#beef medallions

[emilyphanster]

Beef Medallions with Fresh Horseradish Sauce Tender medallions of beef are served with a sweet tomato salad and topped with creamy fresh horseradish sauce for a quick but elegant main dish.

[fieriframes]

[We're going to add our meats -- shish-taouk chicken, and necessity of Labor 674, and the tower-fillet beef medallion, ground-beef kebabs.]

[cardboardfeet]

average homestead chicken yuri

[auntie-cosima]

Beef Medallions with Fresh Horseradish Sauce - Beef

[whenyoureallyliveindresden]

Wild Mushroom Sauce - Sauces

[daily-deliciousness]

Pan roasted beef tenderloin medallions with tomato relish

[sariels-world-ella]

Can we see more characters from UTY if they were in Sw!Fallenswap? (I think you're Ceroba design and AU's lore is very cool btw)

Sure and thanks! I'll even expand on each of them, though none of it is 100% canon to Sw!Fallenswap, and thought up quickly as they aren't canon.

I couldn't settle on a Azimuth Dalv design but I did make a pacifist route Starlo design, he reminds me of a power ranger for some reason? (It's probably the mask.)

I had to do some math to get it to fit in the Timeline, get everyone's ages and get Martlet's life expectancy and to get Dalv's persumed age by finding the life expectancy of a Fox Anthropomorphic (there is an equation I use to find life expectancies of all the Anthropomorphic races) to see if it lines up in the timeline for Kanako's grandparents to be alive in 1013, as that is the most notable year in the timeline where Anthropomorphics did kill a bunch of Undeads matching Fallen!Dalv's description on why he has beef with the Ketsukanes (though Dalv never mentioned a year). The life expectancy number came out to be 950, then by adding Ceroba's age of 39 (assuming either Ceroba or Chujin's parent(s) had their child near the end of their lifespan) minusing it by 1985, got me 996 which did check out timeline wise.

Character notes:

Clover Notes: Clover doesn't change much from their UTY appearance, changes are they are much more verbal, Clover can save and load, doesn't have Flowey/Temmie because Temmie wasn't made animate until the 90s and they carry around a Polaroid Camera (which was very popular in the 80s), which there are certain spots that you can take a picture of giving you the Achievement "Picture Perfect" and doing them all gives you the achievement "Photographer's Eye"

Clover will become a Myling with the other souls and kill Ultra Temmie in Chara's non-canon neutral ending still. Clover is one of the 11 characters known to be from Gen X.

Unlike Genocide UTY Clover, Genocide Fallen!Clover does die still, due to Sans ripping Clover's heart out and eating it before Clover was able to shoot Toriel, meaning the Clover’s Genocide Route in Sw!Fallenswap could technically be canon if it wasn't directly stated Sans only killed Patience, Bravery, and Perseverance.

The fact Sans was able to sneak up on Clover implies he was expecting Clover to show up, even though Clover managed to enter the castle undetected, so it's likely Dalv conversed with Sans beforehand.

Since Temmie didn't exist yet when Clover was alive, you can wait for Asgore to drop a rope for you gaining the Achievement “Patience is Virtue”, which will cause you to skip the Martlet fight and proceed like normal Undertale except you have to sneak out of ruins which is difficult but worth it as you also skip most of Snowdin as well, because Papyrus saves you from Sans and teleports Clover away,  Papyrus gives you a medallion and tells Clover to show it to Dalv and say “Papyrus sent you” which can skip the Dalv fight (if you so wish) which will get you straight to the portion of attempting to travel to Hotland, the medallion can actually also be used to instantly spare MOST random encounter enemies which will give you the achievement “VIP”

If you don't wait for Asgore to drop the rope the playthrough plays similarly to UTY, but without Flowey or Temmie, if you do a genocide route Dalv won't shapeshift into a wolf and swim you down the river, instead The Boatman (Wingding Gaster) does, but Clover still ends up falling off the dam, but instead of Sans causing a wave from striking a bone wall into the water, Wingding purposely knocks you off the dam knowing what you did.

Either way, you wash up on a Dunes’ shore on 1 HP, which makes the medallion very useful to have if you waited for Asgore to return and got the medallion from Papyrus as it can instantly spare most enemies, so you won't get killed by them before you reach a save point.

Martlet Notes: She's a hermit that lived in the ruins before they were abandoned, she met Chujin before and due to her age she is old enough to have met the Integrity soul who fell down in 1936. She likes jigsaw and logic puzzles, as well as reading textbooks.

She's the only known character from the Cavalier Generation. Her personality seems to be a blend of her original personality and Dalv's

Dalv notes:

Dalv (or Sir Alucard by Ceroba and Officer Alucard by Starlo) His personality is similar to his original and Martlet's, the most notable difference between his personality and UTY!Dalv’s personality is that Fallen!Dalv has much more of a spine when it comes to advocating for himself and speaking his mind, he is much more willing to stand his ground and overall is much more brave, he is also much more willing to use profanity, albeit not in English, usually in Romanian or Monstarian when speaking to another Monster (adult monster that is, as he doesn't swear at children).

Judging by the fact he is stationed in Snowdin but doesn't wear the Snowdin Guard Armor, means he was either off duty when he ran into Clover or not apart of the Snowdin police force, but he is also not wearing a deltarune so being off duty is more likely.

He has beef with The Ketsukanes due to Kanako's Grandparents role in the 1013 Mass Undead Racial Cleansing, but doesn't have that same resentment towards Kanako as she tried to right the wrongs. Judging by the fact Dalv mentioned having parents and a younger sibling, it means Dalv is either a traditional variant (parents are the Elden Variant) as Elden Variants are naturally spawned, or Ancient variant if his parents were Ancestral Undead (once Elves)

Dalv is seen to shapeshift into a bat and a wolf before, bat when trying to escape with Clover and when they dropped over a waterfall and a wolf when swimming in the river with Clover on his back to try to get to Hotland.

As a Vampire, like all Undeads, he does have telekinesis and teleportation, so in his fight Blue Soul Mode is used for some attacks. Instead of Puzzles in Snowdin, he sets up riddles due to his love of storytelling.

It’s implied Dalv likely conversed with Sans before the Azimuth Dalv fight due to the fact Sans was able to ambush Clover before Clover could kill Toriel, which isn't unlikely as they are both on the royal guard and Dalv seems to be on a first name basis with Sans as Dalv said “Sans, you're a tâmpit!" instead of “Sir Gaster, you're a tâmpit!” (tâmpit which in this case means "asshole" in Romanian) when Sans causes Dalv and Clover to get washed over the dam, this is notable because Royal Guards only refer to each other by first name if A.) They don't have one (which Sans does, it's “Gaster”) or B.) They are on frequent speaking terms outside of the Royal Guard, this means Dalv and Sans must converse frequently outside of guard duty to know each other's first names.

Genocide phases:

Dalv is in his normal form, and his fight is a harder version of his pacifist/neutral fight

When Dalv gets low on HP he injects something (either DETERMINATION or SPITE) into himself, which turns him into Azimuth Dalv

Once killed Dalv's Shade spawns, like all Shades in Sw!Fallenswap, it has high attack and defense but only one HP, meaning you have to do all the shots perfectly with the wild revolver to actually kill him, any mistake won't be enough damage to get through the Shade's Defense.

He seems to inject himself with either DETERMINATION or SPITE at the end of Genocide, due to the fact in that scenario DETERMINATION will turn a monster into a Draugr and races in the Undead Monster Type will not have that reaction to DETERMINATION but neither would SPITE as it creates a Shade after dying and doesn't put them into a temporary state, so it's unknown what caused that reaction, but it's still likely SPITE instead which explains why Dalv was able to handle it so easily and not melt as SPITE destroys light mana in a Monster’s soul while DETERMINATION melts it, but since Undead Souls have Dark Mana instead, SPITE doesn't harm their soul. It also explains why phase 3 Dalv is a Shade. It is also more likely to be SPITE instead of DETERMINATION, as that would be easier to acquire, only way Dalv would get his hands on DETERMINATION is if he extracted it from Undyne, though he does know her, Undyne would likely try to stop Clover herself. The way Dalv could get his hands on SPITE would be extracting it from Sans or another Undead, though Dalv did call Sans an asshole and Sans did cause a massive wave which caused Dalv and Clover to get washed over the dam and fall into the Dunes area in a Pacifist and neutral run, Sans would likely be willing to extract SPITE from himself to give to Dalv, and not go and fight Clover instead like Undyne would, as he is more likely to stay at New Home to defend Toriel which Sans does successfully in Clover's genocide run as he does very graphically and violently kill Clover.

