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mariacallous · 5 months ago

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Star Wars fans have lived with Mon Mothma for a long time without ever really knowing her. The ethereal Rebel leader has been a regal but enigmatic figure for four decades, but all of that is about to change with episode four of Andor, the Disney+ series about Diego Luna’s devoted spy that also chronicles the strengthening of resistance in the galaxy far, far away.

Genevieve O’Reilly portrays Mon Mothma on the show, which will finally delve into the intense personal story behind this politician from the planet Chandrila. “In her public role, there is a requirement to be calm, there is a requirement to project serenity because the cost is so high, the danger is so extreme,” O’Reilly tells Vanity Fair. “Mon Mothma can't step into the drama that is often surrounding her. But I think what Andor allows is to see the private alongside the public. You can reveal so much when you take that public mask off.”

Even casual fans of the franchise will remember Mon Mothma’s striking first appearance in 1983’s Return of the Jedi, with actress Caroline Blakiston playing the caftan-clad, priestess-like figure who advises Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, and Lando Calrissian about the Empire’s construction of a new Death Star. “Many Bothans died to bring us this information,” she intones gravely.

Star Wars faithful still don’t know what a Bothan is, even after all this time, but they’ve caught glimpses of Mothma here and there. O’Reilly first played her as a younger woman in 2005’s Revenge of the Sith, which revealed that Mothma was a novice galactic senator back when Darth Vader was forged and Emperor Palpatine took over the galaxy. Her speaking lines exist only in a deleted scene, but her appearance as a silent background figure in the finished film was unmistakable.

Fans were left to connect the dots between how an upstart politician became the leader of a guerrilla space resistance until 2016. That’s when O’Reilly reprised Mothma for a more substantial role in the stand-alone prequel Rogue One, serving as a kind of M to Diego Luna’s galactic version of 007, Cassian Andor. The new series is set five years before that, when the two were still unknown to each other, living distant parallel lives—the powerless refugee, and the frustrated powerbroker, both trapped in a corrosive system they hope to change.

The patience of Star Wars fans is about to pay off. The so-called Mother of the Rebellion is now coming into sharper focus.

“This woman has been a part of this universe for so long—and with great respect to George Lucas who created her as a female leader of the Rebel Alliance back in the early ‘80s. That was, I'm sure, as ambitious then as it sounds now,” O’Reilly says. “ I have always really loved the opportunity to step into this woman's shoes. There is something in Caroline's original portrayal of her. I always go back and watch that scene just to remind me how they originated it. I think there is a pain at the center of that.”

For her, it all comes back to the Bothans, those unknown spies who gave their lives for the information she relays. It’s information that she knows will necessitate a battle that will certainly cost even more lives.

“She has that very famous line that people will say to me: ‘Many Bothans died…’,” O’Reilly says. “I always wondered what that was. I always wondered what she was carrying, what her own personal sacrifice was, what the cost to this woman was—and continues to be.”

Andor showrunner Tony Gilroy (The Bourne movies, Michael Clayton) predicted in May that Mon Mothma will become a trending topic when episode four airs. That day is now upon us.

“She's this figurehead of liberal democracy that will fail, and ultimately, she'll go to the Rebel Alliance. We stick to the timeline and the major events. But as you can see, we're saying, ‘You don't really know what's going on with her,’” Gilroy says. “Nobody has really known what's going on with her. She's had a much harder time than we knew.”

The revelations about Mothma are more intimate than Star Wars storytelling usually gets. Andor shows her not only struggling to hold together the nascent rebellion, but it also bears witness to her tumultuous and combative marriage to a husband named Perrin (Alastair Mackenzie). Fans have seen Han and Leia trade barbs, but they’ve never seen anything like these two.

“Just wait, just wait,” Gilroy says. “Their marriage is as complex as any marriage I've ever written in any show I've ever done, or any movie I've ever written. Their relationship, how they negotiate it, where it ends up, the shifting power dynamics of it… It's as complicated as anything I've ever worked on.”

Part of the problem is that Mothma's husband Perrin is all too comfortable living in the luxury of the Empire. “She's the boss. She’s the senator. And he's an epicurean,” Gilroy says. “He just wants to live life, man. ‘Why can't we have fun? Why does everything have to be boring? Why we have to do all this political shit? Who cares about this revolution? The revolution's a pain in the ass, man. Let's have fun!’”

It would be a spoiler to reveal how that relationship plays out, but Gilroy and O’Reilly are willing to describe the origin of this mismatched couple in advance. “They were married at 16. That is a very big thing in Chandrila,” Gilroy says. “She has a daughter. It was somewhat of an arranged marriage.”

If that seems shocking, it’s worth noting that 16 was also the age when Mothma became a senator. That sort of thing happens in the Star Wars universe; Padme Amidala, Natalie Portman’s character in the prequels, was also “elected” queen of the planet Naboo when she was a child.

O’Reilly says Andor confronts what it’s like to live with so much responsibility for so long. In some ways, she says she and her character have grown up together.

“I have played her since I was very young and Mon Mothma was one of my first roles,” she says. “What is it to live within that orthodoxy? And what is it within that familial culture where the woman has the more powerful public role? What does that do to the balance of power within a home? How difficult or easy is that to navigate? And what if your husband has lent into the very voices that you are trying to oppose?”

For O'Reilly, it’s not just a story of good vs. evil. It’s about the many sides of a conflict that can exist sometimes within a single person.

“There is a public space and then there is a private space. And with Mon Mothma, we are definitely walking that tightrope in Andor,” O”Reilly says. “What can I reveal in a private space? What is the cost to her? How dangerous is it? How dangerous is it to have a voice—or to risk having a voice—in this very volatile political climate? How costly is it to speak up against autocracy? How is it to navigate not only a public space but also your private home when your voice is very different, when you are a woman speaking in a very male-dominated, arguably aggressive world?”

O’Reilly’s hope is that Star Wars fans will realize that Mon Mothma is not such a mystery after all. There are versions of her all around us.

“You don't have to look too far, no matter which profession you work in, to see women who are trying to effect change from within,” she says. “I looked to different female leaders around the world and sadly we don't really have enough of them still. Often they are lonely voices, or voices that others are trying to silence. I see a correlation with those voices and with Mon's voice. For me, I didn't have to look too far to see the women that I believe can be reflected in Mon's fight. I recognized her. I recognized her fights. I want to stand up for her as a character because I think we can all recognize her.”

#mon mothma #andor #star wars

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izfims · 2 years ago

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sugarcoat — chapter fourteen

masterlist | previous | next

I’M SORRY!

“we’re just going to get a few more clips of you guys together along the river, then you can have your alone time,” the producer says, “i bet you’ve been waiting for this all day as a fan.”

“i’m not a fa—“ you’re interrupted when you feel a pinch to your arm. you let out a small wince that’s masked by karina’s laugh.

“i’ve also been waiting for this!” karina says, none of the staff detecting her facade but yourself, “come on yn-ssi, let’s go.”

around thirty minutes later of the two of you walking along the river mindlessly, giving each other somewhat fake smiles and pats on the shoulder, the producer finally lets the two of you off the hook. your mic packs are taken off of you and you see karina’s manager give her a look before the rest of the staff go off to a nearby pocha.

then there was the awkward silence.

after spending the entire day together, this was the only time you guys were alone with each other. you follow karina further down the river until you reach a remote area, the two of you coming to an unspoken consensus of sitting on the grass.

you watch as a variety people pass you by as they enjoy the view of the river at night. it was peaceful, serene. you look to your left and see many couples on their picnic mats, laying together with lovesick smiles on their faces.

you can sense karina beside you, fidgeting with her hands. you know she wants to say something. “so,” you start, breaking the silence, “what do you like about being an idol?”

“why don’t you like me?”

she completely disregards your question, and you see her frown as she makes eye contact with you. you’re caught off guard by her sudden confrontation, and all you can do is blink at her. when you don’t answer, she continues to talk.

“i usually don’t care if someone likes me or not, so i don’t know what it is about you that is making me try so hard,” she rambles, running a hand through her hair frustratingly.

you sigh, “it’s not on you, karina-ssi.”

“like you won’t even be casual with me!”

you can see tears threatening to spill from her eyes as you watch her carefully. when she notices your gaze on her, she looks away, blinking away the tears ferociously. “it’s just the wind,” she claims, using her sleeve to wipe away any tears that managed to fall.

“there’s no wind tonight, jimin,” you put a slight emphasis on the last word, and her eyes widen in surprise when you’re finally casual with her.

“you know my real name?” she asks.

you nod, pulling your lips into a thin line as you avert your attention over to the river. there were a few boats drifting by, and the skyline was prettier than usual. “i asked my little sister to give me a rundown on you before i came today,” you admit, “she’s a really big fan.”

“yeah, i know,” she lets out a small cough to ease the awkwardness beginning to fill the air, “you’re only here because she signed you up.”

you look at her confusedly once more, “wait, how do you know that?”

“my friend might’ve stalked your account,” she avoids making eye contact with you as you let out your first laugh of the entire day. she can feel herself biting back a smile as she glanced over at you throwing your head back with a grin. it sounded like music to her ears.

“are you sure it wasn’t you that stalked me?”

“i only scrolled down a couple of tweets,” she says, throwing her hands up in surrender, “but stop changing the topic.. why don’t you like me?”

you shrug, settling your hands on your knees, “i don’t know.”

an incredulous expression stretches across her face, “what do you mean ‘you don’t know?’”

“i’m just not a fan of idols, or of anyone in general,” you say nonchalantly, “also you punched someone and that kind of rubbed me the wrong way.”

jimin lets out an exasperated groan, “can you stop mentioning that? you don’t think i know i punched someone? i have the entire media reminding me everyday and i don’t need another person to do so.”

“sorry but that wasn’t the greatest first impression i have of you.”

“yeah, i didn’t have the greatest first impression of you either.”

the two of you are engulfed in another wave of silence as you sit there. the tension was so high that not even a knife could cut through it.

“i only punched him because he basically told me the media only loved me for of my body and that my parents should be disappointed,” she utters quietly, and you feel rush of guilt course through you.

there it was.

the moment your friends knew was coming.

“i’m sorry,” you answer, but she doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. (—and wow, you really wanted to beat yourself up after this one. )

when she doesn’t reply, you sigh as you continue, “i’m sorry for judging you based on one thing, and i’m sorry for making today such a drag for you when you were just trying to do your job.”

you start to feel uncomfortable as you clasp your hands together, seeing the girl deep in thought beside you — you always hated talking about feelings, whether it was concerning yours or someone else’s.

“i know it doesn’t seem like it, but i had fun today. you’re not who i thought you were,” you push yourself to say — you don’t know what possessed you to do so, but you just hated seeing jimin so… given up, “everyone loves you because you’re an amazing person, and i’m glad i was able to experience your personality firsthand.”

“you’re only saying all of this because you feel bad,” she scoffs.

“yeah, i am,” you straightforwardly say, causing her to be off guard for a second, “but i’m also saying it because i mean it. this is me pushing my pride to the side to admit that you’re not a bad person.”

she scans your face, making sure that you weren’t lying about your words. when she sees the soft crease of your brows and the way you’re nervously biting your lip waiting for her reply, her stoic facade falls.

and she does the one thing you weren’t expecting.

she reaches over and hugs you tightly, nudging her head into the crook of your neck and it fits perfectly almost like a puzzle piece. you’re frozen for a second as your hands hesitate as to where you should place them, your cheeks flushing with a bright red. but when you realize that the idol wasn’t going to move any time soon, you place your hands on her back gently, finally letting yourself enjoy her presence.

“get the camera!” you hear the producer say behind you hurriedly as the staff move around in a panicked manner, “get the damn camera!”

a/n IT HAPPENED IT FINALLY HAPPENED

TAGLIST

@yoontoonwhs @imahallucination11 @slayc9 @nasyu-kookies @leyleypad @mightymyo @runawaymazola @jimanie @awkwardtoafault @limbforalimb @channiesprincess @neuftaeng @i06kkura @lesleepyyy @sewiouslyz @irishbarcafan @winieter @pandafuriosa60 @jiwoneiric @yumtooki @kimsgayness @justme-idle @tocupid @chaerybae

#smau #aespa #aespa karina #aespa smau #girl group #karina smau #karina x reader #yu jimin #aespa x reader #sugarcoat smau

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sirthinks · 5 months ago

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What’s the history of the Bloody Mary cocktail?

In 1917, Chef Louis Perrin, working in a hotel in French Lick, Indiana (what a name for a place) ran out of oranges and used tomatoes instead, inventing tomato juice as we know it today.

(Citation needed, this is a topic with a fair amount of discussion and it's almost certain that Perrin did not actually invent tomato juice. I mean... it's juiced tomato, a fair argument is that it's nature's creation or Gods', whatever keeps your boat afloat. It is mainly put to emphasize that the popularity of tomato juice was burgeoning or resurging at this time.) (I do think he was the first to use it in drinks? But I haven't done any juice research, I beg of you, there is other stuff to talk about (although now; I am intrigued.)

it should also explain why then, in France 1921, we finally have our first claim of the Bloody Mary!

Stating that Fernand Petoit created it in the New York Bar (Now called Harry's New York Bar) in Paris.

The confusion starts here folks!

I don't quite believe Fernand Petoit was the originator of the Bloody Mary. Frankly I'd love to be proven wrong and have this be the easiest question to answer so I can move on with the rest of it's history, but there are two things that frustrate me to think about.

1: I can only find the claim of 1921 being attributed to his grand daughter, rather than him directly. I'd be inclined to just believe historical wear-and-tear on this one, but:

2: He does have a direct quote in 1934 that describes a modernization of the Bloody Mary:

" -it was really nothing but vodka and tomato juice when I took it over"

I may be picking at words. But who says 'take it over' when they are confidently sure they've created it, If it were 1921 -way before all other claims?

To clarify, he's also right. He took the Bloody Mary and ran with it, most people site him as the creator for certain.

All the stories from here get even less clear, to prepare you.

If we zoom a decade forward to the early 1930s, and across the globe to actual New York: We find Henry Zibikiewicz.

There is almost zero information about Henry Zbikiewicz I could find, apart from that he worked as a bartender at 21 Club in New York, and that the bar claims he invented the Bloody Mary.

Let's take a short interval to talk about Henry Zbikiewicz and dead-end research.

I am under the belief that Henry Zbikiewicz was a bartender at 21 Club, and existed. I have found many different utterly too brief ancestry reports and other personal profiles of him (that state that he lived and died, but nothing else), besides this I have no confirmation.

While I would love to search the ends of the earth to discover the truth behind him and his background, I know it either does not exist, or doesn't exist to be found by amateur researchers (self-reference). A lot of information these days is behind pay-walls and internet dives about as deep as the Mariana (trench), and I unfortunately do not have all the time in the world.

What is especially upsetting for me though is finding enough.

I'm certain he existed.

I'm certain he lived.

I am not certain on anything else.

Let's take a longer interval on the nature of death and memory, along my journey to finally discover the Tumblr max word count.

Throughout my life I have always enjoyed graveyards. They are quiet, serene, undeniably holy/weird/sacred/creepy (change as required); the perfect place to be alone with this feeling of connection still running through the stones and the ground you walk beneath.

I'm quoted as saying 'I could die before you' as a small child, in response to my mother telling us about her refusing medications.

I feel as if this explains my relationship with death quite well, I was aware of it and have interacted with it in a casual way for my whole life.

Ramble, ramble, blah, blah, blah, this is all to say:

I don't fear death. I don't remember a time in my life I did fear death, honestly.

But; being forgotten?

That has always terrified me more than perhaps anything else in this world.

