#mtat

[superthirstparty]

fuck man, spotify is making me nostalgic

IT'S IN YOUR EYES, UNDER YOUR SKIN, AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND, UP IN THE SKY, ON THE BLACKEST NIGHT, COME DOWN AND TAKE MY HAND

[pokemonshelterstories]

Just out of curiosity, what is the protocol for a Paradox Pokemon sighting? I assume call the rangers but is that it? Should I call Naranja-UVA to get miss Geeta or that kid with the massive Cyclizar?

I just worry about the rangers being sent out to handle something like a Paradox Pokemon considering the damage that Great Tusk did a while back in the Asado desert...

there hopefully shouldn't be any paradox pokemon leaving the crater at this point with researchers keeping track of them, but on the off chance that one does, yes- call the rangers. geeta is the top champion and therefore usually too busy to deal with an emergency situation, and absolutely don't send a child to handle a dangerous pokemon regardless of how good of a trainer they are.

the reason why rangers are the go-to for wild pokemon emergencies rather than elite trainers is because we're trained to handle wild pokemon in the least aggressive way possible. being a trainer is a totally different skillset, and it doesn't mean you're actually prepared to calm and relocate a vagrant pokemon! battling wild pokemon like that should be a last resort if there's no other way to prevent them from causing damage or injury.

there's also no need to worry about our safety, as only a properly prepared ranger would be sent out to handle a paradox pokemon. we have plenty of training and opportunities to prepare for situations like this; in fact, i spent a lot of time using the MTAT system developed in oblivia to practice before i went into the great crater! the MTAT allows rangers to do VR practice against any pokemon registered in its server, and that includes legendaries and paradox pokemon. we're well-equipped to handle pokemon emergencies, even intense ones like a paradox breakout.

[whumpsday]

Our Hell on Earth #1: Warm Welcome

Masterlist

content: demon whumper, demon caretaker/carewhumper, interrogation, torture, burns, defiant whumpee, caretaking, captivity

welcome to my next bigger series! it’s not gonna be nearly as long as K&J, but still way longer than my little miniseries. been having these guys in my head for years and MTAT finally gave me the push to put ‘em out there. hope you enjoy my new guys :)

@amonthofwhump​ March Trope-A-Thon Day 3: Spy/Military / Interrogation / Undercover Mission / Barracks/Training / Patching Up A Wound

Cedric flexed his fingers nervously, his wrists shackled directly to the arms of the chair. It was wooden, but a hard, sturdy wood: both uncomfortable to sit in for as long as he had been, and impossible to break, especially when he couldn’t gain any leverage. His head still pounded from where he’d gotten hit.

His ankles were similarly bolted to the chair’s legs, preventing him from anxiously bouncing his leg like he so wanted to, unable to see even an inch in front of his face in the pitch-dark of the windowless room he’d woken up in. He could hardly even tell if his eyes were open or closed.

He was so fucked this time.

It wasn’t like Cedric hadn’t gotten into some bad situations before, in his line of work. You didn’t exactly get into demon hunting if you held your life close to your chest, unwilling to risk it. But he’d imagined he might go out in the heat of combat, one and done. Not this.

There wasn’t much he could do but sit there. Infuriatingly, he could feel that his phone was still in his pocket, he just couldn’t fucking reach it.

He couldn’t be sure how long it had been when Cedric heard heavy footsteps in the distance somewhere behind him. Was the chair facing away from the door?

His suspicions were confirmed when the door opened with a click, finally letting light into the room. Cedric tried to turn his head and see, but the chair’s back was too high, and all he could see was dark wood. He looked forward instead, squinting in the dim light from the doorway.

It looked like an unfinished basement from what he could see, which wasn’t much, mainly just the wall. Anything of note in here was probably also behind the chair.

“Wakey, wakey,” came a deep, gravelly voice.

“I was already awake, asshole,” Cedric shot back immediately.

The low voice chuckled. “Oh, we’re going to have some fun together, aren’t we.”

His suspicions of being in a basement were confirmed when he heard the sound of the guy walking down stairs, slow and deliberate. The light flicked on, and Cedric had to squeeze his eyes shut, too bright after the total darkness.

As he slowly opened his eyes and eased them into the light, the guy came into view. It was apparent that he was a demon, which came as no shock. But he wasn’t the one Cedric had been fighting when he went down.

He was huge, for one. Seven feet easy, maybe more, which Cedric resented all the more at his cool five-three. The demon he’d been fighting had been maybe six-five tops, short for a demon, but quick. That was what did Cedric in: he was too damn slow.

Cedric glared up as his eyes adjusted. “Yeah, real fun. What do you want? Why am I still alive?”

The demon gave him an amused, condescending look, like Cedric was being silly. “Oh, not much. Just answer some questions for me and you’ll be on your merry way.”

“Uh, why would I wanna answer your questions if you’re just gonna kill me after?” Cedric scoffed.

The demon grinned, row of razor-sharp teeth gleaming. “We’ll get there.”

His eyes travelled lower, down to Cedric’s pocket. “Looks like Lack’s been slacking in his duties again, I should have already had this in my hand. Tsk-tsk. Going to have to give him a reminder to be diligent.” The demon reached down into Cedric’s pocket with a clawed hand.

“Hey! Don’t touch!” Cedric shouted, but the demon paid no mind, taking the phone out and carefully tapping the relatively-tiny screen.

He turned it around. “That makes for a good first question. What’s the password?”

Cedric took a moment to be thankful that he never used any of that stupid biometric crap on his phone.

Then he spit in the demon’s face. Well, he tried, but trajectory landed it on his chest. Close enough.

The demon gave that condescending smile again as he wiped it away. Cedric was beginning to hate that smile.

“Forgot to introduce myself. I am Drive,” the demon said, leaning forward. “And I have a lot of it. Here is how this is going to work. You give me the information I’m looking for- base location, names and locations of fellow hunters, the key to your phone- and the pain stops.” Drive reached forward and patted him on the cheek. “Understand, little one?”

“Gah!” Cedric pulled away as much as he could given his restraints, which wasn’t much. “Might as well give up. I’m not telling you shit.”

The words coming out of his mouth scared him more than Drive’s threat. If the demon gave up... he would kill him. Cedric knew that.

But he would rather die than rat everyone out. He couldn’t. He’d rather be tortured to death than know they were hurt because of him.

He knew that was no longer a hypothetical.

Drive grinned. “You’ll find I don’t do that easily.”

He snapped his fingers, a small flame coming to life at his fingertip.

Cedric’s breath caught in his throat. But he had to be strong, he had to. The other option was just unthinkable.

“Hmmm...” Drive contemplated, looking him up and down. “How about we start with that pretty face?” he sneered.

“Don’t fucking call me pretty,” Cedric growled.

Drive rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. No one will after I’m done with you.”

He grabbed Cedric by the hair with his free hand, holding his head in place and bringing the flame close with the other. “Last chance before we get started.”

Cedric could feel the heat from the flame, just barely kept from licking at his face. “Go fuck yourself.”

Drive laughed, wordlessly bringing his finger to Cedric’s cheek. He gasped as his face came alive with pain, increasing exponentially as the fire was held there. He tried to pull away, but it was a hopeless endeavor: the demon’s grip was iron-tight.

He couldn’t help but cry, the tears rolling down his cheeks doing nothing to quell the flame. His breaths came quick with panic, and he bit his tongue hard to hold back a scream, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. It felt like the flame was boring a hole straight through his face, the nerves there screaming at him to get away.

Drive held him there for a few minutes before sliding his finger down just slightly, moving the flame onto fresh skin to start all over again. Cedric let out a strangled cry of pain despite himself, chest heaving.

The demon tugged on his hair to tilt his head even further into the fire. “We can start slow. One piece of information and we’ll call it enough for the first day.”

“No,” Cedric squeaked, hating the way his voice pitched up like that when he was afraid.

“Then we’re going to be here a while. You’d better get comfortable.”

-

It was hours later when Drive finally decided to call it quits, extinguishing the flame. Cedric’s breathing was ragged by this point, half his face a mess of meticulously burnt flesh from just below his eye all the way down to his jawline, the other half a mess of sweat and tears. When the demon let go of his hair, he slumped forward, shaking.

“You know most humans don’t make it past the first day?” Drive commented casually.

Cedric didn’t have a biting remark to that.

“I’ll leave you to calm down. My assistant will be down in a bit to clean you up.” Drive smirked. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, the demon sauntered back up the stairs, flicking the lights off and the door closed to leave Cedric in total darkness.

He let himself cry unabashedly now, pathetic little sobs that sent his shoulders bobbing up and down instead of strong, mostly-silent tears.

What was he going to do? He wasn’t alone when he got taken, so at least they knew he wasn’t just killed outright. They’d be looking for him. But would they actually be able to find him? He had no idea where he was. He might not even be on Earth anymore, they could have taken him through a portal. There’d be no chance of rescue if he was in Hell.

