#Stump Removal in Cape Town

[sukruddintreeservices]

Welcome to Sukruddin Tree Services

Sukruddin Tree Services is a professional tree care company serving the Cape Town area. Our team of skilled arborists are committed to providing top-quality services to keep your trees healthy, safe, and looking their best. We specialize in a wide range of tree care services including tree trimming, pruning, tree removal, stump grinding, and tree health assessments. Our team uses the latest equipment and techniques to ensure that your trees are cared for with the highest level of safety and efficiency.

[news365timesindia]

[ad_1] Jasprit Bumrah at the Gabba (PC: BCCI/X) RevSportz Comment Though he never played a Test against them, Damien Fleming, a superb swing bowler on his day, was part of the generation of Australian cricketers that wrested the (unofficial) Test-match crown from mighty West Indies in the 1990s. So, when Fleming – who witnessed Curtly Ambrose’s spell of 1/7 from 5.2 overs at the old WACA in Perth, the sorcery of Wasim Akram and the White Lightning of Allan Donald – speaks, you tend to listen. “Jasprit Bumrah is the greatest touring fast bowler that I have ever seen,” he said recently, as Bumrah finished the five-Test Border-Gavaskar Trophy with 32 wickets, despite being unable to bowl in the final innings in Sydney. “He is an absolute superstar.” For Indian cricket fans, however, Bumrah is the surprise gift that just keeps on giving. Those who were at Newlands in January 2018 will remember just how much the then-24-year-old Bumrah’s selection was mocked, both in the press box and in clips aired on Indian television. What was an IPL player and a guy who bowled good yorkers for India in T20Is doing in whites? Fortunately, Virat Kohli, then captain, and Ravi Shastri, the coach, knew a lot more about the game than their critics, and Indian cricket hasn’t looked back since. For the Latest Sports News: Click Here Jasprit Bumrah in Australia (PC: X) Worlds like ‘generational talent’ are thrown around loosely these days, often before a player has even proved himself for a couple of seasons. But Bumrah is that, and so much more. From humble beginnings, and a pathway that was far removed from that paved for most prodigies, he had to do everything the hard way. That he has gone on to become such a complete bowler in all conditions is testament not just to his ability to soak up relevant information from here, there and everywhere, but a work ethic that is second to none. Those yorkers and befuddling slower balls are no accident – they are cricket diamonds that have been worked on for years to get that 24-carat finish. The raw numbers since that Cape Town morning when he was given his first cap are mind-boggling enough. Both his average (19.40) and strike-rate (42) while taking 205 wickets from 45 Tests put him top of the heap, ahead of names like Malcolm Marshall, Dale Steyn and Glenn McGrath. Only in New Zealand, where he has played just two Tests, has Bumrah failed to grab a series by the scruff. In 2024, he took 71 wickets in just 13 Tests, at a ridiculous average of 14.92. Only in four innings out of 26 (and one of those was a solitary over in Adelaide) did the opposition stop him taking a wicket. But the figures can only tell you so much. They can’t tell you of the awe he provokes in those that face him. Usman Khawaja spoke of being ‘Bumrah-ed’, while Travis Head – who specialises in wrecking Indian cricket dreams – couldn’t hide his admiration. Michael Clarke, who captained Mitchell Johnson during his Ashes pomp in 2013-14, told RevSportz that he hasn’t seen a better all-format pace bowler. Virat Kohli with Jasprit Bumrah after the SCG Test (PC: Debasis Sen) Bumrah can swing the ball, both new and old. He can get it to nip off the seam. He has a bouncer that rears up at you like an angry snake, and a yorker that makes a grotesque mess of stumps. The slower ball is a disguised thing of beauty, and his control is incredible for someone who hardly bowls at medium pace. Comparisons with bowlers from the uncovered-pitches era are pointless, but Bumrah more than holds his own against the modern greats. If you started following cricket 40 years ago, Marshall was the gold standard, capable of 33 wickets in an India series and of skittling teams in English conditions. Wasim Akram’s skill-set was second to none, while McGrath redefined control. Steyn had similar levels of accuracy at his peak, and Marshall’s waspish pace. Bumrah can still crank it up to the mid-140s when in the mood, and he is almost chess master-like in the way he works out batters.

Forget his greatness in white-ball cricket. Seven years after his much-derided selection, Bumrah is a bonafide great in the Test arena. If India want to win the World Test Championship in 2027, after having seen this cycle unravel so dramatically, he has to be wrapped in cotton wool during meaningless bilateral white-ball assignments. Kapil Dev, Zaheer Khan, Ishant Sharma, Javagal Srinath and Mohammed Shami may still be ahead of him in India’s all-time Test wicket-taker list for pace bowlers, but Bumrah is presently in a league of his own. Also Read: Bumrah’s brand value trails behind his worth on the field The post Bumrah as good as Marshall, Steyn and other modern-day greats appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[news365times]

[ad_1] Jasprit Bumrah at the Gabba (PC: BCCI/X) RevSportz Comment Though he never played a Test against them, Damien Fleming, a superb swing bowler on his day, was part of the generation of Australian cricketers that wrested the (unofficial) Test-match crown from mighty West Indies in the 1990s. So, when Fleming – who witnessed Curtly Ambrose’s spell of 1/7 from 5.2 overs at the old WACA in Perth, the sorcery of Wasim Akram and the White Lightning of Allan Donald – speaks, you tend to listen. “Jasprit Bumrah is the greatest touring fast bowler that I have ever seen,” he said recently, as Bumrah finished the five-Test Border-Gavaskar Trophy with 32 wickets, despite being unable to bowl in the final innings in Sydney. “He is an absolute superstar.” For Indian cricket fans, however, Bumrah is the surprise gift that just keeps on giving. Those who were at Newlands in January 2018 will remember just how much the then-24-year-old Bumrah’s selection was mocked, both in the press box and in clips aired on Indian television. What was an IPL player and a guy who bowled good yorkers for India in T20Is doing in whites? Fortunately, Virat Kohli, then captain, and Ravi Shastri, the coach, knew a lot more about the game than their critics, and Indian cricket hasn’t looked back since. For the Latest Sports News: Click Here Jasprit Bumrah in Australia (PC: X) Worlds like ‘generational talent’ are thrown around loosely these days, often before a player has even proved himself for a couple of seasons. But Bumrah is that, and so much more. From humble beginnings, and a pathway that was far removed from that paved for most prodigies, he had to do everything the hard way. That he has gone on to become such a complete bowler in all conditions is testament not just to his ability to soak up relevant information from here, there and everywhere, but a work ethic that is second to none. Those yorkers and befuddling slower balls are no accident – they are cricket diamonds that have been worked on for years to get that 24-carat finish. The raw numbers since that Cape Town morning when he was given his first cap are mind-boggling enough. Both his average (19.40) and strike-rate (42) while taking 205 wickets from 45 Tests put him top of the heap, ahead of names like Malcolm Marshall, Dale Steyn and Glenn McGrath. Only in New Zealand, where he has played just two Tests, has Bumrah failed to grab a series by the scruff. In 2024, he took 71 wickets in just 13 Tests, at a ridiculous average of 14.92. Only in four innings out of 26 (and one of those was a solitary over in Adelaide) did the opposition stop him taking a wicket. But the figures can only tell you so much. They can’t tell you of the awe he provokes in those that face him. Usman Khawaja spoke of being ‘Bumrah-ed’, while Travis Head – who specialises in wrecking Indian cricket dreams – couldn’t hide his admiration. Michael Clarke, who captained Mitchell Johnson during his Ashes pomp in 2013-14, told RevSportz that he hasn’t seen a better all-format pace bowler. Virat Kohli with Jasprit Bumrah after the SCG Test (PC: Debasis Sen) Bumrah can swing the ball, both new and old. He can get it to nip off the seam. He has a bouncer that rears up at you like an angry snake, and a yorker that makes a grotesque mess of stumps. The slower ball is a disguised thing of beauty, and his control is incredible for someone who hardly bowls at medium pace. Comparisons with bowlers from the uncovered-pitches era are pointless, but Bumrah more than holds his own against the modern greats. If you started following cricket 40 years ago, Marshall was the gold standard, capable of 33 wickets in an India series and of skittling teams in English conditions. Wasim Akram’s skill-set was second to none, while McGrath redefined control. Steyn had similar levels of accuracy at his peak, and Marshall’s waspish pace. Bumrah can still crank it up to the mid-140s when in the mood, and he is almost chess master-like in the way he works out batters.

