#swole and king

[hedonistbyheart]

Hello darling <3

#alan wake 2 #alan wake 2 spoilers #tom zane #casper darling #i'm cheering so loudly for this toxic couple to just go wild lol #the whole fandom playing control: hey dr darling is pretty buff huh #tom 'slutty meta king' zane: you're swole huh #remedy please you're meeting all my standards

[magistralucis]

A princeling fair to see, the pearl of minstrelsy [Oltyx/Yenekh snippet]

(I started scribbling this after seeing @eleooooooo's take on necrontyr Yenekh a few days ago, holy hell that boy is fine. And such a fine boy deserved another. IDK if I'm going to make this a full thing, but it's been a long time without any content from my end... and we could all do with something sweet, always 👍)

------

On the day Kynazh Oltyx's statue was unveiled on Sedh Yenekh recognized the sweetbitter inkling of his fate.

News seldom came so fast in fringeworlds such as theirs. The young prince had recently returned from war, and the dynast Unnas in his pride had commissioned for him this statue, a copy of which was to be instilled in every world held by Ithakas. As Yenekh made his way to the central square, it seemed that over half the planet had joined him to bear witness. Patriot champion, the whole city whispered, a fine lad and a strong warrior, a true leader to his men. And since the lot of everybody on Sedh was tied to the mercy of their high command, they were very interested to know what this one promised, and were all in all pleasantly surprised.

Yenekh had never seen anything like it. Royalty for him had always been stoic. Aloof and distant, most of the time, crushingly immediate when they deigned to gaze upon Sedh. That was how Unnas was depicted, indeed all the kings of Ithakas before him, towering over the people in their bold-faced majesty. That was how Kynazh Djoseras was depicted, the elder prince who'd drawn similar crowds some years before, his slim face uncannily stern as he stared straight ahead of him. (Unlike his father he was only ever shown alone, and only as a side profile, though his judging gaze was felt by all who saw him.)

But there was no precedent for Oltyx's statue, not among royalty, nemesors or overlords. His was a full-body sculpture, unlike his father and his brother carved in friezes. It was of realistic size too; the statue was set on a high plinth, the bodily proportions slightly magnified to account for perspective, but otherwise one could almost believe it was the real kynazh standing up there. Already that was too down to earth to be the norm, but what really shocked the denizens of Sedh was the expression - for yes, Kynazh Oltyx had an expression, a genuine marker of personality. The fair prince stood with glaive in one hand, the other held palm-up as if in hail, and he was smiling.

It was not a vivid smile, nor a triumphant smile. They would have understood that, although privately, they might've thought it uncouth to show that much emotion when a stoic stare would have done just as well. No, his was a demure smile, so subtle that it seemed a sculptor's secret grace: the prince's eyes were slightly downcast, hooded as if he were sharing sweet mysteries, and the curve of his mouth rose so delicately one might think it a trick of the light. His raised arm seemed almost inviting, as if to swear oaths to a lover, or to clasp his admirers in an embrace.

It was a sight to take Yenekh's breath away. Indeed, it was the closest thing to benevolence any of them had ever seen from the heart of Antikef. It was so unusual, so unlike royalty, that as Yenekh stood there starstruck his elders began debating whether this was a serious depiction of the prince or not.

Though, well, surely it was. Like Yenekh and the other warriors of his ilk Kynazh Oltyx had come of age during wartime. This was the first time his image had been presented all over the Ithakan kemmeht, the royal court had to get it right. The dominant consensus was that the sculpture would not have been approved, neither by his older brother nor his father, if it hadn't reflected something about the prince's reality - a point which Yenekh's father considered paramount, and took great care to impress upon his son.

"After all, you are soon to present yourself at the royal court," he said, resting a warm hand on Yenekh's shoulder. "The war is over - the body politic, within and out of Antikef, must resume its role - you are the next branch of Sedh's nobility, and among our finest, and it won't be long before the future of this world rests on your shoulders. Go, see if you might seek the younger prince's favour. I daresay we'd flourish somewhat if he were to look kindly upon Sedh, even if it were he alone who did so."

Back then nothing was more important to Yenekh than the will of his father. "I will." He said, and prepared to present his home in the best light, though he didn't seriously think anything would come of it at the time. Yenekh's father had once heard the same words from his father. His father's father, too, and that father's brother all the way up the House of Aetis, and little had changed for their pains.

It was not for lack of faith in Sedh. Yenekh loved Sedh, thought the world of it even, but they were just too far away from the crownworld to merit royal attention. That was not for lack of faith in Antikef, either, the distance was not negotiable. From the royal court's perspective Sedh was not even in the provinces, they were beyond the provinces, where the kemmeht was stretched so thin that one might peer through it like a veil. The lords of Sedh were not weak - they'd defended the border for uncountable generations, they had strength, they had pride - but there were a million things they could beg of royalty, while royalty required nothing from Sedh other than its continued obedience. If its lords did not plead for grace they wouldn't see any at all.