But the air was clean. It smelled disgustingly of his own burnt flesh, but it didn’t stink of sulfur. He’d never been to Hell, but he’d heard that about it. So he was probably still on Earth.

Someone would come for him. He had to believe that. Maybe they could track his phone, though Drive had taken it with him. He hoped that wherever he was, there was cell signal here.

The door opened again, and Cedric’s head snapped up with panic at the sound before he remembered what Drive had said. His assistant.

The lights flickered back on, the footsteps coming down this time lighter, confident. The demon who came into view was maybe the first Cedric had seen who probably wasn’t over a foot taller than him. He looked maybe six-one, if he had to guess. He sported a black eye and held a bucket full of various supplies, the handle resting on the inside of his elbow, his expression sour.

“Ouch,” he commented, giving Cedric a once-over.

“Yeah.” His voice came out more broken than he would like. “Ouch.”

“Here’s the deal,” the demon stated, putting his bucket down. “I’m not here to get information out of you. That’s Drive’s job, not mine. If you decide you want to talk, wait for him. I’m just here to make sure you don’t die while he does what he does.”

He took a plastic cup out of the bucket and left Cedric’s line of sight, the sound of a tap running soon following. When he came back, he shoved it in front of Cedric’s face. “Drink.”

He was more than glad to, the water amazing on his parched throat. The demon tipped the cup further as he drank, until it was all gone.

The demon pulled a tube of burn cream out of the bucket, squirting some on his fingers. “Hold still.” He reached for Cedric’s face.

Cedric jerked his head away, on instinct more than anything else. He knew it would probably be good to get treatment, but the thought of anyone touching his face right now, even the demons’ medic, was unthinkable.

The demon sighed, obviously annoyed. “It’s not going to hurt any more than it already does. Like I said, not my job. Hold still.”

“F-fine.” Cedric held still this time as the demon smeared the gel over his burn, the sensation cool on his abused skin. “Are you Lack?” he asked, remembering what Drive had said earlier.

“Yep.” The demon dabbed carefully under Cedric’s eye.

“Is it ‘cause you’re the lackey?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his situation.

Lack gave him an exasperated, deadpan look. “No.”

He replaced the burn cream in the bucket, pulling out some gauze and cling wrap and applying that over the wound. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

“Nah, that’s it.” Cedric flexed his fingers again, the height of motion he was really allowed.

Lack nodded, pulling a sandwich out of the bucket. It was wrapped in plastic and still had the barcode sticker on it. “I’m betting you want me to hand-feed you about as little as I want to do it. If I let your hands free, are you going to try and pull anything?”

Cedric would kill to be able to actually move for a moment. “No.”

Lack produced a key, inserting it into the shackles bolting his wrists to the chair and opening them one by one. Cedric stretched his arms up, relieved to be able to do at least that, even if his face still felt like it was on fire. He grabbed the sandwich from Lack, unwrapped it, and took a bite.

“Can I get more water?” he asked.

Lack eyed his still-shackled ankles for a moment, then conceded. “Sure, that’s fine.” He left to go refill the cup, taking the key with him.

Cedric leaned forward as much as he could, trying to reach for the bucket and see if there was anything useful in there, but it was a good foot and a half out of his reach. He quickly abandoned his effort before Lack could see.

Lack came back with a full cup of water, setting it on the chair’s armrest. “Do you take any critical medications?”

He doubted the demon would consider it critical, and he had bigger things to worry about right now. “Nope.”

“Good. That shit’s apparently annoying to get, and then they get mad at me for requesting it. Like they wouldn’t be even more pissed off if you died in the chair because I didn’t. Idiots.” Lack kicked the ground with irritation.

So Lack didn’t like his boss. Maybe Cedric could use that, somehow, but he wasn’t sure how yet. After he finished his sandwich and the rest of the water, Lack took the key back out. “I’m going to let you out of the chair so you can use the bathroom. Don’t try anything, because if you do, I’m going to have to watch you, and neither of us wants that. Drive’s right upstairs, you’re not escaping.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t. Sheesh.” The concept of running into Drive again made him feel almost ill.

Lack unlocked the last of his restraints, and Cedric did a full-body stretch when he stood up. Being locked into that chair for hours wasn’t nearly as bad as his burns, but it still took a toll. He turned around, finally able to see the rest of the basement.

His eyes immediately fell on a table pushed against the wall, terrifying instruments sat neatly-organized across it. Knives of all shapes and sizes and serrations, pliers, saws, a drill, a hammer and nails, and more. His stomach turned at the sight, knowing that it was likely meant for him.

He turned away, following Lack to the small bathroom on the opposite side of the basement. “Five minutes.”

Cedric nodded, throat choked up with nerves, and closed himself in the bathroom. There was no lock on the door. Even if there was, Lack could probably break the door down easily, and Drive definitely could. There was no window. Nowhere to run.

He stayed in the bathroom well after he’d finished washing his hands, letting the tap run until Lack knocked on the door. “Time’s up. Come on out.”

Knowing he didn’t really have any other choice, Cedric turned the tap off and opened the door. “You gonna put me back in the chair?”

“I’ll be back in six hours with more food and water,” Lack said by way of answer.

Cedric hesitated, staring reluctantly at the chair.

“Sit in the chair,” Lack insisted. “If it’s going to be a fight every time I let you up, I’ll have to figure out something that doesn’t involve letting you up. This is easier for both of us, so let’s just stick with this.”

“I gotta sleep in that thing? I don’t even get to lie on the floor?” Cedric whined.

Lack looked from his miserable face to the chair and back. “...I’ll see about getting you a pillow.”

He figured that was about as good as he was gonna get it. Cedric stalked back over to the chair and slumped down in it, too exhausted from his ordeal to try and fight.

“Thank you.” Lack locked his wrists and ankles back in.

-

taglist:

@a-crumb-of-whump

@banditosong

@interdimensional-chaos​

@kixngiggles​

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@pigeonwhumps

@whump-amine​

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@whumpthisway

@whumpwillow

@whumpycries

@whumpzone

@zillastar13

[tticctoby]

if i ever jsut post reandom letters lmow that its mtat im a nbad speller and i do have tics irls. o if id ot at then pe boliet

[pawoot]

ประชุมคณะทำงาน เตรียมก่อตั้ง สมาคม Martech ของประเทศไทย หรือ Martech Association of Thailand (MTAT) วันนี้คณะย่อยคุยเรื่อง (ร่าง) ข้อบังคับสมาคมฯ (ใช้โครงของสมาคม E-Commerce มาปรับให้ทันสมัยขึ้น) และเตรียมการจัดตั้งสมาคม, ประชุมสามัญ และเลือกตั้ง กรรมการและนายกสมาคมฯ บริษัทด้าน Digital & Martech ไหนสนใจ เตรียมตัวสมัครเป็นสมาชิกสมาคมได้เลย และหากอยากสมัครลงเลือกตั้งเป็น กรรมการหรือนายกสมาคมฯ เตรียมตัวได้เลยครับ ช่วงมกราคม ปีหน้าครับ ขอบคุณ คุณอนันต์ และทีม Data First ที่ดูแลอย่างดีครับ ดูบรรยากาศการประชุมการเตรียมสมาคมฯ ครั้งนี้ได้ที่นี่ครับ https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1330420134443011&id=648712177&sfnsn=mo&mibextid=RUbZ1f (at Data First) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClOcSaSPntk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[yesiplaygamez]

[isthereanybodyquoting]

"Call me devil and no longer lover."

- More Than A Thousand, Heist

[navylawyer]

Melayan kunjungan hormat bakal2 Panglima TLDM.....simpan dulu sini utk digunakan di masa hadapan wakakakaka #kamimi #navylawyer #cohort48 #mtat #gengbudakjahat #covıd19 #instagood (at Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_EqqsYDOk4HE_BBIgdii8BD8mvuq-KayuFDqY0/?igshid=1b2spdlnroe7

[cutieodonoghue]

more than all the stars (epilogue)

summary: In a world full of soulmates, Emma Nolan doesn’t know who hers is. Enter Killian Jones, attempting to stop his brother from proposing to his soulmate, only to be thrown a curveball when he’s sent to spend Christmas on a farm with a bunch of strangers. (soulmate modern au)

rating: k+ (mild language, suggestive situations later on)

word count: ~5,900

catch up: read it all on tumblr here

also find on: ff.net, ao3

an: Here it is! The very very end! I am so thankful for all of you readers! You’ve made this last story one to remember with your kind words and encouragement. I hope you enjoy this overly fluffy epilogue as final closure to this sweet little verse.

I know it’s been super fast updating so it’s all done now and safe to binge for those who have been waiting it all out! haha

I love you all more than all the stars in the sky <3

epilogue

SIX MONTHS LATER

One of the best parts of the year is summer, where the sun sets later, the air is warm, and the stars shine their brightest. It’s made even better this year because Killian has a boat that they take out on the weekends.

