#box office clash

[playermagic23]

Sonu Sood reveals Chiranjeevi’s reaction to Fateh trailer ahead of its clash with Ram Charan’s Game Changer: “He said, ‘I would love to promote this film’”

As the new year kicks off in 2025, a major box office clash looms with Sonu Sood’s Fateh and Ram Charan’s Game Changer releasing on the same day, January 10. While some might view this as a competition, Sonu Sood remains unfazed and optimistic, stating that good films always find their audience.

Sonu Sood reveals Chiranjeevi’s reaction to Fateh trailer ahead of its clash with Ram Charan’s Game Changer: “He said, ‘I would love to promote this film’”

Chiranjeevi Extends Support to Fateh

In an exclusive chat with News18 Showsha, Sonu Sood shared a memorable encounter with veteran actor Chiranjeevi, who expressed enthusiasm for Fateh. “I recently met Chiranjeevi sir at the airport lounge in Bangalore. When he saw the trailer of Fateh and the rushes, he said that it’s something he has never seen before!” Sonu recalled.

According to Sonu, Chiranjeevi went a step further, offering his support despite Game Changer featuring his son, Ram Charan. “(Chiranjeevi) said, ‘I would love to promote this film. Tell me when we can do it.’ He wanted to do something very big for Fateh. And this is what cinema is all about. It’s about loving each other. I wish them all the best. May Game Changer be a game-changer for them,” he added.

The Philosophy Behind the Clash

Sonu Sood remains positive about the clash, noting that the box office has room for multiple successes. “Good films will always do well. There are hundreds of examples where two or three films have released on the same day and they’ve all done well,” he said.

While acknowledging the buzz surrounding other films like Allu Arjun’s Pushpa 2: The Rule, Sonu stressed the importance of focusing on storytelling. “More than Pushpa 2 raising the bar for all of us, it has reiterated the importance of putting in effort and doing one’s job sincerely,” he stated. “Tomorrow, you shouldn’t be looking back and regretting the things that you could’ve done but didn’t.”

Fateh: A Labour of Love

Fateh marks Sonu Sood’s debut as a writer, director, and producer, a journey that took three years to come to fruition. Reflecting on his decision to step behind the camera, Sonu shared, “All these years, I’ve been fortunate enough to work with different directors and actors – across many languages – who taught me the ropes of the craft. When I thought that I was equipped enough to make my own film, I dived into it.”

He added, “I didn’t want to become a filmmaker when I came to Mumbai, but I wanted to showcase myself in a particular way. I always felt I could do better. So, I thought, why not write and direct my own film?”

Game Changer: A Star-Studded Rival

On the other hand, Game Changer features Ram Charan and Kiara Advani, directed by Shankar and produced by Dil Raju. The film has generated significant anticipation and is poised to draw massive crowds.

[theomenmedia]

Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3 And Singham Again Score Big On Its First Monday

Diwali at the Box Office: 'Singham Again' packs a punch, but 'Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3' casts a spell! Dive into the ultimate Bollywood clash. Who took home the crown?

Read the full article here: https://www.theomenmedia.com/post/diwali-blockbuster-bonanza-singham-again-dominates-bhool-bhulaiyaa-3-in-epic-box-office-showdow

[cinearticles]

After Salaar vs. Dunki, Now It's Time for Animal vs. Dunki

Fans are eagerly awaiting the release of two highly anticipated Bollywood films, Animal and Dunki. The excitement for these films has been building for months, and the recent announcements of their trailer release dates have only added to the buzz. Dunki Drop 2 Teaser to Release on November 22 The second teaser for Shah Rukh Khan’s Dunki is set to release on November 22. The first teaser…

[hollywoodoutbreak]

The 1981 action fantasy film Clash of the Titans holds a special place in the hearts of many movie fans. A box office hit upon its release, it later achieved cult classic status, celebrated for its stop-motion effects and nostalgic charm.

Decades later, in 2010, a remake starring Sam Worthington and a stellar ensemble cast also proved to be a massive box office success, grossing over $430 million. Even now, over a decade later, the film continues to find new audiences.

Before the film's release, Worthington spoke about the delicate balance of honoring the original while creating a unique experience for a new generation. He aimed to create a film that stood on its own while acknowledging the original.

Clash of the Titans is available on DVD, Blu-ray, digital platforms, and streaming on Max.

[daily-quiz-join]

Stree 2 teaser OUT | श्रद्धा कपूरऔर राजकुमार राव की फिल्म का टीजर रिलीज, हॉरर-कॉमेडी के साथ वापस लौट रही जोड़ी

श्रद्धा कपूर, राजकुमार राव और पंकज त्रिपाठी अभिनीत स्त्री 2 के निर्माताओं ने आखिरकार हॉरर-कॉमेडी का बहुप्रतीक्षित टीज़र जारी कर दिया है। मैडॉक फिल्म्स ने सोशल मीडिया हैंडल पर सभी मुख्य कलाकारों को दिखाते हुए एक छोटा सा टीज़र साझा किया और लिखा, ”इस बार चंदेरी में आज़ादी के दिन होंगे आतंक! लीजेंड इस स्वतंत्रता दिवस, 15 अगस्त 2024 को वापस आ रहे हैं!” पोस्ट में मैडॉक फिल्म्स ने एक हैशटैग भी इस्तेमाल…

[shaktiknowledgeblog]

Biggest Clash on Box-office | aamir khan | Gadar 2 | Gadar | Ameesha Patel | Anil Sharma | sunny deol

Sunny Deol’s film came in front of ‘Lagaan’, Aamir Khan also got sweaty and won Biggest Clash on Box-office: The year 2001 proved to be very important for Bollywood. This year two big films were released simultaneously. On one side was Aamir Khan’s ‘Lagaan’ and on the other side was Sunny Deol’s ‘Gadar: Ek Prem Katha’. The films ‘Lagaan’ and ‘Gadar’ were released together in the year…

[dearlyya]

TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN | Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Series Summary; Silco tells a new story to a curious Jinx.

Warnings; Angst, pre-canon, hurt/comfort, Zaunites, Piltians, revolution, violence, blood, gore, drinking, smoking, gambling, swearing, sex, brothels, drugs, slow burn, the reader is a coward at first, original character (Wynn), strangers to lovers, bittersweet, Old Silco being weirdly sentimental, Jinx being noisy, and major character death.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

Silco's office door closes when Sevika takes her leave, his dual eyes stare indifferently into the wooden entrance.

Briefly resting his face on his hand so he can rub at his cheek bone. He flickers his irritation to the paper in front of him, reading through the documents neatly arranged on his desk. Flipping through it–His lengthy fingers daintaly holding up each page before letting them fall back in place.

Through habit he moves his chair to the left of the desk, opening up the middle drawer, taking out a small compact box, shutting the thing closed and placing the wooden box on the side of the desk, aiming to not dirty the papers. He opens the humidor, four expensive cigars lay neatly inside. Taking one of the sticks and the straight cutters, he fixes the cigar between his fingers and brings the sheers to the front and slides the stick in between the blades, and shuts the guillotine. 

SNAP!

He rolls back and turns the chair to face the large window, so that the green light that pours into the room which not only illuminates the furniture, but the kingpin as well–highlighting his features. His good eye blends with the light, the seafoam green melting away a stark contrast from the damaged one. The green clashes against the bright angry orange, the toxic waters of the Undercity fully displayed on the left of his face, the hard horrors of his youth.

Finally, he slips his hand into his vest. His delicate fingers glided over the finely knitted fabric of his striped burgundy shirt before delving into the soft contours of the breast pocket. With a practiced motion, his digits deftly retrieve a small, rectangular item. Something cold to the touch against his fingertips, the metal texture bumpy and slightly damaged. 

It's a lighter. Gray and metallic with a fancy lace eloping it–vines and roses, perfectly crafted to be comfortable to hold while simultaneously being bold and beautiful even with scratches and dents along the body. Silco caressed the carvings with the pad of his thumb. Specifically a scratchy name on the front of it. Until he was holding it properly, he extended it enough to flick the small thing open and ignite it.

The flame dances dimly, alone. Slico rolls the cigar in his fingers and hovers it over the fire, lighting the end of it. Flicking the lighter closed, he takes a long drag of the cigar. Savoring the smoke he inhales, holding the earthy smoke in his mouth. Not letting it fester for too long he puffs it out. 

Above him is an audible creaking followed by a loud thunk behind him, just then he felt his eye send a sharp pain throughout his face. He takes another drag, hoping that it eases his nerves. It does not. Huffing it out he turns the chair to face the girl sitting impatiently on his desk. Strews of papers now scattered about. Screw organization.

"You have impeccable timing," Jinx smiles and tilts her head side to side while lazily whipping the end of one of her braids of hair in a swirling motion. Jinx then scoots forward. The papers crumpled under her butt make the scooting easier, some falling off the edge. She places her feet in between Silcos spread legs, planting them firmly in place and with most of her leg strength she easily moves the chair with the bemused kingpin closer to the desk. The chair creaked as she did so. Jinx blows a raspberry and guiltily giggles. 

"Pfft- yeah just the best of timing, heh" She snatches the device out of the top drawer. Moving her legs she turns the chair to the right to pull him even closer, the armrest bumps roughly into the desk. Jinx plops her legs on top of his kicking her feet under the other armrest. The kingpin throughout this doesn't seem bothered, used to his daughter's theatrics. 

"You mustn't spy on me when I'm in a meeting" Silco narrows his eye at her, no actual malice in his expression. He positions the cigar away, so she doesn't smell it when he gently places it in the ashtray, not snubbing it out.

"Wasn't spying — just watching Ms. Righty" Jinx chuckles at her own morbid nickname, and drapes her forearm on Silcos head, as she leans on the chair. The device occasionally tapped against his temple. The blue-haired girl whines about being bored and how Sevika won't let her on jobs. Calling his right-hand an ogre that isn't cool or fun–but is, however, currently green as Jinx had shot her with paintballs. The reason why Sevika was fuming in his office not too long ago. Silco listens, nodding his head along to her rambles in a tired fatherly way. In his right hand he fidgets with the lighter. The glint reflecting off the window light brings the small thing to Jinx's attention. Abruptly stopping in the middle of her rant, watercolor eyes flickering at the silver most importantly at the poorly written name on the front of it.

