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jinkicake · 3 years

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no thoughts just running away in a flowy gown through the streets of Italy from don giorno

((((anon... ANON... okay give me like ten minutes to post my other works and then Imma come back and just dump my entire BRAINROT that I have because of this post WAAIIITTT this is so good,,, you’re.... a genius))))

A/N: Okay..... this is so messy, so rough and I can’t believe I wrote 1.6k words in less than an hour BUT... here you are Anon~~~ a little something based off of your message hehehe it’s lowkey yandere :0 (Also... in part five theyre in naples right? LMFAO i can never remember) Anyway I have an early class tmr so I have to cut it short so this is not editied and -again- very messy,,, I will try to fix it later but for now~~~ here is my take on running away from Giorno LOL

Giorno x Reader

This has lowkey yandere themes...

WC- 1,637

All you want at this moment is to rip your constricting dress off. The thin, pale blue material is suffocating, every layer tightens around your skin and makes it that much harder to run. You’ll do anything to help you free yourself from Giorno’s clutches. And as of right now, you have your foot in the door.

At least, you think you do. Unbeknownst to you, the little ladybug necklace adorning your neck has other thoughts.

It was smart to leave (escape) in the early afternoon, right as your fiancé was in the midst of all of his meetings and when it was most crowded in the streets. You could easily blend in with all the other people, at least until nightfall.

It has become your mission to get as far away from Naples as you can before the moon starts to rise. You quickly found out that is easier said than done.

If only the streets weren’t filled with his men, if only every single person who makes eye contact with you wasn’t on his side.

You knew that the moment Giorno had found out about this, about your betrayal, that there would be dire consequences. Yet again, it was never your intention to allow him to ever find you again.

Given by your own personal estimation, you had about another five minutes before he was alert of your missing status. The guards stationed at your shared apartment change positions every twenty minutes to ensure that not one of them gets any special amount of time with you. The helicopter gaurds hovering over you were such a pain. Too bad you had already disposed of those on stand, it’ll be a quick affair once everyone notices your lack of presence.

“Fuck,” You murmur as your flat, clearly not made for running, catches on one of the cracks in the street. Your chest heaves up and down with each breath as you stare at the unfamiliar crowd trying to pick up on any familiar face. A wave of relief washes over you when you realize that you don’t recognize any of them.

You can do this, you can do this. Start over, somewhere new, somewhere like France or Switzerland. You can escape.

And you truly believed that, you kept running with all of your might and didn’t stop to look back once. After some time, the streets started to mesh together and it felt as if you had started running around in circles. You didn’t have time to worry about that, not as the sun was setting and the streets were starting to clear up. Any leverage, any chance of escape that you had, would be lost if you did not make it out of Naples.

Maybe you could find a bus that would take you up to Rome, then up and the hell away from Italy. Maybe a boat would be quicker, a motorcycle?

All at once, your senses start to close in as you realize that you did not take advantage of your situation. You did not think this through, you saw a chance and you took it. You’ll fight until your last breathe, until Giorno finds you again. There is no way in hell you’re going to let this golden opportunity go to waste.

But, God, had you fucked up. You fucked up, really bad, but deep in your heart you know it was worth every single second.

It doesn’t matter how far or how fast you run now.

The abandoned alleyways tell you everything you need to know, it’s now completely dark outside and late into the night. The streets are cleared, silent, except for the telltale sounds of your shoes lighting pounding into the pavement.

You tightly bunch your hands up in the sides of your dress before pulling the fabric up and running with all of your might. You should have ditched the dress earlier, it was only ever holding you back but it’s not like you had another change of clothes.

Giorno always liked you dressed up.

Almost as if you were his little doll.

A black car stops suddenly at the end of the street, blocking off the entire road and cutting through the silence with a loud screech of its tires. It’s not enough to intimidate you, you still refuse to give up.

Almost too quickly you swiftly turn around, hot on your heels ready to run away, right into a broad chest.

The black suit fills your vision before you can actually see the figure, but you can still feel their presence right away. You’re done for, you’re done for.

“You ruined your pretty dress,” Giorno’s soft face portrays a frown as his eyebrows furrow in disinterest. His light eyes still hold concern only for you. He reaches his hand up to brush the stray strands of hair from your cheeks and you immediately flinch, taking a step back only to bump into something else.

This time you’re almost too scared to turn around, you would much rather face Giorno than the other figure. An unpleasant huff causes you to shakily glance over your shoulder and face Golden Experience Requiem. It’s staring down at you with betrayal deep in its eyes, hands twitching next to your own.

You couldn’t take the stand on even if you wanted to.

You try to move, step away, but the stand is much quicker and grabs your biceps to hold you still. Its pants rest heavily in your ears and you don’t even dare to look up at Giorno who has started pacing in front of you.

You feel so stupid, oh so stupid, the dress is filthy and dirty. Everything is torn at the seams, your shoes are worn down, your hair is flung all over your face, you’re a complete and utter mess.

It only gets worse when you hear the robotic sounds behind you. Still gutted with betrayal, Golden Experience Requiem utters a single word in his polite tone that matches his user’s.

“Why?”

Your eyes slightly widen at this and as a result, the grip on your biceps grows tighter.

“Why? Why?” The mechanic voice demands and you’re nearly shaking beneath its grip. Now, you know why Giorno is so silent. He never loses his composure in front of you, he is always calm and ahead, always one step in front of you. With his stand, however, he can’t help but express all his feelings as he desires.

An apology feels heavy on your tongue because you’re not sorry, you have nothing to apologize for.

“I wanted to go home.” You daringly lift your gaze to look straight at your fiancé, glaring at him as if it could make him disappear.

“Then let’s, we can discuss the matters of this evening there,” Giorno takes a step toward you, and he is beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder as he waits for you to turn around and follow him.

Your stubborn eyes, filled with tears, nearly makes him sigh.

“Please don’t be difficult,” He tries to cup your face but his own stand pulls you tighter into its chest. Golden Experience Requiem has always been so possessive over you and never afraid to show it. Giorno knows that he couldn’t call his stand back even if he tried, not until you were safely in the car.

“I want to go home.” You repeat, too calmly for your current panicked state. A long, cold arm drapes over your chest and you feel your feet start to rise against the hard road beneath you.

The stand is literally dragging you back to the car with no remorse.

And stupidly, you make another mistake.

“Not with you,” At this point, you’re sure you won’t make it out of this experience alive. You keep making it worse and worse for yourself as if you can’t help it.

Giorno stills, and the slight clench of his jaw is enough to have you sprinting back into his car.

“Then with who?” He asks through his teeth, glaring harshly at the side of your face as you continue to look away from him. It’s not enough for him and he tightly grabs your jaw with his hand to force you to look at him. His fingers dig into your cheeks when you still refuse to look at him. “With who, darling?”

No air is flowing through your system. You can’t concentrate on anything, not on the stand behind you tugging on your body possessively or your fiancé holding you just as angrily.

“Myself,” You finally tell him honestly and look up at him, Giorno physically calms down at the sight.

“I can take you there if it means you will stop acting out,” The offer, the bargain, falls short on your ears and a new frown takes up your face.

Giorno is taunting you, teasing you.

You know there is no chance in hell he would let you go home, let you visit the place you miss the most. He knows he’ll never get you back if he does. Giorno is just using this to get you back in the car.

He’s done it once before, and this certainly won’t be the last time he does it either.

“I will bring you there, (Y/N).” He restates and you stubbornly hold your place. “You don’t want to go anymore?” His jaw ticks and you can hear the irritation filling his voice. “It’s so hard to please you,” The tightening grip on your biceps shows his frustration even if he doesn’t physically face you with it. Golden Experience Requiem has you under lock and key, hugging you so tightly that you’re almost gasping for air. “One last chance.”

One last chance to take him up on his pseudo offer, to entertain his twisted fantasy.

This is your split road, lick your fiancé’s wounds or let the gash grow bigger and bigger.

Either way, you’ll end up back at his estate, now all that matters is the punishment waiting back for you.

You can’t find it in yourself to move your legs.

#giorno x reader #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #jjba x you

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timelordthirteen · 3 years

Text

Desperate Souls 4/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: The second meeting goes unexpectedly, once again, as Gold reveals more than he intends.

Notes: Thank you so much for all the comments on this fic. I honestly thought it wouldn't be that well received as this Gold is sort of hard to like in places. I'm really enjoying writing this darker version of him, even if it's hard at times to get into his headspace. Enjoy the first of many Skin Deep references, and a slight tick up towards the ultimate rating of this fic. ;) This is the nightie Belle is wearing. Also omg this is unbeta'd and a hot mess, sorry.

[AO3]

If Belle thought that seeing Mr. Gold in the week leading up to her first evening at his house was awkward, then the week after it was excruciating.

