stone knives

remember when kaz brekker told inej ghafa he refused to be the one to mark her body after everything she had been through?? because i sure do. the tattoo was mandatory for everyone in the dregs except her bc self-proclaimed monster kaz brekker had the decency to respect her past trauma & he didnt want her to feel like anyone owned her. and the first thing he did after purchasing her indenture was get her proper clothes?? and a knife??? lbr when will your fave ever

as (kind of) requested by @andrewminyarrr - I hope you like it, and congrats again on winning <3

Behind Renee Walker’s characteristic smile is a world of patience and practiced determination. It was what she needed to set the world on fire, and it’s what she needs now to tame that fire inside of herself.

She’s been waiting since she first met Andrew to get him to talk to her about the things that matter. She waited because she didn’t know if it would ever happen. She waited because she wasn’t sure it was worth it. She waited because she might not be the right person for the task.

But there’s a familiar fire behind Andrew’s eyes and she’s waited too long. There comes a time when determination must take what patience cannot earn.

Renee follows Andrew after they spar one day, and he lets her. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence until they both sit down under the angry clouds, when he says, “So, it’s time, then.” His voice holds no clues as to his feelings on the discussion they’ll have. But then, it never did.

“It’s time,” Renee says, and does not smile.

“You know what happened,” Andrew says.

“A bit.”

Andrew recounts the trauma of his childhood years with a clinical detachment, almost as though he were reading a case file. This isn’t a surprise. Renee would recount her worst years in a similar fashion, if it weren’t for her years spent trying to be in touch with her emotions. Still her emotions feel rehearsed, however. She’s not always sure her method is better than Andrew’s.

Andrew’s story doesn’t begin with Drake. That’s not a surprise either.

“We’re not about to be veteran buddies trading stories of our similar but different wars,” Andrew says as though it’s the end of his story.

“No,” Renee agrees. “And I won’t push you to tell me any more than you want to.”

“Yet this conversation isn’t over.”

“No,” Renee says again. “Andrew. It’s over.”

Andrew blinks slowly, and Renee knows that’s the only acknowledgement she’ll get.

In Renee’s story, the war ended but she kept trying to fight. She didn’t want it to be over. She didn’t deserve to be part of the normal world, not after what she’d done, and she didn’t want to be part of it after what had been done to her. Neither side was safe, but on one side she could fight back. If she convinced herself she didn’t care.

So she doesn’t expect Andrew to give his knives up yet.

But she never said she wasn’t selfish. She wants to talk to someone who won’t flinch, but she doesn’t want to drive the knife further in.

“Sometimes I still don’t feel clean. I all but bathed in his blood and I still think I’ll wake up to him beside me. I’m never sure I’ll actually be over it.” Renee says every word, meeting Andrew’s intense eyes, “And I’m not sure I want to be.”

Andrew lights a cigarette.

The truth doesn’t change the world. But - as confession is supposed to do - it makes Renee’s soul feel a little cleaner.

six of crows character aesthetics: what’s in their bags edition
  • kaz brekker: a cloth to polish his bloody cane with, an extra pair of leather gloves, folded maps, a leaking black marker, cologne labeled 'blood of my enemies', hair gel for his impeccable quiff
  • inej ghafa: black and gold eyeliners, the softest oversized black hoodie, crumpled maps at the bottom because she doesn't really need them anyway, a cord of scuffed rope, a stone to sharpen her knives with on the go, bits of parchment paper and a pen to write messages on
  • nina zenik: a piece of silky red ribbon for her hair, an almost empty tin of sugar cookies, dark red lipstick, a tin case of bones, hand sanitizer to eat away the stench of dead things, vials of colored pigments for tailoring
  • matthias helvar: an extra pair of warm fuzzy socks from nina, random trinkets he picked up in the snow and woods, a long heavy gun, an extra strap for his large-as-life bag, a case of polish and things to clean his boots with, cologne smelling of winter and fresh air
  • wylan van eck: unscented chapstick, a vial of liquid sunshine or something, a yellowed dogeared notebook full of numbers and equations and diagrams (and subtle sketches of jesper), an old flute he painted on, an extra warm sweater (bright green), tissue paper
  • jesper fahey: an extra pearl or two for his pistols, a pack of old playing cards, crumpled change, an old pocketbook with photos of vintage guns, a tin of extra minty mints, a notebook of his own puns that he adored and laughs over from time to time + puns he'll save for later

I will build a house 
made of the bones broken
by words I was told 
would never hurt me 

It’ll become a stronghold,
a safe place,
to protect against the words
that you made my enemy 

Because insults from someone 
you think loves you 
aren’t like sticks and stones, 
it’s more like knives and bullet holes

—  Sticks and Stones  || O.L. 