"Watch'ya got there?" She hitches her leg up on the arm of the chair and rests her tilting head on her knee, unblinking eyes stare at the item in his hand. Silco unclenches the lighter and grips it with his fingers slowly handing it to the curious baby blue. She quickly picks the thing out of his grasp after dropping the device on the table with a low clank. She brings the lighter closer to her face, so she can fix on the smudged words, muttering under her breath "is that a 'a' or an 'b' or maybe a-?" she would've gone through the entire alphabet if Silco had not said her name to pull her out of her thoughts.

"What does this say, can you tell me?" Frantic, she moves the light far away from her face, dramatically turning her head to the patient kingpin, his hands hanging loosely between his thighs humming in a low tune, debating on entertaining her offbeat curiosity.

"Aww' c'mon I'm dying of boredom here!" Jinx flails around her spot before falling onto her back with her arms spread out on the desk, her head is to the left looking at the metal rectangle with a pout. Twirling it with her pink and blue nails. Silco sighs, looking at his suddenly sad daughter–he knows she's just playing him, he caves anyways. Not without teaching about bartering, when a certain stinging sensation occurs. The nerves of his left eye spread out to his scarred side, eating away at him.

"Administer my medicine, then I'll think about it" Jinx pouts, but hands him the lighter anyway. Grabbing the device that was left on the table. "Finnee-" Grumbling, she moves forward so she's close to his face and places the contraption over his eye. She waits, eyes flickering from the button on top to his bad eye. When her gaze finally looks at the good eye, she presses the button. Instantly, he shoots forward, straining in his seat as Jinx still holds onto his jaw. He tightens his grip on the light. The dose of shimmer elopes his eye–the red widening before shrinking back to an orange. The purple substance fighting away at the toxins left behind, a single shimmer tear runs down his scarred cheek. 

"Done! Now, tell me!" Jinx haphazardly drops the medical device on the desk, again. Pulling up her legs on the arm, so she can rest her head on knees, and dig her colorful nails into her muted maroon pants. She puts most of her body weight on the side of the chair, making it dip only slightly. Waiting for her father to catch his breath and follow up on his end of the bargain. Slicking his salt and pepper hair back, he leans into the chair. Adjusting his sitting and wiping away the tear before answering her.

"It reads Lady." 

"Why does it say that and why do you have something that says that and why is it so badly written?-" He sighs, still rubbing at the now disappeared shimmer. Jinx's questioning doesn't throw him off, his eyes narrow in amusement. "Will it ease your curious need about my youth if I told you it was from an old friend?" Jinx gives him a weird look.

"I thought you said we shouldn't hold onto the past and blah blah blah" Jinx begins to flap her hand in a talking motion. He grabs her wrist, making her look him in the eye. His face was serious.

"We shouldn't hold onto the past and let it consume us." He says sternly, letting her go when she begrudgingly nods. Jinx notices a fondness lit in his eye, as he then gestures to the lighter in his hand. The flame, as quickly as it appeared, dims away.

"That is more or less something nostalgic, a keepsake out of appreciation" Jinx looks at him then the lighter, then back at him. "For who?" Jinx asks. Silco smirks.

"An old friend"

"UGHHH" She dramatically flops down again, crossing her arms. Jinx begins to spin Silco, moving her legs accordingly, in an attempt at a punishment for making vague remarks. Silco lets her for only a moment, stopping her when he's fully faced in front of her by taking the leg off the armrest and letting it drop to the floor next to the other. Silco hums in thought.

"It was...from a past love of mine" From her sitting position, Jinx snaps her head up. Her attention gained back. She's not perturbed by this new information, her curiosity only grows. "Hehehe, you fancied someone?" She giggles, hunching over. Her hands either side of her thighs gripping the edge of the desk and kicking her hanging feet.

"Mhm, I did..." As memories of the past flood his mind, he forcefully wrestles himself from saying ‘I do’ . The past should linger in the past, and in the palm of his hand like a burdensome weight. Despite this, his thumb still circles around the lighter. In response, Jinx visibly slouched, her frown growing more pronounced.

"What happened?" Jinx knows now that this friend is no longer here, someone who was once close to her father–she began thinking. Her gaze flicks restless between Silco’s eyes, her hands fidgeting as they cling together. Her thumb incessantly rubs against her palm, creating a raw spot on her skin. Sensing the tension, Silco quietly places his hand on her knee, tenderly tracing comforting lines with his fingertips to ease her away from the rhythmic rubbing and her own reminiscing. 

He knows Jinx would ask non-stop about this subject, as if she were still the 12 year old that he took in years ago. Even if he did indulge Jinx in her possible endless quest of nagging him til’ he complies. He would have no idea where to begin, he’s sure that his late-companion would tell it differently, albeit dramatically. Jinx has learned through his lectures of betrayal, perhaps one on loyalty might have the same effect. 

"What happened to most Zaunites during the revolutionary years-" Silco lifts his head smoothly, his gaze hardening with growing anger. Behind the pride he feels for his expanding nation, he holds a knife to the throat of the ‘Nation of Progress’ Silco’s thoughts travel back to his last moment with her, realizing the irony that lies within the nickname of Piltover. With a cool deliberateness, Sico carefully considers his next words as he looks at his daughter. Who is seated with uncharacteristic patience. 

The cigar in the tray burns, forgotten. "-Perishing with no name under the cold gold-plated boot of Piltover"

[fictionalmenxyn]

🝊𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫🝊

Pairing: cop!rafe x reader

Warnings: language and suggestive

🝊🝊🝊

You were on your way home, yes, you may have been going a few numbers over the limit. It was a 55 and you were going 60, not too bad. But you saw the famous red and blue lights flash along with the ‘woop woop’ of the sirens.

You mentally smacked yourself, also rolling your eyes at the slight fact the cop was being over dramatic. You indicated and pulled over.

You roll down your window, reaching over into the glove box grabbing your license and registration. You put them in your lap as you waited for the officer to walk over.

You see the figure, through the side mirror walking over. You double check over the things in your lap. The officer spoke “hey sweetheart”

You head whipped to the side to look out the window. Seeing Rafe “Rafe?! The fuck are you doing pulling me over??” He grinned. His thumbs tucked into his tactical vest “someone was goin’ over the limit, baby.” You roll your eyes “you do the exact same and you’re a cop” he chuckled “I know, I just saw your plate and wanted to see you, while I’m on shift.” You nodded “touché… so officer? Any big things happen today??”

He leans down so he can talk to you better “hmm not much, few speeding, one dui… you know, the usual…” you nod. “And do officers take a kiss as an apology for going over five above the limit?” He smirked “hmm for now, yeah, officer Cameron would take that as a temporary apology…” you rolled your eyes. You lean out of the window and give him a peck. “Not good enough, sweet girl.” “What?!” “You heard…” “babe…” Rafe grinned “not babe, its officer, right now”

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “Alright, officer…” you give him and another kiss. This time a proper and longer one. He pulled away “thank you” he stood straight again. He glanced to the road then to you. His thumbs still tucked into the armpit of the tactical vest. “You’re lucky you’re cute, I’m lettin’ ya off this time, no ticket for you pretty girl…” you look up at him. “Bullshit, you just don’t wanna do the paperwork.” You grin as he chuckles and shake his head “I like your logic, babe…” you smile “thank you…”

“That doesn’t mean you’re getting away with it when I get home…” “gonna need to teach you a lesson on how you shouldn’t sass the officer…I saw the eye rolls, can’t hide it from me, sweetheart” you blush slightly. “You can’t hide that blushin’ either…”

A voice over the radio speaks, Rafe looks back to you. Quickly leaning down and pressing two quick kisses to your soft lips. “Gotta go, see you later, I love you” you smiled “I love you too, go get those bad guys.” You smirk as he playfully rolled his eyes.

As he walks away, he calls out “don’t forget I’m not done with you, baby!” You chuckle as you start your car up again.

You watch as he drives off, sirens and lights beaming. He speeds off, going to god knows what incident. You smile, you loved seeing him all geared up and in uniform. It did things to you, especially when he wore it while getting you ready for some fun. Or when he lets you wear his training clothes. Like his ‘OBX PD’ training tee. Or the sweatpants, he liked you lost in the shorts though.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home to you. If it wasn’t illegal to actually speed. You’d do it more just for him to pull you over. The half-assed stern look he’d give you for going over just a little bit. Or when the one time you did a quick break at an empty junction. You only did a quick stop at the ‘stop’ sign because no one was there. So you didn’t think you needed to stop and wait a few seconds. He taught you a good lesson on that one…

You were already in bed, wearing only his PD tee when he got home. Dropping his bags to the floor and taking off his heavy tactical vest. Kicking his boots off as he crawled into bed and on top of you.

He kissed you like he hasn’t seen you in weeks. Your tongues clashing. He moves down your jaw and marks up your neck. Then he moves up your neck and to your ear. He whispers “I still haven’t taught you a lesson about speeding have I?” You gasp as his knee goes between your legs. He smirked “words” “no, officer…” he smirked “you look so good in my tee baby..” he smashes his lips against yours.

And the night was only just beginning…

🝊🝊🝊

[gyllenhaalstories]

BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

[ichore]

STUDY OF A SCANDAL | NEUVILLETTE

synopsis: a starving journalist, the iudex of fontaine and reader, the most talented soprano of teyvat all attend a ball at the opera epiclese where one scandal follows another as a storm does not allow anyone to leave.

tags, warnings: heavy drugs (aphrodisiac, ecstasy), involuntary drug consumption, neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a talented singer, reader is secretly a water creature as old as Neuvi, MONSTER FUCKING, Neuvillette's takes reader in semi dragon form, journalist is a pos, cunnilingus, p -> v, unprotected, oh the consequences

wc: est 3.3k

It begins with a tear rolling down on the porcelain skin of the Iudex of Fontaine's full cheek.

