cataclysm, the empire shunned them for their sins. It was only a hotly contested decree from Scott that allowed Xornoth to return to the land that had exiled them. Scott was the only one in all of Rivendell to speak to them or even acknowledge their presence most days. If he didn't return, they would be entirely alone.

But even that wasn't enough to cut through the dark fog that weighed down his thoughts. He'd spent so long working himself to the bone for his empire, and for the empires of his friends - the ones that had survived, anyway. But like Xornoth, Scott was utterly alone except for the awkward, fragile bond with his sibling. Pearl was dead. Lizzie had been found wandering, nearly unresponsive, and every second of Joel's time was spent caring for her. Everyone else was just...gone. Even Jimmy had disappeared, and Scott's stomach churned with unease every time he let himself think about what could possibly have prevented his betrothed from coming back to him. Some months ago an apologetic Fwhip had returned from wherever he and Gem had fled to, swearing that he would help the survivors of his empire rebuild. But then he vanished again, and Scott's hopes of having one remaining ally vanished with him.

Once, Scott had exiled himself to a frozen mountain to be alone. Now, he exiled himself to a frozen mountain because he was alone. He was so, so lonely these days. The end of the world had strengthened so many bonds across the empires as people clung desperately to what remained, but it had severed all of his. Every effort he'd put into finding the missing rulers came up empty. His advisors questioned every decision he made with suspicion, and far too many of his people looked at him with fear and anger.

He'd done all he could, and then some. There was nothing left to do now except this. Scott squeezed into the cave, and with the smallest curl of his fingers, a wall of ice swept across the entrance and cut him off from the blizzard. From the world. Scott sighed, his back to the wall, then slid down to the ground. He was really, truly -

- not alone?

His hand brushed something that was neither stone nor snow, and he looked down with a start. The ice was so thick that it turned the midday sun into twilight, and he could barely make out the shape huddled into the corner. Even so, the scales he felt under his palm as he ran his hand over the form were unmistakable. In a secret cave near the top of an uninhabited mountain in the middle of a blizzard, Scott found himself in the company of a dragon.

It took only seconds for Scott's shock and confusion to turn into worry. The mountains of Rivendell were colder than those of any other empire by far, and this was one of the coldest. Dragons, no matter what type, were by nature creatures of heat. Larger ones could rely on their own strength and magic to keep warm in chilly environments, but this one was small. It was almost as small as Gem's hatchling, despite what seemed to be the proportions of an adult, and its breath was faint as it slept. No warmth emanated from its dark scales; it was as cold as the ice that encased them both.

Cursing his decision to not bring a tinder box or even a small flint, Scott bundled the dragon into his robes and against his body before he could even think about it. Maybe, like him, the creature had come out here to die. But maybe it hadn't. Careless as he was with his own life, Scott refused to be careless with the lives of others. And certainly not now, when so few lives remained. Every one of them was more precious than ever.

The ice crumbled easily with a flick of his hand, and Scott had never been so grateful for the strides he'd made with his magic these last three years. Even the wind was weakening, though he couldn't tell if it was coincidence or conscious effort. It didn't matter; there was no time to think about it. Scott stepped out of his intended tomb, unfurled snowy wings from under his cloak, and raced toward the warmth of home.

}{

Warmth.

That was all Fwhip had the strength to be aware of, that smallest bit of warmth against his frozen body. He didn't know what it was or where it came from, but he didn't have it in him to care. He'd been so, so cold for so, so long, and now there was warmth again. The source didn't matter.

Where was he? He couldn't remember. He'd been attacked...somewhere. By someone. He was vaguely aware of that, but no details came to mind. Someone versed in magic, surely; he could feel the invisible chains of a curse wrapped tightly around his own magic. Around his body, binding his form to something small. Around his throat, binding his ability to communicate.

It didn't matter, not right now. Fwhip would find the strength to be furious later. He was just grateful that there would be a later, thanks to this small spark of warmth. For now, Fwhip allowed darkness to keep its hold on him a little longer as he slipped back into slumber.

}{ next part }{

[the-sparrohawk]

For the fic ask, Between the grave and the garden, 3 and 11 ;)

#3 -- What’s your favorite line of narration?

Soooo, yeah, this is a nearly 60K fic so it’s hard for me to choose 😆. And some of my favorite lines of narration were written by my amazing co-author, @sharpest-tongue. But I think this one of mine ranks pretty high:

He thought about Emmrich’s many bracelets and the sound they made, like the fracture of an ice-rimed puddle on a cold morning.

I love this one for several reasons. It’s a scene that takes place before Lucanis recognizes what he’s feeling for Emmrich. He’s staring at the gilt plaster on the ceiling of the parlor in Villa Dellamorte... and it reminds him of Emmrich. So that amuses me -- Lucanis's unfamiliarity with attraction, and with his own internal landscape.

And then, what does he think about those bracelets? The sound they make. The gentle, tinkling sound you hear when you step on the thin shell of ice on a frozen puddle. It’s an intentional contrast to the sound made by the gold collar chain Emmrich gave him earlier in the story, to remember Neve by:

Sinuous and bright, like the sound one blade makes touching another.

Early on in the writing, I was struggling to figure out Lucanis and Neve’s relationship. But when I wrote that line... it all came crystal clear to me. That is, for me, a perfect metaphor -- one blade touching another. They’re both so strong, so guarded. They fence with one another. Neither shares their deeper feelings readily, but they're engaged in an intimate, meaningful, fraught sort of dance.

#11 -- What do you like best about this fic?

So many things! I’ve been writing with @sharpest-tongue for over twenty years, so getting to write this with her was amazing. Maybe the most surprising and wonderful thing was discovering that I can write a novel-length story. I learned so much in the attempt, and I’m thrilled it’s been as well-received as it has!

Thank you, thank you for asking 😊. If others want to join in, check out my "fic ask" post here.

[call-sign-shark]

Blurb: 430 words for @wonderlanddreamer. Florence belongs to her.

TW: none, Hev being the creepy bitch she is. Florence being a spitfire.

There was something in her eyes...

Or, rather, there was nothing in her eyes, and that was what unsettled Florence Fletcher when she met that little angel John always talked about.

Pushed by John’s narrative, she had imagined a kind and warm little woman, with a round doll face so welcoming that she would finally feel accepted by at least one member of the Shelby clan. “She saved me life when those fucking mops shot me y’know?” He told her one night, as his strong hand gently massaged Florence’s head, their naked body intertwined under the messy bedsheets. A sweet cherub, she thought.

