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undermounts · 5 months

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bite the hand - chapter 6: blood kin

pairing: Astarion/The Dark Urge

summary: Astarion helps her hide the body. Romance ensues.

chapter preview:

She vows—spits, “I’ll rip out his throat.”

She will. She doesn’t care if a dead thing as powerful as Cazador can’t die twice; she would rip out his throat again and again and again if given the chance, and she’ll drop it at Astarion’s feet, like a dog with a bird in its teeth.

The look he gives her is searing. “I know you will try.”

Read it on Ao3

Alfira’s sudden departure hardly causes a stir, Irileth is ashamed to admit.

It is a miraculous stroke of luck that her companions are simply too preoccupied with what they have begun to refer to as ‘the tadpole problem,’ for no one seems to care much when they wake in the morning to find the bard’s resting place empty and her belongings gone. In fact, nary a brow is raised when Astarion shares their hasty cover story.

Irileth, for her part, merely nods along, feeling her companions’ gazes slide to her for confirmation. As far as she can tell, it seems to be enough, though she tries not to think about what it all means, how the others have come to trust her.

“Still, it’s a bit rude to just leave without saying goodbye,” Gale sighs once the matter settles, half-distracted as he folds his nightshirt and tucks it into his pack. “We had such a delightful conversation last night, too. Ah, what a shame.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. All of your chit chat,” Shadowheart quips around a mouth full of pins for her hair. “She probably decided a fascinating tale for her songs wasn’t worth all the sleepless nights, and I don’t blame her. Who can sleep when you’re always up late jabbering with ‘Me, myself, and I?’ ”

With near-brutal efficiency, the morning conversation turns from Alfira to their plans for the next few days: consult Dammon in the Grove about Karlach’s heart and continue preparations to infiltrate the goblin camp and rescue Halsin. If the number of goblins they’ve encountered in the wilderness thus far is any indication of the population they can expect at the camp, then this final task will be no small feat.

Fortunately, the tadpole might just be their way in.

In between convincing the goblins occupying Moonhaven to stand down and encouraging a pair of cultist siblings to find their death in an owlbear lair, their illithid abilities have proven to be particularly useful in the party’s dealings with the devotees of the Absolute. And if Irileth was able to command the gnoll pack leader to feast upon her own hunters without so much as breaking a sweat, well—surely she can persuade a few guards to let them pass through the front gates.

What dark turns her mind takes, luxuriating in all of the terrors she could inflict with these newfound powers. Barely a handful of hours have passed since Alfira’s body turned cold and Irileth’s blood is already burning, boiling, begging for more death, more violence.

(Her weak heart protests—No! )

But first things first: to Dammon.

The following hours are filled with dread and anxiety for Irileth.

Back and forth they traveled all day, between the Grove and Moonhaven, obtaining infernal metal for Dammon��s repairs, while simultaneously running other errands for the denizens of the Hollow. It was a tiring endeavor, especially while operating on such a deficit of sleep, but it had been worth it, so worth it for Irileth, to see the way Karlach lit up with equal parts joy and relief at the sound of her heart, beating along as it should. (Hello, hello, hello.)

Irileth’s attention had repeatedly strayed to Astarion, wondering—waiting for him to leap up and proclaim in a dramatic fashion, true to form, that it was all a lie, Alfira was dead, and she, Irileth, was to blame. She had decided to trust him that morning, had decided to believe that he really meant it when he claimed to be on her side, but now as the day drags on, she can’t help but fall prey to the doubts that creep into her feeble mind.

Her stomach writhes with guilt and unease. What would she even do if Astarion turned on her? Admit to it? Explain it was all his idea to cover it up—she had wanted to be honest! (Well, she had considered it.) Or would she accuse him instead?

…Could she accuse him? If she framed it right, she might just be able to, especially given his track record for preying upon members of their camp in the middle of the night (just her, only her).

But—no. She couldn’t.

For whatever reason, the thought of turning on Astarion seems unbearable, unconscionable. She’s not that kind of person.

…Right?

She won’t be.

Astarion, for his part, does not give her any reason to doubt him. He has been remarkably silent throughout much of the day, lingering at the back of the group as they traveled and quietly accepting whatever requests she made of him: picking locks, scouting ahead, and even entertaining Mattis and Silfy with his sleight of hand while they waited for Dammon to finish working the metal.

Still, Irileth worries. She doesn’t know what any of this means for them, or what to do about it.

Supper that night consists of bland acorn soup and a handful of grapes—yum . Camped once more by the river, Irileth and her companions linger around the fire as they wind down after dinner, chatting idly about Karlach’s plans after her second repair.

“You all better watch out,” Karlach announces, making eye contact with each member of their camp in rapid succession, “because I’m. Going. To hug. Everyone. ”

“I don’t hug,” comes Lae’zel’s flat reply, though it lacks her usual steel.

“Oh no.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes as she dramatically fans herself. Over the course of their meal, the cleric had scooted closer and closer to Karlach, leaning in as far she dared to without singing off her own eyebrows. (Interesting.) “What a terrible fate awaits.”

Through it all, Irileth watches Astarion as she polishes her newly purchased daggers—she couldn’t bear to look at her old ones, which now sit where they belong, at the bottom of the Chionthar.

Astarion doesn’t eat with the rest of them, though he still lingers in their circle occasionally slipping small quips into the conversation. He is sprawled out by the fire with one foot resting on his knee, a book propped against the other, and he turns each page slowly, deliberately, like a man who knows he has an audience.

Irileth is reminded of the second night they spent together as a party, when she and Astarion looked upon the dying nautiloid from the cliffs. So much has changed since then, but also, hardly anything at all.

The night ticks on; Gale goes to bed first, then Wyll, Lae’zel, and finally, Shadowheart. Karlach lingers, stretched out on her back and stargazing as she hums to herself, foot tapping the earth. Eventually, it becomes clear that she’s not leaving any time soon, and only then does Astarion close his book with a snap before approaching Irileth on silent feet.

“Come,” he tells her softly, his voice nearly a purr, and holds out his hand. “Walk with me.”

She can feel Karlach’s attention on them, though Irileth keeps her gaze locked with Astarion’s, studying his face. His voice is sultry, dripping with a seductive offer, and his expression is not so dissimilar to the one he gave her yesterday morning, when they talked about her blood. (‘I’ll take anything and everything I can get.’)

Is that what he wants? Blood, or something more? She supposes she’ll find out.

Irileth looks at his hand, pale in the moonlight, and takes it.

Astarion leads her deeper into the surrounding wood. Even in the inky darkness of the woods, he moves with certainty, as if he has traveled this way before. It occurs to Irileth then that he must know these woods better than any of them, given how much time he spends stalking them nightly for prey while the rest of them fill up on real meals, or at the very least, rations.

Before long, they come across a small clearing, punctuated by a fallen tree. Moonlight breaks though the canopy in silver shafts, illuminating the small patches of violets and ivy that creep across the ground.

“Ah, here we are,” Astarion declares as he sits on the fallen tree, gracefully arranging his legs before him as he leans back and smiles. “Alone at last.”

Irileth chews on the inside of her cheek as she studies him, then hesitantly sits when he pats the space beside him. She can’t tell if he looks a little hungry, or if he’s up to something else. “Been waiting long?”

“All day, in fact,” Astarion answers lightly, reaching between them to catch a lock of her pearly hair between his fingers. Irileth can’t help but be reminded of how just hours ago, he’d untangled those same strands, undoing the abuse she’d inflicted upon her hair. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

Oh. That’s not what she was expecting.

His smile dips slightly. “See how you’re doing after… well, you know.”

Oh.

Irileth does know. As if she could forget.

“You look troubled, darling,” he observes, peering closer at her, and if Irileth wasn’t already so full of doubt, she might have thought he genuinely appeared concerned, despite his taunting tone. “Not having second thoughts about our plan, are you? Things are going well; don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

Yes. She has—multiple times, in fact. “No. I mean, yes, I have thought about it. But… no.”

For now, at least.

Irileth swallows around the lump in her throat, the tangled knot of anxiety that has been pressing down on her chest. She supposes now is as good a time as any for this conversation.

“Actually,” she says slowly, gauging his reaction. “I rather thought you might.”

“And betray you?” He arches a brow as he tips her chin up with a single finger. “I would never.”

“You keep saying that,” Irileth mutters, “although I’m still not sure why.”

She can practically feel the air between them grow thick with tension as Astarion’s guileful expression falls. (Gods, she really should have a better sense of self preservation by now, shouldn’t she.)

“Oh, not this again.” Astarion leans back and drops his hand away from her chin, letting it sit, as if burned, in his lap. “Is it so hard to believe that perhaps I just wanted to help you in the way that you have helped me? To return the kindness you showed the other night?”

Well, yes, Irileth thinks, though she doesn’t dare say that.

“You’re telling me that you helped me—” Hide a body, her sickened mind supplies. (Nope, try again.) “You helped with Alfira because you wanted to pay me back for letting you bite me?”

“You did more than just let me bite you,” he mutters, still staring at her disbelievingly. He looks at her for a long while, then sighs, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression is surprisingly earnest. “Do you think any of the others would have allowed me to stay, much less live when they found out I’m a spawn, had you not spoken on my behalf?”

“Yes,” Irileth replies quickly, thinking of Wyll. But then she remembers Lae’zel, how she had been so quick to draw her blade, and hesitates. “Maybe.”

“‘Maybe,’” Astarion says lowly, “is not so reassuring.”

Irileth shakes her head. “I didn’t help you because I wanted you to owe me a favor, Astarion. And I find it difficult to believe that you would risk so much just to settle a debt. You’re careful and you’re smart and you don’t do anything without a reason. I know you.”

Astarion’s gaze flattens and he leans back, his face becoming cold in a way she has never seen it before. “Do you now?”

Irileth’s mouth falls open. “I…”

No, she doesn’t. Not really. In fact, she had assumed this outing of theirs would result in her giving him her blood—which she would have done, without a question. But here they are, talking. Of all things.

“No,” she admits, face burning with shame. How presumptuous of her, to think she had him figured out. They met barely a week ago, and while true that their close proximity forced them to get familiar with each other, and fast, she doesn’t know enough about him to speak with such authority.

Irileth takes a deep breath, fighting to organize her thoughts. Her instincts still tell her that there is more to his kindness than meets the eye, but for whatever reason, Astarion is not inclined to admit it. And perhaps she really should just let it lay; so long as he intends to keep her around, she doesn’t need to know his motives. But there’s more to it than that.