As you stand tall all alone on the platform of the Opera Epiclese, not a shred of whisper or mumble leaves the people of the water nation - it's only your voice that vibrates in between their bodies, it crawls at the high walls and crimson drapes and threatens to never leave. You've sung these songs many times across all of Teyvat; you're considered an Honored Guest wherever you decided to set foot. But your heart belongs to Fontaine, and such is evident in the way your gaze lingers on its people ahead of you.

Then, as if it's supposed to be part of your show, as the last note of your last song bubbles in your throat, a clash of thunders shakes the building.

The Melusines are quick on their short legs to inform everyone to stay inside, and whereas there's no need to worry, it would be best if everyone waited in the Opera Epiclese until the storm ended. Curses and hisses rumble across the people meanwhile the Iudex of Fontaine leaves his seat and his noiseless steps carry him to his office. It's only you who notices how his shoulders rise and fall in the familiar motion of weeping, how his cloth napkin soaks in the tears that escape him despite his greatest effort to soothe himself. 

“If it's fine with everyone,” you begin with your voice exhausted and slightly croak from your show. “I have enough cakes and fruits to invite everyone for a spontaneous little ball to spend the time. I'm sure my colleagues would love to entertain you with their music, as well.”

The storm is almost like a gift to you: finally you don't have to worry about wasting all the precious food that people gift you. Usually you give the majority away for the poor, but because finding such families takes time, a good amount still spoils. Such kindness in your heart is the second reason Teyvat adores you, and that same tenderness makes you rush after the Iudex with your dress held a bit higher in your fists so you don't trip.

“Excuse me?” you hear a nervous male voice call out to you, and you reluctantly stop in your tracks to offer a smile to the journalist standing ahead of you. He's skinny, too skinny to be healthy, you think. His hair crown is already fading from the top of his head, the lilac bruise of exhaustion rests under his eyes, but you suppose that he cannot be more than thirty.

“I'm happy to give you an interview later. I'm rather busy with something right now, I hope you don't mind.” you say.

“No, not at all. I just wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a heart-shaped, crimson silk wrapped box from under his arm. Chocolate, more food, great. “I know what you're thinking, but this is the Iudex's favorite and the filling is the finest Valberry jam from Mondstadt. It's very hard to get a box of these nowadays.”

“Oh, my,” you fill your heart sink at the thought of the trouble this poor man went through just to please you, and the furrow of your brow lets him know that you're sold before you take away the box. “I can't thank you enough. Is it okay with you if I share it with the Iudex? You mentioned it's also his favorite.”

“Well, yes, of course. Please enjoy. But I suppose you're in a hurry, so I shall leave you to it.” he bows as he takes your free, white silk cloaked hand and presses your knuckles against his chapped lips. “It was a pleasure meeting you. You're just as beautiful and kind as the rumors say so.”

“Thank you, once again.” you bob a quick curtsy to him before leaving him behind. He watches the white, lacy patterns on the bottom of your turquoise dress wash against the floor as you continue your hurried steps to one Melusine to another to find Monsieur Neuvillette. A smirk deepens at the side of his mouth as he watches you open the box and eat the first piece of chocolate while you wait to be let into his office, and he's already thinking about just how many good pictures he's going to take of you and the Iudex.

A shiver runs across your spine, gooseflesh blooms on your skin when you finally stand ahead of Neuvillette. He's facing his high windows, taking in the view of the year's most brutal storm: trees are bending and breaking, the wind carries away the flowers of the streets and he notices some personal possessions fly across the asphalt. As the Iudex, he's already thinking about how to fix this mess. But as Neuvillette, he can't stop his body from shaking.

“Apologies for leaving without a word. Your show was most exquisite … it touched my soul in ways I cannot find the words to describe.” The tremble in his voice is enough for you to understand the waves of emotions that wash through him.

“Don't worry, Monsieur. Knowing my music has these effects on such a great man like yourself is a compliment on its own. I will remember it for the rest of my life with pride.” Despite him having his back facing you, you can see on the reflection of the window that his usually bright gaze is darker and they're fixated on your form. You offer a slight curtsy, and you swear it's only a long second that you close your eyes for, yet when you lift your chin, he's standing closer to you with his face ahead of yours. He's so close, you can smell the lavender oil the Melusines treat his luscious hair with and the sea salt that they use to wash his clothes.

“And proud is what you should be,” he begins. “It's been a long time since I've felt such an emotional turmoil. Yet, I don't think the language you sing in is familiar to me.”

“It's a dead language,” you nod. Your fingers begin to play with the material of your dress at your sides. “My mother taught it to me when I was little. I know phrases and words, but I can't tell you where the language is from or who used it.”

“No one else speaks this language, yet you manage to touch all of Teyvat with it. You're a real talent, and it's been my pleasure to have you visit our nation.” 

“Oh, it's been a pleasure more of mine, really.” You flash your pearly white teeth at him in a smile, and you swear that at the same second, from his window, you can see the storm lose its vigor and turn into a windless pour of rain. “I just wanted to check upon you, and share this box of chocolate with you at the same time if it's fine with you. A kind gentleman gave this to me saying that this is your favorite.”

“Strange, I can't recall ever seeing, let alone tasting such a dessert from Mondstadt.” He hums against the side of his index finger while musing. In the back of your mind, you already know that someone would lie about such a thing, but a strange, hurricane-like sensation washes across you as you stare at the man towering right ahead of you. The distinct color of his eyes, the ivory color of his healthy locks, the perfect pale skin are all calling to you for a touch, and you press your thighs together as your liquid desire begins to swell in between your folds. “How was it?”

“I'm sorry, what was the question?” you shake your head and laugh a little to be able to tear your stare away from him. The heat is already rising to your head, painting your cheeks rosy with a deep blush.

“I can see you already ate one. Was it to your liking?” the vibrations of his voice are more apparent, you realize, and it pains you that you can't swallow them in a kiss right now.

“Yes, Monsieur. I think it's quite nice. Has a little bit of a strange aftertaste, but otherwise it's delicious. The Valberry jam filling is extraordinary. ”

“Please, call me Neuvillette,” he returns your smile as he takes one of heart shaped chocolates into his mouth before he motions towards the couch, insisting that you sit down while he places the box on his table. “It's delicious indeed. I suppose I can trust your judgment when it comes to sweets in the future.”

“Thank you, Neuvillette.” You whisper. Sweat already begins to pearl at your hairline and on your nape by the time he takes off his cloak and his weight sinks into the couch so painfully close to you, you can feel his thigh brush against yours through your dress. 

“If it isn't too much to ask,” he begins. “Can you tell me what the story is behind your last song?”

“Well… it's a love story. A tragic one.” his colors appear brighter and clearer with each passing second, his icy appearance calling to you for a release from this burning that consumes you within. You can't look him in the eyes anymore, you realize while watching your fingers get lost in the vibrant color of your skirt. “It's about two lovers who were washed apart by the Archons and the primordial sea, never to see each other again, forced to spend their entire lives yearning for the other. But one day, they meet, but one doesn't remember the other anymore.”

“Sounds Fontanian,” Neuvillette muses as he loosens the knot on his scarf, revealing his swan-like neck to you. “Apologies, it's awfully hot in here today.”

“No worries,” you offer a smile, but the first sweat drop already begins to roll down on your temple and in your thoughts, you're mumbling thousands of curses at how tight your corset is. Yet, you do not find yourself wishing for air, but yearning to steal it from Neuvillette’s lungs. “My mother was from Fontaine, so it does make sense that the language originated from somewhere here.”

“Makes it even stranger that I can't recall hearing it before, however - ” 

“Neuvillette …I,” you cut into his words, hesitating to continue your words, but you're certain that you're edging closer and closer to fainting if you don't get some air soon. “It's very unethical of me to ask you, but would you be so kind as to loosen my corset for me a little?”

“Of course,” and the moment you touch his reached out hand to help you stand up, you wish you could tell him that it doesn't matter anymore and that you just need to go outside. But the rain is still pouring and the haze on your mind refuses to leave. The touch of his fingers are ever so delicate and delicious as they open the back of your dress to get to your corset. Your neck tilts and a sigh leaves your lips as the pressure on your ribs eases, and in your moment of relief, you don't notice Neuvillette's halt in his movements.

The sight of the crook of your neck invites him in for a kiss as his arms circle around your waist under your dress - at first, his touches are unsure, but as a satisfied hum leaves you, his arms tighten around you and his kisses travel from your neck to your jaw. Your eyelashes flutter when your gaze meets his, as if to give him permission to his begging eyes, that yes, he can very much kiss you. His lips feel like the sweetest sea foam: so delightful and gentle, and you can finally feel your lungs be filled with his being. You push your dress down, making it pool around your feet while Neuvillette's hands brush up on your belly to reach the front of your corset before pushing it off you and letting it fall on the dress. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, and you feel his cock twitch against your ass as he begins to fondle your breasts. He swallows every whimper that escapes your lips when he takes each of your nipples in between his fingers, playing a rough game with them. “I adore your voice, the noises you make. The thought of making you sing in pleasure for me is driving me mad. Please, let me make you mine.”

“I'm yours, all yours,” you're ready to beg for more, but as if he can read your thoughts, he lays you across the couch before he frees you of your panties, panty hoes and shoes. For a brief second, you can hear a clicking sound from the distance, but the desire entirely engulf you both that you don't notice the barely open entrance door and the journalist with his camera. If this all wasn't for him being able to put bread on his table, he would've admitted that there is something magical about the way Neuvillette's tongue finds all the right spots in your cunt. It really does make a sensational picture: the Iudex of Fontaine devouring Teyvat's most famous soprano like his life depends on it.

But for Neuvillette, that feeling is as real as your hands holding onto his ivory hair. For a while, he wondered what got into him, but his words to you were true and the sounds that escape you makes him throw away every logical reasoning as to why he shouldn't suck on your clit or push his tongue so deep into you that it makes you cry out. 