So the grim reaper will have to hold off. Till I do something memorable (I already have, and so have you, it's called being loved and loving).

I hope Henry Zbikiewicz is resting comfortably, I hope somewhere there's a family that is his or a friend that has told a tale of him.

These aren't answerable research questions, they'd be intrusive to find the answers to if they were, but they are so hyper-specific I doubt anyone has taken the time to find and ask.

I'd like to offer my favourite remembrance ritual to you, in trade for giving you existential dread: Go into a graveyard, find a grave (I prefer the older ones or ones that are not up kept, but any is perfectly fine) and recite their name for the week.

This way their memory continues, a little tiny bit of it. A name, alas cannot possibly contain all the things that anything is and was, or all the journeys it went down to end in our same shared fate of belonging to the ground.

A Bloody Mary is in this way quite cyclical. Tomatoes natively grow in France, so along with being a cheap post-war resource, (and good lord did France take a huge blow after The Great War (or WW1) but this is a different subject) it is a symbol of new life. Vodka, is a process of decomposition and fermentation (as all alcohols are) and so I feel represents death in a way.

The other well-known (how much knowledge do normal people have of any of this?) story of invention includes George Jessel, noted 1920's comedian and a socialite named Mary (which is where I swiftly transition from invention to naming).

Apparently he fixed the concoction in order to sober up quickly while hiding the smell of alcohol from his wife, then, when his friend Mary asked to try, it was spilled on her. To which she reportedly said:

'Now you can call me Bloody Mary!'

From the 1920's (anecdotal) it is posited that it was made for a Vladimir Smirnoff (yes, of vodka fame) and named Bloody Mary after the inability to pronounce the Slavic syllables in the name (???).

That absolutely STUMPED me until I actually said it aloud a couple times, in a really bad French accent. The 'Vl' quickly turns into a 'Bl' and can see how the rest slips into place. I hope it was something they were laughing about rather than laughing At Vladimir for.

But according to the manager of that same bar (In the 1920's again, he claims), the drink was named after the first person who ordered it. The first said it reminded him of his girlfriend, who he met in a cabaret called The Bucket Of Blood (naming convention match, not the same show), her name of course being Mary.

But! In the 1930's, where Fernand's cocktail is confirmed, he says himself it was called the 'Red Snapper'!

It was called the 'Mary Rose' in a publication from El Floridita in 1939, and claimed as a new cocktail in Life magazine (MAY be the December 7, 1942 magazine as I can find no other mention of drinks on the extensive list of life magazines (yes I looked through all of them)) as the 'Red Hammer'.

So, everyone says something different, and you have to be a special kind of crazy to look through all of it (you're welcome).

There's one more story, and then I'll leave you, I do hope this has been entertaining, I have worked really hard at this in my spare time to make this awful jumbling mass of spoken word information. I do think I've failed slightly at that.

I'm sure all you brits have been waiting, but bide your time just a couple more seconds before I say one more thing:

There is another story of the Bloody Mary, but I don't want to tell it, because it's not history yet. The violent crime in Chicago and the amount of bars playfully nicknamed 'The Bucket of Blood' there over the years are a later claim to the Bloody Mary. It's a story of a waitress called Mary at one of these 'Buckets' and as much as I think that deserves light shed on it, frankly my mental state is not stable enough to.

I want to try my best to be an ethical source of information, and because of this I do want to mention it, but a longer discussion is not going to be healthy for me right now.

So, with that in mind, I have one last story to tell you.

The nickname 'Bloody Mary' for Mary Queen of Scots, or Mary I is first seen written in a historical series by Charles' Dickens named 'A Child's History of England' in early 1851 to late 1853.

She got her name from the over 280 protestants she had burned during her reign (July 1553- 17 November 1558), although it's disputed whether she was called 'Bloody Mary' by her protestant opponents.

Although this name is indisputably much older than any of the 1900's claims to the name 'Bloody Mary', it's hard to pinpoint if it is the true origin for the cocktail being called the 'Bloody Mary'. If it is the true origin, the people who invented the cocktail have tried very hard to find original reasons to call it that. If it isn't true, it is an odd but not implausible coincidence.

In the very end, when all the Mary dust has settled and all the peppercorns have been crushed into the mix, it's always a story of history and memory.

When the tomatoes are squeezed, the vodka added or left out, celery or parsley garnish presented, lemon juice, salt or just tomato juice.

What is the history of the Bloody Mary?

And who says there has to be one?

My first Bloody Mary was in London in a restaurant I don't remember the name of, before seeing Hadestown, a musical about memory and oral tradition, for my longstanding historical advisor (bullshit checker) 's birthday, it's all memory and perception, even at the beginning.

Now, in this moment, and in the past already for those reading (and you, future Tyler, editor extraordinaire). I sit eating eggs and drinking coffee and writing in a cafe I frequent in my town.

There will be a day I don't remember what the interior looks like, how the coffee tastes, what books I rest one of my arms on, and maybe it will haunt me, or maybe I won't care.

If you haven't had a Bloody Mary before, do!

It might not be your cup of Mary, but it tastes like spicy gazpacho soup and I really like it.

There will be a day you don't remember where you were when you first sipped one, what it tasted like, how much pepper was in it, what kind they used, if it had a full stick of celery in it or just the leafy bits or if it had no garnish at all-

-and maybe it will haunt you. You might go back on your memory and overwrite a grand experience of falling off a cliff, Bloody Mary clasped in one hand as the rocks narrowly avoided, you might tell yourself the harsh bite of the wind rushing by you, you may create perilous rocks below;

or maybe you won't care.

But wouldn't you rather have it (the memory) and decide how you feel about it later?

Try new things, or historical revisionism is kinda fine, whichever lesson you'd rather take,

Enjoy your Bloody Mary.

-Ace x

Indirect/various sources:

-A few drinks blog: Who invented the original bloody mary?

-Fernand Petiot: Wiki and Granddaughter blog post

-Life magazine 1942 Archives

-It always begins with a simple search. (Bloody Mary wiki)

Big thanks Henry Zbikewicz, and all the beautiful stories people tell about things, for existing.

And my Sibling, or my historical advisor, for giving me this idea at the restaurant. I almost lost my mind TWICE (Henry Zbikewicz and trying to find the exact Life volume) but it was overall, a very enjoyable experience.

Maybe the next post will take me less than 3 months to write! I doubt it, but the night is young.

#interesting #writing #i love writing #history #is confusing #like seriously #does anyone ever really know?#or are we all just guessing at who Knows what and who thinks they know what #research #memory #good lord I actually don't know how long this took me #too long

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ryuzakemo128 · 6 months ago

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Chapter Two: Gates of Your Hell

cw: implications of smut, reader is an avid reader and writer of erotica, food talk, family drama, stillbirth, emotional family and other dark topics you may find uncomfortable.

Note: I recommend listening to 'Selling The Drama' by Live while reading this chapter.

Word Count: 6173

Joel sat there at his desk, still dumbfounded at where you lived now. A small beach town in Cambria? Who are you? Fucking Martha Stewart? At thirty-six? What the fuck? How did five years just happen to change you this much? He always knew you like him to a degree.

But it was casual, and you even said you had no qualms in keeping it that way either. “Better not get attached. I know how you don’t do serious relationships anymore.” she slyly remarked with a dramatic flourish belonging more to an utterly whimsical fae rather a retired, former hitman.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want anything serious.” Joel murmured to the memory of you in his mind. The wine bottle in your left hand, drinking it straight from the dark glass bottle as you didn’t intend to share it with anyone. The crimson cardigan you wore over your shoulders.

But you were gone like a tornado. Breaking down houses around you. The ones built with time and experience like it was your innate nature. It was something perplexing as it was desirable. Yet the wreckage you leave behind is enough to question where your true motives are lying in.

Joel saw you bright chipper in your garden like those hands of yours never taken another human life. Letting your rabbits roam in the open rabbit enclosure to take advantage of the good weather. Peaceful, quiet, at ease with the serenity. Effortless in your endeavours of complete and total simplicity.

It wasn’t like you weren’t capable of living this way. It was just hard to view you as soft, domesticated, homely and domicile. The stark contrast of this small town to Austin is both jarring and obvious. You took to your retirement well. Your refuge and your secrets kept inside.

Like a treasure chest full of bones instead of gleaming gold and glittering jewels. Bullet casings of guns and rifles you held within your grasp. The smell of gunpowder and blood staining your aura. Akin to shark diving inside a kiddie pool. It is disturbing, unsettling, off-putting, and completely ridiculous.

He assumed you must have found someone already and the letter was at least several years old. What he didn’t know? Your mother wrote it recently, and you were single. Mingling with people, hooking up with some for one-night stands. Your mother’s act of sending him that letter bore fruit.

Joel pictured himself in the middle of your bed on a Sunday, your face planted into his chest, the sound of the ocean in the background. The lovely fact you’d still sleep like a starfish on the top of him. Smelling of your cigarettes, elderberry mead and slow cooked wagyu.

Spotting you while he was staying a weekend there. Alone, sitting in the pub enjoying an ale with a steak & mashed potatoes with steamed veggies drenched in mushroom gravy. Simplistic in terms of taste and choice. Then again, you were always one to stick to what you learned you liked.

It was the book of choice you were reading which stood out to him the most. An intense erotica between an Alpha man and omega woman. The type with a shirtless man on the cover looking at his woman with intense passionate grip on her waist. The typical romance.

And the open note pad of terms you liked from the novel? Hinting at your intent to write more for yourself. The words you scribbled down were ‘throbbing’, ‘sopping’, ‘dominance’, ‘forbidden’, ‘alluring’, ‘temptation’, and ‘ripe’. Phrases like ‘Her heart continued to beat faster than a highly prized mustang on a racetrack’.

Detailed enough to give someone an idea of what you liked about the erotic piece you were writing about. Though the description of the male protagonist was definitely specific, ‘hot-tempered’, ‘coy’, ‘playing hard to get’ and ‘hard to get rid of’, ‘ruggedly handsome’, ‘a billionaire’ with a penchant for BDSM.

‘Bound to him’ with the word him underlined three times, with a picture of a wolf in the corner howling at the full moon. Describing the alpha as commanding but not overpowering, intense but not controlling, possessive but not enough to crush the omega’s own inner flames burning within them.

“Should I kiss it better?” the alpha asked sauntering into the room, the smell of his kill lingering interwoven like faint cologne.

The omega’s cheeks flushed, she looked up at him beneath her long lashes. “N…no.” she whimpered softly.

The alpha leaned into her neck, nuzzling, inhaling her sweet scent, “Pup, you know I don’t take no for an answer. You should know by now.” Inhaling the smell of her from her neck, licking the salt from her skin. The scent of her arousal faintly there, growing by the second, even in her hasty, swift denial.

Your face flushed with the heat growing between your legs. Harder to hide what made you start feeling that way when you’re in public and eating your lunch. Stuffing the book into your handbag, hoping and silently praying no one saw what you were doing at your table. Not like anyone there would have.

You weren’t terribly keen on testing on theory about whether someone would be game enough to ask you out loud. It was one thing to retire down here and become secretive about your previous wok. But completely another to flaunt your erotica around so everyone around you could see it.

Imagine that, releasing your own erotica in paperback in a town where everyone knew who you were? You would surely die before they could start to gossip about the plot behind it. If they could possibly find it beyond all the intense smut scenes within the pages of said book.

Dead. Dead from the pure embarrassment is what would happen. You shivered, the thought of it was both thrilling and terrifying. Though the few older women in town you thought of at times would devour the thing and giggle about it in their small knitting clubs and little book clubs.

The thrilling thought of having Joel Miller in your bedroom hasn’t left your mind. No matter how much time passed. He knew the quiet beach life wasn’t to his tastes. You knew he wasn’t the type to stay settled for anyone. Not even for you. Foolish to hope otherwise, right?

These things last a short time, and you have learned to accept to deal with the fact that a boyfriend or husband was never in the cards for a monster like you. And the victims of the people you have slaughtered would all agree. You were destined to die alone.

While you were working in the coffee shop. Slowly restocking certain items before opening for the day. Your mind constantly wandering towards what else to put into your erotica plot line. The tourists coming in from the big city were your constant supply of inspiration for your novel’s plot line.

As you took your lunch break, you were writing down small notes into your small note pad, names of types of fabric to the names of places people were from. Names of expensive perfumes people wore to the types of shoes they bought. The bell over the door chimed softly.

Snapping your head up from your scribbles. You put up a ‘wanted weekend barista’ for a job opening after deciding to open up a job position as a part-time gig. So you had more time to spend on the back end of your café and writing notes for your novel.

You had to do a double take when you smelt leather wafting in through the door. No. He wouldn’t be here. This town isn’t big enough for someone of his magnitude. His personality was larger than this entire town. Why is he here? Your mind doesn’t quiet down from it.

From all the questions you have buzzing around inside your head. They won’t shut up if he decided to saunter around and leave an hour later. If he even decided to stay there for longer than fifteen minutes. Was this how your bunnies felt? With your heart beating so fast.

You hoped you would have changed enough for him to not recognise you. You pretended to be the nerd other girls bullied you for being. The one guys never asked out because of how you dressed and looked. The quiet girl, forgotten the moment you were out of their sights.

But when you saw him, you knew you hadn’t changed enough. You haven’t changed your aesthetic enough to meld within the people around you, or had you changed your habits of watching people and memorising their every detail. Lingering like a begotten memory inside your bones and locked inside flesh.

Heat coming to your cheeks as you gazed upon him. Joel shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here at all. He should be in his ivory tower looking over the people below him in wage and in proximity. Taking large, slow, deep breaths to calm down your racing, beating heart.

He would recognise you, there was, there is nothing you could to prevent it from happening. Delay it? Sure. But for how long? How long until he did? Would it take minutes or hours? Would he leave and come back? You didn’t know. But you knew the moment had arrived.

The moment of total and complete truth arrived at your door step. There he was, Joel Miller, dressed in a sharp black suit that contrasted with the warm, cosy ambience of your café. The kind of suit you often wore during your time as an expensive bodyguard to rich women.

Your heart rate spiked again when you felt his eyes on your back. Taking a deep breath, turning around as he spoke, his deep voice rough, “Is this seat taken?” You could have sworn you were about to either melt like a candle or snap in half from the shock.

You coyly stated, “I don’t know, are you cute enough to make the cut?” Your very first attempt at flirting at someone at work. A nervous one. But an attempt was certainly made. You just hoped he didn’t seem too weirdly off put by it, like your first crush was.

Corners of his lips twitched into a smirk, playing along with your delightful banter. “I've been told I clean up rather nicely,” Joel replied, his voice a smooth whisky slithering through the air and coiled around you like a warm embrace. Not long before the feeling in your stomach returned.

A flutter in your stomach, the same one you hadn't felt in years. Your heart skipped a beat. Did he just flirt back? No. He wouldn’t. Would he? No. He wouldn’t. You were certain you weren’t his type at all. You were dead certain you weren’t anyone’s type or fit.

It felt like it came from out of a page of the novel you were writing. Too much of a fantasy to be real. To be right there. You were certain he was only being nice, polite, and friendly with you. Like most attractive guys lingering around you usually are.

“Well, I’d say you’re more than a little welcome to take it.” You replied, smirking, as you were trying to play it cool, calm, collected, as you possibly could. The opposite of you in ways. As you pointed at the chair opposite of you. “What would you like to order?”

Joel’s eyes never left yours as he sat down, his gaze piercing through you like a knife through warm butter. “How about a cup of your finest black coffee and one of those apple fritters?” He said, his smirk growing wider, as his eyes never leaving yours for a second.

