#Source: Isle of Dogs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

galedekarios · 11 months ago

Text

waterdeep & the city's wards: dock ward - part 1

"The splendors that await you in Waterdeep are legendary. Each of the city’s wards is detailed in this work, telling you what to expect depending on where you are, as well as what thrilling things you might see and do."

[from: Volo's Waterdeep Enchiridion]

waterdeep is divided into a system of wards and civic districts. the six recognized wards are:

dock ward

castle ward

north ward

sea ward

southern ward

trades ward

notable parts of the city that aren't considered wards are the city of the dead and deepwater harbour and its surrounding isles (deepwater isle and stormhaven island).

in this meta, i'd like to first focus on the dock ward of waterdeep.

the dock ward is often theorised to be the ward that houses gale's tower. i'd recommend reading this post by @dailygale or this post by @elspethdekarios, as well as the posts linked within them, for further details.

the dock ward in spring

map of the dock ward, 1491 dr [source]

youtube

dock ward ambience by dungeon crawler audio

general

"Ports, by their very nature, are unclean, noisy, crowded, and constantly busy places where few outsiders are welcome. Waterdeep's Dock Ward fits this mold, though its notoriety and bedlam are, if nothing else, slightly muted by the tales told up and down the Sword Coast. It was best described, by a wizard of no little note, as a riotous, semi-stationary but nigh-perpetual brawl that covers entire acres and is interrupted only by small buildings, intermittent trade business, an errant dog or two, and a few brave watchmen (who do manage to keep the chaos from spreading beyond the docks), the whole lot wallowing in the stench of rotting fish. Still, in all, twas quite a lusty, intriguing place to spend an evening. City watch patrols and guard contingents keep this ward in a semblance of order, traveling in well-armed groups of eight during the day and groups of twelve or more after dusk. Many of the roads are gravel-packed dirt, once the docks and cobblestone access roads to the Way of the Dragon are left behind. The dark, mud-strewn alleys are endless in Dock Ward, and they hide many dangers, despite the alertness of Waterdeep's defenders, so travel in large, heavily armed groups if you must. Dock Ward's boundaries, quickly stated, are the harbor and the southern boundaries of Castle and Trades Wards. The northern boundary runs north and east on Lackpurse Lane to Belnimbra's Street, over and down Gut Alley, and turns east to Shesstra's Street. Moving east and turning south onto Book Street, the boundary moves east again on Drakiir Street until it meets the Way of the Dragon, the eastern perimeter of Dock Ward. The southern border of the ward is, of course, the docks and the harbor." [source: waterdeep dragon heist]

in his waterdeep enchiridion, volo provides his impressions of the dock ward:

"The Dock Ward was long considered the most dangerous district in the city, but the Field Ward has since taken that title. I don’t doubt the residents of the Dock Ward are glad of it, for in some respects this area has never truly deserved its bad reputation. Yes, aside from the Field Ward, this is the area where most of Waterdeep’s poor reside. Yes, it is home to some of the least literate people in the city. Yes, most of its taverns are inhabited by habitual drinkers, and far too many inns charge by the hour. But all must concede this: the residents of the Dock Ward often work the hardest while living under the harshest conditions. Warehouses, poorhouses, and tenements dominate much of the area. Streets are steep throughout, and few have space alongside for pedestrians. Wandering through the ward can be a bewildering journey without a guide. Except in the immediate vicinity of the piers, shop signs and advertising of any kind are rare, and warehouses and other businesses often have no sign at all. You either know where you are going and have reason to be there — or you are lost, and a likely mark for pickpockets or worse. Streetlamps don’t fare well in the Dock Ward. Their candles, oils, and glass are too regularly stolen or smashed. The Guild of Chandlers and Lamplighters makes a halfhearted attempt to repair the streetlamps at the start of each season, but for most of the year, locals are forced to carry their own light when traveling these streets at night. The colors of the Dock Ward are burgundy and orange, and its mascot is a swordfish that has always been depicted as green for reasons lost to time. The folk of the Dock Ward take competition seriously, and they frequently draft their champions from the rough-and-tumble sailors who come to the city. (Some say they draft pirates, but that is pure slander.) Frequent complaints arise that these women and men are more citizens of the sea than of the Dock Ward itself. But if they register with a magister and pay taxes, they are as welcome to compete as any long-term resident of Waterdeep." [from: Volo's Waterdeep Enchiridion]

the sentiment that the dock ward is "dangerous" is echoed by elminster as well:

In the words of Elminster himself, the Dock Ward was a "riotous, nigh-perpetual brawl that covers entire acres, interrupted only by small buildings, intermittent trade businesses, an errant dog or two, and a few brave watchguards, who manage to keep the chaos from spreading beyond the docks; the whole lot wallowing in the stench of rotting fish." [source]

neighbourhoods of the dock ward

the living conditions in these neighbourhoods is described as ranging from "poor" to "modest":

Abovefish: Aeldinmuth Court, Arun's Bend, Drawn Sword Court, the Everwind, Fishgut, Frostraen, the Hobbles, the Hooks, the Krakenway, Leera's Trod, the Lurch, Redcloaks, Sakiir's Street, Scoundrel's Cradle, the Slide, Spider's Web, Three Daggers

Belowfish: Asteril's Trod, the Bitters , Cod Lane , Essunmar's Dream, the Ghemmerwalk , Greathoist, Horizons, Manycrates, the Odd , Old Elbermaen, Old Tar's Walk, Pressbow, Shipwright's Square, the Sirenwalk , Six Casks , Two Flasks

Eastsnail: Amanaster's Lane, Blackwell, Bulette Point, Candle Lane, Doerlunn, Emeskine's Shine, Foxden, Knightsfoot, Marvynhurst, Melinter's Alley, Oubliette, the Pearls, Philosopher's Court

Southdocks: Cedar Wharf, the Fishgut, Hoedmar's Trod, Manylines, Ormibar's Sky, Sailmaker's Run, Sambril's Lane, Smuggler's Run, Southshore, Sperival, Tower Watch

[source: waterdeep dragon heist]

landmarks and notable locations in the dock ward

below you'll find a collection of landmarks like the mistshore and notable locations like guildhalls, inns, temples, streets and alleys, as well as other places of note.

mistshore

mistshore is part of the northern harbour:

"After the Spellplague of 1385 DR, Waterdeep went into a decline and maintenance of the harbor was neglected. Many ships sank or were scuttled in the northern harbor and eventually Waterdeep's outcasts created a small community on the wrecked ship hulls. The harbor water was polluted and smelled horribly. In 1491 DR, Mistshore was largely destroyed in a massive fire, with most ships burning down to the waterline and having to be towed out of the harbor to prevent other vessels from running afoul the wreckage. By 1492 DR, most buildings in the neighborhood were still burned and abandoned. Mistshore was considered so dangerous that the City Watch refused to send patrols into the area." [source: forgottenrealms wiki]

notable locations within mistshore include:

Crib "This collection of partially sunken ships was the hideout of the crime lord Arowell prior to his death at the hands of Cerest Elenithil. The ships were arranged in a circle with suspended platforms in the center. Arowell sponsored gladiatorial contests to amuse the inhabitants of Mistshore." Dusk to Dawn "This tavern was nothing more than a tent that moved to different locations in Mistshore nightly." Hearthfire "The wretched inhabitants of Mistshore created a permanent firepit on which to cook." Waltzing Ferryman "Sea wraiths kept the inhabitants of Mistshore from approaching this old wreck. It was inhabited by an old spellscarred mage and his friend." [source: forgottenrealms wiki]

guildhalls, inns and taverns in the dock ward

"All sailors who regularly sail into Waterdeep have their favorite taverns and lodgings, but all are familiar with Cookhouse Hall, the large, echoing, hammerbeam-ceilinged hall where hot meals (usually roast beef, stir-fried vegetables, and a highly peppered stew) are served to all who line up and pay 2 cp for a meal. Minted drinking water is even provided. You don't have to be a sailor to eat here. It's open from dawn to dusk, and has fed many a weary (or poor or down on his luck) traveler who doesn't mind a little coarse company and dinner conversation. The Shipmasters' Hall, by contrast, is a private inn and dining club for captains, first mates, and ship owners and their escorts only. It's very old and elegant, with polished dark wood paneling everywhere, shining brass fittings, comfortably cushioned brocade seats, and heavy plush drapes. One of the largest privately owned buildings in Waterdeep is the shipbuilding shed of Arnagus the Shipwright, who's crafted many of the fine ships that ply the Sword Coast. Owing to the dangers of sabotage and fire, he doesn't welcome visitors, but many folk go to the docks where the slipway from his shed runs down to the harbor to peer in at the work going on. A ship launching always draws great crowds. It's the nearest thing after brawl watching to a spectator sport that Dock Ward has. The following guildhalls can all be found in this ward: the Butchers' Guildhall, League Hall, Mariners' Hall, Watermen's Hall, Seaswealth Hall, Coopers' Rest, Shippers' Hall, Shipwrights' House, and the Metal House of Wonders. The Most Diligent League of Sail-Makers and Cordwainers has as its headquarters the Full Sails tavern. The Muleskull Tavern serves as headquarters for the Dungsweepers' Guild." [source: worldanvil]

a list on inns and taverns in the dock ward from the forgottenrealms wiki:

a list on inns and taverns in the dock ward from oakthorne:

a list of shops and businesses in the dock ward from the forgottenrealms wiki:

a list of streets and alleyways in the dock ward from the forgottenrealms wiki:

a list of streets and alleyways in the dock ward from oakthorn:

listing out the following places of note with short descriptions:

Fishgut Court: A cobblestone court off Sail and Dock Streets where many strange happenings occur during nights of the full moon. Many know that Selûne herself hid in a mortal form in the tavern nearby, and her blessings continue to touch the courtyard.