All she could think every time she so much as saw him walking by on the street was he’s seen me in my underwear! It made for several days of fierce blushes and unfinished lunches. Her mind kept replaying the moment when she’d turned around to face him again, and he’d let the softest, quietest lovely slip out. She still hadn’t figured out if he’d even meant to say it out loud. It was hard to believe that seeing her in a glorified nightgown had rendered Gold that speechless, especially given how well known he was for having a sharp tongue. She’d witnessed him giving Keith Nottingham a dressing down last summer, right outside the mechanics shop where Keith worked. Even though Keith was well over six feet tall and clearly worked out, Gold made him seem tiny, almost insignificant.

She grinned at the memory.

Keith was a jerk in every sense of the word, and Gold verbally tearing him a new asshole was the least that he deserved. But that was the kind of presence Gold had in the town; the mayor, the sheriff, the district attorney, they all acquiesced to him. Rumors said he had dirt on everyone, that nothing happened within thirty miles of the town line that he didn’t know about. She wondered sometimes whether that was part of why he’d made this deal with her, so that he would know something about her as well, so that he could have that control.

The thought was not comforting, but it was confusing. In theory, she had as much on Gold as he did on her in this situation. In fact, her position would seem far more sympathetic, if embarrassing, and if anyone did find out - god fucking forbid - she highly doubted they would take Gold’s side. It wasn’t the same as whatever he knew about Albert Spencer or Regina Mills, that made them go white as a ghost whenever Gold hinted at it under his breath.

So what the hell was his motivation?

Belle sighed, and regarded herself in the mirror. She’d left the library right on time, and decided that tonight she wouldn’t shower before going to Gold’s. It was a waste of time if every Thursday evening she was going to come home feeling the need to do it again. Instead she sat down to touch up her makeup and hair out of some odd desire to look as nice as possible. It was another one of the things that confused her. She should have said the hell with it, and not cared if her hair needed a good brushing, or if her lipstick had worn off. Yet she did. She cared how she looked, and for as much as Gold was paying her, she figured he might care too.

Last night she’d even put polish on her toenails, a light, shimmery pink, and gave herself a mini pedicure. If she was going to be barefoot again, then that was part of the package too. She’d look as pretty as she could, head to toe - literally, and that way if Gold let anything else slip out, then perhaps he might have reason to mean it.

Belle arrived at Mr. Gold’s house perfectly on time.

Her knock sounded at exactly one minute till seven, she’d checked her phone as she came up the front sidewalk to make sure, and the door opened right as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed the top of the hour.

“Miss French.” Gold’s mouth curved as he gave her a brief, appraising look before stepping back to allow her inside. “Right on time tonight.”

The first thing that she noticed was the bold, pink dress shirt beneath his pinstripe suit. She had noticed a while ago that he preferred a splash of color in his wardrobe, which was usually done through a striking tie or pocket square, but everyone once in a while there was something unexpected; last week it had been his checkered shirt, this week it was a brilliant pink. There was an eccentricity to his style that she appreciated. He appeared very reserved in his manner and dress, yet these little touches reflected something else entirely, something that kept people guessing.

Once again she caught a hint of something from the kitchen, tomatoes and garlic and something spicy. Spaghetti sauce, she assumed, and she made a happy noise, inhaling the mouthwatering scent as Gold once again took her coat and hung it up.

“Well, now I’m even hungrier,” she said. “Does it always smell delicious in here?”

He frowned. “You haven’t eaten?”

Bell shrugged. “Didn’t want to eat and then try on clothes, you know?”

He let out a gumbling hum and motioned for her to go ahead of him. “I assume you know where things are?”

She nodded and stopped by the door to the powder room. “Yup.”

“I need to finish cleaning up,” he said, moving past her and into the short hallway to the kitchen. “Will be just a moment.”

As soon as he turned his back, she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Her stomach was a mess, unable to decide between hunger pangs and the same vaguely nauseous feeling as last week. She set her purse in the same place on the set of shelves set beside the sink, and slipped off her shoes. She was more than halfway undressed, trousers off and blouse completely unbuttoned, before she thought to look at what Gold had put out for her, and stopped.

The nightie hung on the same padded hanger on the back of the door, looking delicate and pretty and oddly foreboding. It was a light, rosy pink and made of a stretchy cotton blend that was more practical than it was sexy, as was the little robe that went with it, but what her eyes were fixed on was the plunging neckline covered in lace. She swallowed and turned away, letting her blouse fall over her shoulders to catch at her wrists. The chemise from last week was the most unrevealing and basic thing she had, she’d known that, but knowing what else there was to be worn and seeing it hanging in front of her were two different things.

Reaching back, she unhooked her bra and then drew it down before hanging it over one of the posts framing the shelves along with her blouse. Turning back to the door, she took the nightie off the hanger and blanched when she saw the panties beneath it, dangling from one of those metal clips made to hold skirts or pants in place. Her eyes closed and she took a slow breath.

A beat later, she slipped the nightie over her head.

The skirt of it fell just to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her in the front and back, much shorter than what she’d worn last week which was as long as some of her dresses. This was undeniably sexual, meant to tease, and suddenly she was glad there was matching underwear to put on beneath it. She shoved her navy blue pair down and then took them off to lay folded on her trousers. The sensation was strange, so she quickly pulled on the matching panties, and then faced herself in the mirror.

The nightie clipped in the back like a bra, just under where the straps criss-crossed, and it took her a moment to adjust everything to where it needed to be. The cups were soft and lined, giving her breasts a little more coverage than the black silk did, for which she was grateful, although the deep dip in the front showed off just how much cleavage she didn’t have. The panties were the same soft cotton blend as the rest of it, with matching lace at the waist that stretched without digging into anything.

On the whole, now that she had it all on, it didn’t feel so bad. She had a sundress with the same sort of straps and clasp in the back, and aside from the length of the skirt it wasn’t that different. All in all it was actually comfortable enough to sleep in during the summer, she thought, which was sort of why she’d bought it in the first place. It made her wonder if Gold was going in some kind of order, working his way up to what he thought was the most risque and scandalous.

The robe was still on the hanger and she eyed it for a few seconds, trying to decide if she should put it on or not. It was part of what she’d purchased, and Gold had put it out with the nightie, but donning another layer meant she’d probably have to take it off. It was going to be a bit difficult to model the nightie if it was covered up with something else, but given how chilled she’d been last time, she thought she could get away with wearing it at least for a few minutes.

Sighing, she tied the sash of the robe at her waist and then eased open the door to peek into the hallway. Gold was still in the kitchen, if the clang of a pot being set in the sink was anything to go by, so she stepped out and hurried into the study. The doors were closed again, the fire roaring even bigger than last time, and she started to smile. It seemed he might have noticed that she was cold and made accommodations. It was strangely thoughtful, much as his invite to have dinner was, and she struggled to know what to make of all of it.

There was another noise from the kitchen, so she closed the doors quietly, and gave the room a more thorough going over. She’d been so nervous last time that all she’d noticed was the general layout of the room. Assuming she had a few minutes until Gold joined her, she took a leisurely stroll around the space, her eyes scanning all the shelves and walls filled with pieces from Gold’s various collections.

The china cabinet opposite Gold’s chair was lit up this time with two small lights mounted above the top shelf. Belle came to stand in front of it, attracted by the light glinting unusually off of something inside. Her eyes went wide when she saw each shelf was full. Two vases sat on the bottom with an ornate oil lamp between them, dishes painted with landscape scenes, a silver tray beside an array of delicate crystal figurines, and on the top shelf, just at her eye level was the strangest tea set she’d ever seen.

Thin white porcelain had been adorned with flowers, painted in such great detail and outlined in such a way that they looked three dimensional, as though they had been plucked out of a garden. They looked so delicate that the petals might fall free if they were touched, but each cup and saucer as well as the pot and the tray it sat on looked as if they had been broken into a hundred pieces and glued back together with liquid gold.

“Kintsugi.”

Gold’s voice startled Belle, and she backed away from the cabinet as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“What?”

His lips curved as he took a leisurely step towards her. “Kintsugi,” he repeated. “That’s what they call it.”

She looked from him to the tea set and back again, until he was standing next to her. “Kint - kintsu-gi?”

He nodded. “It means golden repair in Japanese, the art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold dust.”

Her eyes widened. “Gold dust? Like actual gold?” He gave another nod, and she shook her head, shifting her gaze back to the cabinet, following one of the lines of gold as it trailed from the rim of a cup down through a red rose and over to meet another line that encircled the handle. “Sounds expensive.”

“But beautiful,” added Gold.

Their eyes met in the mirrored back of the cabinet, and Belle held her breath until he looked away and went on to explain how he came to find the set. It had been packed in newspaper in a cardboard box, set inside a bigger box marked FREE at an estate sale in Vermont. Most of the pieces were already broken or chipped in some way, but there were a few books he was interested in at the very bottom so he bought the entire lot. Months later, he came across the box again in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and had the idea to try his hand at repairing it in this way.

“So, you made this?” she asked, unable to suppress the surprise and wonder in her voice.