What she had seen during that first encounter was drastically different from what she had imagined. While utterly seraphic with her long white hair, diaphanous skin and woman-child traits, Heaven Shelby was nothing but warm. And her face was nothing but round. The French girl seemed to be carved from the coldest ice and the sharpest blade. Quite different from her with  her dark mane and her adorable pouty face John loved to kiss, even though he’d rather chop his own bollocks than admit it.

“So, you’re a journalist.” It wasn’t a question but a statement she said, her frozen iris frighteningly empty despite the mechanical smile plastered on her face. A smile that probably fooled most people, but Florence knew better than to fall for that mask. As deadly beautiful as she was, Heaven’s eyes were dead and disturbing, “I knew one… He ended up sleeping with the fishes. Dangerous career path, right?” Her smile had vanished quickly when John left the two women alone. The rapidity with which her expression dropped, replaced by a cold and neutral face, sent shivers down her spine.

“I knew a French albino girl. She was a suspected serial killer and her former fiancé a German war hero, or at least that’s what was written in the archives. Journalists, they said, make the best investigators.” Florence didn’t know where she had found the courage to utter this cutting remark but she surely knew that she regretted it instantly when she realized what she had just said.

The only reaction Heaven had was raise an eyebrow, “A clever little girl, you are. But be careful around here… The crime world is no wonderland, and you’re no Alice.” While Florence was usually skilled at reading through people, she could not tell whether the angel would pounce on her or not.

“A creepy little cat you are. Though a little less smiley than Cheshire. But certainly as mad.” Florence replied boldly, but her heart was still racing in her chest.

“Well, you must certainly be mad too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come here.”  

Heaven is Reader in the Arthur Shelby x you ongoing series Heaven in Your Eyes.

[gojoidyll]

Cuddling on a cloud with jy and your face between his tits would be perfect 🤤🤤

I think when he sneezes or snores in his sleep, there's gonna be thunder and everyone below is gonna be panicking cuz they think they did something to piss their god off 😂😂

Do you think the underworld will have lava baths??? Like a God version of a hotspring? Half naked bladie in a lava bath...ooh...

I think blade's a cinnamon roll in all your au's except the beginning of pure imagination where he basically made y/n unemployed. And then he goes back to being a cinnamon roll like : ^-^

He's mostly a cinnamon roll tho. Hehe.

And blade's first W???? Is this what I've been waiting for 🥹

Any insights on jy's and dhil's personality in God!au?

Jy is always the manipulative asshole and semi villain that some how always gets the girl.

I think dhil Is more neutral but always gets caught in jing yuan's schemes. Oddly blade and dhil are not the sharpest tools in the shed...XD.

I probably would not be able to give up my sea food. Prawn curry, fried shrimp, and fried octopus are my faves 🥹🥹

----

I've always wondered if emperor!jy did continue to sleep wuth the maids even after they got engaged?

Villain jy does still look sexy tho...even when he's evil he's hot. I will say he was bitching real bad in the emperor au tho. I have a love hate relationship with evil emperor...

I miss him 💔

Sweet emperor jy is cute and hot too but hehe, don't mind me still simping for his evil version...

I bet 5$ he's gonna kill for y/n again. And I bet another 5$ that bladie loves y/n but he can't have her. Another L for my guy.

And what happened to the clear skies au 😭😭. It was actually the first a/b/o au I've read since I don't read omegaverse or smth.

----

I'm so fkn hungry even when it like 2 am. Gonna go steal food from fridge. Have a good day <3

Lol, pi!blade being the exception for the beginning is kind of funny XD tbh, I think in the beginning I wanted him to be a mean sort of yandere, but I ended up changing him to a sweet yandere instead lmao

I def think the underworld should have some sort of hot spring like that 😂

XD yeah!! It may just be Blade's first W ... unless somethinf unfortunate were to happen in the god!au 😈

For jy's personality, I imagine him to be very confident and very smooth with what he says. Considering how sly the Greek gods were in mythology, than jy should be able to fit right in! Though, I am leaning into him being more sweet and caring haha

As dh, hes going to be cold, ice cold. Someone who absolutely loathes mankind, but thankfully our dear y/n has mc plot armor and can melt his ice cold walls 🙏 (there may be a drowning scene involved)

-

After he got engaged to y/n, he did stop sleeping around ^-^ he was still a bad guy though 😐

In fact, he will still probably be bad once I get to writing more chapters for act 2 👀

Im afraid Blade will be taking the L in that book too ...

dw clear skies still exists 😭 im actually in the middle of writing the next chapter for it! Im just very slow 🗿

-

XD hope you got the food you wanted !! And same to you ^-^

[fuckheadfelix]

I'm about to lay down the worst rhymes ever get ready

Minute maid lemonade

Capitalism kills like the sharpest blade

It's not dark, cause it is 5:49 on a sinday

whoops I meant sunday

Y'know what else is sunday? Ice cream

popsicles are cold, call that the orange dream

y'know what else is orange? Donald trump

Crushing the people with a citrus funk

And the best type of citrus is lemonade

Yeah lemonade,

like MINUTE MAID!!!!

I'm crying laughing

[red-red-spout]

Class: Chainsaw Artist

(for Buckets of Blood, probably)

Chainsaws are, objectively, the noblest of tools. All lesser instruments are dwarfed by its power and might, the sharpest of blades mere scrap metal in comparison.

There are, you know, others drawn to the call of the chainsaw, who find themselves enthralled by its siren song - from mere murderers who fail to appreciate the beauty of the machine, to dangerous madmen who lose themselves in its potency. You’re not like them at all - you’re an artisan, wielding the power of the chainsaw to create beautiful art and do beautiful things, with a healthy respect for safety and decency. Capital-c Chainsaws think you’re a prissy idiot, as do Chainsaw Wizards and Killers.

Starting skills: Either 1) Natural sciences, 2) Fine arts, 3) Classical history, 4) Literature, 5) Mechanics, 6) Law

Starting equipment: tasteful and seasonally appropriate outfit, a set of proper safety gear (hardhat with faceshield and earmuffs, + protective vest, gloves, chaps, boots, etc), license and certification to operate power tools, a well-maintained, properly registered, and legally purchased chainsaw, and 2d4 hours worth of fuel

A: Power Sculpting, ChΔinsΔw Δrts B: Chainsaw Connoisseur C: Ambidextrous D: King of Tools

Power Sculpting: You’re a master of chainsaw-assisted sculpture. You’re proficient with all typical forms of chainsaw-assisted sculpture (really just wood and ice), and can gain proficiency in any other sculptural material or type of art which you can justify performing with a chainsaw with a day of practice.