 Emma sits on the porch steps of the farmhouse with Killian at her side one summer night while they watch Henry run around with Wilby in the grass in front of them.

 He’s two now, and with the age comes exploration of all sorts, keeping them on the edge at all times. She can hardly believe how fast he’s growing.

The sun hasn’t quite set yet, providing the scene a warm glow, made even warmer when Emma leans her head against Killian’s shoulder and wraps her hand around his well-toned arm.

 Killian turns slightly to kiss her head and she smiles softly because of the tenderness of the moment all collaborating in her chest to provide just the perfect feeling.

 It’s been a long six months since they decided to make a serious go at a relationship. Grueling, difficult, but exciting and beautiful just the same.

 Having barely known him when they decided to jump headfirst into this, it wasn’t as if she could immediately fall into his arms and believe that they’d be alright.

 He was gone a lot the first few weeks dealing with the business and getting things settled so he could work from here, and when he finally came to her again, she was afraid that they were fooling themselves. She pushed him away, but he came back time and again, relentlessly pursuing her in spite of the fear both of them feel.

 She’s proud of how far they’ve come in six months, though. Proud that she gets to have him and claim him as her own. Proud of the father he’s become for Henry. Proud of how hard he works to provide for them.

 “Do you want to go stargazing tonight?” he asks lowly. “Just the two of us?”

 Emma hums. It’s well overdue, and after a day like she’s had, she’s desperate for time away from the farmhouse.

 “Sure.”

 He kisses her head again and she gives her attention to her son, who slows down and plops down in the middle of the grass. Wilby, confused, pushes him with his nose.

 “Looks like he’s crashed.” Emma chuckles.

 “Dada,” Henry cries out.

 Killian sighs and Emma removes her hands from his arm as he says, “That’s my cue.”

 He hoists himself up off of the porch and she watches with a full heart as he moves toward the small boy.

 “You tired, buddy?” Killian asks. Henry holds his arms up in the air but makes no move to do more than that, so Killian has to squat down to grab him. He kisses Henry’s cheek. “Alright. Let’s get you inside then, my boy.”

 Emma stands up and watches them walk toward her, smiling softly. Wilby comes rushing up the steps first, followed by her boys. She opens the screen door leading inside, where her mother works diligently in the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

 “He all tired out?” she asks.

 “Mm,” Killian brushes a kiss against Henry’s forehead. “Say goodnight to Grandma, Henry.”

 Henry refuses to say anything, instead remaining firmly curled into him as if his life depends on it.

 Emma laughs softly. “Come on. Upstairs.”

 Together, they get Henry ready for bed, something Killian has become the complete master of.  The routine consists of a bath, which Henry usually likes a little too much but not tonight, followed by cuddles in bed as one of them reads him to sleep.

 Tonight, Killian sits at the foot of the bed with Wilby as Emma holds her son in her arms and flips through the pages of one of his favorite books. Henry dozes off fast tonight, tired from running around and playing with Wilby, which makes tucking him into bed easy too.

 Emma switches off the lights and turns to Killian, smiling a little. “You ready?”

 He flashes her a bright smile in return. “Aye. More than.”

 It really is the perfect night. Warm air, cool breeze, and the stars beginning to shine against the dark sky.

 They often go stargazing after dinner, sometimes with Henry in tow if he’s still wide awake and won’t fall asleep. It’s one of her favorite things to do with Killian, because he’s a total astronomy nerd.

 She holds his hand as they walk toward the pickup truck. She catches him looking at her and rolls her eyes, smiling as she asks, “What?”

 “You’re pretty.”

 No matter how serious they’ve gotten, or how long they’ve been together, it still makes her heart skip a beat when he does this kind of thing.

 Killian drives up past the house, through the path they’ve created driving out to what he claims is the best spot on the farm for stargazing, and as soon as they arrive, she climbs out of the truck before he can catch up with her.

 “It’s a lovely night for stargazing, isn’t it?” he asks, tilting his head back to look at the sky.

 He grabs a lantern from the truck bed so they’ll be able to see each other and flicks it on while Emma puts out the blanket.

 Emma flashes him an honest, slightly tired, smile. “Yeah.”

 Together, they lie down side-by-side, their hands entwined while they stare at the stars.

 She knows without even looking or thinking that they’re lying with their marks facing each other, like they always do without thought. She wonders if it’s something all soulmates do, or if it’s just a funny coincidence.

 “Where are our stars?” Emma asks. She turns her head to look at him and he chuckles.

 “Ah… they’re…” Killian searches the sky for a few seconds and then points, tracing the outline of the Cygnus. “Right here.” A slow smile spreads on his face. “Here we are.”

 Emma hums happily after she follows the pattern he makes with his fingers.

 Even though she stares at the stars, she thinks about him. He’s far, far more than she could’ve ever dreamed. It’s wonderful in just about every way. He challenges her, and she likes to think she challenges him too.

 It took a while for him to convince her to allow him to stay at the house, but after a few nights in the spring where she was sick with a flu while her parents were away for the weekend, she caved completely.

 She remembers how completely heroic he was staying up all night with her as if it were yesterday, holding her hair back and feeding her even when she didn’t want to eat.

 He’d had to watch Henry, too, something that she thinks must have brought them close. The entire night had been misery, but he made it better by just being there. She knew she loved him then, but had waited a lot longer to admit it.

 “What did you do today?” Emma asks, turning to look at him under the dim glow of their lantern light.

 He sighs. “Woke up very early.”

 She hums a laugh. “Yes. You definitely did.”

 When his alarm went off, she may have attempted to entice him to stay in bed by curling her leg over his, but she also may have fallen asleep before she could do any further enticing.

 “I helped your father in the barn,” Killian says, lifting their joined hands briefly, “then I went into town and worked on the shop. Called Liam. He’s told me he’s coming home soon.”

 “Oh, good,” Emma murmurs.

 She hasn’t heard from Elsa in a few days, probably because her time there is winding to an end and they have a lot of things they need to finalize.

 Killian smiles. “Aye. Hopefully when he’s back, we can get the shop opened up here.”

 He and his father have a mending relationship. Some days it’s good, but some days she listens to him vent for an hour about another ridiculous thing he said or did. Regardless, he’s been the most helpful in Killian’s plans of opening a shop in Storybrooke.

 Once or twice, he’s come into town just to see how things were going. She was able to meet him then, properly, and get a good feel for who he is. He seems interested in being in their lives moving forward, so she’s willing to put effort in with him, too.

 “What have you done today?” Killian asks after a few minutes lying there in silence.

 “I spent the whole day working on the mural,” Emma sighs heavily. “Whose idea was it to do this in the summer, again?”

 Killian laughs. Emma presses her hand over her eyes, and arches her back slightly as she stretches her muscles. She’s completely exhausted, as she is pretty much nightly lately.

 Mayor Mills had commissioned her to paint a mural on the wall beside the diner against the patio after seeing some of her work hanging up in the shop.

 It’s been about a month since she was given the task. Weeks of planning from sketches and mockups and canvases must have driven Killian up the wall, especially when it came time to choose colors for each figure in the mural. But he’s always supported her, no matter what he really thinks.

 “It’s incredible,” Killian tells her honestly, turning onto his side. He releases her hand after she turns toward him and settles his palm instead on her hip as he slides closer to her.

 Emma pulls her hand off of her face and smiles weakly at him. “It’s not even done.”

 “Darling, it’s going to be bloody magnificent when it’s done, but for now, it’s just incredible.”

 She laughs through her nose and with a slightly scratchy voice, she says, “Thanks, Killian.”

 “Everything you do is wonderful, Emma.”

 Leaning his forehead against hers, he breathes her in deeply. She curls her fingers inward gently and presses her hands against his chest. There’s something so special about being with him, the one she was made for, beneath the stars.

 After a few seconds lying like this, Killian clears his throat softly and leans away. He smiles at her. “Hey. I have… I’ve got something to talk to you about.”

 Emma frowns curiously as he shifts so he’s sitting upright. She follows his lead and sits up beside him.

 “Is it bad?”

 “No, no,” he shakes his head, laughing a little. “I mean, I hope not.”

 He takes a steadying breath. “Emma, I love you,” he says, “I spent a lot of my life without believing I could ever have a love like this, but when I met you, everything changed.”

 Realization hits her in a wave. He’s proposing.

 It isn’t as if she hadn’t seen this coming. Of course she has. They’re soulmates. They’re in love. But she’s surprised anyway, and she can hardly keep herself from containing the emotion that rises up inside of her.

 It’s so right. Being with him is so, so right.

 Emma smiles softly at him as he continues, “I know that we’re not perfect, and that there are things you’re still afraid of- I’m afraid of them too.” Her heart skips a heavy beat as tears well up in her eyes. “But there’s one thing that I want you to be certain of.”

 Bravely, he reaches into his pocket and removes a ring, confirming her suspicions and making her lower lip wobble. She keeps her eyes on him, wanting to hear the rest of what he has to say because this is a moment she never wants to forget.