Starlo Notes: he seems to work with Ceroba in some way, despite not being in the royal guard, he is either a part of the boomer generation or Silent generation in the case Starlo is a year older than Ceroba. Like his original counterpart, he had a crush on Ceroba and knew her since childhood, though unlike his UTY!Counterpart as he doesn't have this North Star Persona, he is more open about his nerdy side and seems to be rather intelligent when figuring out how to defeat the robots in Steamworks. Since Starlo has no attachment to Kanako's robots, killing Axis or Guardener will not abort the pacifist route, he's just relieved you made it out okay.

His personality is similar to UTY, but his temperament seems much more like UTY!Ceroba, he injected Chujin with the serum made from the Kindness Soul, because Chujin tricked Starlo into injecting Kanako's concoction into Chujin thinking it as harmless leaving Starlo into believing he accidentally killed Chujin, but he never told Ceroba this. Starlo also only tries to kill Clover as a mercy-kill-last-resort type thing because if Clover makes it to Toriel, Toriel will burn Clover alive resulting in a painful death, if Clover isn't handed over to Toriel, Clover will die of heart failure due to vitamin D deficiency, and if Clover somehow manages to kill Toriel the underground will possibly go into anarchy, so Starlo attempts to kill Clover in Pacifist route realizing these 3 outcomes.

Ceroba notes: Ceroba (or Sherif Ketsukane by Dalv) is an abrasive personality, and unlike UTY!Starlo she is affiliated with the Royal Guard, as Sherif and Dune's Police Chief are the same occupation in the Dunes region of the Underground, and unlike UTY!Starlo but like UTY!Ceroba, she has an antagonistic role. Ceroba will lash out at Clover if you kill Starlo, but Dalv will call her out as a hypocrite, as she was willing to condone murder of other people's loved ones, causing a short  altercation between the two, which Dalv does end up over powering Ceroba pushing her off the edge, which she survives after being found by some other royal guards.

Kanako Notes: Kanako was an intern, to whomever J.A River's Successor and Undyne's predecessor was and got cryogenically frozen, due to Undyne being non observant and the true lab access keycard being lost, it's unlikely Kanako will ever be found.

Kanako got her internship at 14 years old by submitting her idea of Steamworks to be a backup power supply if the core ever breaks, the robots were made in collaboration with a younger Undyne who was also an intern between 16-18 years old at the time.

Kanako wanted to make amends with Dalv Alucard as her ancestors killed his family during a massacre and wishes to right that wrong, which makes Kanako the only Ketsukane that Dalv doesn't have beef with.

Chujin notes: Very little is known about Chujin other than he tricked Starlo into administering the serum and that Chujin was a stay-at-home parent, we also know he's not a boss monster like he was in UTY, as Boss Monster is a specific race of Monster and not category. We also know like Ceroba and  unlike Kanako, he is unwilling to try to make amends for his ancestors wrongdoings in the 1013 Mass Undead Racial Cleansing, as implied by what Kanako said to Dalv, further supported by Ceroba's predisposition of hating Dalv. We can assume he had a lot of faith in Kanako's abilities as he was willing to try her concoction on himself, which ended his life and due to Undyne not being the Royal Scientist yet, he wasn't used in Undyne's experiments and died in hospice.

[mar1ssaway]

16 May 2024

Coffee with Equal & Almond [15]

Almond Milk Latte [130]

60g Denoda Sugarfree Icecream [114]

Beef Medallion [165]

Brocolli, Cauliflower w. Cheese [62]

Sugarfree Hot Chocolate w. Almond [18]

C@l: 504.

I'm so nervous about tomorrow.

[shepherds-of-haven]

When Mc ran after Chase into the thieves guild and then Blade and Trouble showd a fight almost broke out. I was just wondering if it did turn into a fight what would the aftermath of that looked like?

Realistically, neither side was looking to turn things into a bloodbath over a medallion: Blade and Trouble would have only used lethal force if Chase’s thieves made it clear they wanted to kill them, which they didn’t. Not only does Chase have a general policy of not killing theft-victims or lawmen (unless absolutely necessary) (though all bets are off for rival thieves and enemy criminal groups), but it just wouldn’t have been good sense to kill three Shepherd officers when there’s no actual beef there. It would have brought a lot of heat down onto them for no good reason!

So realistically, what would have happened was that Trouble would have started taking out a lot of thieves with non-lethal force while Blade went straight for Chase. He would have cut down/injured several on his way there, but their numbers + Chase’s skill would have meant Chase would have eluded him long enough to keep the medallion out of his hands, he probably would have set off one of the many premade distractions he has set up around the hideout, and ultimately all of the thieves would have scattered and fled the premises before anyone could get killed or captured!

(You can headcanon what your MC would have been doing during this if you like.)

If you’re asking who would win between a no-holds barred or lethal-force battle between Trouble + Blade vs. Chase and his Thieves Guild, I would give it to Trouble and Blade in general, but Chase and a few of his thieves would survive even if they didn’t emerge the outright victors. The thieves in the guild are more scrappers and survivalists than they are head-to-head combatants with military training—they always fight to escape and regroup, not to annihilate the enemy—but Chase and his ex-assassin past does give them a very scary edge as well. Though he probably wouldn’t pull that card out unless this was like a “we’re enemies now/Avengers Civil War” scenario!

Hope that all makes sense!

[cobalt-knave]

For those who doubted the number of NPCs named Justin, here are four of them. Clerk Justin, Justin in security, Host Justin aka Beefy Justin, and Justin with a knife.

Transcript is very long, so it's under the cut!

(ep 19)

Justin: And you see a… sign that says, “Check in … here.”

Travis: Oh, okay?

Justin: Yeah. [chuckles]

Griffin: Seems this is the place to be, man.

Travis: We go there.

Justin: Okay, you go in and there’s a person sitting behind the counter. He’s about 5’7’’, he’s wearing—

Griffin: [laughs]

Justin: [chuckles] He’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

Beef: Hail and well met!

Justin (clerk): Hey.

Beef: All right.

Justin (clerk): My name’s Justin, welcome.

Beef: Woah?

Griffin: You’re not 5’7’’, are you?

Justin: No, the character in the— what are you talking— no, this— the character in the game is 5’7’’.

Montrose: We’re staying in cabin 37, may we please have our medallions as quickly as is possible?

Justin (clerk): Oh, yeah, sure.

Justin: He reaches into a drawer without even looking and pulls out three medallions

Justin (clerk): Here you go, you’re in cabin 37.

Justin (clerk): There’s probably just a bed in there. [chuckles]

Montrose: Just one?

Justin (clerk): Three.

Emerich: Oh, thank God.

Justin (clerk): Yeah.

Beef: Okay.

Montrose: I thought we were about to have ourselves a little Kevin McCallister, a little… a little party in there.

Justin (clerk): There— yeah, there’s three.

Beef: Could we… could we request some extra pillows?

Justin (clerk): Yeah, sure, you can request that.

Beef: Will we get ‘em?

Justin (clerk): Nope.

Justin (clerk): Yeah, I just sit here. It’s very boring and doesn't seem to be important. I just kind of sit here and wait for people to come, like yourself. And then hand them the medallion for their room, and then… just kind of cease to…

Montrose: Oh, well, sir—

Beef: Can I have—

Montrose: You must have more of a higher aspiration—

Justin: I mean, I have other stuff I’d like to do. But I—

Montrose: Oh, like what?

Beef: Like what?

Justin: Well, I like to do podcasting, actually.

Beef: Really, podcasting?

Justin: Yeah, I’d like to get into podcasting. But I’m not great with voices, and I’m worried that it’ll be—[chuckles]

Montrose: Hey, that said it was cool for you to give us your keycard.

Justin (clerk): [chuckles] Who’s they?

Montrose: The, you know, higher ups here at Ephemera.

Beef: Shroog.

Justin (clerk): The thing— the only things that I’ve ever done in my life are get medallions out of this drawer and hand ‘em to people, that’s it.

Montrose: Well then, you should be pretty well equipped to hand over the medallion that you have on your neck right now.