ChΔinsΔw Δrts: You have the ability to learn “chainsaw arts”, special techniques performable with a chainsaw. You do not gain these automatically but must fufill some requirement first. Treat as delta templates basically

Chainsaw Connoisseur: You’ve developed an even more extensive knowledge of chainsaws. You can identify the specific make, model, and modifications of any chainsaw on sight, know by heart the years specific models were manufactured, and can psychoanalyze people from the marks they make with chainsaws.

Ambidextrous: Your skill with chainsaws is such that you can use them with no penalty in any pose or position- running, climbing, somersaulting, held with feet or in teeth, it doesn’t matter, you use them with the same grace as you would if held perfectly straight and two-handed.

King of Tools: You can use chainsaws in place of essentially any other tool, as long as it makes some sense - can use a chainsaw as a mixer, can-opener, beard shaver, etc. Also, if you couldn’t before, you are now fluent in chainsaw - both the spoken (unhinged screaming/extremely loud motor noises) and the written (chainsaw gouge marks - chainsaws love writing shitty, self-aggrandizing poetry on the things they cut).

ChΔinsΔw Δrts, list- These are special techniques you can learn to do with chainsaws, but you don’t get them automatically or by leveling. Only way to learn them is either through fufilling the requirements or by being taught them by another Chainsaw Artist.

Technically speaking anyone can learn them through the latter route (though not the former), but Chainsaw Artists generally refuse to teach anyone except other Chainsaw Artists, some excuse about being “trained professionals performing high-skilled techniques of potentially great danger to amateurs” or some shit like that.

Not a complete list, if you can think of any others you can also unlock those probably as long as there’s an appropriate prerequisite for unlocking.

Δ: Chainsaw Grease Chainsaw-sculpt a statue out of butter. Must be at least 5’ tall. Keep it on public display in pristine condition for a week. If it’s stolen or destroyed (by melting, animals, vandalism, etc), start again. Using some weird trick with the internal mechanisms, render some part of the fuel of your chainsaw into lubicrant, then dump it on the floor - 10’ pool diameter for every half-hour of fuel so expended, dex save vs slipping.

Δ: Chainsaw Light Chainsaw your way out of a burning building. The fire can be one you set yourself, but it doesn’t count unless there’s serious danger to yourself involved. You can fiddle with the chainsaw such that part of it’s fuel is caught on the chain and ignited. Somehow, this is perfectly safe - for the chainsaw, that is, not anything you set it on. Sets anything flammable you cut with it on fire, sheds light like a torch, burns through fuel at 4x normal rate as long as it’s burning.

Δ: Chainsaw Invisibility Sneak past people who seriously intend to kill, arrest, or otherwise harm you while keeping your chainsaw running, fully revved up and such. As long as you’re concentrating on making it so, your chainsaw is imperceptible to anyone save wizards and other chainsaw users (chainsaw wizards, killers, artists, etc). No matter how openly you display it or how loudly you rev it, they’ll simply attribute it to an odd fashion choice or something with the pipes. They can still perceive stuff you do with the chainsaw, they just can’t comprehend how exactly you’re doing it.

Δ: Chainsaw Knock/Lock Get one of your chainsaw sculptures into an art gallery. Has to be a real one, the fancier the better. You can precisely mangle locks with your chainsaw, while leaving whatever object they’re attached to untouched. The lock becomes either locked or unlocked, your choice - this is irreversible, on account of the lock being mangled by a chainsaw into tangle of scrap metal.

Δ: Chainsaw Feather Fall Survive a fall from a distance high enough to kill you while carrying a chainsaw While falling, no matter the speed or distance, you can break your fall by grabbing onto any nearby walls, trees, etc, with your chainsaw, allowing you to slow your descent to any speed you wish, preventing fall damage. This effect also applies to anyone else who holds onto you while you’re using it.

Δ: Chainsaw Create Food and Water Get at least 50 different people to eat food you made with a chainsaw in a single day. Sneak into a restaurant maybe? You can use chainsaw fuel as a food additive without people noticing. Can stretch two rations into seven for every hour of Chainsaw fuel you expend. Still gain full benefit from consumption.

This is Chainsaw Feather Fall, basically.

I have no idea if this fits the whole Buckets of Blood theme but it also doesn’t make much sense except in relation to two existing buckets of blood classes so.

Basically the idea here is like, reverse Chainsaw Killer as opposite exaggerated Chainsaw Wizard, emphasizing the Wizard-y aspects over the Chainsaw-y aspects.

Not super supernatural, though there are plenty of impossibilities - the intent here is essentially that the Chainsaw Artist is, rather than possessing any supernatural connections themselves, simply so skilled at their craft (that being doing stunts with chainsaws) as to reach essentially supernatural heights.

As usual, this class has not been play tested at all and it’s probably insanely unbalanced.

Has mixing GLΔG-style delta template advancement into an ordinary ABCD 4-level advancement schema been done before? No idea.

All the Chainsaw Arts are intended to be mostly utility-focused on purpose, since I want to make something with a different skillset to either of the existing Chainsaw classes, though there’s probably some overlap.

[fromthebeddesk]

WIP Questions Tag

I wasn't actually tagged by anyone, but @owlsandwich opened it up to everybody so I'm giving this a try! Open tag, but also no pressure tags to @somethingclevermahogony , @queen-of-the-weenies and @sarandipitywrites !

We're gonna do my main current WIP, God-Touched, and also a couple I've tabled for a bit due to stress, which are called Gods of Steel, and Nico after the name of the MC, respectively. I copy pasted the questions and I may have missed one or two.

What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

God-Touched: This is more of an overall writing struggle for me, but underwriting/being too concise. I tend to make unnecessary time skips when outlining and not add enough descriptive passages.

Gods of Steel: The world building. I usually enjoy complex world building, but I may have bitten off more than I can chew with this project. I'm taking it slow and building one aspect of it at a time as I'm motivated to do the necessary research, so fingers crossed that works out.

Nico: This one's kinda stupid, but keeping myself from imagining my protagonist as Nico di Angelo. She's completely different in appearance, mannerisms, etc, but I'm a rabid PJO fan and that was my first association with the name.

If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

God-Touched: Definitely something by Imagine Dragons, probably Natural.

Gods of Steel: Probably some kind of epic orchestral thing, I haven't found a specific track yet.

Nico: Song Of Women by the HU and Lzzy Hale. Going purely off of sound and vibes.

What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

God-Touched: Supernatural, Firefly, the King Arthur reincarnated as a space lesbian book (Once and Future) and the book Spellhacker by MK England.

