🪼
Discoholic 🪩
titsay
Sade Olutola
No title available
cherry valley forever
pixel skylines
tannertan36
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
No title available
Jules of Nature
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
dirt enthusiast
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
No title available
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
@vengefulsavior
Long ago, God rained fire onto the city of fools. Destruction was a small price to pay for their depravity. God cleansed what men had sullied, just as I will now. This world will be a blank slate.
this is an independent rp blog for Millions Knives of Trigun Stampede.
OCs and crossovers welcome, minors and personals don't interact. written by zips. all banners made by the lovely @voidtouched-blue
you can also find me here: Vash the Stampede. Joshua Rosfield.
Head empty
I love characters that have never been loved before experiencing it for the first time. They're taken aback by softness. They're confused by warm words and being cared for. They're almost scared by the loving way they're looked at. Fleeting tender touches send them reeling. Their heart almost feel like it's going to burst. What does it mean? All they know is they don't feel as though they deserve that, even if they reciprocate. It's been proven time again that they're unlovable and yet...
Being treated so gently feels so good and they aren't sure they want it to stop.
if I was hannibal and someone accused me I would be like “really? is it because of my name? I was under the impression that we were all adults here, but it seems i was mistaken.” and they would be so embarrassed they would have no choice but let me go
:) (threateningly)
binary stars
@voidtouched-blue continued from here~
If Nai had known this would happen he never would have brought Cyra here. It was supposed to be a simple sight-seeing tour, so to say, all he had wanted was to show her the new facility he had prepared for them to store in even more Plants. His plan was to save all of them, none would be left behind, but to achieve that they would need space, much more space and this place should have been perfect. It was an abandoned factory or at least it was supposed to be abandoned, but the moment Cyra’s ears rotated towards an unknown source of noise Nai knew something was wrong.
The Independent raised a sharp eyebrow at his companion but he already knew the answer to his question before he asked it. Cyra preferred for them to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, and by now Nai had adjusted to follow that preference as long as neither of them were in danger. They had intended to sneak out of the back again before they could be found, but just as they were about to reach the doors they encountered the pack of vagabonds, all of them armed. And to keep his promise to Cyra the Plants decided to run instead of fight, at least until they were backed into a corner. Twenty guns were pointing at them and it was obvious that the people wielding those guns were more than trigger-happy, shouting questions and demands at them, without realizing who they were dealing with.
“Who the hell are you? This is our place!”
“We were here first! What do you want?”
“Get on your knees and you won’t get hurt! Maybe.”
The last word had been spoken with a dirty chuckle and Nai understood it as an obvious threat. These humans. Why were they threatening Cyra and himself, there was no reason for that hostile behavior. This situation was just another confirmation for the hatred and distrust Nai felt towards humans.
“Just shoot them. They look like trouble.”
Those words were voiced by a man that stood at the front, holding a revolver in each hand, pointing one of them at Cyra and one at Nai while grinning lazily. And it made Nai snap. For a moment the gaze of his eyes flickered to Cyra, who stood by his side, claws ready, but what good would they do against weapons that could kill from a distance? No. He would protect her. He had made a vow to keep her safe and he intended to keep it.
Reaching out his hand he gently but firmly guided Cyra to stand behind him, then without hesitation he summoned forward the tendrils of blades from his back and the humans responded with immediately shooting at them. Nai’s heart was beating heavily inside his chest, it was beating so fast it hurt and it brought back the memories of his childhood, of the moment he and his brother had found out what the humans had done to the first Independent in their care. He was scared. He was scared these people could hurt the one person by his side he cared about and that made him reckless.
Nai used his tendrils to deflect the bullets, he blocked them before they could reach Cyra and he was also lashing out at these people shooting at them, cutting off heads and arms but it also left himself wide open. The first bullet hit his stomach, but Nai did not falter. Instead he stepped forward, growling, the way his tendrils were lashing out becoming more frantic. He cut off another head. The cramped hallway was now covered in blood, most of the men were screaming as they realized this had become a fight for their life, but Nai would not stop until each and every one of them was dead.
Another bullet hit his thigh, another his shoulder and he reached out his open palm to stop a bullet from hitting Cyra. He could smell the blood, both the human blood and his own, and he stepped forward again as more and more bullets hit his body. No. He had to protect Cyra, he had to.