“Aye,” he said. His voice was low and very close to her ear, and she gripped the knot of the robe tightly. “I fixed all the bits that were already broken, filled in missing pieces with things I had laying around, and smoothed all the jagged edges with extra lacquer.”

Belle shook her head slowly. She couldn’t imagine the patience and care it must have taken to create something so unique and beautiful, particularly when it was incomplete. It was - pleasing, wonderful even, and once again she was struck by the strange dichotomy that was Storybrooke’s Mr. Gold.

“Is it - I mean can you actually, um, use it? Once it’s like this?”

He nodded, smiling crookedly. “The lacquer is made from the sap of a very specific tree, and the gold is dusted over it while it’s still wet and sealed inside, and once it’s all done and hardened, it’s perfectly safe to drink from. I’ve personally used that cup there.”

He pointed to the very cup Belle had been admiring, the one with the fine line splitting the red rose in two, and she smiled. “You made so much beauty out of something so broken.”

“Even chipped cups have some use, don’t they?”

His question surprised her, and she looked over to find him watching her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “I think,” she said, “that in this case the best teacup is chipped.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and abruptly, he turned and crossed the room to the same chair he’d taken before. Belle blew out a slow breath, her mind spinning and struggling to wrap itself around the sudden shift from their conversation to the purpose of her being here. It was as if her reply had struck a nerve, but she wasn’t sure how.

She heard the creak of the leather as he sat, and after a long moment, she turned away from the china cabinet and its precious contents, and walked to the end of the ottoman. She licked her lips as her hands went to the knot of her robe, and lifted her eyes to his. The end of the sash pulled free easily, the pressure on her waist releasing as the two sides of the robe slid open. She swore she heard his breath hitch, the slight little hiccup and inhale of air, but he otherwise remained completely still as she shrugged her shoulders, sending the robe shimmying down her arms.

It landed on the ottoman behind her with a muted wisp, and she took another step forward. The edge of the nightie brushed her thighs, reminding her of how short it was, and she felt a heat that wasn’t from the fire creep up her neck. She bit her lip as her hands came up to her stomach and then dropped to her sides, unsure of what to do with them.

Gold meanwhile was just staring dazedly at her. His head lolled slightly to one side and then straightened, as one might when observing the way the light illuminated a work of fine art. The thought was absurd, and she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against the lace.

“Mr. Gold?” she asked softly. “Would you - would you like a drink?”

The question brought him out of the odd trance he’d been in, and he shifted in his seat before meeting her eyes. “Yes, a scotch please, Miss French.”

She turned and made her way around the end of the ottoman, crossing between it and the fireplace, feeling his eyes on her all the way to the bar. She was so grateful to be out of the heat for a minute that even the cold floor felt nice on her feet. For some reason the room was much warmer tonight than it had been last night, and she thought maybe she should say something about finding a happy medium.

Drink in hand, she walked back to stand closer to his chair, and held it out for him. He lifted his hand from where it was resting to take the glass by the bottom, keeping a sliver of a distance between where her fingers were around the rim and his. In doing so, he caught the hem of the nightie, and when he pulled the glass away and raised it to his lips, the hem went with it. It lifted slightly, just enough to feel a light flutter of air against her legs when it settled back into place. She stepped back immediately, conscious of the fact that it may have been enough for him to glimpse the matching panties underneath.

A shiver washed over her despite the flushing of her face, and she crossed her arms over her middle, her upper arms pushing her breasts together. Gold’s eyes dipped down, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip, just before he touched the glass to his mouth. She caught herself pressing her thighs together unconsciously as he sipped and swallowed, and took another step back until a blast of warmth from the fire made her stop.

“Thank you,” Gold said simply.

His expression was blank, as if nothing had occurred between them at all, and she knew that she was once again dismissed. Once again the abrupt change in his demeanor unsettled her, but she couldn’t give voice to any of the questions in her head. Instead, she gave him a short nod, and moved to leave, pausing to snatch up the robe before she all but ran from the study.

The bathroom was like an odd little oasis when Belle returned to it. She sighed at the cool air wrapping around her, calming her heated skin, and leaned back against the closed door, breathing slowly. The kintsugi, the conversation, the way he looked at her, she could make no sense of it. Whatever this was about for him, she couldn’t keep letting it affect her. She had to think of this weird arrangement as a job, nothing more. It was something she was doing for money - a lot of money, mind - but a paycheck all the same.

She blew out a breath and changed back into her clothes, deciding to leave the lingerie on the hanger again. If he wanted her to keep the items, then he could say so. She was tired of guessing his reasons and desires for any of this.

Gold was waiting for her when she opened the powder room door. He was standing with his cane, leaning a bit to the side as if he had to put most of his weight on it to keep himself upright, and holding a glass storage container with a plastic lid. She frowned at it as she lifted her purse strap onto her shoulder, and then looked up at him.

“For you,” he said, holding the container out for her to take.

Her eyes darted down to the offering as she reached for it hesitantly. “Okay...?”

“It’s lasagna. That’s - that’s what I made for dinner. I thought since you hadn’t eaten...” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Belle took the container from his hand and stared down at the lid. She could see a large square of something inside, with hints of red and creamy white. The scent of food still lingered in the air, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Gold let out a soft, short laugh, and shook his head. “It’s still warm, sort of, but I recommend putting the container in the oven and letting it come up to 350. That should heat it through.” He folded his hands over the handle of his cane, and then added, “With the lid off, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated. Confused as to why he was giving her food, but pleased she wouldn’t have to make anything when she got home, she lifted her eyes to him. “Um, thanks.”

“No matter.”

He followed her to the door, holding her coat for her once more, and then bid her good night.

The walk home was comfortably cool, but smelling of fresh lasagna the entire way.

By the time Belle reached the door of her apartment, she was starving and had determined that this time the vague feeling of nauseous indigestion was from lack of food rather than anything that had transpired with Gold. He had been a gentleman about nearly everything, except for whatever those accidental brushes had been, and he cooked like he should have his own restaurant. The small touches were clearly accidental, and the odd sensation that came over this evening was easily ignored. If he did it again, she might consider saying something or changing her tactic of fetching his drink, but for now it was certainly more tolerable than half of the dates she’d had.

Garrett would have had his hand up her skirt in minutes, which was a thought that made her entire body cringe now that their relationship has ended so spectacularly.

As strange as it might seem, she was more intrigued by Gold than disturbed or repulsed. The story of the tea set was charming, and the fact that the person who could remake some useless, broken bits into something so pretty was the same as the person who offered her a deal to parade around his study in lingerie, left her head spinning. She wanted to know how that was possible, and thought that perhaps over the next few weeks she might find out.

He seemed perfectly willing to talk to her, revealing small clues here and there, but once he realized he had, he tried to close up again. She supposed some of that was part of how he maintained his enigmatic personality within the town, yet there was also the possibility that no one had ever bothered to take an interest in him before. Maybe he had no idea how to deal with that, maybe he had some of the same anxieties about social situations as she did, though in her case it had somehow turned into a peculiar ability to make friends easily. In his case it kept people at arm's length, much the same as his prim, fitted suits and colorful shirts portrayed a baffling combination.

She put the container of lasagna, sans lid, in the oven as instructed, and left it to warm up while she took a shower. This evening she didn’t feel dirty or uncomfortable, it was just the end of a long day and she was more than ready for a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. The lasagna was, as expected, fantastic. The cheese wasn’t too thick or stringy, and the mozzarella had been mixed with something else that gave it a sharper, more aged flavor. In place of plain ground beef he’d used some kind of sausage that was just spicy enough to leave a lingering heat behind, but not too much that it burned, and the notes of fennel blended well the spice. He had been heavy on the fresh garlic and basil as well, which were probably her favorite parts. She was prone to using a bit too much of them herself, and she smiled as she shoved the last forkful in her mouth.

She contemplated asking him to add dinner to the deal, but that would make the whole arrangement feel like something it wasn’t. They weren’t dating, they weren’t friends; it was just a weird business transaction, needs and wants.

She needed money, and he was providing. Though what Gold wanted from any of it would likely remain a mystery.

Gold leaned back in his chair as he savored the last bit of his second glass of scotch.

Belle had been less nervous this time, perhaps because he’d spoken to her about the tea set. He hadn’t intended to do so, but the way she was looking at it was - indescribable, like the way she might look at a painting or sculpture by one of the old masters, with a kind of curious awe. What she’d said about the chipped cup was incidental, he knew it was not some kind of metaphor or anything, even if restoring the set had been far more personal for him than he’d let on. She seemed quite pleased with his story, and he wondered idly what she might say if he put it up for sale in his shop. Would she want to buy it? Would she use the money he’d paid her to have it?

If he closed his eyes, he knew he would be able to recall the moment perfectly, the soft flutter of the rosy fabric as it fell from her arms, exposing more beneath it. The brief brush of those fingers against her, the hint of the lacy panties hiding under the skirt, the same precious pink as the rest of it, made him shiver. He didn’t think she’d noticed, or if she had maybe she had assumed it was an accident. It was, partially, but instead of pulling away when he’d realized what he’d done, he’d continued, waiting to see if she would move first. She hadn’t; he didn’t know what that meant.