Smuggler's Dock: The most isolated corner of the ward and also its safest, under the watchful eyes of Mirt's Mansion and the Watching Tower, used often for lovers' rendezvous.

Black Well Court: The small back-alley home to a polluted, monster-infested well that is sealed by order of the Lords, though it is occasionally broken into – or out of – and creatures haunt the shadows here before they are dealt with and the well re-sealed.

Manysteps Alley: A narrow alley that is the habitat of soothsayers, fortune tellers and thieves galore.

Melinter's Court: A dark courtyard often thick with the pipe smoke of curbside philosophers and corner sages (and sometimes the plotting of wizards).

Philosophers' Court: Also known by natives as "the Foolsquare", a daily (and often nightly) meeting place for intellectuals, old sages and drunken nobles alike found arguing over topics "too esoteric for a common mind".

Round Again Alley: An alley that doubles back on itself and provides a testing ground for many apprentices' illusions.

Three Thrown Daggers Alley: An alley that suffers from a magical curse that causes three random blades to fly from nowhere to attack passersby in the alley.

other notable locations are:

ilmater's safe harbour

"Ilmater's Safe Harbor was a soup kitchen, run by the Ilmatari priestess Mother Brenia, in the Dock Ward of Waterdeep in the late 15th century DR. It was known to be frequented by almost every beggar in that ward. The building's layout consisted of a cooking area, a dining room, a small room in the back, and a cellar. These rooms were provided illumination by means of lanterns and a heavy, iron chandelier of candles. Within the building's cellar was a hidden door, which opened to rough-hewn rock tunnels leading into the Warrens. Being a soup kitchen, this establishment provided free meals for the impoverished citizens of the Dock Ward. Additionally, in the building's small back room, Mother Brenia tended to the sick. [...] At some point during the late 15th century DR there was a string of disappearances of both beggars and stray dogs in the Dock Ward. This began not long after Ulmani, Rik Milesan, and some others began volunteering at the soup kitchen. A month later, the City Watchman Girnan Svann found himself frustrated at his superiors' not viewing the string of disappearances as something worth looking into. He went on to hire a group of adventurers at the Blue Mermaid to investigate, informing them that each missing beggar was connected to Ilmater's Safe Harbor, but that it could be a false lead. Looking around the establishment, the adventurers eventually discovered its hidden cellar door. Traveling through it, they came upona group of thugs dressed as Sharrans and accompanied by horribly mutated dogs and wolves. After beating up the thugs, the adventurers recognized some of them as the newer volunteers and that their Sharran identities were merely a red herring to distract from the mysterious mage they were truly kidnapping people for." [source: forgottenrealms wiki]

stinking sands

"The Stinking Sands was a local name for a stretch of beach in the southeastern most corner of the Dock Ward in Waterdeep. This beach was bordered by Dock Street and Deepwater Harbor. Along Dock Street the notable buildings that overlooked it included the Fellowship Warehouse, the Smokehouse, Telethar Leatherworks, a guard barracks, and the East Torch Tower. When the Laughing Lady sank near Waterdeep in 1372 DR, the caravel was dredged up onto this beach by barges belonging to Raulinvur's Ropehaul and by wizard members of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors." [source: forgottenrealmswiki]

starry cradles orphanage

"The Starry Cradles orphanage is a Dock Ward orphanage run by Matron Griselda Hoppletun, a halfling care-taker, and funded by the House of the Moon and the Selûnites clergy thereof." [source: worldanvil]

wavehall of valkur

"The Wavehall of Valkur was a temple to Valkur located in Waterdeep during the late 15th century DR. The temple was built during the late 15th century DR. During the Year of the Scarlet Witch, 1491 DR, the Wavemaster of the temple was killed by Mirt the Moneylender over a dispute involving the priest's refusal to bring a deceased ally back to life. Valkur was a minor Faerûnian god of sailors and their ships, as well as favorable winds and naval combat. The Captain of the Waves was the very picture of the daring sea captain, one capable of sailing his vessel through any disaster the Gods of Fury could unleash." [source: forgottenrealmswiki]

this concludes my collection of information about waterdeep's dock ward for now. it's a sprawling topic, each and every ward, and i'm sure there are things i missed or forgot!

still, i hope this was of use to someone other than myself!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #waterdeep #dock ward #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #misc: reference #series: waterdeepwards

180 notes · View notes

mrsxco · 11 months ago

Text

Mine.xoxo - Jay Descendants

Summary: You and Jay (Descendants) are friends with benefits and are with each other most of the time but when Uma and her crew came to Auradon to help Mal for the week you and Harry Hook started getting close and Jay was jealous even Carlos and his pet talking dog Dude noticed it, so he had to remind you who you belong to

warnings: Oral [both receiving] fingering, clit play. Cum play. Making out. Swearing. Pet names. Dirty talk. Foreplay

Note: Yall this is my first time it might not make sense but yk oh well

╭──────────────────────────────.★..─╮

Like a Harley in the wind, got you bragging to your friends the way you ride

╰─..★.──────────────────────────────╯

In the vibrant heart of Auradon, where the castle sparkled like a jewel against the brilliant blue sky, the air crackled with excitement and tension. You, the daughter of Mother Gothel and Jay, the effortlessly charming son of Jafar, had a relationship that was anything but ordinary. Friends with benefits, you spent most of your time entwined in each other's lives, sharing laughter, secrets, and a few heated moments that ignited more than just friendship but was there need to stop the tension? Yes.

"Hey, Harry," I called out as I tossed a pillow at his retreating form. He was already halfway out the door, his messy brown hair sticking up in every direction from our impromptu pillow fight. His blue eyes glinted with mischief as he caught it mid-air, tossing it back at me with a grin.

We'd been friends for as long as I could remember, growing up in the shadow of our parents' legendary rivalry. Jay and I had always had a thing for each other, but our friendship with Harry had been a constant in the ever-changing tides of our lives. His cheeky banter and the way he could make me laugh when I was feeling down had become a source of comfort and strength. Our friendship was a safe haven, a place where I could be myself without the weight of expectations.

But when Uma and her crew arrived, something shifted. Harry's usual flirtatious glances turned into something more intense, his smiles reaching deeper into my soul. We found ourselves spending more time together, laughing louder, sharing secrets that seemed too precious to be whispered to anyone else. He'd lean in closer when we talked, and I'd catch myself inhaling the faint scent of the sea that clung to him, a reminder of his pirate heritage. Our eyes would meet and linger for just a beat too long, sending a thrill through me that was entirely new.

Jay noticed the change immediately. His easy going demeanour grew tense, his jokes less frequent. He'd watch us from across the room, his eyes narrowing when Harry's hand would brush against mine, or when we'd share a knowing smile. Carlos and Dude, ever the observant duo, picked up on it too. They'd exchange glances that were as clear as the neon signs in the Isle of the Lost. It was as if they were silently communicating their concern over the shifting dynamics of our friendship.

Carlos, noticed the shift. With Dude, his loyal dog, wagging his tail beside him, he approached Jay, who was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you and Harry lounging on a nearby bench.

“Hey, man, you good?” Carlos asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Jay's eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah, just watching.”

“Watching what? You mean watching her flirt with Hook?” Carlos shot back, exasperated. “You know she’s with you, right?”

“Is she?” Jay replied, a hint of bitterness lacing his words. “Because it sure doesn’t look that way.”