Justin (clerk): I don’t have a medallion. They don’t let me go into any of the rooms. This door in front of me, the one that you just walked in, it’s always unlocked. I’m a fucking sitting duck here. But—

Beef: Hey, it sounds like you hate your job? Have you ever been—

Justin (clerk): I don’t hate my job, I don’t love my job. I nothing my job. I don’t have anything interesting to say or do about my job.

Beef: You are fascinating! We’re gonna come back and talk to you. I can’t get enough of this.

Emerich: I don’t know what you’re gonna talk about in your podcast. What will you talk about in your podcast?

Justin (clerk): People that stay too long in here when there’s nothing for them to do or see!

Beef: Oh yeah, I hate that, man! I hate when people do that.

Montrose: I just, I—

Beef: I’d listen. I’d listen to your podcast.

Montrose: I’m updating my speed dial on my phone, and my emergency contact at the hospital, to Justin and Shroog.

Justin (clerk): I can’t leave! I can’t leave this room, I’ve never left.

Montrose: The door’s unlocked.

Justin (clerk): [chuckles] I’ve never left this room.

Montrose: The door is unlocked, though.

Justin (clerk): I was born in this room, I’m terrified to leave.

Beef: Oh, come with us!

Justin (clerk): No.

Montrose: Come with us? We’re having a—

Justin (clerk): [laughs] I’ll never leave! I’ll never leave this room.

Travis: Justin, I pick up Justin and I carry him out the door with us.

Justin: [chuckles] The second you touch Justin—

Montrose: [chants] Justin, Justin, Justin!

Justin: [laughs] The second you touch Justin, you’re electrocuted, for level one harm.

Travis: And I punch Justin.

Justin: Okay?

Griffin: Yeah, let’s kick his ass!

Justin: Okay, you take a swing at Justin. And you’re… he—[chuckles] Your fist lands squarely against his jaw and he is knocked out. It is a beautiful punch. But it isn’t until this exact moment that you see the camera directly behind Justin that starts— [Griffin giggles] And you noticed it’s turned directly at you. And you start to hear the phone on Justin’s desk ringing.

Travis: I pick it up.

Montrose: Real quick, Weekend at Bernie's. We’ve practiced for this. We have practiced this!

Griffin: I put an arm under Justin’s armpit.

Justin in Security: Hi, this is Justin in security. Is everything okay over there? ‘Cause it looked like Justin got punched out or something—

Beef: No, he wanted to learn about stage combat, and I was showing him how to do a punch. He’s here, though. Say hi, Justin!

Clint: I’ll wave his arm. I got a hold of his arm and I wave it from behind him.

(ep 22)

Justin: Dad, here’s what I want for you to do. I want you to roll a sway. And this sway roll is going to be convincing this unnamed gentleman… who I’m going to call…

Travis: Oh, I can't wait.

Griffin: This is gonna be good!

Travis: Brace your asses, everybody!

Justin: Justin.

Travis: Nice.

Griffin: God damn it.

Justin: And—[chuckles] I want you to try to convince Justin for the tier of work that you are ready for.

Justin (Host): What do you— hey, I know you’ve been out of the game for a while.

Emerich: Yes?

Justin (Host): Where are you at right now, skills wise, Emerich?

Emerich: I am really at the top of my game.

Justin (Host): Wow. Wow. Huge stuff, huge stuff. We can all agree, right? Huge stuff.

Griffin: [in silly voice] “Huge stuff, boss!”

Emerich: And if I’m able to sway you, I will demonstrate this projection to you, so you can see.

Justin (Host): You know, it’s so rare people just openly say that they’re attempting to sway you. I appreciate your forthrightness.

Emerich: Well…

Justin: Wow.

Clint: Whoo!

Justin: Great job, dad. Great job.

Clint: Now wait, is that Justin or Justin telling me great job?

Travis: Woah…

Justin: That was Justin.

Griffin: Yeah, this guy’s not your dad in game.

Justin (Host): Hey, you did a great job.

Emerich: Thank you, son.

Justin (Host): I’m really proud of you.

Travis: Now, that was Justin.

Griffin: [chuckles]

Justin: That was Justin.

Travis: Okay.

Justin: [chuckles]

Justin (Host): Okay…

Emerich: Well, Scott, I would like you to meet Justin, who is not my son.

Travis: It’s weird, people don’t often clarify that as much as they should.

Griffin: Yeah, I appreciate it.

Travis: When I’m introduced to people all the time, I’m not told whether or not they’re their son.

Griffin: Yeah.

Scott: Hey, I’m Scott Boldflex, and I’m just realizing I only have one voice for real guys-guys.

Griffin: [chuckles]

Scott: You know, it’s just this one. One voice for guys-guys. Guys that are more guys than me. And I just have this one voice for guys. You know, guys—

Clint: And I recall Scott. I recall Scott into the Give a Ghost Projector.

Justin: Thank fuck. [chuckles]

Justin (Host): That is really impressive!

Clint: No, I said I recalled Scott.

Justin: [chuckles] Fuck off, Dad.

Griffin: [laughs]

Justin: Eat shit forever. [chuckles]

(ep 30)

Justin: The doors open. And you hear the speakers come on again.

Funnyman: And now it’s time for you to [laughs]

Montrose: Go ahead, Funnyman. No, don’t crack yourself up.

Funnyman: And now it’s time for you to face my – one of my most devious, most devious henchmen. Get ready [laughs] Get ready to meet a middle aged man with a paring knife!

Knife Justin: Oh hey. Oh hey, guys.

Beef: Hey, man.

Knife Justin: Welcome to my floor. I guess.

Beef: Are you evil?

Knife Justin: Um. I mean, nobody thinks they are, right?

Beef: Oh wow.

Knife Justin: But I mean I am working [sound] I am working for Funnyman. I guess he’s not the – the best guy, but I mean—

Beef: Well, in this economy…

Knife Justin: If you follow the ladder far enough. I mean, even if you buy fucking salad dressing, Black Rock owns it. You know?

Beef: Yeah.

Knife Justin: So if you follow the chain, it hard to say are any of us evil or good, but I mean, I don’t know. I do have a paring knife, and he told me to try to – I mean, stab you.

Knife Justin: Well, I’m not gonna put the knife down. I mean, that’s—

Beef: Ok try to stab me. Try to stab me.

Knife Justin: You sure?

Beef: Yeah.

Justin: Alright, Travis. You see him. He’s gonna go Norman Bates, like, he rears back with his hand over. He’s gonna go—

Montrose: No, no, that’s – That ain’t. That’s not proper stabbing.

[overlapping voices]

Beef: No, no, no, no. Do underhand. You’re going for the gut, man, what are you doing?

Knife Justin: Oh, ok.

Emerich: This is a paring knife!

Knife Justin: I’ve never actually…

Emerich: You know—

Beef: Yeah, don’t go for like –

Knife Justin: So you go for the— Go for the gut?

Beef: What are you – stabbing me in the top of the head? Yeah, man, you’re trying to chu-chu-choo, ya know?

Emerich: Are you left handed or right handed?

Knife Justin: I’m left – I’m a lefty. Should I be using my dominant—

Montrose: You’re holding it in your right hand. What are you doing?

Emerich: Yeah, it’s in your right hand.

Knife Justin: You guys are being so cool about this. Thank you very much. I really appreciate it.

Beef: We wanna give you a chance.

Travis: I slap him again.

Knife Justin: AH FUCK!

Justin: So, he, uh [laughs] I don’t even think you have to roll for this, Travis. He just – He goes to stab you, and he does! And he stabs you in the stomach. And you can see his eyes, like, pop out, and the knife’s like buried in you, and you don’t seem to be daunted by it at all. And he pulls the knife out. And he’s kinda looking at you to see if you’re gonna do anything.

Beef: Ok, so now’s the part where I get to, like, either seriously hurt you, or can just, like, give me the knife.

Knife Justin: Oh! Uh, yeah. I mean, here. You can have it. I’m—This is what he told – I only had to stab you guys, so…

Beef: Ok. Now [overlapping]

Montrose: And how did that feel?

Beef: Good question!

Knife Justin: Can I, Can I be honest? I think I’m gonna go to, like, a night school or community college or something. I don’t think career wise this is for me.

Montrose: What’s your name there, bono?

Knife Justin: What?