The nightie had a teasing, innocent look to it, but it bared more than it covered. He’d gotten an eyeful of her skin, so creamy and soft looking, supple if it were pressed, and flushed the prettiest pink in the warmth of the room. He wondered how else he might make her blush like that, and shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs as his own skin prickled with heat. He raised his hand, touching the fingertips that had touched her so briefly to his lips as his other hand moved to his waist, adjusting the pressure of his trousers and belt.

She had looked so beautiful tonight. Truthfully, she always did, but there was something about having her here, in his sanctuary, that made so much keener. A tingling throb twitched between his legs, and he gave in and pressed his palm to the front of his trousers, running the heel of it up and down his rapidly hardening cock. He couldn’t touch her again like that, couldn’t cross that line, no matter how much the image of her bare thighs tormented him.

Sighing, he forced his hand back to the arm of the chair and breathed slowly until his body calmed. As much as he wanted to take himself in hand and call to mind one of any number of fantasies, that was another line he couldn’t let himself cross. He was the monster they all said he was, in every way but that.

After a few minutes, Gold pushed to his feet, ignoring the lingering flush that crept up his neck and the ache low in his belly as he headed upstairs for another chilling shower.

( This is kintsugi. It's one of my favorite things and someday I too will have a tea set like in this fic. )

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #desperate souls #lemon fic #my rumbelle fic #fic #nsft

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lowkeyaesthvtic · 4 years

Text

Fiery and Frozen

Pairing: poly!Sea Three (Uma x Harry x Gil)

Summary: The Sea Three get sent home from Auradon Prep early due to a snow storm. The boys want to turn on the fireplace, but Uma has other plans

Word Count: 4,146 (that’s right, it’s a long boy)

Warnings: major major MAJOR explicit smut, light bondage, dom!Uma, switch!Harry, sub!Gil, I feel like the post will get banned if I explain everything so just read with caution

Author’s Note: This is the first of three (I think three?) smuts that follow the smut dialogue prompts I reblogged a while back. This particular one has prompts 16 and 94

The air outside was nearly arctic, and the howling wind didn’t help too much. Ice quietly tapped against every surface of every building in Auradon. Those who made the dull-witted decision to skip out on layering for that day came back to their dorms with high chills on their skin and a blue or purple tint to their lips. Uma, Harry, and Gil had all made that mistake.

School had been cancelled early that day, as did all after school activities. Some were happy to be sent home early, eager to catch up on homework, take a nap, whatever they wish. Others were upset about the cancellation of their beloved tourney practice or rehearsal for Auradon’s Speech and Debate team. These swashbucklers, however, only cared about staying warm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Harry mumbled as he shut their dorm room door behind them. Goosebumps trailed along his pale skin from one muscled arm to the next. For the first time in a long time, he would publicly admit to being desperate for something. In the case? Warmth.

“I don’t get it...yesterday it was sunny. Like, really sunny. Did someone cast a spell? Is Auradon cursed again?” Gil asked as he walked over to their bed and looked for blankets, hoodies, anything to warm themselves from the frost outside their window. Uma sat on their bed and crossed one leg over the other as she eyed her boys up and down. Despite them being tinted a dark blue, Uma could not stop thinking about their lips. The cold skin trailing along every inch of her body as she’d curl her icy fingers down their bare backs.

“Nope. Evie told me earlier today that they got hit with something similar this time last year. She had the perfect cure for it, though.” She smirked and walked over to the small fireplace in their nearly luxurious bedroom. They had only added tiny Isle-esque touches so far, and they did intend on adding more. But for now, their bedroom would look like a weird mix of their home on the Isle and the fresh, pristine style of Auradon. With the fireplace on, the boys quickly sped over to sit on the foot of the bed and face the roaring heat emitting from across them.

The boys sighed in relief. But said relief was quickly cut in half when Uma stood in front of the fireplace, blocking some of the heat that would be warming them. She stood facing them, hands on her hips and looking at them with hungry eyes. “Well? Don’t you want to know what the cure is?” She asked innocently, hoping the tease in her tone would help them take the hint.

Harry immediately caught on, knowing that slight tease in her voice from a mile away. He smirked devilishly and gave a low chuckle. Gil, however, bless his pirate soul, was sitting there with his head slightly cocked to the side in confusion. “I thought the fireplace was the cure?” Gil asked.

The dark-locked pirate stood and tenderly greeted his girlfriend, placing a stray hair behind her face. “Hmmm, it seems he’s not catching the hint. More for me?” Harry quietly cooed in her ear. Uma smiled softly, inching in closer to him as if she were going to kiss him. Harry was swiftly surprised, however, when she tightly gripped his hair and pushed him down to his knees. Harry melted into the touch, loving the fluttery, fiery feeling he received when Uma reminded him who was in charge.

“Not if you’re gonna behave like that.” Uma began to walk closer to Gil, but stopped when she heard shuffling movement from behind her. She briskly turned and gave Harry her dominating glare. “Did I say you could get up? Stay there.” Uma gritted through her teeth as she turned to Gil with a sweet grin. “Gil, do you understand what I’m asking for, here?”

Gil could already feel his breath getting a hint heavier. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he had a role to play. This was a lustful dynamic the three of them had built far before they had decided to take their relationship in a more romantic direction. Harry was a feisty one. He’d have his days where all he wanted to do was tease his sunshiney boy more and more, inching towards the brink of release, but swiping it every time. He was bratty, too. Flirtatious and hedonistic as if the feeling of Gil and Uma’s bodies against his was a drug..no, a religion to him. He could be as teasing and devilish with Gil as he wanted to be, but the minute his Captain stepped in, it’s as if a switch in his mind, body, and soul flipped. What was once a fiery, near chaotic little demon became an obedient first mate, eager to please and serve his Goddess.

Uma always took charge. She’d command every kiss, every touch, every lingering piece of skin on her and her boys. If she asked her boys to jump, they’d ask how hard..how deep, and they had to do it willingly. Because their Captain was merciless, brutal, yet burning ecstasy in punishment.

Gil? Gil was the sunshine boy. Innocent and a tad dumb both in the streets and somewhat in the sheets. He was always submissive. Almost always excited. He would be a bit naive at first, supposedly fronting like he didn’t have a lot of experience. But once the foreplay was done, that would be the complete opposite. Gil is like a rabbit. Sweet and adorable but horny as fuck. And that showed in his actions. He was needy of pleasure both for himself and his partners, and giving out a naive front was a part of that need.

“I, I think so? Can you...can you tell me?” Uma quietly giggled and slowly shifted herself on to Gil’s lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. She runs her hands gently through his blonde locks and placing a finger under his chin, leans his head up to gaze directly into her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, sweetie. Why tell..when I can just show?” Uma whispered before leaning in to place a kiss on Gil’s soft, pouty lips. Their lips collided deeply and passionately, dancing with each other in a fiery masquerade. Uma couldn’t keep her hands off of Gil’s rock hard, bulging biceps and Gil revelled in every cold touch she gave him. Harry sat back in longing, the sounds of their needy groans and content, quiet sighs filling the room and seeping into his skin. Gil quickly moved down to Uma’s neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave love bites that blended near perfectly with her dark skin. A small moan slips from Uma as she leans back and takes a quick look at how Harry’s reacting to all of this. She quickly pushes Gil down, his back laying on the soft bed. As she takes off his shirt, she leans down and cooes loud enough for the dark haired pirate behind her to hear. “Gil, why don’t we warm ourselves up a bit, hm?” Gil slowly nods, feeling his erection growing harder with every ounce of her breath he feels on his skin.

“But...but what about Harry?” Gil looked up just for a moment to check on his kneeling boyfriend. He wasn’t quite a mess just yet, but the animal was definitely not liking his cage. His mind was racing, eyes fixed on Gil’s bare chest. He knew that as soon as Uma gave him the permission to, he’d ravage that naive boy enough to make Gil scream his name. The idea of pinning Gil’s arms to the bed as he’d suck and bite on every inch of his skin, teasing his hard, twitching cock until the very last second made Harry’s erection very visible through his black pants. Harry looked to Uma and gave her a gaze that silently begged for permission to stand, to move, to do anything other than sit here and watch. Uma chuckled and positioned herself right on top of Gil’s growing erection, causing a pleasured moan to slip from the boy’s lips.

“We’re gonna give him a show first. Now, be a good boy and do what I tell you. That won’t be so hard, will it?” Gil shakes his head, knowing that the moment he disobeys her he will regret it. Uma smiles and continues kissing every inch of his body, one hand gripping onto his shoulder as she digs her nails into his skin as the other hand rests on Gil’s right thigh. She perks her firm, supple ass a bit higher into the air, knowing it’d drive her first mate crazy. By the time she leans up to examine her work, Gil’s neck and chest are covered in marks varying in shades of red and purple. Gil whines at the loss of contact, but is relieved of the sudden loss when he feels her grinding against his crotch. In his pleasured haze, he hadn’t noticed that Uma had stripped of nearly all her clothes, leaving her only in a pair of lacey, dark blue panties.