Dude barked, as if to punctuate the point, trying to bring some levity to the situation. Carlos sighed, rolling his eyes. “Jay, you need to remind her who she belongs to,” he said, more serious now. “It’s obvious she likes you. Just… show her one of these days.”

One evening, I stumbled upon Jay in the training room, sweat beads glistening on his forehead as he parried with a dummy. The clanging of metal on metal filled the air, echoing off the stone walls. His movements were sharp, agitated. Harry had just left after a particularly flirty conversation, and the tension in the room was palpable.

"Couldn't stay away from the lovebirds, could you?" Jay quipped without looking up from his training.

I rolled my eyes at his dramatic tone. "Don't be ridiculous, Jay," I said, leaning against the archway. "We're just friends having fun."

Jay stopped abruptly, panting slightly. He turned to face me, the practice sword still in hand. "Friends, huh?" His eyes searched mine, and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. There was something in his gaze that made me want to confess every little thought I'd had about Harry. "Is that all it is?"

He took a step closer, and the scent of sweat and leather filled the air. It was a stark contrast to Harry's clean, salty scent. Jay's eyes darkened, and he set the sword down with a clatter. Before I could react, he was right in front of me, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle but firm, a silent claim that sent a shiver down my spine.

"I know what you're doing," he said, his voice low and gruff. "But you can't have both of us, Y/N."

My heart pounded in my chest as Jay's words hung in the air. He'd clearly been thinking about the same thing I had been, the growing tension between the three of us. But I didn't know how to tell him that I didn't want to choose. That every time Harry looked at me with those piercing eyes, I felt a pull I couldn't ignore. And yet, Jay had always been there for me, through thick and thin.

"Jay," I began, my voice wavering slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

But before I could say anything else, Jay had grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of the archway and into the dimly lit corridor. His grip was firm, almost painful, and his eyes burned with a possessiveness that was both thrilling and terrifying. He was usually so laid back, so this side of him was uncharted territory.

"Let's go," he said through gritted teeth, leading me towards the dorms. I could feel the tension in his body, the urgency of his steps. I didn't fight him; I was too surprised, too overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all.

As we approached the door to our wing, Harry stepped out of the shadows, his eyes widening at the sight of Jay's grip on my wrist. "What's going on here?" he asked, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air.

Jay's eyes never left mine. "It's nothing you need to worry about, Harry," he said, his tone laced with a challenge.

But Harry didn't back down. He stepped closer, his chest puffing out slightly. "If it involves her, it's my business," he said, his voice firm.

Jay shot him a look that could've frozen lava. "Back off, Hook," he warned, his grip on my wrist tightening. "This is between me and Y/N."

Ignoring Harry's protests, Jay tugged me along the corridor, his strides long and purposeful. We reached his dorm room, and before I could blink, he'd pushed the door open and practically thrown me onto the bed. The plush comforter muffled my gasp as I landed, and I looked up at him in surprise. His eyes searched mine, a storm of emotions raging behind them. Jealousy, anger, and something else—desire.

"What are you doing?" I managed to ask, my voice a whisper.

Jay's eyes were like thunderclouds, full of unspoken words and emotions. He didn't answer but instead closed the door behind him with a firm click that seemed to echo through the room. His hand didn't leave my wrist, and he stepped closer, towering over me. The room felt suddenly much smaller, the air thick with a mix of his scent and the anticipation of what was about to happen.

"Jay, please," I murmured, trying to sit up, but he was having none of it. He leaned over me, his face a mask of determination.

"You need to remember who you belong to," he said, his voice a low growl. His hand slid from my wrist to my cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw with a firmness that sent a thrill through me.

Jay's eyes searched mine, looking for something—confirmation, perhaps, or maybe just reassurance. His other hand found its way to my waist, and he pulled me closer, so that our bodies were almost touching. His gaze dropped to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. But instead, he leaned in and whispered, "You're mine, Y/N."

The words sent a thrill through me, and I felt myself melting into the bed beneath him. He kissed me then, hard and possessive, his tongue demanding entry to my mouth. His hand slid under my shirt, and he began to trace my ribs, his touch setting my skin on fire. His fingers found my breast, and he squeezed gently, eliciting a gasp from me. His thumb found my hardened nipple and began to tease it, sending bolts of pleasure straight to my core.

Jay pulled back just enough to tug my shirt over my head, his eyes never leaving mine. He dropped it to the floor and leaned back in, his mouth finding my neck, kissing and sucking gently. I moaned his name as his hand slid down my stomach and into my pants, his fingers expertly finding my wetness. He groaned into my ear, "You're so fucking wet for me, baby."

He played with my clit, rubbing it in tight circles, making me squirm beneath him. His other hand held the back of my neck, keeping me in place as he whispered filthy things that made me blush. I could feel my orgasm building, my breaths coming in short gasps. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice gruff with desire. "You like it when I make you feel good."

I nodded, unable to form words as his mouth moved to my chest, kissing and licking my breasts before taking one in his mouth. He sucked hard, and I moaned, arching my back. His teeth grazed my nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. "Fuck, Jay," I gasped, my hands tangling in his hair. He smirked up at me, the look in his eyes dark and hungry.

He slid down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire across my stomach. He pulled my pants down roughly, exposing me to the cool air. He took in the sight of me, his eyes glinting with lust. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse. He spread my legs wider, his hand guiding himself to my entrance. "So fucking beautiful."

He didn't wait for a response, plunging into me without hesitation. The feeling was intense, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming out. Jay knew exactly what he was doing, filling me up completely and hitting all the right spots. His movements grew faster, his breathing heavier. I could feel his passion, his need to claim me, to make me his. He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hips.

"You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I've missed this."

Jay's words sent a shiver down my spine as he continued to explore my body with his mouth. He kissed and licked my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone, making me squirm beneath him. His hand moved down to my panties, sliding them aside to expose my wetness. He groaned against my skin as he felt how ready I was for him.

"You want this, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "You want me to make you cum."

I nodded, my eyes rolling back in my head as his thumb found my clit again, his other fingers sliding into me. He began to pump in and out in a steady rhythm, curling his fingers to hit my g-spot. I moaned, my body responding to his touch like it had been starved.

"Yeah, that's it," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine. "Cum for me, baby."

Jay's fingers worked their magic, his touch sending me soaring closer to the edge. His thumb flicked over my clit, and his index and middle fingers curled inside me, stroking that spot that made me see stars. I couldn't help but think about Harry, his gentle touch and sweet words. But Jay was right here, his body pressing into mine, his roughness a stark contrast to Harry's finesse.

"Forget about him," Jay growled, as if reading my mind. "I'm the one who knows exactly how to make you scream."

He slammed into me, his fingers working their magic in a way that made me see stars. Harry's touch was like a gentle sea breeze, but Jay's was a tempest, rough and all-consuming. The room spun around us as he claimed me, his words a declaration of ownership that sent a thrill through my body. His thumb circled my clit with the precision of a maestro, pushing me closer to the brink.

With a final, desperate arch of my back, I gave in to the pleasure. My nails dug into Jay's shoulders as my orgasm crashed over me, wave after wave of bliss. He didn't let up, his strokes becoming more urgent as he chased his own release. His eyes bore into mine, demanding that I acknowledge the power he held over me. And at that moment, I did. I was his, body and soul.

As the last tremors of pleasure subsided, Jay pulled away, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked down at me, his expression a mix of triumph and something else—fear, perhaps? Did he think I would reject him after this display of possessiveness? But instead of speaking, he leaned down and kissed me again, his tongue claiming my mouth as thoroughly as he had claimed my body.

His hand slid down my side, his fingers brushing against my still-sensitive skin. I felt a jolt of excitement as he reached down to unbuckle his pants, his eyes never leaving mine. He pulled out his cock, thick and hard, and I couldn't help but stare at it. It had been a while since I'd seen him like this, and the sight of him made me wet all over again.

With a smug grin, Jay lined himself up with my entrance and pushed in with one swift motion. I gasped, the sudden fullness making me see stars. He didn't give me a moment to adjust, instead starting to thrust in and out at a breakneck pace. His hips pounded into me, his movements fast and furious, like he was trying to brand me from the inside out. Each stroke sent a jolt of pleasure through my body, making me moan uncontrollably.

The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with his thrusts. I could feel myself stretching around him, accommodating his size and the ferocity of his passion. He was like a storm, unyielding and unstoppable. And just like a storm, he brought with him a sense of excitement and danger that was utterly intoxicating.

Jay's hips moved with a fierce rhythm, his cock plunging deep inside me with a speed that left me breathless. Each stroke sent shockwaves of pleasure through my core, making me clench around him. His eyes never left mine, a silent challenge in their depths. He was marking me, reminding me of who I belonged to, and with every thrust, I felt myself slipping further under his spell.