Forget his greatness in white-ball cricket. Seven years after his much-derided selection, Bumrah is a bonafide great in the Test arena. If India want to win the World Test Championship in 2027, after having seen this cycle unravel so dramatically, he has to be wrapped in cotton wool during meaningless bilateral white-ball assignments. Kapil Dev, Zaheer Khan, Ishant Sharma, Javagal Srinath and Mohammed Shami may still be ahead of him in India’s all-time Test wicket-taker list for pace bowlers, but Bumrah is presently in a league of his own. Also Read: Bumrah’s brand value trails behind his worth on the field The post Bumrah as good as Marshall, Steyn and other modern-day greats appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[experttreefelling]

Welcome to Expert Tree Felling, your trusted provider of professional tree felling and maintenance services in South Africa. With a focus on safety, efficiency, and customer satisfaction, we are equipped to handle all your tree-related needs, whether for residential, commercial, or industrial properties.

Our Mission

At Expert Tree Felling, our mission is to ensure the health and safety of your outdoor spaces by offering reliable and expert tree care solutions. We aim to provide professional services that balance the needs of our clients with the preservation of the environment.

Our Services

Tree Felling and Removal: Safe and efficient removal of trees of any size, including those in hard-to-reach or high-risk areas.

Stump Removal and Grinding: Eliminating stumps to restore the beauty and functionality of your property.

Tree Trimming and Pruning: Enhancing the health, safety, and appearance of your trees through precise trimming and pruning.

Emergency Tree Services: Rapid response for storm-damaged or hazardous trees, ensuring the safety of your property.

Site Clearing: Comprehensive clearing services for construction sites or large-scale landscaping projects.

Why Choose Us?

Experienced Team: Our skilled professionals bring years of expertise to every job, ensuring the best results.

Safety First: We prioritize safety in every project, using advanced equipment and techniques to minimize risks.

Affordable Rates: Our services are competitively priced without compromising quality.

Eco-Friendly Practices: We promote environmentally responsible tree care and disposal practices.

Reliable Service: You can count on us to deliver prompt and dependable service every time.

Contact Us

If you're looking for professional tree felling services, Expert Tree Felling is here to help. Contact us today to schedule a consultation or request a free quote. Let us handle your tree care needs with the expertise and attention they deserve.

[mocaregreensolutions]

Revitalize Your Landscape: moCare Green Solutions

Explore the green creativity of moCare Green Solutions, located in Cape Town! With a focus on stump grinding services, we're committed to protecting the environment and restoring your landscape. The removed tree stumps are ground down by us. This method of eliminating stumps and keeping them from becoming a hazard is secure and efficient.

Call us today : +27-817036454

Visit Our Website : https://www.mocaresolutions.com/services

[treefellingexpert]

Hire the Most Efficient Palm Tree & Stump Removal Services in Cape Town

It is often taken for granted that palm tree removal and felling are the same process. They are in fact very different. Know about them in brief below.

·        Felling is the method of cutting down a tree. You still have the roots sitting in the ground. You are no longer in danger of having the tree fall on your home or growing over your wall or fouling the power lines, but it has a chance of regrowing since the roots are still there.

·        Removal encompasses the felling of the tree and the removal of all its connected parts. It is much more in depth and requires a lot more time and skill. It is also a lot messier than tree felling since the roots have to be removed. It depends on what kind of problem you have. If the tree is just crushing a wall and not causing damage with its roots, the simply chopping the tree down is enough. If the tree is digging up your swimming pool or growing into the foundation of the house, then you need to think about removal.

Is There Really a Requirement for Palm Tree Removal?

This is the initial issue that you ought to address. If palm care is not possible as it is diseased or is posing a threat to your building, then it is ideal to have it removed. Palm whose branches are interfering with electricity lines may also cause damage to your property. Yet, if you are getting rid of it only for ornamental purposes, then think before you act. You can trim it so as to present a more defined look. If it is really urgent to get rid of it, then seek the services of a professional Palm Tree Removal in Cape Town service rather than trying to do handle the job on your own.  

About Stump Removal:

After a tree is removed from an area, an unsightly eyesore known as a tree stump is left as a haunting reminder of the terrible deed. A natural technique of plant part removal could be a nice option to appease the tree spirits in distinction to ancient stump grinding or manual removal. Nature's method of recycling is known as decomposition. Decomposition, also known as rotting or decaying, is easy, simple (for humans), and healthy for the environment.

How Stump Removal Works?

Whether you are felling a tree and need to get rid of the stump afterwards otherwise you have a stump that has been there for years, the method of getting cut it is the same. Many tree service professionals utilize Stump Removal in Cape Town methods, using a machine to grind the wood down until it's even with the earth around it. While the roots remain underground, you can plant grass over top of where the stump used to be and enjoy a smooth, flat lawn. Those underground roots, meanwhile, will decay naturally over time.

[xmalereader]

The Mandalorian X Dark Fey! Male Reader

—

|| Masterlist ||

-

After S2 EP 5, I couldn’t help but come up with an idea! After finding out the child’s name and having Ashokas appearance, I couldn’t help myself but write some more Dark fey reader!! Also the inspiration comes from @fanficsforheartandsoul Please read their writing it is amazing and follow them!!

Summary: Din and reader have found the child a teacher, Ashoka, and learn a few new things about the Jedi order. But, Ashoka finds out a bit more about the readers kind and tells him her stories of when she once met a planet full of dark fey, creatures that the reader thought have gone extinct making him think that he is the last of his kind.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, the child being all cute, backstory, Ashoka learning, just more angst.