“Right there, hng, please -” his eyes that were fixated on you the whole time now roll back as he feels the gush of your ecstasy pour into his mouth. He can't help, but get rid of his own clothes in fast but drunken movements, and he's ready to get back on top of you before something feral awakens in him. It's the glowing of his irises that you notice first between your thighs, then you swear that you can see his tongue stretch and part into two at its tip while his suddenly longer nails rake across your sides. This time, he's eating at you with primal hunger while one of his grip finds his growing cock and strokes it in the same fast rhythm his tongue dances inside you. You scream, you squirm, but it only makes him become all the more fast and rough as his upper lip rubs against your clit.

“What the fuck,” the journalist mumbles under his breath, his eyes widening in terror as Neuvillette's lower body grows navy blue scales, a forked tail emerges from the end of his spine and his dick is becoming dark and enormous enough that seemingly only the tip would be enough to fill you up. With shaky hands, he takes a picture.

“So it is you, hng, fuck-” you try to tell Neuvillette as another, but more powerful climax numbs your mind. Your heart flutters at the man standing ahead of you, and your love is the only thing that helps you think straight. “I've been looking for you my whole life, Hydro Dragon, my love.” 

“You're not terrified…” Neuvillette notes, his chest sinking with a sigh of relief before he questions what you said to him. It's an animalistic instinct that makes him kneel between your legs, rubbing his entire length across your folds to coat it in the mixture of his spit and your sticky juices. A whimper leaves your lips each time his thick head threatens to push into your entrance. “You're not human either, are you?”

“No,” you say simply as green scales begin to form on your thighs where Neuvillette is stroking you before they disappear again. Fighting your lavender haze of lingering orgasm, you sit up to take his tip in your palm to rub it for him as you continue. “I'm a siren. So don't worry, I can take this.”

“The song…” his brows furrow as you position his cock against your pussy, and begin to push yourself against it. It's painfully slow: he can feel every crook and cany of your insides, the blood in your veins welcoming him, the very wetness and warmth of you swallowing him so eagerly until his balls meet your ass. He shudders.

“It's about us, my love. You forgot about me.” You moan as you feel your insides adjust to his size. No matter how many human lovers you took over the millennium, no one and nothing ever compares to Neuvillette.

“Forgive me,” his lizard-like tongue dances along with yours as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up into the air. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms hold him in a sweaty embrace as he begins to slowly pull you up and down on the length of his cock. “Forgive me.”

“It was never your fault, hng, please go faster.” you beg of him as you look down at the sight of the two of you. His legs are of a dragon, his black claws digging at the wooden floor to hold himself in place as he begins to pick up the pace.

“I remember this,” he whispers as he loses himself in the feeling of you wraps around his entire being: your sound, your smell, your eyes. He remembers it all now, and his thrusts become rougher as if he feels angry at all the years you didn't spend together. Not only did they take you from him, they didn't even leave the memory of you. Tears begin to pour from his eyes as he kisses you again, his arms tighten around you and his thrusts become sloppy, but the clenching of your orgasm pushes him over his own pinnacle and he paints your walls white with his seed.

“Don't cry, my love,” you stroke his hair while his tears fall on your collarbone after he gently places you on the couch and he lays on top of you, his body slowly transforming back to human. “We found each other, that's all that matters.”

“What about you? Your loneliness? Your fright?” his voice shakes, and you can hear another powerful wind jerk at the buildings outside.

“I've always known we'd find our way back to each other. When I was lonely, I always recalled nights like this or when you were crying because of a song about a fish family when my parents invited you over to their coral palace. I've always remembered the kindness of your heart, and I carried it with me as my companion.” you comfort him and a smile tugs at your lips as the gray clouds begin to part on the sky, and the sunlight seeps through. You think about asking Neuvillette if he wants to check on the guests, but you find him with his eyes closed and deep in a slumber.

As you are trapped beneath him and you can't hear music anymore, you suppose that everyone else already left and you can also rest.

Until you hear the click sound of a camera.

“Needless to say, you're fired,” the Chief Editor of Steambird doesn't even bother to open the envelope that contains the erotic pictures of Neuvillette and you before she tears it into shreds. “Drugging the Iudex AND a Teyvat famous star? What were you even thinking? Hell, I even doubt you were thinking at all.”

“But…” the journalist begins, but the Editor holds up her hand to halt his words.

“You're to leave this company effective immediately. And if I were you, I'd be crawling on my knees to Monsieur Neuvillette for an apology and a huge thank you for not having you executed for treason.”

And with two boxes of worthless papers and without a penny in his pocket, the only mortal who knows your love story and your true being becomes your enemy.

[alistairsmonstercafe]

NSFW How to Gain the trust of a Dragon in the Dragons Den, Guide 02

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART ?

NOTICE; TOP/SWITCH Male Hybrid Reader

CHARACTER; BOTTOM/SUB Price, BOTTOM/SWITCH Soap,

CW; Threesome, slight choking? Hella horny dragon, body worship, praise, face sitting, fingering, ass eating, cock suckin' shit like that.

ADDITIONAL; I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION; @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr & @/thegnomelord for the scale idea on tumblr.

NOTE; Accidentally posted the draft... | This will be a mini series staring our favorite little hybrids. Part ? Will be a poll of a repeat character or a non 141 character.

As Price paced outside the office, the temptation to peek behind that imposing door grew stronger. His hybrid instincts nudged him toward curiosity, but his rationality warned against it. He wasn't your mate. Not Soap's either. He'd be a prick if he suddenly barged in purely because he was a horny dragon, he hasn't felt the urge for a proper mate for years, but it was uncommon for species to crossbreed, or to even have packs, or other mates then one that weren't of the same species.

Yet, there was something magnetic about the possibility—a pull he couldn't quite resist. The thought flickered in his mind like a distant flame, leaving him torn between his innate curiosity and the risk.

And despite the gentle reach of his claw near the door, he didn't. He was old. Older then most of you, who would dare date a dragon of his age? Even people of his kind preferred dragons who could keep up with them, not groan at a sudden back pain or a weak knee. Nor the crowfeet on his eyes, signs of age in his face. His body was not as strong as in his younger days, and well, his stomach. It had a lot more pudge to it, something he'd never openly admit.

The following day, despite his position as captain, Price found himself stealing more glances at you and Soap, your little cuddles during lunch, or the way your tails intertwined. The soft cooing and purrs left to each other left him with want, tugging at the fringes of his thoughts. He couldn't shake off the inexplicable allure it held, even though he knew his authority wouldn't grant him it.

As he maneuvered through his duties, his mind kept circling back to you. He questioned his own reluctance to simply talk to you, push the conversation open. It wasn't about rules or permissions; it was a deeper, primal restraint holding him back, a fear of the unknown that clashed with his innate curiosity.

Yet, when he came back to his desk later that evening, he saw a small pile of, to what to most, would seem as mindless trinkets, was actually an abundance of jewels, some of his favorite coffee, tea, and a make shift.. Scale? No. That wouldn't make sense. He could recognize it as yours and Soap's fur. In the shape of a scale.

Were you lads trying to court him? A deep rumble erupted from his chest as he gently held up the item to his nose, his wings relaxing at the mixed scent. The scent of a mate, his instincts whispered. And he couldn't help but agree.

Tucking away the items he placed them in a small box on his shelf full of items he hoarded before. He couldn't have a huge hoard, so he did what he could. And turned the scale shaped fur, into a necklace he could wear on his chest. Closest to his heart. For he knew they had won it already.

It was the next day where you and Soap were idly chatting, he sat down infront of you, and slid over a scale cut perfectly down the middle for you two. You both easily looked up in shock, mouths open. "Wha- Cap'n- Does this mean-" Soap sputtered, and you were still quiet with your jaw still wide open.

"It does. Means it quite bloody clearly, Soap." He replies almost shyly, his firm voice is softened with love and affection as he smiles. Those beautiful crow lines appear once more and the sight of both of your tails swaying happily is a tell-tale sign hes done the right choice.

He's quick to get back up, walking to the door before stopping and turning back to say; "My room, at nine exactly. Alright?"

You're both quick to say yes and despite his cool demeanor as he leaves, Price feels hard as a rock as the first blooms of heat start back in his stomach. A feeling he hasn't felt in ages, but that can wait for later tonight. He wouldn't be a captain without all that self-discipline, after all.

So its when Price comes to the dark of his room, a little worn out, he surprised to suddenly see a nest, and you and Soap sitting on his bed with only the moon light to illuminate your features. And coo he does because he melts at the sight that you both waited for him.

You're the first to pull him in with a grin, your tail wrapping around his waist as you and Soap are quick to strip him down until hes left in a shirt and boxers. But hes quick to push you down onto your back in the nest as he sits on your lap, Soap he behind Price, kissing down his back as his tail wags.

But as you look up at Price, he looks like a beauty, and your hand gently traces down from his chin, to his toned yet supple and beautifuy scared chest, to his stomach, caressing the pudge as you whisper praise. And it. Makes Prices face burn with pride at the fact someone accepts him and his appearance, something he didn't think he'd be self conscious on.

Soap continues quick and sloppy kisses up his back, leaving soft nips and bites on him, leaving it mostly betweem you and Price. He loves both of you but you had both discussed the idea before. You wanted to pamper Price, and make him feel higher then cloud 9.

And you did, each kiss, and bite, began to switch as Price was switched around by Soap. And you easily pulled Price's hips towards you and kissed his ass, making Price groan in response. The sound cut short as Soap began to kiss him, stroking your cock in the meantime to keep you satisfied as well. It was his turn to assist.

"Fuck- Price- So fuckin' pretty for us." Soap groans out to price, and you can only agree, pressing kisses up his neck as his tail makes soft noises against the nest as it wags aggressively against it.

Price only moans a little, his hips still bucking into your mouth as your tongue is quick, and perfectly long enough to reach deep into him inside, his dragoh tail is quick to curl around your neck and slightly squeeze lovingly. The way you and Soap praise Price and his body makes him melt. Hes an old lad, scales of iron from how the world has hardened him and yet you make him so soft.

So loved.

So accepted.

He thought he was content with 141 but knowing that two of the members in it are his mates? He can only purr.