Gods of Steel: This is gonna sound really presumptuous, but I'm trying to make it similar to Dune and the Na'vi Avatar movies.

Nico: Honestly, Tamora Pierce, even though my story is more sci-fi than fantasy. Also slightly the Divergent movie (haven't read the book in years), in that the MC slowly realizes just how much of a dystopia she's actually living in, even though she started out compliant.

What was the first part of your wip that you created?

God-Touched: The general concept of Christian mythology put into a queer science fantasy context.

Gods of Steel: The setting, (humanity's original non-Earth home), and some of its history.

Nico: The idea for the relationship arc between the two main characters. It was the first time I'd ever wanted to write romance, and it was an interesting challenge to come up with how that would play out.

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

God-Touched: This is a major spoiler, but the main gang ends up adopting an iridescent rainbow baby space dragon. She looks majestic, but is actually a huge derpy goof. She's heavily based on Banana, my little sister's big ginger cat who is not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box

Gods of Steel: The main villains on this story are cyborgs, but some are cyborg animals rather than people. They started out as normal robots, but then got this virus that made them grow flesh, skin and other organic parts, but many of the animal-like ones still have working blades or guns as part of their bodies that they use when hunting humans for food.

Nico: The fauna of the setting for this one is very ice age influenced, the main character has a war mammoth that she's raised from a calf to be her mount and companion.

What part of your wip are you working on rn?

God-Touched: First draft of the first two books, if all goes well it's gonna be a five book series.

Gods of Steel: World Building.

Nico: In my first stage of outlining.

How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

God-Touched: spaceships and hover bikes

Gods of Steel: spaceships, then on foot after all their tech gets infected by the cyborgs.

Nico: Mammoth-back riding.

What are your hopes for your wip?

This is the same for all of them so I'll just do one answer: A devoted fandom that uses my books as inspiration to create their own awesome content. Fanart, fanfic, animatics, those character analysis YouTube videos, anything like that.

[diablries-2]

open starter | be gentle im vulnerable rn

head cocks to the side , eyes narrowed into slits upon approaching figure , a step back taken with all the subtlety of a decorated soldier . " is there something i can do for you ? " centuries could not dislodge upbringing , manners weilded like the sharpest of blades ! the tone to slither from forked tongue is polite in the barest of senses , bland and cool as the ice that ran through frosted veins .

[zorkaya-moved]

character centric drabble : kaveh, the architect. // @avaere

I am coming through autumn, Coming to you along dark sleepers. Every step is a road into the fire, a road to the fire - It is necessary for me to tell you that there is so little time And that I love you.

A maiden born from winter, you’ve gone through snowy plains and icy terrains to shape yourself into the sharpest blade and sturdiest shield. You’ve forgotten life of joy and living, you’ve long forgotten the very reason why humans live the way they do: because they live, because they look forward, not because they survive and have a sight on world-changing changes. No, they live and you must, too. 

It is why the presence of the architect from Sumeru shatters your shields you’ve built around yourself as the world never protected you. But he never does it with any violence, no, he smiles and ice shatters before him like it held on the last threads of its existence. He smiles and the Sun starts to shine on those icy sculptures representing your dreams that you froze inside yourself as you cannot allow yourself to long for the normalcy, you’ve never expected anyone to touch the thorns and still be comfortable with cold touches. 

Oh, but he’ll bleed for others and you know he’ll bleed for you, too. 

He’ll bleed to warm your icy visage, to give color to those cheeks and ease your burden of solitude, because his heart is one of Sun and light. Stars shine in his eyes and his smile makes life dance in the humid forests of Sumeru. No Archon can best him in beauty, in kindness, in what he makes you feel. If an Archon has followers who worship them, you’d be his tamed beast and his worshiper because you know that any word of his will be your undoing because that warm touch has a grasp on your heart, your soul, your life. But you cannot give him anything aside yourself, but will it be enough for everything he gives you? 

He asks for no riches, no gold and no silver, no scrolls filled with names and their secrets. Instead, he reaches for your hand and dances with you when stars shine above and the music fills the air. His face that lights up makes your heart skip a beat and suddenly the abyssal whispers become quieter, the beast in your purrs and you feel yourself soften, warmth blossoming in your chest like the first bloom of Snezhnaya.

It’s warm, you’re walking on the road of fire and feel the icy self of yours melt beneath such striking fire. But just like he’ll bleed to warm your moonlit visage, you’ll melt to ease his self-sacrificing flame of kindness beneath the sunlight. You will not die, you’ll always tell him you’ll be back to him no matter what because if you disappear… Who will remind him to care for himself, to be selfish and to be greedy? Who will be there to hold him close and spoil him in love, so genuine and so true that poems would be written about the two of you? You’ll never allow yourself to harm him, to allow any harm to come to him as you are in love with him, desperately and obsessively in love with him.

Time ticks behind you when you two laugh and smile, the knowledge of the doom causes you to slow down your steps when you talk and when he looks at you? Asks you what is wrong? You want to tell him, but there is a chain around your neck that’s been strangling you since you were a child. You are a beast, a monster, an apathetic being. You are the beauty that kills and lures, but you know you’ll never let a hair on the architect’s head to be harmed, to be touched, to be claimed by anyone but you. So you steel yourself, remembering his promise of protection. 

But can he protect you? Can you let him protect you? 

—If not him, then who? 

How dare you speak of love when you know that it must be mutual, it must be mutual in protection and communication. Your parents were your guiding light in love, they’ve spoken and they’ve talked. They’ve accepted and they’ve moved on. 

But will he be the same? 

His gaze tells you yes, your cynicism tells you no. 

But you decide to believe him, you believe him and you take his hand as he leads you towards the road of sunlight and greenery. His hand is warm, you feel the temptation of falling apart. Right here in the middle of a garden of life where no ice will survive, no winter will come, and no place for her truly exists. Not in this land of goodness and blessings, but by his side? You know he’ll make a home in the middle of this garden just for you to know you can return. To him, to your little home, to an impossible dream made possible with three words and a bright smile. 

So when he tilts his head in curiosity when you stop, holding his hand in yours, you tell him with a trembling voice: 

“I love you.” 

You feel how this road of fire melts your guard up, the road towards him and his love will be paved in sun and light, but you’ll go through it because you want to be with him, to love him, to betray your own ideals and your own cynical frigidness. Selfishly, you hold his hand and you find yourself scared. As if the confession of love you’ve always done feels raw and it tears apart at your throat, you know the beast inside of you claws at your existence, crying: see me, accept me, embrace me, don’t look away and let my winter finally bear its first and last bloom before time runs out. 