Fear? Fear is easy. Flash a razor in someone’s face, boom, you’ll see fear. And killing is even easier. I mean, come on, it’s humanity’s oldest problem. “Man, I wanna fuck that guy up. How do I fuck that guy up?” Fists, sticks, stones, knives, spears, bows, swords, guns, cannons, bigger guns, bigger cannons, big fucking nuclear bombs, germs, chemicals…every few generations we find a new way to solve that ancient riddle, it’s really nothing new.

But making someone happy? Now that’s playing on hard mode.

You ever make a mobster cry? I have. The guy was a low-level thug. Often a bodyguard, sometimes an arm-breaker, occasionally a gravedigger. Scars all over his face and arms, nose squashed, tough as an iron stereotype. You’ve seen his kind before in a dozen movies and TV shows.

Well Mr. Tough Guy had a young daughter. More specifically, he had a young daughter who’d been in a car accident a few years back and hadn’t walked since. So I fixed her, and it was not a fucking easy task. Do you know how hard it was to get all of the right people in touch with each other? This nurse talks to that administrator who talks to that aid organization who talks to that other nurse who talks to those specialists who…you get the idea. But do you know how much harder it is to pull all of those strings to make all of those conversations happen without anybody figuring out that you’re the puppeteer behind it all? Yeah I didn’t think so.

I was an orderly in the hospital at the time, and I made sure I was on-shift when that girl took her first step in years. Her thug-scum daddy started bawling like a baby, thanking God for this miracle, swearing that he’d go straight…and last I heard, he’s kept that promise. Works security in an office building, pulls an honest paycheck, has gotten a little bit chubby from his easy life, but I won’t judge him for that. It took me two years of planning and string-pulling to break him. Any of the other freaks could have killed and mutilated what, two dozen hookers in that time?

Who cares. I go for quality over quantity.

Like with Sherri. Sherri was a twenty-something forgettable woman with full-blown depression and suicidal tendencies. In fact, she was on her way to tendency herself right off of the tallest bridge in town when she comes across a stray dog with a broken leg, whimpering and dragging itself along the sidewalk while everyone else takes a wide berth around it. She brings the dog to the nearest vet, and runs into an old friend in the waiting room with a sick cat. The old friend mentions how she’s just started therapy and how much better she’s been feeling…and when Sherri gets back to see the vet, he’s the cutest, nicest guy she’s ever met… You know where this is going.

Six months later, with some regular therapy (recommended by a friend, who knew), Sherri’s dark thoughts have started melting away. A year and a half later, she’s getting married to the cute vet, and her rediscovered friend is the maid of honor. Now she’s pregnant with her second, and she can’t remember what it was like to feel so low that she wanted to take her own life.

Who do you think put an advertisement for that vet on her doorstep that morning? Who do you think broke that dog’s leg? Who do you think poisoned her friend’s cat? It wasn’t Jeffrey fucking Dahmer, I’ll tell you that much.

Fear is easy. Death is easy. Happiness is hard, and I’m the best at making it. All of those humanitarians and charity workers that you see are bullshit artists and that’s it. They do nothing but prolong a series of miserable lives that aren’t worth living. I take misery and turn it into something that others might call beautiful.

Ha. I don’t believe in beauty. But I do believe in doing the hardest work that you are capable of.

And baby, I do the hardest work that there is.


Submit your own InstaBlurb

anonymous asked:

Do you have an aesthetic you would say describes you? (I mean, aside from the whole blood and gore and cannibalism thing)

Red wine, fine dining, silks and suits and silver and gold. Smoke and velvet and dulcet honey words of poison and lies.

White tiles, flourescent lights, hallways stripped to nothingness. Blinding burning searing hot white, plexiglass and crystal and trays of sterling knives.