Its when Soap slides down and suck off Price whilst hes still sitting on your face does he lose it. Not knowing where to buck his hips either back and forth, and instead sways them. His claws tugging at Soaps hair and your hands wrapped tightly on his hips, bits of blood is evident from your claws but neither notice.

Its when you suddenly slide in a finger that Price goes almost limp, his tail squeezes a little tighter and his moans get louder. Damn the thin walls because tonight he knows hes going to be fucked well in his nest.

And in his eyes thats a night well spent.

Aftermath; By morning Gaz is the first of the 141 to complain. Small eyebags under his eyes as he stares at you, Soap, and Price.

"Fucked real good huh? Give me some earplugs next time alright?" He remarks, drinking some coffee, Ghost watches but said nothing. But theres something about the way his smoke slides up his arm at the words 'fucked', before sliding back down, gives you slight curiosity.

[theomenmedia]

It's Wicked Vs Gladiator II This Thanksgiving Weekend - Who Will Win?

This Thanksgiving, it's not just about the turkey! "Gladiator II" vs. "Wicked" - Who will win the box office battle?

Read the full story here: https://www.theomenmedia.com/post/will-ridley-scott-s-gladiator-ii-outshine-wicked-at-the-box-office-this-thanksgiving

[cosmicstarlatte]

Your blog and headcanons are living in my brain since i got here, and i just want to say, thank you, i love your work 💕 also, i saw this in other posts (i was in the monster fucker side and end up in the lover side, but im not complaining) about demon relantionship dynamics and i have a question, who of the demons do you think would use an accesory made of something of MC?

TW: blood and hair being used as accesory, demon dynamic being a little disturbing.

Like imagine if with magic MC (safelly) could make jewells with their blood, or in a more victorian way, maybe a bracelet with a lock of their hair. In my mind there would be Satan and Barbatos who have the jewellry always on them but are discret, and then there is Mammon and Asmo who show whatever MC gave them with pride.

Thank you so much anon!!!♡ It's messages like these that keep me motivated, I'm honored!!! 🥰 I hope you don't mind I changed it to just items with blood 😎 I was gonna keep this short originally but ended up getting carried away. This was seriously SO fun to write! I rly think they all would!

Giving Them An Item With Your Blood (Obey Me!)

Tags: Blood, Fluff, Demon Bros, Barb, Dia, GN!Reader, HCs

Lucifer: "Hm? It's from ___."

If someone happens to catch a rare glance at it & are curious enough to ask, he has no problem proudly answering he got the bloody vial necklace from you. He's not shy or ashamed about it, but prefers to keep it between you & him. It usually stays well hidden behind his high collared shirts. Sometimes when he's at home in his office & shirt unbuttoned, he will fidget around with it while doing paperwork. He loves it but won't ever tell you or anyone else how very attached to it he is. ♡

Mammon: "This one!? Not up for betting, scram!"

When isn't Mammon flashy??? The day you gave him the ring filled with some of your blood was basically the day you got married (in his mind) & he went around showing everyone. Of course some of his buddies asked if he'd bet it for a chance at clearing his debt but even that's one bet Mammon refused. He has a ritual of kissing his ring everyday, he thinks of it as his good luck charm even when he's actually having a bad day. He makes you kiss it to add extra luck (love) to it too. ♡

Levi: "I will guard this with my life."

Let's be honest, he doesn't care what it is & would wear/take whatever you give him. Your hairbrush? He will cuddle it.

When you presented him a blood vial bracelet, he got all teary eyed & nearly fainted from excitement. It easily became his most prized possession, he takes such good care of it. He wears it openly & you can see him fidget around with it when he gets anxious. Sometimes he will lightly rub or hold it against his cheek, calming him down when he's overwhelmed. ♡

Satan: "That's what you get for touching things that aren't yours."

His smile was radiant, blinding. Satan's gift is unique just like him & he appreciates the thoughtfulness of a handmade blood infused bookmark. It's one he takes care of & makes sure it doesn't get lost in the mess of his room. He did curse it (you'll get a hand burn) so no one else can touch it except you & him. From time to time he gets distracted by it when reading. He wants to ask if you'll attach a blood charm to the end of it too. ♡

Asmo: "My outfit isn't complete until I put this on!"

He squealed, cried, & wouldn't let you go for the entire day after gifting him the little box of jewelry. He went on to rub it in everyone's faces & showed it off on all his socials. The main gift was a gorgeous charm, the blood swirled, glittering inside. You made sure he could pop the charm into the ring, necklace, or bracelet you also gave him in the box. He was impressed you went to such lengths just so he could always choose how to wear it each day. Even if it was a single piece though, he would've worn it no matter what, even if it "clashed" with his outfit. ♡

Beel & Belphie: "We promise to never take it off." "You promise too ___!"

The twins immediately pulled you into bed & cuddled with you, happily accepting their gifts. You gave each a pendant, a sun for Beel & a moon for Belphie, the middle of each pendant holding your precious red liquid. You even got a star pendant for yourself to match with them although your pendant remained empty; something they noticed quickly. They happily offered up their own blood; they never minded sharing as long as it's with you. ♡♡

Barbatos: "I'm...at a loss for words, thank you."

He kissed your cheek before turning his attention to the golden pocket watch you gave him. He handled it delicately, admiring the ancient designs etched onto it before opening it. It was a gorgeous watch, one of the inner side walls swirled beautifully with your blood. He enjoyed the hidden surprise inside for his eyes only. Truly, he was moved by your gift & made a mental note to give you something in return. ♡

Diavolo: "An absolute treasure this is."

He gave you a tight hug, nearly cutting your air supply off. He's received many gifts throughout the years but the custom pen you gave him was now at the top of the list. Only a see-through compartment of the pen held your blood, floating around. The actual ink inside the pen was regular but refillable for permanent use. He found himself smiling a little more even when filling out the piles of paperwork on his desk. It also finally fixed his habit of losing pens, making sure he always has it on him for quick signing (& Barbatos thanks you for it). ♡

Also I like to think that if they really miss you, they'll hold their object close to their nose to get a whiff of your scent ♡ alakskfgllsskfkg

⬦You might also like: Coffee Shop︱Two A.M.︱Pick-Me-Up

[felassan]

Mass Effect: The Official Cocktail Book (Part 1 of 2)

[you can get the book here]

Drink, food, and other lore blurbs from this book. (The book also contains the associated real-world recipes and photography thereof. This post only contains the in-world lore segments).

this post is Part 1 of 2. Rest of post is under a cut due to length. [Link to Part 2]

If there's a particular drink/food you'd like to see the recipe and or picture for, lmk.

Introduction: Written in 2184 CE by “Ambree T’Sia”, identity classified It’s a big galaxy out there. Numerous planets and their inhabitants, all jockeying for power, prestige, and precedence. With these competing agendas often clashing, seldom mixing, sometimes you need a swig of something stiff to get you to the next Relay. Well, you’ve come to the right place. And me? Nine hundred years (give or take) and a variety of careers and aliases later, I hustle my way through the galaxy by the name of Ambree T’Sia these days. It’s the one fiction that allows me to keep the rest of the story honest – with varying degrees, depending on the situation. What I can share is this: a former asari huntress, I left the military bureaucracy to lead a small covert unit of ex-commandos focused on espionage and assassination outside of official channels. More effective and more fun that way. In my earlier years, I quickly learned that the best way to collect information is to buy a merc a drink or talk to the entertainers. The more I relied on bars and nightclubs to gather intel, the more connections I made with the key players. Not just the ones in the back office, but the ones slinging drinks with closed mouths and open ears. I started posing as a bartender myself and got quite good at it. Enjoyed it, even. I couldn’t exactly stay put for, well, reasons. But among those in the know, I’m still the go-to source for recommendations about the Milky Way’s best bars and nightclubs. After one too many “you should write a book!” jokes, I did. Guns and bribes in this economy? A cocktail guide seemed like an ideal little side hustle to help fund my more targeted activities. With this pen name, I’m free to share my favorite anecdotes about well-known figures across civilizations. I’ve also included a few safety tips for surviving the galaxy, setting your drink on fire, or respecting local drinking ages. (If you’re not legal, close this book up and come back when you are, babe.) I guess I just don’t believe in accidental injuries. For those feeling brave, go ahead and speculate about who I truly am. I’m not worried in the least. Because you won’t guess, and I’ll never tell… -- “Ambree T’Sia”

MIXERS Whether you’re slinging the hard stuff or milder “hair of the FENRIS Mech that bit you” drinks, mixers are the essential building blocks to any good bar. By all means, keep your favorite fruit juices, sodas, and whatnots on hand. But as someone who tends to move around a lot due to my… profession (I’m a master of the Asari Goodbye), I tend to lead a minimalist lifestyle. As such, I keep these mixer recipes on file to prepare quickly, as I need them. Let’s just say that they’ll keep your cocktails interesting.

Blue Thessia

Yes, mama is supposed to love all her babies the same, but this mixer is my favorite for its taste and versatility. (Hmm… sound like any cocktail authors you know?) Named after the asari homeworld, the Blue Thessia is the crown jewel of your bar essentials. You’ll predominantly taste sweet juniper and recognize that bold, asari-blue color. You could make your drinks without Blue Thessia, but that’s programming a Quantum Blue Box type AI and not giving it a sexy voice. What a wasted opportunity! Do be aware that this one contains trace amounts of element zero – nothing to concern yourself about, though, and it does keep things nice and sparkly.

Tuchanka Dry

This is the good stuff and it’s very hard to come by, which is why I make my own. Tuchanka Dry is similar to a fat-washed bourbon, which not only adds the flavor of the fat to the spirit, but also its texture and weight. If you’re making a Full Biotic Kick (page 43), well, this part’s the “kick”. Traditionally made with Thresher Maw fat (I did say it was hard to come by), this recipe started as a krogan rite-of-passage celebratory drink, when leftover fat from the kill was mixed together with alcohol. If you prefer dodging grocery carts over acid spit, you can make your own and get a surprisingly similar taste by substituting bacon.