But Harry had seen every bit of it. He knew from the second she removed her brown belt what she was doing to him. He marveled how she swayed out of her dress to the beat of every possible song that was blaring in his mind. He nearly growled when she turned around and flashed him a wink as she removed her bra and tossed it to the floor beside them. Not seeing her breasts, but only the curves and divots of her back and hips was the biggest tease she had given him. He wanted to touch her so bad, feel her lips crash onto his pale body and please every inch of her skin as Gil lingered his tongue up and down his cock. But, like a puppet on strings, he had no choice but to stay still.

Uma continued to grind against Gil’s hard cock, loving the feeling it gave her but needing just a little more. She moved her hand from Gil’s shoulder to his blonde lock, giving a strong tug. Gil quietly winced and the mix of pain and pleasure that she gave him, but he loved every bit of it. He needed to feel her mouth on him like a fish needed the ocean water coursing through every breath. “Uma..please..I need you.” He begged, eyes glazing over with wanton.

At his begging remark, Uma leans down and growls into his ear. “Did I say you could speak, my little rabbit?” She ceased her grinding and stood up, motioning to a needy Harry to stand beside her. “I’ll have to admit, I loved hearing you beg. Maybe our needy Harry over here can help you beg a bit more, hm?” As Harry stood beside her, she pulled him in and quickly crashed their lips together. After being without her touch for so long, it felt like ecstasy to finally get some attention. They ran their hands all over each other, Harry taking every chance he could get to grip her soft breasts. He started to move down to her neck when she pushed him back. “I’ve gotta get something. You two have fun while I’m gone.” As she walked away, she whispered a subtle command to her first mate. “I want him a mess when I’m back. But don’t let him come, you got that?” Moving his gaze to the desperate blonde in front of him, he slowly nodded with a devilish snicker. Uma walked off, heading towards a special closet in a different part of their home.

Harry quickly rushed on top of Gil, stripping off his jacket and shirt with haste. Using his strength, he pulled Gil up closer to him, their chests touching skin to skin. “Wait, what did she tell you?” Gil asked in between quiet moans as Harry left even more love bites across his neck and shoulders.

“Shut up and take your pants off.” Harry responded, to which Gil obliged. Soon enough, both of the boys were naked and revelling in each other’s touch. Heat, lust, and utter desire roaring in the both of them. Like an entrancing snake, Harry slithered down Gil’s chilled body, leaving both wet and soft kisses down every inch until he finally licked a long, wet stride up the blonde’s hard cock. The sensation sent shivers up Gil’s spine as he leaned his head back and let a needy moan release into their bedroom. Gripping onto his thighs strong enough to leave red marks, Harry soon became a little rougher with his tongue. Gil intertwined his fingers in his dark, messy locks as Harry switched back and forth between speedily bobbing up and down and teasing licks from the base to his tip. Harry had always been a fan of control when it came to Gil, doing everything he could to remind the muscle that no matter how big and strong he was, he’d always be a good boy for a teasing, devilish imp like himself.

Harry kept himself trapped in between Gil’s legs, his pace growing quick and rough as Gil bucked his hips and let his cock hit the back of Harry’s throat. Gil could feel the warmth in his stomach beginning to bubble over as he longed for release. “Harry...please.” He moaned out as he neared his climax. Harry let go of his cock with an audible pop and continued gliding his fingers along the inside of Gil’s thighs, relishing in the small shivers and squirms the blonde pirate gave.

“Sorry, rabbit. Uma gave me orders. I have to follow them.” He slid back from in between Gil’s legs and moved to straddle him. He leaned down to his boyfriend’s ear and whispered lowly. “You know how to follow orders, don’t you?” As Harry’s hand went to tightly grip Gil’s throat, the two pirates could hear the door opening and Uma walking in with an evil smile on her face. There she stood with a pair of red, leather handcuffs in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. Harry speedily removed himself from Gil and began to saunter closer to Uma, eyeing the cuffs like a hungry wolf. “What exactly do you have planned, Captain?” Uma let out a soft chuckle before looking over to Gil.

“Gil, my rabbit, lean up against the headboard, will you?” Gil quickly nodded and obeyed, shimmying his body so his back leaned against the headboard. Uma spun one of the cuffs around her finger in pure excitement. “Harry, help me out?”

“Gladly, Captain.” Harry purred as the two moved over to cuff Gil to the black headboard behind their bed. Gil’s heartbeat began to quicken in both fear and excitement as he felt his hands restrict to the tight, red, leather cuffs that Uma had brought up. His length was still standing hard and thick, almost painfully stiff from Harry’s earlier teasing. A tiny whimper rises from him as Harry snakes down to his chest and starts to leave even more tiny little love bites on his chest. Uma straddled behind Harry and grabbed a lock of his hair, using her grip to move him up and away from Gil’s chest.

“Easy, Harry, you’re making the poor guy miserable. Surely he should get some kind of award for following my orders earlier, shouldn’t he?” Uma smiled as she grabbed the bottle of lube and began to open the cap. However, instead of squeezing the lube onto Harry’s hand, she quickly grabbed two of Harry’s fingers and swirled her tongue around them long and slow. “Just in case the lube’s not enough.” She said after releasing his fingers with an audible pop. Harry could try to assume that was the only reason Uma sucked his fingers so sloppily, but he knew what she was doing. He chuckled lightly and looked down at Gil. The poor little rabbit still laid a heavily breathing, silently begging mess. Harry took the lube from Uma’s hand and squeezed a little bit of it onto his two fingers before lathering them in the warm liquid.

“Don’t worry, little rabbit. I’ll warm you up.” Harry smirked as he teased his finger around the rim of Gil’s hole before slowly inserting it inside of him. A small hiss of pain could be heard as Gil slowly adjusted to the penetration, but it wasn’t long before he laid there, eager for Harry to move his long, index finger.

“H-Harry, please...s-stop teasing.”

“We really need to find a way to shut you up, don’t we, little Rabbit? Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing. Are you able to lay on your back?” Uma asked softly, a temporary pause from her dominating demeanor to ensure the safety of her boyfriend. When he nodded his head and began to slowly lay on his back, Uma straddled over his chest and began to capture his tongue in a heated, passionate kiss. In the kiss, Uma began to grind her naked sex on top of Gil’s chest, painting it with her wet juices. “Go ahead and stop teasing him, Harry. I’ve got just the thing to keep him quiet.” Uma ordered her first mate. As Harry obeyed and began to curl his finger inside Gil’s hole, a soft sigh of relief could be heard from the blonde pirate. Uma began to move her naked body closer and closer to Gil’s mouth. “You know what to do, little rabbit. Show me what that tongue can do.” She whispered before lowering herself onto Gil’s face. He eagerly went to work licking her folds, lapping at her warm juices like a thirsty dog desperate for water.

As he ate Uma out, Harry slowly curved his finger as he moved in and out of Gil’s hole. Tired of being tame, Harry cautiously added a second finger and began to quicken his pace. Moans could be heard from both Uma and Gil as the devilish imp hit Gil’s most sensitive spot and the little rabbit grew even more reckless with his tongue. “Fuck, sunshine...need to be in you so badly. Captain, can I fuck him? Please?” Harry panted as his member remained nearly untouched. His mind went wild watching both his boyfriend and girlfriend unravel before him, but the fact that he wasn’t getting a lot of attention slowly began to eat away at him.

Uma was nearing her climax, but decided that she needed something different, something more from her boys. She got off of Gil’s face and went back to straddling his chest. She lowered herself to meet his lips as she whispered seductively to him. “What do you think, Gil? You want Harry to fuck you senseless while I ride that thick cock of yours? All you gotta do is ask.” The two boys gulped in excitement as Harry shot Gil a look saying ‘You better beg, you little shit.’ Gil looked up at Uma and eagerly nodded his head.

“Please, please Captain. I need to feel you, I need to feel both of you. I promise, I’ll do anything.” After being silenced for so long, Gil felt amazing finally letting go of control and submitting to the two beautiful people in front of him. He’d beg as long as they wanted if it meant making them feel good. Uma quickly leaned down to peck his cheek.

“Good boy.” She smiled as she leaned over to the dresser and grabbed two condoms. As she handed one to Harry, she shot him a wink. “Try not to rough him up too much, alright? Unless he wants that.”

Gil rolled his eyes as he watched the two unwrap and put on the condoms. “I don’t care how rough, just fuck me already!”