As if he was trying to read the very thoughts that were racing through your mind. But you enjoyed playing hard to get at times. Playing coy, aloof and unaware. Unaware of the potential ‘love story’ brewing between the two of you. It made the chase between you breathtakingly hot.

Nodding as he spoke, the tip of your pen gliding across the page of your tiny note pad in your grasp. Trying your absolute hardest not to completely melt into a puddle from the way he looks at you with his deep chocolate brown eyes. “Coming right up.” Standing up.

Your legs felt wobblier than a newborn fawn’s and your heart beating fast than a bunny’s in heat. Walking away from the scent of his expensive cedar wood and leather cologne. The heat from his body lingering like a phantom. You felt like you were wading through thickening sweet honey.

Joel eyes watched how you stumbled a little. A small victory among the many to come his way. He had your attention, your interest, and it was thrilling to have it after all these years. He leaned back in the chair and waited patiently for you to come back with his order. His gaze never wavering from where you were standing at the counter. Amused at how you floundered a little. Impatient thing, aren’t you?

‘You’ve killed men like me before. But what it came to me? You? Floundering around over me?’ Joel pondered with a smirk, looking smug to others around him. But for him, it was glee, pure and simple. Watching you from the corner of his eye as he read the paper.

Picturing yourself handling a sniper rifle is what made your hands steady again. Odd to think about. But it was the only way to get them from visibly shaking like a scared mouse about to be eaten by a stray feline. You had to remember your training. Your job before you decided to leave that life behind you. Soothing in a way. An odd way to self soothe according to your spirited therapist yesterday afternoon.

You took your sweet time brewing his coffee. Inhaling the sweet, rich aroma of the beans to calm yourself down. The sound of the grinder and the espresso machine hissing like a cat that was poked with a stick. It was a routine that you had mastered well in retirement.

You had to have something to keep you sane. No matter how small it may or may not be. Delivering his order on a retro styled trolley which made him smile. He certainly didn’t expect you find and refurbish such a thing. He enjoyed the sight of you navigating it.

The three apple fritters fresh, warm and the smell of cinnamon sugar-coating it wafting through the air. You set them down before him, the plate making a light clinking sound on the table. Placing his mug of coffee next to it. “Here you go.” You murmured, trying to keep calm.

Joel gazed at the napkin with your number written on it. You were bolder than what you were before, that much is clear. The red lipstick kiss mark, the ‘call me after 6’. It gave him enough of a shock to his system to realise you became more womanly now.

You weren’t the same girl he knew. You had changed. Grown into a woman who knew what she wanted. He took the napkin, his thumb rubbing over the lipstick smudge. A thrill shot through him at the thought of you being so forward. To think he, the playboy being courted.

The scent of your perfume still lingering on it. It smelled of lavender and jasmine, a scent he never knew you favoured. He took a deep breath, committing it to memory. “Thank you.” He said, his eyes never leaving yours as he took the napkin, tucking it neatly into his pocket.

Though you were waiting to see his reaction to the apple fritters, if he enjoyed them? You would surely melt into a puddle. Food is a big thing for you, even before you retired from your previous profession. Good food is something you always enjoyed with unfiltered, unbridled, passion.

“They’re heavenly. Thank you for the recommendation.” Joel took a sip of his coffee, watching you closely. He wasn’t expecting the joy coming from that statement. Your face lit up like a Christmas tree. And he didn’t even have to take his clothes off? How novel, quaint, utterly charming, fanciful.

The tapping of your fingers together in absolute, complete joy and glee as he enjoyed them as much as you did. As everything you baked and put on your menu is something you personally liked too. As you wouldn’t put anything on there you personally wouldn’t eat, enjoy or devour.

“I’m happy you like them, they’re fresh out of the fryer, and I personally make them every morning. The apple orchard isn’t too far from here. They’re organic too!” You replied, trying not to seem too eager, but your smile gave away your excitement. It gave away your elation, eagerness.

The way you used to scrunch your nose when you bit into something sweet, the way your eyes would light up when you found a good wine, and how your voice would drop when you were really into something. All these observations he made of you coming into play again.

You weren’t someone who played the card of ‘eager to please’ because you spent enough time into knowing what you liked. Joel’s gaze didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about your apple fritters. He could almost taste the sweetness of your words as you spoke aloud.

The stark contrast to the bitter reality of his past with you. The way you used to be so guarded and closed off. Now here you were, smiling genuinely at him, serving him like you’d do for anyone else. The smell of apple fritters mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Creating a scent between you both. Wrapping around you like an old memory. Staining the ground for all to see.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence, “Is there anything else I can get for you?” Joel’s eyes never left yours. “Just the bill, for now.” He replied, his smirk not fading away. You nodded, turning around to grab the check. His lovely eyes went wide in complete, total surprise.

You had only charged him ten dollars for the entire order. You had never charged more than five dollars for anything on your menu. Something he took note of now. It’s no wonder why he saw so many locals come in and leave with a huge smile on their faces.

You also declined tips. You didn’t ask for tips, and you certainly wouldn’t take tips either. Often encouraging people to spend it on themselves or to give to charity instead. Something he found to be rather baffling. To his knowledge, You weren’t rich, you weren’t even close to his status.

Yet you were so incredibly generous with both your service and your time. You brought the bill over, placing it on the table with a gentle smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.” You turned to leave, but Joel's hand reached out to cover yours. The warmth of his touch was electric, sending vigorous shockwaves throughout your entire body, like an ocean waves crashing onto a beach’s shoreline.

“Actually,” he began, his deep brown eyes holding yours down with an intensity you could feel, “I'd like to talk to you more about your… exquisite taste in writing.” He leaned in, his warm breath pressed against your cheek.

“I couldn't help but notice the terms you had scribbled down earlier.” The smirk on his face grew more pronounced, hinting at the curiosity now growing into a full-blown fire in his eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks burn with a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the café. “It's just a hobby,” you murmured, trying to play it off. “A little something I do in my free time.” You hoped he couldn't feel the way your pulse is now racing under his touch.

Joel's grip tightened, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your knuckles. “I'd love to read some of it,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble sending shivers down your spine. “Perhaps it could be… an inspiring piece.” The double entendre wasn't lost on you, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool.

“Are you sure? I didn’t peg you to like that kind of thing? I’ve seen older woman read stuff like it than a man like you?” You replied, trying to play it off as if it was something trivial. But the way he was looking at you, it was anything but trivial.

His hand didn’t leave yours, “Oh, I assure you, I have quite the eclectic taste when it comes to literature.” His smirk grew wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, hinting at a mischievousness that hadn’t been there before. “Besides, I’ve always had a soft spot for a good plot twist.”

“It's a whole less death defying my previous job, that’s for sure.” you quipped. “Definitely preferable to a knife coming at me. Hard work trying to guard someone sometimes. Never mind the fact of hiring someone like I was supposed to be as a bodyguard is always odd to me.”

“And the kicker is the knives thrown my way were during those types of jobs more than the other. Weird. But not the kind of job I assumed would be so….intense.”

Joel remarked about his bodyguard, “Ah, the life of a billionaire. It does come with its fair share of drama, doesn't it?” His eyes glinted with amusement as he took another bite of the apple fritter. “But I'm sure you've seen more than your fair share of intense situations.” He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking slightly under his weight.

“Yeah. A lot of the concerning ones I've had to be there for, which stand out to me the most, are more familial related.” you stated.

Joel nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Family drama can be quite… bloody, at times.” His words had a hint of darkness to them, a nod to his own tumultuous background that you knew nothing about. The way his jaw tightened ever so slightly at the mention of family was telling.

��The bloodier ones are more rare compared to the emotional side. The emotional side of ‘coming out’ to parents, I didn’t know I could be so much more angry and sad with people who should be raising their children.” You spoke, your voice filled with a hint of bitterness, “But they refuse to move past their own thinking to see their child hasn’t changed. They just know more about themselves. Or maybe when they dead name their child on purpose.”

“And most of these are children, young teens and older teens about to graduate.” You spoke, your voice filled with a fiery passion that you rarely ever shared with anyone else. “They just need someone to watch their back while they try to live their lives in peace. It’s not much, but I try my best to keep them safe from the monsters out there. Even if those monsters are their own flesh and blood. So I adopted the ones who weren't accepted. I said, ‘Fuck it. I'm going to be your mom now’. They require someone to love them unconditionally and not tie it down with a dollar sign. It’s a simple concept but one that’s lost on some people, unfortunately.” You spoke, your voice filled with conviction and a hint of sadness.

“To think I was skilled in taking life? I was saving as many of them as I took. I became a mother and I didn't have to wait nine months or get pregnant either. I told them the hitman thing and their response? They said I was a superhero. Just not the caped kind. You have no idea how that made me feel. I swear I cried a little.” you remarked with a laugh.

Joel couldn’t help but laugh a little at your words, his eyes warming up a little, his smirk turning into a full-on smile. “I’d say you’re doing a fine job as a mother, even if it’s of the unconventional kind. You’re giving them the love and protection they need. And let’s be real, not everyone can say they’ve taken a bullet for their family, let alone literally.”

“I hate to break it, you pup.” slipping up into your old persona a bit. “But my instincts like any well-trained total babe. It's still there.”

Joel reacted to your 'well-trained total babe' remark with a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with a mix of surprise and admiration. “So you're not just a pretty face, huh?” He leaned in closer, his hand still over yours, his thumb continuing its soothing circles. “I had no idea you were hiding such a fierce protector underneath that sweet exterior.”

“Not really hidden if you knew where to look, or what to talk about. For example, I had one of my children graduate not too long ago. I made them apple fritters and a pavlova to celebrate. They were so happy.” You spoke, your voice filled with warmth and pride. “I had another one finish their medical exams, and they were so stressed. So, I decided to make lasagne with chicken, spinach and ricotta cheese, their favourite. It's all about knowing what people like and how to make them happy. And I know you like apple fritters.” You added with a smirk.

Joel’s smile grew, “I can see that. And I’m sure your kids love having you around.” He said, his voice gentle. “But what about you? What makes you happy?” His question was genuine, something that threw you off a bit. You weren’t used to people caring about your feelings.

“Food. My bunnies. Writing. Writing letters by hand rather than typing them.” you answered. Especially, potato noodles.”

The sudden mention of potato noodles made him laugh out loud, the sound echoing through the café. “Potato noodles? That's a unique choice.” He said, his thumb still tracing circles on your knuckles, the gesture now feeling more intimate than before.

“Yeah. Spicy potato noodles. Made from mashed potatoes, Potato starch, and Chilli oil sauce.”

Joel's curiosity was piqued, “You know, I've never tried that before.” He said, his gaze lingering on your hand, the napkin with your number still in his other hand. “Maybe you could teach me how to make them sometime?”

“Yeah! I must warn you, the chilli peppers I use to make the Chilli oil sauce are either jalapeños or ghost peppers.” you answered.

Joel's eyebrows shot up at the mention of ghost peppers. “Ghost peppers? Now, that sounds like a challenge I might have to take you up on.” His smirk turned into a grin, and you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge, especially one that involved food and spice.

“I used to snack on Jalapeños between morning jobs, the spice was more than enough to wake me up. But when I found out about Ghost Peppers, it was like someone turned up the heat in my kitchen.” You laughed, the sound light and airy, the kind that filled the café with a sense of comfort. “But if you think you can handle it, I'd be happy to show you.”

Joel's eyes danced with excitement, “It's a date.” He said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. The word ‘date’ hung in the air, thick and potent, like the aroma of your coffee. Was he really asking you out? You hadn't felt this nervous since your first date with the quiet guy from high school.

“But for now,” Joel continued, “I'd like to settle for your company.” He gestured to the chair opposite him, his smile never fading. You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up even more. You couldn't remember the last time someone had made you blush like this. Furthermore, you sat down, your hands folded neatly in your lap, trying to calm your racing heart.

“I take it you haven't heard about my older brother's 'business venture' in Japan yet?” you asked.

Joel leaned in, his expression shifting from playful to intrigued, “No, I haven't. Tell me more.”

“He's gotten more philosophical after his firstborn was a stillbirth. Nasty business that. Yelled more about my previous job and said, 'If you weren't a hitman, my child would have lived'. I didn't say a thing. Couldn't. He was grieving, silence was the only 'gift' I felt I could give the man.” you continued after a pause, “The venture was to 'break from familial bad blood'. Noble in endeavour but far too late. Our family is steeped in crime, mafia ties, drugs and human trafficking. It's not something you can easily walk away from.”

“I appreciate his attempt, though, all things considered. It's the thought that counts, I guess,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. Joel nodded, his gaze understanding. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I've had my fair share of family drama as well,” he admitted, his voice a low murmur that only you could hear. “But I've always had the luxury of choosing my battles, thanks to my wealth.”

“We have wealth, just not gained through legitimate means.” you playfully teased. “Our metaphorical skeleton closet is so full it’s overflowing into the neighbour's yard. They’re complaining about the smell of dead bodies and dirty money.” You took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly filled the air.

“Even if we tried to clean it, it'd take a whole year to get it sorted out. And that's not even counting the real ones under my grandmother’s house in Florence or my aunt’s in Milan. Though it does pale in comparison to one of my uncle’s body count differently.”

Joel smirked at the fact your uncles fucked more than he ever stole from or killed. Which to him seemed rather impressive. “I’ve got enough skeletons to start my own haunted mansion. But none of them involve dead bodies in a closet. Unless you count my exes, which are plenty dead to me.” He quipped, the mood lightening a bit.

“How many of them were messy break-ups? Has been at least 3 right? The royal bad things come in threes rule.” you remarked. “Weirdly, apart from the casual thing I had with you? I had one crush in high school. I handed him flowers on the first date. Thinking, 'People like flowers, right?' and he was allergic. Hindsight is always 20/20.”

Joel chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Only one messy break up, really. And it was more of a 'messy' situation rather than a break-up.” His eyes took on a distant look for a moment before he shrugged it off. “But that's all in the past.”

“I had my cousin go through that, and that is worse than three breakups. He said, ‘I would have preferred to deal with three messy break-ups from three different people rather than with the same person for three years’. The guy was a saint. Or a glutton for punishment. I'm still wondering which it was.” You laugh, shaking your head slightly.

Joel looked at you. The gates of your hell were far different from his own personal hell he went through. The choice to approach you here wasn’t as bad as he thought it would have been. Possibly a little unconventional. Though, nothing about you is conventional in the slightest. Even when the two of you were still casually dating. The odd things about you stood out more when you weren’t there anymore. It’s hard not to get attached to you.

“A package for Joel Miller.” a courier knocked on his eccentric blue grey penthouse door.

It was a hundred red roses, a USB with your handwriting, ‘A manuscript’ and a card handmade by you. The USB has four main folders. ‘Manuscripts’, ‘Audio Files’, ‘Videos’ and the last one labelled ‘Surprise 🫣’.

The manuscript folder had all your erotica short stories in alphabetical order. Each one had a little note of where you had been when you wrote them. Along with files of glossaries for terms which might confuse him.

The Audio files were recordings of you reading your favourite scenes out loud, advice recordings on how to be intimidating without being physically present, and a few recordings of your personal thoughts. Your voice was a mix of velvety and assertive tones, sending shivers down his spine.

Advice pieces like: ‘It’s fine to say no if you’re not comfortable, even if you’re the one who initiated it’, ‘Boundaries are healthy. They allow people to love you more and themselves more. Not less’, ‘Communication is key, even in the bedroom’, ‘If you don’t feel safe? Don’t go through with it, no matter how much you want to’, ‘Consent is a continuous process. You need to be able to give it at every point. If you can’t, then stop’ and many others like it.