“Step aside. I will finish this.”
Again it was the leader talking and again he had that provoking grin on his face, but this time, with Nai already weakened, he was too slow to deflect the bullet that hit him right in the chest. Pain. There was so much pain, something he had not felt for a very long time, and as he collapsed he realized there were only three men left, if only..
Nai gasped as the man pressed his boot onto the wound in his stomach, and he tried to keep fighting, but his tendrils were writhing on the ground like pathetic worms and his vision started to spin. The man kept his foot on Nai to hold him down while he lifted his gun to point it almost casually at Cyra.
“So, what about you? Are you going to fight or give up? And what kind of monsters are you? Maybe we can make some money out of you.”
Plays our theme song but alone this time
Hey I really liked this scene *screams*
Whoever he was, he was gentle and kind.
Cyra looked up at the hand offered to her with a learned hesitation. She couldn't remember much of what had happened to her prior to waking up on the bed. Memories only of what she had been before she fell into the slumber were all she had to ground herself in reality. She didn't recognize him from any of those flashes of history that raced through her vision.
Take it. Take his hand.
The instinct within her gave the girl no warnings of the man before her. Though his face had been mostly obscured by the shadow of his hood, she felt no hostility in his gaze. Tilting her head slightly to the side, curious of her present company, she pulled the blanket around her tighter.
The hybrid took another moment to glance around, as if searching for some scientist waiting in the wings with a clipboard or another test. She squinted, feeling a pounding in her head as she tried to recall exactly how she wondered at that possible threat. What really happened to her? Why couldn't she remember all of it?
She took a shuddering breath, still quiet as she rubbed the socket of her eye with the heel of her free hand. Whispering groans met the air as she looked back up at the offered support of the stranger before her. It had taken her a minute to fully work through her awakening thoughts enough to make a cognizant reply with the reach of her own hand.
His grip was gentle, and it strayed no further from the reach of her fingers. It hadn't been followed with a rough grab of her wrist, or a tug of familiar chains; more things she couldn't quite remember how she felt that ghosted past. Still she could not stop the flinch of his touch as he helped raise her to stand. Her legs wobbled, still feeling the nerves working off the grog of the long sleep. His willingness to wait for her to adjust to the waking world had been a surprise. It wasn't something she could physically admit at the moment, but perhaps later once her voice had returned. She wasn't sure she could even express her thanks.
You should still try, she thought.
He guided her to the table, offering her garments to cover herself better than the blanket she wrapped up in. As he stepped to the side, Cyra didn't hesitate to drop the cloth that shrouded her in favor of getting dressed. It didn't matter where they came from, she was just glad to have something to wear. Though they were quite large, she made do with what little modifications she could make as she settled into this new comfort. She had no issues with how exposed her body had been, it didn't feel shameful. Though, she supposed it could have been due to all the time spent being experimented on.
Why did she remember that?
“My name is Millions Knives and this is my sanctuary. I would like for you to stay here. I will not let another human lay a hand on you.”
His tone had indicated a note of care. There was anger on his voice, and in the way he clenched his fists. Pulling her hair up from the collar of the shirt he had given her, she rested a hand on the surface of the table to keep steady. Her eyes scanned him, still struggling to get a good glimpse of his face under the hood. She sniffed the air, feeling her senses slowly returning. She smelled nothing beyond the cleanliness of the room, perhaps the scent of iron but it was faint enough that she couldn't quite call it blood. Her ears rotated around, picking up the gentle sound of his breath and hers. Nothing about his heartbeat indicated danger or lies.
She was safe.
"Mhio-...", her voice came out as a half-whispered squeak. Cyra cleared her throat, trying once more to speak his name. "Mhillion-z...Mmm." She shook her head, unhappy with the result.
One more time.
"Millions...Knives?"
There you go.
"Is...are they-," she swallowed, the clarity of her voice evening out with every word spoken. "-did they do this to me? The humans? Is...is that why I look like this?"
Her question was quiet. The muscles under her skin had become rigid at the thought.
"Are you not human as well?" Her words came out trembling. Even if he turned out to be one of them, he had been so gentle with her already. Her tail had flicked on instinct, her body becoming more like a coiled spring in anticipation of his answer. Fear had unknowingly crept up into her spine, sending those sharpened points of her nails into clenched palms with a wince.