His hand found my clit again, his thumb pressing down as he fucked me. The combination of his thick cock filling me and his skilled thumb on my sensitive bud was too much. I felt my orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to drown me. My nails dug into his back, leaving marks that would surely be a testament to the passion we shared.

Jay's breathing grew ragged, his eyes locked on mine. "You're going to cum for me," he ordered, his voice thick with lust. "Cum for me, baby."

With a final, punishing thrust, he sent me hurtling over the edge again. My body convulsed around him, my muscles tightening as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. Jay groaned, his own release following quickly. He collapsed on top of me, his body heavy but welcome. For a moment, we lay there, panting and sweaty, our hearts racing in time with one another.

As our breaths began to even out, Jay rolled off me, pulling me into his arms. He kissed my forehead gently, his touch tender in the aftermath of our passion. He wrapped the comforter around us, his strong arms providing a warm, secure cocoon. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, soothing the tension that had built up there. He whispered sweet nothings into my ear, his voice a gentle rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

But our peaceful moment was shattered by the sound of knocking on the door. Jay tensed, his grip on me tightening for a second before he let out a sigh. He kissed me softly on the cheek. "Stay here," he murmured, sliding out of bed. He grabbed a robe from the back of the chair and slipped it on, tying it tightly around his waist.

I watched him move across the room, his muscles rippling with the aftershocks of passion. The knocking grew louder, more insistent. Jay's expression grew darker, and I knew it was Harry on the other side of the door. He'd come to find me, to check on me, and now he was about to walk into a scene that would make everything so much more complicated.

Jay pulled the comforter over me, tucking it around my body until only my head was visible. He bent down, whispering in my ear, "Pretend to be asleep, baby. I'll handle this."

My heart pounded in my chest as I nodded, feigning slumber. The knocking grew more insistent, and I heard the door creak open. Jay's footsteps approached the bed, and I could feel his gaze on me, appraising.

"What the hell, Jay?" Harry's voice was sharp, a clear edge of anger underlying his words.

Jay didn't bother to turn around, instead, he just tightened the sash of his robe and called out, "What do you want, Harry?"

"Is Y/N with you?" Harry's voice was tight with concern, a hint of anger seeping through.

Jay's eyes narrowed as he turned to face the door, his gaze lingering on Harry's shocked expression as he took in the rumpled bed and the discarded clothing scattered across the floor. "What makes you think she's here?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.

"I...I just...I know she was looking for you," Harry stuttered, his eyes darting to me, trying to gauge if I was okay.

Jay chuckled darkly. "She's fine, Harry. More than fine." He glanced back at me, his eyes lingering on my exposed breasts before turning back to Harry. "In fact, she's sleeping like a baby. Didn't you hear how tired she was?"

The air grew thick with tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Harry's eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched into a fist. "What did you do?" he demanded, taking a step into the room.

Jay's smile was cold, the lines of his face hardening as he stepped in front of the bed, blocking Harry's view of me. "What I had to," he said, his voice a low growl. "You think you can just waltz in here and take what's mine?"

The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the possessive claim he'd made on my body just moments before. Harry's eyes flicked to me, and I felt a flash of embarrassment as he took in the sight of my half-dressed form. I burrowed deeper into the covers, hoping he couldn't see the blush that was surely creeping up my neck.

Jay stepped closer to Harry, his robe gaping slightly, revealing the sweat-slicked muscles of his chest. "Back off, Hook," he warned, his voice a low growl. "You're not welcome here."

The room was a testament to the passion that had just unfolded, the air still thick with the scent of desire. Harry's eyes flicked to the rumpled bed, and his gaze grew cold as he took in the scene. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for the comforter that was barely covering my body. "Jay," he said, his voice a warning.

Jay's hand shot out, grabbing Harry's wrist. "Don't you dare," he spat, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire. "This is your final warning, Harry. Stay away from her."

Harry's eyes narrowed, his grip on the comforter tightening. "This isn't over," he said, his voice a low threat.

Jay's smile grew, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, it's over," he said, his voice laced with a confidence that sent a shiver down my spine. He didn't move from his protective stance, not even when Harry's hand hovered so close to me. "Now, get the fuck out."

Jay just smirked, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "I know," he said, his voice low and filled with a challenge. "But for now, she's mine."

With that, he turned back to me, sliding into the bed and wrapping his arms around me. His warmth was comforting, his embrace tight and secure. I could feel his heart beating against my back, the steady rhythm a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions whirling inside me. He pulled me closer, his breath hot against my neck as he whispered, "I'm not letting you go, baby."

Jay's grip was firm, but his touch was gentle, his fingers tracing patterns on my bare skin that sent shivers down my spine. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered sweet nothings, his voice a soothing balm to the rawness left by our encounter. The room was silent except for the occasional clank of metal from the corridor, a distant reminder of the world outside our little bubble.

#descendants #smut #booboo stewart #jay descendants #harry hook

135 notes · View notes

julieverne · 1 year ago

Text

Okay so

Maura Isles would never have gotten rid of Bass.

In season 1 we see him in the first and last episodes. She's so worried about him that she takes his heavy ass to work instead of leaving him with his usual sitter. She shields his body with hers (from memory) and he saves her life (she'd have been found if she wasn't crouching to check on her tortoise).

She calls him buddy. She calls him sweetie.

He's her only friend prior to season 1, where Jane and Maura start tentatively friending. He's a misunderstood stand in for her own psyche, for her own maladjusted attempts to fit into society.

She's had him since he was a baby. They grew up together; they both appear to be in their thirties. She's had him for life.

An aside here; I have a bird nearly my own age that I've had for fifteen years. I am disabled and considering giving her up for her sake but finding her a home is difficult because she hates other birds, and fostering her out is hard because people keep carnivores and she also hates men. Recently she started self-canabalising due to my heath condition reducing the amount of time I could spend with her. But I know how much work she is, and how hard it is to find someone who gives parrots the amount of attention they crave. I love her, and if I could give her to a good home I would consider it for her sake. But for mine? Her sweet fluffy face floofing out in scratch anticipation, her little chicken chuckles and honks and sneezes, her little beak taps on my arm before she clambours up it - these fill my days and I would be bereft without her. I suffer, when I travel, because I keep my heart in that bird.

So the insinuation in Jan Nash's season 5 of Rizzoli and Isles that Maura has sufficient human contact and no longer needs her lifetime companion is just rude, on behalf of both Maura and fans of the show.

The assumption that Bass, a house tortoise, with one/two caretakers (the sitter and Angela would also be familiar to him) would adjust to being in a zoo - okay, fine, Maura's working hours are terrible and she's never home, and she's not the most affectionate person with anyone but Jane and sometimes Jo, but to insinuate that simply because he's not a mammal that he has no feelings or routine - that shoving a tortoise into a muddy puddle and not talking to him - is an appropriate way to treat an animal that has been a family member for three decades - is disingenuous.

As for Maura allowing it to happen? She's settled in Boston, she has a permanent house guest that is familiar with him, and she's not the kind of cruel person to abandon something she loves on a whim. The only reason she'd have given him up - and this should have been mentioned in canon - was that he was having behavioural issues, from hormonal to boredom, that he was too large for Maura to safely handle - he's a hecking chonk even at the start - or that something about her home was found to be damaging to tortoise habitation (backed by several sources and cited in professional scientific articles).

Maura loves fiercely and often. She feels abandoned - by her birth and adoptive parents, and Bass was there to see her through, on the nights Jane wasn't there.

Considering Bass was only seen in three episodes of the show (Pilot, When the Gun Goes Bang Bang Bang, Killer in High Heels), the production cost would have been nil if they'd never had him onscreen again. Jo was also only in a handful of episodes, and dog actors are expensive, but dogs don't live as long, so they could have written her out any way other than 'we found her owners after Jane spent five long years bachelor bonding with her dog', but Jane's the kind to give up on people and things, so it's not as hurtful.

Maura has internalised her octracisation by society and harboured it in a tortoise. People don't understand tortoises. She too is misunderstood, so she vibes with Bass on a surface level, but after so many years, he deserved better than 'the zoo'.

Anyway that's my mini Bass thesis I'm tired.

And I added some pictures because he's actually very cute.

There's a thing about people who aren't neurotypical; we bond with things the average person considers ugly, emotionless or cumbersome, because we're often considered those things. Maura sees herself, the outcast Queen of the Dead, in Bass. And being abandoned herself, she would never abandon him.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #bass isles #maura isles #neurodivergent

124 notes · View notes

wizzdot · 11 months ago

Text

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch4

Description: chapter 4 - I’m not entirely sure if this is any good. I need to go through and edit it but I’ll do that when I’m closer to knowing what’s actually gonna happen 🤣 we will wait and see! I’ve posted this on ao3 as well - same username and title. I love Wes Anderson, hence the Isle of Dogs theme. Feel that it fits the theme of this fic too. Anyhoo..