She wants to understand him. Not just his intentions, but him. And pushing or making assumptions clearly isn’t working, so she must try something else. A better approach.

“I don’t know you. But I would like to,” she says carefully, her palms splayed on her knees like a peace offering. “I’m trying to understand you. And if there’s something you want, I would rather you ask me, than make me guess. Maybe I can give it to you.”

Astarion regards her silently, gaze flicking between her hands and her face, before he exhales sharply. Then, as if reluctant to admit it, he says, “You just may know me better than most.”

Irileth stifles her feeling of victory. Why does that excite her so, the idea that Astarion considers her to be someone—not close, perhaps trusted, but at least within that orbit.

“If you must know, I feel a sort of…kinship between you and I,” he begins, sliding ever closer to her on the fallen tree. Irileth catches that look in his eye, the one he gets when he focuses on something he plans to execute, and she just barely manages to think, oh no, I’ve made it worse, before he barrels on, voice made of satin. “You must feel it too, how well we work together—so perfectly in sync. Together, we could be quite formidable.”

“We’ve got a few knives and bows between the two of us. That’s not much.” Irileth scoffs, though her dismissal is half-hearted.

She cannot deny a part of her is intrigued by this sudden turn in the conversation, even if it may not be as productive as she’d hoped. Or maybe she just likes the way he looks at her. (Hungry—always, but also a bit wanting.)

“Oh, I think our foes would disagree,” he remarks dryly. “My point is,” Astarion adds before she can nudge him on. “I have a feeling that our troubles are far from being over. The mind flayers aren’t the only ones who are out there.” He grimaces, his voice full of thinly veiled meaning. “And they might not be the only ones hunting us.”

Who else? Irileth wants to ask, but she already knows.

Cazador.

Oh, and that makes her chest ache. She grips the tops of her knees, resisting the impulse to touch him, comfort him. She knows he doesn’t want that and she still doesn’t know how to give it.

“He can’t find you out here.”

“He might.” Astarion’s words are soft, barely more than a whisper, but he bares his teeth in a snarl.

And although Irileth knows he isn’t angry with her, her heart starts to race with fear, excitement, and a sudden rage that mirrors his own. She vows—spits, “I’ll rip out his throat.”

The look he gives her is searing. “I know you will try.”

Her neck heats. Is that meant to be a dare?

No. Where his former master is concerned, Astarion does not joke. His expression is severe as he scans the forest around them, eyes darting to the shadows between the trees, as if searching for something—for him?

“I’ve never known Cazador to leave the Gate, but that doesn’t mean he won’t send someone in his stead.” His lip curls disdainfully. “Send the wolves, send his lackeys— I’ll kill them all, because I’m not going back.”

“And when they come.” He turns to Irileth, taking one of her hands between his own. He grins, and his expression turns menacing—daring. “There’s no one I’d rather have by my side. My closest ally. My most terrifying hero.”

Irileth’s heart burns, mirroring the passion he lays out before her. She should be repulsed by the idea of soaking her blades with blood so soon after the horror of this morning, but this is different. This would be deserved. If Cazador or any of his minions so much as lay a finger on Astarion she will cut it off and make a necklace out of their bones.

His thumb strokes the back of her knuckles and Irileth looks down at their joined hands; his, the pale face of the moon and hers, the blush of dusk. Is Astarion always so cold? She finds herself wondering.

“Now, is that sufficient enough? Have I adequately waxed poetic the reasons why I want to help you?”

Irileth looks up at him, withdrawing her hand. “I’ll protect you.”

His brows lift for an instant, then quickly smooth into a pleased expression. “And I, you. I’ve never been one to receive more than I give.”

Irileth lets loose a dry laugh, feeling some of the tension dissolve in the air. It’s strange, what sort of things her brain has forgotten and what it has retained. Apparently, she remembers enough to understand that. “Terrible.”

They sit there for a while, quiet in the clearing, listening to the sound of oak leaves rustling overhead and insects humming in the distance. Irileth ruminates on all that he has told her; all throughout the day, she’d been torn in two by guilt. Even now, she feels ill when she thinks of Alfira, and she is filled with misgivings over being dishonest with the people who have come to trust her, follow her.

However, it certainly changes things, knowing how Astarion wants her (she refuses to be so egotistical as to believe he needs her) by his side; wants her protection, her help. She’s reasonably sure that even without her, he could survive; he’s clever, cunning, and certainly ruthless enough. But… What are his odds?

“Well then,” Astarion breaks their silence and brushes at his knees, dusting off chips of wood and bits of moss. “Shall we return?”

“I thought…” Irileth remains seated and tugs her lip between her teeth, feeling her cheeks flush. She gestures vaguely at herself. “Do you need…?”

Astarion grins, never one to remain serious for long, and arches a brow. “Ooo, just what are you suggesting, my sweet?”

Irileth’s face burns hot as flames now. Why is he like this.

“Blood,” she explains flatly, and she is proud of herself for keeping her voice even. “I thought you might want it. I thought that’s why…” She waves her hand at the clearing.

Astarion stills, peering at her cautiously. “That actually wasn’t my intention in bringing you here. You must think poorly of me if you think that’s how I would persuade you. Although, ah, are you offering?”

She had already assumed that this is where the night would lead, but it is surprisingly… nice to have the choice. Irileth considers it for a moment, then nods. Why not? If he needs this and she can provide it, he should have it. She wants him to have it.

Irileth tugs at the collar of her shirt as she sweeps her hair to the side, exposing her neck to him. “I suppose I am.”

Astarion lingers for a moment, as if waiting for her to revoke or second-guess her offer, and when Irileth doesn’t, she can see some of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“A paragon of generosity, you are.” Astarion smirks as he resettles himself beside her once more. All loose-limbed and graceful, Astarion curls into her side, taking her hair into his hand. “Were I a bard, I would sing your praises.”

Something in Irileth twists in discomfort at that.

“I don’t want to be praised for giving you something you need.” She swallows, mouth growing dry at the strange way he beholds her, as if he is attempting to see straight through her. “And you don’t have to ply me with compliments either. You can have this, whenever you want.”

Astarion huffs, shaking his head, and drags the back of his knuckles along her jaw as he reaches for the side of her neck. “You shouldn’t make offers like that. Someone might take advantage of your generosity.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m only offering it to you,” Irileth replies, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. (And Astarion wonders why the others believe him to be untrustworthy, when he makes unsettling comments like that.) “Seeing as you wouldn’t do that.”

“Of course not,” he hums, brushing his thumb over the bite marks he left two days ago, still tender and bruised, and Irileth curls her fingers into the tops of her thighs to stop herself from flinching.

It wasn’t until she caught her reflection in the mirror earlier today at Moonhaven that she realized how different her marks were compared to his. While hers were clean and precise, two nearly perfect circles in her purplish flesh, Astarion’s scar tissue was thick and jagged, like twin sunbursts.

Like Cazador had wanted them to hurt.

“Whenever I want…” Astarion muses as he bows his head, tucking into her neck, and Irileth fails to suppress her shiver at the low tenor of his voice. “And what about what you want? Surely there’s something I can give you in return this time. It doesn’t feel quite fair otherwise.”

Irileth plants her hands against the tree, digging her nails into the bark, carving indents into the wood. “It’s not a trade.”

Astarion becomes still, and Irileth can tell he is weighing her words, trying to determine if she truly means that. Then, he says, “Very well. Play coy all you like, dear. I’m sure you’ll let me know sooner or later.”

Astarion’s hands hold her carefully, cradling her head and pressing against her shoulder. She can hear the wet sound as he opens his mouth but Irileth stops him suddenly, pulling gently at the hair at the back of his neck. “Wait.”

Astarion inhales sharply, fingers digging into her shoulder in a way that sends a thrill down Irileth’s spine. She… gods, she really wants to just let him get on with this. But after all of his talk about rewards and returns, this, Irileth feels, is important.

“This isn’t payback either,” she breathes, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “For helping me this morning. I just… wanted you to know.”

Astarion doesn’t reply, though she can feel him tremble beneath her hands. Then, with a final caress over the back of her shoulder, soothing the spot where his nails had dug in, he bites down.

The pain is sharp at first, twin shards of ice that pierce and pop the delicate flesh of her neck. Irileth gasps, arching against him, and one of Astarion’s hands flies to her sternum to hold her in place lest she tear her skin on his teeth. Soon enough, the sensation dulls and she slips once more into that lake of cool placidity, feeling her essence drain into him with every beat of her terrible heart.

Irileth likes this, she realizes, helping Astarion.

(An insidious thought, spoiling her peace: Or do you just like that helping him makes you feel better about yourself?)

It is over too soon and Irileth sighs, bereft, when she feels Astarion’s teeth slip free. He retreats, though not before he indulges in one final, slow suck.

“A wonderful little treat,” he purrs, right in Irileth’s ear and she shivers again. She feels both numb and oversensitive, her skin prickling all over, like static.

“A treat?” she laughs a bit dazedly. “Is that all?”

“Hm, perhaps I misspoke. A feast,” he mumbles, resting his temple against her shoulder as he drags his finger through a small line of blood that trails down her neck. His hair tickles the edge of her jaw (So soft!) and he puts the reddened tip of his finger in his mouth. “A five course meal is what you are.”

This incorrigible man… “I wasn’t fishing for compliments. I only want to make sure you’ve had your fill.”

“You have given me more than enough.” Astarion’s fingers curl around her wrist as he lifts his head, pressing his thumb into her pulse point. Measuring. “It is you, my dear, who could stand to be more selfish.”

He pulls her hand into his lap and draws the tip of his finger along the inside of her wrist, following the vein up the length of her arm, exposed by her loose sleeves. Irileth jolts away, feeling his sudden touch on her sensitive skin—so feather-light and teasing—spear through her nerves like lightning. Her neck twinges in protest.

“I—sorry,” Irileth hastens to apologize, abashed by her sudden jumpiness, all over a simple touch. “I think it’s just… too much, right now.”

“No harm done,” Astarion replies smoothly, pulling his hands back into the safety of his lap. “Lesson learned: I’ll ask before I touch.”

A hungry part of her mourns. That’s not at all what she wants—for him to stop touching her. (To stop making her feel real.)

“You don’t have to.”

Astarion regards her carefully, though without judgment. “I think I still will, if it’s all the same to you.”

Irileth nods, trying not to let her disappointment show, especially when Astarion gets to his feet, dusting bits of moss and bark from his trousers.

“Shall we return to camp now?” he asks. “Or do you need a moment?”