How could Yenekh alone possibly change this state of affairs?

Yes, he supposed the young prince was wondrous fair. (Yenekh began to dream of him often from the day he laid eyes on the statue.) Perhaps he might even be kind. That wasn't a good reason to tie an entire world's hopes on one person, not that it'd stopped them doing it to Yenekh. Such is the kinship of youth, the warrior thought wryly, and he kept all this in mind until his first official engagement came around.

He was among innumerable youths from the kemmeht. All were sturdy and bright-eyed. All had favours to seek. Much to Yenekh's surprise, those were the only correct predictions he'd made about his lot. It was his first time encountering the royal court, but it wasn't at Antikef; no, it was with the Nihilakh, at Gheden's famous Lantern Festival to hail the new year. He did not blend in as thoroughly as he'd expected, though it wasn't in a bad way; for the first time in his life Yenekh was made to understand he was beautiful, though no one at Sedh had ever remarked on it. (Compared to the lords of the inner worlds he'd thought he was so plain, but his white-and-blue robes accentuated his form gracefully, his silver belt and collar shining bright.) And although he could never have hoped for a prince to look directly upon him, that was exactly what Kynazh Oltyx did on the day they met, the central square teeming with the lords of a hundred dynasties.

Yenekh knew the prince at once, at the faintest snatch of his rich warm voice. He moved carefully past the youths of Ithakas - the kynazh was turning his head, just as Yenekh reached the front of the group - as Oltyx looked upon the darkest and faintest star of his high kingdom, his brown eyes widened, and he smiled that same gentle smile Yenekh had admired upon the plinth.

"Gosh." He said. "You're pretty."

In that instant Yenekh was consumed by love's first flame, and he yielded to it as he’d never yielded before.

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #the twice dead king #oltyx #yenekh #necrons #necron #snippet #fanfiction #it made sense that oltyx would be damnatio memoriae'd after his exile #but man was it sad to read there hadn't been all that many depictions of him at antikef to begin with anyway 😭 #i wanted to imagine there had been at least one beautiful thing of him scattered around the ithakan kemmeht #so that all would bear witness to his bold and compassionate self #and i want to believe yenekh had a huge fucking crush on him even from their necrontyr days... i mean dude WAS a whole god damn prince!!! #he was swole as fuck and a war hero how could they not have revered him........ ghghhghg 😳🥴🙃

[testoster0ne]

eric

#strong #masculine #jacked #male #beast #athletic #swole #testosterone #fitness #king #protein #snack #black and white #muscle #flex #video

[blondboytoys]

#blond muscle #blond muscleboy #blond jock #blond trophy #swole Matty #pec bounce king #pec bounce #sunglasses

[yupiistar]

Since people liked her, here's some old doodles of Celí and her other KOF teammates. And her shark (?) wrestling mom

#Her shark wrestle mom is still not finalized so she might change her wrestling gimmick but she'll stay swole and lorge #KOF OCs #King of fighters OCs #Celine (OC) #My art #oc tag #feat. Shun

[idolsgf]

everyone pls look at this absolute unit

#personal #tbd #wrestling #the king has returned #excursion made him swole

[ohfugecannada]

I don’t read gotg comics but I swear if Grootf*ll kills Groot off permanently/replace him with baby Groot again like they did in the MCU….

#again I have nothing against swole king groot ii #or even his funny haha marketable baby phase #but seeing comics groot get killed off and replaced a second time after that happens with MCU groot #that would break me #also yeah I know it’s comics so they’ll resurrect him and the rest of the guardians anyway but still #I think the fact it was confirmed he perma died in the MCU made me quit gotg for the longest time till I got over my grief and saw vol3 #I can’t lose him again #not again #i’m not strong enough #Grootfall tw

[pocketlad]

Unhinged rambling

#im thinking about little mermaid mario au #but you know mario is in ariel's place and peach is in eric's place of course ;^) #bowser has to be ursula #i know king trident is ariel's dad but i cant really think of anyone to be mario's dad except miyamoto and im trying to be somewhat serious #jfdgjgdfhjgdhjdgf #i dont know how to feel about a super swole mermaid miyamoto yelling at mario LMAO #ANYWAY #I dont know i'll leave that on hold for now #(poor unfortunate souls) bowser: now sing! #mario: when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie thats amoreee

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: 2 Fisted Tales

Stephen King: hey patricia is it true you used to write comics? Patricia Highsmith: [long cigarette drag] Highsmith: who told you that