I allow Gaz to lead me to a well lit room. It looks like some sort of living area. Comfortable sofas and carpeted floors. This was totally foreign to me after my time spent in the facility. I felt so out of place. I flit my gaze to Gaz who must notice my discomfort or awkwardness, and he beckons at me to sit down on the sofa. I am still zipped up inside his warm jacket, which smells of a warm vanilla scent mixed with some variation of citrus fruit.. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it is comforting and calming. I try not to make it obvious that I am taking in his scent.

The others are already situated in their seats. I feel all of their eyes itching into my skin. I shrink back into myself again. The pack Alpha, their Captain, clears his gruff throat before speaking. "We have received information from Laswell. She has found your file and is going to send it over as soon as it is secured in the system.. she has told us you are not a direct threat to us. Is this correct, Laika? Can we trust you?"

I feel like scoffing at him. Me? Can they trust me? It's almost laughable that a pack of four huge Alpha's think that I, a drugged, undesignated girl, could threaten them. Not to mention that I am not in the best of shape due to lack of nutrition and poor sleeping habits. "Well..?" he prompts. I met his gaze for the first time since they'd found me. "I pose no threat to you or your pack members, Captain" - I decide to address him officially as pack Alpha. He stands a little straighter than he was before, obviously happy with my answer. I feel a sense of relief wash over me before dropping my gaze back to the floor.

A growl echoes through the silence, the others all looking between each other to find the source of the sound. Their eyes land on me. I can feel my face redden under their scrutiny - my stomach is the source of the growl. "S-sorry" I stutter anxiously. Gaz steps forward slowly and smiles down at me. "C'mon, let's go and get some food. I could eat too." He nods towards the left and I follow the motion with my eyes and see an open door to what looks like a kitchen. I stand up nervously and follow Gaz, taking the widest possible route around the masked man and Soap, still not trusting them.

I step into the kitchen area and Gaz opens the fridge and inspects the contents. "What d'ya like?" he asks. I shrug. "Not really eaten much since- since I've been their asset.. I-I used to like soup though.." - "Soup? Let me check the cupboards. Think we've got tomato.." He moves around the kitchen smoothly, opening and closing cupboards when he doesn't find what he is looking for. I stand in the corner quietly, trying to avoid getting in the way. "C'mere" he beckons me over - "tomato or chicken?" he nods to a stack of four tins -two of each flavour- stacked neatly in the overhead cupboard. "J-just whatever is spare will be nice. Th-thanks" I whisper. "C'mon, love, try to stop being so shy with me.. you can trust me, even if you aren't sure about my packmates yet, yeah? I promise you they're good men underneath their tough exteriors.." he tries to convince me. "S-sorry.. I'll try harder" I murmur. I decide to try and be bold - I step closer to him and look over his shoulder into the cupboard to inspect the tins of soup. "Tomato would be nice.." I utter quietly. Gaz's smile is instant. It lights up the entire room, my eyes drawn to it. Wow - he had beautiful teeth. Sharp canines, gleaming white.. It reminded me that my teeth had been neglected - only able to brush them a couple of times a week when they allowed me to shower. I suddenly find myself feeling self-conscious. I haven't even properly looked in a mirror for at least a year..

I step back again, feeling a little anxious after my inner thoughts had caught up with me. Damn him and his big, perfect smile. And his deep, kind eyes. "How buttery do you want your bread?" The question snaps me out of it. "Butter?.. uhm.. same as you?" I question my own answer. "I've not had butter for ages. Just stale or mouldy bread.." I admit. He sighs sadly, but immediately tries to cheer me up. "You should see how Soap takes his bread. I swear he would use an entire block of butter per slice if he could. It's gross" he says jokingly. I release the smallest giggle at that. He is smiling so brightly now that he knows that he successfully made me laugh. My defences drop for a split second thanks to the growing comfort I am feeling in Gaz's presence, and my mouth blurts out before I can catch it "they scare me..”

Gaz snaps his gaze back down to mine - "What? Who? Soap..? He is harmless" - "and the masked one" I add blushing, anxiously. "That's Ghost - the masked one. He can take a while to warm up to strangers.. he won't hurt you though. Promise" he reassures me. My eyes follow his hand closely as he gently places it on my shoulder, attempting to comfort me, I assume. I try not to tense up or flinch at the soft touch. I just stare at his hand until he slowly withdraws it. I jump slightly when the microwave dings. Gaz pours the soup into a bowl and hands it to me with a plate full of buttered bread. I stand there confused, just staring at the food that I am holding.

"C'mon, hope you don't mind eating on the sofa. We usually just eat off our laps.." he shrugs. "It smells nice.." I compliment, following him as he holds the kitchen door open for me seeing as I had my hands full. I, once again, take the widest route around Soap and Ghost.. I sit down at the very end of the sofa and wait for Gaz to sit in the place next to me, subconsciously using him as a barrier to the outside room.

"What did Gaz make you for tea, lass?" the rich Scottish voice chirped. I jump in my seat slightly. I quietly respond "Tomato soup" without looking at him, remaining hidden behind Gaz's body. Soap leans forward and looks right at me "Smells delicious. Any leftovers, Gaz?" he asks. "Make your own... tins are in the cupboard" - "Awkt, but you made her some.." - "I'm not microwaving soup for you, Soap, piss of mate" - "Fuck sake, ya prick, though we were supposed to be packmates.." The duo go back and forward like this in a light hearted tone for a couple of minutes. "I - I don't mind letting you have this.." I offer anxiously, shakily holding my plate out towards Gaz, feeling guilty that I'd taken their food.

Gaz gently guides the plate back into my lap. "Don't be silly, bug, you haven't even started it and you haven't eaten properly for ages. Get eating!" He instructs, I listen - ever obedient. I gently lift the spoon to my mouth and slurp the soup into my mouth. I swear it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I hum quietly to myself. Unbeknownst to me, Gaz and Soap are watching me with a fond smile on their faces. I eat about half of the bowl, and a slice of bread before feeling utterly stuffed. I slowly lift my gaze from the food and glance at Gaz. "I can't eat any more.." I whisper. "You sure? You've not eaten much.." - "I'm full.." I reassure him. Soap suddenly sits forward in his seat again, making me shrink back slightly again. "Ya done, Lass?" - "mmhmm" I murmer shyly - "Here, hand it over then!" he says keenly. Before I can even process his words, he has leant over Gaz and stolen the bowl and plate from me and was groaning in pleasure at the taste. I blush slightly, embarrassed, that he hasn't even replaced the spoon I had been using. "For fuck sake, Soap, you know she's jumpy. Tone it down a bit - yeah?" Gaz suggests to Soap. "Aye, sorry just starvin' - Sorry wee'yin" he gobbles around a mouthful of bread. I just stare at the scene in front of me, lost for words.

With warm food in my belly for the first time in forever, I start feeling sleepy. I slowly unzip Gaz's jacket, now that I'm warm again, and hand it back to him. "Thanks.." I whisper, placing it on his lap. Gaz tries not to show his disappointment that you are no longer wearing his jacket - his scent. "Are you wanting me to show you to the spare room? Think it's set up ready to use.." he offers. "If that's ok.. I - I don't want to be a hassle.." - "None of that, now.. C'mon, follow me."

I stand and follow obediently again. I enter the hallway after Gaz. The walls are wallpapered with a white floral pattern. It's light and airy. Gaz walks up a set of stairs to an upper level, I follow him closely. He stops on the upper landing and points to the left hallway. "It's the second door on the right. You'll have your own bathroom too." I nod and hesitate before walking independently down the hallway, feeling a little insecure, but deciding to be brave anyway. I get to the door and slowly twist the door handle. I glance back at Gaz who just nods and turns to go back down stairs to join the rest of his pack.

I step into the room and take stock of everything in it. The walls are covered in blue and white striped wallpaper. There is a window on the back wall of the room. I check out the bathroom which is to the right hand side of the room - it has a shower, sink and a toilet, with another smaller window behind it. I step back into the main room and look at the bed. I hesitate before slowly lowering myself down on it. It's soft. I should feel comfortable, but instead I feel exposed. Unsafe. I decide to look around the bathroom again, digging through the cupboards to see what I could use. I find a few toothbrushes, still in the packs, so I remove one and hurry to brush my teeth. It's funny how such a small bit of self care can make me feel cleaner. I decide to strip from my filthy clothes and step into the shower. I turn the water on, accidentally blasting myself with freezing water before it started to heat up. I don't even squeal, being all too accustomed to cold showers. I do, however, moan when the water starts to heat up. I check out all of the soaps and products on the rack in the shower. It all looks like male stuff but I don't care. I absolutely lather myself in it. I repeat it several times over. Lather. Rinse. Lather. Rinse. And so on...