“I’ll be fine,” Irileth answers, though as she moves to stand, it immediately becomes evident that she does, in fact, need a moment. Or at least some help.

She staggers back to sit on the fallen tree, pinching the bridge of her nose as dark spots swarm her vision, waving Astarion off when he braces to catch her. He hums slightly as he waits for her to collect herself, a song that sounds oddly familiar to Irileth, though she cannot place it.

“I’m better now,” Irileth announces when her head stops spinning.

“Oh? And are you sure?” Astarion teases.

Irileth drops her hand from her face, opening her eyes to roll them, when she finds Astarion knelt beside her, his red gaze bright. He holds his hand out to her, palm up.

“May I?” he asks, curling his fingers toward hers.

And if that isn’t a sight. She finds that she quite likes it when he asks.

Irileth nods and fits her hand into his, letting him guide her through the night.

She dreams she is in a city.

Not just any city—Baldur’s Gate.

This knowledge comes from deep within, a resonance that rings through the cavernous depths of her soul. The signature terracotta-roofed buildings strike a chord of familiarity in her, as if she has spent many a day gazing at them and just as many nights sheltering beneath them. She can see the River Chionthar, sparkling under the beaming sun as it curls against the edge of the Lower City. She walks the cobblestone streets, guided by instinct alone, and runs her fingers against the stonework of the city’s defensive wall.

All of it familiar, all of it coated in red.

Bodies are piled along the edges of the streets, spilling into the town square like so much rubble. The grand fountains that accentuate the well-manicured parks gurgle sluggishly with ichor, and Irileth yearns to bathe in the crimson depths. Cemeteries overflow, full of victims, her victims, of the past and of the future. Not a soul stirs, above or below ground, and Irileth basks in the silence as she winds her way through this labyrinth of death, a city executed, her feet carrying her toward the docks, as if on their own accord. Onward she moves, with divine and detestable purpose.

The Gate is gloriously empty, devoid of life, and soon, so too shall be the world.

Irileth bursts into wakefulness, gasping.

Instinctively, she clutches at her chest, nails scraping a touch too hard over her sternum, causing fine welts to swell up. Her heart beats wildly, loudly, threatening to punch through her chest, and Irileth has to squeeze her eyes shut to stop herself from imagining what her most vital organ would look like, disembodied and quivering on her bedroll. Would it be dark and twisted, or does it look like any other heart, insidious in its banality?

Irileth tears her hand away from her chest to slide her fingers over her neck, and—She hisses a sharp breath through her teeth as she probes against the tender and bruised wounds there, the bite marks Astarion left behind. Then, and only then, does awareness return and her fear ebbs away, leaving a strange hollowness behind.

Irileth struggles to sit up, her body at once too light and too heavy for her bones. Her limbs prickle all over as her blood—spread thinner than usual—sluggishly returns to them, instilling feeling once more. Ah, that.

Irileth casts about, her gaze flitting around her tent as her mind slowly catches up to the present. Last she remembers, she was in the forest with Astarion, his teeth in her neck, and—yes, their quiet walk back to camp, hand in hand.

Everything is as Irileth left it when they first made camp, before she dragged herself to the fire to supper. Her blades are stowed away, tucked beneath her bedding, and her armor sits in a misshapen pile near the tent flaps. With no small amount of relief, Irileth notes that there are no innocent dead to be found, though she still catches herself checking her hands and beneath her nails for blood.

She is hesitant to believe it, but Irileth ultimately deduces that all is well. Or as well as it can be, anyway.

She sags against her bedroll, lacing her hands over her stomach, and tries to remember what roused her awake. Although her heart still hammers away, her dream has already faded, sunken into the depthless craters of her porous brain, leaving only the faintest impression behind: I am home.

The idea makes her chest ache, yearning for something that will make this gruesome mess of her life make sense. She had belonged somewhere, once—where? And to whom? Irileth tries to dig deeper, but both her dreams and her memories are all but water in her hands. Her temples throb with exhaustion.

Time ticks slowly by, and as Irileth feels her body start to grow heavy with sleep once more, her mind drifts, as it has been wont to do all day, to Alfira. She wonders what the girl looked like as she died. Squirming, skewered, in abject agony—

Irileth gets up, covered in a cold sweat, and abandons her tent as well as any hopes of returning to sleep altogether.

No one else is awake when she emerges, although the campfire still burns brightly at the center of their site. Irileth’s brain thumps painfully within her skull in response to the light, so intense compared to the darkness behind her eyelids. She staggers toward the edge of camp and beyond, offering a brief pat to Scratch when he whines and lifts his head at her passing.

Irileth crosses a fallen tree trunk over the waterfall-fed stream that borders the northern edge of the campsite. On the other side of the waterway stands a small ruin made of crumbling stone and Irileth hobbles inside, taking advantage of the privacy the (barely) enclosed space offers her.

They first found this campsite on the eve of the day they met Wyll. The ancient building had been the visible marker that drew them to investigate the area , and, already a group of six (seven, including Withers, though he came and went as he pleased), the stone enclosure was too small to hold them all, though it needn’t have. The clearing it watched over was perfect for their needs, right next to running freshwater, bordered on one side by a large rock formation and the river on another, making it easy to defend. It was an oasis by all relative standards; a safe haven.

And now, Irileth has tainted it.

She slumps to the ground in the corner of the ruins, ill with regret and bones heavy with fatigue. As the minutes tick by and she distracts herself by studying the stars through the open roof, Irileth thinks that maybe she could fall asleep here. It is peaceful, and although they are cracked and coated with dust, being surrounded by walls of stone rather than flimsy canvas soothes her by some margin. If only she didn’t see the bard’s face every time she closes her eyes. Why did she die?

“Milady?”

Irileth jumps to her feet and her head throbs at the too-sudden movement as she reaches for her blades. Too late, she realizes that they’re missing, still tucked beneath her bedroll back in her tent.

Standing before her is some sort of being, short and gnarled. Instantly, Irileth is struck with a feeling of fond disgust at the sight of it: beaked nose, pointy bat-like ears, long nails, and decomposing corpse-skin. Irileth cannot put a name to it, this thing, and though her knowledge of Faerûn’s beasts is only limited to what she has read in books or encountered here in the forests of Elturgard, she has a strong feeling that this being in front of her is not common nor is it something that is just found in the wild.

(She thinks, for some irrational and unfathomable reason, that this creature was made for her.)

“Jubilant day! I have found your vile self at last!” he exclaims in a quivering voice, clasping his hands as he looks Irileth over with naked adoration. She can only return a blank stare, tinged with her slowly growing horror.

“Sceleritas Fel. Your loyal and ever-adoring butler.” He bows to her, hands held out beseechingly. His tiny teeth are sharp and yellow, peeking out from thin, scarred lips. “I followed you, my dear rotted Master. We have been parted so tragically long.”

A fixture of her past, then, he must be. Irileth narrows her eyes, curling her fingers in the air. Her nails are long enough, she thinks, to strip his flesh from his bones. “What in the Hells do you mean, you’re my butler ?”

“One Hell of a Butler, the most unprincipled servant you could hope for,” Sceleritas Fel announces proudly, hobbling from side to side on revolting, clawed feet. “You have always struggled to conduct yourself properly without me.”

That gives her pause. Struggled to conduct herself properly? Does that mean she has always fallen prey to these despicable urges, or that she has always tried to resist them? She supposes it comes down to what this dark devotee of hers thinks is proper . Irileth strains to remember anything useful about her old self, but she succeeds only in making her brain pulse, a maelstrom of nausea storming through her.

“I found you,” the profane Butler explains, “following the stench of that bard. She reeked across the coast like a piece of dog-muck on the road.”

Irileth’s heart stops in her chest. “Did you…” She becomes furious, enraged. “Was it you who caused me to kill her?”

Irileth lunges for Sceleritas Fel, but he leaps away, giggling in delight. “Oh no! Such fine work could never be done by a wretch like me!”

“Then what—” Irileth starts to ask, though she knows it is pointless. She alone is responsible for Alfira’s slaughter, even if she still does not know how.

Sceleritas Fel holds his gnarled hands up before him, and something long and flowing materializes in his palms. “I come once again bearing a part of your dreadful inheritance,” he proclaims.

His clawed feet click click click against the rough-hewn stone floor as he approaches, and Irileth stumbles back until she meets the wall. But the creature doesn’t touch her. Instead, he only lays his boon out at her feet, and Irileth sees that it is a cloak of some sort; even with only the dim light of the moon and stars above to support her vision, she can see how the fabric shimmers, a deep and rich velvet.

Irileth’s soul purrs at the sight of it, the color—

Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

“You earned this iniquitous prize through your great show of exceptional violence the other night,” the Butler elucidates, his voice filled with sick reverence, all for her.

Then, he reaches toward her to graze a sharp, blackened talon down the length of her thigh, and Irileth jerks back so hard, her elbow collides into the stone wall with a snap. Pain radiates down her arm—not broken, but certainly bruised—and the Butler inhales deeply with sadistic pleasure.

“Oh, my Lady,” he sighs in awe, closing his beady amber eyes. “The pain you bring is always the most succulent. I’m sure Master will be better soon. A fellow of your fine breeding is never down for long, and I cannot wait until your next act of shameless barbarity.”

Her fine breeding? Her dreadful inheritance? What riddles this loathsome servant speaks in, alluding to some accursed lineage, some foul benefactor to whom she belongs to. Irileth surges forward again, and this time she succeeds in grabbing the Butler by the front of his leathery, tattered doublet. “There will be no more barbarity!”

But contrary to her proclamation, her fingers itch to wrap around his neck, to squeeze until his spoiled flesh bulges out and she can cradle his exposed throat in her hand. She wants to fling him against the wall, see how he splatters —

Sceleritas Fel titters again, like he knows exactly what she is thinking. “Death wants everything to do with you, good villain!” Then he smiles, sharp teeth exposed, fetid breath wafting out. “Be true to yourself, my Lady.”

And then he’s gone in a puff of red mist. Irileth’s fingers instinctively flex, grasping nothing but air. The only thing that remains of the Butler is the cloak he left behind.

Something in Irileth screams not to touch it. Any remnant of her old life should be cast into the furthest reaches of the Hells; she wants no gift from her dread Butler. But… Irileth edges closer to it, this nefarious pile of fabric on the floor. It’s just a mantle, it cannot hurt her or anyone else. She is the weapon, the thing to be feared.

The cloak is a token of her past. Maybe there will be something she can glean from it; if she understands her old life better, then maybe it will help her prevent it from consuming her again.

At the very least, the damn thing might be useful in a fight.