Though it was the ‘I want you to remember, learning more parts about what you enjoy and what you like sexually isn’t a bad thing. You can still be fifty plus and like getting pegged by a woman. Which doesn’t sound too bad to me either. Explore your kinks and enjoy it while you’re here. Puritans be dammed.” That had him snickering into his coffee, almost choking on it.

The videos had sub folders like ‘Basic Cooking tutorials’, ‘Advanced Cooking Tutorials’, ‘Baking’, ‘Four Bunnies’ and ‘Beach house tour’. In the baking one, you were making apple fritters, and in the beach house tour, you were giving him a personal tour of your place. The Four Bunnies one had you playing with your rabbits and speaking to them like they were your children.

In the 'Surprise' folder was a single video titled 'For Your Eyes Only'. The anticipation was palpable as Joel hovered over the file, his heart racing. He clicked it open, and what unfolded was a beautifully shot, intimate moment of you, dressed in a sheer robe, recounting the first time you had seen him.

“You wore one of my favourite colours. And I have only four that I like more than anything.” you stated in the video. “It was a crimson red, almost like a maroon but not quite. You looked like you came out of a painting. A Renaissance painting. Or like a Greek statue that had been painted with the most vibrant of reds. I asked you if it was satin or silk, but you just smirked and said, 'It's a secret'. At the time I swear I was so 'You cock tease ugh I want to know so bad'. Cause I don't know about you, but the feel of fabric is a big thing for me, it's like a gateway to pleasure. The way it feels on your skin, the way it feels when it's torn away.” You spoke, the words coming out in a whisper that seemed to caress Joel's ears, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Small things you don't think about normally? They can make or break a moment.” You continued in the video, your voice a siren's call to Joel's desire.

“The way you held my attention was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I was a goner from that moment. I knew you were trouble, but I didn't know you'd be this kind of trouble.” You giggled, a sound so light and carefree that it filled Joel's chest with warmth.

“Though, it was the reaction you had from when my brother fainted at my retirement announcement. You facepalmed at his dramatics like you were watching a terrible play.”

“You could have fit in with the Italians there, the hand gestures, the facial expression of exhaustion and disappointment, speaks to the ‘My son fainted at the announcement of a new sire’. Only he was more dramatic. But that's why we get along. You don’t take things too seriously, except when you need to.”

Another video was of Porridge and her little babies, “There’s Orion, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Cepheus, and Draco. Don’t get fooled by their cute looks. They can throw tantrums too. But they’re all just little balls of love and fluff. I swear, I’ve never felt so much love before in my life. I’ve taken a bullet before and felt less alive than I do holding them. It’s weird, right?”

Joel found himself smiling at your words, his thumb absentmindedly playing with the edge of the USB drive. He knew you had a soft spot for the animals, but to see you light up talking about them was something else entirely. It was like watching a different side of you, one that was rarely exposed to the outside world.

If this was your hell? He was more than happy to leap through the gates in order to get close to you again.

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magewolf-the-artist · 1 year ago

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Yeah so I decided to update Susan's ref sheet because oh my god it's so fucking ugly-

But yeah, I'm much more satisfied with this one because I've developed my style for drawing these fuckers a lot better and the pose radiates more personality.

Old ref: https://www.tumblr.com/magewolf-the-artist/743345425139040256/on-this-episode-of-walten-files-brainrot-heyyyyyy?source=share

Here's her bio with a couple add-ons:

Apparently she's British (Her accent is still a mystery to me but I've seen a couple people say this so ehhhh). So my headcanon is that her family immigrated to the US when she was four, so while she does have an accent, she doesn't really say any slang. Occasionally she might call someone a twit (affectionate) or a twat (derogatory), but that's about it.

At some point during her fun little maze adventure, the neck cables that held up the animatronic head snapped due to the constant pressure of Susan's broken ass neck forcing her head to loll to the side. While at the facility she found that she can use metal ties to hold the cables upright. She has to tighten them constantly though or else her vision will be forced into portrait mode

Ashley fixed the cable while she, Kevin, and Hilary were there and Susan is forever grateful to her

She probably accidently breaks it again through something stupid like bumping her head against the door frame or something and boy oh boy was she PISSED

On that topic, she tries her best to upkeep her and everyone else's bodies but there's only so much she can do with limited tools and slightly worse motor skills (imagine doing a task that requires very precise movements through winter gloves and you'll pretty much get the idea)

She refuses to repair Bon though and tells him to figure it out himself.

She's become way more snappy, short tempered, and easily frustrated after her death. Trauma, baby!

Susan kinda acts as a shoulder to vent to whenever anyone needs to talk. She can’t really offer much in response or comfort since A, she’s the type to push things away and compartmentalize, and B… well, she can’t exactly promise everything’s gonna be okay, now can she? Still, sometimes it’s nice to just talk

Some days though she just kinda… shuts down emotionally. Just kinda lays on the floor and can’t find any motivation to get up or do anything. Thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, staring blankly into space

Charles usually stays with her during these episodes and depending on the day, he either just sits with her quietly or rambles about random shit like he did when they were alive

Her sleep schedule was super fucked up when they all came to the facility because she was used to being up and around at night. It's gotten better but she still sometimes wakes up buttfuck early and has come to appreciate the serenity of the nights (RETCONNED)

Probably the most casual about her death, as opposed to Rosemary's crying and Charles desperately trying to change the subject

She walks with a very distinctive shuffle, something she picked up from her fun little maze adventure because the weird shuffle walk helped lessen the pain she put herself through and conserved energy. It used to be a lot more pronounced but it's faded slightly overtime

Usually hangs out with Charles

Is constantly exasperated by Charles' antics

To pass the time she either plays card games with Charles or organizes the tools in the maintenance closet

She tried to talk to Rosemary when they were first brought to the K-9 facility but only got silence in return. She's kinda just given up now and mostly leaves her alone

Is the most familiar with Bon's abilities and didn't even bother trying to escape the facility because she knew it was futile

Helps coach everyone but Rocket on how to move

When helping Ashley figure out to move she probably made an off-handed comment like, "if you think that's hard, imagine having to learn how to do this while being alive" and only realized Ashley had no context for that when she gave her a very confused and worried look

Hates Bon's guts and is usually annoyed/angry with him

She also hates Felix's guts, but everyone does so it's not anything special.

#the walten files #walten files #susan woodings #twf fanart #twf banny #twf susan #the walten files fanart #Domestic K-9

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raisoramizu · 5 months ago

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Chapter 7: Lucifer's Intervention

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic "New Order" (Radioapple/Radiostatic/Radiostaticapple) - Previous Chapter: Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 Follow me on Bluesky or X - Raisoramizu

https://x.com/Raima_chan https://bsky.app/profile/raisoramizu.bsky.social

The images for this fanfiction are for illustrative purposes only, and all credits go to their respective artists.

Despite Vox's commanding presence on the screen, Lucifer's gaze remained locked on the slightly glitchy image of Alastor. No matter how much he stared, he couldn't make sense of the details or notice the oddities. The jealousy tearing him apart blinded him to the obvious.

Charlie and Vaggie, however, had noticed the change the day before when they had crossed paths with Alastor at Vox's studio. As Vox continued with his broadcast, Charlie cast a worried glance toward her father.

They were in one of the CEO's broadcasting studios. Behind the scenes, a large group of technicians buzzed around, managing the show. Valentino lounged in a shadowed corner, smoking, one arm wrapped around his torso as his glowing red eyes followed Vox's every move on set. His golden tooth gleamed in the dim light as he chuckled softly, though his grin was anything but amused. His attention shifted to Alastor, focusing on the telltale pink hue coloring his features.

Vox gestured with his usual enthusiasm, the curious bandage on his screen drawing attention.

"As I mentioned earlier, the podcast will air twice a week, but here at Vox Channel, we always care about our dear viewers." He spread his arms wide. "So, you can vote from home on what the first topic should be! As I list them, they'll appear on your screen. Call the number, send an SMS, or visit our website!"

Vox's magnetic voice reverberated through the studio, each word carefully chosen to keep the audience hooked. His smile was very different from the one he wore in private, especially over the last few days since Alastor had been with him. His eyebrows were raised, his mouth soft, trying to exude trust—and it worked. Trust us.

"The topics will range from why the future is better than the past," he announced as the colorful title "Why the Future is Better Than the Past" flashed across the screen, "to strategies for maximizing profit from moral corruption."

As Vox casually gestured, outlining the podcast program, he felt something cold and slick brush against his calf under the table. Alastor, still smiling, his chin resting softly on his knuckles, drooled faintly, his eyes glazed over. He was completely gone, drunk on something otherworldly, too serene. Anyone who knew him well might have noticed if they weren't blinded by their own rage or depression.

A shadowy tendril coiled around Vox's ankle, snaking up his leg. Vox stiffened but kept his composure.

"Ah-ah, another episode will focus on the art of mass entertainment and how to manipulate audience perception," Vox continued, though beneath the table, he was desperately shaking his leg, trying to dislodge the slimy thing. But Alastor was relentless. The tendril crept further, slithering up Vox's thigh.

Vox's smile began to twitch, a sheen of sweat visible on his screen. In a split second, his mouth dipped so low it nearly vanished off his face as he glanced down, spotting the slimy appendage coiling around his groin under the fabric of his pants. He darted his eyes back to Alastor, who maintained his blissful expression, seemingly lost in another world.

"We'll also discuss... ehm... maximizing the potential of your subordinates. Eh-eh..." A ding announced the next topic, just as a spark of electricity shot between Vox's antennae, right above his cap, when the tendril curled into his pants, slipping past the waistband. Not only that, but something else was sliding under his pants leg, snaking up from his sock to his bare skin.

What the hell was Alastor doing? Was he awake? ... Maybe he had given him too much of Valentino's crap, turning him into a monster worse than him. He shouldn't have dosed him that morning. Not before the interview. Or maybe it was Lilith's doing—after all, the pact said Alastor would be his without much effort, right? But now? Was this Alastor finally his, stripped of all sexual restraint? A beast with an affable face that would molest him in inappropriate places, and that he'd have to keep in check to avoid getting sodomized at every opportunity?

It was exhausting. And now? Valentino.

He was in the backstage. Damn it, why had he gotten himself into this mess? He didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity or cry from the pressure. Between Lilith, Lucifer, and Valentino... he was going to explode.

But at least he could still screw Alastor. After today, he'd bend him over. How dare he?

Too many thoughts. The room had gone silent, and the Stag Demon finally spoke. His voice, calm and almost cheerful, broke through the tension: "And don't forget our special segment on making infernal contracts far more... enticing."

The tendril wrapped tightly around Vox's crotch, moving beneath the fabric, causing his pants to bulge as another slipped lower, seeking a more intimate position. Vox clenched his jaw, his smile stretching unnaturally as he pressed his shoes into the ground, his butt planted firmly on the chair to block its advance. But the slick tendril rubbed insistently against his growing hardness, making him shudder. His screen flushed with red, and he shot out a hand, gripping Alastor's shoulder tightly, causing the demon to jolt, his chin slipping from his hands.

"Al-Alastor! You forgot the songs... you wanted... to sing, right?" Vox's voice cracked as he turned to the demon, his hypnotic right eye flaring wide.

... Alastor froze, his eyes locking with Vox's, wide open. "AH!" he exclaimed, his mouth widening into a radio whistle. "Oh yes, of course ~." The tendrils retreated instantly, disappearing into the shadows beneath him. "You'll hear my lovely voice in song as well." He turned back to the cameras, creating deep interference on his image as the ding announced the next segment, "Exclusive Songs from the Radio Demon."

Vox collapsed back into his chair, legs splayed. They should crown him King of Problem Solving for the shit he had to deal with.

This time, Lucifer had clearly seen what was happening, at least when it came to the tentacles; a cold grip clenched his stomach, a sudden and burning nausea flaring up as he stared at the TV. His expression, initially one of surprise, twisted into a mix of disbelief and fury. Alastor's calm and detached smile, coupled with his obvious closeness to Vox, ignited a spark of anger that quickly turned into a wildfire. His face began to change: his eyes grew darker, the whites of them turning red, and thin golden smoke rose from his horns.

"What kind of game is this?" he muttered, his voice thick with poisonous resentment, vibrating through the air like distant thunder. His tail slithered behind him, crackling with an almost electric tension.

"Dad...?" Charlie called out to him, concerned, moving closer in an attempt to snap him out of it. She knew those signs well; her father was on the verge of an explosion, and that kind of anger would only cause more problems. "Dad, please, come on." Her voice softened as she placed a hand on his arm to calm him. "It's no use watching this... but you need to step in. Alastor isn't himself."

Lucifer's demonic and confused gaze fell on the hand his daughter had placed on his arm. "What do you mean, he isn't himself?"

Charlie let out a loud sigh. "Aaahk." She slapped her forehead in frustrated exhaustion. "Can't you see it?!" Lowering her head between her shoulders, she gestured toward the TV with both hands. "Does that look like Alastor to you? Hosting a live podcast on the internet, with video?!" Her voice rose as she suddenly darkened the whites of her eyes, tilting her head to the side in a poor imitation of the Radio Demon. "'I've got a face for radio!~'"

Lucifer stared at her, bewildered.

"You should know him better than I do!"

That line hit the angel hard, like a stab wound, draining all the fire from him and returning him to his natural— and slightly disheveled—human form. "...Maybe... maybe I don't know him at all," he muttered, his golden gaze lowering to the floor.

Charlie's expression hardened in anger, her eyebrows knitting together as her mouth tightened in frustration. "OH, Dad!" she snapped. She grabbed his shoulders with both hands and started pushing him out of the kitchen. "...That's enough. Let's go get some breakfast, and we'll talk it over." She guided him toward the bar, which doubled as the dining room for guests. She shot a glance at Vaggie, who immediately straightened up like a soldier, nodding and gathering plates and glasses before following them.

Charlie led Lucifer to a seat while Vaggie set the table for breakfast. Husk was behind the bar, as usual, and Niffty was bustling around with no clear purpose. Angel Dust sauntered in, yawning loudly.

"Eat something, come on..." Charlie urged her father, watching him anxiously as he stared blankly into space.

He wasn't the only one lost in thought; the atmosphere in the room was off. It was usually a place of laughter and chaos, but now, silence reigned. Husk quietly wiped a glass, and Niffty had seemingly vanished. Charlie looked around in confusion, her eyes landing on Angel Dust, who didn't seem inclined to join them at the table. "...Angel, aren't you coming to have breakfast with us?" she asked.

"Eehk... nah, Charlie. I think I'll head back to the studio today."

"You've got work?"

"No, but," the spider demon paused in the middle of the room, one hand resting seductively on his exposed hip while the other ran irritably through his platinum hair, "I'm just wasting time here. If I worked more for Val, I could afford my own place. I'm not cut out for redemption, it's bullshit, you know that, Charlie."

Charlie's eyes widened as Vaggie, equally shocked, stood beside her.

"The spider's got a point," Husk chimed in, his deep voice breaking the silence as he slammed the empty glass onto the counter. He tossed aside the rag he had been using, spreading his red-and-white wings wide and crossing his arms over his chest. "...I'm only here because that horned bastard made me. But it looks like he's decided to have fun with that rectangular-faced freak. I'm made for chaos, for freedom, not a place like this."

"Wh-what are you saying, Husk?" Charlie stammered, her voice wavering as she stepped forward, while Vaggie tried to calm her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "...I thought you cared about us. Didn't you say that? We fought angels together!" she shouted.

"I'm tired of being treated like I'm crazy! Ahaahuae!" Niffty's voice rang out, cutting through the moment and whatever response the cat demon might have given. "Why should I clean a place that doesn't appreciate me?!"