King: well, i just heard- Highsmith: was it stan lee? Highsmith: musta been stan lee Highsmith: never met a cat who talked so much Highsmith: might as well be a dame with all the yap yap yappin

Dean Koontz: wowwwww did you really meet stan lee, patricia? Highsmith: yeah Koontz: wowwww! what was that like? [flashback] Stan Lee: hey there comics fans its me, stan lee Lee: how bout a date? Highsmith: no dice

Poe: steve King: i just thought she'd like to tell us about her Poe: steve Poe: just no Poe: no King: ok fine Barker: i'm gonna hear the comic story Poe: CLIVE NO

King: ah but patricia i think we'd all like to hear a comics story Patricia Highsmith: i ain't gonna tell no comic story King: well maybe I can't convince you King: but I bet I know someone who can! Alan Moore: [appearing in a flash] who dares summon the arch magus? King: the arch magus! Poe: the arch magus! Koontz: the arch magus!

Moore: speak! what boon ask ye of the arch magus? King: hey alan you've worked in comics King: how about you tell patricia that comics aren't stupid Moore: Moore: i cannot tell her that

Moore: comics are the bane of my existence! a curse upon them! Highsmith: now this guy, this guy i like Highsmith: he's got a real noodle in his noggin Moore: the arch magus would do well to hear your counsel, mortal Highsmith: sure, we could jaw a bit

Highsmith: how you feel about snails, archmagus? Moore: be these your familiars? Highsmith: "familiars" Highsmith: listen to this cat

Highsmith: ok fine you mooks wanna hear about my comics Highsmith: i'll tell ya Highsmith: but only cuz i'm here among bros Highsmith: long as its just dudes Highsmith: cuz these stories Highsmith: they get a little rough Highsmith: and you know how dames are

Highsmith: so this story's just for us dudes Highsmith: so franz Franz Kafka: what? Highsmith: you gotta go Kafka: huh? what? Kafka: why? Highsmith: you just gotta go Kafka: i don't understand Barker: oh my god franz get a clue Poe: clive

Highsmith: submitted for the approval of the midnight pals Highsmith: i call this the tale of the crime puncher Highsmith: it's about this real swole square headed guy who punches criminals Highsmith: pow! punch! bam! Highsmith: that's what comics are all about

Highsmith: so there're these 2 palookas who fight crime Highsmith: named steve and ploopie Barker: i'm sorry what Highsmith: steve and ploopie Barker: steve and WHAT Highsmith: what, you got cabbage in your ears? ploopie Barker: Barker: i'm sorry WHAT

Highsmith: anyway steve and ploopie gotta do some punching Barker: there's a lot of punching in these stories Highsmith: that's what kids want in comics Barker: huh sure yeah Barker: Barker: i'm sorry steve and WHAT Poe: let it go, clive

Highsmith: so this world war i playing ace crashes into a polish swamp Highsmith: when he dies, it creates a big mud monster Highsmith: who goes to america to harass some kid for his model air plane Barker: i'm starting to see why you didn't want to tell these stories Poe: CLIVE

Highsmith: i didn't just do action comics tho Highsmith: i wrote educational ones too Highsmith: like the two-fisted tales of oliver cromwell Highsmith: or don't mess with galileo Highsmith: or catherine the great takes out the trash

King: why didn't you stick with comics, patricia? Patricia Highsmith: eh you know how the comics biz is King: but I've heard its actually a growth industry Highsmith: is that so King: yeah they tell me that there's lots of opportunities in comics for girls Highsmith: ugh pass

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #dean koontz #patricia highsmith #alan moore #franz kafka #stan lee

[devonpink]

I'm a trans woman and I think stories about this are hot as fuck. Make me a dumb straight boy, fuck yeah

I just turned 21, I'm white, honestly I'm super skinny (even though I'm tall). I'm in university rn training to be a scientist. I've always been the smooth chested girly type, and I'm so jealous of all the fuckboys and athletes I see around campus

One of the Boys:

Being a woman is hard enough, but throwing transness on top of that brings it to a whole other level. Sure, she lucked out with how accepting her university was, even having the science program of her dreams, but she wanted more. Deep down, she secretly longed for the life that could have been. She desperately craved to be one of the boys everyone always wanted her to be: traditionally masculine, straight as a ruler, and dumb as a brick.

Every night, after thoroughly being exhausted from school, studying, and work, she'd drift off to fantasies of being the perfect dumb jock.

One morning, like a miracle from god, she awoke in an entirely new and permanent reality. She had finally become the "He" she'd always secretly wanted...