Harry and Uma chuckled and positioned themselves. Uma straddled Gil’s length as Harry rubbed some of the warm lube onto his own. “Well, somebody’s eager.” Harry laughed as he teased the tip of his cock around Gil’s stretched hole. Uma, however, was tired of teasing. As soon as Gil’s cock was within reach, she quickly lowered herself down. There was a small wince at the sudden entry, but as soon as Uma started moving slowly..up and down..neither of them cared. Harry, incredibly aroused and nearly feral from the pleasurable sounds Uma and Gil began to make, finally entered Gil’s hole starting with his tip and taking it inch by inch. His rough, strong hands began to grip onto Gil’s thighs as he began to move in and out. Gil, slightly overstimulated from all the attention these two were giving him, could already feel his head floating in the clouds. It was like the three of them were the only people in the world. He didn’t care how loud or ridiculous sounding his moans and tiny begs were, or how loudly their headboard had started to bang on the wall. All he cared about was the warm wetness Uma blessed him with and the rough, senseless fucking Harry began to gave him as he quickly picked up his pace.

Uma definitely had a good time herself as well. It always brought her joy knowing the pleasure of two of the Isle’s hottest boys was in the palm of her hands. She was the only one who knew the right way to tug Harry’s black locks. She was the only one who knew Gil’s secret ‘love’ for spanking and rope bondage. Technically, Harry knew these things too, but she was the only one who’d get to use them as tiny games of sexual torture. She loved it. They loved it. And they’re the only ones who play it with each other.

Harry could feel himself start to come undone. The warm feeling in the pit of his groin was bubbling and boiling like a pot of hot water and he wanted nothing more than to let it burst inside of his blonde baby boy. “C-Captain...can I come? Please, please let me come inside of him.” Harry would never be this submissive around anybody else. But there was something about the way Uma carried herself, both in and outside the bedroom, that made him weak in the knees. Weak enough that if anybody else were to see the two in moments like these, they’d think Harry was under some kind of love spell cast by Uma. But there was no spell involved here, just a girl so beautiful, so confident, so strong in her fight for dominance that just submitting to her brought Harry the utmost pleasure. For Gil, on the other hand, he was an amplified, sexualized version of his usual, chaotic self. Eager to both tease and please. After all, the more you tease, the more they want it, and Harry loved to elongate everything with Gil as far as he could until Gil was a begging mess.

Speaking of begging, Gil’s pants began to grow quick and unrhythmic as his climax came close. “I’m getting close, too. Uma...p-please..” He whined as he listened to the beautiful music of Uma’s moans.

“Yes, yes baby. You can come. Come long and hard like I know you can.” Neither of the boys knew which one she was talking to, but they obeyed the order regardless. Gil let out a huge moan as he came inside of Uma, knowing he’d have quite the messy condom to throw away later. As he came, Harry could feel Gil’s hole tightening around him. The warm, tight hole around Harry’s throbbing cock was enough for the devilish pirate to reach his peak, whispering both Gil and Uma’s name as he did.

By the time Uma had undone Gil’s cuffs and Harry had thrown away both of the condoms, the three laid sprawled out across the bed, both of the boys near drenched in sweat. “Thank wicked for snow days, yeah?” Harry huffed out as he tangled his fingers in Gil’s ruffled and messy locks.

“Definitely.” Uma smiled, staring up at the ceiling then lowering her eyes to the roaring fireplace. “You boys want me to turn off the fireplace?”

“No, I think we’re good here.” Gil hummed between breaths, taking in the scent and afterglow of his two favorite people. Then, he noticed something. “Uma, did you finish?”

“No, that doesn’t matter though. Making you boys feel good is fine enough for me.” Gil leaned up and looked over to Harry, cocking an eyebrow and letting a playful smirk spread across his face.

“Well we can’t have that, can we, Harry?” Harry shrugged his shoulders as he began to leave little nibbles on Uma’s neck while Gil lowered himself to Uma’s thighs and began to tease her folds with his fingers. Uma sighed and closed her eyes, realizing a newfound love for snow days.

#Descendents #gil descendants #disney descendants #disney descendants 2 #gil x reader #harry x gil #harry x uma x gil #harry hook #harry hook x reader #harry hook x gil #harry hook x uma #harry hook x reader smut #poly smut #huma #uma daughter of ursula #uma descendants #uma x harry x gil #descendants smut

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tombraidergirl · 6 years

Text

SotTR Impressions (1): Reveal Demo

On 26 April 2018 I was given the opportunity to try out the first hands-on demo for Shadow of the Tomb Raider at the London reveal event to which I was kindly invited by Square Enix Germany. Square Enix sponsored my travel an accommodations to this event.

Shadow of the Tomb Raider will complete the story arc that began in Tomb Raider - where adventure found young, fresh-from-college Lara Croft, forcing her to fight for survival - and was continued in Rise of the Tomb Raider - where Lara actively sought out adventure to honour her father’s legacy. In Shadow of the Tomb Raider Lara chooses to continue searching for great archaeological and mythological mysteries, out of curiosity and her love for adventure, slowly turning her into the adventuress we know and love from the classic games.

In the past couple of years the reboot series had to endure a lot of criticism pertaining to Lara’s character and the fact that her weak side was showing, but what people keep forgetting is that the Lara from the classic games (with the exception of Angkor Wat in The Last Revelation and Ireland in Chronicles - which didn’t portrait a very believable character if you’re honest ;-) - which is okay btw, it's fiction) was a seasoned explorer in her late twenties or early thirties (born in 1968). Her original storyline was that an event - in that case a plane crash - at the age of 21 made her turn her life upside down, becoming the heroine of Tomb Raider I and everything after. A storyline that Tomb Raider Legend kind of messed up and Tomb Raider (2013) then tried to fix by getting back to the roots, but replacing the plane crash with a shipwreck to add something fresh, instead of doing Legend’s Nepal again at the “correct” age. So where in the original game was it written that 21-year-old Lara didn’t have weaknesses? I can sympathise with people not loving to play a softer Lara, when we got to know and love her as a tough cookie, but that’s over with anyway, and so is this discussion I hope.

Shadow adds a new layer of toughness to Lara. Her body has changed visibly, her well toned muscles clearly showing. Her face seems a little less soft - something that is probably going to be discussed at length on the internet with comments along the lines of “why did they change her face again” - which is only logical given what she has been through in the recent years.

Story

Lara and Jonah are in Cozumel, Mexico hot on the trail of one Dr. Dominguez, a member of the Trinity order, searching for a hidden underground temple holding a key, the “Key of Chak Chel” to some mystery. Lara herself is trying to beat them to it and believes to have the upper hand as a second piece of the puzzle, the “Silver Box of Ix Chel”, Trinity is searching for in Brazil, might actually be located in Peru according to her own calculations. The Day of the Dead, or Día de Muertos, is being celebrated presenting Lara and Jonah with the opportunity to blend in, Lara hiding her Trinity-wide known face beneath a traditional mask worn for this occasion. With Jonah’s help Lara manages to follow Dominguez, whom Lara begins to suspect of being the actual leader of Trinity. She learns that while they are still unsuccessful in Brazil, they might have found the entrance to the hidden complex here in Cozumel. Gaining entrance to the dig site Lara manages to find a cave entrance Trinity has so far ignored. This ultimately leads her into the heart of the complex, an underground Maya pyramid, where she finds a large mural telling the story of Kukulkan, the creation god, and tells of a ritual that - when combining the key and the box - summons him. But it also warns of many catastrophes, in the order: tsunami, storm, earthquake, and volcanic eruptions. Lara then spots a circular stone tablet depicting the Hydra constellation which is misaligned. After aligning it, the hiding place of the Key of Chak Chel, an ancient ornate dagger, is revealed to her. While Lara marvels at the artefact, she receives a warning from Jonah via the two-way radio that Trinity is closing in. Without having time to think, Lara grabs the artefact and thus inadvertently sets things into motion. “What have I done?” Lara manages to escape the underground structure but is surprised by Dominguez and his men who take the dagger from her and tell her that by grabbing the artefact she started the apocalypse and that the first harbinger, the tsunami, is on its way. Lara manages to escape the tsunami, while witnessing the destruction it leaves in its wake, and is able to reunite with Jonah. She tells him what has happened and that she has lost the dagger to Trinity and that the foremost thing on her mind is beating Trinity in the race for the Box to prevent Trinity from realising their dreams for a new world order. Jonah maintains that Lara is not at fault for the tsunami. “Not everything is about you.” He believes that helping the survivors of the tsunami should be their priority.

Gameplay

In the first part of the demo Lara explores the town square and has the opportunity to interact with a couple of people, by talking to them, and learning more about their lives; a gameplay mechanism that has been introduced in the Reboot, where Lara could talk to the other Endurance survivors and returning in Rise where minor interactions with the Remnant were possible. But Shadow takes the whole thing a step further, as the whole market scene is not really relevant for progressing with the main story, but gives the environment a more lively feel. The market also offers the first resources in the form of a medkit and some herbs.

Another gameplay element returning is the fluent switch between cut scenes and playable scenes, when Jonah distracts two goons to allow Lara to sneak past and explore the back alleys and reach the dig site, which is well guarded and locked down. She then reaches another exploration area, a nice and quiet location with the remains of ruined Maya structures where more resources can be found, including resource crates and where Lara uses the wall scramble, the move that gets her up and over high walls.