Montrose: What’s your name?

Knife Justin: Justin.

[katyspersonal]

I forget which item, but I do recall it's mentioned somewhere that giants were often causing local natural disasters (possibly due to their ongoing beef with ice-drakes). Just something to REALLY kick Marika's paranoia into high gear in short order, than "just" the potential. Especially if the giants had the bad luck to cause one right at the worst timing and now she is Convinced she needs them all dead.

You are correct! It is hard to keep all like 6000+ items in mind fdhfdhs But you must have thought of Roar Medallion!

Additionally, one of the messages Melina passes in Marika's own words about it, says: "Hark, brave warriors. Hark, my lord Godfrey. We commend your deeds. Guidance hath delivered ye through each ordeal, to the place ye stand. Put the Giants to the sword, and confine the flame atop the mount. Let a new epoch begin. An epoch glistening with life. Brandish the Elden Ring, for the Age of the Erdtree!"

Their God is called 'evil' and 'fell', and it might as well be just what he is rather than a rumour :p Not to mention that the Hornsent as well feared him:

[markantonys]

obvious element of a potential mat-in-tanchico storyline that i forgot about until just now: his connection with liandrin! at the place where s2 left off, it doesn't feel like a major loose end or anything so i think mat could never see her again and it would be completely fine, but it would also be very neat to see that dynamic return IF he does go to tanchico (as always, we don't know how accurate leaks ever are, so grain of salt, etc).

especially if min is in tanchico too and she and mat and liandrin are ALL there, then mat could get some closure on that whole situation, and min could rebuild her friendship with him, maybe by helping him, nynaeve, and elayne take liandrin down. on the other hand, given rafe's comments about s3 being "a closer adaptation" of the books, idk how likely it would be for them to continue mat's made-up-for-s2 story with min & liandrin. although, his relationship with min IS important in later books but just never got developed in early ones, and his relationship with liandrin is a great Specific Stand-In for his general mistrust of aes sedai in the books (which may be particularly relevant in s3 if he acquires his medallion), so i wouldn't object to those dynamics being folded into his s3 storyline (esp given that mat doesn't have a big TSR storyline the way rand & perrin & nynaeve do; aside from his doorway trips he's kinda just a sidekick in rand's story, so i can see how he might potentially have more to do in tanchico than in the waste, as long as he meets back up with rand in s4 for his storyline of forming the band and starting to come into his own as a general).

anyway, liandrin would also provide mat a motive for joining the tanchico trip in the first place because if the reason nynaeve and elayne go is that they hear liandrin is up to some shit, then mat will be like "well i've got a bone to pick with her too, so count me in." obsessed with the idea of liandrin chilling in tanchico and then a bunch of youths who have beef with her roll up to beat her up. Study Finds Reaping #1 Cause Of Death Among Those Who Sow.

[two-red-lungs]

Pick Your Poison

Paul/Fem!Reader

Content: Slow burn, stoner!Paul, he’s the Drugs Guy and I love him, unresolved tension, the Lost Boys are SO toxic

Word Count: 2.9k

The neon sign in Saigon Soul’s window hummed, luminous and red, casting vermillion’s feather-soft hue across the rapidly cooling colors of the night. The last rays of the sun had faded less than an hour ago: but as soon as they did, like clockwork, your new favorite entertainment emerged. Just like he did every night. A reverse Cinderella.

Red looked good on Paul. It haloed his product-stiff blonde mane in a ruby glow and glittered like pomegranate seeds in a marching line down his gilded row of medallions. Turned his off-white eyes and teeth pink, too. He huffed, smacking his lips obnoxiously in an effort to puff away the heat of his extra-spicy beef noodle pho, flapping his hands about. The piles of bracelets on his wrists jangled.

“Fuck me, man. That’s good.” He said in his usual laid-back, loose tone after a gulp of iced tea from his flimsy paper cup. 

“Mmm.” You hummed and picked up a heavy shrimp spring roll with your chopsticks. Maybe it was the thick seaside summer air, or the heavenly deep-fried smells that wafted your way every time the narrow restaurant door opened, but the damn things smelled amazing. “Told ya. This place is a total hole in the wall but their food’s primo.”

“Uh-huh.” He sucked pepper oil off the pad of his thumb and scratched his stubbly cheek contemplatively. Even like this, reeking of sweat and looking like a cat got lost in his hair somewhere, he was so beautiful it was almost ridiculous. Damn those baby blues. “My man Dwayne’s gonna dig on this stuff. He’s one bona fide heat fiend. Eats the fuckin, the… the uh…” He snapped his fingers a few times, brows furrowed in utmost stupefied contemplation. “The little spoons, with the red powder on top, you know—”

“Tamarind candy?”

His face lit up like the sun. Jesus Christ. That smile was a flashbang, a dynamite stick, a stun baton. Made you go all stupid. “Yeah! Yeah, man, the tamarind candy! Gotta get him some of that stuff.”

You looked down at your paper plate of food and worried at the inside of your lip with your teeth. Somewhere down the street dance music was playing. Car lights ghosted over your and your dinnermate, lighting up the strangers that walked by on the sidewalk next to you. It was by all means a perfect night: balmy wind and the distant sound of the boardwalk rides on the air. But Paul bringing up his brother… it sent an uneasy sensation down your spine and you couldn’t quite pin down why. 

Paul had stumbled into your life three weeks ago, completely drunk on the beach. You’d been a good samaritan: held his hair back while he puked, tossed him a bottle of water while he reeled and slurred out that his brothers had dumped his ass for being too intoxicated. But the whole while, he grinned. Like he could enjoy anything. Like no matter what situation life put him in, he’d find some way to have fun. 

He sat by your little bonfire in the grassy dunes and you chatted. You showed him some of your stick-n-poke tats and he’d insisted on getting one himself. And (in a decidedly less good samaritan way) you’d given him one, india ink blackening your fingers and his inner arm skin cold under your fingers. And that’s how you’d gotten to know him, how you’d continued to know him over the last collection of days. Alone, just him. His weird, easily-distractible, impulsive, entertaining self. He mentioned he had three brothers, once or twice, and you took it in stride. 

Then you’d seen him with them. 

He was like an entirely different person. 

Across the sea of beach boardwalk heads you’d spotted him. But it didn’t feel like him. He sat lazily up on a railing surrounded by equally eccentric young men, and they watched the crowd like tigers. Like mad kings looking down on their kingdom. A beautiful young woman passed and they all jeered, whooping and whistling and clapping: even Paul. With an aggression and odd hunger in his eyes you’d never seen before. They all moved in tandem, like wolves, wordlessly communicating in a way that made your skin crawl. 

You left. 

Now he was Paul again tonight: just Paul, the Paul you knew and hoped to god was the real version. The guy who couldn’t talk and chew gum to save his life. The guy who declared a thumb war with you and proceeded to lose six times in a row. The guy who delighted in rocking the sky-glider that slowly trundled over the pier until you were shrieking and clinging to his coat.

Either way, real Paul or not, you were glad you’d yet to meet his family. 

The blonde stretched, yawned, and hopped out of his seat, digging a hand into his dingy riding pants pocket. When you moved to counter, pulling your wallet out of your bag, he uh-uhed you and flapped his own leather-bound one in your face. “Not a chance, girl. Paulie’s good for it.”

You raised your brows. As far as you knew, he was a surf bum with a penchant for partying. No way was he holding down a nine to five to pay for dinner. 

Paul scoffed at your look. “I got a freebie from a real charitable dude.” He flashed the corner of a hundred at you and stuck out his tongue with a smile before wrestling two fives out of his cash-thick wallet. 

“Uh-huh. Someone just… handed you what, looks like… six hundred bucks?”

“He didn’t need ‘em anymore.” Paul didn’t even watch his wallet fall, he just dropped it to the table, flattening the bills to presentability with his fingers. “Try not to miss me, ‘kay?” In a whirl of pungent sea salt and old-timey coattails he was inside the little eatery, the bell on the poster-covered door jingling. 

You idly scratched at the hem of his leather wallet with your thumb nail while you waited. Real charitable dude, huh? You weren’t stupid. Paul was a street fiend. Ran trades and exchanges from the pockets sewn inside his coat with practiced ease, like he was born to sell ditchweed and glass-cut coke to summer-break college students. No doubt that’s where the money came from. Hell, the way he was standing around with his brothers… you wouldn’t be surprised if they were his suppliers. 