No longer at the top of the science program but a flunk on the brink of being kicked out. No longer a virgin waiting for the right guy, but a womanizer with a body count in the three digits. His new swole, bulked mass finally complements his unchanged masculine height. No longer a loner but the big man on campus: a frat king who went to bed exhausted not from studying, classes, or work but from fucking cis and trans girls till his balls were empty.

Sure, being dumb and jobless has its downsides, but it doesn't really matter if you're hot as fuck!

#female to male transformation #transformation #gay to straight #trans to cis #suggestion

[saturnville]

smoke, drink, break-up

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x black fem oc (linnea lowtower. warning: a few curse words. content: coriolanus lies to linnea about something major, resulting in a nasty disagreement. an: ngl, I don’t like this as much as I thought I would but it’s too late now lol. I thought of smoke, drink, breakup by mila j when I wrote this, so, that’s a loose connection to the title. hope y’all enjoy!

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

The silence was deafening and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. He had never felt so small; not since his father was alive. It had been years since someone’s harsh gaze made him quiver, stammer over his words, and feel shame like a peasant in the presence of a king.

He wasn’t used to seeing her hard gaze. Her brown eyes were often full of love, adoration, and desire. Just for him. As they bore into his raging seas, he saw behind them flames of fire that he couldn’t quench. Out her ears blew steam and from her nostrils quick and shallow breaths.

Her lip twitched. The restraint was clear from a mile of way. Her fingers clenched around nothing. If she could wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze, she would. So tight until the vein in his temple became visible and the vessels in his eyes swole with fear.

“You lied to me.” Her words were sharper than the knife in front of her. It laid beside aggressively chopped vegetables—potatoes and broccoli spears. “Not only did you lie to me, but you lied about lying to me.” Her hands now gripped the sides of the counter.

“Baby—“ Linnea held her hand up. Coriolanus halted immediately.

“We had this conversation. When you became president, you’d end the Games. What did you do instead? You met with Gamemakers, teachers, politicians, and the freaking students at the Academy to tell them about the upcoming games!” Her voice was a lion’s roar—mighty and rumbling. “You promised that you’d end it. We agreed that there was no point in continuing to divide the Capitol and the Districts. What is wrong with you?”

How dense and unaware could she be, he thought. The Districts were no better in the present day than they were during the Games six years prior. Everyday, the Districts proved to be primitive, uncivilized places with inhabitants that lacked discipline.

“The people in the Districts need to learn that actions have consequences, Linnea. They’ve worsened over the years, and surely have worsened since our last conversation. Some things don’t need to be changed just because we think they do.” Coriolanus tried to be careful with his words. The last thing he wanted to do was anger her beyond repair, but it was too late.

She didn’t agree with his thought process. It was evident as her nose scrunched and her lips turned up. “I am District 11.”

Coriolanus scoffed. “No, you’re not. You’re nothing like those—“

“Those what?” Linnea challenged sharply. “Those people? Newsflash, I am not Capitol, Snow. I am District 11 and District 11 is me. I was one of the lucky ones. And if I had missed my mark, you know where I’d be? In that arena fighting for my life while people like you, those people, laugh, mock, and torture people born like me for fun, and because their feelings were hurt.”

Snow? How could she—“Linnea,” Coriolanus stepped toward her. She stepped back. “It goes deeper than that.”

And there it was. The volcano erupted and flames spewed from her pores. She smacked away the hand that cupped her waist and jolted a finger against his chest. “You are an insufferable human being, Coriolanus Snow. Insufferable, prideful, and a damn fool. Find someone else to keep you company.”

Linnea brushed passed him and swiped her coat off the hook near the door. Coriolanus’ footsteps were heavy as he stayed hot on her trail. She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. She’d be damned if she stayed with him.

“Linnea, where are you going?”

She didn’t turn back as she stated calmly, “Away from you.”

He never understood why people downed their sorrows in alcohol until the loneliness settled. Linnea hadn’t returned in a little over a day and it drove him mad. He knew where she was, he always did, but it didn’t make it any better.

The dismissed every call and message that was addressed to her. He hadn’t felt such a deep sense of rejection since his adolescence. He couldn’t go a day without speaking to her, but to know she could go without communicating with him with ease? It ate him alive.

Once she left, he took the time to ponder on what she said. Linnea was right—she was a District 11 citizen, and no marriage, no amount of money, and no prestigious education would erase that. And had her father not married a Capitol woman after her biological mother passed away, they’d still be in District 11. Attending a reaping, planting seeds in the group, or dead. God, he couldn’t imagine life without her.

Coriolanus knocked back the last of his drink and reached to pour another.

Insufferable. Prideful. Foolish. Had she truly meant that? Prideful, he could agree with. But insufferable and foolish? Unbelievable.