Irileth picks up the cloak. Nothing happens. There is no curse bestowed or sickness cast upon her, but she does extract its name, vibrating through her marrow: Deathstalker Mantle.

She thinks she has an idea of what it will do, this new boon of hers.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #the dark urge #durge #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #astarion ancunin

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pro-master-garage-doors · 3 months

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Finding Experienced Garage Door Technicians Near Me in Los Angeles Edition

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garagegateservice · 4 months

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themistressofdolls · 7 months

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Xenos the Cat UNLEASHED II

Chapter I: https://www.tumblr.com/themistressofdolls/743616576495009792/xenos-the-cat-unleashed

Chapter II:

THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS

We landed the jump jet in an underground cave system and started to use parts to build a high tech base where we lived for the next five years.

We played games and had fun but I was bored and wanted to go to the surface to fight back against Baconman that's when we decided to form the freedom fighters!

I went to rusted jumpjet cleaning up out guns and we repaired it and flew to the surface world which was a wasteland now, all the forests and nature was gone “I'll land us in the western kingdom.” Felix the fox said and landed the jumpjet.

We landed in a ruined town filled with skeletons that had been dead a long time “What the hell happened here???!!!!!” I was angry.

Inside a building we found a note that was handed out to the people from Doctor Baconman.

“As your religious pope our enemies of sin are drawing near, thus for the final order all citizens must kill themselves to go to heaven under my command.”

I was fucking sickened by the note “Religion makes people stupid! They took their own fucking lives because of that asshole brainwashing them!” I clenched my fist.

Those who didn't die in the war had been brainwashed by Doctor Baconmans evil religion then made to take their own lives, no nobody but the freedom fighters and Baconmans robots where left.

Fist the echidna was furious as he punched the wall and cried “HE CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS!” He screamed as Cinos hugged him.

“I can't believe it, religion convinced every human, every demihuman on the planet to take their own lives because of some lie of an afterlife.”

I shrugged apathetically because I was above such notions of stupid people “More like a religion of evil, if these people put their stock in it then it only proves they where pretty dumb.”

Operation doomsday and the truth of Parabus

After investigating the ruins we learned Doctor Ivan Baconman had constructed a factory city called mechrotropolis where his citadel was so we got in the jump jet and started our final plan to bring down his empire and avenge the furry people!

In the control room of the citadel Doctor Ivan Baconman watched on the monitors “It tickles my dead black heart to see the planet in ruins Pibley, hahaha.” Baconman laughed

“Yes sire.” Pibley said spinelessly

Typing on the controls Pibley activated the defence systems firing missiles at our jump jet “We're going to crash, hold on tight! Ahhhh!” Fist said and I grabbed my buster sword, duel pistols and jumped sky diving without a parachute because my mana allowed me to use feather fall magic.

“HERE I COME BACAONMAN! IF YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE THEN TOO BAD, COPE AND CRY!” I laughed as I started shooting down tons of his robots pretty easily.

A big robot with mini guns for arms and duel rocket launchers attacked but I used hadoken blast to blow it to smithereens “You went down like a bitch.” I laughed and Cinos and the others where impressed with how powerful I had grown in five years.

Baconman was watching on his machine throne punching the computers “PIBLEY KILL THAT FUCKING CAT BOY! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” He picked Pibley up by the collar choking him.

“Y...yes sire at once sire!” Pibley cried sending stronger tactical robots out.

I went super on command and blew the robots apart with a single Ki Sinki beam “Is that the best you've got? Pathetic, I'm coming to end this Bacon boy!” and I blew up the main gate and flew into the base cutting down 100s of robots with my buster sword.

“Begin operation doomsday, if I can not have planet Parabus NOBODY CAN!” Baconman smiled with evil and his robotic eyes glowed red.

Rushing to the bases reactor core I fought two G809 robots which where heavily armed and put up a fight but Cinos spin dashed them and I was able to blast them with a hailstorm of bullets as they exploded “We're almost there lets kick Bacon boys imperial butt!” Cinos smiled and ran in at light speed.

Fist the echidna then drop slammed the ground sending robots into the air as they exploded into pieces of scrap “You want a fight, you got one!” Fist taunted.

We arrived at the reactor chamber and Doctor Baconman was there in a gaint mecha armed to the teeth “So you must be Xenos the one working with that annoying hedgehog Cinos, I will make mincemeat out of you.” Baconman was pretty pissed off which was funny to me.

“You're going to die for ruining the planet Parabus.” I drew my buster sword.

Baconman armed his mecha and laughed “You fool you have no idea, the planet Parabus is EARTH IN THE FAR FUTURE! Aliens attacked and humans and aliens used horrific weaponry that ruined the planet and created a new age and furries but you all forgot the black history and repeated the cycle of war! In fact humans where so stupid I was able to take over their religion and use it to control them because religion is for stupid people hahahahaha!”

I got pissed off remembering the millions who died because of what Doctor Baconman did during the war and when he became pope.

“TIME TO DIE!” I shouted.

But the doctor wagged his finger as his robotic eyes glowed and he took out a switch “I recreated the same photon gene bombs used in the war three thousand years ago which are buried under the earth and when I press this button operation doomsday will begin turning the bombs on as they explode the planets core!”

A hologram appeared showing me the black history, warfare between mech armors, nuclear bombs raining on the planet over and over then alien bio-mutagenic weapons cracking the crust as a new war turned the planet to hell with overlords, fascists, rebels and regimes rising and falling over the eons to where we are today.

“This is the black history and you where part of it hahaha.” The Doctor smirked.

He then typed into his mechas command console “Now I shall create a new black history and reduce this planet into molten slag.”

I wasn't scared of such a stupid threat as I flash stepped instant teleporting next to him as I sliced his trigger finger arm off with my buster sword as black blood sprayed everywhere “MY ARM YOU PIECE OF SHIT I HATE YOU!” Baconman screamed in pain and I laughed.

“GO TO HELL AND DON'T COME BACK!” And I punched him through the chest and crushed his nanomachine powered cyborg heart as the life drained from him.

Doctor Ivan Baconman the brutal tyrant of the planet Parabus and bane of the freedom fighter was dead.

Constructing the Sutakatta gunblade

As the base began to self destruct the reactor created a portal and I was pulled in falling through a vortex as I crashed into a strange temple and there was a miko priestess there “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO CINOS?!” I shouted.

“My name is Reimi Hikari a shrine maiden, you must be an outsider.” She smiled joyfully at me which I found pretty annoying but it started to grow on me.

I sighed “Who the hell are you calling an outsider and where am I?” I shouted because this was a strange place with forests and mountains.

“You are in Genshinki a land of magic that boarders on the Earth world as you know it, here the mysterious lives in harmony but you must be careful because humans can be eaten by youkai here if they are not careful.” She explained to me.

I laughed “I'm not human, I'm a cat and I know how to fight so don't worry about me.”

Some vampire girls where starting an incident and Reimi and her friends had to go stop them so I decided to help out, when they saw how powerful my super form was they quickly backed down realizing that messing with me was a bad idea.

Me and Reimi as well as her friend Marcala became a good team as we went on a few adventures to stop rouge youkai and magicians.

One day we went to the angel mountain where the Goddess Lunaria lived “This is where the golden forge is, a forge created by the Gods of old.” Marcala explained as went inside and the forge was huge.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” I gasped and the Goddess Lunaria appeared and she was beautiful.

She looked at my weapons “Reimi said you wanted a sword, I can help you form a legendary weapon that will complement your incredible power!” She said.

That's when I had an idea “Make me something cool, I want a gunblade! Then my enemies will think twice before they fuck with me in the future.”

We gathered chaos metal the rarest metal in Genshinki along with ultima grade mana crystals and omega carbon metal as I helped hammer the forge constructing the blade and blessing it with the power of the 50 spirits of the divine sages.

Through the celestial fires the SUTAKATTA GUNBLADE WAS FORGED and I marked it with my own blood to sign it as mine as I swung the blade and its shock wave alone was so powerful it cleaved a wall in half “NOW I'M PLAYING WITH POWER!” I smirked.

The lunar fall ceremony

One morning everyone in Genshinki started going crazy as a fairy with a chainsaw came into the shine “I WANT TO SEE THE PRETTY RED WATER COME OUT OF HEHE!” And she spun around with the chainsaw but I cut it in half with the Sutakatta gunblade.

I used cure of moons to restore her since I knew some kind of force had corrupted her AND I WAS RIGHT!

“What the hell is going on and why you acting so crazy?” I asked her and the fairy calmed down realizing what she tried to do.

The blue haired water fairy tried to remember “It was last night there was a bright glow from the moon and everyone became angry and insane.” She cried.

I realized a dangerous incident was happening so I got geared up putting on my cool wizard trenchcoat and taking my gunblade. I had been here a while and studied magic so I had gotten a lot better at casting high level spells “Something must be wrong with the moon.” It was easy for me to piece that together because I used my mind palace which let me think really fast.

Outside it was chaos in the forests and human town of Steamberg as everyone was on a rampage torturing and killing each other “I won't let the god damn moon ruin this beautiful world I have come to love!” I screamed to the heavens.

I tracked down my friend and fellow merc Udon Bunny who was a demihuman like me but half bunny instead of cat “What is doing this? You have history with the moon you must know something!” I asked.

“Its the Lunar fall ceremony, you see a thousand years ago people settled on the moon under the Goddess Tsukuyomi but they grew to hate humans because they where infested with the concept of sin and even worse they hate Genshinki more because they seem them as the most impure of beings who must be purged.” she told me and it made my blood boil.

It made my blood boil with fire “They remind me of another group from the Earth world we called nazis.” I snapped back BECAUSE I HATE NAZIS!

War against the Lunarians

I flew towards the boarder of Genshinki where a golden spaceship was there setting up a relay device with some bunny soldiers “So Udon Bunny was right, it is the moon.”

A katana welding woman with an eye patch was there “So you must be the legendary Xenos but the power of the Lunar gods makes us invincble so why not just lay down and accept your death because you have no chance against us.” She smugged.

I went super mode as my hair turned gold and my aura was more bright it seemed in my anger I had became an asended super demi human “What is this power, how did you became an asended demi human?” The general lady was shocked and tried to channel her goddesses power into her katana but I teleported out of the way and drove the Sutakatta gunblade through her chest as blood and guts went everywhere and the bunny soldiers where fucking terrified because I took their powerful general out in one hit “Welcome to the slaughter, motherfuckers!” I grinned as I started taking them out and they screamed in terror as I sliced and diced them with my gunblade then blew the rest up with ki attacks.