—

—

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Said the Fey who walked next to the Mandalorian. The two were walking through the dead forest, jumping over fallen logs and going under trees in order to continue following the path that lead them to the Jedi. Back in town they have met with the Matriarch, a women that was in charge of the town and had offered them a spear of beskar in exchange to take down the Jedi. At first, y/n thought that din was going to refuse the offer, knowing that they needed the Jedi alive due to the child needing a proper teacher. But of course, Din being a Mandalorian, couldn’t refuse the offer. Which lead them to tracking down the jedi thorugh the dead forest.

“I already told you—“ Din turns to face the Fey. “I’m not going to kill her, I’m going to get her attention and make sure that she helps us with the kid. I just need to find her, that’s all.” He repeats. He’s already explained Y/n his plan, telling him that he woulnd’t do anything to hurt the Jedi and to only ask for their help and hand the kid over to them.

Y/n sighs deeply as he gives the child a glimpse, who sat inside the bag that Din had found for the kid. “I know but I can’t help but get a bad feeling about this.” He mumbles out as Din stops in his tracks and removes the kid from the bag, setting him down with a sigh. “Will be fine.” Din tells him and nods towards the kid. “Stay with him, I’m going to check out the area and see if I can find anything.” Y/n nods at the Mandalorian and adjusts his cape, using it to hide his wings from prying eyes. He’s never liked it when others took notice of his wings, they were precious to him and being a Dark fey was risky, he was the last of his kind and he couldn’t allow anyone to know who he was.

The fey can’t help but pout as he stands next to the child and reaches out to stroke one of its long ears. Keeping him distracted with a small smile. Before he could even say anything he hears the sound of sabers and beskar clashing against eachother.

The dark feys eyes widen as he sees the Jedi and Din fighting with each other, stepping in front of the child to protect him he bares his fangs at the Jedi until Din calls out her name. Causing the two to stop fighting with each other. Din Is quick to tell her that they were sent by bo-Katan and how they have searching for her.

The Jedi, known as Ahsoka, gives the couple a look before she eyes the dark fey that stood over the child. She’s quick to drop her guard and puts away her lightsabers. “I hope it’s about him.” She says as din turns around to see y/n glaring at the Jedi, he gives him a small nod as of saying that everything was okay.

Y/n’s wings slowly drop behind him as he too drops his guard and exposes the child to the Jedi. The two approach him as ahsoka smiles a little, “Hello.” She coos out to the child who returns her greeting with a squeak.

—

Y/n watches Din pace back and forth as the Mandalorian eyes the Jedi and the child from a distance. He was becoming nervous and anxious, not knowing what to expect from Ahsoka. The fey was standing by a tree, leaning back against it as he sighs. “Din, stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” Din snaps back at his partner of four years. The two have known each other for awhile now and it wasn’t strange for y/n to see Din acting this way, he knows that he’s grown attached to the kid and how much he loves him. But things change and they were tasked to bring him to a Jedi.

Y/n slowly gets irritated by Dins pacing, he knows that he’s acting like a worried father but he can’t help but get a little annoyed. “Din.” He approaches the Mandalorian and reaches out to touch his hand, finally getting Dins attention as he stops pacing.

“It’s going to be okay, whatever Ahsoka is doing she’ll tell us.” He whispers to Din, hearing the other sigh deeply as he looks away. Y/n grows upset as he gently places a hand on one side of the helmet and pulls him back to face him. Without saying a word he leans forward to press their foreheads together. A small tradition that both mandalorians and Dark fey have in common. “It’s okay.” He croaks out this time as Din relaxes under his touch and nods.

As the two pull away, they don’t notice Ahsoka approaching them with the child in her arms. She gives the two a small smile as she sets the lamp down between them and the child in a rock. She sits next to him and sighs.

Din is the first to break the silence. “Can you—Can you understand him?” He asks.

Ahsoka sits up straight and nods. “In a way,” she turns to face the child. “Grogu and I can communicate through the force, giving us the ability to speak with eachother.”

“Grogu?” Both Din and y/n say.

The sudden name call causes the child to perk up, looking over at his parents as he coos out.

Y/n noticed the kids reaction and smirks. “Grogu.” He repeats and again the child’s ears perk up and his eyes widen with joy.

Ahsoka watches the Dark fey kneel down at the child’s level and stroke his long ears as Din sits across from her. She takes this time to explain to him about Grogu; where he’s from and how the Jedi order had fallen during the clone wars. She also tells him about the previous master that was the same species as Grogu that she once knew. Once she’s done explaining the notices the child falling asleep which makes her smile a little. “I’ll train him in the morning, for now we rest.”

Din can only nod as he stands up and takes the kid with him, wrapping him up in his cloak as he heads towards a spot that was comfortable for them to sleep. As y/n rises from the ground he hears Ahsoka ask. “You’re a Dark fey.”

Y/n turns around to see her approach him. “I once met a fey, back when I was still in training.” She says. The feys eyes can only widen in relazation. “You’ve met a fey before?” He asks.

Ahsoka nods her head. “Of course, back when I still training with my masters we once crashed into their home planet. We’ve never heard about their species or where they came from, they were unknown to the rest of the worlds.” She explains. “The ones I met were Aster; the chief of his people and Neela the chiefs wife. She too was a force sensitive but their people didn’t know much about the force so they simply called her, ‘the special one’.”

Y/n is shocked by her words. Have their been Fey around this whole time? Was he not the only one? Could it be possible for him to visit this planet? He had so many questions to ask.

“What—what were they like?” He stutters out, licking his lips as he grips his cloak.

Ahsoka smiles as she nods towards the stump, offering him to sit as she continues to talk about this planet that she once knew.

“The Dark fey were very traditional people and kind. They welcomed us very quickly and taught us their traditions.” She continues on as y/n sits down to listen. “Aster, the chief, had a son who became very close to one of my masters.” She chuckles at the fond memory of her Master Obi-wan.

“Dark fey have this traditions when it comes to finding loved ones,” she says. “Theirs was a dance a very special dance—“ she glanced over at the Mandalorian who was sleeping against a tree with Grogu tucked underneath his arm. “By any chance are you and the Mandalorian together?”

Y/n’s face flushes red as he clears his throat, reaching up to run the back of his neck nervously. “We’ve been bonded together for awhile now.” He shyly looks away from her piercing blue eyes. “Why do you ask?”

Ahsoka hums. “While I was speaking to the child, he told me about you both and how much of a strong connection you have with the Mandalorian.” She adjusts her own cape. “Grogu really cares about you both, he sees you as his family. As parents.” Her eyes sadden at the realization.

Y/n is quick to notice the change of mood, sitting up straight he feels his wings twitch again. “Is that a good thing?” He suddenly grows anxious.

“In your way, yes. But in the Jedi way, it is forbidden.” She sighs out. “In order to become a Jedi you have to avoid attachments. My old Master...he could’ve easily fallen away from the order the day the Chiefs son proposed to him. My master was oblivious during that time and had no idea that the fey was proposing, I could sense his happiness of just being around your people and around him too but—“ she frowns. “He was a selfish fool who only thought about putting his order first before him.” This was the first time that she actually spoke ill about her master. She knew how much Obi-Wan cared and loved the man, she remembers the presents Obi-wan would receive from the fey and how happy he was to just have a small stone given to him. She knew he was happy and she wanted him to stay on that planet with him. But, she can only watch as her master broke the feys heart and telling him that he couldn’t have these attachments. For the first time she felt upset towards her master, upset that he wouldn’t put his own happiness first.