“I love you.” 

You repeat, your voice trembles and you feel yourself shattering. In this garden full of life and on this road into the fire, you know your time is running out. The time to confess, to explain, to stop hiding, to finally let his words sink so deeply within you that if he pushes you away, you’ll never see color in this unfair world. But you trust him, you trust in your mutual love, and you reach out to him like you never reached out to anyone else. 

—Let me learn how to learn on you, rely on you, and let you protect me. It’ll take me long, forgive me.

You press your lips together, suddenly feeling how your eyes are filling up with tears. In the golden shine of the Sun he looks divine and you cannot let this shine to be harmed by secrets, by half-truths and by masks. 

You don’t have time to spare to delay, you’ll lose the chance if you do not say it now. Confess your sins to the Dendro Archon not because you feel bad for them but because it means a future with him. Betray your ideals and your ambition from childhood to embrace what you heart longs for, always did and always will. 

Years upon years of distance and lament, the solitude and soft hopes that someone will reach out. You’ve become strong to protect your family but did you ever let anyone protect you? Allow anyone to protect you? Your tears tell another tale, they are crystal clear despite the blood you’ve spilled mercilessly for the sake of your own goals, but when he cups your face, worried and concerned, you want to weep and you want to cry like a little girl from your childhood who cried for someone to save her, protect her, keep her, hold her, tell her it’ll be alright. 

“I love you, Kaveh.” 

You sob into his chest as his arms hold your trembling and vulnerable form. In the middle of a sunny road paved with greenery and flowers where you’ve never belonged. You belong to roads of ice, forged through blood and steel and survivors’ screams but for now, by his side, you want to belong to these sunny plains and flowers, in the warmth of your beloved. 

So you let him hold you, protect you, ask what’s wrong.

And you cry, because you’ve never cried like this. You’ve never let your tears be truly seen by anyone, but you are tired and you were envious of those who could do it. And right now? On this road into the fire, you’ll melt in the embrace of fire because you finally have a place to belong to (a person to love you) in a place where winter was never welcome. 

“Please,” you sob out again, clinging to him, desperate for him to stay. “Don’t let go. Don’t let this be a dream.”

Protect me, please, let me be weak before you. 

“Don’t disappear.”

Like mom and dad did. 

“Let me stay by your side.”

Even when the sun exposes my blood soaked hands.

You don't have much time left until your plans may ruin it all, if you do not confess your sins. So bask in his love before it's too late and the serpent dreaming of your demise will remains deep within the hidden laboratory where death (you) claimed countless lives in the name of human ambition.

[medicbled]

i need my head to stop spinning. ( from bruce! ) @9otham

she  moves  methodically.  a  rhythmic  dance  spun  too  many  times;  disinfectant,  sterile  dressing,  butterfly  bandage.  every  motion  is  precise,  the  quiet  care  born  from  muscle  memory  and  something  heavier.  the  gym  half  lit,  scent  of  rain  from  the  half-open  window  airing  out  a  day  of  exertion.  it’s  late,  too  late  for  anyone  else  but  she’s  here,  along with the doberman  slumbering  peacefully  in  the  corner  of  her  office.  she’s  bare  foot,  freshly  taped  knuckles  counting  his  luck  and  misfortune  at  once.  one  that  she  was  here….and  again,  that  she  was  here.  the  overly  stocked  kit  balanced  on  her  leg,  a  slight  grimace  worn  on  her  features.  ❛  in  my  defence,  i  said  i  wouldn’t  hold  back. ❜

still  she  wears  the  worry  between  her  brow.  a  knot  of  guilt  caught  between  her  ribs  and  sinking  like  a  stone.  sometimes,  she  worries  if  it’s  all  too  much.  that  violence  humming  beneath  her  skin  even  the  sharpest  blade  couldn’t  cut  out.  a  spar  that  ends  in  split  skin  and  all  because  she  couldn’t  balance  the  gentleness  in  her  bite.  the  instinct  with  sharpest  maw,  wardog  backed  into  a  corner  and  unaware  that  there  was  no  real  threat.  the  crack  of  an  ice  pack,  coolness  lifted  to  his  brow.  ❛ is  that  literal  or  figurative  because  i  need  to  figure  out  how  to  treat  you  right  now.  could  be  the  difference  between  a  glass  of  scotch  and  concussion  protocol.  ❜

[lolpuns]