Remembering the taoist teachings I learned I used the flow to pick up their golden space ship which scared Udon and Reimi “Don't worry I've got this.” and I spun at light speed and threw the ship which blasted into space and smashed into the Lunar capital on the moon as causing a nuclear blast.

Then I flew into space focusing all my power as I slammed into the moon.

The Lunarian locals where scared shitless as a tainted Earth person dared step on their world “They are an inferior lifeform, they poison our great holy land by standing here!” Shouted a Lunar noble so I fired a hadoken beam blowing him up.

“The world below is my domain and anyone who fucks with it is messing me and for hurting those I care about YOU'RE GONNA KNOW REAL PAIN!” I warned them but it didn't stop them as the Lunarian knights and Samurai came out to fight me with high level moon magic.

I took out my MP3 player putting the song holy frick on getting me into an epic mood as I started punching the soldiers guts out taking them out one by one at high speeds.

Powering back up into asended super demihuman I flew high speed turning hundreds of lunarian elite soldiers into gibs while launching thousands of punches while flying “Muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda!” I shouted

Channeling my form I used ulitma magic to blow up buildings and even used the flow to throw larger buildings into soldiers.

Suddenly some castle guards stopped me in massive armor they put up more of a fight but I used the absolute blood shell attack from my gunblade cracking their lunarian armor then I sliced them up as they went down.

I used the X slash cutting the castle doors into four pieces and ran inside as I cut down guard after guard making my way to the top floor to find the nasty eugenics woman who was running the entire lunarian operation.

At the top floor which was like a palace the leader was an elegant women with a katana and fan and her magical power was over the limit “I am lady Tomoyo commander of the Lunar armed forces, so you are demi human interfearing with her cleansing operation of the earth but know this by destorying the tainted boarder world we will spread purity to earth world and bring an era of peace.” She said.

“Peace? AT THE COST OF MY FRIENDS!? THATS NO PEACE WORTH PAYING!” I pointed my gunblade at her.

She giggled “A few million lives is a perfect price for peace, after all how many breads do you eat?” Lady Tomoyo laughed with no empathy for her victims.

Rushing forward with pure rage in my asended super form I punched her over 500 times at light speed but she dodged each blow and the hits that did connect did zero damage to her “WHAT KIND OF POWER IS THIS AND WHY CAN'T I DO ANY DAMAGE!”

She glowed with a bright light light and fired thousands of beams at me as I took a lot of damage, it was the first time in a while someone put up a real fight against me.

“Heel boy!” She smirked at me turning her katana into a metal whip as she slashed me with it over and over

Lady Tomoyo then summoned silver spears of moonlight stabbing me in my arms and legs as I was pinned to the wall.

The moonlight ceremony shined through the window as it touched my blood but because of my power and strong will it didn't drive me insane but instead I felt the flow of the moon goddess in my being as silver light covered me “I let myself go to the power of the moon like the magic users of the eternaity kingdom!” I said as the moonlight covered me surpassing all my previous forms as I exploded into light with silver spiked hair and a silver trench coat which sparked.

THIS WAS MY LUNAR SUPER FORM AWAKENED!!

“This is impossible the moon serves us the true and most pure beings HOW COULD THE GODDESS GIVE YOU POWER AN INFERIOR LIKE YOU!” Lady Tomoyo screamed as her once beauitful face had the most ugly pissed off expression, she was really seething hard.

Feeling my unlocked power my speed supassed lady Tomoyo who couldn't keep up as I channeled silver energy into Sutakatta breaking her katana whip into pieces then I punched her two thousand times at sonic boom speed with each punch cracking a rib over and over “ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!” I shouted punching her again and again and kicking her hard in the face as she smashed through a wall and out into the lunar surface as I flew after her “YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY FROM ME YOU MOON NAZI BASTARD!” I shouted kicking her into the air.

The injustice of what she did flashed through my memory, the millions the Lunarians would have killed had I not stopped them “I realize what I must do I HAVE TO FINISH YOU OFF SO YOUR EVIL REIGME DIES WITH YOU!” Then I flew at light speed as my fists slammed into her chest and her back burst spraying blood everywhere.

Then I kept flying before punching her into the surface of Mars where she exploded.

However I exhusted so much energy and reverted back to super demihuman one as I drifted back to Earth and started burning up in the atmosphere.

THE RETURN TO EARTH AND MY EVIL SELF

I crashed into Japan just outside Tokyo and some yakuza guys took me in and nursed me back to health “We found you outside the city pretty beat up so we got some medicine to help you because you look pretty badass like us.” Said the tough Yakuza guy in the white suit.

“Thanks for the help but I can look after myself.” and I used a taoist healing meditation techquine called a healing trance to regenerate myself which impressed the yakuza clan.

The tough guy respected me “You seem pretty strong, our clan the Shinigami Yakuza have been attacked by our rival the orge alliance who are working with some strong fighter who killed some of our best guys.” He told me.

I wanted a challenge so I told the yakuza guy that I'd take care of it.

Out on the street I was fucking shocked to see who it was IT WAS ZENOS MY DARK SELF AND HE WAS KILLING SHINIGAMI PEOPLE “I thought I destoryed you back in America!” I took out the Sutakatta while Zenos drew the Crystal pandemonium blade which transformed into the Crystal pandemonium GUNBLADE.

“Evil never dies Xenos no matter how many times you kill it.” He said with a sick smile and we clashed blades but I powered up into my Lunar super form and cut him into four pieces then fired a lunar Kanaihen beam atomizing him once and for all.

The tough Yakuza guy thanked me and his name turned out to be Ken Ryugati so we had a big feast that night and they declared me a friend of the Shinigami clan.

My life in Tokyo

It had been a few months since I settled down and moved in with my new girlfriend Nyan Chan and her best friends Nekomata and Ryo-Owo who where cat demihumans like me and we had fun adventures plus I started going to school with them because growing up as I did I never managed to get an education.

School in Japan was pretty fun all things considered plus with all powerful I was the bullies never fucked with anyone or else they would deal with me.

We had lunch together like we did every day “Try the bento box Xeno its a Japanese delicacy.” Nyan chan smiled and it tasted really good.

I also had a can of monster assault to wash it down because its my favourite flavor “Lets hit the arcades after class Nyan chan.” I said and WE DID!

Me, Nyan-Chan, Nekomata, Ryo-Owo and the others from class went down to the Akiba arcade which was massive and had every arcade machine from shooters to dance machines and we had an amazing time.

I got the high score in BEMANI which blew everyone away “Wow, Xenos you're amazing at gaming.” Said one of the girls from class who had a crush on me but she had no chance because my heart belonged to Nyan-Chan.

The Evil headmaster strikes

One day at school everyone was weird and acting like a bunch of fucked up conformists complete with fucked up uniforms like they where in some kind of nazi youth group “What the fucking hell is going on?” I shouted and they pointed at me.

“You have free will you will be punished by the new headmaster” they all said together in a creepy voice so I used a sonic strike attack to knock them out, I broke a few bones but I didn't kill anyone because it seemed they where under some kind of hypnosis.

I met Ryo-Owo and she told me a new headmaster had taken over the school called Ken Starmer and had brainwashed people to become conformists to serve his evil agenda.

Someone had to confront this Evil headmaster and brainwashing my friends was a fast track way to end up in a body bag so I grabbed the Sutakatta gunblade and my High breaker katana and went to find the headmasters office.

I confronted Ken Starmer who had purple sunglasses on and a white jacket looking like some kind of fucked up alien scientist “I knew you where coming here, you are a rule breaker and we can not allow rule breaking in our new orderly and proper society of British values which I am bringing to Japan.” Said Ken Starmer.

“Why are you doing this you boring conformist nutjob?” I demanded some answers and the wrong answers would have be taking heads.

He stood up almost robotically “You see Japan is too free, I will make a world of order where people will work and produce for society. People have too much freedom and emotion which must be corrected through British value systems.” He said.

“I shall now drink from the puddle of darkness.” He consumed black water from a pit in his office as he glowed with evil magic.

Before he could do anything I went into Lunar super demihuman form and cut his head off as yellow blood and wires sprayed everywhere which was fucked up “KEN STARMERS A ROBOT? HES A GOD DAMN ROBOT!”

I had no idea who built him or for what but the school was back to normal “Lets go home play some fortnite and get something to eat haha” I smiled and Nyan-Chan hugged me.

The betrayal of friends

I went back to my house after school when tech-swat officers in black armor opened fire on me “This is section eight hanzer corps, you are the infamous Xenos the cat you will come with us for containment and arrest!” Said the swat command.

I wiped blood off my cheek and drew my katana channelling fire as the blade was lit up with flames “You made a big mistake, now you're going to pay the price!” I warned them as I sliced them apart, using the katana to cut up their bullets before they even got near me.

After I killed the last swat soldier I went to Nyan-Chans house to warn her “It was me I reported you to section eight for the reward money, I had to get it to pay for my moms healthcare since she is dying.” She looked sad and I understood.

Through when I left I SWORE I WOULD KILL EVERYONE SHE LOVED FOR HER BETRAYAL!

Revengence against Nyan-Chan

I pushed glowing red energy through the Suttakata gunblade was I went to the police station first to make them pay for daring to attack me. The gunblade was covered in red glowing light as the police ran to the hall to take positions and I used the taoist arts to crush the front doors and began cutting each officer down one by one.

They fled in fear as I rammed them into walls and the roof. One stupid idiot banged on the door crying for mercy as I stabbed him through the door.

They where scared shitless as I focused raw mana into my hand and used the flow to crush every bone in one guys body.

After that I went to Nyan-Chans home as I killed all her friends and loved ones as she cried and then I finished her off.

My training in Russia.

I took a plane to Moscow and when I landed I punched the countries leader Vladimir Putin so hard I knocked all his teeth out and left his face a mess in order to assert my dominance. Lets just say the Russian military and police didn't want to mess with me after that.

Knowing what I had to do I went deep into the mountains where a group of magic users where training lead by the gun mage mercenary BLACKROSE! I heard about the legends that she has over 300 kills, not as much as me but I had to respect her kill level.

She was training with her elemental rifle when she came me arrive “So you are Xeno Edgeblade I have been expecting you.” She knew my code name Edgeblade which surprised me at first.

“I know lots of things, our order has agents all over the world gathering intelligence.” She explained to me and it made sense.

Suddenly time slowed down as she punched me into the air “Your training begins now, there will be no mercy BE READY!” She said taking me off guard as we sparred together with the other gun mages.