“But, Grogu needs your help.” Y/n whispers out.

“I know he does, but I can’t train him. I can’t lead him down a dark path.” Ahsoka’ voice grows into a small whisper. She knows how much the child means to them and separating him from his family can only upset Grogu and the fear that he holds can easily take him down a dark path, something she can’t bare to see again.

Y/n bites his lip, looking over his shoulder to see his partner and Grogu resting with each other. “Their is another way.” He turns his attention back to Ahsoka. “I can try and train him in the morning but if the child refuses to listen then your second option will be to take him to a Jedi temple. There he will decide his path.”

Y/n heaves out a deep sigh and nods. “Okay.” He says softly as Ahsoka places her hand on his shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “Get some rest.” She adds and stands from her spot.

Before she could find her own place to sleep she is stopped by y/n. “The Dark fey, you said their was a planet full of them—do you know where?” He asks desperate to know.

Ahsoka gives him a confused look. “I thought you were from there.”

Y/n shakes his head. “I don’t remember my parents or their names.” He was still a child when he found out that he was the only fey. “I was sold into slavery, passed down by many different masters. I was treated like any other; punished, neglected, sometimes they would tear my feathers away.”

Ahsoka gasps. “A feys wings are considered precious to them and no one is to touch them unless given permission too.” She is shocked to know about this.

“A feys wings are senstive as a child that was my punishment. I didn’t learn how to fly until I got older, but before anything else the mandalorians saved me—“ he looks towards Din and smiles. “Din and I were kids. He was my first friend, my first everything.” He blushes. “We grew up together, I didn’t take the creed due to me being a fey. I wanted to know more about my kind and see if I could find anyone that knew about us but, I never succeed.” He remembers spending his years doing research about the fey, only finding few books and holos about his kind. He remembers annoying the Armorer to let him go search around the area and see if could find just one hint of information about his own people. But in the end he found nothing and accept his fate of being the last one.

But now, now he’s found someone that has met, not just one, but a whole planet full of them and he’s desperate to know where this planet is located.

“I want to see more fey, I want to see my people.” He pleads out. “Please, anything you have can help me.” He looks into her blue eyes, giving her a pleading look.

Ahsoka Can sense his emotions; anger, sadness, joy, relief. She gives off a sad sigh, reaching under her cloak she pulls out a holo. Showing it to y/n. “Before we left I made sure to gather as much information as I could about the Dark fey. Their elders trusted me with this information and allowed me to add their coordinates if we were to ever visit again.” Her fingers graze over the holo before giving it a soft squeeze and handing it over to y/n.

“Take it and go find yourself a place that you can call home.”

Y/ns heart beats loudly as he eyes the holo in Ahsokas hand. Nervously he takes it into his own and bites his lip, holding back tears of joy. “Thank you.”

Ahsoka nods. “You’re welcome.” Smiling at the fey she nudges him towards the Mandalorian. “Best for you to rest, tomorrow we train Grogu.” Y/n sniff and clears his throat. “Right.” He agrees with her and puts away the holo into his own pocket. Turning around he heads towards Din and Grogu, quietly removing his own cape as he drapes it over the two. He sits down next to him and leans his head against Dins shoulder, his wings stretching out and wrapping themselves around his small family and smiles.

[badbadbucky]

The Haunted Haunted House

The little girl, Magda, looked at the little boy, Billy, skeptically. “What do you mean you’ve never been to a haunted house?”

The two children sat together on Magda’s bed. Billy wore a cowboy costume. Magda wore a cat costume. They were waiting for Magda’s mom.

“My mama said I wasn’t allowed to go. They had one a couple towns over, in Gerda, and my friend Georgie, his daddy took him and he said it was real scary,” Billy said. 

“But this is a haunted house,” Magda said.

Billy looked at her like she was stupid. “No it ain’t, it’s just got ghosts in it.”  Billy knew a little something about Halloween. Halloween had always been his favorite holiday. Before… he’d always stayed up until the small hours of the morning, and not just because he was buzzing off sugar, but because he didn’t want it to be over. 

For the first few months her family had lived in the big old mansion Magda had been terrified, but Billy had shown her that all the ghosts were actually nice, even if they did look scary sometimes (or all the time in Starla’s case). 

“Haunted houses got like rattlin’ coffins, and guys in costumes jump out at ya, and there’s spiders and blood and skeletons everywhere. That’s a real haunted house,” Billy said. 

Magda didn’t argue with Billy, sometimes she thought that even though she was younger than Billy--he was eight and she was six--sometimes she just understood things better. He always seemed a lot younger than he actually was. She didn’t know if it was a product of being dead, or if kids were just more innocent in the 50’s. 

“That was the year though,” Billy said. He played with the fringe on his satin shirt with the pearl snaps. 

“The year what?” Magda asked. 

“My daddy said he was gonna take me. Got tired of me askin’ probably. It was Halloween, and I was waiting for him to get home then we was gonna drive to Gerda. I was practicing twirling my toy gun. I dropped it. And it broke. And a cowboy couldn’t have an empty holster right?” He dropped his head so that the low brim of his cowboy hat--that he never took off--blocked his eyes. 

Magda reached out and laid her hand over his. It phased right through, but he said that he could still sort of feel it. 

“My daddy’s gun was a lot heavier than my toy one. I didn’t expect it to be so heavy,” Billy trailed off. He glanced up at her and wiped away a few tears. “I really woulda liked to go the haunted house.” Then he disappeared. 

Magda looked around. “Billy? Billy?”

Billy didn’t answer and he didn’t reappear.   

“Ms. Elizabeth?” Magda called.

A stately woman in a maroon gown appeared, a slash across her throat continuously dripped blood down her front. She had dark hair and dark sad eyes. “What is it Magda?”

“Billy’s upset.”

“It is a rather hard day for him,” Ms. Elizabeth said. 

The little girl told the ghost her plan. And then the ghost set about her preparations, while the girl set about her own. 

When the girl got home from trick or treating she ran straight up to her room. 

“Are you there?” She whispered. 

Ms. Elizabeth appeared. “All is ready, Ms. Magda.” She smiled down at the little girl. She held out her velvet gloved hand and very nearly touched Magda’s cheek. 

Magda could feel a cool soft whisper on her cheek. 

Then Ms. Elizabeth removed her hand. “Find Billy, I have to get into place.” 

Magda nodded. She walked out to the hallway and to the staircase that led to the attic. When she reached the top of the stairs, she called out “Billy?”

She heard a sniffle coming from behind an old painting of Ms. Elizabeth in a gilded frame. Magda walked toward the sound. The floor creaked underneath her. Magda stuck her head around the painting and found Billy sitting on the floor, curled up, with his arms around his knees. His hat sat on the floor beside him. “Billy is that you?” 

When Billy heard her voice he snatched his hat off the floor and jammed it on his head, though too late to prevent Magda from seeing the small neat hole in the middle of his forehead. Though, because Billy was her friend, she pretended that she hadn’t seen it. 