I finally step from the shower when my skin starts to wrinkle. I haven't felt this clean since - well - probably ever! The wall of steam floods the bedroom when I leave the bathroom. I get myself dry and search the chest of drawers for something clean to sleep in. From the looks of the contents inside, it looks like standard military style clothing. I find some dark joggers and a khaki t-shirt. I quickly dress, finding myself having to seriously tighten the drawstring around my waist of the trousers and roll the sleeves up of the long sleeved t-shirt. I climb into bed and pull the covers tightly around me. I toss and turn before finally dozing off.

*Gaz's POV*

I show her the directions to the room she is to stay in, deciding to stay back and let her check it out for herself. Soap had stayed in that room a few nights ago when he pissed everyone off so badly, Ghost decided to punish him by throwing him out of the pack bed for the night. I just hope he had left it clean enough for her. I walk downstairs to the rest of my pack. I sit back down in my space next to Soap, who immediately chucks his legs over me, to rest them on my lap. I massage his legs for him, making him purr. I smile softly at my pack mate.

Price speaks up then. "Kyle - what's going on with the girl then..?" - "She's scared.. terrified. Fuck knows what they've done to her but none of it has been good. I think she is warming up to me though" I reply. He nods in agreement. "Kate sent over her file. It looks like she's been tortured and drugged to comply. Her designation is unknown - but she has been the asset behind all four of the most recent Makarov hits. And several before these too, before we were called up, so she certainly isn't as harmless as she makes out." I find myself nodding too, trying to piece together what all of this means. "Who is she, then?" Soap asks. "Her government name is Y/N Y/L/N - they called her Laika - apparently she was always co-operative, or obedient, I think is the word they used. I guess she was thrashed into submission. They say she is of a gentle, anxious, nature but the drugs helped 'level' her - whatever that means" Price explains.

"Turned her into a puppet, that means. A puppet to do all of their dirty work" I spit back, disgusted and angry. "So the drugs, are they still in her system? Is that why she isn't giving off any scent or signs of her designation?" I ask. "That's something we are going to have to ask her, Kyle. The file mentions that she gets 'topped up' every couple of months when she starts showing resistance" - "Poor girl was trying to fight it" I interrupt Price.

"Don't start getting attached, Garrick." Simon grumbles at me. "Piss off" I snap back.

"I'm tired, let's go to bed, yeah, talk about it in the morning?" I suggest. "Yep, Kyle's right, bed - all of you" Price orders. We all stand and make our way to our room. I glance toward the door of Laika - Y/N's - room and all seems quiet. Hopefully she is sleeping, I think inside my head.

*Back to Laika (Y/N's) POV*

I wake, startled - seeing visions of pools of blood I had been the cause of. Seeing lifeless eyes of those I had killed. I leap out of bed and start feeling my arm for my handkerchief. Shit shit shit. I'd left it somewhere. I slide down the wall panicking, trying to remember where the hell I had put it. All this time at the facility and I'd managed not to lose it. It comes to me all of a sudden. Gaz's jacket. My handkerchief is in the pocket of his jacket. I sneak out of the room and try to quietly tip toe downstairs. The stairs are a bit creaky but being quiet is my speciality. I finally find my way to the room we had been sitting in when I had returned the jacket to Gaz. It wasn't there. My stomach sinks. A single tear falls from my eye. I slump on to the couch and try not to weep. I can't go rooting about looking for it. I will just have to calm myself down and go back to my room. I try to gather myself.

Five, or so, minutes later, I stand and start to make my way back up the stairs. I avoid all of the creaky parts of each stair and successfully make it to the upper landing. I turn toward my room and gently close the door. I fail to notice the dark, masked Alpha, watching my every move. He slinks back into his pack's room, not waking them.

I try to settle back in the bed, failing miserably. I find myself crawling under the bed with a pillow and blanket, feeling safer in an enclosed space. I finally settle into a restless sleep.

#john soap mctavish x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #omega reader #abo dynamics #poly 141 #pack dynamics #slow burn #eventual smut #task force x reader #reader insert

107 notes · View notes

starlightshadowsworld · 1 year ago

Text

Atsushi: The Headmaster thinks I like to fight, but that's just not true. Sometimes I lose my temper, when he yells at me, beats me.

But I never enjoyed it. I'm not a violent beast... I don't know why I bite.

#Source: isle of dogs #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bungou stray dogs #Bsd #child abuse

24 notes · View notes

daydream-believin · 11 months ago

Text

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

[Next Chapter]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter.. liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you. The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.

#michael afton x reader #mike shmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf #michael afton #michael afton x male reader #i mean its gender neutral but just so my fellow boys know it's safe here. there will be no 'sweet girl' ever. god.#fnaf fanfic #five nights at freddy's #my writing #i dont even remember how to tag these things anymore lol

69 notes · View notes

gortashs-skidmark · 1 year ago

Text

GORTASH HEADCANONS and CANON Facts

MATURE CONTENT WARNING, 18+ MDNI, SMUT FOREWARNING - (Grammar mistakes, not proof read) CONTENT WARNING: enslavement mentions, death mentioned, religious themes, war, assassinations, spoiler warning for act 3, anarchy, plotting, yadda yadda evil,

Canon first, to make precision based Headcanons second.

ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅ᏵꝊ

Info Source: Forgotten Realms Wiki, Forgotten Realms Wiki, World Anvil, World Anvil, Fast Change, r/DnD, Forgotten Realms Wiki, World Anvil, dungeonsanddragonsfans

Utilizes 4e and 5e Manuals.

CANON

Wyrm’s Rock Geography and History

𝔊 An "Island-fortress located in the city of Baldur's Gate, that served as one of the headquarters of the Flaming Fist military. It was located on an isle in the middle of the River Chionthar, at the center of Wyrm's Crossing."

𝔊 Smooth, warn granite built Wyrm's Rock, with 1ft thick and constantly wet from the river.

𝔊 The interiors of Wyrm's Rock includes offices and chambers for toll-gatherers and guards, keep's armory stocked to the nines, the top floor serving living-quarters for serving officers and mercenaries.

𝔊 It can hold up to 100 Flaming Fist, but usually only houses 25-50

𝔊 Below Wyrm's Rock is the damp cold dungeons, but it's not used regularly, only for emergencies. It's mostly used as storage, holding canoes and such.

𝔊 The current uses for Wyrm's Rock, are as a safety precaution from the Chionthar's rapids and a toll booth, 5 copper pieces, for travelers along the Trade Way.

𝔊 It's a well guarded fortress, with projectiles, barrels of oil, armor, and hand held weapons.

𝔊 Ansur, a Bronze Lawful Good dragon, "The Heart of the Gate" slumbers beneath Wyrm's Rock.

Lower/Outer City

𝔊 It is a dangerous "near lawless" piece of Baldur's Gate. Very impoverished with three enterances; Basilisks Gate, Black Dragon, and Cliffgate

𝔊 The buildings scattered along the city are unorganized and unstable.

𝔊 "Due to the high standards of cleanliness that the Baldurian patriar, the city maintained a strict law that prohibited anything larger than a peacock from entering the city's gates. All the stables, livestock pens and abattoirs were consigned to a location within the Outer City. As such, flocks of sheep, goats, cattle and all manner of fowl were kept in enclosures or left to roam around unchecked. While nary a single dog could be found in the lower city, packs of strays were not at all uncommon in the Outer City."

𝔊 It's noisy and dirty and overwhelming for new comers through the gate.

𝔊 The Flaming Fist and The Watch often turn a blind-eye to petty crime like pickpocketing.

𝔊 The Flaming Fist are often bought out, and their behavior sways with the political alignment and leadership world views.

𝔊 There's so much to write about! check this page for all of the vast shops around the Lower City, and the lore behind them. I don't think many of them are relevant so I won't indulge it.

Humans in DND lore

𝔊 Humans are very diverse, and the youngest living out of the races. They often have a tad of tainted. blood, whether orc or elf or another.

𝔊 They are the most adaptable opportunists and ambitious race. Their culture, gods, customs, morals, all range heavily. They typically stick to one city and stay for as long as possible.