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall above his desk. 2:14 AM. He took another heavy swig of his drink. No sign of her return.

The home was eerily quiet when Linnea crossed the threshold a few hours later. Only the ticking of the clock was heard. She kicked her shoes off by the front door and padded toward the dining room. She threw her locs over her shoulder then winded her when her rings got caught in her hair. “Dammit. Coriolanus!”

Linnea stayed with her father and step mother for two days. She knew it wasn’t a wise decision to leave her husband without communicating with him, no matter how upset she was. Her father reminded her of that.

She wished she was more like him. More understanding and empathetic. He wasn’t pleased when she told him about the argument she and Coriolanus had, but he reminded her that they were of different groups—the elite and the working class. He saw things in a way she didn’t because that’s how he was always raised to see things. His view was narrow, and he needed someone (her) to help him expand it. So, she came home. To settle the tension and to talk to her husband.

“Coriolanus,” she repeated. She frowned when she entered the living room and found him on the couch, covered by her favorite throw blanket and a bottle of expensive alcohol on the coffee table. He was never the type to drink heavily. “Coryo.” Linnea tapped his shoulder. He stirred in his sleep like a child, but his eyes opened widely once her face became clear.

“You’re back,” was all he managed to say. Linnea nodded slowly. She nudged his side and he made room for her body. Her head rested against his chest and her was tossed over his. Coriolanus wrapped an arm around her waist and gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah,” she said lowly. “I’m sorry for leaving. I was just really upset and didn’t want to say anything else I’d regret later.”

Coriolanus hummed softly. “I’m sorry for not being competent. For not trying to see your point of view of things. I think when you’re in a certain headspace for so long, it’s engrained in you until you’re willing to unlearn it.

“The Games are unnerving. I don’t know what I’d do if things were different and you died in them. Your father would’ve been without a wife and a child…and I never would have gotten the chance to call you my wife…my friend. I am sorry, Linnea.”

There was a silence. So, he continued. “I’m not saying it will be easy, nor am I saying no punishment will occur for any act of treason or rebellion, but I’ll bring an end to the Games. Effective immediately.”

Her head shot up. “Are you being serious? Don’t lie to me, Coriolanus.” He nodded. Linnea smiled softly. “Thank you.”

His hand dropped from her waist to the swell of her bottom, which he squeezed softly. He leaned down and capture her lips with his own. She moaned softly as his tongue caressed her lips. Her mouth opened and he explored it with delight. Coriolanus smiled against her lips, “Thank me upstairs.”

#saturnville #original writing #original content #black!reader #black reader #thg series #thg #the hunger games #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x linnea lowtower by saturnville #coriolanus snow x black fem reader #coriolanus snow x you #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus snow x black oc #coriolanus snow x black reader #coriolanus snow x reader #young!president snow

[tfcaptions2]

Yo, bro! Check it out, I can see that confused look on your puny little face. Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you, Mr. "I'm-so-smart" over there. You remember when you called me a meathead, huh? Well, guess what? I turned your geeky buddies into absolute units of pure, unadulterated muscle. Look at these two beasts flanking me, flexing their massive biceps like it's nobody's business. They used to be those pocket-protector-wearing, calculator-toting wimps, and now they're like the freaking Incredible Hulk's cousins.

Oh, don't even think about it, dweeb. Your noodle arms couldn't even lift a feather compared to these sculpted specimens. My new pals here, they bench press small cars for warm-up, and they eat protein shakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We hit the gym so hard, it's practically our second home. And you? Well, you're just sitting there, looking all scrawny and out of place.

Listen up, twerp, my crew doesn't associate with losers like you. We're the kings of the weight room, the lords of the protein powder kingdom. You? You're more like the court jester, cracking jokes about our gains while we're out here making those gainz. These new friends of mine, they're legit. We share our secrets on how to get swole, how to build that body of steel, and we laugh at dudes like you who can't even lift a gallon of milk without breaking a sweat.

You see, bro, it's all about dedication, discipline, and pure unadulterated muscle power. We're not just physically superior; we're a brotherhood, a fraternity of brawn. And we're too busy sculpting our Adonis-like physiques to waste time with losers who can't even tell a dumbbell from a doughnut.

So, do yourself a favor, geek. Admire from a distance as we continue our ascent to greatness. While we're out here pushing our limits and redefining what it means to be alpha, you can keep hiding behind your textbooks and computer screens. It's a meathead world, my friend, and you're just living in it. Peace out, pencil neck.

#male transformation #male transformation caption

[wordsformizu]

Your Father's Daughter Mizu x Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Chapter 2.