 “I will always, always be by your side.” Killian promises, holding her watery gaze tight. “So, Emma Nolan, what do you say? Will you marry me?”

 She smiles wider and nods quickly. “Yes.”

 With a breath of relief, he takes her left hand and presses the ring down past her knuckle. Looking back up, he laughs breathlessly with her, and she eagerly grabs his face for a kiss.

 She presses her nose against his when they’re through, both of them out of breath in the best way.

 Her fingers curl at the nape of his neck and she whispers, “I love you more than all the stars in the sky, Killian Jones.”

 “And I, you.”

 ///

 Maybe the second best thing about the summer are the nights spent sitting out by the fire pit with the smoke giving the air a rich smell.

 Her parents like to sit opposite she and Killian on nights like these, after they’ve had dinner on the porch and Henry’s getting just a little sleepy. Her son rests in his grandfather’s arms, resting his cheek against his shoulder while he keeps a watchful eye on the crackling flame.

 Wilby sits on the ground beside Emma, his tail moving slowly back and forth as he takes a much-needed break from all of the excitement of the day.

 Emma, meanwhile, rests her head against Killian’s shoulder while he wraps an arm around her and holds her tight.

 Their engagement is still very much a blissful secret, something she’s delighted in for a little over a week now. She hadn’t wanted to tell her family because of the simple fact that they’re still living with them, knowing full well that her father will insist on them moving out the moment they make their announcement.

 “So, I have some news,” Killian says, shifting uncomfortably. “Ah… Emma and I, actually.”

 Her mother’s once quiet stare turns surprised and bright. “Oh?”

 Killian looks at Emma and she gives him a cautious look. He just smiles back at her as if everything has never been more right.

 “We’re engaged.” Killian says with a warm inflection to his tone, as warm as the fire that flickers between them and her parents.

 Emma smiles back at him and closes her eyes when he kisses her forehead. They turn back to her parents together and Emma holds up her left hand to show off the ring.

 “Oh!” her mother gasps. “Emma! Killian!” She smiles wobbily and clasps her hands together over her chest. “Engaged!”

 Emma laughs. “Yes. I know, it’s only been six months, but…” She looks up at her fiancé and searches his eyes. “It’s right.”

 He nods. “Aye. It most certainly is.”

 “That’s amazing!” her father beams at them. “I’m so happy for you both.”

 Emma’s mother comes over to them, effectively separating them while she embraces Killian and then Emma. She looks into Emma’s eyes after and she sees that they’ve become glassy with tears.

 “What did I tell you?”

 Emma shakes her head minutely. “You were right.”

 Her heart so full, Emma pulls her mother in for a tighter hug. She shuts her eyes and fills her lungs twice before letting go.

 “So we have a wedding to plan!” her mother says, setting herself back down across from them. “Do you want to have it anywhere special?”

 Emma takes Killian’s hand and sucks in a heavy breath. “Actually, I was kind of thinking we’d do it here. On the farm. Where we fell in love.”

 Killian applies pressure to her hand and she looks up at him with a smile. He smiles in turn, a gentle thing. “That sounds perfect, to be honest.”

 “Done and done,” her father says proudly. “We can have the reception in front of the house and the wedding itself out by those trees you like so much.”

 “I should see if I still have my wedding dress,” her mother says thoughtfully, “I think it’s in storage, but you’d look beautiful in it, Emma.”

 Her chest swells with happiness. “Yeah, okay.”

 She had not thought this would be the way things would go upon telling her parents about their engagement, but it makes her happy, because she knows they don’t disapprove of her relationship with Killian.

 “This morning on my way into town, I noticed a for sale sign on the land beside ours,” her father casually mentions, “it’s got a little farmhouse on it. I think the barn burned down a while back, but it’s a nice place.”

 And here it is, Emma thinks. She looks at Killian, who lifts his eyebrows at her father.

 “Oh, yeah? Hm.” He turns his attention to her. “Do you have any interest in owning a farm with me, Emma?”

 She laughs, closing her eyes as she punches his side playfully. “Only if you build me a barn so we can have animals.”

 “Deal.” Killian says with all seriousness.

 Emma tilts her head to the side. “Really?”

 “Well, we’re already pushing it living here,” Killian shrugs, “Henry should really have his own bedroom.”

 What he doesn’t say is that they should have their own, but he certainly tells her with the way his lips part and he drags his tongue against his lower lip.

 “You’re right,” Emma nods. “We should go take a look.”

 “Gold’s selling the property,” her father says, hoisting himself up out of his chair with a now sleeping boy in his arms. “He’ll probably give you a hassle, but if you remind him that he owes me for two summers ago, he might lessen up.”

 Emma narrows her eyes. “What happened two summers ago?”

 Her father gives them a wry look. “Nothing. It’s a really good story, but I have to put my grandson to bed. Put the fire out when you’re coming inside for the night.”

 She looks to her mother, who stands and grabs the blanket that she’d had on her lap before following her father.

 “I’m so happy for you,” she says giddily as she passes them by. “Congratulations again.”

 “Thanks.”

 ///

 As Emma prepares for bed, she ponders wedding details and comes to the horrible conclusion that if she wants to get married in the summer, either they’ll have to wait a year, or do it within the next few months.

 It’s not that she wants to rush it, but getting married sooner rather than later has its benefits, like not having to wait and being allowed the gift of calling her soulmate her husband within the next few weeks or months.

 She brushes her teeth and flosses, something she’s picked up since Killian’s started living with her. He insists that it’s crucial to dental hygiene and he’s always asking if she does it, so to appease his desire that she floss, she does, and in return, he makes the bed and folds their laundry.

 It’s basically like they are married, she muses after tossing the floss. She examines her teeth briefly and then sighs, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

 Tomorrow will be another long day at the mural.

 It’s almost finished, but she’s a perfectionist where it comes to this sort of thing, so she’ll probably take three more days to get it all the way done. Mayor Mills has been breathing down her neck about it, worried that it won’t be done in time for the big Summer Festival.

 Emma’s tank top rides upward after she leans down to collect her discarded clothes and she catches a brief glance at the bottom of her collection of unique spots.

 On a tiny smile, she decides to peel it back all the way so she can see it again.

 It’s identical to Killian’s. Sometimes, they lie together side-by-side, and press their spots together just to confirm that they’re indeed matches. She can remember the first time they did it vividly, because she couldn’t stop giggling and Killian was so gentle when he touched her side, as if she’d break.

 There’s a gentle tap against the bathroom door before it inches open and he steps inside. It’s too small for both of them, something they’d decided a long while ago, but she doesn’t mind it right now, because she’s thinking so fondly about him that she practically misses him.

 “Well, hello,” he murmurs lowly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

 He lifts his eyebrow at the sight of her exposed skin and his lips curl in a devilish smirk while he slides his palm against her side over her mark. His lips press against hers in an open-mouthed kiss and she sighs shakily when he moves his lips against her cheek down toward her ear.

 “Killian,” she sighs, “Henry is asleep in the next room.”

 His teeth nibble against her flesh and tug at her earlobe.

 “Some nights I curse this living situation,” he laments while resting his nose against her neck.

 Emma reaches behind his head and runs her fingers through his hair. She feels butterflies swell in her belly at his words and she hums.

 “We definitely need a house before we get married.”

 Killian hums. “We’ll look tomorrow.”

 She shakes her head. “Can’t tomorrow. Busy painting.”

 He kisses her jawline back to her lips, giving her a lingering moment of bliss before he pulls back.

 “We’ll look tomorrow,” he says again. “I don’t care if it’s thirty minutes of your lunch and you’re eating. We’re getting out of here because we’re not living here any longer than necessary.”

 Emma laughs and nods. “Okay. Let’s look tomorrow.” Nibbling on her lower lip, she lifts her eyebrow hesitantly, “How do you feel about getting married in September?”

 “This September?” he asks. She nods once. A smile spreads on his face. “Yeah. Let’s do it. September. The farm. Henry in a little bow tie.”

 She gets giddy at the thought. “And you and me slow dancing under the stars.”

 “Mm. The more I think about it, actually…” he moves in closer to her, all dark eyes and smolder. “Tomorrow I’m free.”

 She laughs. “You’re free, but I’m busy buying a house tomorrow.”

 “Oh, so you think we’ll find something.” Killian teases brightly.

 “Well, you’re determined.” Emma shrugs. “And when you’re determined, you get what you want.”

 He sighs, “I did get you.”

 With a softening gaze, she stares at him lovingly. “That you did.”

 ///

 She’s covered with paint spots and standing back to look at the mural as it is currently when Killian wraps his arms around her from behind, effectively startling her so she squeaks aloud.

 “Hey, beautiful.”

 Emma turns around to face him and smacks his chest. “You’re the worst.”

 “I am?” he asks, aghast. He looks down at Henry, who stands beside him. “Mummy thinks I’m the worst, lad.”