I used the fire arm kata about to channel mana through my guns, plus I trained to shoot better while slashing with my melee weapons.

Forging Odin and Zenkata

Blackrose took me deep into the forests to mine the rare Omega metal then we started to forge two magic magnums which I called ODIN AND ZENKATA! I tested them firing off 100s of shots as my magic regenerated ammo GIVING ME INFINITE BULLETS!

I felt even more badass than before as I summoned magic golems filling them up with round after round as I did sick moves in midair, cutting one of the golems heads off with my gunblade then slicing the other with my katana then firing 50 shots into its remains.

“You have done well, with these devil arms you shall be a true gun mage.” Blackrose said as my training as complete.

My job as a freelancer

As a gun mage I travelled the world hunting down evil crime bosses, terrorists and rouge magic users as a mercenary and I was good at it!

My last job took me to the middle east to hunt down the leaders of ISIS as I ran along the walls opening fire as a storm of magical bullets rained down on them and they where so scared they shit themselves and I laughed “WELCOME TO THE STORM!” I taunted them taking one of their leaders down with my gunblade and another with duel katanas.

After that I got a huge bounty reward from the united nations who thanked me for putting an end to ISIS once and for all.

My infamy grew through each job that I earned the title KATANA OF JUSTICE because I used my duel welding katanas to finish my targets off.

Crystal destiny final mix

I was walking down the street when an energy field surrounded me and warped me to a realm of crystal outside the void filled with floating crystal castles and alien looking structures “WHERE THE FUCKING HELL AM I RIGHT NOW!” I was going to waste the asshole who sprited me away to this strange realm.

A man in black robes with glowing runes floated down wearing a silver mask covering his face “Xenos Edgeblade it is my duty to protect the timeline from you so the sundering can advance, I shall unmake the fall of my comrades and test your power!”

Suddenly I was face to face with the catboy known as Xenos Edgeblade as I played the battle music to the edge igniting my silver crystal X blades then sending ice fire towards him as I spun at him creating a circle of crystal ice which cut into him.

“You're not that bad but I'm better!” Xenos shouted charging at me with his gunblade which I perried using the crystal X blades

I slashed at him many times then spun creating a tornado of crystal ice laced with the power of the cold void itself which he quickly blocked “You are strong indeed, we shall meet again Xenos Edgeblade.” I said and opened a cloud of darkness vanishing into the unknown.

The strange robed man pissed off and the crystal ream shattered sending me back to the streets like nothing happened “Next time we meet I'll take you out!” I swore.

#Xenos the cat unleashed #christian humber reloaded #original story #original character #touhou #sonic the hedgehog #kingdom hearts #gunblade #edgy

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dellarussel · 9 months

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Swing Gate Repair Company Near Me

Swing gates offer a blend of security, elegance, and ease of use, making us a popular choice for both residential and commercial properties. However, when your swing gate requires repair or maintenance, it's crucial to have a reliable swing gate repair company near me provider. Delve into the specialized swing gate repair services offered by La Gates and Garage Doors, your trusted partner for swing gate maintenance and repair. With a strong emphasis on quality workmanship and customer satisfaction, La Gates and Garage Doors has earned a reputation as the top choice for swing gate owners in need of prompt and reliable repairs.

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For dependable, swift, and efficient swing gate repair company near me, La Gates and Garage Doors is the ideal choice. Our extensive expertise in repairing various swing gate types, 24/7 emergency availability, customized maintenance plans, use of high-quality replacement parts, competitive and transparent pricing, and unwavering commitment to customer satisfaction make us the premier swing gate repair company near me supplier. Whether you need immediate repairs or wish to ensure the long-term functionality and security of your swing gate, La Gates and Garage Doors is the reliable partner you can trust for exceptional swing gate repair services near you.

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sparkgaragedoorandgates · 11 months

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Spark Garage Doors and Gates

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Description:

Experience the Spark Garage Door and Gates Difference. At Spark Garage Door and Gates, we believe in using only the highest quality products and parts. We have established strong partnerships with leading manufacturers, enabling us to offer a wide range of options that are durable, reliable, and designed to withstand the test of time. Our team consists of experienced professionals who have extensive knowledge in all aspects of garage door and gate repair and installation. We stay up to date with the latest industry trends and techniques to ensure we provide the best solutions for our customers.

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onyxgaragedoors · 1 year

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Securing Homes Seamlessly: Modern Garage Door and Gate Services Near Me

Introduction

The security and functionality of your home depend greatly on the condition of your garage doors and gates. To ensure they operate smoothly and provide the protection you need, it's crucial to have access to reliable garage door and gate services near me. This guide walks you through the essential aspects of these services and how to locate trustworthy providers in your vicinity.

Garage Door and Gate Services Near Me: Your Ultimate Guide

Why Professional Garage Door and Gate Services Matter

Entrusting the care of your garage doors and gates to professionals ensures that they remain in optimal condition. Professional services offer benefits such as expertise, timely repairs, and the use of high-quality parts.

Types of Garage Door and Gate Services

Reputable providers offer an array of services to cater to your needs:

Installation: Professionals ensure that your new garage doors and gates are correctly installed for seamless operation.

Repairs: Whether it's a malfunctioning garage door opener or a gate that won't close, experts can diagnose and fix issues efficiently.

Maintenance: Regular maintenance keeps your doors and gates in prime condition, reducing the risk of unexpected problems.

Importance of Regular Maintenance

Regular maintenance plays a significant role in extending the lifespan of your garage doors and gates. By lubricating moving parts, inspecting for wear and tear, and addressing minor issues promptly, you can prevent major breakdowns and ensure your doors and gates function optimally.

How to Find Reliable Garage Door and Gate Services Near Me

Locating reputable providers is straightforward with these steps:

Online Search: Utilize search engines to find "garage door and gate services near me" for a list of local options.

Reviews and Ratings: Check online reviews and ratings to gauge the reputation and quality of services provided.

Ask for Recommendations: Seek recommendations from friends, family, or neighbors who have had positive experiences with service providers.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Service Provider

When selecting a garage door and gate service provider near me, consider:

Experience: Choose providers with years of experience to ensure skillful handling of various issues.

Credentials: Look for certifications and licenses that demonstrate the provider's legitimacy and expertise.

Customer Service: Opt for providers known for their excellent customer service and prompt response to inquiries.

FAQs About Garage Door and Gate Services

What's the recommended frequency for garage door and gate maintenance?

Regular maintenance is typically performed annually to catch and address potential issues before they escalate.

How long does a typical garage door or gate installation take?

Installation time varies based on factors such as the complexity of the system and the type of door or gate.

Can I attempt to repair my garage door or gate myself?

While some minor maintenance tasks can be performed by homeowners, complex repairs and installations are best left to professionals.

Are there eco-friendly options for garage doors and gates?

Yes, some providers offer eco-friendly materials and energy-efficient options for environmentally conscious homeowners.

How can I ensure the security of my automated gates?

Choosing a provider with experience in automated gate systems and security features is essential to ensure the safety of your property.

Do service providers offer emergency repair services?

Many reputable providers offer emergency repair services to address urgent issues promptly and ensure your security.

Conclusion

Professional garage door and gate services near me offer a combination of convenience and security. By entrusting the maintenance, repairs, and installations to experts, you can enjoy the peace of mind that comes with a well-functioning and secure home. Remember to prioritize experience, credentials, and customer service when selecting a service provider to ensure your needs are met effectively.

#garage door and gate services near me

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apartmentmanagementme · 1 year

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Apartment Management Near Me: Simplifying Living and Enhancing Community

Apartment living offers a convenient and vibrant lifestyle, but finding the right apartment management near me can make all the difference in creating a truly enjoyable living experience. From prompt maintenance responses to fostering a sense of community, a well-managed apartment complex can enhance your daily life. Whether you're seeking a cozy studio or a spacious family-friendly unit, discovering an apartment management team that prioritizes your needs and provides exceptional service is essential. With countless options available, locating the perfect apartment management near you is the first step towards finding your ideal home.

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Efficient Maintenance and Repairs:

A well-managed apartment complex ensures that maintenance and repair issues are promptly addressed. Whether it's a leaky faucet, malfunctioning electrical system, or a broken window, having dedicated apartment management professionals on-site guarantees quick resolutions. By efficiently managing maintenance requests, residents can enjoy a hassle-free living experience.

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Apartment complexes managed by professionals prioritize the safety and security of their residents. They implement robust security measures such as gated entries, surveillance systems, and trained security personnel. This ensures that residents can feel safe and secure within their community.

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Effective communication is vital for a thriving community. Apartment management companies employ various channels to keep residents informed about important updates, events, and maintenance schedules. These can include regular newsletters, online portals, and social media platforms. By keeping residents in the loop, apartment management fosters a sense of belonging and encourages community engagement.

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Professional apartment management services often provide an array of amenities and services to enhance the living experience. These may include fitness centers, swimming pools, communal spaces, laundry facilities, and on-site maintenance staff. Access to these amenities can greatly improve residents' quality of life and add value to their rental experience.

Benefits of Professional Apartment Management:

Financial Management:

One of the primary advantages of professional apartment management is effective financial management. They handle rent collection, budgeting, and financial reporting, ensuring that the complex operates smoothly. By utilizing their expertise, apartment management professionals can optimize revenue generation and minimize expenses.

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Navigating the legal aspects of apartment management can be complex and time-consuming. Professional management companies have an in-depth understanding of local, state, and federal laws pertaining to rental properties. They ensure that the complex adheres to all necessary regulations, reducing the risk of legal complications.

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Finding reliable tenants is crucial for maintaining a peaceful living environment. Apartment management professionals handle tenant screening, background checks, and lease agreements. This ensures that the community is composed of responsible individuals who respect the property and the rights of fellow residents.

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In any community, conflicts may arise between residents. Professional apartment management companies are well-equipped to handle such situations. They act as mediators, promoting open dialogue and resolving conflicts in a fair and efficient manner. This proactive approach helps maintain harmony and a positive atmosphere within the apartment complex.

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Living in an apartment complex offers numerous advantages, and having professional apartment management near you can greatly enhance your experience. From efficient maintenance and repairs to streamlined communication and enhanced security measures, apartment management professionals play a vital role in creating a thriving community. With their expertise in financial management, legal compliance, tenant screening, and conflict resolution, they ensure that residents enjoy a comfortable and hassle-free living environment. So, if you're searching for apartment management near you, consider the benefits of professional management services and choose a company that aligns with your needs.