There were no words left to say for this assignment. You were to be in and out, and if anyone were to interrupt or attempt to stop you you kill them too. A quick disposal of garbage your father did not find fit for his future. 

The Kamiizumi’s are a family of wealthy merchants that began offering their financial help to support your fathers cause. They believed in his greatness and wanted to be on the right side of history, which you translated to being “On the safe side”. They were on whichever side that would keep them as one of the richest in the country and currently that was your fathers. They held no true morals and only believed in currency as time and time again it has proven to keep their hinds safe, stomachs gluttonously full, and even the darkest of their desires satisfied. As slimy as slugs on a wet leaf after it rains and with the same backbone as one, the Kamiizumi family were truly distasteful to you. It was an honor that your father sent you to cut off the head of the snake. 

Your father taught you that gossiping was a horrible hobby to uphold. A  hobby that should be left to women to carry as wasting time is not a task a man should be performing. And the head of the Kamiizumi family was a horrible gossip. Letting slip your fathers plans and his true allegiance to the young girls that frequented his home. And girls, they speak even if you aren’t listening. After a few sips of warm sake, and some comforting strokes on his pimpled back, he would begin spouting information along with his blank seeds. Red in the face for both stimulating actions.

 Yes, your father taught you a lot about this society and the responsibilities of women and men when you would have time for your talks. The importance of a man, and the subservient duty of a woman and what happens if order is not in place. 

“Everyone and everything should be in its rightful place, and it is the responsibility of Man to uphold this system.” he would explain. “If God were generous we would live happily, but we have hands and will and hunger. With these tools Man becomes king under the heavens.” he would speak the last part to himself in a low tone before going onto the next topic. “For on this earth, there is no God.” 

It isn't like you had forgotten you were a woman, the soft features were present on your face and though you were built petite, you could see the perk of your breasts in certain angles. You would catch yourself in the mirror at times when your mind would curiously wander on the topics of beauty; though these moments were rare. Other young women your age were a bit more developed, more womanly and full. You sometimes wondered what kind of woman you would have grown to become if you weren't so malnourished and underfed as a child. Would you have grown taller, with more slender legs instead of the thin ones you possess? Would you have more curves to your figure for your kimono to hold onto as you wrapped it around your body? Would your lips display as blossom petals on your face when you applied lip paint to bring out more color to your features? All these thoughts you let yourself explore for a brief moment as you prepared yourself for this assignment. 

Slipping on the okobo’s you had found, you headed into the night to begin. This wasnt your usual attire, but you were able to slip onto the Kamiizumi property on time without drawing any attention to yourself. In the late nights at the end of certain weeks, the Kamiizumi head of house would throw a small party just for himself and a few friends who shared his tastes. Young women. No not women, girls would be gathered like flowers in a vase to decorate his halls with their youth and essence. Him and his lowly friends would pick their favorites and pluck from them their petals of innocence and virtue. They would do this until they became too old for the weekly visits, or their bellies swole with budding life. Sometimes that wouldn't stop them. Through the halls you could hear the cries of children, and the moans of men. Two sounds that should never cross, you thought to yourself. Men like him were beastly. Barbaric. It was an honor that your father left the final say in your hand. You were glad to be the period to his sentence.

You took to wandering the halls, wondering which room would inhabit your target. You hated listening, but it was important for you to hear if you could recognize his voice through the acts or possibly someone whispering his name to lead you into the right direction. Finally you came across a room with its door shut. You thought to yourself what was the point of a closed door if you could still smell and hear everything going on within its walls.

“And he has eyes that are blue-” you heard one of the men inside the room grunt and then collapse onto the floor. 

“Like an Onryo.” You heard him finish in a pant. The thought of this man speaking on your father set a spark of fire that traveled through your skin. The only blue eyed man you knew was your father, his boss, and he dare spoke of him while relieving himself as if he were common gossip at a brothel. 

You moved to a far corner so that you could slip deeper into the shadows, but stay hidden from anyone who left the other rooms. 

“Its said that he disgraced the once honorable student now Samurai of the Shindo Dojo .” You heard another man speak. “Cut off the top of his chonmage.” The men ooo’d and and spoke amongst eachother. Some laughed, arguing if the samurai deserved it or not.

“I heard he opened the mouth of the beast and tore out the Four Fangs.” 

You caught on to what they were speaking about. The Four fangs were an elite group of assassins known across Japan for carrying some of the most lethal exterminations. Whoever it is that they were discussing was not your father as your father and that group have never crossed paths according to his stories. They were speaking of someone else. Someone more dangerous than the Four Fangs. You leaned in to listen.

“I would have paid good money to see that.”