𝔊 Unlike humans themselves, cities and kingdoms with traditions and origins that stick around for centuries. Human names are often regional reflections. If they're given an elven or other name with racial origins, it's usually pronounced wrong.

𝔊 Humans live in the present and make greater adventurers because of it. They're better read about current political change and social dynamics.

𝔊 Humans mingle with anyone, usually able to get on anyones good terms because of their conventional image. In human built societies, generally, they're inclusive. Not always the case. In other racial origin societies, it can be harder for humans to fit in.

𝔊 Because of their short life span, immortality is an escape that's only dreamt of. They seek to leave a mark on history themselves instead of longevity.

𝔊 Humans are categorized by appearance because of region and ancestory. They fall into 9 categories, which I won't be listing. You can find info here, but don't go crazy.

Baldur’s Political Systems and important Dark Urge History

𝔊 The Half Way to Everywhere, Baldur's Gate, largest metropolitan City-State in the Western Heartlands. Protected by The Flaming Fist (mercenary company) and The Watch Citadel (upper city). Showered in abundance of rain weather, and a complex and efficient aquaduct system. This city is described as The City of Blood with it's large waves of crime, primarily because of its acceptances towards anyone, including thieves.

𝔊 The city is apart of the Lords' Alliance of powers in the west, and ruled by the Council of Four (4 Grand Dukes) who attended the Lords' Alliance in representation of their City-State.

𝔊 There's a strange energy about Baldur's Gate. People, no matter the state of the world, often kept to their own business. They didn't have too many customs, but a few festivals. One notable past-time were cobble parties, folks gathering boxes and crate for seating and sharing stories, lit with special "red rose" torches from firework shops.

𝔊 Religion in Baldur's Gate was vast in variety. Depending on the hotspots of culture, you could find god and goddess worshippers of any kind. Twin Song's, a temple district in Baldur's Gate in the Outer City, were very religiously tolerant, even of Bhaal and Bane worshippers.

𝔊 To favor the land, Umberlee, Tymora, and Gond were prominent gods that were worshipped.

𝔊 After a coup by a previous Grand Duke Valarkan, the city's government changed to a Baldurian Parliament of elected Dukes. After 1479, it changes back to the Council of Four, accompanied by the Parliament of Peers.

𝔊 The Parliament of Peers were an Advisory Council. 50 representatives spread over the entirety of Baldur's Gate, as a legislative body. They would submit recommendations to the Council of Four.

𝔊 The Council of Four were served by 5 deputies, City Officials. Harbor Master, High Constable and Master of Walls, Master of Drains and Underways, Master of Cobbles, and Purse Master.

𝔊 They would hold sessions in the High Hall, open to observers. most days. They held assembly days every afternoon, with non-mandatory attendance, often 20-30 council members in the hall at a time. Some days were mandatory, depending on the topic.

𝔊 A large number of parliament members were bought-out and under influence by The Guild leader Nine-Fingers Keene.

𝔊 It was made up of retired adventurers and guild leaders. 12 representatives of the Lower City, and the remaining were Nobles representing the Upper City, known as Patriars.

𝔊 A list of Patriars. Including Oberon, who you can find dead on Wyrm's Rock. A Noble family who owned many of the dry-docks in Grey Harbour.

𝔊 "In the Year of Three Ships Sailing, 1492 DR, Baldur's Gate became plagued by a series of murders and disappearances. The members of the Flaming Fist showed little interest in addressing the incidents, but after the patriar families of Caldwell, Oberon, and Linnacher became affected, the pressure from Flaming Fist demanding investigations from their superiors started to increase" - Forgotten Realms Wiki

𝔊 In 1479, Baldur's Gate had mended their relationship with Elturguard. Though, expansions the Gate had been making, re-threatened Elturian's and were on the verge of civil war.

𝔊 In 1482, Grand Duke Abdel Adrian, a good-conquered Bhaaspawn, was attacked by a man named Viekang, the only other remaining Bhaalspawn. Though the duel ended in both men dying, one turning into The Slayer form. Both were Bhaalspawn, one was the victor though not knowing who was who. The Slayer form was returned to Bhaal after this event.

𝔊 Durge, with how their timeline works, has to be over 33 years old. Duke Abdel was 120 and had already separated themselves from Bhaal's influence. Do with that info you will. Back to your regularly scheduled Baldurian murder.

𝔊 His death was blamed on The Guild and adventurers were hired to investigate the murder. An increase in crime caused The Fist to crack down on the Lower City and shadier outer districts.

𝔊 The efforts of the Fist and the Watch, assumed by Grand Duke Ulder Ravenguard, didn't last and erupted in chaos. Strikes happened amongst city-workers and the Upper City was given a mid-afternoon curfew. The merchant class of the Lower City became unruly. Arson and crime sky-rocketed. Baldur's Mouth shut down, and the Fist's new leader instituted a series of illegal tribunals.

𝔊 Grand Duke Torlin Silvershield's stock-piled smoke power over parliament to stop the Guild's influence on the corrupt Baldurian Parliment. He revealed himself to be the "the Chosen of the re-ascended god of murder, Bhaal" before he was killed.

Gortash leans towards Steampunk, does technology exist? What are Constructs?

𝔊 There are different playable levels of tech you can play in a Campaign. I'm not sure where BG3 lies, but my guess is Steel Age, as it is possible to forge steel and infernal iron.

𝔊 Steel Age: fits most campaign settings (including Forgotten Realms, Greyhawk, Ebberon, etc.) and some experts know how to use adamantine and mithril.

𝔊 Within the canon lore that leads up in Dark Urge Origin, it should be the Steel Age. The Zhentarim, 1480's, create steel forged from Dragons in the Cult of the Dragons campaign, which has some capable lead up to Blood in Baldur's Gate (might be canon??) and then the 1492 BG3 game.

𝔊 Infernal Iron, weapons forged from this iron will smite souls and direct them into the River Styx. It can create soul-powered machines and vehicles. It creates Soul Coins, common currency in the Nine Hells. It is mined in the 8th (Cania) and 2nd (Dis) layers of Hell

𝔊 Constructs are creatures made up of inorganic materials. They are non-intelligent automatons, most are anyway.

𝔊 Living Constructs, however, combine elements of in-organic animation and living creatures. They possess free will and sentient thoughts, through complex and potent magic.

𝔊 Living Constructs can get better, and develop skills, they have vitality that doesn't depend on their size. Which means they are capable of being affected by spells and the living. They can wither mentally and physically be harmed in fights. They can be affected by necromancy.

𝔊 Living Constructs are capable of running, be affected with certain healing spell, can take certain potions, but do not require eating and drinking, be affected with mind-altering magic, most are immune to nausea, poison, sleep, fatigue, and paralysis.

What are Artificiers?

𝔊 They are inventors, engineer, and tinkerers of brilliance, they see magic as a complex system that's meant to be "de-coded" which makes them slower in spell progression.

𝔊 They use a number of items and systems to channel arcane magic, such as alchemy supplies for potent elixirs, calligrapher supplies to inscribe sigils, or tools to craft a temporary charm.

𝔊 They are particular in their crafts and hone it to their own character to produce the perfect product for the job.

𝔊 They often appear more steampunk than medieval like their compatriots. They are capable of using firearms and explosives

Who is The Tyrant God Bane?

𝔊 "Bane was the Faeruniangod of tyrannical oppression, terror, and hate, known across Faerûn as the face of pure evil through malevolent despotism. From his dread plane of Banehold, The Black Hand acted indirectly through worshipers and other agents to achieve his ultimate plan to achieve total domination of all Faerûn" - Forgotten Realm's Wiki

𝔊 He was the principal of ambition and control. He believes the strong have a right and a duty to rule over the weal.

𝔊 He favors individuals with drive, courage, and promoted slavery to powerful individuals.

𝔊 He worked closely with other if they interested him, unlike most gods. He worked with Myrukel, long when they were both mortal and beyond. He also worked with Loviatar (his servant at one point), Talona, and Mask.

𝔊 He was once lovers with Kiputytto, the demigoddess of Disease, and Loviatar's sister. Later slain by Talona.

𝔊 Bane has had servants such as his own son Iyachtu Xvim, during his first life. At other times of his god life, Abbathor, Maglubiyet (popular goblin god), Hrugget, and Tiamat.

𝔊 Bane's biggest and most hateful foe was Mystra. He hated Cyric too, who stole many of his followers, the Zhentarim or Black Network. He was hated by others but those are some relevant ones.

𝔊 Bane's Church was ruthless, though very stable. It was as disciplined as Shar's or Cyric's. Banite customs were often spartan-ish and followed a heirarchy. There are no Banite holidays and showed their gratitude through rituals. Including sacrifice and torture of sentient beings that were deemed "offensive"

𝔊 Priests of Bane prayed at midnight, for their spells. Disloyalty resulted in death.