Horse Choker

I’ve often found fighter pilots to be aggressive and competitive, so it delights me that this recipe I procured from a hot-tempered Alliance pilot named Jeff “Joker” Moreau Is instead indulgent and harmonious. The chocolate and espresso flavors combined with the spiced rum work oh so well together in a luxurious cooperation that especially enhances minty drinks. But don’t take my word for it – if you’re feeling a little spicy and hot-tempered, you might find this mixer helpful when you toss back a few shots of Joker’s Challenge (page 98) with your closest frenemies.

Simple Syrup

An essential building block for cocktails. Any well-stocked bar has a traditional simple syrup on hand. If you’re new to cocktail making and a bit apprehensive, start here – just add sugar to boiling water. See? Simple. As you’ll see, I prefer twice as much sugar to water. It’s on the richer side and your mileage may vary, as they say. Be aware that you don’t want to let too much water evaporate, or the syrup will reduce and cook down to something resembling krogan poetry: thicker and sweeter than expected. (Try to get past one stanza of Blue Rose of Illium without rolling your eyes out of their sockets, I dare you.)

Salarian Salination Solution

Successfully made your way through the Simple Syrup recipe (page 13) but still feel like you need one more easy win? Perhaps a mixer that’s ideal for citrus-heavy cocktails? Make this bartender’s saline next and keep in mind that science doesn’t always have to be complicated. Science is also very useful, and you’ll find this mixer in a variety of recipes throughout this book. (For the more adventurous, the Liquified Turian on page 57 is a must.) Now, if you think adding sea salt to warm water isn’t exactly “science”, then your name isn’t Sel Vass – a double-crossing salarian bartender who fancies himself an “intoxicologist”. I have… thoughts on that, which is why I’ve named this Salarian Salination Solution after him. And if your name is Sel Vass, I’m going to add your kidneys to my next bar menu – preferably with you still alive. (I’ve heard that when the Protheans did this to your ancestors, they found the fear adds “spice”).

Tupo Concentrate

I love a good Tupo Concentrate: it has a delicious balance of mouth-puckering tartness and euphoric sweetness. The only problem? I can never find any berries! Tupari sports drink-makers horde as much as they can to sell “12 trillion bottles per day”, despite only containing 10 percent real tupo juice (goddess only knows what the other 90 percent of that swill is). Fortunately, grenadine is a perfect substitute for when you’re looking to add a beautiful hue and unexpected depth of flavor to your cocktail.

Drell Skin Venom

Like bitters, Drell Skin Venom adds a nice bite, making your cocktail extraordinarily complex with just a few drops. Now, you might think that enough Drell Skin Venom may grant the memory-recall properties of its erstwhile secretor, but it’s more likely that the high alcohol content (which keeps it in heavy rotation at swanky bars like the Silver Coast Casino) will create more plot holes in your life than the salarian extranet drama Dynasty of Stars (with the same amount of nausea - stick to science, you excitable little amphibians!)

Asari Honey Syrup

For the occasions where you’re looking to spice things up, I’d suggest using this honey syrup. It’s just as versatile as its simple syrup sister but adds a bit more flavor. This particular mixer has a spicy little background as well: the original recipe was made in an Ardat-Yakshi monastery and its honeyed flavor is as alluring as its makers. Considering said makers enjoy nothing less than total domination, however, this syrup is unexpectedly collaborative with numerous drinks and flavors.

AFTERLIFE CLUB What is Afterlife? Why, the ultimate in illicit entertainment. Iconic, chic, ready to show you a good time… but mind your manners. Under all that polish, Afterlife is seething with violence just under the surface. A locus of power and secrecy – is it any wonder the glitzy club sports an ethic of violence and greed? And that’s just how this nightclub’s patrons, and its Pirate Queen, prefer things. Aria T’Loak oversees this particular multilevel palace of paradise and perdition on the space station Omega. And yes, its lure entices millions around the galaxy to leave their ordinary lives for extraordinary adventures, so be sure to show her the proper respect. She’s shot people she liked far more for way less. The recipes in this section are her top sellers – perfect for when you’d rather spend the night in than risk getting poisoned by a batarian bartender with a grudge against humans.

The Omega Sling

This cocktail is a personal favorite of mine from Afterlife for a reason. It’s sweet, tart, bitter, fruity, and spicy all at once. A complex little thing, and a single-serving punch that can also pack one. While it’s definitely a drink made to impress (look at that list of ingredients!), for me, it tastes like personal accomplishment. I once led a raid on a CAT6 outpost that nabbed enough high-end military gear to outfit my crew for a long, long time. It was a bastard to plan, just like the Omega Sling, but that only made the victory that much sweeter.

Blue Sun Spritz

Did you know that the Blue Suns mercenary group was founded by a batarian named Solem Dal’serah? That’s the public-facing story they’d prefer you believe, at least. And to celebrate said founding, Solem toasted the group with this hard-hitting wine spritz. The color ends up being a rich deep blue – a little on the nose, maybe, but it lands most satisfyingly on the tongue.

Tuchanka Sunset

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that krogan don’t have a sense of humor. I used to run with a Battlemaster in my early days whose wit was as dry and vast as an Asterian desert. We survived an Eclipse double-cross by the skin of our teeth, and when we got back to our dingy little hideout, he toasted our fortune with a Tuchanka Sunset. His own personal recipe. He claimed the bartenders at Afterlife know how to make it, if you ask. Now, I love a good sunset drink and as such was appalled to watch him dump black rum on top of an otherwise flawless concoction. Sensing my shock, with a wry half-smile he said, “Well, yeah, wouldn’t be a sunset on Tuchanka without a choking cloud of toxic ash to ruin the view now, would it?”

Serrice Ice Brandy

I find human Alliance officers to be particularly dull and single-minded. So new to space, with such a short lifespan, few know how to relax and have fun. Not so with their medical personnel: disgruntled, overworked, and with the romance of military life quickly snuffed out by the harsh realities of combat, they know how to put the Rs in R & R. Serrice Ice Brandy always reminds me of a particular Alliance officer named Karin Chakwas, very posh and put together, who got a little salty after a drink (or several) of the stuff.

Sovak Juice

Have you heard the one about how krogan males name their infants? According to salarian scientist Padok Wiks, they get drunk on sovak juice and hold belching contests. Apparently, whatever sounds most like a word becomes a name. I doubt there’s much validity to this claim (although… Wrex?) but I still remember the young krogan merc I renamed after a night of tossing back these nutty, bubbly little things together. It’s been a while, but I do sincerely hope Urp is doing well out there. [note on recipe: “Garnish: For sovak juice? Come on, now.”]

Noverian Rum Swizzle

Seeing as rum is a liquor made with sugarcane molasses or sugarcane juice, one might associate it with warm, tropical climates. One would also be wrong and very much missing out on one of the finest varieties in the entire galaxy. I refuse to make this drink with anything less than quality Noverian rum (and Asari Honey Syrup, of course). Once you’ve had a taste, you’ll understand why Aria T’Loak was so sulky after Purgatory’s stock of the stuff ran out. Though, to be fair, having her entire empire occupied by Cerberus General Oleg Petrovsky may have also contributed to her sour mood. For that authentic touch of frost, I recommend harnessing biotics to give your stick the right amount of swizzle.

DARK STAR LOUNGE Dark stars, as a theoretical curiosity, could be extremely powerful. Dark Star Lounge, an actual bar, definitively serves extremely powerful drinks. Located on the Citadel one level up from the C-Sec office in Zakera Ward (a convenient perp walk away when patrons get too rowdy), many bartenders are happy to give customers exactly what they ask for… the “usual” being a thumping hangover. If you like your drinks stiffer than a turian’s carapace, you’ve flipped to the right section. Higher-proof spirits with a higher spirit-to-mixer ratio for a higher class of drinker, Dark Star recipes do not disappoint. I trust you can handle it… and if you happen to wake up next to an attractive stranger the next morning whose name you can’t quite recall, I recommend breaking the ice over some Huevos Rancheros à la Vega (see page 12, you charmer).

Batarian Ale Shandy

If you’re not a krogan or batarian, please don’t drink uncut batarian ale. It’s mean, it’s green, and it will leave your insides clean. Instead, use this recipe to make yourself a refreshing and fizzy shandy. Yes, a human Spectre managed to stay on their feet after chugging a glass of the uncut ale – at least that’s what one Dark Star Lounge bartender claims. But ask yourself: Are you really the type? I’m reminded of a naïve bar patron cosplaying in plastic N7 armor he convinced his poor wife to buy him (along with his shuttle-fare off world, understandably). You’re not “truly extreme”. Do yourself a favor: Check your ego and enjoy the Batarian Ale Shandy.

Dark Star Vespertini

No trip to Dark Star Lounge is complete without ordering this signature cocktail, the Dark Star Vespertini, especially if you have a bit of a sweet tooth. I’ve included the recipe here, at great risk to certain of my… relationships… at the lounge. It’s simply too delicious not to share, with a rich chocolate-raspberry taste. Be sure to shake this one well – for the nonbiotics who need to do this task manually, I liken it to the amount of time until you start to worry your arm will fall off. If it feels like you’re giving the tumbler a quick ride in an M35 Mako, you’re doing it right.

Ryncol Cocktail

Listen up, tough guys. I promise you that bartenders are never impressed when you swagger up and ask for “the strongest you have”. In fact, just to make sure you embarrass yourself in front of your friends, they’ll probably slap on a fake smile and pour you a tall glass of krogan ryncol. Never heard of it? They certainly don’t advertise the stuff. But for fun, let’s spitball some potential slogans: “Ryncol! It hits aliens like ground glass,” or “Ryncol! It’s like sipping knives,” or “Ryncol! It’ll set of radiological alarms.” Just ask a certain Commander Shepard. And enjoy your purple prayers to the porcelain goddess…

Paragade Punch

While Tupari sports drinks are all the rage, don’t discount Paragade! Especially in cocktails. By itself, it’s not too good and it’s not too bad, but mixed with alcohol, it’s somewhat of a revelation. This recipe gives you a layered drink that starts out sweetly and ends with a real kick to the quads. Perfect for those nights where you might hold your tongue at one bar only to start throwing chairs at the next. It takes a deft hand to get the blue-purple-red proportions right when you’re making one, and to get the ending you want after a night of drinking them.