“You fools would believe any lie. Any fool can say they defeated anyone, it doesn't mean they did. Look here, this small rabbit defeated the Four Fangs. Didnt you, sweetheart?” You heard a quick smack of a hand on flesh followed by a child's yelp and a gaggle of laughter. You winced. 

“Who is this nameless samurai anyway? Or can we call him a samurai?”

“A crazed murderer is more like it.”

“They say-”

“Who says?”

“Those who get the chance to witness him and live to speak-”

“Oh, God.”

“Anyway, they say he’s on some sort of mission. A friend of a friend-”

“A friend of a friend, he says”

“A friend of a friend has told me that he is hunting down specific people. People that arent of our own. Foreigners.” Silence as the men slowly began to understand what this meant.

“It is said he has already taken down one of them.” There was more silence before someone finally spoke.

“It was about time someone handled this problem.” This was the voice of the Kamiizumi’s family head. You recognized it by the wheeze of his lungs that followed behind every sentence he spoke. This was caused by his years of smoking, it has weakened him as a man. 

“I’m simply saying what we all are thinking. We all knew eventually we would have to rid our land of these white men. I will speak my mind, because I am the bravest.” and the dumbest, you thought to yourself.

“If anyone finds this “White man” killer, let me know. I will pay a hefty price to speak to him. Maybe we can be rid of our own..problem.” 

A few cleared throats and muffled “Im tired”s “I must rest” “Good nights” later and the men, and girls, came pouring out of the room, headed in the direction of their guest spaces. Everyone came out, but the Kamiizumi head was the last to poke out. He was just as ugly as you remembered him. His stomach left the door before he did, gray hair trailing from his navel to his exposed pubic region. His face was not a sight for sore eyes as it was heavily aged beyond its years and held craters and moles in different areas. His teeth were yellowed, and you couldn't tell if his hair was shining from grease or hair oil. When you have money, you don’t have to consider others. You can be as ugly as you want, inside and out.

He looked down the left side of the hall, watching his friends slip into their guest rooms. You watched from the right, deep within the corner. He would eventually shift and return back to the room and in doing so he will spot you here. After watching him for weeks, one thing you knew of him was that he couldn't help touching something shiny and brand new. For all he knew, you were a new girl brought to him that he had never experienced before. He would approach you, and beckon you into the room to comfort him into the night. And spot you he did.

“Would you look at that. Were you hiding behind all the other lovely dolls brought in, or saving yourself for last?” He approached you, lowering his stance which made the stench of alcohol and unkempt dental hygiene stronger. You backed away from the scent, but was sure to put on a face of fear. One of the benefits of appearing so young was being able to use it to your advantage. It wasn't the first time you’ve used this tactic. You would feign weak and feeble, younger than your true age. You weren't hideous, and once again if your mother had spent her money on feeding all of you more and giving you the proper nutritional value as a young child you were sure you would have grown into a full and beautiful woman; but now that you're stuck in this slightly smaller than average malnourished body you could take advantage of the people who viewed you as weak and vulnerable. This allowed you at times to exploit them and target their soft spots. Appearing weak and feeble allowed certain people to pull you in. Close enough for you to strike where it hurts. Men like Kamiizumi enjoyed torturing the weak and feeble. Even better, he liked naive. Untainted. Clean. 

He was eating the reactions you were feeding him out of the palm of your hands, his hunger striking again. You were sure to lower your face incase he noticed the hatred you held for him through your eyes. This also wouldn't be a good time to be recognized as he was now leading you into the room. 

“Lucky you I have energy for one more,” his laugh sounded like mud trying to push its way out of a small hole. “I’ll be sure to be slow with you so we can cuddle all night. The other girls your age like that.” 

The minute the door shut, the stench surrounded you, forcing itself down your throat. It was so strong you could taste the room, and looking around you didn't need much of an imagination to know the absurdities that happened in here. It was rancid. Repulsive. Revolting.

  You didn't realize he had begun speaking, rambling about whatever nonsense.

“There's something familiar about you, I can't pin it, but I like it..” Your senses were becoming overstimulated, and you needed to focus. 

“- and I can show you how a real man breaks in dolls like you. Don’t you worry though.” he began reaching towards you, and all you could see was his grimy sweaty palms and fingers as large as sausages threatening your personal space.

 “ I’ll be gentle…”. The buildup of skin under his fingernails. The scent. The sweat.

“...so you can come back.”

His blood was warm before it cooled and dried on your skin, spraying everywhere. This was erotic in its own way, except you got to choose what was being ejected. He reached for his neck quickly, trying to clog the deep slice you left in the deep layers of his skin when he was crawling closer. His usual gurgles were louder now, but he couldn't scream as you were sure to strike his vocal cords as well. The right price for someone who gossips as much as he does, you thought. 