 Henry scrunches his nose up. “No!”

 Emma laughs softly, but eyes her fiancé. “What’s going on?”

 Killian taps his wrist. “We’re going to visit a property or two. Henry’s hungry, though, so…”

 “Right,” Emma nods. She squats down and holds out her arms. “C’mere, kiddo. You want a grilled cheese?”

 Henry nods and eagerly jumps into her arms. She stands upright again and turns to look at her handiwork. “What do you think, Henry? Is it good? It’s not done yet, but it will be soon.”

 Henry points his fingers at it and says, “Pwetty.”

 Emma hums. She kisses his cheek. “You’ve been talking to Daddy about it, haven’t you?”

 Meeting Killian’s eyes, he smirks back at her. “What? I think the boy just clearly has an eye for good art.”

 She nods. “Right.”

 Together, they go into the diner and order their food to-go at Killian’s urging. Apparently, they’re supposed to meet with the property owner of the place beside her parents’ within the next half hour.

 After climbing into Killian’s truck, Emma helps Henry with his food and then has a few onion rings.

 The path they take is the usual drive home, only when Killian reaches the farm gate, he keeps going. After a short distance, they come upon a for sale sign, and he takes a turn up a road she hasn’t driven before.

 It’s wooded, a treeline that she recognizes from the perimeter of her parents’ land, but the woods soon give way and reveal a generous and beautiful acreage. But in the middle of it all, the centerpiece, is a cute little house with big windows and a wrap-around porch.

 Emma sees a familiar car parked in the driveway, and a man stands outside, holding onto his cane while he faces the home.

 “Wow,” Emma says. “This is a lot of land.”

 “Aye,” Killian agrees, leaning forward to see more. He pulls the truck into a makeshift spot beside Gold’s car and stops the engine. He turns back to look at them. “You ready, love?”

 Emma smiles softly and sticks the rest of her food in the bag. She helps Henry out of his carseat and allows him to keep eating while she carries him outside.

 It’s even prettier than she’d thought staring at it from up close. The color of the house is a very soft yellow, with white trim, and the windows are all tall and wide, allowing sunlight to pour inside.

 She can imagine a little garden along the side. Maybe a bed of flowers in the front to welcome visitors.

 “Mr. Gold, thank you for meeting us,” Killian says in greeting.

 The man turns to them with a smile. “Mr. Jones. Ms. Nolan. I worried you would forget.”

 “No, no,” Killian assures him. “We’re in dire need of a place to live. Can we get a look inside? It’s gorgeous out here.”

 “Of course.” Gold says, nodding his head. He steps away from his vehicle and walks up the steps of the porch. Killian and Emma follow suit. “The house was built in the eighties, but it’s been kept up to date. You’ll notice newer appliances and the like. I’ll let you take a peek without me hovering around you. If you’ve got questions, let me know.”

 “Thanks so much.” Killian smiles back at the man.

 Emma flashes him a soft grin before following her fiancé into the home.

 It’s every bit as beautiful as she imagined it would be.

 The entryway is big enough for space for a little cubby storage system for them to keep their shoes and coats. She can practically feel them living here already and they’ve barely set foot in the place.

 It gives way to a staircase at the end and rooms to either side as they step inward. There’s an open air kitchen and dining area off of the living room, while on the opposite side of the house, a den is enclosed by white french doors.

 “This could be my home office,” Killian suggests offhandedly. “Or yours.”

 “We could share.” Emma teases.

 They both laugh and keep their spirits high as they climb up the stairs.

 Everywhere she looks, she can see a possibility for them living here. They could hang pictures on the walls and she could mark Henry’s heights as he grows older on one of the bathroom doorways.

 All of the bedrooms are upstairs- all four of them.

 “What would we do with four bedrooms?” Emma asks. “Two for guests?”

 Killian lifts a playful eyebrow. “Well, with our own bedroom and married life upon us, I think there’s a distinct possibility for children, don’t you?”

 She feels a blush in her cheeks, silly as it is, thinking that they’ll get to experience having children together and letting them grow here.

 Maybe the best part is their master bedroom, because it’s at least twice the size of the room they’re sleeping in at her parents house, and there’s plenty of light because there is a skylight in addition to the tall windows that look out on the property.

 “Oh, look, we could put the bed here and maybe we could see our stars.” Emma says, pointing up for a moment before grabbing back onto Henry’s leg where it rests on her hip.

 Killian, who had been peeking into the bathroom, steps out and looks up. “Now that would be something.”

 He moves to stand beside her and after having another look around the room, she stares at him, waiting for him to say something else.

 When he meets her gaze, he sighs. “Do you love this just as much as me or am I completely misreading your appraisal?”

 Emma laughs. “I do love it. It’s pretty perfect.”

 “Aye,” he nods. He looks at Henry briefly. “I could see us living here. Raising our family.”

 An excited feeling bubbles up inside of her as if she were five years old and about to attend a carnival. She can’t help herself from smiling nervously.

 “Are we going to buy the first house we’ve looked at?”

 Killian lifts a shoulder. “We’ll have to see what Gold says about the price, but… yes, pretty much.”

 She shakes her head. “Let’s do it.”

 “Yeah?” he asks, just as breathless as she is.

 “Yeah. I’m ready. Are you?”

 “More than.”

 ///

THREE MONTHS LATER

There is no tangible way to describe how happy she is. Standing beneath the stars, with the glow of the lantern lights, the bass throbbing in her chest as she smiles up at her husband and dances without rhyme or rhythm.

 He’s holding her son, who wears a little suit, minus the coat and bow tie because he’d gotten a little hot during the ceremony, and he giggles happily while they seem to dance in complete slow motion.

 Emma tries to memorize the happy creases by the sides of Killian’s eyes, and the way his laughter sounds when she takes Henry’s hands and swings them back and forth to the rhythm of the music.

 All around her, friends and family have joined them in celebration of their special day.

 Perfect doesn’t quite cover how wonderful everything was.

 After turning her gaze to the sky, she finds the familiar constellation, a Cygnus, and lowers her attention to her husband again.

 Emma settles her hand against Killian’s cheek and presses up onto her bare toes in the soft grass to kiss him soundly, her heart about to burst from her chest with joy.

 When she pulls back, she grabs at his bared arm, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows so that he now rocks the white dress shirt with brown suspenders look, something she adores.

 Their attention goes to Henry, just to kiss his cheeks and squeeze his fingers. They’re a family, all three of them. Somehow, they found each other. It’s a miracle she’s been silently thankful for this whole day.

 They find their seats when Henry tells them he wants to eat, and she helps with his grilled cheese. Glancing past her son, she finds Charlie sitting beside Liam and Brennan, laughing while they talk about something.

 It makes her heart swell.

 Hannah, her mother, and Nana, all gather together at another table. Hannah’s one of Emma’s bridesmaids, with Elsa being her Maid of Honor, something she’d taken so seriously.

 Currently, Elsa sits beside Henry, smiling at Emma when she meets her eyes.

 “Elsa, everything is so perfect,” Emma says. “Are you having a good night?”

 Elsa nods. “Yes. The most perfect.”

 She feels Killian beside her, his arm falling away from the small of her back. He leans in close and kisses her cheek.

 Before she knows it, he’s standing, tapping on his glass.

 “If I could have everyone’s attention, I’d appreciate it.”

 Everyone quiets down, turning their attention to her husband. Emma looks up at him, eyes slightly narrowed.

 He smiles, looking down at her after a moment. “I wanted to just thank everyone for being here today. It means a lot to us.”

 Emma nods in agreement.

 “Ah… I also wanted to talk a little bit about the nature of soulmates. I know, it’s a touchy subject, but… coming from a skeptic, I think I might have an interesting perspective on it.”

 Killian stares at her and Henry, his gaze softening. “When I was a teenager, I met someone who was my match. It was perfect in almost every way, up until the day she passed away six months after the fact.”

 A hush falls over the crowd, sadness having tinted his tone.

 “I didn’t believe I could fall in love after that. Not deeply. Not truly.” Killian shakes his head. “The idea of soulmates became as silly as a fairytale. I hated the idea of having a soulmate after what had happened. I thought she was it for me. Nothing could replace her in my heart.”

 Killian’s jaw clenches and he pauses. “Nine months ago, I came to Storybrooke trying to stop Liam from proposing to and ultimately marrying his soulmate, Elsa.”

 Some scattered laughter bounces up into the atmosphere.

 “Aye. Silly, isn’t it? Married within a few days of arriving to town.” Killian shakes his head. “I practically didn’t try at all.”

 Emma laughs this time, smiling up at him. He clears his throat.

 “But what I didn’t know, coming here, was that I’d end up having to stay on this very farm, with the Nolan’s during Christmas. All of us, jammed into this tiny farmhouse in the middle of winter.”