30 Knife Puns That Will Have You Laughing on the Cutting Edge | Sharpen Your Humor

https://lolpuns.com/?p=1968 30 Knife Puns That Will Have You Laughing on the Cutting Edge | Sharpen Your Humor Looking to sharpen your humor? We’ve got you covered with the most cutting-edge knife puns that are sure to slice through any awkward silence. Whether you’re a chef, a collector, or just someone who appreciates a good play on words, these knife jokes will have everyone in stitches—the good kind! We’ve carved out time to compile the funniest, most point-ed knife puns that’ll give you the edge in any conversation. From butter knives to chef’s knives, our collection cuts across all types and styles. These puns aren’t just for show—they’re practical tools for breaking the ice and showing off your sharp wit at parties, in kitchens, or anywhere laughter is needed. Table of Contents Toggle Knife Puns That Will Have You on the Cutting Edge of Humor10 Sharp-Witted Knife Puns to Slice Through Awkward ConversationsKitchen Knife Puns That Chefs Will AppreciateButter Knife Puns for Smooth DeliveryWhy Knife Puns Make the Point at Every Dinner PartyBreaking the Ice with Blade-Based HumorWhen to Cut Back on the Knife Jokes7 Knife Puns That Are a Cut Above the RestKnife Puns That Will Keep You on the Edge of Your SeatHow to Carve Out Your Own Knife PunsCore MechanismsThematic InfluencesStructure ExamplesPractical TipsThe History of Knife Humor: How These Jokes Made the CutConclusion: Sharpen Your Wit With These Knife-tastic PunsFrequently Asked QuestionsWhat are knife puns, and why are they popular?How can I use knife puns effectively at a dinner party?Are there different types of knife puns for different occasions?How can I create my own knife puns?What’s the history behind knife humor?Why are knife puns considered the “sharpest” form of humor?Can knife puns be used professionally?Are there any knife puns I should avoid? Knife Puns That Will Have You on the Cutting Edge of Humor I don’t trust knives because they’re always up to something sharp! The chef’s knife collection grew so large it became a real point of contention in his marriage. My favorite knife just got stolen – that really cuts deep. Knife shopping can be expensive, but the good ones are worth every slice of your budget. Professional chefs know that a dull joke is like a dull knife – neither gets the job done. We tried to tell knife jokes at dinner, but they kept falling flat on the cutting board. Butter knives can’t believe how spread thin they are at fancy dinner parties. A good kitchen knife is like a faithful friend – always there when you need to make the cut. Knife enthusiasts are always living on the edge. Swiss Army knives never feel lonely because they’ve got so many attachments. Bread knives make a lot of dough in their line of work. Pocket knives are just trying to stay sharp in a fold-up economy. The steak knife told the butter knife, “You better spread out, I’ve got this cut covered.” Knife salespeople always have a point to make during their pitches. Ceramic knives lead such a fragile existence, they’re constantly on edge. Hunting knives are naturally outdoorsy – they can’t help but be a bit wild. The paring knife complained about being overlooked, but we told it to cut the drama. Our knife block is running out of slots – we might need to cut back on our collection. Dull knives in the kitchen are pointless. Serrated edges have a real tooth for cutting through tough situations. 10 Sharp-Witted Knife Puns to Slice Through Awkward Conversations Looking to cut through the tension at your next gathering? We’ve assembled the sharpest knife puns guaranteed to carve out some laughs. “Why don’t knives play poker? They’re too sharp to be bluffed.” Even the slickest card sharks can’t deceive these keen-edged tools! “What do you call a troublemaker knife? A blade-runner.” This pun slices right through sci-fi references for double the humor. “Why did the knife get promoted? It always made the cut.” Success in the cutlery industry depends on performance under pressure. “How did the knife win the argument? It had a cutting point.” Nothing defeats logic like a well-honed perspective. “Why was the knife calm? It knew how to handle pressure.” True composure comes from being comfortable with your grip on situations. “What’s a knife’s workout? Slice training.” Every blade needs regular exercise to stay in peak cutting condition. “This blade is a cut above the rest.” Quality always stands out in the crowded cutlery drawer of life. “His humor is as sharp as a chef’s knife.” Wit that can slice through any social situation deserves recognition. “A sharp knife is a slice of heaven.” True culinary enthusiasts understand the divine pleasure of working with well-maintained tools. “The cook’s enthusiasm is as sharp as their knife.” Passion in the kitchen translates directly to the edge of your blade. Kitchen Knife Puns That Chefs Will Appreciate Professional chefs live by their blades, making knife humor particularly delicious in culinary settings. “The sous chef couldn’t cut it, so they gave him the chop” resonates with anyone who’s experienced kitchen hierarchy. “Her knife skills are razor sharp” celebrates technical precision that every aspiring chef strives to achieve. Restaurant veterans love hearing that “The chef’s reputation is a cut above,” acknowledging their standing in the culinary community. Remember that “In the kitchen, a sharp knife makes fine cuisine” isn’t just a pun—it’s a fundamental truth of professional cooking that makes the wordplay even more satisfying. Butter Knife Puns for Smooth Delivery Butter knives offer uniquely spreadable humor for lighter occasions. “What did the butter say to the knife? ‘You’re too sharp for me!'” plays on the delightful contrast between butter’s softness and a knife’s edge. Produce lovers might appreciate “Keep calm and carrot on,” a clever play on paring knives and their vegetable-prepping capabilities. These milder puns work wonderfully at breakfast tables or afternoon tea, where butter knives make frequent appearances. The best butter knife puns spread joy as easily as their namesakes spread condiments, making them perfect for family gatherings or casual meals where sharper humor might not be appropriate. Why Knife Puns Make the Point at Every Dinner Party Knife puns have a special way of slicing through tension and adding a sharp edge of humor to dinner conversations. These clever wordplays typically revolve around terms like “cut,” “edge,” “blade,” and “sharpen,” creating perfect opportunities for laughter while passing the salad bowl. You’ll find guests chuckling at classics like “What do you call a knife that’s always getting into trouble? A blade-runner” or “Why did the knife get promoted? It always made the cut.” Breaking the Ice with Blade-Based Humor Blade-based humor serves as an excellent conversation starter at social gatherings where guests might not know each other well. Kitchen settings naturally lend themselves to these puns, as cooking tools surround everyone and provide immediate visual references. Guests often relax when someone asks, “Why did the knife go to the gym? To get a sharp edge.” The unexpected connection between knives and fitness creates an instant moment of shared amusement. Another crowd-pleaser asks about a knife’s favorite workout routine—”slice training”—which typically generates groans and smiles in equal measure. These lighthearted jokes create common ground among diverse guests, effectively cutting through awkward silences that might otherwise dominate the early moments of your dinner party. When to Cut Back on the Knife Jokes Moderation proves essential when deploying knife puns at your social gatherings. Using these jokes sparingly ensures they maintain their impact rather than becoming dull through overuse. The context and timing of your blade-based wordplay significantly influences how guests receive them—a well-placed pun during meal preparation differs greatly from an endless string of knife references throughout dinner. Guests might initially appreciate hearing that the knife “felt like it was getting stuck in a rut,” but continuous knife jokes can quickly wear thin. Reading your audience helps determine when enough is enough; watch for genuine laughter versus polite smiles to gauge when it’s time to switch conversational topics. Remember that even the sharpest wit loses its edge when overused, so save some of your best knife puns for future gatherings. 7 Knife Puns That Are a Cut Above the Rest This blade is a real cut above the rest. We love this classic pun for emphasizing excellence by comparing achievements or quality to a superior knife. It’s perfect for complimenting a chef’s exceptional dish or acknowledging someone’s outstanding performance in any field. He always brings his best knife to slice the competition. This clever wordplay highlights competitive edge and sharpness, particularly effective in culinary contests or professional kitchen settings. Chefs often use this expression when discussing how they prepare for cooking competitions. A knife that can spread rumors? That’s a gossip blade. We find this play on words particularly amusing as it combines the cutting action of a knife with the concept of spreading information. It’s a witty way to describe someone who shares too much or spreads stories too quickly. Let’s cut to the cheese with this knife pun. This humorous expression suggests getting straight to the point or main topic, using cheese as a metaphor for the core of something. It’s a fun alternative to the more common “cut to the chase” while maintaining a culinary theme. My chef friend is absolutely cutting edge. Using “cutting edge” to describe someone at the forefront of their field creates a perfect double meaning that works especially well in the culinary industry. This pun celebrates innovation and expertise while making a direct reference to knife skills. Don’t play with knives unless you’re cutting up a joke. We appreciate how this pun cleverly combines safety advice with humor, suggesting that knives should only be used for serious tasks or comedic purposes. It serves as both a warning and an invitation to more wordplay. Knife puns: the sharpest form of humor. This statement perfectly captures why these puns are so effective, classifying them as exceptionally witty and amusing. Just like a well-honed blade, these jokes make precise cuts and leave lasting impressions on your audience. Knife Puns That Will Keep You on the Edge of Your Seat Why don’t knives ever gossip? They’re too sharp to spread rumors! This cutting joke showcases how knives maintain their integrity by not dulling their reputation with hearsay. Slicing through procrastination is a sharp decision. We’ve found that this pun motivates action while cleverly