Instead, she said, “I have a surprise for you.” 

“What is it?” Billy asked. He wiped at his eyes rapidly, cowboys didn’t cry.

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore dummy. Come on.” Magda said. She swiped at him, and through him several times, since she couldn’t actually pull him to his feet.

Billy climbed to his feet. He never could resist a surprise. 

They climbed down the stairs from the attic and went to the main entranceway in the house. Magda’s gaze slid around, it seemed that everyone and everything was ready. She positioned herself and Billy in the very center of the room. 

Ms. Elizabeth emerged from the shadows. In addition to her customary velvet gown, she wore a cheap black cape, she’d painted fake blood around her mouth, and she wore plastic fangs. The ghosts who were older were better at interacting with physical objects.

“Velcome travelers,” Ms. Elizabeth said, in her best approximation of Magda’s best approximation of a Dracula voice, “Velcome to my home.”

“What’s going on?” Billy asked.

Magda shushed him and pointed at Ms. Elizabeth.

Ms. Elizabeth continued, “I exp-, I exp-” she struggled to speak around the fangs,  “Heaven’s sake.” She removed the fangs. “I expect that you’ll want a tour. So I shall show you around. But be warned, my friends are in town. And some people find them quite...frightening.”

The lights flickered and there was a great crash of thunder. 

Billy jumped.

Magda shot her mom, who was hiding under the stairs operating a sound machine and a dimmer switch, a thumbs up, she’d hit her cue perfectly. 

Ms. Elizabeth walked out of the entranceway and Billy and Magda followed. She led the two children toward the massive kitchen. And there stood Old Man Gibbons at the stove, stirring a bubbling cauldron of green muck. His face was painted green and he wore a ratty wig with long black hair and a pointy black hat. He cackled as he stirred.The witch costume did a marvelous job of hiding that Old Man Gibbons’ legs were nothing more than bloody stumps. He’d been the groundskeeper on the estate and had a terrible accident with a tractor.  A stuffed black cat sat on the counter behind him.

“Ah, here we have my old friend Hilda. And what diabolical potion are you making Hilda?” Ms. Elizabeth said, maintaining the Dracula accent. 

“Hehehehehe, this potion turns little boys into little mice! Ahahahaha!” Old Man Gibbons said. He lifted a spoonful of the “potion” toward Billy’s lips. “Want a taste?” 

Billy leapt backward, “no!” he squeaked. 

“Perhaps later, Hilda,” Ms. Elizabeth said. “We have many more rooms to visit.”

“Hilda” cackled. “Let me know if you get thirsty.  I could use a nice fat mouse to feed my cat, HEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”

Billy and Magda hustled out of the kitchen and followed Ms. Elizabeth to the dining room 

Tomas stood behind the long banquet style table, dressed in a white labcoat. Lucindra lay on top of the table, under a sheet. 

“Victor,” Ms. Elizabeth drawled, “you said you would show me your latest creation.”

Tomas nodded eagerly. “Ooooh yes, she’s nearly ready.” He rubbed his hands together in manic glee. “Igor! It. Is. TIME!”

“Yes, master,” a voice rasped from right behind Magda and Billy. 

Billy let out a little shriek and turned around. 

Stuart, the devastatingly handsome senator’s son with the rope burn around his neck, had sneaked up behind them. He lurched and staggered toward Tomas and handed him what looked suspiciously like salad tongs. Then he dragged his leg behind him until he reached the light switch. 

Tomas placed the salad tongs on either side of Lucindra’s head. “Give me power Igor!”

“Yes, Master,” Stuart said as he flickered the lights. 

Lucindra thrashed under the sheet.

It had taken some convincing, and a private threat of grounding from their mother, but eventually even Magda’s brother Todd had agreed to help. He was under the table, making electricity noises with his mouth and rocking the table occasionally. 

 Billy took a step behind Magda, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.

“MORE!” Tomas screamed. 

“Yes, Master,” Stuart grunted. He flickered the lights more.

Lucindra flailed, occasionally the sheet would flip off her face and Tomas would quickly pull the sheet back over to conceal her face. It was not yet time for the big reveal. 

“MORE POWER IGOR!” Tomas yelled, his eyes rolling madly in his skull.

“But Master--” Stuart began. 

“NOW!!!!”

Stuart turned off the lights, plunging everything into darkness. Then he turned on a black light. The sheet over Lucindra glowed an otherworldly white. As did Tomas’s labcoat as he danced around the table. 

Todd deployed the fog machine. Tendrils of fog curled out from under the table. Billy was too entranced to hear Todd’s muffled coughing and choking. 

Slowly, Lucindra raised her shaking arms. 

“It’s alive,” Tomas howled. “It’s alive, it’s alive.” 

Tomas whipped the sheet off of Lucindra revealing her face. The blacklight made the paint on her face glow demonically. She hissed at Magda and Billy. Billy gave out a little yip and even Magda jumped a bit. 

Magda and Billy ran back out into the hallway, giggling. Stuart and Ms. Elizabeth shared a soft smile. 

Todd climbed out from under the table, he rolled his eyes at the two ghosts making googoo eyes at each other. According to Chrissy, these two had apparently been doing this dance since at least the 80’s. He stomped out of the dining room and yelled up the stairs “Okay mom, I helped. Can I go now?” He had a date with Becky Sherman, and she’d told him that he was really going to love her costume. 

Ms. Elizabeth led the kids up the stairs to the long hallway where all the guest bedrooms were. The hallway was strung with fake cobwebs everywhere. Magda got caught in them while Billy easily phased right through them. They reached the end of the hallway and Ms. Elizabeth held the door open for the two children. 

In the middle of the room there was a sarcophagus, which was really a trunk from the attic that Magda had decorated with hieroglyphics. The lid rattled ominously. 

Magda’s father, dressed as Indiana Jones, ran up behind them. “You better get outta here kids. The mummy inside will curse anyone who looks at him, and he’s waking up!” 

But before the kids could turn back, the door slammed in their faces. Magda tried the door. Ms. Elizabeth held it closed. 

“We’re trapped!” Magda yelled to Billy.

“What do we do?” Billy asked.

The lid of the sarcophagus flopped open. Bandaged arms gripped the sides. 

Billy and Magda huddled together. Though Magda wasn’t scared. Of course not. But maybe she’d huddle a bit closer to Billy, just to make him feel better. 

The mummy, really Chrissy wrapped head to toe in bandages, rose from the trunk. He moaned and groaned dramatically.  

“Don’t look!” Magda’s dad yelled. He stood in front of the kids. “Squeeze your eyes shut.”

Magda and Billy both squeezed their eyes shut. Then, Magda’s father gave a great yell and flopped to the ground. Then the only sound was the mummy shuffling toward the kids.

Billy and Magda couldn’t stand to keep their eyes closed anymore. They looked down and saw Magda’s father lying frozen on the ground, his face wrenched into an exaggerated rictus of pain. Billy and Magda both gave little shrieks. 

When they looked up, the mummy was no longer shuffling toward them, they twisted around to see where the mummy had gone, when suddenly he appeared right behind them and grabbed Billy’s shoulders. Billy screamed and jerked away from the mummy, then laughed shrilly. 