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oliviajames1122 · 1 year

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5 Signs of Turbocharger Problems: What to Look for and When to Visit a Car Service in Reading

Turbochargers are a vital component of modern engines, particularly in high-performance vehicles. They use exhaust gases to compress the air going into the engine, increasing its efficiency and power output. However, like any mechanical device, turbochargers can develop problems over time that can affect their performance and cause damage to other parts of the engine. If you notice any of the following signs, it may be time to have your turbocharger inspected by a professional car service in Reading.

1. Decreased Power Output One of the most noticeable signs of a turbocharger problem is a decrease in the power output of your engine. This can be caused by a number of issues, such as a worn or damaged turbine or compressor wheel, a leak in the intake or exhaust system, or a malfunctioning waste gate or boost controller. If your vehicle feels sluggish or struggles to accelerate, it may be time to have your turbocharger checked by a qualified mechanic at a reputable car repairs near me.

2. Smoke or Oil Leaks Turbochargers rely on oil to lubricate their moving parts and prevent them from overheating. If the seals or bearings within the turbocharger wear out or fail, oil can leak into the exhaust or intake system, resulting in blue or white smoke coming out of the tailpipe. This can also cause a buildup of oil in the intercooler or intake manifold, which can impede airflow and reduce performance. If you notice any unusual smoke or oil leaks, it's important to have your car serviced by a professional in Reading as soon as possible to prevent further damage.

3. Unusual Noises Turbochargers are designed to operate smoothly and quietly, but if something goes wrong, they can produce a range of unusual sounds. A whining or whistling noise coming from the engine bay can indicate a damaged or worn-out compressor wheel, while a grinding or scraping sound may be a sign of a damaged turbine wheel or shaft. If you hear any unusual noises coming from your engine, it's best to have your vehicle inspected by a trained technician at a garage in Reading.

4. Rough Idling a turbocharger problem can also cause your engine to run roughly or stall at idle. This can be caused by a variety of issues, such as a clogged air filter, a damaged or worn-out turbocharger, or a malfunctioning waste gate or boost controller. If your engine seems to be running rough or stalling at idle, it's important to have it checked by a professional mechanic at a reliable repair garage near me.

5. Check Engine Light Finally, if you see the check engine light illuminated on your dashboard, it could be a sign of a turbocharger problem. The check engine light can be triggered by a variety of issues, including problems with the turbocharger's sensors, valves, or solenoids. If the light is on, it's best to have your car serviced by a qualified technician at a trusted car service in Reading to identify and fix the issue.

In conclusion, turbochargers are essential components of high-performance engines, but they can develop problems over time that can affect their performance and cause damage to other parts of the engine. If you notice any of the above signs, it's important to have your car inspected by a professional car service in Reading as soon as possible to prevent further damage and ensure your vehicle is running at its best. Regular maintenance and inspections can also help prevent turbocharger problems and extend the life of your engine.

#car repairs near me #Car garages in reading #Garages in reading #car repairs #repair garage near me #Car service in reading

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localizee · 2 years

Link

We specialize in Custom Residential Fencing, Commercial Fencing, and Custom gates, and we work with Wood, Iron & Aluminum, Vinyl, Brick and Chain-link.

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mastertechuaeae · 2 years

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Sliding Gate Motor Fixing

A Sliding Gate Gives Your House a Luxurious Look

Regardless of whether they are residential or commercial, various properties must have security measures built around their borders or perimeters. Clusters and gates are terms used to define these safety measures. Gates should be given proper consideration when developing the safety criteria of a structure because they are the point of entry and exit. In addition to being beneficial to health, gates also improve appearance. One can choose from a huge selection of sliding gate motors on the market and utilize them as a security point.

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startanewdream · 3 years

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Hyacinth

Summary: Sirius takes some time to fill his godfather duties — teaching Harry how to ride a motorbike.

Part of Eyes Glistening (Jily Lives AU). It ties with Hope, but you don't need to read it first to enjoy this moment between Harry and Sirius.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The street is quiet, a summer afternoon in which everyone must have decided it’s too hot to stay outside, but Sirius doesn’t breathe easily until he opens the small gate and then he is finally inside the Potter’s estate, safe under their love protection, though its days are almost over. He tries not to let this thought dismay him.

He walks towards the house, but he pauses, his attention diverted. Despite the heat, Harry is standing still near the broom shed, watching the sky thoughtfully, his hands inside the pocket of his jeans.

Alone and brooding, never a good sign.

He sighs, moving direction towards his godson. He has seen that quiet stubborn resolution on Harry’s face ever since he met him after Dumbledore’s funeral; it was a soldier’s face, a soldier with a duty that was hinted by Harry’s secret meetings with Dumbledore—the most secretive man Sirius had ever known—, and from all Sirius knows about Harry and James, that didn’t bid well.

He had a feeling Harry would leave. He was sure that James would hate it.

Sirius walks quietly, stopping a few steps behind Harry.

‘So, how it went?’

Harry jumps under the sound of his voice, turning around. Sirius holds back a frown; Harry shouldn’t be caught so off guard—he may be safe at the moment, but soon, in the real world, he will need better reactions and not trust anyone. This thought doesn’t comfort him.

‘What?’

‘You finally told James, didn’t you?’

Harry squints, uncomfortable. ‘Dad said anything you?’

‘No, I just needed to come by—I still have a few repairs to do in my motorbike.’

‘Oh.’ Harry’s gaze strays to the broom shed. ‘Don’t mind me.’

Sirius watches him for a few seconds before nodding. It’s still hot and he had planned to do this later, but he has a feeling that now it might be the best time—and he knows that pushing Harry to talk before he is ready never works. So he goes to take his motorbike, opting to work in the open instead of the broom shed. Harry hasn’t moved when he comes back, as Sirius imagined he wouldn’t, so Sirius just kneels to check the engine, careful to let the toolbox closer to Harry.

‘Pass me a screwdriver, will you?’ he asks Harry, not taking his gaze off the engine.

It’s been a while since he rode his motorbike, Sirius notes shamefully, so he needs to check if all the electrical parts of the motor are okay. It’s a tiresome job that he could ask a real mechanic to do, but he enjoys the manual work anyway, and Harry seems to relax some of his tension as he watches Sirius working, helping him whenever Sirius asks him—things that Sirius could do alone, but he understands that Harry likes to feel helpful.

‘I am leaving,’ Harry says quietly at some point, and Sirius takes care to not let any emotion show in his face.

‘I thought so,’ he says. All those meetings with Dumbledore seemed too much as some sort of passing the torch, though Sirius doubts that Dumbledore had planned for things to go sour so quickly. ‘When?’

‘As soon as I am of age.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

Harry is watching him, and Sirius knows he is just looking for some sort of disapproval—though he doesn’t know what Harry would do if he found it. That boy is Lily’s son too much not to be stubborn and he would go anyway. Well, Harry does like to suffer.

‘Dad is mad at me. I think… I think I’m letting him down somehow.’

And there is it, the reason why Harry was staring sadly at the sky, brooding under the sun as if it could atone for his sins somehow. He sees the apprehension in his godson’s green eyes, and Sirius is suddenly aware—though he shouldn’t be surprised—how apart from his eyes, Harry looks a lot like James.

‘You never disappoint James,’ Sirius tells him reasonably. ‘He is just too worried. You know him.’

‘I feel like… like if I leave him, he won’t ever understand. He’ll hate me for doing it.’

‘Hating you for doing the right thing? That can’t be.’

‘You didn’t see him. He said… he said if I cared, I wouldn’t leave anyone.’

‘Do you?’ Sirius asks softly. ‘Do you care?’

Harry looks at his house with a heavy sigh. ‘Too much.’

‘Then he will understand. You’ll be of age, Harry, and you’ve been making decisions—good even if questionable some times—for some time now.’

‘I just want… I want it over.’

‘That’s all we want.’ Sirius pauses for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re the only one who can do this?’

Harry doesn’t hesitate this time. ‘It has to be me. But I won’t be alone.’

‘Ron and Hermione?’ Sirius guesses, smiling a little when Harry nods. He is a firm believer that with friends by his side, Harry can do anything. ‘Ginny?’

Harry sighs. ‘No, we—I broke up with her.’

‘What?’ Sirius asks, confused, but the desolation in Harry’s face is enough to show him all he needs to do about this news. ‘For her own good?’

Harry kicks a stone in the ground, his head lowered. ‘I couldn’t put her in danger and… being near me is a hazard. It’s enough I’m already putting you and Mum and Dad in so much trouble—’

‘You know we would still be even if you didn’t exist, right? In fact, we joined the Order about two years before you were even born, kid.’

Harry shrugs, clearly not agreeing with him. Sirius rolls his eyes; Harry enjoys saving people too much not to feel guilty for anything that happens, even when is only remotely connected to it.

‘If you wanna blame someone, blame Voldemort, not you,’ Sirius says, and he stands up to finish a few protective spells on the motorbike.

As he casts them, blue light shining from his wand, it occurs to Sirius that Harry will need a quick course on Defensive Spells. He already knows quite a few, always having a knack for them, and Sirius is familiar with how much Harry loves his Expelliarmus—he supposes that a wandless enemy doesn’t provide much danger—, but Harry will need to improve his list if he is to be safe during whatever he will be doing.

He thinks of a few books he has at home that helped him in his early years of the Auror training, and he is sure that he can ask Moony to come and help them with training.

Away from James’ eyes, that’s it. Sirius enjoys not being hexed by his best friend.

But Harry’s birthday is still a few weeks away and, right now, Sirius doesn’t want to give Harry homework.

‘Why are you fixing your motorbike?’ Harry asks.

‘I got the feeling it might be useful. The Order has been discussing how to get you safely away from here, you know.’ Harry frowns heavily, so Sirius rushes to add in a teasing voice: ‘I thought of suggesting to hide you inside the trunk and be done with it. Death Eaters would never guess.’

Harry laughs. ‘I don’t think I’d fit.’

‘No, we’d need to transform you into something. Too bad you never felt an attraction to turn into an animagus, if you were a hedgehog it would be easier.’

‘Why a hedgehog?’

‘They are cute. And your hair does make you look like one.’

‘Hey!’ Harry’s indignation is cut by the grin on his lips. He runs his hand through his hair in a gesture that reminds Sirius of James more than ever. ‘It’s my charm.’

‘Oh, I’d have my doubts, but then Lily did marry and procreate with your father, so what do I know?’ Sirius tosses a helmet to Harry. ‘Here, put it on.’

‘To hide my hair?’

‘No, silly, because you need a helmet to ride.’

‘Ride?’