referencing the decisive nature of a clean cut. Let’s cut to the cheese with this knife pun. This playful twist on “cut to the chase” works perfectly at dinner parties when serving appetizers, creating an immediate connection between your actions and words. Finding the right kitchen knife can be a slashing success. Anyone who’s spent time comparing cutlery knows this truth – the perfect knife transforms your cooking experience from frustrating to fantastic. The chef’s knife skills are razor sharp. Professional culinary artists demonstrate precision that’s both admirable and intimidating, making this pun particularly effective in restaurant settings. In the kitchen, a sharp knife makes for fine cuisine. This practical observation doubles as a clever pun, acknowledging how proper tools elevate cooking results dramatically. She handles her knife like a true culinary artist. Watching an expert manipulate their blade with confidence creates a perfect opportunity for this appreciative wordplay. Bad money knives out good. This creative replacement of “drives” with “knives” offers financial wisdom wrapped in blade-based humor. A bunch of knives. Substituting “fives” with “knives” creates an unexpected visual that catches listeners off guard in the best possible way. Having a sharp wit is like having a keen knife. Both cut through unnecessary complications and get straight to the point, making this comparison especially fitting for quick-thinking friends. His humor is as honed as a samurai’s sword. This pun elevates standard knife humor by introducing the prestigious craftsmanship associated with samurai blades. Her humor is as sharp as a chef’s knife. We appreciate how this pun connects culinary expertise with clever conversational skills, celebrating precision in both domains. How to Carve Out Your Own Knife Puns Creating your own knife puns isn’t as difficult as it may seem. We’ve found that the best knife wordplay relies on exact mechanisms that blend sharpness, cutting elements, and culinary tools. Here’s our step-by-step guide to crafting puns that will keep your audience on the edge of their seats. Core Mechanisms Homophones and Sound-Alikes – Replace common words with knife-related terms whenever possible. Try swapping “life” with “knife” to create phrases like “a day in the knife of a chef” instead of “a day in the life.” This simple substitution instantly creates a cutting-edge pun. Double Meanings – Use words that have both literal and figurative interpretations. Phrases involving “cutting” work brilliantly because they can refer to actual slicing or making critical remarks. For instance, “They’re too sharp to spread rumors” plays on both knife sharpness and smart decision-making. Blade-Related Verbs – Incorporate terms like slice, carve, hone, or chop into everyday expressions. “Slicing through procrastination is a sharp decision” transforms productivity advice into a clever knife reference that sticks with listeners. Thematic Influences Culinary Context – Kitchens provide fertile ground for knife humor. Professional chefs particularly appreciate puns like “The chef’s favorite knife is always on point,” which celebrates both quality tools and expertise. Tool Functionality – Highlight the precision or potential danger of knives for humor. We love puns such as “Knives can’t keep secrets—they always spill the beans,” which personifies knives while referencing their cutting function. Metaphorical Edges – Connect sharpness to wit or intelligence in your wordplay. “His humor is as sharp as a chef’s knife” creates an instant mental image while paying a compliment. Structure Examples Pun + Setup – Format your knife puns as mini-jokes with a setup and punchline: “Why did the knife fail school? It couldn’t handle the pressure.” This structure builds anticipation before delivering the humor. Adjective Pivots – Use descriptive words that apply to both knives and other contexts: “This blade is a real cut above the rest.” Such puns work by transferring quality descriptions between domains. Practical Tips Audience Awareness – Tailor your puns to your listeners. Culinary professionals might appreciate technical references about “honing skills,” while general audiences connect better with relatable humor about “cutting tension.” Simplicity Works Best – Avoid overcomplicating your wordplay. Direct word swaps like “knife to meet you” often generate the biggest laughs because they’re instantly recognizable and easy to process. By applying these techniques, we guarantee you’ll be crafting knife puns that make the cut at your next gathering. Remember that the best puns achieve humor through their “cutting-edge” duality—they work on multiple levels and leave your audience hungry for more wordplay. The History of Knife Humor: How These Jokes Made the Cut Knife puns have expertly carved their unique niche in the industry of humor through clever wordplay and cultural adaptability. Their foundation rests on the dual meanings of terms like “sharp,” “cutting,” and “edge,” creating versatile jokes that work perfectly in culinary discussions, social gatherings, and historical commentary. Throughout history, blade-related humor dates back centuries, with roots firmly planted in both the functional and symbolic uses of knives. Many ancient cultures viewed knives as symbols of strength and honor, yet early humorists found ways to subvert this serious symbolism by pairing literal blades with metaphorical wit. Japanese culture offers a fascinating example, where exact terminology distinguishing blades by their origin later inspired localized puns that reflected cultural nuances. The medieval period contributed significantly to knife humor when social etiquette began to evolve. Cardinal Richelieu’s 17th-century etiquette reforms, which promoted the blunting of table knives, inadvertently sparked creative jokes about knife purpose and misuse. These historical shifts demonstrate how knife humor has always adapted to changing societal norms. Culinary contexts remain the primary stage for knife puns today, with chefs and food enthusiasts regularly employing phrases like “on point” or “cutting-edge” to add levity to cooking discussions. Pop culture has amplified this trend considerably, embedding blade-related jokes into media dialogue and creating social media movements like the popular hashtag #SharpWit. Modern iterations of knife humor have taken on therapeutic dimensions, with jokes like “Why did the knife go to therapy? It had deep cuts!” blending psychological humor with traditional blade imagery. The persistence of knife puns across centuries underscores their remarkable adaptability, evolving alongside language and societal shifts while maintaining their sharp relevance in contemporary humor. Conclusion: Sharpen Your Wit With These Knife-tastic Puns We hope these knife puns have given you the cutting edge in humor you’ve been looking for. Armed with this arsenal of blade-based wordplay you’ll never be caught without a sharp comeback. Whether you’re a chef looking to spice up kitchen conversations or simply want to slice through awkward moments at your next dinner party these puns are tools for your social toolkit. Remember that like any good knife timing and precision matter when delivering these jokes. Use them wisely and you’ll carve out a reputation as someone who truly understands the point of good humor. Stay sharp friends! Frequently Asked Questions What are knife puns, and why are they popular? Knife puns are wordplays that use knife-related terms for humorous effect. They’re popular because they’re universally relatable (everyone uses knives), can ease tension in social settings, and work well in culinary environments. These puns capitalize on double meanings of words like “sharp,” “cutting,” and “slice,” making them accessible humor for various audiences. How can I use knife puns effectively at a dinner party? Use knife puns sparingly and with good timing. Read the room before launching into pun territory. Start with one clever pun to gauge reaction, then add more if received well. They work best when relevant to the conversation or activity (like while cooking or carving). Remember that moderation keeps the humor sharp—too many puns might dull their impact. Are there different types of knife puns for different occasions? Yes! Kitchen knife puns work well with professional chefs, butter knife puns are perfect for family gatherings, and Swiss Army knife jokes are versatile for any situation. For culinary events, use puns about cutting skills; for casual settings, lighter puns about butter knives. Match your pun style to your audience for the best reception. How can I create my own knife puns? Create knife puns by using homophones (words that sound alike), playing with double meanings, or incorporating blade-related verbs into everyday phrases. Start by listing knife-related terms (cut, slice, sharp, edge), then brainstorm similar-sounding words or phrases. Keep puns simple and relevant to your audience. Practice delivery for maximum impact. What’s the history behind knife humor? Knife humor dates back centuries, evolving from medieval dining etiquette and kitchen traditions. Historical examples include jokes from early cookbooks and tavern humor. The dual meanings of terms like “sharp” and “cutting” have helped knife puns adapt across cultures and eras. Modern knife humor gained popularity through culinary TV shows and social media, making it a staple in contemporary comedy. Why are knife puns considered the “sharpest” form of humor? Knife puns are considered the “sharpest” form of humor because they combine accessibility with cleverness. They provide unexpected twists on familiar objects, create instant mental images, and usually deliver quick punchlines. Their versatility allows them to “cut through” awkward situations while being appropriate for diverse audiences. Their precision in wordplay makes them particularly satisfying when crafted well. Can knife puns be used professionally? Absolutely! Knife puns work well in culinary presentations, restaurant marketing, cooking classes, and food industry conferences. They can lighten technical demonstrations, make educational content more memorable, and build rapport with audiences. Professional chefs often use them to ease pressure in busy kitchens and connect with diners when presenting elaborate dishes. Are there any knife puns I should avoid? Avoid puns that might seem threatening or violent, especially in sensitive settings. Steer clear of jokes that could be interpreted as actual threats, puns that mock safety concerns, or jokes targeting specific individuals. Always consider your audience and setting. In professional environments, avoid overly silly puns that might undermine expertise or credibility. https://lolpuns.com/?p=1968 LOL Puns