She had already forgotten the weapons that had been made of her gentle hands.
The feeling of shame still rested in his chest for a moment as he stepped to the side to give the other Independent space to exchange the blanket she had used to cover herself with for a proper set of clothes. If one could even call it that. Basically it was a set that consisted of a white coat, a white t-shirt and a white pair of trousers. A typical scientist’s uniform. Knives pursed his lips. He was trying to give the other as much privacy as he could, but he couldn’t stop himself from risking little glances at her.
Why was she so different? She walked on two legs like humans did and she obviously knew their speech too, but why was her skin covered in a soft layer of fur instead of being smooth like his own skin? Why did she have triangle shaped ears which he only recognized from feline mammals? Why did she have claws? Why did she have a tail?
He noticed how said tail flicked nervously as if she suddenly became aware of the danger she had been in before, and maybe her instincts were telling her that he was the danger. And in a sense, he was. Knives was a force to be reckoned with, but not for her. He was the force that would keep her from further harm.
“So you were not born like this?”
With the way she had asked her questions, as if she could not understand her own appearance either, and the way he could see the muscles move beneath her skin, an obvious fight or flight reaction, his question was actually unnecessary. Knives would not be able to answer her why she looked like this, what exactly the humans had done to her to change her appearance so significantly, but he knew: yes, the humans had done this to her.
For a brief moment he was thinking about a way to tell her that or a way to ask her what she remembered about her past, but then he heard her gentle voice ask:
“Are you not human as well?”
Knives knew her question meant no harm and was most likely asked out of fear, to make sure she was in safe hands around him, that he did not belong to those that had harmed her in the past, and still.. he had been upset about the humans all day and even the thought of comparing himself to them rekindled his anger once more. He growled quietly, his clenched fists trembling as he turned away from her, his gaze wandering around the room, looking for something to destroy. But no, these were his personal quarters, plus, there was no need in scaring his guest by randomly lashing out at things. His anger was not directed at her.
The Independent took a deep breath, then turned around to face the other Plant once more, gazing at her from beneath his hood as he sprouted two tendrils of blades from his back. Both of them encircled the woman in front of him, like snakes, without ever meaning to harm her.
“No. I am not human.”
He could hear Rem’s voice in his head, urging him to never show his powers, that it was dangerous to reveal that he was indeed a Plant and not human. Yes, it had been dangerous when he was younger, when he was at the mercy of the people that slaughtered his sister. But he was not helpless anymore.
“I am a Plant. Just like you.”
Knives’ voice had become calm again, his rage now beating evenly in his chest, it was still there but it was contained, to be let out the next time he had to leave his base to retrieve another Plant. He took another step towards the other Plant, his hand reaching out slowly, showing her that he meant no harm, but also slow enough for her to dodge if she wanted, but then he touched his hand to the back of her own hand, and at the moment of contact the luminescent lines on their skins came to life.
“See? I am nothing like them. And you aren’t either. So, tell me. Who are you?”
@voidtouched-blue asked: 63﹕ sender is found by receiver sleeping in receiver’s bed
How many times had he walked those seemingly endless corridors, the walls white and sterile, reminding him that this was not the paradise he had envisioned for his Plants. No, this was only temporary. The crashed spaceship, more or less intact, now serving as his stronghold as he collected and saved Plants from greedy humans, gathering his brethren here until he would be able to set them all free and turn them into Independents. His goal was not even close to finished, as he needed his younger brother to reach it whether he liked it or not, but the first steps were taken, as long as he kept taking the remaining Plants from the humans who did not know what to do with them except for abusing and killing them.
Just now Knives returned from another mission he had taken on himself after being holed up with Conrad and Elendira for too long. He had handed over the Plant, which had not been red for a change, to be stored away and now he was making his way back to his room, he was not yet ready to talk to Conrad about the slow process of their project again.
Of course the humans had not handed over their Plant without a fight, they were always so stubbornly clinging to the divine being that provided them with resources and kept them alive, but not even their guns had a chance against the God that was Millions Knives. How did they even dare to try and harm him. Now he was leaving bloody footprints on the otherwise clean floors and he did not care, he did not mind spilling the blood of the sinners, the only pain was to wash the sticky substance off his feet and calves, but he would do that later.