Charlie's eyes widened. "What are you talking about? Who doesn't appreciate you?!" she asked, but the room fell silent once more before she suddenly stormed toward Lucifer—or rather, the table in front of him.

The angel was still sitting there, silent and passive, staring into the void as if he weren't even in the room. He snapped back to reality when the table in front of him flew across the room, sending everything on it crashing in all directions—in the chaos—thrown by none other than Charlie. When the Seraph lifted his golden eyes, startled and mouth slightly agape, he found his daughter transformed: her blonde hair had come loose, swirling in an invisible, hellish wind as she radiated heat. Her eyes were full of rage, black with red pupils, and her curved demonic horns gleamed. She was rigid, fists clenched at her sides. Now, she was the one who had exploded, and her anger was clearly directed at him.

"You need to act, Dad! And I don't mean smashing appliances in the hotel!" she yelled. "Don't you see what's happening? Something's wrong; there are no new guests, and everyone's losing it! I know... I know you've never cared about anything or anyone, that you wouldn't lift a finger if all our people burned..."

Charlie's voice rose as she screamed at him, creating an eerie silence in the room. Everyone was frozen, including Lucifer. The angel, in particular, felt a deep sense of panic clawing at his chest; he knew this feeling all too well—the rapid heartbeat, the shallow breaths, the heat pressing down on his head.

"...But if you won't do it for yourself, for Mom, for... Alastor... at least do it for... me!" she continued, trembling visibly with anger. "Don't you care about me at all? Why did you even come to live in the hotel then? You can just leave and..." She paused, her fury reaching its peak: "And swallow that useless Faith you still carry!"

Charlie's outburst was accompanied by a burst of flame from her hair and a slight shockwave that rattled a few chairs, but Vaggie's hand on her shoulder was once again calming.

Her partner soothed her with just a touch; Charlie's eyes widened as she realized what she had just said to her father, and her demonic form melted away. She brought both hands to her chest, guilt and fear flooding her as she looked at Lucifer, still frozen in place. The angel didn't move, his face a mask of shock.

"Oh, Dad, I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to," she stammered as Vaggie wrapped an arm around her, letting her melt into sobs. Her face flushed hot with shame, and her eyes filled with tears that quickly spilled down her cheeks as she shook with sobs and gasping breaths. She buried her face in her hands, then in Vaggie's shoulder, who hugged her tightly and started rubbing her back.

"It's okay, calm down... sometimes we break. We're not made of stone. Neither are you..."

"...This is what it means to be human, right?" Vaggie smiled at her, prompting Charlie to lift her tear-streaked face in surprise.

"...Oh..." Charlie murmured. "...That's beautiful, Vaggie... it's beautiful to be fragile sometimes, it's normal... ooooh, Vaggie, ooooh," she cried, wailing loudly under the embarrassed stares of everyone in the room, including Vaggie, who, after a few more pats on her blonde head, started guiding her toward the hallway. "Let's go rest for a while, come on," she said as Charlie continued sobbing.

As they moved, Vaggie passed by Lucifer, casting him a worried and meaningful look.

The angel hunched his shoulders and understood it all; with a sad and troubled expression, he took a step toward them, his hands instinctively reaching out as if to touch his daughter, but then he hesitated and let them fall. If Charlie had that mental breakdown, it was entirely his fault. He'd come here to help her, but instead, he kept causing her problems, lying to her, hiding the truth, drowning in his own self-pity, and only bringing her pain. She had held him up until now, fully aware that there were secrets she hadn't been told, and him...? What was he doing? He needed to do this for her. He needed to do it for himself, and damn it... he wanted Alastor. The demon would explain, down to the last detail, the reason behind all this behavior, even if Lucifer had to drag it out of him—along with his whole damn tongue.

The show had been over for a while, but Vox was still on edge. The air in his apartment at the top of his tower was thick with tension. It felt like the structure itself, alive with the latest electronic technology, was responding to his mood: the lights were dim, the wooden floor gleaming with metallic reflections, and the numerous TV screens in his personal studio were flickering with static images. The atmosphere was sinister, almost claustrophobic, loaded with distorted, oppressive energy that filled every corner.

The TV Demon paced back and forth like a caged panther in front of Alastor's still figure. The Radio Demon stood there, his backside leaning against the same mahogany table they'd had dinner—and done other things—on the night before; he wore the same blissful smile he'd shown during the broadcast, but his eyes were more glazed over, absent, and the flush on his cheeks betrayed the effects of the aphrodisiac still coursing through him.

Vox, on the other hand, was stressed. Not exactly angry, but close. The memory of Alastor's tentacle slipping under the table during the show, making him look like an idiot in front of the viewers, burned like acid. He'd tried to keep his composure, not to let on that anything was wrong while the Radio Demon messed with him with that blissful smile and unchanging expression, but the audience was sharp, and some viewers had noticed his embarrassment.

"I don't get it. Are you under my control, or are you just screwing with me?" he hissed, gripping the edges of the TV with his claws. He stopped just a step away from Alastor, raising his red eyes to meet his. "...Are you under my control?" He asked sharply, as if it were up to the other to tell him. A stupid question to ask someone under hypnosis, and yet...

"Yes, I'm yours, Vox~" Alastor crackled with his radio effect, stretching that smile, though it didn't quite match the lust-filled haze in his eyes.

At those words, the TV Demon froze, literally stunned, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide. On top of that, he blushed fiercely, enough to light up the screen and warm his skin. He'd never expected to hear something like that from Alastor—not just for him, but in general. It was a brief moment, and then he snapped out of it, filling up with anger again; he grit his teeth, narrowing his gaze. "Then why the hell did you pull that stunt? Huh? Think you can make me the laughingstock of your show?"

Alastor calmly pushed off the table, starting to approach him.

"...?" Vox stared, uncertain.

"Because I love provoking you. When you're with me, you're so pathetically emotional, especially when you lose control," he said, adding, "By the way... control that you think you have, but never really did." He gently placed his palm against Vox's chest.

"What are you saying?!" Vox snapped, but at that touch, he gulped.

Vox's heart was racing; he could feel it pounding against that touch, rising up past the collar of his vest, toward his bowtie, stiffening. "You get flustered, you blush, you sweat a ton, and you project it right on that flat screen of yours." Alastor's claw traced noisily along the dark edge of Vox's face. "And also..." He raised his red eyes toward Vox's cap. "...You get electrified."

It happened right then: the tip of Alastor's claw grazed the serrated antenna of the other Sinner, which lit up with crackling sparks. Alastor tensed, drooling even more of that pink substance from the light shock, and then he leaned in completely, gripping the sides of Vox's screen and kissing him.

He tilted his face, pressing against the screen, pushing his red tongue into the TV Demon's mouth, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Vox responded intensely, shoving his much broader, longer blue tongue into the Radio Demon's maw. The gesture heated him up, and he grabbed Alastor roughly by the hips.

"Heheh..." Vox chuckled nervously, slamming Alastor against the transparent aquarium wall in an instant, planting a knee between his legs. "...I'm not sure if I should take your words as a compliment or an insult." He paused. "Just to be safe, I'll make you pay for that little stunt earlier," he added in a menacing tone, breathing hotly into Alastor's mouth as he continued to hungrily lap at him, his tongue dangerously scraping against Alastor's yellowish fangs.

Alastor found himself pinned against the aquarium wall, his back pressed into the cold glass as Vox began grinding his hips into him. The Deer Demon started to pant, visibly more aroused than before, thanks to the drug clouding his eyes but igniting his instincts. He was scared; his mind was foggy, torn between frustration and desire. He couldn't form coherent thoughts or fully grasp the situation, like he was stuck in a dream: everything around him moved on its own, leaving him to make unconscious choices.

The water in the aquarium cast shimmering reflections on their figures, illuminated by the blue neon lights in the apartment, as well as the electronic symbols coursing through the bodies of the sharks. These creatures, more bizarre than anything found in the human world, swam en masse toward the glass, tapping all around Alastor as if they wanted to devour him.

But the one devouring him was the TV Demon, leaving bite marks even through Alastor's collar and jacket. On the floor, a myriad of tiny tentacles snaked toward the ceiling.

Vox was filled with an unease that had lingered since the moment he had captured Alastor. It was as if something inside him warned of an impending danger, that everything would collapse sooner or later. He lived in panic. An anxiety he had always heeded carefully, calculating every move and word for profit and power. Until now. Now, he couldn't listen to it anymore. Alastor was there, rubbing his need against the wall. He had slept with him and had every opportunity to do it again. He was under his control, maintaining his irritating cockiness, his lust for chaos that Vox both loved and hated, but now Alastor accepted anything Vox wanted to do with him—more than ever before. And Alastor was seeking him out.

Alastor had been the one to take Vox in when he first arrived in Hell. Alone and lost, Radio—already a powerful Overlord—had extended his hand to TV, and together they had gained more and more power. But Alastor rejected him; he was stuck in the past, unable to grasp the need to keep up with technology, with trends. He didn't return Vox's feelings; Alastor thrived in chaos, Vox in control. And this was the result: Alastor had lost much of his power and now needed to stay afloat. Lilith had offered him a special place under her; Hell would be theirs.

Velvette wasn't a problem. She was obsessed with social media, fashion, always riding the trends and even spotting them before anyone else. But Valentino...

Right then, Valentino barged in, smashing the door open, literally breaking the lock.

The Moth Demon stormed in, his red eyes narrow slits of fury, glaring at Vox and Alastor with a fiery jealousy that seemed to set the air ablaze around him.

"I knew it!" he snarled, the lower edges of his red coat flaring and splitting into wings, sending a shockwave across the room.

!! Vox barely had time to turn his terrified gaze toward Valentino before the shockwave hit him, ripping him off Alastor and hurling him violently against his desk. The impact shattered everything, including the TVs, which crashed down on him.

Alastor, suddenly free, stumbled forward a couple of steps but was immediately grabbed by Valentino's claws around his throat. The Moth Demon slammed him back against the glass wall with such force that a dangerous crack formed.

—~ The Deer Demon let out a distorted, painful radio static, his head bouncing off the wall as he found himself dangling nearly two meters above the floor.

Valentino was tall, much taller than him, and pinned him effortlessly with one arm raised even higher than his bald head. He was choking him; his grip so fierce that not only did his claws dig into Alastor's flesh, but it seemed like he might snap his neck or, worse, break the wall. Inside the tank, the sharks—momentarily startled by the impact—continued to gather around Alastor's figure.

"Maldito ciervo de mierda, ahora te empalo y luego te hago pedazos!" Valentino growled through clenched teeth, his golden fang glinting as his eyes narrowed into sinister, glowing red slits. Around him, thick pink smoke coiled from his mouth.

"Val!" Vox suddenly thundered, pulling himself up from the wreckage of sparking TVs. In a flash of lightning, he used the ceiling's electrical system to teleport next to Valentino.

Vox's face was a mask of rage and terror. He stood stiff, fists clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. He was frothing with fury, the bandage on his screen peeling back to reveal the damage from the previous night.

But Valentino didn't release Alastor, who had partially shifted into his demonic form with branched horns and black eyes with red pupils. He clung to Valentino's wrist with both hands and several tentacles, though they lacked the strength to break free. Valentino merely stomped on them, pinning them to the floor.

"Oh no, dear Voxy," Valentino hissed angrily. "I won't stand by while this cursed clown uses you for his own show!"

"He's hypnotized! He can't help it!" Vox shouted back.

"Hypnotized? He looks pretty awake to me, enough to try screwing you with those damn tentacles in front of all of Hell!" Valentino shot back.

Vox felt a jolt in his chest. This was Lilith's fault, but he couldn't tell Valentino about the deal. He couldn't risk his safety. "He's drugged. I've been dosing him with your love potion since last night."

"...?" Valentino raised an eyebrow, his expression turning puzzled as he glanced back at Alastor, looking him up and down. "Ah, right," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "...so you could screw him. Not okay with me," he growled.

"WE CAN... eheh-eh..." Vox interjected, cutting Valentino off before he could act. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch the Moth Demon but hesitating. "...We can do it together. That's the plan," he lied. He didn't want to share Alastor at all, but it was a better option than seeing him torn to pieces. "Think about it..." he added, his heart in his throat as Valentino stared at him, lips curling downward. "...How humiliating it would be for him. You could even film it." Vox grasped Valentino's shoulders with his claws. What was he saying? Now he remembered why he ended up in Hell.

"Mmh..." Valentino hummed. "Yeah... I've already got a title for the first film: 'Revenge of the Radio Souls.'" He grinned wickedly, flashing his gold tooth. "The demons trapped in his radio break free and take turns on him," Valentino said, his excitement growing as he turned his gaze back to Alastor. "...?!" But Alastor didn't seem to share the enthusiasm: his smile and joints had begun to show green acid stitching, the same color glowing from the massive magic circle, split by four crossed arrows, projected behind him onto the aquarium wall.

A distorted, grating sound filled their ears, coming from everywhere and pressing against their skulls. It was a piercing distortion, growing louder and louder, dragging with it a sense of anxiety and danger. It became increasingly unbearable as the room fell into darkness.

Valentino hunched slightly, clapping two of his hands over his ears with a grimace, while still pinning Alastor with the third. Vox went into a panic.

His panic erupted, silencing the noise, just as the TV Demon's body began to vibrate with an incoming call, PIRIPIRIPI, the ringing replacing his face on the screen. It was one of his employees. Everything returned to normal, including the blue neon.

Vox growled, stumbling backward a few steps, and answered the call, tossing it—no camera attached—onto one of the still-standing screens. His face reappeared on his own screen, while the sweaty face of his bespectacled employee appeared on the floor screen.

- "M-Mr. Vox!?" -

"What do you want? I'm busy," Vox replied, struggling to keep his voice calm.

- "Y-Yes, of course, but... uh... there's... um..." -

"Who the hell is it? Spit it out!"

- "Lucifer, sir!" -

The TV Demon and the Porn Moth froze.

- "The Ruler called just now. He said he'll be at Voxtek in half an hour to see you. Should I call back and tell him you're unavailable, sir?" -

Dead silence. The sound of Alastor's body dropping limply to the floor.

Valentino had let go of him but remained frozen, arm still outstretched and mouth agape. His red eyes darted toward Vox. "Lucifer?"

"No, it's fine, cancel all my appointments for today... all of them," the TV Demon replied, beginning to sweat again.

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selenacosmic · 2 years ago

Text

A sugared birthday.

Birthday special. pt. (2/2).

The special gift - nsfw (minors dni).

Lightly inspired by the story event “dancing queen” from his birthday event. This got longer than I thought it would.

A few days have gone by since the meeting I had with the warlords from Kasugayama, ever since then we were all preparing for Shingen’s birthday in secret. Kenshin and Yukimura would be responsible for organizing the party, Sasuke was in charge of making sure Kenshin wouldn’t go overboard with ordering the sake. He also volunteered to enhance the security of the castle, although I doubt anyone would try harming Shingen, it was better to be sure rather than sorry.

Yoshimoto would be helping me practice for my personal gift to Shingen, since it was mostly his idea. And besides, he is very knowledgeable about art and beauty, specially about Shingen’s preferences. If I really was going to pretend to be a celestial maiden, I would need to know how to act and move, what expressions I should make while talking to him etc. to make everything more immersive.

But learning how to act like a celestial maiden would soon be proven to be a difficult task.

“Not like that, you will knock the cup down if you move your hand like that.” Yoshimoto’s voice carried a sigh, he was being patient as he taught me how to act gracefully. His hands held mine and gently fixed its position, as well as fixing the sleeve from the robe.