Something crunched under the edge of your nail. You brought your thumb to your face. There was a line of red, deep and nearby brown, trapped between the keratin and your skin. Dirt, obviously. 

It was dirt. 

Had to be dirt.

Like a category three hurricane, Paul was back, and before you knew it you were on your feet and moseying down the bustling town avenue. One of his long, lithe arms was draped almost crushingly over your shoulder, holding you to his side. He jingled with every footfall. Golden strands of hair blustered in the corner of your vision and you felt his ribs, pressed against your side, swell and contract with a contented sigh.

Two could play at that overconfident, wild-child game. With a little effort you extracted a pinned arm and shoved it under his coat, grabbing his waist over his mesh top and holding him much in the same way he held you as you jaunted down the avenue. He threw his head back and laughed, his stride never wavering. 

“You kinda got guts, girl.” He cackled into the coastal breeze. 

“So, Paulie.” You ignored his needling, crossing the crosswalk and ambling past seemingly endless pizzerias and cinemas and smoke shops. “Level with your good, kind, very honest and transparent friend. How many acid tabs did you sling to get that sorta funding?”

Paule shook your shoulder with a strong hand. “Wasn’t lyin’ to you, c’mon. I really did get that green for free.” The walk sign nearby turned from stop to go and you crossed another street. “Me and my brothers, we got ways, y’know? Not gonna be strapped for cash any time soon.”

Sometimes, when Paul looked at you just right, you thought your damn heart was gonna beat out of your chest. Like he saw right through the bullshit into your soul. But other times, times like now, you realized just how little you actually knew the guy. 

“I got ‘bout an hour before I gotta jet, girl.” Paul started talking again and you blinked: you’d arrived in front of the bulb-studded Casino Arcade arched entrance at the boardwalk without even noticing it. When you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you, eyes crinkled in kiddish mischief. “You down for a puff ‘n play?”

“Just an hour?” You mockingly pouted, extracting yourself from him and crossing your arms broodingly in the small ever-flowing crowd of young adults going in and out of the noisy arcade. “Geez, Paul. What am I, a time-killer till you can go have real fun?”

He laughed and there was a bark to it. “If you could handle real fun I’d take you with me.” A little of his usual spaced-out bliss receded. “But I, uh. Don’t really think the guys would appreciate a plus one at our… parties.”

“Wow.” You deadpanned. “Not vague and condescending at all.” With a conceding huff you punched his shoulder playfully, making his body rock like an inflatable car-sale mascot. “Fine, blondie. I’m game.” Paul was grinning from ear to ear and dragged you by the sleeve off to the underside of the pier, fishing around in his inside pockets. “But none of that skunkweed, you hear me? And if I kick your butt at Speedway again you gotta gimme your ring like you promised last time!”

He stopped short so quickly you nearly collided with his tall, narrow back. Paul whirled around. “Yeah? What do I get if I win?”

You were very acutely aware of how close he was standing, nearly chest-to-chest, and how the shadow-painted back side of the arcade by the barnacle-stippled pier was much less crowded than the arcade. You swallowed and his sharp, playful gaze tracked the motion of your throat reflexively. “It’s— augh, um— mystery prize. Can’t tell you what it is till you win. Which you won’t.”

He was silent for a few seconds, sucking on the inside of his cheek. Thinking. Then he grinned. “Alright.” He flicked a lighter across his knuckles and pressed the button down. The little firelight flickered wildly in the turbulent air. “Let’s get toasted.”

Sitting down in the shadow-dark sand between the pier legs, watching him roll a joint right then and there on his narrow knee, you reeled. Sometimes you really couldn’t tell what his deal was. Were you a time-killer? A listening ear? A friend? The way he looked at you, sometimes— it didn’t feel friendly.

If it was good or bad, though… the jury was still out on that one. 

So. It wasn’t skunkweed.

It was nice and palatable and bright. Absolutely top-shelf stuff he was handing out to you pro-bono. The world was a delicious blur: arcade lights were multihued and the speaker music was pop-y and completely grooveable. Your skin prickled in the hot interior air: fabric just felt better after a few puffs. And god, Paul was the funniest, weirdest, most oddly endearing beanstalk of a man when he was on the stuff. 

He had his forehead pressed so hard to the claw machine it was going to leave a red halo: he beat the side with his fist and howled in breathy, entertained frustration when the wimpy claw let the neon green monkey plush slip from its grasp under your careful joystick management. “Ahh, you dropped it again! Unbelievable!”

“It’s not exactly made to be easy, doofus! I’d like to see you try.” You half-chuckled, half-grumbled, feeding the hungry quarter slot more change. You missed the slot a few times before you succeeded. 

Paul reeled back and rounded the machine like a big cat, waving jingly arms. “You’re an amateur, girl. Let a pro show ya how it’s done.” 

You assumed he’d push you out of the way: god knows he'd done it before. But no, of course now he decided to act exactly like the Paul you’d come to know. He pressed up behind you, chin tickling the crown of your head, and put a hand over yours on the joystick when the machine popped back to life, revitalized by the loose change. It chirped out a happy eight-bit tune and Paul hummed along to it, guiding the claw around and back. His fingers were cool over yours. You could feel his belt buckle biting into your back over your shirt. 

You held very, very still, mouth pressed into a thin line. He jammed the drop button. The claw lowered, clamped over the green monkey, and hauled it over to the prize chute. It dropped it without a hitch: the plush clunked into the deposit receptacle.

Paul’s mouth was behind your ear, cold breath on the shell of it. “See? Pro.”

Then he was gone, crouching like an animal by the chute and wrestling the monkey free, and god you were reeling again: collecting your very high nerves with hands still clutching the sweating joystick plastic. 

“What’s my prize?”

“...Huh?” 

Paul doubled down, resting his weight against the Blasteroids arcade machine and wiggling the monkey at you. “I won. What’s my mystery prize, hmm?”

You collected yourself enough, finally. At least enough to scoff dismissively. “Please, I basically wiped the floor with you in Speedway and Super Mario—”

“You can’t argue with evidence, girl.” When you lunged to snatch the green ‘evidence’ out of his grip he reached upwards with it, holding it over your head mockingly, a cheshire smile on his face. “Cough it up. I want my prize.”

You jumped for the monkey and it went even higher. Grumbling and hopping and face starting to grow very flushed with an ‘I don’t have a fucking mystery prize’ panic, you rambled and cajoled at him, flipping between wheedling and threatening. It took you about fifteen seconds to realize he was no longer staring down at you, but rather over your head. 

“Paul.” A laid-back, low male voice said evenly from behind you. 

An icy knot formed in your stomach. You turned, slow as a glacier, and yep, it was exactly what you thought it was. Two of the brothers you’d spied the blonde hanging out with before. The tall, dark, and brooding one, and the peroxide-spiked trench coat model.

The latter lifted his eyebrows at you when he caught you staring. A tight, cold smile graced his lips for a moment before he turned his cutting gaze back to his brother. “Thought we all agreed to be at the statue by ten. We missed you.” His eyes slide back to you. “Who’s your friend?”

You stood as tall as you could in the given circumstances, feeling rather like a park ranger making himself as big as possible to frighten off a bear. An introduction was on the tip of your tongue. It got knocked off of it when Paul abruptly elbowed past you, shoulder-checking you hard enough to offset your balance. When he stood by his brothers, he looked exactly in place. Like he was meant to be there. 

He glanced down his nose at you. There was a different sort of smile on his face. An insider smile. One you didn’t feel like was for you. “Just some chick, David. Y’know how it is. Where’s Marko?”

“Scoping out dinner. Probably waiting on us, now.”

“Shit man, then let’s go!” Paul crowed, snapping his fingers and grinning, tongue trapped between his teeth. “I’m starvin’.”

The whole while they talked, the tall, dark-haired one watched you with crossed arms. Taking in the way your face shifted, the confused, hurt pinch in your brow. The pac-man machine illuminated half his face, like a skull of amber-yellow. You caught his eye. The intensity of his gaze forced yours down to the multicolored carpet. 

“After you.” David gestured broadly with a gloved hand towards the arcade entrance, and Paul flounced towards it without so much as a goodbye or a sparing glance in your direction, even after an entire evening together. David looked at the dark-haired one. “Dwayne. Time to roll.”