Opening the door to his room he was not as alone as he expected to be and he paused. His pale gaze rested on the figure that had claimed his bed and he tilted his head to the side. This was a first.
“Cyra?”
No reaction. So the Independent really was asleep. How peculiar. Why had she chosen his bed out of all the places she could rest? Of course she had her own bedroom, there was plenty of unoccupied space after all, so to find her here was even more confusing to him. Knives himself barely used his bed, he didn’t really need to eat or sleep, therefore he mostly used the time he had trying to be productive, but he was not incapable of sleeping and on rare occasions he slept, trying to dream of a brighter future.
Well, so be it, this was still his room after all. Knives took off his cloak, which was still covered in blood, and let it carelessly drop to the floor, then he slipped into bed next to the other Independent, carefully resting his head on the pillow next to her. He did not dare to touch or wake her up, but the soothing sound of her calm breathing was enough to even make Knives feel how exhausted he really was.
Light...
She could see light from behind closed lids. A tiny spark in an endless void that had trapped her in this dreamless sleep. The flashes of memory were vague, nothing more than partial images or sounds that set her eyes beneath that darkness shifting under the skin. She shivered, feeling the heat of those violent memories as they drifted across her body in this gentle slumber.
For years, she had been floating in that tank. A cruel experiment by a cruel man had left her body shattered, tattered, and broken beyond what they could themselves repair. Leaving her nothing but a sleeping husk of a being in that tank to lie in wait until her mind had found itself rousing from the dreamless black. Her body had long since healed, but the mind bore scars unseen from the evil of man.
Her fingers twitched.
The memory of fabric under her touch granted her another shifting flick of her hands atop the cloth. A gentle groan escaped her lips as she felt warmth fill her body once more.
Am I...dead?
The thought had her taking a moment to truly feel the flood of information on her skin. She could not feel the swirling water of the tank, or the gentle pressure that sent it wafting around her in waves. She had been unrestricted by the various tubing that had been attached to her person to monitor her vital signs. And her body felt so very heavy. She coughed, feeling the dryness of air in her lungs. And that was what prompted her to open those crystal eyes to see the world anew.
This was not the world she remembered.
These rooms had a cleanliness to them that reminded her of a doctor. The pristine white of the sheet below her...hands?
Cyra gasped at the sharp tips that now took the place of what had once been normal fingernails. A frantic breath caught in her chest at the realization of her changed figure. The stripes. The fur. The difference of her previously normal legs now more like an animal than human. She knew she wasn't supposed to look like this.
The muscles of her ears had set them to rotate when they picked up a gentle sound she could not describe.
"H-hello...?" The words had only come out as a whisper compared to the tune she had hoped would play from her throat. Atrophied from years of zero use, it would come in time. She shivered, pulling the blanket close around her as she crawled to the edge of the bed. Her curiosity compelling her to find the source of that calming sound.
The first steps had been rough, wobbly, and weak. She had to remember how to exist outside of the float in the tank. With a breathy grunt, her legs buckled and she fell to her knees. Perhaps a bit too quick to rise, she tried again. With every step, her body began to awaken and provide her with that stability she remembered from before.
She tried calling out again in the hallway, but her voice had been no more than a whispering squeak. She coughed, trying to clear whatever might have been keeping her from her attempts to communicate. So she tried again, and that squeak came out more as a whistle.
Walking and whistling aside, Cyra followed the echoing melody through the halls. She pressed her hand into the cracked door, the light from the gilded room nearly blinded her as she peered in. Instinctively, she held her arm over her face to shield her from the light. Even in this temporary blindness, she could hear the music loud and clear. As curiosity had won out over the need for caution, and her body still being used to the advent of movement, that gentle push of her hand on the door had turned into a scrape as she fell forward.
The door groaned under the weight of use, sending a prickling fear down her spine as her hands hit the floor with a gentle slap. With the blanket pulled around her in a mess of folds, she glanced up at the curious figure in this curious room. The quiet shuddered gasp that came from her seemed to echo in the large space.