Lara’s use of the climbing axe has also improved, offering new ways of traversal not seen in the reboot games yet. Besides climbing on craggy walls, she can now attach the rope she carries to rappel up or down, to use that rope to perform a so called rappel swing and reach far off platforms, and to perform wall runs to again reach far off platforms.

Lara finally locates a cave entrance allowing her passage to yet another type of area, where she meets her first prey in the form of the well known and difficult to shoot rats that can be killed for hide and +25 XP. The new gameplay elements introduced here are the ability to disarm spear traps by cutting tripwire ropes using the knife Lara carries and the improved diving skill that gives Lara a new freedom when exploring under water. Unfortunately Lara has not brought the rebreather from Rise along but she is now able to use pockets of trapped air to extend her time underwater.

After making her way through the underwater passages Lara finally reaches the interesting bit where a series of counterweights waits to be figured out to allow her to ascend upwards. Through the use of carts that can be pushed, tethered to other objects like cranks, or rotated around on a turntable, Lara can use them to break through walls and to weight down platforms. It seems like more of these kinds of puzzles have made their way from the challenge tombs - of which there were none in the demo by the way - into the base game.

(Concept Art)

Another well known gameplay element is a water slide scene, where Lara has to be steered down a torrential stream, avoiding deadly traps.

The axe can still be used to pry open doors, widen cracks in walls and even to break windows in this game.

The resources found in Shadow of the Tomb Raider are more plentiful if we are to believe what the developers told us and besides the known resources like herbs, cloths, hide, hardwood (which can also be dug up from hidden caches) we were able to spot ready made medkits and stimulants. More known elements returning are murals - which will now improve Laras overall knowledge of the culture rather than her language skills in particular - shootable targets as part of a challenge and explorer backpacks or maps - that give Lara the location of hidden collectables.

Impressions

Let me begin with Jonah, because he’s right there at the beginning of the demo. I have spoken with quite a few fans who thought that reboot Jonah seemed a lot tougher than Rise Jonah and who missed that tougher side of him. But in Shadow tough Jonah is back. While in Rise I got the feeling that Jonah wasn’t really there of his own free will but coerced by Lara to be there, but in Shadow he’s back and seems genuinely interested in the adventure. He actively helps Lara by distracting mercenaries. The two seem like equals, two adventurers who can both hold their own, no one in need of comforting and supporting (Lara by Jonah in the Reboot) or of rescuing (Jonah by Lara in Rise). Something that does return from Rise is their occasional difference of opinion resulting in heated discussions not unlike the one that occurred in Croft Manor in Rise of the Tomb Raider.

The Cozumel part is a little reminiscent of the Syria section of Rise. It has Lara finding a hidden tomb or temple, it gives a kind of introduction into traps, but Cozumel is a little more bombastic adding a calm town exploration to it (a little like the very beginning of Peru in Tomb Raider Legend but without the town folk hiding in their houses - a better comparison would be another game that is not Tomb Raider where such explorations of towns with lots of friendly characters is common but I’ll refrain from such comparison at this point, you might not own a PlayStation :-) ) The climbing sections shortly later are a little like the beginning of Thailand in Underworld but with a more impressive environment, with a view close to the one enjoyed at the Coastal Bluffs in the Reboot. (Or, possibly passages of number 4 of the PlayStation game I am not mentioning here. ;-))

And finally: The top Lara was wearing in the demo (a different one from the one in the screenshots) is getting closer to the classic outfit we know.

#shadow of the tomb raider

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castleportmuses · 6 years

Text

coming home.

LOCATION: around castleport, eventually castleport high school

TAGGING: rachel berry (with mentions of others)

DATE & TIME: 9/22; evening

NOTES: Time to send a message.

WC: 1423

The red suited her. While the crowds provided some semblance of anonymity, the shoulder-length auburn bob added an almost fun flair to the situation. Paired with the dark gold aviators that seemed to be more of Puck’s style than her own, it was easy to assume that she was simply another face in the crowd. Not much to be done about the nose, always prominent enough to earn her plenty of looks and the occasional teasing, but the black baseball cap completed the look.

Hiding in plain sight on one of the busiest days of the year. Castleport always went all out for Homecoming, though for once, Rachel was grateful for the crowded streets and the chaos of the earlier parade that carried over as the returning alumni and most of the town headed to the high school for the football game.

She, on the other hand, had different plans. Gripping the strap of the black duffel bag digging into her leather-jacket clad shoulder, she moved at an unassuming pace, walking along the still-busy streets in the direction of her alma mater.

There was a pleasurable thrill in being unknown among ebb and flow of familiar faces, with none of them noticing at all. She couldn’t help the lurch of her stomach at that always came with seeing Ryder, recognizing his muscular build as he stopped to take a picture of the leaves that had fallen so prettily along the streets, a sure sign of fall’s arrival. They were all there, catching glimpses of Sugar, and Santana preening even as he walked.

Hunter breezing past, and she was sure if she bothered to stop at the Double C, she’d find Tina. Mercedes, her closest friend looking no less for wear, not even the slightest bit frazzled. Quinn, bored and playing unaffected as always. Puck would most likely be somewhere drawing attention and soaking it all up shamelessly. Sam walked right past her, headphones in, moving in the opposite direction of the crowd, an apt metaphor for his existence.

All the pieces and parts of her game, wandering the streets or taking in the parade and now headed to the game, against the backdrop of a picturesque first day of autumn. Indeed, their hometown was looking lovely, even if the gossip she’d managed to catch was anything but.

The rumors were flying and as she expected, there were a few ugly ones blended with the smatterings of sympathy that Rachel felt weren’t at all adequate. It seemed few people cared, or at least genuinely did, that she’d been gone for nearly a month with barely a word.

And her so-called classmates and friends had gotten far too comfortable with that quiet, for her liking.

The sun had long set and she could hear the crackle of the microphones from the commentators announcing the start of the football game that Castleport was sure to win. Which would be in her favor. The feeling of ruining the evening and reminding every single one of them about what really mattered.

Her.

The side-entrance in the North Hall was unlocked. Predictable. Either someone was careless or the lock had truly never been fixed but once again Rachel was glad she wouldn’t have to use the bolt-cutters she’d managed to store in the duffel along with the other important items. The halls were quiet, the only sound coming from the noise of the crowd as the game began and the Rebels immediately nabbed the first down.

But her attention was elsewhere, dark eyes narrowing at the glittery, showy sight before her. The wall of winners. Wall of Assholes, more like. The pictures of past homecoming court winners dating back to the late 90s. The idea of celebrating a glorified popularity contest was laughable and Rachel couldn’t help the snort that slipped out. The school was a joke, the voting was bullshit. They were all so massively self-absorbed in a way that even she, forever stuck on herself, took notice. And at least she owned it.

It was impossible not to feel the anger that bubbled up, thinking about how the administration simply rewarded them and for what…walking upright in heels? Even now, during that inspid halftime show, there would be more of them on display, losers returning to boast about that one time they managed to win a fake plastic crown, given to them by fake, plastic friends.

And she couldn’t ignore how badly she’d wanted to win one back in the day.

Nor the euphoria that followed when her name was called at prom, only for it to be a lie.

An ugly-trash filled one.

And she hated herself for remembering her happy grin, thinking the laughs and cheers were for her victory and not for the garbage oozing into her hair from that stupid crown.

Trash Queen.

Lips tightening, She slipped the bag from her shoulders and knelt down, grabbing the black leather gloves from her jacket pocket and putting them on. The zipper from the duffel was loud in the quiet and she knew she had to be quick, unable to gauge the time or if someone would happen upon her. Pulling out the cans of spray paint, she uncapped the black and shook it up before turning her attention to the two portraits in question.

Their smiling faces, perfectly captured beauty. One, blond and pristine, giving a laughing smile that seemed utterly practiced and so fake, just like the rest of her. Rachel painted out the haughty hazel eyes of Quinn Fabray with a thick line of black, the satisfaction growing at the sight and she glanced over at the other portrait. Santana Lopez’s smile was part smolder, part sneer, and all bitch. The large black ‘X’ covered most of her face but it wouldn’t do. They needed to be ruined.

She had to make them see.

The garish red paint ran in droplets down the pictures to the frame, highlighting the ugly and accurate words she wrote with an angry flourish.

Bitch.

Trash Queen.

It was exactly what they deserved. The humiliation of having their faults laid bare. There was no hesitancy in her actions, even as she pulled out the sledgehammer, lifting it and swinging swiftly. The crash of hammer to glass was utterly satisfying, shattering their stupid smiles and sending both pictures crashing to the floor in a mess of paint and broken frames.

Her heart was still racing, the blood rushing in her ears and the energy crackled hotly beneath her skin. It was as if her feet moved on their own, packing up the bag and paint cans as she set her sights on the room only a few doors down.