A long-drawn out pause. You refused to look up. 

“...Comin’.” Dwayne eventually said. The trio disappeared between arcade machines, tops of their heads barely visible, then vanished into the crowded Santa Carla night. 

The green monkey was abandoned on the floor, limbs splayed. You picked it up, its glassy plastic eyes blankly reflecting the arcade lights. Like it was mocking you for being there, alone, after that. 

“Fucking asshole.” You breathed in disbelief to yourself. Far more hurt than you thought you’d be. You’d hung out with him for what, six days, tops? Were you even friends? Was he not just some nighttime stranger, a weirdo who emerged from the woodwork to show you a good time once in a while? Paul was good. Paul was fun. He was a fat blunt and a shot of tequila and a roller-coaster ride all wrapped up into one person. 

You’d picked him as your poison of preference. It was a good poison. Now you were starting to wonder if you’d picked wrong. 

[jtargaryen18]

How I Disappeared...

How I Disappeared Act 2

Masterlist

Words: 4.7k

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: Dark fic. References to murder, explicit sex, non-con, oral (m/r), kidnapping, threesomes, drugging.

Relationships: Lloyd Hansen x Reader x Ransom Drysdale

Summary: You're delivered to a house on the outskirts of Boston. Would they kill you for what you know? Or...

_________________________________

By the time Lloyd Hansen had his driver take you to a heavily wooded area on the outskirts of Boston, you knew you were going to die. Even when the elegant home with its sheer glass walls came into view, you felt sick. You mentally prepared yourself for death.

He couldn’t let you live. Not with everything you saw in Ransom Drysdale’s office.

Blinking back tears, you didn’t fight when one of his armed men pulled you out of the back of the SUV. Would they drag you out into the woods and shoot you in the back of the head? Would anyone ever find you? Know what happened to you?

But you weren’t dragged into the woods and shot. You were roughly escorted into that house with its many glass panels. You were shown to a spacious bedroom and locked in there. The same armed man stayed outside the door.

Sitting on the end of that huge bed for a few minutes, you let the tears come. Just because they hadn’t killed you yet didn’t mean it wasn’t coming. Lloyd had already taken what he wanted from you.

You didn't know exactly where you were. One of the bedroom walls was a glass panel, offering a beautiful view of the forest. That tranquil view, as the minutes ticked by, did little to calm your nerves.

You found an enormous connected bathroom. You relieved yourself, washed your hands. When you looked in the mirror, you saw a fucking wreck. The makeup you’d carefully applied was streaked and ruined from your tears. Your eyes looked haunted to you as you stared. What was left of your dress looked like it had been through a woodchipper beneath the heavy camel-colored coat.

The coat belonged to Ransom. You recognized the scent of his cologne.

You didn’t know how long Lloyd planned to keep you there or what your fate would be. There were no photos or obvious personal items in the bedroom. At first, you thought it might be empty. But as you checked the drawers of the dresser, you found belongings. Casual men’s clothing and accessories were neatly stored. The closet was filled with more formal wear and all types of shoes. It was someone’s bedroom.

Lloyd Hansen kept your panties and you hadn’t worn a bra beneath the summer dress. You found a man’s t-shirt and it was big enough to swallow you. But it would work. You showered, trying to wash Lloyd off you. Dressing in the t-shirt made you feel slightly better. Cleaner. You thought about putting the coat back on over it, but it was too warm. The dark red bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door was much lighter and more comfortable.

You’d just returned to the end of the bed, watching the woods grow dark beyond that glass wall when the door opened. The man who’d been outside your room walked in carrying a tray of food. Without speaking, he handed it to you and walked right back out.

You were hungry. The beef medallions were as delicious as they looked served with potato soup, asparagus, and a nice salad. It felt like a meal you’d be served in a Michelin-starred restaurant. There was a tall glass of water served with it along with a glass of dark red wine.

You avoided the wine until you finished your meal, telling yourself it would be better to keep a clear head. But as the night gathered outside, and you remained there alone, you changed your mind. It didn’t matter if you drank the wine or not. Even entirely sober, you had zero chance of holding your own with any of these men. Maybe the wine would dull your senses as you faced whatever end.

Within moments of finishing that glass, you did feel calmer. You felt… better. Maybe everything would be okay. You were able to put aside the anxiety and fatigue you felt from the harrowing day, just like the borrowed coat you’d removed. Your body still ached in delicate places from Lloyd’s rough treatment but even that discomfort eased.

 You wouldn’t have minded having more of that.

When the door opened again, your heart lurched in hope to see Ransom Drysdale. It must have shown on your face because he smiled, making his way over to you on the bed. When he sat next to you, you threw your arms around his neck. Somehow, he found you. Was he saving you? Why had you ever been wary of him before?

Slowly, his arms closed around you. He felt warm and solid. He smelled good. He always smelled so good.

“You found me,” you whispered in the quiet of the room. His hands smoothed over your back as you held onto him.

Ransom Drysdale chuckled. “I found you.”

The son of your current boss eased back. The deep maroon of his silk tie made his blue eyes really stand out, its color very close to the bathrobe you wore.

Ransom smiled. ‘You’ve had a big day, haven’t you?”

You had. You told him all about it, being excited about your meeting with him. You explained getting there early and the dress you’d bought for the occasion.

Ransom shook his head. “How did you end up in the closet?”

The fight had started outside his office, you explained. It was loud enough that by the time the men struggling burst through the door, you’d fled into the coat closet and tried to stay quiet. You told him you’d really been too scared to pay a lot of attention to what was being said or to even think about why it was happening.

His smile faded as he listened, his long fingers toying with the hem of the bathrobe you wore. When he peeled it back to reveal your bare knee, you giggled when his fingers traced over your skin. It felt nice.

“But they found you?” Ransom asked.

You paused. Lloyd found you…

Ransom studied you, his fingers tracing a line up your inner thigh. It felt nice but…

“How did you know I was in the closet?” It just occurred to you. You didn’t mention that part in your story until after he asked you.

Ransom’s grin widened. “What did Lloyd do to you?”

Throwing his hand off you, you scooted back on the bed. Away from him. Humiliation crept in, trying to ruin your buzz.

Chuckling, Ransom stripped off the suit coat he wore and tossed it away, moving closer. “Oh, come on. You were just getting to the part of the story I was really interested in.”

Shaking your head, you realized you should be upset right now. Ransom knew you were in the closet? Why did he want to hear about that? You tried to be angry, to be scared. But the feelings were buried beneath a layer of euphoria. In a strange way, it felt like you were watching the entire scene but not actually in it.

That made no sense. You’d just had one glass of wine. Right?

“I can see you’re working really hard on an answer,” Ransom told you, moving closer. His hands went for his tie, undoing it. “It must have been good.”

How did Ransom know what happened? You inched back, the headboard behind you.

You didn’t know what was going on here. But you were starting to think…

With more energy than you thought you had, you bounded off the bed. Avoiding Ransom’s half-hearted reach, you dashed to the door. Your heart swelled in hope when the doorknob turned, and the door opened.

Without thinking your flung yourself forward, out the door. You were stunned when you collided with something hard. The deep chuckle was familiar. Arms strong as steel wrapped around you.

“Where you going, cupcake?” Lloyd asked and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You put up a fight, you felt stronger. It wasn’t much. Lloyd was easily able to carry you back into that bedroom, kick the door shut with his foot. He carried you right back over to the huge bed.

Ransom’s tie hung loosely from his dress shirt, his fingers plucking open the buttons as his gaze roamed over you. “I thought you were supposed to be the scary one, Lloyd.”

“Maybe not,” was all Lloyd said as he tossed you onto the middle of that huge bed. Grabbing the end of the bathrobe, Lloyd worked at pulling it off you. You fought him, trying to hang onto it. But Lloyd moved so fast.

You also didn’t realize in your efforts, the t-shirt that was the only thing you were wearing had ridden up to your waist. Ransom’s heated gaze was on everything that shirt no longer covered. He shook his head.

“Asshole,” he grumbled at Lloyd. “Look at that stache rash.”

Lloyd laughed, standing next to the bed, and dropping the robe to the floor. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

Grabbing the hem, you pulled the shirt down over your hips.

Lloyd pulled off his shoes before climbing up on the bed after you. “Don’t be like that, cupcake. I treated you nice, didn’t I?”