Humans. These insolent creatures. How dare they go behind his back like that after he had tried giving their sorry existence a purpose. He was a God. How could they even think they would be capable of deceiving him. Knives breathed heavily, trying to suppress his growing anger which could easily lead to him destroying the whole facility if he wasn’t careful. No, those humans were not worth it. He had slaughtered them like the animals they are and if any of the other scientists and helpers ever went behind his back he would not grant them a comfortable quick death. If only humans were capable of producing anything, the way Plants were, then he would at least have a use for them, give them a taste of their own medicine, but no. All they were good for was to create suffering and it was Knives’ mission to put an end to that.
Knives sighed, slender fingers still dancing over the piano keys, producing one melody after another, one being more sorrowful than the next. Oh, how he hated humans. How his hatred for them was festering inside himself, turning him crueler with each passing day, leaving nothing behind of the sweet and naïve boy he once was.
When the door to his sanctuary opened with a groan Knives was ready to scream at whoever disturbed him during his musical ritual, but when he watches the other Independent crumble to the ground with the blanket wrapped around her he paused. So she was awake then. And she could walk. Luckily she was not as injured as he dreaded her to be, but she was obviously very weakened from the time they had kept her in the tank, however long that had to be. Swallowing down another heated wave of anger Knives rose gracefully to his feet, making his way to where the other Plant was still on the ground, looking up at him with big eyes.
Knives stopped before her, the gaze of his cold eyes calmly on her as he observed her, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with her. And a part of him really wasn’t. He had not seen an Independent Plant since he had parted ways with his younger brother, and as far as he knew there were no other Independents. Living ones at least. But here she was. His face was mostly hidden away by his cloak, but he still invitingly reached out his hand to her.
He was silent as he waited for her to take his hand and when she eventually did he carefully pulled her up and onto her feet. Knives gave her a moment to get used to carrying her weight on her own legs again, then he guided her across the room and towards a little table that stood in the corner. He was almost ashamed of what he was about to present to her.
“This is a set of human clothes, the ones my scientists usually wear while they are working in the laboratories. I have nothing else on hand, but I would prefer for you to cover yourself from the greedy gazes of humans.”
Knives did not like how he had to put her into the same outfit of the people that had abused her, but as he did not wear human clothes himself there was nothing else he could offer her. He would have to remind himself to acquire something more suitable for her the next time he left the sanctuary to collect a Plant, but this would have to suffice for now. Finally letting go of her hand he stepped aside to give her more room to put on said clothes.
“My name is Millions Knives and this is my sanctuary. I would like for you to stay here. I will not let another human lay a hand on you.”
more or less plotted starter for @voidtouched-blue
Out of all the misfits and outcasts Millions Knives had gathered around himself it had to be Zazie the Beast to tell him about this apparently secret branch of the Eye of Michael. The Independent Plant didn’t care much about Conrad’s experiments. Let the doctor cut open human filth to try and create a new species of humans, they would never be of equal divinity as Plants. But that didn’t stop them from trying. Usually Knives wouldn’t pay attention to the blood and the screaming and the failures cast aside or being sent out on missions to die, but what Zazie had been reporting to him was deeply unsettling, because it meant Conrad was either betraying him or he didn’t have his staff under control, and he wasn’t sure which of the options were worse. He wasn’t particularly fond of Conrad, he still remembered the sins the doctor had committed, he would ensure the man would never forget, but the truth was he needed the doctor’s help to fulfill his own dream of creating more independent Plants to finally exterminate humanity for good. Knives wouldn’t interfere in the experiments, but he would not tolerate anyone going behind his back and doing something that goes against the holy words of the Eye of Michael.
Naked feet carried him through the cold corridors of the laboratory, the countless Plants he had collected from the humans lining up the walls. He rarely came here, he stench of humans just too unpleasant, so as he walked past one or two of Conrad’s assistants they exchanged worried looks but otherwise stepped out of his way, not wanting to attract the Independent’s wrath. Knives didn’t speak to them, didn’t even bother glancing at them, he was wearing his cloak to cover himself from the unworthy eyes of humans, but he could feel that something was terribly wrong with every step he took.
Finally he reached the hallway Zazie had mentioned and he walked down the stairs only to discover some kind of basement, the only difference was that the humans had apparently modified it to use it as another laboratory. A handful of whitecoats were gathered around a table, discussing their latest experiments and once they noticed them they froze with terror in their eyes, but something else quickly gained Knives’ attention. The room was mostly empty apart from the table and a couple machines but the most prominent thing was the Plant tank in the center of the room. Therefore the people had already committed sins that were punishable by death: they went behind his back and stole one of his Plants, plus, they obviously experimented on his kind. But there was something else. This was no regular Plant, it seemed to be an Independent! But as Knives stepped closer to the glass his cold gaze turned into a frown. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing.