“You-..” the realization hit him as he began to recognize who you were far too late. In the corners of the room, behind your fathers coat. He had seen you but as always too late.

He tried to let out some sort of noise to alert the others, but instead let out noises of a dying fish. Skillfully switching the dagger from one position in your hand to the next, you lifted your arms to deliver your fathers final say.

Approaching the entrance of your fathers study, senses of relief began to wash over your being. Home again, after another successfully completed assignment. You were drenched in blood from your hair, to the hems of your kimono. You overheard a conversation taking place behind the doors.

“Sir, I apologize. We didn’t know-”

“I knew.” You recognized your fathers voice, but it didn't sound like your father. There was no warmth, no peace.

“I knew, didn't I?”

“Yes, Sir..” The man sounded petrified, like he was pleading for his life. You approached the door to peek inside. 

“And you didn't listen.”

“Yes, Sir-”

“Say it.” 

“We didn’t listen..”

“Right.” You heard the hit before you saw it with your eye. The man let out a blood curdling scream before your father hushed him. You might've heard a bone crush beneath the grip your father had on the man, but you weren't sure. 

“You're going to fix this.”

“We’re going to fix this..” The man spoke through the pain, blood seeping out between his gritted teeth.

“And next time you’ll listen to me when I say to-”

“And next time we’ll listen to you-”

“Do not interrupt me.” Your father spoke, followed by more crunches and whimpering from the man. 

You watched now, this man who you called father, violently lashing out on one of his followers. You had never seen this side of him before. A colder, violent side to him. His usually groomed hair, now letting out a few strands as he overpowered this man. His top coat now removed. Everyone could get angry, but never your father. He was never angry. Never bothered. Never disturbed. He was prepared for everything, anything. It’s one of the things that made him above man, above all.

A few moments passed before he let out a sigh, releasing the man to drop onto the floor hard. He combed his fingers through his blonde hair, fixing it and then adjusting his vest. 

“I expect immediate results. Do inform me if anything changes in our favor, friend.” His voice was beginning to sound familiar, lighter, at ease again but not quite there yet. His strides are long, so he leaves the man on the floor to pick himself up and walks towards his desk, reaching  the other side of the room in no time.

The man throws opens the slide door and limps past you so fast  he didn't even see you. You stood there at the entrance of the door, but close to the shadows. If it was your father, he’d know you were there sooner or later. He would feel you. Your father would know. He’d know-

“Come,” the warmth in his voice returned and a wave of emotion washed over you, threatening to overtake you. All of a sudden you were five again, running into the safety of his arms. Approaching the side of his desk quietly, you made sure to ignore the blood on the floor. One of the house maidens would clean it spotless as if it never existed. Until then if your father has decided to not address it, so would you. 

One look at you and he clicked his tongue in disappointment. You had forgotten the mess you were in, and even worse you had brought yourself in the presence of your father looking this way. Shame shaded your cheeks before it was met with a damp towel, and the other with the padding of his palms. He held your head still as he wiped away the blood. He knew. 

If you were snow, you would melt in the palm of his hands, and if you were a himawari flower you would bloom in his direction. Though you weren't a child any longer, it was moments like this that made every mission, every completed assignment, worth it. Your eyes fluttered in comfort, before finally closing. Yes, this was your father, and that was just a moment that that man definitely deserved. The same way you have earned your fathers softness, and comfort, he has earned his harshness and was punished for whatever mistake he shouldn't have let happen. Simple enough. At the end of the day, it was this man who knew your strengths and weaknesses, it was this man who built you into who you are. It was this man who knew how to soothe your nerves. It was this man who made you great. 

“There, now I can see your face.” Your eyelids felt heavy in this moment, but you opened them still to meet his. A door opened in your mind, reminding you of the oceanside he took you to as a child. How he rolled the legs of his pants up so that you both could enjoy the water, your sudden shock of the coldness touching your skin followed by giggles and laughter, how you thought to yourself that his eyes reminded you so much of the sky’s horizon, how they were the same color as-

“The ocean.” The words slipped from your lips in an accidental whisper. 

“The ocean?” He repeated smoothly, pausing for the moment.

It was then that you were reminded that his eyes weren't the only ocean blues in Japan, and that these ones were possibly looking for him. 

“There is a man looking to kill you.”

Your father smiled and began wiping at your face again, tilting your head with delicacy. 

“There are a lot of men looking to kill me.” he said plainly.

“No,” lifting your arm, you rested your hand gently over his and met his eyes with a desperate urgency behind them.

“This one is different.”

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu x reader #writing #bes mizu #blue eye samurai fanart #bes x reader #your fathers daughter #yourfathersdaughter #fanfiction #mizu brainrot #mizu fanfic