Dark stone, humming, breathing and whispering in glowing runes. Scabs and scars and stains and scratches and ever ever ever bleeding wounds.

… I may have gotten a bit carried away there.

What are we going to do with this girl?
She won’t get up but she can’t go down
without swinging fists and a snarl of
teeth, she’s too volatile to keep,
too sour to eat, spends all her free time
stacking stones and sharpening knives,
picking at everything from threads to
scabs, it doesn’t matters to her who
started it, only that she’ll finish it
even if she’s got to get down in the dirt.

Mother says, a lady should never–
but she runs it down like a bucket list
where she’s determined to check off
every Never Have I Ever until
her skin is stretched so thin no one
would ever consider her soft enough
to fuck with.

And what are we going to do with this girl?
Pushed her too tight to a corner and
watched her grow too big, too beastly,
too hungry to fit back inside any of the
boxes, and oh! how foolish was it to
believe she would fold like a red cloak,
instead of unfurl like a wolf with a
vengeful, growling throat.

—  am kennedy, “ClatterTrap”

Just a reminder that Marie often suckers Jarrod into doing her work for her, in Drangleic. And Marie does inventory.

Jarrod can only count to 10.

So, their bulk items go like this:

30 prism stones - Three 10s Prism Stones

55 Throwing Knives- Five 10s and Five Throwing Knives

Jarrod knows numbers like One Thousand and such, but he has no idea of what a physical quantity of a thousand looks like. Someone would have to tell him that “Ten Tens of Ten” is 1000. 

Shifting sand dunes reveal large Bronze Age settlement

Shifting sands have revealed a significant complex of Bronze Age buildings in Orkney.

Archaeologists made the discovery at Tresness in Sanday while on a walk in poor weather on Monday.

The remains of 14 houses and stone tools, including knives, have been described as “one of the biggest complexes of Bronze Age settlement in the Scottish isles”.

The finds on the beach could be more than 4,000 years old.

Archaeologists believe the houses were buried by sand dunes in the second millennium BC - but have recently been exposed by the actions of weather and the sea. Read more.

Have a Machete Handy for the Apocalypse.

If society collapses, you’ll need a tough chopper for cutting through obstacles, wood, rope, twine, canvas, or just about anything that needs to be split in two that isn’t stone or steel. 

Anonymous asked you:

I apologize if i missed this or did not go back far enough to find it, but do you have anything on wands? I want to implement wands or something similar in my story, and I don’t know how to prevent them from being Harry Potter rip offs.


  • A wand is a thin, long object that is used to channel magic or to direct energy.
  • This definition can be modified to fit your world.
  • Wands can also be used for spiritual purposes rather than magical.

There are three major parts of a wand (what it does, what it looks like, and how it works) that make up its definition within your world.


All wands share the common aspect of channeling magic. How much magic is channeled and what it does for magic is up to you. Here are some examples of what wands can be used for:

  • Channel Magic: In Harry Potter, wands are used because it’s the only way witches and wizards can use their magic in large and controlled quantities (with a few exceptions). You can still use this rule without making it a Harry Potter rip-off. You’ll just have to make other parts of the wand different.
  • Enhance Magic: A wand can be used to enhance the quantity or quality (or both) of magic. This can be helpful for those who aren’t as skilled or as powerful as others.
  • Control Magic: A wand can be used to control magic if wandless magic is unruly or if an individual has trouble with wandless magic. They can be used as a safety or for direction. Wands used for control can either be training wheels or they can be reserved for more powerful and skilled users. Or for something else. It’s up to you and the rules of your universe.
  • Use Other Magic: Perhaps certain types of magic are only accessible through wands or other means.
  • Change Magic: The idea that certain types of materials and symbols bring forth certain skills is nothing new and is not limited to Harry Potter. Certain types of wands can be used to make certain types of magic more powerful or even less powerful, or they can be used to warp how magic works. It’s your choice.

Keep reading


Shipwreck brass.

 Its been awhile since Ive been down on the beach to find any flotsam &jetsam but did recycle these old marine brass boat fixings into some rustic amulets .

Once the green verdigris had been safely removed  I worked the edges with diamond files and added a bit of filework , all were then etched , blackened and then stone washed . 

 Custom knives , sheaths and gear from