Ms. Elizabeth opened the door and took the kids back down stairs to the conservatory. Magda’s mother had transferred the fog machine to the conservatory and it had been filling with smoke while the kids were upstairs. Wisps of smoke hovered around the bases of the trees, turning the bright cheery room into a haunted forest. 

Billy and Magda hesitantly entered the room. Ms. Elizabeth disappeared into the fog and so the two children were left alone. They walked between the trees.

Magda jumped when she heard a bird chirp, and Billy gave out a faint scream when he’d mistaken a potted tree for a figure coming for them. 

A figure whooshed past them. The kids turned to see what it was, but it was too fast. Then something went by again, and Billy was able to catch the flapping tail of a sheet. 

“There!” He pointed to the center of the conservatory. “It went that way!”

The kids chased after the figure, laughing. They almost caught up with the figure, but then lost it again. They found a small area that was largely cleared of the fog. 

The figure was hiding--very poorly--behind a tree.

“We see you!” Magda called.

“Yeah, we see you,” Billy said. 

The figure, dressed in a sheet with eye holes cut into it that had been nearly bleached white over the years, but still had the faintest hint of a floral pattern, stepped out from behind the tree.  The very spooky ghost, Starla, raised her arms over her head and the sheet dropped back a bit, revealing her blackened flesh. She wiggled her burnt red fingers. “Oooooooooooo.”

Billy giggled. “You’re not scary.”

The sheet twitched a bit, as Starla smiled to herself.  She liked the idea of not being scary, if only for a time. 

Ms. Elizabeth returned, and she’d put the fake fangs back in. “I hope you enjoyed our little tour. Because you can never leave.” She lunged forward with her fangs bared. 

Both of the children screamed and ran out of the conservatory.

 Ms. Elizabeth reached out and squeezed Starla’s hand. “Well done, darling.”

Magda pulled Billy up to her bedroom. They jumped into her bed and threw the covers over their heads. Magda stuck her arm out of their blanket fortress only long enough to snag her flashlight off the floor. She turned it on, casting both their faces into sharp relief. 

“I think we’re safe,” Magda said.

Billy nodded. 

They sat in silence for a moment. 

“Did you like it?” Magda asked shyly. 

Billy answered by trying to throw his arms around her. He phased through, but she got the idea all the same. 

They lay down for a bit, but both of them were still wide awake. Their eyes slid towards each other.

“I can’t go to sleep,” Billy said. 

“Me neither, Magda said. 

They sat, talking and laughing until 11 o’clock, when Magda’s mother stumbled in and told them to go to bed. Then they huddled under the covers, whispering and giggling, until 2 in the morning, when Ms. Elizabeth appeared and told them in no uncertain terms that they must go to sleep “this very instant.”

It was only then, that Magda’s eyes finally began to flutter, and Billy found it harder to hold his form. Eventually Magda fell asleep and Billy went where all ghosts go when they are too tired to be visible anymore. For them,  Halloween was over.

[elizabethemerald]

The End of the Eldritch Queen

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”  Request by Anon

Morgana stumbled through the streets, bouncing off the smoking wrecks of cars as she raced. A distant explosion caused her to trip, knocking her helmet off. She picked herself up and glanced at the fallen helmet, then shook her head and hurried on, her long red hair in its tight curls cascading down her back. 

A squad of human soldiers, their green energy weapons in their hands passed as she hid behind what had once been a taco truck. When they were gone she hurried forward. Her armor dragged at her limbs slowing her. 

Overhead the sun was almost blotted out with the smoke from the many fires. Most of Arcadia was burning as the pitched battle raged in the streets. She hurried on desperate to get away from the fighting. 

Finally Morgana found what she was looking for and she stopped dead in horror. The house on the side of the cul-de-sac was engulfed in flames. She could distantly hear the sound of the crying familiars over the roaring flames. 

Morgana concentrated for a second then jumped into the air. A blast of wind, strong as a hurricane picked her up and threw her through the front window. The wind roared through the house extinguishing the flames. 

She picked herself and realized her long green cape had frayed and unraveled, shortening to about half its length. Her emerald hand cracked, small pieces falling off it. 

She whirled at a sound on the steps, and almost fell over in relief. Barbara walked quickly down the steps. She had a mask over her face and her hair carefully tied back. Her singed and soot covered clothes showed she had been trying to fight the flames consuming her house. 

"What are you still doing here?" Morgana cried, dust and ash choking her. 

"You're crazier than I thought if you think I would abandon the babies in my care!" Barbara shouted back. "I need to get them out of the house and away from Arcadia!"

"How many are left?" Morgana wanted to scream her frustrations at this woman, but she knew that wouldn't help. 

"More than I can carry." Barbara turned and lead the way back upstairs. Morgana followed close behind to the nursery. There were more babies left than either of them could carry, unless… 

Morgana grabbed the empty cradle stone from where it sat in the room. Her old master was a fool but the magic he made worked. She breathed deeply and poured some of her magic into the cradle stone. The gold talons on her fingers shattered and crumbled to dust, but the baby's turned into light and were absorbed by the stone. She quickly handed the stone to Barbara then turned to go back downstairs. 

As they reached the bottom step there was a distant explosion and Morgana instinctively put her body in front of Barbara's. The Trollhunter was blasted into the house destroying what little furniture the fire had left. 

"Jim!" Barbara screamed and ran up to him. 

Morgana watched as the amulet forged from her hand began to flash duly, a slight ticking noise could be heard from it. She had killed enough Trollhunters to know Jim's time was running out. She glared, if he died Barbara would never be convinced to get to safety. 

"Your fight is not over yet, Trollhunter!" Morgana shouted grabbing his amulet. She shrieked in pain as her magic flooded into the half troll. His wounds were filled with liquid gold and the Amulet and armor shone brightly with a golden light. 

She stumbled back, trying to hide her pain as Jim stood up with a roar. He leaped out the front window and bounded back into the fight. Morgana grasp her stump with her other hand. Her stone hand had crumbled and dissolved into smoke, her cape and the armor on her forearms went with it. Barbara helped her stand up with an odd look and together they walked out of the house. 

The two women make their way quickly through the woods they are almost to the canals when Aaarrrgghh runs up to them. Toby lands nearby with his Warhammer. 

“Dr. L! What are you doing with her?” Toby said, waving his hammer at Morgana. 

“She’s no threat any more. Toby here.” Barbara handed the cradle stone to him. “I need you to get the rest of the familiars away from the fighting.”

Toby hesitated, looking between Barbara and Morgana for a few seconds, but the look on Barbara’s face brooked no argument. 

“Fine, come on Aaarrrgghh, we’ll protect the babies!” Toby grabbed the cradle stone and took off with his hammer. The massive troll followed behind him on the ground. 

Once they were gone, Barbara turned and hurried towards the city. Morgana growled out her frustration. 

“You’ve gotten the babies in your care to safety, now why are you returning to the fighting?”

Barbara turned and looked at her. “You ask me that after all the months you spent in my house? I’m doctor. I’m going to be where the hurting people are and I’m going to take care of them, just like I did with you.”