Dextro Heat Sink

Like a boilermaker, the Dextro Heat Sink is a great way of making strong alcohol stronger. During his Archangel days, Garrus Vakarian and his crew would slug these like candy as they racked up wins against the Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse thugs on Omega. This is a sweet and spicy tequila cocktail (the “heat”) with a dropped shot of Ancho Reyes liqueur (the “sink”). An unlimited amount of these might be fun at first, with the occasional pause to blow some heat off your tongue, but it’s advised to keep them to a finite amount.

Turian Horosk

Considering the rigidity of turians, you’d need a pretty strong drink to loosen them up enough to get the wedgie out of their thermal armor. Enter: Turian Horosk. Another Garrus Vakarian favorite, you’re not going to find this outside of a handful of bars, and certainly not at the posher Silver Coast Casinos of the ‘verse. So, if you’re looking to calibrate your soberness in the opposite direction, here’s the recipe for you. The lemonade flavor helps it go down easy and the spices are optional – the hangover from too many rounds of this, however, is not.

PURGATORY BAR The Citadel is a tourist trap. Humans tend to view this as a disparaging label, but I say it with great enthusiasm. For my credits, there’s no better way to take in the sights than as a lowercase t tourist, and there’s no better place to do that than the Citadel. If you have the time, a bar named Purgatory serves drinks that are especially heavenly. If you like new takes on classic cocktails with a slightly higher mixer-to-alcohol ratio, sip on these before taking in the sights and sounds of the Presidium. And if you’re just not convinced it’s worth the visit, well, at least you can whip up these drinks at home. And do take your Citadel recommendations with a grain of salt when you’re there (barring the guide currently in your hands, of course). Especially ones coming from the hotshot human Spectre making the rounds – that one will endorse anything for a discount.

Frozen Pyjak

The best part about tending bar? The customers. I learn a little about a lot just by listening. The worst part about tending bar? The customers. Sometimes I don’t have to listen too intently, as their volume increases with their alcohol intake. For fun, I used to give my loudest customers a freebie: the Frozen Pyjak. I overheard Samantha Traynor boasting (loudly, ironically) about this and it sounded too entertaining not to try it out: Every few hours, you empty your spill pad into a martini glass and toss a little ice in for presentation. This is a much nicer variation for you to make. All these ingredients go incredibly well together, so you can serve it to people you actually like. [note on recipe: “Garnish: Well now, that would defeat the point.”]

Full Biotic Kick

My curiosity for the Full Biotic Kick was piqued by a charming young Alliance comms specialist named Samantha Traynor who extolled its virtues. Apparently, this was the most popular drink served when she worked “extensively” as a bartender during her university days… for a whole four years. I understand humans consider this quite the span of time – how quaint. I believe the “kick” comes directly from the Tuchanka Dry, and if you’ve ever faced down a biotic krogan Battlemaster (and lived to tell about it), you’ll understand why.

Vodka Skycar

As the Citadel became increasingly populated and its denizens spread across the wards of this colossal space station, they began to rely more and more on a centralized mode of transportation. Enter the skycar, a maddeningly slow shuttle that, though nowhere near as glacially paced as Citadel elevators, redeems itself with some of the most incredible views in the galaxy. When I need to slow down, I make myself a nice Vodka Skycar, get lost in its pretty sky-blue color, and hire an ambling ride around the glittering Citadel Tower. Magical.

Rojo Loco

Everyone loves a good Rojo Loco: C-Sec, pirates, accountants, politicians, hunky Alliance marines who think pull-up contests and cute little nicknames might get you into their beds (full disclosure, they can, and they have… cheers, James Vega). Because underneath all the stories everyone tells themselves about themselves, at the end of the day, all any of us are really looking for is to enjoy a bit of spice and heat. Maybe that’s a firefight. Maybe that’s filing paperwork. Either way, this drink ticks that box and gives you the same warm tingle.

TM88 Smash

I love a good rebrand. TM88 used to be known as “Merc’s Courage,” because drinking enough of the stuff gave one the false sense of strength that often comes with getting absolutely hammered. Salarians especially took a shine to this Earth-based whiskey and swore it had medicinal properties… when really it was the shortest distance between two points to get a person drunk. Ever the opportunists, salarians branded TM88 as a cure-all and “the only alcoholic drink endorsed by the Medical Board of Sur’Kesh.” Alliance officer Kaidan Alenko credits the stuff for his speedy discharge from Huerta Memorial Hospital. So, drink up! Doctor’s orders.

ETERNITY Due to its extreme opulence and high level of security, the asari-run planet of Illium is a preferred tourist destination and (second, third, fourth) home of many of the galaxy’s most well-known celebrities. It’s also under a state of near-total surveillance. You can take their self-congratulatory media touting Eternity as “the sexiest bar in the Milky Way” with a few handfuls of salt (though with Matriarch Aethyta slinging drinks, “sexiest bartender” would be harder to argue with), but don’t sleep on their drink selection. I have a soft spot for asari drinks, as you might expect. I find them to be sweet and mellow and think Eternity gets them right. I’ve collected a few of my favorites for you here. Regarding the Liquified Turian (page 57) backstory, well… who can say if that one’s legit? But seeing as the normally stringent customs laws of Council space on safety and sapient trafficking are relaxed on Illium, I can’t say I’d be too surprised.  

Mystery Drink

I understand mystique. It’s a powerful weapon that can influence your enemies before you ever need to fire a shot. I also understand bullshit and am very good at differentiating the latter from the former. So, when I first heard this Mystery Drink is rumored to come from “the deepest reaches of the Traverse,” distilled on a “shadowy nameless planet” by “specifically adapted Vorcha,” alarms were ringing in my head. Until I had a sip. Deceptively fruity and floral but highly intoxicating with an otherworldly appearance, well, does it matter where it came from, especially if you can get the same fabulous taste using syrup from canned lychees? No. In the case of this delicious little Mystery Drink, it most certainly does not.

Asari Honey-Mead Bellini

Made in an Ardat-Yakshi monastery, asari honey mead is for those with taste. And, let’s be honest, credits. Whoever said “the best things in life are free” was compensating, because this expensive little drink is worth the experience. Ever the one to push boundaries, I prefer to prepare my honey mead with sparkling wine to make an effervescent little bellini, because the sweet and mellow flavor mixed with bubbles positively sparkles – in the glass and on the soul.

Perfection

I once crossed paths with this pretty little human who called herself Miranda Lawson. Despite her formidable intelligence, killer biotic abilities, and, well, let’s just say her “superior physical constitution,” she seemed to be… missing something. She didn’t say and I didn’t press, but we shared a drink whose taste was as excellent as the woman pouring. Asking her what she called it, she gave a sad smile and simply said, “Perfection”. Indeed. To her surprise (and delight, I might add), I sweetened the affair with a shot of strawberry liqueur and told her, “Yes, but there’s always room for improvement, dear”. Hmm. I wonder if she ever found what she was looking for.

Memory Stealer

Ah, Kasumi Goto. The best thief in the business. You don’t remember her and she prefers it that way. She’s so good, she’ll even nick your memory of her ever having been there… along with whatever valuables you had in your pockets. When I do have the good fortune of remembering her, I like to pour this drink made with Japanese gin in her honor. And like the master thief herself, one too many Memory Stealers will no doubt leave you with a hazy recollection the next morning.

Liquified Turian

“Ambree,” you say. “Certainly, Matriarch Aethyta’s story of a krogan drinking liquified turian on a bet is embellished? A tall tale? Urban legend meant to titillate, disgust, and delight?” Maybe. Regardless, it’s one of my favorites, so I made this drink in homage (and to capitalize off the story – your girl is nothing if not quick to make a quick cred). I use a tequila base, with agave being native to a desert climate like you’d find on Palaven. Of course, I use egg white for the smooth texture, plus saline to stabilize this particular choice of “protein”. And the blue curaçao, well, turian blood is blue, after all! Mm, you can almost taste the dextro-amino acids. [note on recipe: “Garnish: No embellishment needed with a backstory this impressive.”]

FLUX

Flux is one of the more recent night spots to open on the Citadel and boasts a casino in addition to a well-stocked bar. The atmosphere is almost as inviting as the volus who runs the place – alternating between owner, cook, and bartender, one wonders where Doran finds the energy. But at some point, you’ll be sure to find this little macaroon from Irune shaking his pressure suit on the dance floor.

The recipes I’ve collected from Flux are, as you can imagine, fun and whimsical. Seeing as Doran spends an equal amount of time in the kitchen as he does behind the bar, you can also find a fair bit of culinary flare in the drink preparation. Enjoy yourself, Earth-clan!

Tupari Blast

Despite the volus being a race not cut out for physicality of any kind, their mastery of trade and commerce has helped Tupari sports drinks conquer the galaxy. It seems like you can’t swing a dead CAT6 without hitting a vending machine of the stuff, and Doran has a particular fondness for it. I���d be remiss to not include it here, both for its delicious taste and because of how well it sells. Its strong fruity flavor makes it a consistent Flux favorite. It’ll give you the courage to get on the dance floor and the electrolytes to stay there until closing time.

Rum Relay

A toast to the Mass Relays! Forgive my (brief, I promise) indulgence in sentimentality, but the Relays have brought together an array of intelligent life whose differences remind us of how we’re all pretty much the same: unsure of our place in the universe, but in our best moments willing to teach and learn from our Milky Way sisters and brothers. No one understands that better than Doran, and what better way to celebrate it than by sloshing a Rum Relay milk punch all over the dance floor as you boogie the night away.

Blasto Sting

This one unironically loves the Blasto franchise. The acting, the writing, the backdrops? High camp, babe. A human essayist, Sontag, wrote, “You can’t camp about something you don’t take seriously. You’re not making fun of it; you’re making fun out of it.”  And what’s more fun than adding cream to grape Pucker? It creates a hanar in every shot. Try my favorite drinking game: gather your friends, fire up Blasto Saves Christmas, and throw back a Blasto Sting every time he says, “Enkindle THIS!”

