#thortheavengergod

[hoouna-archived-blog]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! - OOC

So I got all the help from @thor-theavengergod ’s mun for this christmas present. But I hope you love it as much as I did. 

-hugs and love and all the tea and cookies sweets!!

-Chicken (and Liam because lbr real without him this wouldn’t exist)

--- 

NO, Omg, THANK YOU BOTH FOR THIS.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH.  Liam, babe, your art is amazing and I adore it so much. AND CHICKEN!!!!!!! you know how much I loved this pose for our boys. 

[the-mjolnir-owner]

//Are you guys having trouble to @ tag people or is it just me?

[thatismyblood]

Thor/Henry || In Chains

Henry nunca iria esquecer aquela noite. Nunca.

Aqueles homens tinham acabado com seus amigos. Mataram mais vampiros em uma noite do que já acontecera em séculos!

Talvez a maneira com que haviam começado...com a morte de um deles...tivesse assinalado, como um mau agouro, o destino de todos os outros. Mas aquele era um pensamento supersticioso e tolo, um pensamento humano, e mesmo assim ele se insinuava na mente. Henry não fazia idéia do que passava na mente dos sobreviventes; além de ‘sobreviver’, é claro.

E agora lá estava ele: sozinho, acorrentado como um animal a espera da manhã. A espera da morte. Ainda lhe doía ter visto Vanessa sucumbir...ainda doeria por muito, muito tempo. Os vampiros nunca esqueciam os seus e Henry prometera, tanto para o general como para si mesmo, que o homem iria pagar. E Henry ia gostar de fazê-lo pagar.

Mas para isso ele precisava sair dali vivo. Não duvidava que outros sobrevivessem...o plano de Sebastian fora muito bem pensado...mas eles conseguiriam chegar até ele a tempo?

Lembrou-se de Thor. Aquele gigante nórdico (bem, o povo dele tinha praticamente inventado os nórdicos, não?), sexy como o diabo e divertido como os melhores companheiros de bebida que já tivera. O que foi que ele dissera durante o mundo de perguntas e a conversa que tiveram? Ele era como um Deus, certo? Podia ouvir preces, as vezes? Henry não tinha certeza mas na atual situação...por que não? Fechou os olhos.

Thor. Thor, Deus do Trovão...se puder me ouvir, eu lhe rogo que atenda minha prece. Preciso de você, grandão. Quando a manhã chegar eu vou virar cinzas. Você pode me ouvir? Pode me salvar, Thor? Por favor?

Não sabia mais o que dizer então continuou repetindo aquilo com o máximo fervor que podia.

Se eu virar cinzas, grandão...nossos planos de noites quentes regadas a bebidas e sexo não vai acontecer...Ele acrescentou, com um pequeno sorriso de lado, seu bom humor não o abandonando nem em uma situação daquelas.

[ruginite]

Of Slaves and Free Men

It’s hot. The sun beating down upon the dirt and sand. But he hardly notices, sitting along a low slung wall in the yard of his Dominus’ Ludus. He’s lived in this heat all his life. A few fighters, only a few weeks since their arrival, are being run through their paces. Pushed to their limit in order for their metal to be discovered. He feels a flicker of pity, for the ones that won’t make it. But it’s only a flicker, and his attention is soon enough returned to tossing rocks at the birds that line the outer wall of the Ludus. He’s up to twelve hits without missing so far.

Or at least he had been until a cry followed shortly by the appearance of an ancillae upon the upper level, reached the training yard. The Dominus has arrived. She says. And with him giants. Something that earns a few chuckles from the veterans as well as the Doctore; though Bastian himself remains quiet. A sharp gaze narrowing upon the doorway to the yard, the distant but distinct sound of heavy chains filling the quiet that has fallen over his peers. And there is an eerie tinge to the air, that he does not like. One that carries a coldness to it, despite the heat of the day.

Soon enough however the clinking of metal is joined by the sound of feet. Heavy in the dirt. And from the shadows of the doorway emerges a handful of men. Gladiators of every rank, shifting and moving out of their way, as they are herded into the yard. Spread out and lined up for all to see. And Bastian finds that the ancillae had not exaggerated, something that has him drawing his feet beneath him. Crouching in his place.

They easily out stood any here in the Ludus. All with hair that fell loose and in braids at their shoulders and backs. Save one, whose was the color of spun gold. And it’s a curious thing. How unlike the other’s, the blonde stands errected. Head high and undaunted by the iron strapped to his frame. There is only one kind of slave that carry themselves in such a manner. Those that had once been free. And Bastian can’t help by stare can he? The concept of such a status, just as forgein as the giants.

Words are passed between Albanus(the Doctore) and the Chief of Slaves. Something about the Dominus wishing his new purchases shown what is expected and in the morning each of them tested. But still Bastian’s gaze does not leave the new comers. Until Albanus’ hand is slapping his knee, and blue shifts to the Doctore of the Ludus.

Retrieve your claws, Liontári. I would have your help in teaching these titans, what is expected of them. The new one, Varius will oppose you.