Morgana had nothing to say to that. The doctor’s care had been all that kept death at bay for the former Eldritch Queen, after her injury. Barbara strode on, heading towards the smoke. 

“You don’t have to come with me, but don’t try and stop me.” She said as she walked. Morgana hurried after her. 

She was glad she had come when a second later a massive explosion tore through the city streets. She jumped in front of Barbara and put her arms out. A golden wall appeared out of the air surrounding the two of them. 

The explosion tore past them leaving them unscathed. Morgana immediately collapsed to her hand and knees. Her golden armor shattered and crumbled to dust. She panted heavily as her armor disappeared completely, leaving just a simple dress behind. Barbara was immediately at her side. 

“What is this? What’s happening to you?” She asked.

“My magic is gone.” Morgana said, her voice breaking, and fat tears falling from her eyes. “I came back when the other wizards surfaced, I thought for sure now was my time to reclaim my title of Queen of Magic. And the girl... “

A wave of purple fire washed past them and the girl in question blasted into their view. Claire’s hair was wild around her head, purple magic eddying off her in waves, and flames and bolts. Her eyes were pure purple and power radiated off her. 

“YOU!” She screamed as she sighted Morgana. Purple magic appeared at her fists. 

“You already took my magic, what more could you want from me?” Morgana whispered, tears still falling from her face. 

“You possessed me! Tried to destroy my soul! Tried to kill the love of my life! I should destroy you for that!” Claire’s voice shook and trembled in the air, boring into their ears. 

Barbara jumped up and stood in front of the woman on the ground. She faced Claire boldly even as the streets started to melt under her from her power. 

“She can’t hurt you any more! You’ve won this battle, but the rest of Arcadia still needs your help.”

“You would side with this WITCH?” Claire’s voice shattered the remaining windows of the nearby cars and buildings. 

“Claire I’m not siding with anyone. I’m not asking you to forgive her. But until Arcadia is safe, just let her live.”

Claire’s eyes dimmed and the purple light faded from them. Morgana could suddenly see the same young girl from a few years ago. The same one who had opened a massive portal to save Trollmarket, allowing her release. Claire turned away without another word, flying toward the center of town where an emerald blast had just gone off.  In that moment Morgana mentally handed over her title, Claire was the new Eldritch Queen. The girl had won the battle of wills earlier that day, siphoned off all her power, but now Morgana surrendered her claim to it. The old Eldritch Queen was gone. She collapsed fully onto the ground. 

Barbara turned around faced her as a squadron of Akiridion fighter soared by over head. She knelt down beside Morgana, trying to help her rise. 

“Come on, let’s get you up.” 

“Why do you care about me? Just leave me here to die. Without my magic I’m useless.”

“Am I useless?” Barbara asked quietly. Morgana could only look at her in confusion. “I have no magic, never had any magic, does that make me useless?”

Morgana slowly shook her head and allowed the doctor to help her to feet. She braced herself against the other woman, and took a few unsteady steps. 

“But I can’t even defend myself.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” Barbara said. “Now come on, I’m going to need an assistant to help me save lives.”

The two women struggled through the torn up streets searching and caring for any citizens they came across. Morgana became more steady on her feet as they worked. She helped Barbara in any way she could. Applying pressure to a wound, removing clothing, holding a light while the other woman worked her healing. 

Eventually a beam of purple energy shattered an emerald shield. Jim and Akiridion Queen jumped together and finished the war of wizards with their weapons. The trolls, humans, wizards and Akiridions all cheered, peace could finally return to the small town of Arcadia. And still two women, with flaming red hair toiled to prevent further losses.

[mocaregreensolutions]

Top 5 Tips for Effective Tree Care: Ensuring Safety and Sustainability

Taking good care of trees has never been more crucial in the modern world, where safety and environmental preservation are top priorities. In addition to adding to the beauty of our surroundings, trees are essential for preserving ecological balance and fostering a healthy atmosphere. As a property manager, business owner, or homeowner, you should place a high premium on maintaining the sustainability and safety of your trees. We'll go over five crucial suggestions for efficient tree care in this blog post, which will enable you to keep your trees safe, beautiful, and healthy for many years to come.

Regular Tree Inspections

Regular tree inspections are crucial for identifying potential hazards and addressing issues before they escalate. Schedule annual inspections by certified arborists to assess the health and structural integrity of your trees. Look for signs of disease, pest infestation, decay, or structural weaknesses that could pose a risk to property or people. Early detection and prompt action can prevent accidents and costly damage.

Tree Trimming and Pruning

Tree trimming and pruning are essential maintenance tasks that promote healthy growth and prevent potential hazards. Trim branches that are dead, diseased, or damaged to improve tree health and reduce the risk of falling limbs. Prune trees to maintain a safe distance from structures, power lines, and other obstructions. Regular pruning also enhances air circulation and sunlight penetration, contributing to overall tree vitality.

Emergency Tree Care Preparedness

Be prepared for emergencies by having a plan in place for addressing sudden tree-related incidents. Identify Emergency Tree Care Services in your area that offer prompt response and reliable assistance. Ensure that contact information for emergency tree service providers is readily available, and familiarise yourself with proper safety protocols in case of a tree-related emergency. Quick action during emergencies can minimise damage and prevent injuries.

Sustainable Tree Care Practices

Adopt sustainable tree care practices to minimise environmental impact and promote long-term tree health. Use organic mulch to retain moisture, regulate soil temperature, and suppress weeds around tree bases. Avoid over-watering and use drought-tolerant tree species whenever possible to conserve water. Practise responsible fertilisation and pest management to minimise chemical usage and protect beneficial organisms.

Professional Tree Care Services

When in doubt, seek professional tree care services from certified arborists or reputable tree care companies. Professional tree care providers offer expertise, experience, and specialised equipment to address complex tree care needs safely and efficiently. Whether it's tree removal, tree trimming, or emergency tree services, entrusting the care of your trees to professionals ensures optimal results and peace of mind.

The Vital Role of Commercial Tree Services and Tree Maintenance

Sustaining the aesthetic appeal and safety of your property's trees is crucial in today's busy commercial landscape to establish a favourable atmosphere for business operations. Let’s see the role of a commercial tree services and tree maintenance:

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Final Thought

In conclusion, effective tree care is essential for ensuring safety, sustainability, and the long-term health of your trees. By following these top five tips for tree care, you can protect your property, promote environmental stewardship, and enjoy the beauty and benefits of healthy trees for generations to come. Remember, investing in proper tree care today yields invaluable rewards for the future.

At moCare Green Solutions, we offer comprehensive tree care services, including tree removal, tree trimming, and emergency tree care services, to help you maintain the safety and sustainability of your trees. Contact us today for professional tree care solutions tailored to your specific needs and goals.

[treefellingexpert]

Avail the most affordable Tree Prunning in Cape Town & Stump Removal in Cape Town services as our service team is guided by highly qualified contractors.

[aurorawest]

⭐️Can you please also do a director's commentary for "Foundations" chapter 3? Thank you for your commentary on ch. 2, that was fantastic btw, :D I love that chapter!!

Yes! Thanks for asking! Link to AO3.