“I am sorry, but it’s hard moving gracefully with this. The wings get in the way of my movements.” The robe i would be using for the acting was almost done, missing just a few final touches that would make it look heavenly. But I still needed to learn how to move on it.

“Practice and time will help you, you must stay calm and pay attention to every movement you make. As long as you keep your mind focused, the sleeves and wings won’t get in your way. Besides, I predict you won’t be using the robe for long.” His comment made me blush, sometimes I forget how casually Yoshimoto’s words may sound.

“A-anyway, what else should I do?” Trying to change the topic, I turned to him with that question. I wasn’t confident that the acting would last for very long, eventually i would just fall back into being myself.

“Like I said, it would be good to pour sake for him, as well as feed him the sweets yourself. You won’t have to do much.” He moved away, letting me go back to practice pouring sake elegantly. I focused, like he said, on the position my fingers were around the bottle of sake, how my arms moved as a tilted it over the cup.

I suddenly felt his finger touch between my eyebrows, rubbing the area lightly “don’t frown while you concentrate. While it’s cute, a celestial maiden would keep a serene and calm expression.”

“Got it!” Despite agreeing with him, I believe it would take a lot of effort to control my face. If it is for shingen, I should do my best.

“I believe that’s enough for today, you should try practicing in front of a mirror to help you know what expression you should make. Go rest now, otherwise my cousin will be looking for you.” Yoshimoto patted my shoulder, gracefully getting up to leave the room, as a way to give me privacy to change my clothes. I put the bottle of sake down on the table, feeling my muscles relax.

“Thank you for helping me with this, it means a lot to be able to do this for his birthday.” I showed my gratitude to him before he could slide the door open. Yoshimoto stopped for a few seconds before turning to me with a smile.

“If it’s for my cousin, I will gladly help. We will meet again tomorrow.” With that, Yoshimoto left the room. Despite the fact that he told me to rest for now, I kept practicing in that room for another hour or so. While it’s true that I am pushing my limits, I didn’t want to do a sloppy job while acting on his birthday. After I was tired to the point where my muscles were sore from forcing elegant movements, I decided to take a rest, for real this time.

It might not look like at first, but making graceful movements took a lot of effort, my arms hurted a bit. I took off the robe carefully and put my regular kimono back on, leaving the room with the robes carefully wrapped on my arms.

The room in question was in an inn we rented to use as a practice room. Every day we would meet here so that I could train my acting and perfect it. Shingen noticed I am going out frequently, so I had to use the excuse that I was going out to shop for his birthday party. I hope he doesn’t get too suspicious, though I think he knows something is going on.

Sasuke once mentioned that I give things away too easily through my expressions, which was something I was clueless to. Huh, perhaps I should work on that.

—————

The moment I stepped inside the castle, I noticed an abundance of people walking through the halls in a hurry, carrying what i would assume to be the decorations for the party. Wow, Yukimura and Kenshin really went all out on organizing the banquet, though i can only imagine the conflict those two must have had preparing everything together.

It was already close to dusk, the sky was tinged by a mix of purple and yellow. I should be getting back to the bedroom shingen and I share, otherwise he might get find my lateness strange. But before that…

The robe.

The seamstresses aren’t done finishing the robe, they only allowed me to borrow it for the practice. I should return it to them before I go back, i hugged the wrapped robe against my chest, trying to make it less noticeable as I made my way to return it. Even though the others wouldn’t find it suspicious, I wanted to keep the costume as secret as possible.

Once I had returned it, I was finally able to go rest in my bedroom. I let out a sigh of relief as I reached the door, I really miss the covers of the futon right now. As I slide the door open, two strong arms pull me inside, sliding the door shut once I was pulled flush into a sturdy chest.

I felt embarrassed by the little ‘yep!’ I let out, my arms instantly wrapping around the torso of the person who pulled me, since I knew exactly who it was.

“My goddess finally returns to my arms, illuminating my night with her glow.” That honeyed voice was enough to make me melt, I snuggled up at him while looking up.

“You shouldn’t surprise me like this, one of these days I might hit you.” Which could very well happen, what if it was a kidnapper? Or perhaps an intruder? I doubt i would actually hurt him, but i would prefer to avoid such a scenario.

His laugh filled the room, there was a twinkle of mischief in his gray eyes. I could visibly see his shoulders shaking a little. “I suppose I will deserve that. This lowly mortal accepts his goddess’ wrath.”

“You are being awfully theatrical today, did something get you in a good mood?” While it’s true that he is a flirt, he isn’t usually this… honeyed.

“On to me, aren’t you? I have heard from a certain someone that I might get a very special gift.” Oh. Oh no! How could he know? Did one of his ninjas investigate us and figured out what we were planning?

Before I could panic, I felt his warm hand over my cheek, his thumb caressing my skin. “Don’t worry, I don’t know much. I asked Yuki if there was something going on for you to be going out every day to the market. He ended up telling me that you must be preparing something for me.”

Of course it was Yukimura… though, I can’t blame him completely, he probably had to say something to shingen so that he wouldn’t investigate us, which would end up ruining the surprise.

Still, I will kick his knees for this.

“Well… that’s all you will be able to know for now. This is a surprise, you know?” I placed my hands over my hips, shooting a scolding gaze at him.

“Alright, very well. I will content myself with this little knowledge to keep my wife happy.” I smile at that, at least I know he wouldn’t want to ruin his surprise. “But-“

“W-woah!” I wrapped my arms around his neck on impulse as I felt him lifting my up in his strong arms, carrying me towards our futon.

“To distract myself from trying to find out this secret you are keeping, I will be demanding something else.” His face was close to mine, a sweet yet dark smile on his face.

I gulped lightly, knowing I wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Hopefully I will still be able to walk well tomorrow for practice.

—————

On the night of December 1st…

The day had started a bit hectic, everyone had to get up early to prepare the castle for the party. Shingen would be distracted with his work, he insisted that he shouldn’t neglect his duties just because it’s his birthday, specially not when the weather was getting terribly cold. He had his people to look after. Yukimura scolded him, saying he should get more rest during his birthday, but shingen gave him a simple answer.

‘I should prioritize the well-being of those under my protection, my birthday isn’t more important than the life of others’

While I did worry about shingen working to the point of exhaustion, I also understood that he couldn’t just take a break, even if it was for a day. Besides, I believe that both the banquet and my gift to him will be of great enjoyment. With shingen distracted with work, the others and I had time to set everything up for his birthday.

Currently, the others will drag shingen to the main hall so that he can enjoy the feast, talk with his old friends and drink. Meanwhile, I would be getting ready to act. Yoshimoto ordered two maids to help me into the finished costume, the table with sake and sweets was already prepared. All I had to do was wait for them to send shingen here for my part of the gift.

I just hope I can do everything perfectly.

Some time had passed, I was sitting perfectly straight with my hands over my legs. I knew it would take a while, but my knees are starting to ache from staying in this position. And I was getting hungry…

I wish I could have joined the banquet, but the idea was to keep me hidden until it was time for him to come. I heard my stomach grumbling at the thought of all the food that would be present at the party.

Maybe a little bite of the sweets wouldn’t hurt… I reached out to take a chestnut bun, biting a small piece of it. However, I was caught by surprise when the door suddenly opened as I was mid-biting into a sweet bun.

“Selena, i heard you were sick. Are you-!” When shingen fully opened the door and saw me, his eyes widened in surprise. I could feel his intense gaze all over me.

Oh no, I should have waited just a bit more! Is there any way to save this? I thought of something quickly and slowly pulled the bun away from my lips, smiling at shingen with a trained expression.

“My lord, you have finally arrived. I was eagerly waiting your arrival to wish you a happy birthday. I had to wait so much for you that I started to crave the buns.” I carefully set the bitten bun down, trying to keep my poise and posture. “I hope you will accept being served by me as a birthday gift.”

He stood there as I spoke, his gaze turning dark and intense with desire. Shingen made his way towards me, that charming smile finally appeared on his face. “A heavenly maiden comes to wish me a happy birthday? I must truly be blessed.”

He took a seat beside me, his arm wrapping around my waist to pull me closer to him. I had to hold back my desire to throw my arms around him, for the sake of the roleplay! Using the skills Yoshimoto taught me during our acting classes, I gracefully poured sake on a cup for him.

Every movement I made was carefully thought, I gently set the bottle down on the table. Looking up at him with a dazzling smile, I could see the corners of his ears turning red.

Shingen picked up the cup filled with sake and took a sip, letting out a satisfied hum as the sweet liquid ran through his tongue. “A drink poured to me by such a beautiful being tastes like heaven.” His gaze was glued to me, I could feel his hand on my waist slowly going down.

“Not so fast, my lord. You still didn’t let me serve you properly, I had so many sweets prepared for you.” I couldn’t let him rush this so soon, I gently pushed him away as a way to tease him a bit.

Those eyes were showing a hidden feral need, he was getting impatient with waiting. I knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle not touching me, but I had to play this role just a while longer.

“If this celestial maiden wants to serve me properly… allow me to finish eating the bun that you took a bite of.” I was surprised that he wanted that bun specifically, there were many others that were bigger and probably sweeter.

But I wouldn’t argue with his demand, I picked up the chestnut bun I had taken a bite of and offered to him. His lips opened wide to eat the sweet, his tongue sensually caressing my fingers in the process. Another deep hum of satisfaction could be heard. “This must be the sweetest bun I have ever had, perhaps because it was touched by your lips.” He pulled me close yet again, showing his impatience through his greedy touches. “It makes me wonder how sweet your lips must taste.”

At this point his lips were almost touching mine, a growing ache for his warmth couldn’t stay ignored any longer.

I need him.

“If my lord is so curious, you should try them.” That was all It took for us to fall on the floor together, our lips crashed against each other. My back was pressed against the floor while shingen hovered on top of me, his arms and knees keeping his body balanced. His tongue pushed past my lips, making me moan when I felt him exploring my mouth deeper.

My voice was muffled by his kisses, leaving me panting once our lips had to separate from each other. His face was still close, his cheeks flushed red from our kiss. “It feels sinful of me to want more, but I don’t think there is any coming back from this.”

The sweets and drink was soon forgotten, our passion taking place as far more important. His hands tugged at the collar of the costume, showing my collarbone. Those lips were back on my skin, I could feel his teeth gently biting my shoulder, leaving a love mark there. Shingen seemed satisfied with it, the color was very visible. He moved his kisses downwards, leaving a trail of marks until it reach the top of my chest. “It looks like your body is covered by petals.” His voice was sweet and low, enough to make me melt.

His hands open the robe more, revealing my breasts openly to the cold air of the room. “You are far too lovely, maiden. I must cover you in more petals of love.” He resumed his kisses, gently sucking on the skin of my breasts to leave more love bites. My voice, no longer muffled from his kisses, could be heard more clearly now. My fingers bury in his hair, pulling on it gently, I needed to have him closer to me.

His kisses suddenly stopped, making me look at him impatiently. His arms wrapped around my back, lifting me up gently. “I might be in need of your warmth, but I cannot take you on the floor. A goddess deserves only the best.” With his long strides, he moved us quickly to our bed. He carefully laid me down before going back to kissing me, his teeth gently tugging on my lower lip as he pulled back.

He fully took the robes I was wearing off, though his hands lingered on the wings of the costume. “We cannot have this here, otherwise you might fly away before I can properly love you.” He took the wings carefully, putting them away far from our bed. He took off his own clothes, letting them pool around him on the ground

His hands were all over my body, caressing me between my legs as he positioned himself on top of me. My arms pulled him closer so that I could kiss his neck, making him inhale sharply. He marked me so much around the neck and chest area, it’s only right I leave my own mark on him. And because I want him to enjoy himself too. “You are torturing me like this, Selena.” Oh, he was back to calling my name, I guess the acting didn’t last for long.

“You are doing- ahn! the same to me.” His fingers went deep inside me, making me throw my head back as I melted against him. With my neck exposed, he kissed my throat passionately, adding to the pleasure.

This was feeling so good yet it was so torturous to wait, but the torture didn’t last for too long. Perhaps he also became impatient, because he entered me fast. I gasped, feeling his hand stroking my breasts he filled me completely inside.

Our bodies were pressed together as one, his arms were holding me tightly as his hips moved. My lips crashed against his once again, giving myself completely to him. In the end I really just retuned to being myself, but it was fun roleplaying with him.

Shingen pulled away from the kiss, holding me so that our eyes met as we were getting close to melting into each other. “Even if you aren’t dressed as one, you will always be my goddess. Thank you for your gift to me, Selena.”

A smile rose on my lips, I held his face and gave him a deep kiss as we reached our high, our bodies relaxing after that intense activity. “Happy birthday, my love.”

That night didn’t end there, my gift to him lasted for quite a while. I am sure my gift to shingen made him very happy, I know I was happy as well at the end of it.

The end.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikesen shingen

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razorblade180 · 1 year ago

Note

Are there any OC ideas you have that didn't make the cut for any of the stories you've written or are planning to right? Like you want to write about the but due to the way the story's gone they just wouldn't fit.

There’s a lot actually and I’m glad someone asked. This will be long.

The scope of Rosebud got away from me really fast and then life happened. I still want to make a proper story. That’s why the one before it is called Rosebud Prep. This AU has the most cut stuff and spur of the moment additions. For example

I had an OC named Walter. He would’ve been the divorced kid of Neptune and Weiss; also he’s 14 and pretty strong due to both his parents having hereditary semblance. Essentially he still follows normal glyph rules, but when it comes to water and ice he doesn’t need Dust. I made a water bender.

Another OC in that au would be girl on Menagerie that was close with Kovu. She would be a Crosshares kid. Additionally, I wanted to write more about Carmine’s normal school experience since she does go to a regular public school but it never really seemed to fit. In a sense, she’s like a casual superhero who will show up late because she decided to stop a robbery.

Another thing I will actually circle back to but just haven’t yet is why is Carmine bad at school terrible with maps, doesn’t drive, and would rather tell Garnet a bedtime story than read one. Carmine is dyslexic and simply refuses to tell her friends because she finds it incredibly frustrating and embarrassing. Jaune knows and though she made him promise to tell nobody, he obviously told Ruby. Ruby doesn’t bring it up because she was the number one person Carmine didn’t want to know. Jaune helps her when he can but the girl is barely home and prioritizes other things.

I wanted to write a short story of Dustin growing up under Cinder and Neo but that seemed needlessly depressing and better left as moments to learn in the main story.

xxxxx

I think I’ve mentioned this before but originally I messed around with Valerie’s internal conflict stemming from the idea she wasn’t sure if she felt like a girl. But after a lot of reading and videos I decided I most likely wouldn’t be able to write such a topic with the necessary amount of care to the standard I would be okay with. It’s a touchy subject and I felt ill equipped.

Another idea I want to write is a Snowflakes sequel where the crew is on summer break and find themselves on a voyage to Vacou. It would explore the new dynamics the group have after Atlas and focus more on Veronica’s mental state and an b-plot with Eliza learning more about her mother.

xxxxx

For those interested in Lasting Embers, the sequel I’ve been actively posting lately has given two more OCs recently named Lilith and Marcus. Lilith was actually brought up in the original story and Marcus as an idea has been around just as long. Feels great to finally realize them.

I actually wanted to do more meaningful things with Yang and Adam during their mission but time constraints got in the way. Other than that I’ve mainly been able to set up a lot of what I want.