He was definitely looking at an independent Plant, but it didn’t look anything like him or his brother. Sure, the body was mostly shaped like a human, but there was something else about it. It had triangle shaped ears sitting on top of its head, a tail and the skin was covered in short fur. This Plant had a lot more characteristics of the animals Knives had seen in videos and books back when Rem had been raising him and his brother. He thought he remembered the name of the animal to be…. cat?
“What have you done to her..”
Knives’ voice was a low growl as sharp tendrils of blades were sprouting from his back and the scientists didn’t have the chance to explain themselves as they were cut in half. There was blood everywhere, on the floor, the walls, the glass of the tank, but these humans had it coming. The Eye of Michael had been created to save Plants from the greedy and destructive hands of humans, yet they had dared to go against his very word, it was only natural they would have to pay with their life. With uncaring eyes Knives looked at the severed head by his feet, then he stepped over it to return his attention to the tank. Tendrils lashed out once more to cut off the lid of it, and with the blunt side of his tendrils he lifted the Plant out of its tank and into his arms and holding her to his chest he made his way back. He would send Conrad later to clean up this mess by himself, but for now the most important part was to get this Plant to safety. Another Independent. Knives had always thought he and his brother were the only ones. Where did this one come from?
How strange this all was, but once Knives reached his personal quarters he went to lay down the girl on the bed. He did not use the bed often so she would wake up atop fresh sheets and there was nothing else he could do for now, so he stepped out of the room and returned to his sanctuary, sitting down at the piano. Knives would feel once she woke up, though it probably was better to have her seek him out on her own, it was probably a lot to wake up from stasis to a rather normal environment. Knives started playing the piano, the sound would show her where he waited for her should she decide to come looking for him.
🐝 * ― 𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺. ( some triggering content ahead. add " + " to reverse the action. )
[ wipe ] sender wipes away receiver's tears [ hurt ] sender hurts receiver with words [ lonely ] sender finds receiver alone in a dark room [ wounded ] sender patches up receiver's wounds [ crying ] sender finds receiver crying [ help ] sender runs to receiver when they scream for help [ nightmare ] sender wakes receiver up from a nightmare [ dying breath ] sender talks to receiver before dying [ hold on ] sender pulls receiver into their arms [ anger ] sender takes their anger out on receiver [ argue ] sender gets into a heated argument with receiver [ scared ] sender scares receiver [ sick ] sender cares for receiver while they are sick [ palm ] sender places a hand on receiver to stop them from doing something [ fight ] sender gets into a physical fight with receiver [ comfort ] sender tries to comfort receiver [ blood ] sender notices that receiver is bleeding [ collapse ] sender collapses into receiver's arms [ pressure ] sender puts pressure on receiver's wound [ slap ] sender slaps receiver in the face [ panic ] sender helps receiver through a panic attack [ lie ] sender catches receiver in a lie [ sobs ] sender sobs uncontrollably while receiver holds them [ hiding ] sender finds out that receiver has hidden an injury from them [ death ] sender just died, receiver finds out [ chin up ] sender lifts receiver's chin to stop them from hiding their tears [ fears ] sender talks to receiver about their fears [ scream ] sender screams at receiver [ coping ] sender teaches receiver some coping mechanisms [ loss ] sender is there for receiver after they've lost someone important to them [ needs ] sender asks receiver what they need [ bullet ] sender takes a bullet for receiver [ bruises ] sender finds bruises of unknown origin on receiver [ rainfall ] sender finds receiver out alone in the rain [ hospital ] sender wakes up in a hospital bed and finds receiver sitting by their bedside [ intrude ] sender walks in on receiver treating their wounds [ calming ] sender tries to calm down receiver [ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got [ rescue ] sender carries receiver to safety [ clean ] sender cleans blood off of receiver's body
"Nai," huh? I haven't heard that name in a long time. I now represent my myriad of brethren spread across the planet. I shall cut down humanity in their stead. I am Millions Knives.