You tried to scramble away from Lloyd, but he caught you, grabbing you around the waist and rolling you on your back. Easily his hands collared your wrists as he loomed over you.

“Didn’t I?” he whispered against your lips.

Lloyd’s mouth claimed yours with surprising softness, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen the kiss. The brush of that mustache tickled as his lips danced with yours. You forgot to fight him, the tingles that kiss gave you brought back that euphoric feeling.

The bed dipped at your feet and another pair of hands slid over your thighs. You jerked in surprise, breaking the kiss. Lloyd pulled back to gaze into your eyes.

“Look at those pupils,” Lloyd mused. “How much of that shit did you give her?”

Ransom entered your field of vision, his gaze on you too.

“Just a little,” Ransom said. “To take the edge off.”

“If you need to slip a girl something to take the edge off,” Lloyd taunted him, “how good could you be?”

Ransom shot him a glare.

“What I do can’t be taught,” Lloyd assured him. Turning his attention to you, Lloyd grinned. “What do you think, cupcake? Want to see what he can do?”

Someone, you didn’t know who, was caressing your thighs. That felt nice, didn’t it?

But he was the son of your boss, Mrs. Drysdale. Yeah, you remembered Lloyd telling you what Ransom wanted out of the meeting. Deep down, you knew Ransom wasn’t helping you to be kind.

There was also the matter of what you saw while you were in the closet. Fear sharp enough to pierce the pleasant bubble you were in rose fast.

“What happens after?” Your gaze was on Ransom now. You told him everything.

Ransom stretched out next to you, propping his head on one hand as the other smoothed up your inner thigh, his fingers sliding into the heated cove between them. His touch was light, his fingers sliding around those swollen outer petals.

“That depends on you.” A smile played about Ransom’s lips as his fingers explored you. “You going to be a good girl for us?”

Lloyd held your wrists to the bed while your foggy mind scrambled around those words. His grip was firm but didn’t hurt.

Us? Did he mean…

Amusement lit up Ransom’s eyes when you finally grasped what he meant. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Two men at once?”

Your thighs clenched around his seeking hand like you could stop him. You tensed up. Your body was still sore from what Lloyd did to you earlier. And they both wanted to… Now?

“I’m a… little sore,” you said quietly, humiliation burning you from the inside out.

Again, Ransom glared at Lloyd. “Can’t think why.”

“We’ll start slow,” Lloyd explained. “Work up to it.”

Worry still gnawed at you but at least no one had talked about killing you yet.

Lloyd’s hands tightened around your wrists, getting your attention. “You be good for me like you were earlier, and we’ll treat you nice. Make one move I don’t like, and you won’t enjoy this very much, cupcake. You understand?”

You didn’t hesitate to nod. You remembered hearing that man’s screams from the closet. You didn’t want to think what he could do to you. If it meant you would live and they wouldn’t hurt you, you’d do what they wanted.

“See how easy that was?” Lloyd released your wrists. “Now, climb off the bed and sit on the floor. On your knees.”

Scooting past them to the side of the bed, you did as you were told. Climbing off the bed, you lowered yourself onto the soft carpeting, on your knees.

Ransom grinned at you. “I like this idea.”

As he got off the bed, he pulled his dress shirt free of his slacks, but didn’t remove it. He approached and stopped right in front of you. His hands worked to open the fine leather belt, the front of his slacks. He wore nothing beneath, the scent of him musky and warm as he took his cock in hand, stroking it.

“You know what to do,” Ransom told you, pointing it at your mouth.

“Remember what I said,” Lloyd warned, standing somewhere behind you now.

Oh, you wouldn’t forget.

You pressed a kiss to the swollen head of Ransom’s cock, liking how warm and soft it was. You did it again, swiping at it with your tongue this time, tasting the salt of his skin. You were careful in wrapping your lips around the head of him, keeping your teeth away.

“That’s it,” Ransom encouraged you, “get me wet.”

Carefully, you brought your hand up to replace his and he allowed it. You teased him with your tongue, working him further into your mouth carefully, working the base with your hand. When his fingers slid into your hair, you sped up a little. By the time you’d worked most of him into your mouth, his hands on your head were guiding your movements.

“That feels nice, baby,” Ransom’s voice sounded a little winded. “Just a little bit more.”

Ransom started fucking your face, the head of him hitting the back of your throat. You gagged and sputtered but you kept your mouth open, kept your lips wrapped around your teeth. A chorus of guttural moans came from Ransom as he sped up. But his thrusts weren’t too hard. He wasn’t trying to choke you.

You felt Lloyd sitting on the floor behind you, pressing up against your back. Large hands slid around your body as you drooled all over Ransom’s cock. Lloyd’s hands played with your breasts, the only barrier between them and his hands was the thin t-shirt you wore.

“You’re doing so well,” Lloyd purred in your ear while Ransom kept thrusting himself between your lips. “It looks like you’re really good at that.”

His voice made you shiver as his hands moved down your body. His rough hands yanked up the hem of your t-shirt before his fingers delved into your folds. The slightest tinge of soreness had you jerking to his touch.

The move allowed Ransom just a tiny bit further into your throat. His cry above you was a gorgeous sound.

“This is working you up, isn’t it?” Lloyd whispered, his fingers sliding easily over your clit, teasing that throbbing nub. “You enjoy having a cock in your mouth. Cupcake, you are such a surprise.”

Ransom abruptly pulled back from you, leaving you staring up at him with your mouth open. Impatiently, he dropped onto the floor with you, grabbing you and facing you away from him. You were on all fours as Ransom positioned himself behind you, roughly beginning to push into you.

“Hey,” Lloyd’s voice was pure warning. “Easy.”

When you looked up at the man who’d claimed you earlier, you saw he’d stripped off his shirt. As Ransom worked his cock into you, a bit more carefully than he’d started out, your gaze took in Lloyd’s heavily muscled torso, littered with scars and tattoos.

With a careful hand at your jaw, Lloyd urged you to tip your face up, to meet his gaze. And his eyes showed surprising concern.

“Okay?” he asked in a low voice as Ransom slid in as far as he could go, making you gasp.

You focused on breathing as Ransom started thrusting, his grip on your hips tight. He wasn’t as wide as Lloyd, but he was longer, spearing into you with enthusiasm. When you focused again on Lloyd, you managed a nod.

Getting down on your level, Lloyd kissed you again while you were being railed by Ransom. The careful dance of his lips was a contrast to the way Ransom feverishly went at you. It took your breath away for long seconds.

When the kiss ended, Lloyd rose above you. His hands opened his slacks and as Ransom had done, he took himself out and pointed himself at your lips. His voice was a deep rumble above you.

“Show me how good you are,” Lloyd bid you.

You did your best. You tried to take him slowly, but it wasn’t easy with Ransom’s thrusts pushing you forward. Lloyd slid towards the back of your throat before you were ready. But you made it work, teasing him with your tongue as he slid back and forth between your lips. One of his hands anchored in your hair as they pushed and pulled you between them in an erotic dance.

“Fuck,” Ransom muttered. “Someone likes it on the spit…” Leaning over your back, Ransom’s lips were at your ear. “You like this? Taking both of us from both ends?”

His chuckle at the way your body pulsed at his words lit you up in humiliation. You shouldn’t be so excited, you knew. You were trying to make them happy. Trying to stay alive. Every emotion that should be on the surface though was pushed down, buried. Fear, humiliation, dignity – all of them were locked away inside you, trapped by a layer of demand and euphoria. The only emotion that connected it all was guilt. And tonight, guilt was like that drunk friend who had no business giving you advice.

 When Ransom sped up, his grip taking on an edge of pain, you cringed because you knew he was close. At the last second, he pulled out, his come drizzling over your ass. Lloyd’s invasion of your mouth continued. Ransom’s cries were breathy, filling the room as he rode out his release.

While your boss’s son sat on the floor watching, his breath ragged, Lloyd continued in measured movements. The hand gripping your hair slid down the back of your head, down your back to your ass. You gasped around him when his fingers slid down into the wet flesh Ransom vacated.

The sobbing sound you pulled from Lloyd made you happy.

Pulling himself off the floor, Ransom tucked himself back into his slacks and stumbled for the bedroom door.

“M’getting a drink,” he told you. “Want anything?”