That door, however was locked. But it was a matter of smashing the sledgehammer against the handle, and she couldn’t help but breathe out a small laugh when the metal clattered to the floor, the sound muffled by the roar of the crowd as Castleport High scored.

The room hadn’t changed much. Rachel was sure it was the same piano in the corner, still sleek and shiny and most likely still perfectly in tune. The same three rows of chairs, neatly lining the curved platforms that had served as their constant hangout spot, during and after glee club.

It was funny how comforting the space had been; a haven from a place that felt wholly antagonistic most days and lonely on the others.

Rachel dropped the duffel to the floor, small fingers still clenched tightly around the long handle of the sledgehammer when she stopped in front of the large trophy case in along one wall. There was a gap in the winning years, but the most awarded, she regarded with a small prideful smile was theirs.

Hers.

She was the star, the one who carried everyone else, only to be shoved to the side, literally, in the group picture. Santana had smoothly knocked her shoulder with the strength of a linebacker, sending Rachel to the floor, just as the camera clicked.

The laughter had echoed off the walls that day, and though Sam helped her to her feet, the damage had been done. Her humiliation immortalized in the yearbook forever.

So she swung the hammer, letting the smash through the layers of glass and shiny gold trophies and brightly colored ribbons, and wooden plaques, over and over until the memories were nothing but splinters and shards at her feet.

The high, she had to admit, was fantastic. Her hands trembled, not of fear, but excitement, eager to watch the fallout from the cold little motel room on the outskirts of town. And for good measure, She reached for the red paint again, steadying her hand enough to leave a parting message dripping in the same, garish red on the chalkboard for her former classmates, leaving no room to debate exactly what she thought of them, what they all knew to be true. That they were just as false, just as phony, just as fake as they were ten years ago. Nothing had changed.

But it would.

She would make them see.

#cportevent #cporthomecoming #glee rp #glee rpg #rachel berry rp #ch: rachel berry #para: rachel #type: paras

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caslikescoffeeandfreckles · 7 years

Text

For @prayforjensen

A fem!destiel coffeeshop au with barista!cas and mechanic!dean. Based on this post about my favorite fem!destiel headcanons.

There’s an odd grumbling noise coming from the engine and Cas groans, easing her foot off the gas.

“Oh come on, not today, please not today.”

The clock on the dash is taunting her and she sneers at is as she races through the quiet streets. There’s no one out yet. They’re all still in bed. Because it’s fucking four in the goddamn morning and no one in their right mind should be awake right now.

But Castielle Novak has a coffee shop to open. So the sorry sons of bitches who have to be up at six can actually function and feel alive when they show up for work.

The grumbling continues as Cas drives but by some miracle she makes it to the shop.

Opening isn’t half bad once Cas is in the swing of things and about three triple espressos in. She lowers the chairs, preps the machines, starts brewing the house blends.

Gabe dances through the door around 4:45, late as always, and heads to the kitchen to start the pastries.

At 6:30 on the dot, she flips the sign and waits for the angry mob of bitter caffeine-addicted zombies to swarm her.

The customers incite a whole other sort of exhaustion in Cas. In just an hour, they’ve brought her to her limit and it’s all she can do to just stand there, recite orders, and wish them a good day.

But around 8:30 she gets her pick-me-up.

And her name is Deanna Winchester. She’s a mechanic who works just down the street, as Cas has learned during the months the woman has been coming in for her grande Columbian roast.

Always a grande Columbian roast.

Always black.

“‘Morning, Cas!”

The greeting washes over Cas like pure energy, soaking through Cas’s skin so she has the strength to smile for the first time in hours as she looks up into bright green eyes.

“Hello, Deanna.”

Deanna’s smile is easy as she leans against the counter, eyes flicking across the menu as if she’s going to order something different.

“Mmm, I’ll have a grande Columbian please.”

Cas already has it punched into the register. “One-fifty.”

Deanna fishes two dollar bills out of her wallet. “How’s your morning been?”

“Oh, the usual,” Cas says, returning two quarters. Deanna drops them in the tip jar. “Um, how about yours?”

Deanna’s eyes shift to Cas’s and her smile lifts on one side. “Awesome.”

It takes a moment for Cas to get into gear but then a customer in the middle of the line coughs loudly and she’s stumbling to the bar, pouring Deanna’s cup.

Deanna is still smiling when Cas turns to hand her the cup and it makes Cas pause. “What?”

“Hm? Nothing,” Deanna assures her, reaching out to take the cup. Their fingers brush and Cas hates herself for the way it makes her stomach stir. Deanna raises the cup to her lips, moaning through the first scalding sip like she always does and Cas has to hide her clenched fists under the counter. “God, it’s perfect. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cas.”

Cas tries to laugh it off and pretend like her face isn’t on fire. “G-glad you like it.”

“Have a good one.”

“Oh, yeah, ugh, you too,” Cas manages to get out as Deanna steps away and turns to leave.

It’s the most disastrous, embarrassing part of Cas’s morning but she lives for them. The rest of the day is smooth sailing compared to those four minutes and soon it’s noon and she’s clocking out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she calls to Gabe and the rest of the team as she hightails it out of the shop.

She drops into her car, completely worn out, and fights the key into the ignition. Turns it.

Nothing.

She tries again and the engine sounds like it’s making some sort of effort for about three seconds and then it’s gone.

“Fuck,” Cas hisses, slapping the dashboard. “I thought we agreed not today!”

With a snarl, she climbs out of the car and pops the hood. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?” she demands. “Is there a leak? Is your battery dead? Did you blow, like, a gasket or something because I am about to!”

“Everything okay?”

Cas startles and spins and nearly explodes there on the spot when she sees Deanna standing just a few feet away in her jumpsuit. She’s got the sleeves tied around her waist and her white tank top is streaked with oil like some kind of sex goddess.

It takes all the damn air out of Cas’s lungs and all she can do is stare.

“Cas?” Deanna asks, stepping closer. “You okay?”

“C-car. Won’t start.” It’s all she can manage and Cas wants to die the second she says it.

“Oh? Mind if I take a look?”

Cas can’t really say yes or no so she just stares and let’s Deanna interpret that however she likes. Apparently she sees it as a “sure” because she steps right up to the car, close enough to brush Cas’s arm.

“Jesus, Cas, how old is this thing?” Deanna asks as she digs around.

“Um. I don’t- I’m not... sure.”

“Well, she is in dire need of a check-up.” She straights suddenly, brows lifted. “And your problem is a broken starter.”

“Is that bad?”

“Nah. I can fix it right here. Let me go get my tools.”

Cas just nods as Deanna runs across the street to a sleek black car. She watches Deanna lift the trunk and pull out a giant tool box and she’s breathless all over again.

She doesn’t say a single word as Deanna jacks the car up and slides beneath it. And she has no idea how long the woman is under there.

But when Deanna crawls out she’s covered in a fresh layer of sweat and her hair is a wild mess and Cas is certain that she’s having a stroke.

“Should be good to go. Wanna try it?”

Cas nods and makes her way to the driver’s seat, clumsily fitting the key into the ignition and turning it.

The engine roars to life and Deanna claps her hands together once before closing the hood and lowering the car.

“Thank you so much for all of your help,” Cas says. “I can’t- I can’t afford to pay you right now but I-”

Deanna waves the rest of her sentence off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.”

It doesn’t sit well with Cas but she doesn’t know what else to say at the moment. “I, ugh, well thanks again. You really saved me.”

“No problem. But try to get her into the shop sometime soon, okay?” Deanna pats the hood. “This old lady is in serious need of some TLC.”

Cas smiles through her nerves. “Yeah. I will. Promise.”

Deanna smiles back. “Okay. Then I’ll see you soon. Tomorrow. Probably.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you, ugh, tomorrow.”

And she does see Deanna the next morning and somehow the woman’s smile seems even brighter than, like she’s radiating sunbeams and it turns Cas into a hot mess.

She still hasn’t thought of a way to pay Deanna back so she slips a muffin across the counter along with the coffee, scribbling a quick “Thanks again!” on the package.

Deanna’s smile softens when she reads it and she coughs. “No problem, Cas.”

She does it again the next day and the next and it continues even when Gabe starts sending her the stink eye for just giving away his pastries.

Deanna is always sweet as she accepts them, even saying it’s unnecessary a few times, but Cas persists.

Until the morning when she’s sliding a scone across the bar and instead of scooping up the pastry, Deanna’s hand lands on Cas’s. Cas looks up and Deanna is wearing her crooked smile, the one that puts butterflies in Cas’s chest.

She leans in close.

“How about slipping me your number instead?”

Also tagging @wanderingcas @casandtheimpala @destielonfire @randomdestielfangirl As always, let me know if you want to be added to my tag list or removed :)

#destiel #fem!destiel #femslash #glassesdeannetwork #au #coffeeshop au #barista!cas #mechanic!dean #fluff #fem!dean #fem!cas #mine

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