 He tosses a hand up at the house behind them and smiles. “They showed me something I’d never really had before: a family. They took me in as one of their own and never asked questions. Even gave me gifts on Christmas day.”

 He looks over at her parents, now standing together, arms around each other.

 “One of the first conversations I’d had with Emma was about the validity of soulmates. How neither of us believed in them. We both had our reasons. And I know we weren’t looking for love, not desperately, but… every time I looked at her, I had a feeling. It pulled at me until I’d speak to her, and even then it was never enough. I felt like I was home. Finally, after years of searching I didn’t have to keep looking because I’d found what everything in life had led me towards.

 “I’m finally home thanks to you, Emma.” Killian says softly. “You’re where I belong. Maybe that’s what a soulmate is; the place where your heart stops searching and just knows.”

 She feels tears in her eyes at the words and manages to smile up at him while she takes his free hand and squeezes his fingers.

 “So I’d like to invite us to raise a glass,” he says to everyone. “To soulmates.”

 ///

 Emma holds onto Killian tight and rests her cheek against his shoulder while he does the same, his breath in her ear and his arm around her waist.

 They’re slow dancing below the glow of the moon and the stars, with the grass in between her toes and her head spinning.

 Emma leans away from him a little and admires him, her fingers going from where they’d rested on his shoulder to move a strand of hair away from his forehead.

 “Did you know before you saw my mark?” she asks in a whisper.

 Her husband doesn’t skip a beat, his affectionate stare kind. “Aye. I knew when you were showing me how to clean cow manure.”  

 She can’t help herself from laughing, something that makes him chuckle warmly. She takes a breath and releases it heavily.

 “Really?”

 “I can’t go back now and change it and I wouldn’t.”

 Emma hums. Suddenly all she sees is their future, so bright and full of love, and she can’t wait to share it with him. Her best friend, her true love, her soulmate.

 “I love you. More than all the stars in the sky.” Emma says just loud enough for him to hear.

 His smile matches hers. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky.”

[pokemonshelterstories]

Do you have any tips or advice for a relatively new ranger? I recently completed training but I don't have much experience yet.

oh man, congrats! that's so exciting!! also a little scary haha

my first tip is get to know the people in the area you're working in! artazon is on the smaller side, so i know a lot of the residents in my part of town; if you're stationed somewhere more populated, i'd get to know your local pokemon center staff and some of the local business owners. these people are such a lifeline in the work you're going to do, and being on good terms with them can make tough jobs so much easier

second tip- use the resources they give you! practice with your styler in the MTAT, even if you're just practicing on bidoof! bring your styler to the techs sooner rather than later! be good to your operators and listen to your seniors and tag along on any case they let you! you'll feel so much more comfortable when you get your first solo case if you've been taking the time to be prepared.

my last tip- you know those hand-wrist-arm stretches they teach you? do them. you will regret it if you don't, believe me.

good luck! i'm sure you'll do great!

[beavakarian]

MORE THAN A TRICKSTER - ATTO XIX [ITA]

Autore: maximeshepard (BeatrixVakarian)

Genere: Mature

Pairing: Loki/Thor

Sommario: questo è il mio personale Ragnarok. Si parte e si finirà alla stessa maniera, alcune scene saranno uguali, altre modificate, altre inedite. Parto subito col precisare che qui troverete un Loki che non ha nulla a che fare con il “rogue/mage” in cui è stato trasformato in Ragnarok, e un Thor che si rifà a ciò che abbiamo visto fino a TDW.

Loki e Thor sono stati da sempre su due vie diverse, ma quando il Ragnarok incomberà inesorabile su Asgard, le cose cambieranno. Molte cose cambieranno.

Capitoli precedenti: Atto I - Atto II - Atto III - Atto IV - Atto V - Atto VI - Atto VII - Atto VIII - Atto IX - Atto X - Atto XI - Atto XII - Atto XIII - Atto XIV - Atto XV - Atto XVI - Atto XVII - Atto XVIII

@lasimo74allmyworld @piccolaromana @miharu87 @meblokison @mylittlesunshineblog

Nda: ragazze… (Siete tutte donne? A volte do per scontato determinate cose, scusate. Mo ho i dubbi!) Io non so neanche più come ringraziarvi, perché diventerei ripetitiva e molto simile ad un giapponese che si inchina a ripetizione nelle varie direzioni. Ma apprezzo tantissimo il vostro supporto, quindi, ancora una volta, GRAZIE DI CUORE. Davvero.

Penultimo mio giorno di ferie e… Penultimo capitolo. ^^’ Domani, se la musa mi sarà di ispirazione, metterò la parola fine a questa fanfiction, o, per lo meno al suo blocco principale. Credo posterò due capitoli bonus (me li stavo figurando in testa oggi, per bene), per far terminare questa storia in 20 capitoli tondi + 2 extra. Non so quando li scriverò, ma saranno brevi stralci e accadranno… COSE. (Vi lascio libera interpretazione LOL).  Cose che saranno canon per il mio universo: mi sto portando avanti con dei progetti oneshot o comunque brevi. Facile che MTaT diventerà parte di una serie o di una raccolta. ^^

Quindi… Incrociate le dita per domani, che se riesco a mettere la parola fine a questa storia, stappo una bottiglia di spumante e festeggio alla mia. LOL

- ATTO XIX -

Per quanto Loki potesse evocare le sue daghe così come Hela evocava le sue armi, scelse di affrontarla con Gungnir e con la magia. Sarebbe stato folle andare di corto raggio contro di lei, sebbene Loki avesse affinato quella tecnica. Forse contro altri avversari non sarebbe risultato problematico, ma contro la Dea della Morte, capace di congiurare decine di armi con un solo cenno della mano, trovare il momento giusto per far breccia nelle sue difese, era cosa tutt’altro che facile.

Hela, passo dopo passo, stava accorciando le distanze: le sue movenze erano quelle di una leonessa in attesa di calare i suoi artigli la preda. Fiera e spietata.

Loki levò la mano sinistra verso l’alto e il Casket apparve nella sua fredda luminescenza e prese a galleggiare sopra la sua figura. Disegnò una linea rapida nell’aria e un muro di ghiaccio andò a dividere l’arena a metà, lasciando Thor nell’altra parte – il quale si concesse il lusso di serrare i denti, in quell’unico attimo di distrazione.

Loki l’avrebbe protetto con tutto ciò che poteva. Quello scontro, viste anche le dimensioni ridotte dell’arena, sarebbe durato poco e, quindi, Thor non poteva distrarsi.

“Sei serio? Un Gigante di Ghiaccio che difende Asgard? Mi sono persa qualche relazione extraconiugale di Nostro Padre?” chiese Hela, sbeffeggiandolo e mettendosi le mani sui fianchi. Loki chiuse gli occhi per qualche istante – un sorriso sardonico gli attraversò il volto – per poi battere energicamente la base della lancia sul pavimento distrutto.

Un boato. Il boato del richiamo del Re di Asgard.

Il monito.

“Devo ammetterlo, Hela” esordì lui “Molti rimarrebbero ammaliati dal tuo stile di combattimento. Sei forte, sei precisa. Hai un’ottima mira” proseguì Loki, enumerando le doti della sorella con accenno di charme nella sua voce “Le tue difese sono praticamente impenetrabili e provi gusto a combattere”.

Una lama nera fendette l’aria, ma si infranse contro la barriera di ghiaccio sviluppatasi dalla reliquia che, immediatamente, andò a proteggerlo, esplodendo in una miriade di schegge.

Loki sorrise nuovamente.

“Appunto” rispose, sogghignando “Ma quello che ti manca è, come dire… La creatività”.

Flesse il polso e diversi cloni della sua immagine e della reliquia si materializzarono tutti attorno a lei.

Hela sorrise sprezzante, per poi scuotere la testa. 

“E questa sarebbe ciò che chiami creatività?” domandò, evocando cinque spade e disponendole a raggiera, come già in passato aveva fatto. Sibilarono sinistre, infrangendosi quattro nelle pareti della sala ed una nella barriera di ghiaccio, proprio innanzi a Thor – ove Loki gli dava le spalle fino a poco prima.

La Dea della Morte inarcò un sopracciglio per la sorpresa, mentre sentì il gelido respiro di Loki sul suo collo e un ringhio terribilmente basso e animalesco.

“No, ma è quanto basta ad intrattenerti e darmi soddisfazione” sussurrò, per poi colpire Hela al volto con la lancia di Odino, nell’esatto momento nel quale la donna si era voltata, per rimettersi in guardia ed attaccare. Hela indietreggiò portandosi le dita sulla ferita che si era sviluppata sul suo zigomo: i suoi occhi tradivano incredulità, ma soprattutto furia.

Tutte le figure attorno a lei ghignarono a quella vista.

“Vuoi Asgard, Sorella? Vieni a prenderla!”

* Loki si trovò ben presto a fare i conti con il dispendio di energie. Aveva portato a segno pochi colpi e di entità moderata – il suo scopo era quello di distrarre Hela da Thor e pareva avesse funzionato.