Denorian Beer Granita

Krogan are not known for negotiation. If you find yourself mediating with one for goddess’ sake do not show up empty-handed. I tried to bluff my way through just such a situation once and you wouldn’t be reading this book if I hadn’t had ingredients for Denorian Beer Granita on hand. I developed a fondness for Denorian beer from Urdnot Wrex, but this cocktail takes it to another level. In a desperate attempt to cool tensions, I offered to make a round of this unique drink with its smooth taste, fun texture, and visually appealing look. The krogan got the recipe and I got to walk away (with a little extra pep in my step from the caffeine). Win-win.

Tasty Tankard

What can I say? I’m a Matriarch with a Maiden’s tastes: I like a pretty young thing on my arm, a warm Acolyte pistol, and a heaping bowl of human ice cream. Chocolate, if you’re taking notes. The Tasty Tankard is essentially a boozy milkshake, and I urge you to ignore anyone who tries to tell you that drinks made in a blender only belong in cheesy resorts. This one goes down dangerously easy, and the recipe makes enough for two… or one krogan with a sweet tooth. If that krogan happens to be Grunt, I advise having enough on hand to fill a large enough container. Perhaps a flower pot’s worth? [note on recipe: “Serves: 2… or 1 krogan.”]

CHORA’S DEN Not for the faint of heart, Chora’s Den on the Citadel is the “livelier but deadlier” choice to stop for a drink. A gentleman’s club owned by a scoundrel (novel, I know), the clientele and drinks lean heavily towards the strong and seedy type. The loud music and low lighting do well to cover the bloodstains and less-than-legitimate conversations, but you’ll have a great time if you mind your business and tip the asari dancers well. Be sure to ask Fist, the proprietor of this fine establishment, about the back room – it’s perfect for your next shady deal. And I’m not one for gossip, but if you’re curious about the smell, I’ve heard Fist has a habit of burying “old problems” under the dancers’ stage. The following recipes evoke the Den’s more… aggressive tendencies.

Tequila Se’lai

Whether you’re human, turian, or salarian, we’ve all got our shared little “catch phrases” we catch ourselves saying: “Embrace eternity” if you’re asari, “Victory or death” if you’re krogan, ★heavy breathing intensifies★, if you’re volus… you get the idea. I quite like the quarians’ “Keelah Se’lai,” or “By the homeworld I hope to see one day.” Tragic but beautiful. This recipe is an ode to their homeworld, Rannoch, with desert and coastal flavors all brought together with a lovely prickly pear syrup.

Elasa

I’m not really a “drown your sorrows” type of gal. I’m more of the “drown you in a hail of incendiary ammo if you upset me” type. To each their own. If you lean more on a shoulder and less on a trigger, you can’t go wrong with an Elasa, aka Sorrow’s Companion. (They’re not joking when they say it serves one…) Pale green with a bitter aftertaste and tangy sweetness, it’s a great way to take life’s lemons and make lemon garnish for your cocktail (or limes, in this case). Fist, ever putting the gentlemen in gentlemen’s club, used to refer to this drink as The Cynthia, a snide reference to Elasa being Alliance Commander David Anderson’s preferred drink during his divorce.

Quad Kicker

Not for the faint of heart, the Quad Kicker will, well, kick you straight in the quad, I suppose. Samantha Traynor is adamant about “no curry powder” in her version, but why take away that spicy mouthfeel? Add that curry simple syrup and let this baby wake you up! It ain’t called the Quad Fondler, so step up and throw down with your friends (or enemies).

Shadowbrokertini

I hope by this point you’ve come to realize that I know everything that’s worth knowing. Yet I humbly admit that, try as I might, I’m still unable to unmask the Shadow Broker. But I am familiar with their agents, including a certain proprietor of Chora’s Den. And even though Fist refuses to confess what he knows (which, I suspect, is even less than I do), he did agree to collaborate on a cocktail worthy of that confidential entity. Dark, shadowy, and with enough caffeine to help keep one sharp in the secrets-trading game, the Shadowbrokertini theatrically uses dry ice to add an air of mystery. I trust you don’t need the Shadow Broker’s services to know that swallowing dry ice can kill you, yes? [note on recipe: “(Note: Some Shadow Brokers prefer it without lime at all.)”]

The Erotic Biotic

I suppose I should start this one off with a warning: Don’t underestimate young asari. Yes, there is a strong drive for at the Maiden stage to explore and experience. Curious and restless, some look for the nearest bar to dance in. But that’s no reason to let your guard down. Many don’t realize their mistake until they’re telekinetically slammed into the nearest concrete wall. Well, that’s just the ratio of risk-to-reward that Chora’s Den captures with this drink. With a winky flavor profile of fruit and cream, finish your Erotic Biotic with Drell Skin Venom to add a tingly bite (for the adventurous types), or with chocolate bitters (for the romantics). I like a bit of both – I may be a Matriarch, yet I’ve never lost that desire to explore and experience…

The Shifty Cow

While I’ve heard just about every maxim in the ‘verse, one rings particularly true: “You can’t trust any animal that can milk itself.” Yes, I’m talking about space cows, with their unsettling, grabby little hands. Turn your back around one and they’ll pick through your pockets. The Shifty Cow cocktail is a clarified milk punch. And that’s partly because it’s fun to separate the milk solids from the drink, but also because I’m reminded of these audacious little cows eagerly separating an unsuspecting fool from their credits. And yes, we do have that in common, which reminds me of a human maxim: “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You win this round, space cows.

-----

[you can get the book here]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s your first day at work. Your nerves have simmered over to a nice whirlwind. Even as you sit at your desk, going through the various training materials. You haven’t managed to calm down. Your heart is beating so fast.

Everyone’s been nice. You don’t know why you’re jittering. Like your mother says, you’re overthinking, and like your father says, you need to sit still. You grab the armrests and try to make yourself stop moving. It only makes you want to boil over.

You swivel back and forth and look at your coworkers. They’re all so busy like bees in a hive. They know exactly what they’re doing and you still feel lost as you sift through endless SOPs and corporate training videos.

You see a woman with purplish red curls with a mug, steam curling over the brim. Ah, that’s a good excuse for a break. You still need to figure out the office coffee machine. Daniella, your supervisor, briefly pointed it out during her tour. It’s one of those fancy industrial pod brewers.

You stand and nearly skip between the desks. Be cool. You slow your pace and hold your shoulders straight, your squared toed kitten heels clacking on the tile. You poke your head into the kitchen and find only one other employee inside.

The man’s shoulders are broad and straight as he stares silently at the coffee machine. It grinds and spurts out dark coffee. You come up next to him to peruse the spinning rack of pods, tapping your chin as you think. You peek over at him.

“Hi,” you smile, “any recommendations?”

His pale blue eyes meet yours for an instant before quickly flicking back to his cup. A plain black porcelain mug without any decoration or glitz. You already know which cup you want to bring in; the one that looks like a honey pot and has a small lid resembling a bear sticking his head out with a little honeycomb stitch between his ears.

You take one of the paper cups and a pod of the butterscotch twist. You stand back and wait your turn. He scowls as if mentally urging the cup to fill.

“I’m…” you introduce yourself, “I just started over in Research and Development.”

He doesn’t respond. He puts his hands behind him, clutching them tightly as his forearms tense. The tendons bulge out beneath his skin. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, a grey button up with black trousers. A bit grim but an aesthetic for sure. There’s several rings on his fingers as they curl around each other.

“It’s my first day,” you continue the one-sided conversation, “so… that’s why you never saw me before.”

He growls and grabs his cup as the machine dings. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he turns on his heel and marches out. You watch his back and shrug, blowing out between your lips. You get it, some people aren’t the social type.

You put your cup under the spout and tap the touchscreen. It takes you a lot of poking around to figure out how to brew the coffee. You step back and wait. Caffeine should definitely help your nerves… fuel them at least.

💗

Lunchtime comes and you grab your bento box and head down to the cafeteria. Daniella said you could eat your desk if you wished but you need a break from the screen. Besides, you notice that most people don’t.

You enter the cafeteria. There are tables here and there but they’re already crowded. You notice a few people from your department and head over to that table. Tammy moves her bag onto the seat before you can claim it. You frown and apologise as you back away.

Hmm.

You look around. You don’t know anyone. You don’t mind making new friends but it’s like high school all over again. Everyone has their clique and you’re just wandering in between.

Your gaze falls on the only table with more than one seat free. There’s a single person sitting at it, his head down as he runs his hand over his close cut hair. Hey, it’s… that guy. He didn’t give you his name.

You cross the room and near a chair, putting your hand on the back of it as you hover by the table.

“Hi, um, do you mind if I sit here?”

His eyes dart up and he says nothing. He shrugs and sits back, smoothing out the pages of the book in front of him. You sit, your bento box clanging loudly as you do. You give a sheepish smile as he clears his throat but doesn’t look at you.

You flip back the clasp and pop open the lid. He shifts in his chair as you take out your plastic cutlery from the little compartment. You try to be quiet but you can’t help but hit the fork off the side.

You look over at him. He has only his empty mug and a half-eaten protein bar. You look back at your colourful medley of food. Maybe he’s on a diet.

“Do you like hummus?” You ask.

He doesn’t look up. You bite your lip. You’re just being friendly but maybe he’s not hungry.

“Um, uh, you remember me?” You poke at your couscous, “from the kitchen? I didn’t get your name.”

He sighs and turns the page. You nod. Not much of a talker. You let your fork lean on the edge of the bento and grab the sides of your chair, scraping it closer. He snarls and finally looks at you.

You stop and show your teeth like a threatened animal. His jaw clenches and he refocus on his book. You stir the couscous and take a bite, swallowing as your curiosity piques.

“What are you read–”

“I’m not,” he grits and shuts the book without marking the page.

He stands and pockets the protein bar, swiping up his mug and book. You gape at him, stunned. You don’t know why he’s so upset. You’re just trying to be polite. He storms away and you frown at your food. Well, you’ve always got a friend in snacks!