𝔊 When Bane was mortal, he allied with mortal Bhaal and Myrukel. They targeted Jergal. They could slice through any obstacal, sometimes set up by Jergal. Jergal was tired of his title and gave it them, including his dagger given to Bane. The God of Death Jergal tricked one another to turn on each other. He divided his power in a game of Knucklebones, which Bane won and gained governance over the sphere of strife. Then Myurkel, then Bhaal who ate murder scraps. Ultimately Jergal had the Goddess of Luck decide.

How does the Church of Bane shape its worshippers? im just gonna quote one source bc it's straightforward man.

𝔊 Bane's church believes in subserviences and submission within a hierarchy, junior members bowing, kneeling, and even kissing boots if they were low enough in rank. Superior members were to be obeyed at all times. The church rules were of utmost importance, order and laws from any other land means nothing.

𝔊 "According to his priests, Bane was to be feared by his faithful and even more feared by the unfaithful. It was the duty of every member of the church of Bane to "spread (his) fear""

𝔊 "Banite priests took great pride in their ability to control their actions and avoid succumbing to emotional outbursts. Their outward demeanor was cold and thoughtful, they thought carefully before they spoke, often preferring sarcasm and "witty banter" rather than overt hostility." - Forgotten Realms Wiki

𝔊 "The overarching goal of Bane's clergy was the charge of seizing or manipulating their way into power in every nation, city-state or freehold in all of Faerûn, to bring them under his influence. Using emotionally manipulative tools such as fear, hatred or greed to sow conflict, war and chaos would allow the Black Hand to maintain control over lands too distressed to maintain stability. To this end, priests and followers were encouraged to commit acts such as torture, political infiltration or inciting mayhem with subtlety, cruelty and overall, fear."

𝔊 Rituals; "They were held either outdoors at night, or in a space of darkness, such as darkened chambers, caves or ruins with only dim lighting." [...] "Services included rhythmic chanting, the rolling beating of drums and the sacrifice of an intelligent creature's life. To prepare for this life to be given to Bane, the oblatory life was to be demeaned and tortured until they showed him due fear."

𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊

HEADCANONS (mixed nfsw)

𝔊 He's a mad scientist, lacks good aligned morality, he's far gone. It makes him an amazing artificier.

𝔊 Larian Studios, what is that? What is this laziness? (I was looking into Chiondathans bc I've never heard of the 9 regional categories)

𝔊 Hearing Gortash vomit would be more attractive than hearing his previous last name of "Flymm" in full. I just wanna put that in.

How old is Enver Gortash?

𝔊 I liked this deep-dive by @victorgrwrites and I won't waste time explaining and here

𝔊 So like 33. I think he's 33. Also here’s a bg3 timeline bc yall seem to struggle

anyway

𝔊 I like that durge potentially gets with Astarion. Bane favors animals like bats and black green eyed cats. and durge catches themselves a vampire that can turn into a bat (if ascended). That would 'bout piss Gortash off.

𝔊 Gortash really gets some points from Bane bc he got the Zhentarim's favor again through infernal iron weapons trading. They favor Bane over Cyric again. Gortash was #1 in Bane's eyes.

𝔊 I think he gets hard when he gets exceptional praise. Not like "good boy" like "you're everything the world ever needed, my merciful god" kinda praise. Like calling his brain is magnificent for coming up with that plan all by himself (if you're tav) gets him goin'

𝔊 He does not attend a lot of the parliament meetings, when he does it's for very specific problems in Baldur's Gate, anyone who caught on would probably "disappear"

𝔊 He's busy, either tinkering, meetings, or in worship. I think he leads Bane's church, but not publicly, through Banite priests because he can't be discovered about his religion as a political leader.

𝔊 He uses tones in his voice, you hear it all day, he only makes talk to flatter, mock, or threaten politely, but he knows how to use a very soft, very sweet voice that makes you give into anything he asks for.

𝔊 His broad shoulders and warm hands are never sincere. You felt like you've never been given a sincere hug from him, as comforting as they can be in the moment. He'd have to give up his way of life and cry on his knees in front of you before you could believe he was ever sincere about certain affections.

𝔊 If you could polymorph into an animal, he's either think it's disgusting or wanna fuck it.

𝔊 His Steel Watch, you just can't tell me not to be stunned, are half way between living and non-sentient constructs. They have a brain that operates, they can see what they're doing, and yet they have no control over their body. Gortash didn't need to give them brains to make automatons that do anything at his will, it's pure slavery and torture.

𝔊 If you’re childhood friends, 7 or 8 years old, you’d drag him in the late of night to those Cobble parties and sit among the adults in the dim red torch light listening to the adults talk. You’d drop him off at home, you did have a way of worrying for his safety with his parents. He was a stubborn devil as a child but you were too happy and care free to leave him be.

𝔊 He did not carry those cobbler genes, have you seen his fuggo ass shoes?? He can tinker like no one else but his sense of style is messy and new-money.

𝔊

Why is Gortash Evil?

𝔊 His parents fucking sold him for being "needy and troublesome" like MOST KIDS ARE. If I got sold to a Warlock, that turned out to be THE SON OF MEPHISTOPHELES. I'd be fucking evil too.

𝔊 Just as he was needy and troublesome when he lived with his parents, he reverts to a smaller husk of himself with a trusted lover. Needy, malevolent, confident in his strides, it’s his way or the highway, but he will listen to you quietly. You are an equal but he’s relentless as a person. Pester, pester, pester. Sometimes you feeling like you’re mothering him.

𝔊 He's probably pretty high up in the Church of Bane. People kiss his feet, he shows amazing restraint in emotion, politically is advantageous for Bane, he's a slaver like Bane teaches is okay to do, he trades arms and is super fucking popular for it.

𝔊 He showed great restraint with the Dark Urge, I think he loved being allies with them because he didn't have to stray far from Bane at all for Durge to adore him. I don't think he could've loved and he would've abandoned Durge in a heartbeat unlike vice-versa.

𝔊 I think Enver hums deep and beautifully from his years of chanting in Bane's name. He has a deep focused look on his face, and he deeply hums a melody he heard at a party last night, dancing and wooing patriars left and right on the ballroom floor.

𝔊 𝔊 𝔊

𝔊 Undoing his evil is near-damn impossible. He loves attention, he needs it. He needs praise his his god. He worked so hard for everything in life and you can’t take it away.

𝔊 If you can convince him to give up, fucking unlikely, before the Nether Brain fight, he’ll live. He might suffer Bane’s wrath and kill him and Jergal would not be super happy reviving him after your pleas. Karlach would hate you. So would Wyll

𝔊 Threatening his enteral consequence of death, tending to flowers forever in Avernus after he dies, or, he fixes Karlach so she doesn’t need to go back to Avernus.

𝔊 She wouldn’t trust him and she’d say she’d rather be dead before trusting him again. And you have to convince both of them to be better. Well. Just Gortash. Karlach can do whatever her sweet heart desires.

𝔊 He is irredeemable, he's lead the Church of Bane since he was 17, he's pretty much licked Bane's asshole at this point. It's hard to get to know him. He's probably a grumpy, sad, regretful little guy under his immaculate persona.

𝔊 You can start reconnecting him to Baldur's Gate, with Cobble Parties, you both go and hold hands and listen to stories. He doesn't want to listen to the groveling, sober at least. He is reserved and needs to make friends, but in his own times.

𝔊 His parents would never take him back and accept him, they made him and didn't help him, or work with him as a child an they handed him over to a Cambion. They still recall so much hatred when he lived there.

𝔊 He probably loved explosives as a child, and got in trouble for setting them off in the house. He would tinker, wander off, and read books and play by himself, smart reserved kind of kid. Which worried and frustrated his parents, he wasn't cobbler material.

𝔊 Children are difficult but you can't forgive their negligence. They threw him out at the first chance probably. You hold a grudge against his parents. You're vocal about it with comments, when they see him after the whole ordeal. He's supposed to make progress and they're gonna make him writhe in every mental way like he did before.

𝔊 You make sure to create good memories, even in the Lower City, those cobble parties, little firework shows off the grey harbors docks by the foundries ashes, he never got to celebrate Baldur's Gate's customs like Highharvestide even tho it's not as popular, Returning Day to where you talk about the Murder in the Wide. you want to include him in everything,

𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊𝔊

Hey guys! if you got this far, yay! but also i'm not done writing it. come back to my page and find it on my master list when it's finished to enjoy more!

I’ll continue writing as I think of more headcanons.

78 notes · View notes