Aveva capito, altresì, cosa intendesse Hela con il fatto che non potessero batterla su Asgard: era capace di rigenerarsi e, tutto intorno a sé, sentiva la magia di Asgard fluire e lottare contro di loro. Persino i nodi erano instabili e i fili arancioni tremavano sommessamente alla furia della Dea.

E’ come se Asgard cantasse tutto intorno a loro. Per lei. Come se fosse sotto un incantesimo di una Succube. E la cosa lo faceva rabbrividire.

Avrebbe potuto usare il Tesseract. Lo sentiva pulsare nella dimensione parallela, lo sentiva scalpitare. Lo sentiva invocare il suo nome, mentre evocava il ghiaccio di quella reliquia definita da Hela come debole e più volte schernita. Il campo di battaglia era diventato una rovina come le tante su Jotunheim, solo di colore diverso, ma ricoperta dai riflessi acciaio del ghiaccio perenne.

Ma non poteva usarlo. Asgard era sotto la minaccia di Hela, non poteva attirare anche Thanos qui. Finché se ne restava al sicuro e silente nella sala dei trofei era un conto, ma rilasciare il suo picco di energia ora, avrebbe provocato più danni che benefici. Lo avrebbe utilizzato unicamente se non vi fosse stata altra possibilità.

Nell’ennesimo scontro, quando oppose Gungnir alle spade gemelle che Hela aveva congiurato, si trovò spalle al colonnato. Cercò di respingere quel treno carico di risentimento ed immortalità, ma Hela lo sbalzò indietro e la sua schiena impattò violentemente la colonna.

Lasciò cadere la lancia, congiurando la daga, la quale arrivò ad un soffio dalla gola della Dea, prima di sentire la spalla lacerarsi.

*

Quando Thor sentì il fratello urlare di dolore e la sua immagine, appena visibile, inchiodata ad una delle poche colonne sopravvissute ai combattimenti di quella giornata, con una delle spade di Hela conficcata nella spalla già precedentemente ferita, decise che era giunto il momento di bandire, una volta per tutte, quel mostro da Asgard.

Loki oppose, con la mano libera, il potere del Casket, riuscendo ad allontanare Hela di qualche metro prima che lei si esibisse in una mossa fatale, ma lei aumentò la generazione delle armi e, letteralmente, si fece strada nel cono di ghiaccio e bufera che Loki, in preda al dolore, tentava di governare al meglio delle sue possibilità.

“NON OSARE!”

Un boato terrificante si udì quando Thor, in un globo unico di fulmini, distrusse la barriera di ghiaccio con una spallata e accorciò le distanze, con una velocità impressionante: atterrò Hela, faccia a terra, scambiando uno sguardo con il fratello.

Loki rimase impietrito da ciò che vide. Mentre Thor con la mano e il ginocchio posto sopra la sua schiena, teneva Hela a inchiodata al pavimento, il cielo divenne immediatamente cupo. Il blu si mescolò al grigio, macchiandosi di nero e di viola. Un fragore immenso fece tremare Asgard e le saette graffiarono l’oscurità.

Entrambi le orbite di Thor risplendevano di una luce sinistra che gli smorzò finanche il lamento strozzato che aveva in gola, per il dolore della lama conficcata nelle carni e il potere tremendo di Hela.

Thor sembrava un mostro. Non un mostro come Hulk, ma un mostro nel pieno delle sue facoltà.

Un mostro come Hela.

Il sangue Asgardiano.

Quando Hela si mosse e riuscì a togliersi Thor di dosso, Loki parve riprendersi dallo shock: afferrò con forza la lama nera e la estrasse, cadendo al suolo e stringendo i denti per l’estremo dolore che provava. Era chiaro che il potere di Hela su di lui avesse effetti molto diversi, rispetto a suo fratello.

Nel mentre prendeva fiato, vide chiaramente il tornado materializzarsi dal cielo e il suo viso fu immediatamente sferzato da una pioggia battente e dal vento che ululava almeno quanto Thor stesse gridando in quel momento.

Ed ad un tratto, quando la spirale toccò terra, non vide più né lui, né Hela. Solo il fusto del tornado innanzi a sé e dovette ripararsi in un luogo sicuro per non rischiare di venire travolto e trascinato con loro.

Si mosse verso l’uscita del palazzo, seguendo il vortice dalle crepe di una parte di soffitto che ancora, per mistero più che per magia, pareva reggere e rifiutarsi di crollare: sopra di lui la luce abbagliante dei fulmini di Thor veniva macchiata dalle infide spire nere degli attacchi di Hela.

Dovette aumentare il passo, finché non si trovò a correre giù per le scalinate del palazzo. Thor, con quella tempesta, aveva creato una sorta di gabbia: non sapeva se Hela sapesse volare, ma le sue doti atletiche erano degne di nota. Difficilmente avrebbe rallentato i movimenti di Thor usando il ghiaccio, avvolto com’era da quell’energia spaventosa. Tanto valeva provare ad unire le forze.

Strinse la reliquia di Jotunheim in entrambe le mani, puntando il raggio direttamente sulla base del tornado che ormai aveva distrutto tutto il costolone laterale del palazzo e si stava dirigendo verso la via che conduceva al Bifrost.

La temperatura precipitò notevolmente, tutta l’area del piazzale e del palazzo reale si ghiacciò istantaneamente. La pioggia diventò grandine dapprima e poi lunghi aghi di ghiaccio e la tempesta si trasformò in una tormenta di proporzioni davvero preoccupanti.

Infatti, quando lo stridio del Casket cessò di sovrapporsi alla tempesta, Loki sentì chiamare il suo nome.

Era Heimdall - i suoi occhi arancioni che brillavano come fiamme nella notte.

***

Lo sconforto che prima dell’arrivo di Loki, aveva invaso l’animo di Thor, era come se fosse sparito. O meglio, la frenesia di quella scelta, tutto quel potere scatenato in un unico istante, aveva inebriato i suoi sensi al punto tale che tutta la fatica provata fino ad un istante prima, sembrava essere sparita nel nulla.

Non si era reso conto che i suoi poteri, dallo scontro contro Hulk e dall’avventura avuta fuori Asgard – da quando Hela aveva distrutto Mjolnir – fossero diventati tali. Era come se avesse intravisto la strada nella fitta nebbia e l’urlo di dolore di Loki avesse acceso i fari di quell’auto che, inesorabile, viaggiava nel nulla, senza una meta precisa, rischiando di finire in un campo.

Thor si era fuso con il suo elemento. Non solo con il fulmine e il tuono, ma con l’aria. Con la tempesta. E quando arrivò l’aiuto del fratello, il fulmine brillò più intensamente, schermandolo da quella forza pungente e schiacciando Hela tra le due furie.

Incassò diversi colpi, ma ne portò a segno altrettanti. La combinazione del fulmine e del ghiaccio, segnava impietosamente il corpo di Hela, versando sangue che, immediatamente, si cristallizzava e scompariva, ridotto in fumo o in polvere.

Si spostò con la tempesta verso il Bifrost, mosso dall’istinto e intravide il Ponte Arcobaleno brillare attraverso le fenditure del vortice. Fu nell’istante che Thor si oppose ad un attacco di Hela, catturandole un braccio in una chiave articolare, che la sorella capì il suo intento.

“Oh, non credere di riuscirci, Figlio di Odino!” ruggì lei, ribaltando velocemente la situazione e portandosi alle spalle di Thor e invertendo la chiave articolare attorno al suo collo.

L’odore del sangue di Hela era nauseabondo. Sapeva di morte e putrefazione, con note dolciastre, tipiche di quando si lascia una carogna a marcire in un luogo umido per il tempo necessario a coltivare terreno fertile per i naturali processi.

La sentiva ansimare, quasi grugnire, nel suo orecchio, mentre le sue braccia gli schiacciavano nuovamente la gola, senza pietà. Questa volta non si mise a congiurare lame e a colpirlo: Thor avvertì che la sua supposizione era corretta e che il piano di scacciare Hela nel Void potesse rappresentare realmente un problema, per lei.

Difficile pensarla diversamente. E con il Bifrost sigillato, o distrutto – a costo di tagliare nuovamente Asgard fuori dagli altri Realm – le sarebbe risultato difficile riottenere tutto quel potere e fronteggiare entrambi in un campo di battaglia diverso.

Restava comunque il fatto che, per quanto Hela stesse patendo il potere di entrambi sulla propria pelle, per quanto Thor potesse avvertire la sua paura, la sua forza rimaneva tale e l’aria nei suoi polmoni cominciò nuovamente a diminuire inesorabilmente. La sua gola doleva, le sue mani erano andate nuovamente a contrastare con il potere del lampo e della sua forza fisica, quella stretta.

Quando la sua vista cominciò a vacillare, Thor pensò unicamente a due cose: mantenere la tempesta, in modo tale da creare problemi alla sorella e movimento e… Raccogliere le ultime forze e trascinare Hela nel Void con sé stesso.