In the original story however, instead of Jael fighting those cult members in the desert, I had Adam come home already and the two of them went into town because she wanted to see the festival with him. Eventually she’d go off to get food and notice suspicious behavior; which leads into the cult fight and ends with her own the ropes before Adam shows up. It would be the first time she really sees how dangerous her father could be. I ultimately changed things because I wanted to introduce her older sister as well as keep the idea of Jael hearing/reading about who her father used to be but only seeing the kind dad he is now.

xxxxx

Premonition is more or less the same. I have an outline for a proper story that’s smaller scale than the others and more slice of life vibe. It’s mainly about Lucas and Serenity meeting and what happens when their unique situations of future and fate collide. I did want to do more random prompts but most of them are pretty redundant despite being cute.

I’m sure there’s more stuff I could add to this post but I’m blanking right now.

#rwby #rwby au #ask me stuff

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republicsecurity · 1 year ago

Text

At the Spa

The train came to a halt, and the paramedic cadets disembarked with practiced precision. Their armored boots clicked in unison on the platform as they began the four-kilometer march to the resort. The landscape around them was a mix of muted colors and rolling hills, a picturesque facade that hid the strict control and discipline embedded in their society.

Approaching the resort, a solitary tactical paramedic stood guard, his imposing figure clad in gleaming red armor. His helmet concealed his expression, but there was an undeniable air of authority about him. The gate creaked open, granting the cadets access to the elegant estate beyond.

As they entered the lobby, the atmosphere changed. The air was scented with a hint of lavender, and soft classical music played in the background, creating an illusion of tranquility. Marble floors reflected the warm glow of chandeliers overhead. The cadets, still in their armored suits, stood out starkly against the refined surroundings, a reminder of the regimented world they came from.

The androgynous receptionist, his slender figure impeccably clad in the white skant of the medical corps, greeted the cadets with a disarming smile. His eyes, bright and perceptive, sparkled with a hint of mischief as he observed the armored newcomers. "Ah, our esteemed paramedic cadets," he said, his voice melodic and smooth. "Such cutees you are, even beneath those helmets. I trust your journey was without complications?"

The cadets exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions hidden behind the opaque visors. Despite their confusion, they nodded in acknowledgment of the receptionist's greeting.

"Allow me to guide you to your chambers," the receptionist continued, gesturing for them to follow. His movements were graceful, almost balletic, as he led the way through the opulent corridors of Tranquil Haven.

The cadets remained silent, their armored footsteps echoing in the elegant halls. They couldn't help but feel a sense of unease beneath the receptionist's affable demeanor.

With a flourish of his slender hand, the androgynous receptionist indicated the alcoves in the room where the paramedic cadets could store their armored suits. His eyes, still twinkling with that peculiar mixture of warmth and mystery, lingered on them momentarily before he turned away to arrange the refreshments.

"As soon as you're ready, please proceed to the massage area," he said, his voice carrying a melodic cadence that seemed to linger in the air. "The therapists will be expecting you. Enjoy your session. And, of course, dinner awaits promptly at seven.

With an air of nonchalance that came from their training, the paramedic cadets began the process of undressing, each layer peeling away until all that remained was the glinting metal of their chastity cages. The receptionist observed their actions with a knowing smile, his eyes flickering over them appreciatively. To the cadets, it was just another day, another set of regulations adhered to without question.

"I'm a conscript too," the receptionist mentioned casually, his tone light as he continued to watch. "Assigned to the nursing corps. Your show... it's quite popular among us, you know."

He grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "And I must admit, I find you all rather cute."

The cadets exchanged glances, a blend of amusement and bemusement in their eyes. The situation was oddly surreal — standing half-naked in front of a fellow conscript, discussing their own popularity as if it was an everyday topic.

"Well, thank you," one of the cadets replied, the hint of a smile playing on their lips. "We do what we can to maintain our standards."

With graceful movements, the receptionist led the paramedic cadets down the ornate corridors of Tranquil Haven, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting beneath. The soft glow of ambient lighting highlighted the polished elegance of the surroundings, casting a serene atmosphere that seemed to envelop them.

"Right this way, sirs," the receptionist said, his voice a melodic echo in the hushed halls. He guided them to a set of intricately carved double doors that seemed to beckon with promises of relaxation and indulgence.

Upon entering, the cadets found themselves in a sanctuary of tranquility. The air was scented with a subtle blend of essential oils, and gentle melodies floated through the room, invoking a sense of serenity. The massage chambers were appointed with luxurious furnishings — plush massage tables adorned with soft linens, each surrounded by delicate curtains that promised a veil of privacy.

"Please make yourselves comfortable," the receptionist gestured towards the waiting robes, his tone warm and inviting. "Your therapists will be with you shortly“

The entrance of the massage therapists brought a subtle shift in the ambiance of the room. The cadets, lying on their respective massage tables, observed the arrival of the therapists. The therapists, clad in the distinctive tight yellow uniforms of the LifeGuards, exuded an air of quiet confidence and professionalism.

Their physiques were a testament to years of rigorous training — broad shoulders, chiseled arms, and an aura of undeniable strength. Despite their formidable presence, their eyes held a warmth that put the cadets at ease. Their proximity in age to the cadets made the interaction feel less like a formal procedure and more like an exchange between peers, even if their roles were distinctly different.

The therapists, their faces adorned with polite smiles, introduced themselves with a subtle yet confident air. Their 5-digit alphanumeric designators marked them as individuals, but here, in the serene sanctuary of the massage chambers, they were simply skilled practitioners ready to offer respite to the weary paramedic cadets.

"Good evening, cadets," one of them said, their voice carrying the calm assurance of someone well-versed in their craft. "I am R1V3R, and my colleague here is S0L4R. We are members of the LifeGuard Corps, trained specifically as Massage Therapists. It is our pleasure to assist you in finding relaxation and ease."

"It's truly a pleasure to work with bodies as well-maintained as yours," R1V3R said, his hands expertly kneading the muscles. "Unlike some of the clients we get, your physique allows for a deeper, more effective massage experience."

S0L4R, his movements equally precise, chimed in with a nod. "Indeed, the elasticity of well-toned muscles allows us to access tension points more effectively. It's a joy to work with clients who appreciate the benefits of physical fitness."

In the dim, tranquil light of the massage chambers, the exchange of energies between therapist and cadet became a silent language. It spoke of trust and understanding, transcending the boundaries of alphanumeric designators and formalities.

"In this segment," R1V3R explained, his tone gentle yet clinical, "we focus on the body's energy flow, seeking balance and harmony. It's a holistic approach that not only relaxes the physical form but also revitalizes the mind and spirit."

S0L4R added, his voice warm and reassuring, "Tantric massage is about connection, about understanding the body's subtle cues and responses. It requires trust between the client and the therapist. We're here to guide you through this experience, ensuring your comfort and well-being throughout."

S0L4R „I will now massage your prostate“, he started slowly to inch foward with a gloved finger of his strong and, slowly getting deeper and deeper into the anus.

In the dimly lit chamber of the spa, the atmosphere had shifted, becoming almost ethereal. The LifeGuard therapists, their tight yellow uniforms now taking on an otherworldly glow, continued their meticulous massage, their movements guided by an almost ritualistic precision.

As R1V3R and S0L4R worked with an air of serene detachment, their skilled hands traversed the cadets' bodies with an unspoken understanding. They explored the contours of muscles and the flow of energy with a reverence that bordered on the spiritual.

And then, as if transitioning into a secret rite, their touch delved deeper, moving beyond the ordinary bounds of therapeutic massage.

The cadets, their bodies responding to the therapists' guidance, experienced an intricate dance of sensations. It was as if the therapists were orchestrating a symphony of pressure and rhythm, a delicate balance of force and nuance.

R1V3R's fingers, with practiced finesse, traced the path to a specific point, the prostate, an area both intimate and enigmatic. It was a moment of subtle revelation, a convergence of trust, expertise, and vulnerability.

As the cadets lay in a surreal state between relaxation and heightened awareness, R1V3R's touch became an exploration of boundaries. He applied alternating pressure, the cadence of his movements akin to a secret language understood only by those who had ventured into this realm.

S0L4R, by his side, mirrored the intricate dance, their synchronized actions creating an experience that transcended the physical. The room itself seemed to hold its breath, cocooned in the delicate exchange of energy between therapist and client.

In the exquisite dance of touch and energy, the therapists applied their craft with utmost precision. The pressure applied on the prostate and the surrounding areas was not merely physical but transcended into a realm of profound understanding. The cadets, though initially taken aback, found themselves surrendering to the expertise and trustworthiness of R1V3R and S0L4R.

As R1V3R's fingertips traced the contours of the prostate, a subtle shift occurred. The pressure, expertly modulated, led to a unique sensation. It was not the familiar surge of pleasure but a nuanced, elongated experience. The therapists' mastery allowed them to navigate the delicate balance, reducing pressure in the seminal vesicles and the prostate.

This careful manipulation created a peculiar effect, akin to an ejaculation without the accompanying orgasm. It was a sensory paradox, an intensity without release, a moment suspended in time. The cadets, now fully immersed in this unorthodox experience, felt a profound sense of delayed climax, a tantalizing postponement of the inevitable.

In the hands of the therapists, the cadets experienced a state of heightened arousal without culmination, a tantalizing journey toward pleasure without the traditional destination. The room, once filled with the hushed whispers of energy and touch, became a sanctuary of exploration, free from the constraints of ordinary physicality.

As the massage continued, the cadets surrendered to the unspoken understanding between them and the therapists. It was a moment of transcendence, where the boundaries between self and other blurred, and the ordinary limitations of the body seemed to fade away.

In the aftermath of the extraordinary massage, the cadets found themselves enveloped in a state of profound relaxation. The room, once vibrant with energy and touch, now seemed to cradle them in a cocoon of serenity. The therapists, having guided them through an unparalleled sensory experience, allowed the cadets to bask in the aftermath of their ministrations.

Their breathing, once synchronized with the rhythmic movements of the massage, gradually slowed, becoming a harmonious melody in the tranquil atmosphere.

In this profound state of relaxation, the cadets drifted into a deep and restful sleep, their dreams carrying them further into the enigmatic realms of sensation. The therapists, having witnessed the cadets' serene surrender, left the room silently, allowing them to embrace the tranquility of their dreams.

The melodious resonance of the singing bowl reverberated through the room, gently rousing the cadets from their deep slumber.

"Rise and shine, cadets," the receptionist said with a warm smile, the melodic tones of his voice resonating with the lingering echoes of the singing bowl. "I see you had a rejuvenating rest. Your presence is requested for the formal dinner; it begins in an hour. Please, take your time to freshen up and prepare for the evening."

The room buzzed with the rhythmic hum of preparation. Water splashed, the sharp scent of strong shaving cream hung in the air.

"Shiny boots for a shiny evening, eh?" grinned DY784, polishing his black boots with a practiced hand. The reflection of his shaved head mirrored back at him from the glossy surface. He had already polished his chrome dome.

HU55Y, meticulously ironing his bellhop jacket, chuckled. "Got to impress."

With swift, efficient movements, they slipped into their white undersuit, the fabric molding to their bodies like a second skin. They zipper closed the one piece undergarment that flattened their abdomen and shaped their body into a elegeant V shape. The white elbow-length gloves followed, accentuating the lines of their arms.

With their elbow-length gloves now in place, they gathered around the mirror to apply subtle makeup, enhancing their features with practiced ease. It was a skill they had honed at the academy, and it allowed them to present an image of immaculate perfection, concealing any blemishes or signs of fatigue.

The red bellhop uniforms clung to their bodies, outlining the disciplined contours of their physiques. The snug fit accentuated their toned muscles, a testament to the rigorous training and conditioning they underwent daily. The fabric, though snug, allowed for ease of movement, tailored perfectly to their forms.

As they stood in the dim light of the corridor, the red uniforms seemed to radiate a subtle aura of authority.

The disciplined lines of their posture added an air of confidence, an unspoken declaration of their readiness for any challenge that might come their way. Their steps were purposeful, echoing with the cadence of discipline as they made their way to the formal dinner.

They still had not processed the events of the massage.

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misirosekisiro · 2 years ago

Text

The Silent Killer 5

Chapter 5

A serene morning dawns, bathed in golden sunshine streaming through the partially opened curtains. Birdsong drifts lazily through the open window, melding seamlessly with the rustle of leaves outside. Within the tranquility of this unassuming neighborhood, danger quietly lurks nearby.

Jason awakens early, stretching languidly. Groggy memories resurface of last night’s intimacies, causing his cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

He glances at Dylan, whose composure appears undisturbed despite having slept soundly through their late-night exchange. How much did Dylan really hear during their conversation? Did he acknowledge his fears about potential involvement in those ghastly incidents? Would their relationship survive such accusations? Questions whirl like hurricanes in his mind, threatening to consume him.

The house creaks softly, settling itself into the lazy morning routine. Sunlight trickles through cracks in the wooden shutters, illuminating dust particles suspended mid-air. 

Drifting on the breeze, laughter erupts from children at play outside. Yet behind closed doors, darkness prevails within the confines of this seemingly idyllic home.  

Jason emerges from the bathroom, dressed casually in loose denim shorts and a worn tank top. His tousled hair frames his pale complexion, giving off an air of innocence which contrasts starkly with his troubled expressions.

Dylan lies motionless in bed, lost in thought.

Recollections of his past flitter through his mind, casting shadows on the present moment. Unconsciously, his fingers caress the scar on his left cheek, the memory of a childhood accident revisited once more.

Once in a while, he will recall about his past, his real past. A first time that he move to other skin. That feeling never fade form his memory. How enjoy, excite, like have a best sex. His heart beat faster. Gaze at Jason. How i feel when i live in his skin? His cock rock hard just when he imagine about that.

Soon his erection starts growing, showing strong desire, throbbing insistently, yearning for satisfaction. Dylan rolls slowly onto his side, letting out a deep, audible sigh. Glancing over at Jason, a longing expression flashes briefly across his face, quickly masked by a neutral smile. “Breakfast?” he inquires, breaking the silence.

Jason jumps slightly, surprised by the sudden change in topic.

"Oh yes, breakfast sounds great!" Dylan smirks, rising gracefully from the bed. Both of them share a knowing glance, recognizing the importance of maintaining a normal appearance amidst these peculiar circumstances.

Dylan heads towards the kitchen area, navigating expertly through the clutter. Meanwhile, Jason retrieves clean dishes from the cupboard, attempting to make their small space appear organized. Engrossed in the task, they continue discussing inconsequential matters - recipes, weather forecasts, and recent events in town.

Their voices intertwined, creating a harmonious symphony punctuated occasionally by moments of awkward silence. Despite these attempts at levity, an undertone of unease hangs heavy in the air, palpable to both participants.

A week pass aways, since Dylan come to live with Jason. During this time he study his prey 

closer, learning his habits, his routines, making mental notes. In his head, planning meticulous strategies for his killing sprees.

Dylan had noticed that Jason often went running along the riverbanks in the mornings. It struck him as odd that nobody else appeared to frequent that route—a perfect opportunity for isolation and privacy. He planned to ambush Jason there, take control of his life completely.

This was going to be his greatest triumph yet — another victim added to his collection, bringing him closer to achieving ultimate power.

In the meantime, Jason prepared dinner for the two of them. He felt guilty, however, for involving Dylan in his daily routine, potentially putting him in grave danger. Nonetheless, Jason believed strongly in their connection and felt compelled to carry on as usual, hoping for the best outcome possible.

Recently Jason notice that Dylan gaze to him more often

then usually. Those look filled with some kind of curiosity, desire, excitement and mixed feelings. They send chills down his spine, leaving him wondering what exactly is happening inside Dylan's head. Are those looks merely an indication of admiration or does it conceal deeper desires that Jason cannot fathom?