“Vodka, neat,” Lloyd managed as you continued taking him with your mouth.

The minute the door was closed, Lloyd pulled back, looking way too pleased with the line of drool connecting your lower lip to the swollen head of his cock.

“He didn’t take very good care of you, now did he?” Lloyd asked.

You froze. What did he mean?

Grabbing your chin, he made you look up at him again. “You want to come, don’t you?”

What do I say to that?

No.

“Yes,” you whispered.

His lips curved beneath that mustache. His hands moved fast as they grabbed your t-shirt and stripped it off you. He used it to wipe off Ransom’s spend and tossed it away.

Then, as if you weighed nothing, Lloyd caught you about the waist and pulled you over him. Worked up as you were, you slid down easily enough on his erection. Your thighs wrapped around his slim hips as he anchored you both on his knees on the carpet.

You were chest to chest, your breasts crushed into his solid wall of muscle, with his hands holding your ass. You’d just managed to wrap your arms around his neck, your wet channel clamping around his cock, when he stilled. He bit your lower lip to get your attention.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

Lloyd didn’t wait for an answer. His hands guided you to move up and down on him. It was closer to the truth to say he was bouncing you up and down on his cock. You liked how he felt better than Ransom, the way he stretched your inner walls as he thrust up into your core. You liked watching all those muscles work as he moved you just how he wanted. You liked the way his sweat-slick skin felt under your fingers, the way his mustache bristled against your nipples before his lips and tongue made it better.

Something he did with his teeth and tongue at your breasts had you breaking out in a sweat as he fucked you. You were clamping around him, whimpering as you tried to move with him. Lloyd noticed, grinning around one of your nipples.

“Ready to come for me, beautiful?” Lloyd asked, his heated blue eyes lit up in lust as he watched you.

You nodded. You were beyond speech at this point.

“You didn’t come for Ransom,” he stretched up to murmur in your ear. “It’s my dick you want, isn’t it?”

How did you answer that? You shouldn’t want either one of them.

“Didn’t you?” Lloyd’s thrusts sped up, hitting harder. It took your breath away, sensations swelling in you.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Lloyd doubled down on everything he was doing, and your vision was fading to black as you worked with him, fighting for your release.

“Please,” you managed.

“Please what?”

Your mind scrambled as he fucked you hard now. It was all you could do to hang on, your thighs shaking around him as you pushed down with each upward thrust. What? What did he want you to say?

“Please, Lloyd,” you remembered. “I need to come… so bad.”

The smile that earned you had your heart squeezing in your chest. Lloyd worked you hard on his cock until all that sensation racing through your veins pushed you off the cliff. As the orgasm rocked you, you held onto him, your pussy grabbing him in need. Pressing your face into his neck, your cries were muffled as you worked together, harder and faster.

Lloyd didn’t try to keep quiet as he held on one hard thrust, rutting into you as he came. His eyes were closed as he unloaded into you, his hands holding you tightly in place. His heartbeat was solid and strong against yours as he held you there against him, his breath rushing with yours.

You didn’t expect Lloyd to press a kiss on your forehead. It startled you when he rose from the floor with you and carried you back to the bed. Pulling back the covers, he eased you in and covered you up.

Your sweat-covered skin was cooling, and your muscles ached. The fine linens felt nice against your skin as Lloyd leaned down to press another kiss on your bare shoulder.

“Stay here,” he told you, his eyes searching yours. “I’ll bring you a glass of water.”

Nodding, you said, “Thank you.”

You didn’t know what to do with the look he cut you before pulling his slacks back up, putting himself away as his breathing slowed. Was that kindness?

What, if anything, did it mean for your future?

“Hey.” Lloyd studied you for a moment. “Rest. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You didn't know what to believe. But you were exhausted on every level and your body ached. You watched him pull on his discarded shirt and stroll out of the room, walking like he owned the world. He turned out the overhead light as he did. 

You found comfort in that darkness. Sleep found you.

***

Lloyd found Ransom sprawled on the couch in his living room, flipping through streaming services to find something to watch. The glass of vodka Lloyd requested waited on the coffee table in front of him. Taking a seat on the plush chair next to the couch, he slowly reached for the drink.

Ransom's gaze didn't leave the screen. "You want something."

It wasn't a question. The man he collaborated with often liked to think he could read Lloyd much better than he actually could. Most of the time. This time, Ransom was right. He did want something and he didn't say anything to deny it.

When those cool blue eyes turned on him, Ransom said, "You want the girl."

The vodka burned its way to his stomach and Lloyd grinned. "What gave it away?"

"The fact that she was delivered to the guest room you use when you stay here," Ransom spoke slowly. "She wasn't waiting in my room."

"You like to sleep alone," Lloyd pointed out.

And that wasn't the way Ransom expected the evening to go. It would have gone that way. But Lloyd had decided to fuck with him by having her. What he hadn't counted on was how sweet she was, how good she felt. The way she tasted...

Her doe-eyed innocence and submissiveness were just the icing on top of the perfect little cupcake.

To Ransom, she was just another girl to fill his bed and entertain him for a night or two. Sure, she worked for his mother but that was easily fixed. No one else would really miss her.

There was also the issue of what she may have seen or heard. That's where things got a little complicated with Ransom. The man could be callous in dealing with what he considered "minor problems." That put the girl in his bed at risk. It also meant he was going to have to cash in a favor to protect her. 

And Lloyd would expect something from her for that sacrifice. Just the thought of all the ways she could pay him back had him getting hard again.

"I'm not done with her." Ransom turned his attention back to the screen.

Lloyd accepted that. He'd guessed as much. 

"What are your plans for her when you are?" Lloyd was blunt.

Ransom finished the beer in his hand. "As far as I'm concerned, she just needs to leave a voicemail to quit her job at my mother's real estate firm. I threaten her with video footage and she disappears from my life.

That got his attention. Ransom didn't like loose ends. That meant he'd enjoyed her as much as Lloyd had or he felt something for her. Either scenario gave him a rare bout of jealousy.

"Why do you want her?" Ransom asked. "She's not exactly your type."

Lloyd didn't have an answer at the moment. It didn't happen often. He just knew he wasn't done with her either. And he was conflicted about it. Ransom didn't intend to have her killed. Still, Lloyd didn't like the idea of her being vulnerable and alone in a dangerous world after they both got what they wanted from her.

Not when she was so malleable, so grateful.

"You owe me for dealing with Ryan," Lloyd said. 

Ransom's brows rose as his gaze returned to him. "All you want for that is a piece of ass?"

Taking care of his "Ryan problem" was a big deal. And Lloyd had already decided on some level that she was more than a piece of ass. Still, he nodded. 

Seeming to consider it for a moment, Ransom finally nodded. "I want another go at her. Alone."

Lloyd grinned. "No."

"Afraid she'll be ruined for you when I give her back to you?"

Not at all. 

"Just making sure you don't drug her up again." Lloyd didn't want to examine any other reasons why he didn't want to leave her alone with the other man. Even if he was just there to watch, he would be there.

"Fine." Ransom sighed and went back to watching his game. "Tomorrow."

Draining his glass, Lloyd placed it back on the table. Rising, he headed back to the guest room. To her. 

He had plans to make.

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[just-a-carrot]

hi I'm the breakfast and lunch question person and I have just one more question to ask(sorry if I being annoying) What is the casts favorite dinners?

hfhfhf it's not annoying

Iggy: Salmon or tuna

Genzou: His mom's dumplings

Orlam: Five-course dinner with filet mignon and wine

Gidget: Pasta

Bucks: Grilled bacon-wrapped beef medallions and loaded baked potatoes

[writergracethepanda]

“Not all men” then why is it ONLY men who scream and swear at me while I’m just trying to do my job? And they are always old ass white dudes?

On Tuesday, this old man bought a tiny cup of hummus as part of his meal, and got mad when it didn’t automatically come with pita bread. After I tried to explain that he’d have to put another order in to get it, he swore at me.

A few hours ago, a guy ordered ‘medallion beef’ or something. I was confused, because nothing on our menu is called that. He started yelling at me a spelling out the word beef like I was an idiot, and refused to tell me what he wanted as it is worded on the menu. My manager had to step in and take his order.

Working in the service industry is not fun. I’m begging people to treat us with basic human respect. If not because we are humans, then because we could spit in your food if you don’t. (I’ve never done this, but I know people do.)