Un sacrificio. Un solo uomo per salvare il suo mondo e la sua gente, già trucidata. I pochi amici rimasti al suo fianco. Il resto dell’Universo.

Suo fratello.

Loki, che, con sguardo sbarrato, osservava il cono del tornado avvicinarsi pericolosamente al Bifrost, correndo come un forsennato verso quel dannato ponte, con Heimdall appresso.

Se avesse potuto vedere quegli occhi rossi sgranati, pieni di terrore, forse ci avrebbe ripensato. Forse si sarebbe tirato indietro, per non causargli dolore. Un moto di egoismo, accettando finalmente la realtà delle cose: ovvero che Loki lo amasse con tutto sé stesso.

*

E quando una lacrima scese ed evaporò all’istante, quando sorrise accettando il suo destino, innanzi a sé si ritrovò il cielo azzurro della Norvegia, le sue ginocchia appoggiate sull’erba tenera, appena germogliata.

E la sagoma dell’Allfather, nelle sue vesti Midgardiane, goffe e così inadatte alla figura di Odino, che, circondato dall’aura dorata, lo osservava seduto su quel masso, con un’aria bonaria che mai aveva visto dipinta sul suo.

Thor, in ginocchio, chinò la testa. Chiese come potesse fermare ciò che era stato bandito e contenuto con un potente incantesimo che solo Allfather, l’Allmother e tutti i Saggi, ormai defunti, avevano potuto ideare.

Odino sorrise e Thor cercò di capire se quella fosse una delle sue visioni, dei suoi sogni, oppure il delirio di una mente morente.

“Scatena il Ragnarok”.

Se Thor non avesse conosciuto un minimo suo Padre, avrebbe attribuito quelle parole ad un delirio di un vecchio, la cui mente ormai si era perduta nell’impietoso avanzare del tempo.

“Puoi gettare Hela nel Void, allontanarla da Asgard, ma rimanderesti solo il problema”.

Thor portò le mani alla bocca, per poi stropicciarsi la barba e le guance. Una richiesta assurda, ma a quelle parole, molte cose acquisivano senso. I suoi incubi acquisivano un senso. Il fatto che non fossero cessati, nonostante avesse ucciso Surtur e messo al sicuro la reliquia.

“Dovrei distruggere Asgard? Come potrei, Padre?!”

Il cuore di Thor martellava nel petto, la sua espressione era tesa all’inverosimile e le sopracciglia aggrottate dall’incredulità. Distruggere Asgard, un intero Realm. Il suo Realm. Il suo pianeta, il suo mondo. Scatenare il Ragnarok, lasciare che Surtur si cibasse del piacere di scomporre pezzo dopo pezzo la sua civiltà millenaria.

Odino portò il suo sguardo verso il tiepido e timido sole primaverile per qualche istante, per poi rivolgersi di nuovo al figlio.

“Asgard non è un luogo. E’ un popolo” rispose con una semplicità ed una saggezza pratica che, in quel momento Thor non riuscì a concepire, a condividere. Anzi, una sensazione, un istinto, lottava contro quelle parole al centro del suo petto, lottava contro sé stesso che si alzava e salutava con un cenno del capo suo Padre.

Non lo ringraziò a parole, anche se quel cenno trasudava una sorta di gratitudine. Forse immeritata.

***

Ciò che seguì alla visione di Thor, fu un enorme lampo azzurro abbagliante, che azzerò la tempesta di colpo e schiantò Hela sul Bifrost, non molto lontana da Brunhilde.

Fu il silenzio, interrotto unicamente dalle sferzate di aria gelida del residuo potere della reliquia di Jotunheim. Thor atterrò a fianco di Loki, impattando la roccia all’imbocco del Ponte Arcobaleno, creando un cratere sotto ai suoi piedi.

 ***

Thor spese poche, semplici parole quando Loki chiese spiegazioni. E Loki si ammutolì di colpo, stringendo Gungnir tra le dita in maniera compulsiva, ma celando la confusione che esplodeva dentro di lui.

“E’ una mossa coraggiosa, fratello. Perfino per uno come me…” esordì, appena riuscì a deglutire il nodo che gli si era formato in fondo alla gola. Thor lo guardò con un’ombra in viso, serrando le labbra e annuendo impercettibilmente, come per sottolineare l’inevitabile.

Loki, allora, gli porse la lancia con estrema naturalezza, ma Thor si ritrasse.

“Lo farò io”.

A Loki cascò quasi la mandibola.

“Non dire fesserie, Thor” replicò con una nota d’astio nella voce, che non riuscì a nascondere, ma il fratello manteneva il suo sguardo sulla sagoma di Hela che, non con poca fatica, stava cercando di rialzarsi.

“THOR!” urlò Loki e Thor fu costretto a voltarsi verso di lui. Loki era tornato da qualche minuto al suo aspetto Asgardiano, e i suoi capelli erano sconvolti quanto la sua espressione in volto.

“E’ compito mio, Loki”.

Loki gli menò un colpo diretto alla spalla, scomponendo quella posa granitica e causando una smorfia di dolore sul viso del fratello.

“E saresti disposto a vivere con questa cosa per tutto il resto della vita?! Tu, l’eroe dorato che Asgard tanto ama, fautore della sua distruzione?” gli sputò quelle parole velenose direttamente in faccia.

“Non è così semplice, Thor! Per quanto sia inevitabile, è un peso che nessuno vorrebbe portare sulle proprie spalle!”

“E perché vorresti portarlo tu?” fu la domanda calma e ponderata di Thor, alla quale Loki ansimò per qualche istante e rispose con una smorfia ironica e una risata amara.

“Perché tu devi avere il consenso del popolo, Thor. Io no”.

Thor scosse la testa in senso di diniego, portando nuovamente lo sguardo su Hela e sulla Valchiria, che, con la lama azzurra sguainata le si era avvicinata, guardinga. Anche in lontananza, poteva vedere il suo volto teso e il turbinio di emozioni cui era preda. Loki gli si parò allora di fronte – inaccettabile che rifiutasse la soluzione più logica e conveniente.

“Non sei un capro espiatorio, Loki”.

“Non puoi decidere sempre tutto tu, dannazione!”

E Thor capì che quella frase era pura circostanza, capì che Loki voleva proteggerlo da ciò che l’avrebbe distrutto. Lo capì dal suo sguardo disperato e dalle spalle di lui che tremavano, dalla forza con cui le sue mani stringevano l’armatura.

Hela si rimise in piedi e venne immediatamente circondata da Brunhilde, Hulk, Sif ed Heimdall, che nel frattempo si era sfilato dai due.

Portò la mano destra alla base del collo, appoggiando la sua fronte a quella del fratello e socchiuse l’occhio, espirando profondamente. Loki socchiuse gli occhi a sua volta, le lacrime che gli rigavano il volto.

In un impulso istintivo, fece per stabilire una connessione con la sua mente. Per un istante, Thor vide un qualcosa e così fece Loki. Non seppe neanche il motivo di quel gesto, perché stabilire una connessione mentale in quel momento delicato, ma non ebbe tempo di trovare una risposta perché un fulmine – seppur di media intensità – si propagò lungo il suo corpo, scagliandolo in là di qualche metro.

Quando si alzò da terra, riprendendosi dallo shock di quel gesto, vide Thor sorridere flebilmente e librarsi in aria, in un turbinio di fulmini e sparire verso ciò che restava del palazzo reale.

[nobadphotos-blog]

Tragical History Tour aka @drdeeker ripping it up with his acoustic cowpunk goodness at the Twa Tams last night. First attempt at live music photography, besides pointing crap digital cameras and smartphones at bands over the last 20 years. . . #nobadphotos #tragicalhistorytour #twatams #mtat #makethatatake #cowpunk #perthscotland #livemusic #livemusicrocks #livemusicphoto #acousticguitar #diypunk #punksnotdead #songwriter #musician #giglife #gigstagram #scottishmusic #acoustic #acousticpunk #folkpunk #punk #punkrock #folk #gigphotography #bandphotography #livemusicphotography #nikond500 #d500 #50mmprime (at The Twa Tams)

[warning---brainstorm]

My lovely books where I draw 😸🖤 . #books #drawing #sketchbook #stuff #frightmare #stickers #wolf #crosses #black #mtat

[spacecowboysh]

#NowPlaying First Bite by More Than a Thousand

[isthereanybodyquoting]

"Bury me by your side. We love, live and we die but we'll never let go."

- More Than A Thousand, Never Let Go

[navylawyer]

One for the book...our last day here.... #mcsc48 #navylawyer #navy #kamimi #instagood #fashion #meninuniform #legad #mobilefotography #puspahanas #happy #photooftheday #bearded #puspahanas #mtat #military (at Puspahanas) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1agijJFmBo/?igshid=13n2u6a5x3u4z