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Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] Product Description Gopi String Plastic Chopper Gopi String Plastic Chopper is a great addition to your kitchen. Designed to increase efficiency in the kitchen, the unique tools and accessories from Gopi are made from good quality Stainless Steel, food-grade plastics. They combine fabulous designs with functionality to give you perfect service for years to come. Save time in food preparation with Gopi tools and accessories. Food prep made easy! Gopi String Chopper with sharpest, wear-resistant triple blade. Versatile This food processor chops everything from onions and garlic to fruits and vegetables in just a few seconds. Now chop boneless meat & vegetables, make salads and sauces. Crush ice and enjoy frozen drinks. Four setting in slicer-dicer disk for fine and thick juliennes as well as fine and thick slicing. Cooking made easy with this tool! Different Chopping Sizes You can now control the size of the ingredient that you are chopping with just a pull of the string. The intensity of the pulls that you perform will determine the size of your ingredient. Ergonomic design Why do you need this vegetable chopper? Are you still tearfully chopping onions? Are you still worried about the smell of chopping garlic? Are you still spend a lot of time on chopping vegetables when you want to eat dumplings at home? Are you still suffer from the mess on your kitchen counter? Now, with our manual food processor, you can chop onions in seconds without crying, and chopping garlic without smell. Eating dumplings at home is no longer a dream. Most importantly, it keeps your kitchen clean. The features of our onion chopper: Save your food preparing time: All you have to do is pull the string few times, you can chop the big chunk of vegetables into small pieces.Useful for many different types of vegetables, boneless meat, fruits, nuts and much more.4 cups capacity, it can meet the needs of most families. It is very fit for small kitchens, RVs, travel and camping and so on. A small amount of ingredients can be done perfectly.Safe to use: no need electrical, no need to contact blades when chopping foods. You'll never have to worry about hurting your fingers while cutting foodEasy clean: Wash the bowl under running water. The blades are top rack dishwasher safe.Safe material: the blades are made from 420 stainless steel which imported from Germany, other part of the portable chopper is made from 100% BPA free ABS and PS. More durable. Variation In Colour GREY CHOPPER Grey Chopper Has 6 Blades (1000 ML) capacity. GREEN CHOPPER Green Chopper Has 6 Blades (1000 ML) capacity.

PURPLE CHOPPER Purple Chopper Has 6 Blades (1000 ML) capacity. BLACK CHOPPER Black Chopper Has 6 Blades (1000 ML) capacity. Seamlessly chops all types of fruits & vegetables This manual chopper, chops and cuts vegetables in a hassle-free manner with minimal effort. Made From high quality material for longer life Designed with unbreakable ABS which enables long-lasting superior performance. with Food Grade BPA-free plastic The food grade BPA plastic is safe to use for chopping the vegetables and fruits. Powerful Chopper Add incredible chopping power to your kitchen with this amazing chopper which can be used to chop anything. Save a lot of time while chopping and speed up your cooking. The Japanese blade mechanism powerful and precise chopping of vegetables swiftly. Color: Multicolour, Material: Plastic Package Contents: 1-Piece Chopper Bowl (1000 ML) with Chopper Blades and Lid Designed for a perfect chopping/cutting/blending job by simply pulling the cord, the number of pulls controls how finely the food is chopped in just a few seconds Perfect for processing onions, garlic, tomatoes, vegetables, salads, herbs, fruits, nuts and more in seconds Made of food-grade material, bpa free, no hazard for your health and safe for everyday use, no electricity required [ad_2]

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Season of Battle

Charging forth On frozen plain Ignoring numb Ignoring pain Wind like blades Of sharpest steel Cutting deep My bones can feel Heart is pumping Blood of war We spill it here On frozen floor My brethren wolf Swift by my side Battle season To Hell we ride! As I was outdoors breaking ice following our […]Season of Battle