A day pass, Dylan decide that he ready to replace Jason. He know that Jason feel something not right recently but it's too late for him. Dylan grin.

Smile, broad and confident. Today would be the day he finally claimed victory. The plan had consumed his every waking hour; nothing could stand in his way now. Even as doubt began to stir within him, he silenced the whispers, reminding himself of his singular objective. This was no game; lives hung precariously in the balance. 

He wait until Jason do his routine went running along the riverbanks. He wait then stalk Jason quietly.

Slipping into the bushes near the riverside path where he knows Jason would soon approach. Each step carefully placed among the dry leaves, each breath drawn shallow to avoid detection. Closer, closer he moves toward his quarry. Every nerve alert, adrenaline coursing through his veins as anticipation mounts. Finally, he sees Jason approaching. The moment he had been waiting for has arrived.

The birds cease their melodies, replaced instead by the pounding rhythm of his own pulse, thundering furiously against his eardrums.

Adrenaline surged through his veins, a potent elixir fueling his determination.

As Dylan drew closer, Jason continued oblivious to the threat looming overhead. His pace remained steady, unwavering in the midst of imminent peril. He sensed something amiss, though his instincts failed to identify the precise nature of the danger lingering in the vicinity.

Stealthily, Dylan creeps closer, calculating distances, angles, trajectory of flight.

Time slows almost imperceptibly as he draws nearer, the world reduced to a single point of focus: his prize. Suddenly, as if propelled by a hidden force, Dylan leaps into action, closing the gap separating them swiftly and effortlessly. Jason, caught entirely off-guard, can only watch helplessly as his fate plays out before him. 

Dylan lunges towards Jason with superhuman speed, pinning him against the tree trunk with surprising strength.

Panicked, Jason struggles to break free from his assailant's grip, adrenaline racing through his veins. Sweat drips down his brow, mixing with cold terror etched upon his features. The eerie calmness of the surroundings only heightened the intensity of the situation, amplifying every heartbeat reverberating through his body.

An ominous silence envelops the woodland glade as Jason tries fruitlessly to escape his captor.

Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead, adding an additional layer of perspiration to his already frazzled state. With each passing second, panic intensifies, constricting his throat and sending waves of apprehension crashing through his core. "Why?" he utters weakly, pleading for understanding or reason behind this violent assault. However, his question goes unanswered, echoing back into the surrounding foliage with a disconcerting resonance.

Dylan studies Jason closely, taking note of his every twitch and tremble.

His grip tightens around Jason's slender neck, leaving no room for escape. A predatory grin spreads across his lips, signaling a mix of pleasure and anticipation. Silence fills the space between them, the stillness accentuated by the subtle rustlings of nearby wildlife. Time seems to crawl forward at a snail's pace, dragging each fleeting moment further into the abyss of uncertainty.

Jason gasps for air, struggling to stay conscious under the weight of Dylan's relentless hold. But only get harder press grip around his neck.

Tighten till barely able breathe. Jason try fight against him, push him away. Dylan smile wider. More pleased than ever. Like watching how he manipulate him, take total control of his destiny. No matter how much Jason resist, Dylan's superior strength proves undeniably overwhelming.

Desire consumes Dylan, engulfing him whole. All thoughts of the past dissipate in the heat of the moment, swept aside by the urgency of claiming his prize. His hands grip tight and tigher on his trophie of victory. 

Jason's body shake for a last time. as last breath was sip aways.

Jason struggle ceased, giving up hope as darkness descended upon him. Dylan watched intently, marveling at the sheer power he held over another human being. Life slipped away so easily, yet it required such careful precision to exact revenge upon the living. And there was no greater rush than witnessing someone's final moments unfold at your hand. The sweet taste of vengeance danced seductively on his tongue, teasing his senses with the promise of absolute domination.

As the light drained from Jason's limbs, a cruel sense of accomplishment swelled within Dylan. He knew that with each soul he claimed, he gained more power, solidifying his position as the most feared entity within this sleepy little town. His heart raced as he contemplated his next move, eager to strike once more, ensuring his reign as the unseen predator forever entrenched in local mythology.

Emboldened by his latest success, Dylan took solace in the knowledge that his presence would leave a permanent mark on everyone who crossed paths with him.

He stood tall above the lifeless form of Jason, feeling empowered by the magnitude of his actions. The screams of fear that had once plagued him were long gone, replaced by the serene certainty that came with mastering his inner demons. He had conquered the very essence of chaos, allowing him to see through the masks worn by society's weaker members.

Wandering aimlessly around town after disposing of Jason's corpse, Dylan couldn't help but wonder which unsuspecting individual would become his next plaything.

Unlike the other towns, people here didn't seem to pay any attention to their neighbors. Perfect for hiding in plain sight – he thought to himself with a malicious smirk.

After all, who would suspect a quiet, introverted neighbor like Jason? He not even have closest friends to suspected anything unusual about him. 

With Jason dead, Dylan decided to assume his identity fully. He entered Jason's apartment, methodically changing clothes, cutting his hair to match Jason's style, and even adjusting his posture to mirror Jason's mannerisms.

"Who am I today?" he whispered softly to himself, savoring the idea of becoming someone else. He found great satisfaction in deceiving others, playing games with their minds. It made him feel powerful, invincible - a god among mortals.

Over the following weeks, Dylan became increasingly comfortable in his new role as Jason. He started attending social gatherings, joining clubs, and getting involved in various organizations that Jason used to participate in.

Over time, Dylan got better at impersonating Jason's persona, honing his skills in mimicking behaviors and speech patterns.

He slowly ingratiated himself with different groups of individuals, finding comfort in the anonymity provided by adopting someone else's life. People saw a familiar face, trusted it implicitly due to the shared history they believed existed between themselves and 'Jason'.

Little did they realize, however, that the smiling, friendly man greeting them each morning was merely a clever facade orchestrated by the malevolent figure known as 'the Killer.' Unknowingly drawn into his web of deceit, these innocents fell victim to the cunning mastermind who played upon their naivety and desire for camaraderie. In doing so, New Jason managed to maintain his guise perfectly, expertly concealing the true extent of his intentions beneath layers of charm and benevolence.

It wasn't hard for him, having spent years perfecting the art of deception and manipulation. To the rest of the townspeople, New Jason appeared nothing short of the epitome of normalcy—a dutiful citizen with a passion for charitable work and genuine concern for those less fortunate. Little did they know, this façade served a far deeper purpose than mere appearances alone.

Underneath the surface of his pristine image lay the mind of a psychopath, driven by the need to hunt and consume lives for sustenance.

Jason feel so comfort in this skin. He found to be an artist is quite fit him. He paint his lust, excitment, hunger to the canvas. They sell quickly at galleries around town. Everyone admired them, praised his unique talent. Even some high profile clients order custom pieces.

New Jason had come to appreciate the simple beauty inherent in the town's tranquility. After all, what could possibly go wrong when surrounded by such idyllic scenery? Its inhabitants seemed content, going about their daily routines without ever suspecting the horrors that lie beneath the surface.

For months, New Jason thrived in his newfound existence, reveling in the opportunities presented by his anonymity. He continued to excel in his chosen profession, earning respect and admiration from colleagues and customers alike. However, as time went on, something began to shift inside him. Deep within his soul, a fierce yearning grew stronger with each passing day.

A voice echoed within his head, tempting him with images of bloodied knuckles clutching fragile necks, whispering of power beyond measure. The pull toward destruction became impossible to ignore.

His gaze drifted casually toward a passerby, calculating the potential outcome of his voracious desires. Despite his outward appearance of amiability, deep within lies a ferociously hungry monster aching for release.

He know it's like a loop, that he can't even exit. The time that this life is can't contain himself anymore. They seeking for new one, new hunt. 

"Time for move, i guess" 

Jason say while packing his things, preparing to leave the town. He doesn't want to stay here longer, afraid he might lose his nerve, unable to continue playing his part. This place brought him too many memories of old times. Times when he was not like this. Not a predator, nor a serial killer. Just a regular man trying to make ends meet. Those days felt like a lifetime ago. Now, he's consumed by the need to devour everything in his path.

The decision to relocate comes naturally to Jason.

Having established his reputation locally, it's easier to fade back into obscurity elsewhere. Before leaving, though, he must attend to several remaining matters—such as closing accounts and settling debts. While dealing with these administrative tasks, he finds himself constantly glancing outside, where sunlight casts elongated shadows across the street. His eye lingers on the motionless silhouettes, almost as if daring them to stand up and confront him.

Once everything's been taken care of, Jason loads his belongings into a van parked discreetly behind his building.

Closing the door, he starts the engine and eases the vehicle onto the bustling roadway. With his heart racing, he anticipates the adventure awaiting him at his destination, which even he don't know where it will be. He just drive town by town, and keep looking. He not rush anyways

This journey will take as much time as needed, until he find the right place, the perfect stage for his grand return. The right spot where his predatory instincts would finally be set free.

The world seems smaller, closer now as he drives further away from home. There's a new excitement brewing within him, an awakening force urging him forward. He knows that somewhere out there, waiting patiently, lies a fresh pool of potential victims ripe for the taking.

#identity theft #steal clothes #stolen identity #clothes stolen #gay

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explorationpark · 16 days ago

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Exploration Park

Exploration Park in Katy, TX: A Thrilling Adventure for All Ages

Nestled in the charming city of Katy, Texas, Exploration Park is an exciting destination for families, nature lovers, and outdoor enthusiasts alike. A one-of-a-kind park offering a blend of adventure, education, and outdoor fun, it is quickly becoming one of the most beloved recreational spots in the region. Whether you're a local resident or a visitor passing through, Exploration Park provides the perfect setting for exploration, learning, and play.

A Brief Overview of Exploration Park

Located in the heart of Katy, Exploration Park is part of the larger Katy Prairie area, which is renowned for its scenic beauty and natural wildlife. The park is specifically designed to cater to a diverse range of interests, blending recreational activities with educational experiences. From its innovative playgrounds to its serene walking trails, the park offers something for everyone, regardless of age.

The park is also home to a variety of nature-based programs and events, making it an essential spot for locals to learn about conservation, environmental sustainability, and wildlife. With its well-maintained facilities, expansive green spaces, and engaging activities, Exploration Park stands out as a hub for outdoor adventures in Katy.

A Playground for Young Explorers

One of the major draws of Exploration Park is its innovative playground designed to ignite the imaginations of young children. Unlike traditional playgrounds, this one encourages kids to climb, explore, and interact with various creative structures. From towering playhouses to slides that wind through tunnels, the playground is more like a mini-adventure course where kids can challenge their physical abilities while having fun.

The equipment is designed with both safety and engagement in mind. Each feature is crafted to allow children to develop motor skills, social interactions, and problem-solving abilities in a stimulating environment. The park also includes interactive educational panels that teach children about science, nature, and local wildlife, making the playground not only a place for fun but also a space for learning.

Walking Trails and Natural Beauty

For those who prefer to explore at a slower pace, Exploration Park boasts a collection of scenic walking trails that wind through its lush landscapes. These trails are designed for all skill levels, offering both short loops for casual walks and longer paths for more dedicated hikes. The natural beauty of the park is abundant, with towering trees, native plants, and seasonal wildflowers that change with the seasons, creating a constantly evolving backdrop for visitors.

As you stroll through the park, you'll be treated to views of the Katy Prairie, home to a variety of wildlife including birds, squirrels, and occasional deer. Birdwatchers will especially appreciate the chance to spot local species such as herons, egrets, and hawks. These trails are an ideal space for those looking to escape the urban hustle and immerse themselves in nature.

Interactive Learning and Educational Opportunities

Exploration Park isn't just about outdoor fun—it's also a hub for education. The park offers various educational exhibits and interactive programs designed to teach visitors about environmental conservation, local wildlife, and the history of the Katy area. These experiences are designed for both children and adults, making it a perfect place for families, schools, and community groups to come together and learn.

The park features nature-themed play areas and learning stations that offer children hands-on experiences with science and the environment. These stations help foster a deeper understanding of ecosystems, wildlife habitats, and environmental stewardship. Visitors can also participate in seasonal programs, such as nature walks led by local experts, which delve into topics like plant identification, animal tracking, and ecological conservation.

Picnic Areas and Social Spaces

For those looking to relax and enjoy a meal surrounded by nature, Exploration Park offers several picnic areas equipped with tables and benches. These areas are strategically placed near scenic spots, providing a peaceful setting for families and friends to gather, share a meal, or simply enjoy the outdoors.

The pavilions within the park are perfect for hosting small social gatherings, birthday parties, or community events. These covered structures allow guests to stay cool in the shade while enjoying a barbecue or picnic. The spacious grassy areas surrounding these pavilions also provide ample room for outdoor games, sports, or just lounging under the Texas sun.

A Focus on Sustainability and Conservation

Exploration Park is deeply committed to environmental sustainability and conservation. The park incorporates eco-friendly features, such as rainwater harvesting systems, solar-powered lighting, and native plant landscaping, to reduce its environmental impact. These green initiatives are part of a larger effort to educate visitors about sustainable practices and the importance of preserving natural resources.

Through partnerships with local environmental organizations, Exploration Park hosts programs aimed at promoting sustainability, including workshops on recycling, composting, and energy conservation. These educational programs help foster a sense of responsibility for the environment among Katy residents and visitors.

Events and Community Engagement

Throughout the year, Exploration Park serves as a venue for various community events, making it a focal point for local culture and social engagement. From seasonal festivals to outdoor concerts, the park offers numerous opportunities for residents to come together, celebrate, and enjoy the outdoors.

One of the most popular annual events is the Katy Nature Festival, which features outdoor activities such as nature hikes, environmental workshops, and hands-on craft stations for children. This event not only brings the community together but also encourages awareness of local wildlife and environmental conservation.

Additionally, the park is home to regular fitness classes, family movie nights, and farmers’ markets, where local vendors sell fresh produce and handmade goods. These events add to the park's reputation as a community gathering space that fosters connections and promotes a healthy lifestyle.

A Hub for Fitness and Outdoor Activities

Exploration Park caters to fitness enthusiasts with its outdoor fitness equipment and sports areas. Whether you're looking for a place to stretch, run, or practice yoga, the park provides a variety of spaces to support a healthy, active lifestyle. The park also has areas designated for sports such as soccer and frisbee, making it a popular choice for recreational leagues and casual games.

For those who prefer cycling, the park’s wide, paved paths are perfect for leisurely bike rides. These paths connect various areas of the park, allowing cyclists to take in the scenery while enjoying a smooth ride.

Why Visit Exploration Park?

There are many reasons to visit Exploration Park in Katy, TX. Whether you're a local resident or just passing through, the park offers an enriching experience that blends nature, recreation, education, and community engagement. From the thrilling playgrounds and scenic walking trails to the educational exhibits and commitment to sustainability, this park has something to offer everyone.

The park's emphasis on nature, learning, and outdoor fun makes it a perfect destination for families, fitness enthusiasts, and anyone looking to connect with the outdoors. Exploration Park is not just a place to visit—it’s a place to explore, learn, and grow, all while enjoying the beauty of Katy, Texas.

Conclusion

Exploration Park in Katy, TX is an exceptional community space that brings together nature, adventure, education, and recreation. Whether you’re looking to explore the scenic walking trails, learn about local wildlife, or enjoy a fun family outing, this park has something for everyone. Its unique combination of outdoor play, educational opportunities, and environmental initiatives makes it an invaluable resource for the Katy community.

For residents and visitors alike, Exploration Park is more than just a place—it’s an experience that encourages people of all ages to explore, learn, and connect with the natural world.

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15020 Cinco Park Rd, Katy, TX 77450, United States

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