Nothing more than a nod in acknowledgement is given before his feet find sand. Moving to do as instructed, as the others formed a circle about the yard’s center. Albanus wanted a demonstration? Bastian will give him one. Though that flicker of pity for the recently made gladiator, ignites and dies in his chest again. Varius might be broad by the man was not light on his feet, and that is where Bastian would have him. A snickering sort of expression twitching at his features, as he comes once more into view at the center of the ring. Swords in hand and awaiting Albanus’ word to begin.

[jonathanthelovelypianist]

Thor&Jonathan || The God and The Pianist.

(@thor-theavengergod

Jonathan raramente tocava fora da Igreja mas desta vez era um evento beneficente e o teatro local cedera o palco e instalações por uma noite, então...bem, ele estava dentro.

Fora uma noite realmente encantada. Primeiro o coral dos adultos regido por ele; então o coral das crianças regido pela Irmã Grace seguido de mais apresentações de crianças e adultos e então finalmente um lindo solo de piano de Jonathan. 

Era a última apresentação da noite e Jonathan não decepcionou em momento algum; muito pelo contrário. A apresentação foi belíssima e quando ele se levantou para agradecer os aplausos e a presença de todos, a platéia toda se ergueu para aplaudir o rapaz.

Claro que ele ficou aturdido, vermelho como um tomate e sorrindo bela mas nervosamente, agradecido mas modesto como era do seu feitio. Seu olhar passou pela platéia e de repente parou em um dos expectadores.

Um homem alto, loiro e de olhos azuis elétricos estava ali batendo palmas e olhando-o como se Jonathan fosse a oitava maravilha do mundo. Claro que outras pessoas (principalmente mulheres) estavam com esse mesmo olhar mas aquele homem parecia devora-lo com os olhos...e isso o fez engolir em seco e se atrapalhar um pouco então ele deu graças a Deus quando os outros organizadores subiram ao palco para agradecer e encerrar o evento.

Os paroquianos e familiares dos artistas adentraram os bastidores para conversar e parabenizar a todos e Jonathan estava ali no meio, sem nenhum parente ou esposa/namorada mas cercado de muitos amigos queridos. E isso era suficiente...certo? 

[whosxafraid]

[ruginite]

Grip

Meme:  send “grip” to grip my muse’s jaw in your muses handStatus: acceptin’

Goodbyes.

They…had not been easy. Though goodbyes never really are, are they? Whether its for a day, a week…or a life time. Because once he goes, there’s no going back. Forever displaced from this ground upon which he was born. Bound for another realm where he will live out the rest of his life. And while in comparison to current company that is…not that long–how much the concept of forever hangs over his shoulders, like atlas holding up the earth.

Heavy steps that carry him down the steps of the truck. Out of the darkened cage and out into the early morning sun. He’d spent last night telling his parents goodbye. They were probably half way around the world by right now. Facing their day with the knowledge their only child was moments away from being gone for good. Alive but gone. And it’s that thought that has him taking in what he can of the open field in which he stands. Surrounded by a small team of SHIELD’s finest. One of whom lowers their weapon when the approach.

                 Don’t blow this. Nice and easy. Here to there and out of our hair. Got it?

A nod even though he never gives them the courtesy of looking at them. To focused on the person ahead. Standing just out of arms reach of his detail. The person that was giving him a chance, a place to be without cages and chains. Someone else that loves him despite the fact maybe they shouldn’t. But there’s no undoing it now. Choices were made, choices that could not be undone.

One foot in front of the other. Coulson coming out of the proverbial wood works. He should have known the director would show up. Can’t send off one of your greatest security risks without someone in charge standing around to make sure they disappear like promised. The small group of agents closing in around him like a gravitating wall of guns and unspoken ‘try us’. Though he’s ignoring it as best he can. Focused entirely on the over sized blonde that waits for him. That greets him with a small nod.

                Bastian.

                “Hammer.”

Still as stone as the restraints at his wrists are removed. The damned power blocking collar around his neck. The thick clunky thing winding down and popping apart as it’s pulled free of him. Bastian rolling his neck and shoulders once it’s gone. The slightest of glares over his shoulder, as he’s encouraged to step forward by the butt of a gun behind him. 

               Go on. One over powered super freak was already one too many.

And that lights it doesn’t it? That temper of his that could go one to a billion in one second flat. But even as he’s moving. Fingers curling; a sharp grip to his jaw stops him dead in the water. Six feet plus of thundering god yanking him back from the brink. Grounding him again into the real world, and the compromise that’s been painfully drafted to see him here to begin with.

                   Not here. Remember what you promised.

Tenuous seconds beat by in the heart beats of everyone present. Hang from the ends of the dozen guns all pointed at him. Beat in between the heat lightening that’s always set’s Thor’s gaze shining brighter than his ever could. And inch by painful inch, he relents. Turns away from the smart mouthed agent and goes where the would be god leads.

Because Thor’s right even if Bastian doesn’t want to admit it. It’s over. His time here is done. And he has no one to blame but himself.

               Heimdal! When you are ready.