There is a bewildered expression on Harry’s face. Sirius smiles, more certain than ever of his idea. ‘Yeah, I've never taught you how to ride a motorbike, have I? Lousy godfather I am.’

‘You’re not,’ Harry says at once, distracted. He puts on the helmet. ‘Why didn’t you ever teach me before?’

‘Lily deemed too unsafe—a little hypocrite if you ask me, brooms are much more dangerous’

Harry doesn’t look as if he agrees on that one—that boy was way too influenced by James about brooms—but he seems excited enough.

‘Now what?’

‘Now pay attention. If you fall, your mother is gonna kill me.’

Harry looks amused with Sirius' concern.

Sirius shows him how to operate the motorbike, telling him to be careful with the brake and the acceleration and to not mix the gear shifter with them. Then he helps Harry get on the bike.

‘By the left side,’ he guides, and Harry looks somehow younger as he sits on the motorbike. Sirius had a sudden vision of himself holding a Harry who wasn’t even two yet as they flew through the night.

Merlin, the time has flown. Near seventeen already and ready to kick Voldemort's arse.

‘Keep your feet on the ground to get used to. Good?’ Harry nods. ‘Okay, now try to feel the clutch.’ After several minutes, in which Sirius makes Harry repeat over and over how every part works, he picks his key. ‘I’ll start the engine now, okay?’

Harry acquiesces; his eyes are shining, overjoyed. Sirius makes sure the bike is into neutral, then indicates the “start” button for Harry.

‘Slowly let the clutch out—keep your feet on the ground, it will give you more support.’

Harry nods once more, concentrated, his attention focused on releasing the clutch—and then his grip slips and the motorbike yanks forward too quickly. Sirius jumps to hold them.

‘Hey, hey, it happens!’ he says. Harry looks only sheepishly, not very much concerned for his health. Of course not, Sirius thinks. The boy is ready to face Voldemort, what’s a bike? ‘You stalled the engine because you let it go too fast. Try again.’

He does; this time his hand leaves the clutch in the right timing, and the motorbike wrenches him forward. Harry lets out a laugh—one of those carefree sounds that Sirius has been hearing less and less lately—at the same time as Sirius turns into a dog to chase him.

The Potter estate is vast, an enormous field that goes into the woods, and it takes several minutes until Harry finally steps on the brake, having made a huge round back to the broom shed. Sirius is glad and relieved to realize Harry remembered to use the brake over the throttle.

Sirius is out of breath—age comes with problems, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud—when he helps Harry down the kickstand so he can get off the bike. Harry immediately crashes into the ground, laying over the grass with a relaxed expression as he takes out his helmet.

‘This was so much fun!’ he admits. ‘Can I fly next time?’

‘One step at a time, kid. When you are good on the ground, we’ll try for the skies.’

‘Spoilsport,’ Harry complains without any real malice in his voice. ‘Thanks, Sirius.’

‘No problem, kid.’ Sirius sits next to him. ‘Just wanted to share Hyacinth with you.’

He lifts his eyebrows. ‘Hyacinth? Your bike has a name?’

‘All the good rides should have one. Don’t mock Hyacinth.’

Harry shakes his head, amusement all over his face as he closes his eyes. He puts his arms around his head for support, so Sirius does his godfather duty once more. He turns into Padfoot, laying next to Harry to offer him a good fluffy pillow.

#Sirius and Harry #Sirius Lives #Jily Lives AU #godfather/godson moment #I have no knowledge of bikes #so please assume that Sirius taught him off-screen #I wrote this as a comfort to me and I hope it gives you some too

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houseboatisland · 3 years

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I'm rather curious for your own takes on Thom Thom~✨💙

Edit credit to @/ComradeOpThomas from Twitter, this is my ideal Thomas!

(Season 5 Thomas is the best Thomas, I don’t make the rules)

I started this hoping for it not to become a whole biography, but it just kept pouring out of me, so here's a very, very long post indeed lol

Thomas is NOT an L.B.S.C.R. E2 Class. He’s actually a unique design born to the North Western Railway in its earliest days… and in remarkably sad circumstances.

When the Railway Executive Committee first took over in August 1914, they were repulsed at the state of the Sudrian railways. Here were several argumentative companies operating in isolation from one another, with geriatric engines and stock, and one of them hadn't even run a train or maintained its permanent way since the start of the century. A key agenda item of the R.E.C.'s was a continuous, efficient railway system to quickly move men and materiel to the Island's eastern coast were Ireland to side with Kaiser Bill against John Bull. The existing standard gauge railways would have to be more or less torn up and rebuilt from scratch, and several new miles of track laid in to make for a single fluid network.

This required, among other things, many new engines. Several came over the Channel as and when could be spared by the Mainland, but as it became increasingly clear that the war would not be over "by Christmas," this wasn't an ideal long-term solution. The R.E.C. was especially upset that it had to put so many of its tender engines onto construction trains when their strength could be better used on other work. Two tank engines off the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, No. 1 "Short" and No. 2 "Stumpy" were by now nearing fifty years old, and exhausted mechanically.

The R.E.C., out to keep costs down and use resources to the fullest, ordered the N.W.R. to scrap these two engines and use the best parts of each to create one new engine. Measurements were taken, plans were hastily drawn up, and Short and Stumpy were quietly cut up in January 1915. Several fittings were made new for what odds and ends neither engine could contribute a usable part. The resulting new engine was "Thomas," who was put to work fresh off the shop floor.

Thomas at this point became the N.W.R.’s No. 1 quite by accident. He was the first engine to be built at Crovan’s Gate, and the REC misinterpreted this on his builder’s plates as an intention by the N.W.R. TO make him No. 1. So when Thomas gained his number, the R.E.C. and the N.W.R. both assumed this was deliberate by one another. And it was just too much of a hassle and too unimportant to change, so No. 1 he stayed.

As for his name, Thomas is named after Thomas Reginald Payne, the North Western Railway's first Chief Mechanical Engineer. Payne had made Thomas' construction a reality, from drawing up his blueprints to supervising his piecing together. Payne, who was CME from 1914 to his death in 1951, never forgot this connection to "his" engine, and often wanted to be on the shop floor whenever Thomas was in for repairs.

Thomas’ “infancy” was in a word, harsh. He was working around the clock, surrounded by engines who came and went, and did little if any socializing. Foremen were ordering him about at every turn. His first friend ever was the new N.W.R. No. 2, Edward, the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway’s No. 5 and only tender engine, who knew his old crewmates were chopped up to make Thomas. Thankfully, Edward knew better than to let Thomas in on this, lest he give him some sort of existential crisis, and he made quick work of making himself a mentor to the little engine.

In these conditions, Thomas’ “cheeky” and anti-authoritarian streak took shape. His whole life thus far had been work and taking lumps from his superiors, most of whom were English and not Sudrian. This morphed into a disrespect for big engines, who wanted him to be their errand boy as construction work began to ebb and focus shifted to running trains. Ever the contrarian, Thomas only doubles down on his disrespect for tender engines when he finds out that that’s “the traditional order of things.” Edward is of course exempt from this attitude, but in his tensest moments Thomas can even lose patience with HIM momentarily.

The war finally ends. January 1919 sees the N.W.R. out to make an identity for itself as peacetime takes hold and Parliament quietly rumbles about Grouping or outright Nationalization. Thomas is the first engine to wear "Hatt Blue with Red Stripes," the company's planned standard livery. This isn't unique to him for long, however, and Thomas' new line of work from hereon is Station Pilot for Vicarstown. Needless to say this is upsetting to him. He's not moving up and down the Island like he was when building the railway. He's still rushed off his wheels. He's expected to be answerable to tender engines as he makes up their trains. Most importantly, he's still having as much difficulty as before to make time to make friends. This new job is in every respect everything Thomas could have wanted to avoid, and there's no telling if he'll ever even get out of it. January 1919 is thus where "Wants to See the World" Thomas begins.

Thomas still gets to see Edward regularly, and he is for a pinch joined by two other tank engines shunting at Vicarstown. They're also ex-Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, Nos. 3 and 4 "Edwin" and "Victor." Thomas befriends Victor, who is a friendly old joker, but dislikes Edwin who has become cranky in his old and as a 2-4-0T has a tendency to slip and not be of much help. They leave him too, in 1922, when The Fat Director relocates them to run other branchlines on the Island. So, 1922 onward, we meet Thomas as the sole pilot, thoroughly busy and thoroughly lonely.

This seems more or less canon, but The Fat Director probably sent Thomas to Wellsworth after his runaway with Edward's trucks in anticipation of giving him the Ffarquhar Branch once he was a matured engine. He didn't give Thomas the line just because he rescued James in fine style, that was really what made his mind up.

Thomas looks kindly enough on Henry as a big engine at this time, he and Edward as mentioned aren't necessarily the kinds of "Big Engines" he dislikes. He'll occasionally give him a tease or two, or lose patience with his health, (something he now deeply regrets years later,) but there's no real malice in it. Think of him as the little brother poking fun at his bigger brother for having one arm in a cast, but altogether still feeling sorry for him and accommodating him how he can. Henry for his part appreciates Thomas, but takes his teasing very seriously considering how sensitive and implicating it is to, you know, his whole existence.

My idea of Thomas' relationship with Gordon is heavily inspired by @/mean-scarlet-deceiver's: Thomas is initially awed by Gordon's arrival and finally confident the N.W.R. can survive, but quickly resents him when he shows his true colors as a "big engine" through and through. I wouldn't even call Gordon and Thomas "friendly" until their alliance at Toryreck Mine. From 1923 all the way up to then, depending on when you place it, they... legitimately dislike each other. There's no affection beneath all the ribbing and jibes, they ACTUALLY disliked each other that whole period of time.

I'm still hashing out my headcanon of 98462 and 87546, (just know that those aren't actually their numbers,) but it's safe to say Thomas hates their guts, and '62 and '46 hate his guts in return as a servant willing to speak up for himself.

Thomas and James were a couple from 1924 to 1933, when they broke up amid the Big Engine Strike. I'd really rather reserve this for a post of its own at a later date.

Thomas and Percy are good friends, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them "best friends" like the TVS has so often hammered in. They clearly come to blows whenever the tension's too much. I like to explain that away as a shift in Thomas' character. With him doing more passenger work as Percy and Toby handle the stone trains, and his increasing fame, Thomas begins looking down on Percy, not long after he transferred to Ffarquhar in 1955 in fact. This might also have to do with unresolved feelings between them both. (Hey, remember that little green engine you kissed once just to try it over twenty years ago? He's your roommate now, probably forever. Play nice!)

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