I used to write such short chapters, haha. This one is under 2500 words! I talked a bit when I did chapter 2 about why I wrote Foundations. Chapter 3 was actually the first chapter I wrote. It was The Scene (you know, the one you see in your head that’s the whole reason for writing the thing in the first place) for this fic, but when I write, I usually write The Scene first, haha.

Loki shifted in his camp bed, reaching up to pull the orb of light floating next to him closer before he turned the page of his book. Wind rattled the walls of the tent, but the storm outside wasn’t enough to drown out the rising and falling swells of sound from the impromptu feast that had sprung up several tent rows over. 

I remember really struggling to get the atmosphere of the setting of this chapter...mainly because I didn’t really care that much, haha. I wanted to write a fraught conversation between Loki and Thor and what to you mean I need to describe where they are? Though I actually think it turned out well in the end.

He paused for a moment, listening, knowing the right thing to do—the expected thing to do—was to be there himself. Eating, drinking, bragging and inflating whatever deeds he’d accomplished in battle that day. And singing, apparently, if the sound he could hear was any indication—and if one was extremely generous with their definition of ‘singing.’

I don’t think I’d come up with my head canon yet that Loki hates to sing at this point.

They were on Alfheim, one of the Nine Realms, which was facing a minor insurrection; nothing that Asgard’s forces couldn’t put down in a week or two. 

Sneak peek! Alfheim features prominently in the sequel to The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy.

They’d been there three days and the tide of the war was already turning in their favor. Still, it had been a shock when the Bifrost had brought them there. Years ago, Mother had taken Loki and Thor to visit, and Loki had found the planet breathtaking. Asgard was beautiful, of course, the pinnacle of the Nine Realms, but the lacy architecture of Ljosalfgard and the forests twinkling with lights was captivating. Thor had wanted to capture a unicorn and ride it; 

I draw a lot of inspiration from the comics when I write about Alfheim, since we’ve only seen one very brief shot of it in the MCU. Ljosalfgard is the capital (Ljósálfar is Old Norse for Light Elves). Unicorns are native to Alfheim in the comics.

Mother had forbidden it, and added for good measure that if he was gored, he’d have to sit in bed for the duration of the trip and wouldn’t be allowed to have any fun.

The forests were nowhere to be seen now, though. Or the unicorns, for that matter, though during that long ago visit, neither Thor nor Loki had gotten anywhere near one, anyway. The rebel army was moving towards Ljosalfgard, burning everything as it went, and the tall, graceful trees that had fascinated Loki as a child were nothing but smoldering stumps now. Whole towns had been reduced to rubble, with the bodies of those who had been unable to flee lying amid the wreckage.

In the last such ruin they’d passed through, Loki had stopped to stare down into the face of a dead elf. Her legs were pinned under the collapsed wall of a building, crushed beyond repair, but what had killed her was the discharge weapon that had been fired into her stomach. Tarry blood, turning black as it dried, was spread around her. Not a quick death, or a painless one. He’d knelt down and closed her eyes, but he couldn’t do anything about the howl of pain that twisted the rest of her face.

I added this paragraph about the dead elf during editing, feeling that my description of war was too impersonal and sanitized. Since writing this, my body count in my fics has multiplied. Now I kind of look for excuses to describe corpses.

A crack of thunder brought him back to the present with a jolt. He realized he’d been staring at the same sentence on the page, reading it over and over again. 

Mood, Loki.

With a yawn, he closed the book and set it aside on the small, ornate table he’d carted to Alfheim from Asgard. 

My pocket dimension head canon wasn’t as well developed at this point. I was imagining the table physically being carried. I’ve actually always intended for this table to make an appearance in my fic again, like Loki chucked it in his pocket dimension and sort of forgot about it, but I try to limit the amount of Asgardian stuff he’s got in there for angst value, so I’ve never had it show up again.

The book was a treatise on astral projection, wherein the author theorized that with the proper source of power, the range of the projection could be amplified infinitely. 

I still think this is clever, haha. This is a reference to Infinity Stones! Specifically the scene in Avengers where Loki astral projects and talks to the Other. I head canon that Loki really can’t astral project very far (maybe, maybe, a mile or two), but that the Mind Stone allowed him to do so in that scene.

Interesting, but not the lightest reading after a day of battle. He’d brought other books—and been roundly mocked for it

Whether Loki was being mocked or teased is open to interpretation. He can’t see it as anything other than mocking, though.

—but his focus was shot to hel. Whatever he picked up, he’d only end up sitting with it open on his lap while his mind wandered.

At that moment, the tent flap burst open, letting in a spray of wind and rain. “It’s pissing down out there,” 

The fact that Loki and Thor both have English accents makes me desperately want to make them speak British English, but I don’t because they don’t in the movies. Sometimes, sometimes, I allow myself to throw something in.

Thor said, apparently to no one in particular, because when his eyes fell on Loki, he added, “Ah. I thought I’d find you hiding here.”

“I’m hardly hiding,” Loki said. “Anyway, I was tired.” He flicked his light orb higher and expanded it with a twist of his hand so that it illuminated more of the space. 

This is the first time I wrote about this spell of Loki’s, which I now use alllll the time. It’s one of my go-to spells for him. If you’ve followed me for any length of time you’ve probably seen me talk about this fic I have where Strange goes into Loki’s mind (still unposted)—this spell is actually a major part of one section of that fic.

Thor looked at it, shook his head a little, and switched on the lights on his side of their shared tent. “What?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow.

Generator? Asgardian tech? Who knows!

Glancing at him, Thor replied, “Tricks.”

Uh oh.

With a slight smile, Loki said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, brother, but one of my tricks prevented an axe from lodging in that thick skull of yours earlier.”

Thor snorted. “Not so tired that your wit’s dulled, I see.”

“Well, no. Never.”

Obviously, I try to capture the characters’ voices when I write, especially their dialogue, but I do it to the point where if there’s a kind of really distinctive delivery of a line, I’ll take that and turn it into almost like, a verbal tic? You know how you’ll catch yourself saying certain things a certain way, little phrases, that sort of thing? This is an intentional echo of Loki’s line in Avengers, where Thor says, “You think yourself above them,” and Loki responds, “Well yes.” I use this one all the time.

Removing the vambraces from his forearms, 

The amount of time that I have spent looking up what different pieces of armor are called, UGH. And I never remember. When I edit, I always have to double check. The only one I know for sure now is demi-gaunts because I use it so often, haha. Those are the things Loki wears on his hands in Ragnarok.

Thor chuckled, then said, “You should have joined us. No party is complete without your troublemaking.”

Loki put a hand over his heart, a grin twitching at his mouth. “I’m touched. I had no idea I was so appreciated.”

“That,” Thor said, “and the fact that Fandral couldn’t stop bragging about how many more rebels he slew than the both of us combined. I could’ve used your help knocking him down a peg or two.”

I wanted to show a few things here. One: Loki is used to Thor being dismissive about his magic, and he doesn’t actually dwell on it too much in conversation. Two: Thor’s attitude about Loki’s magic isn’t actually awful. He could certainly be nicer about it and have more respect for something that Loki is really good at it, but this isn’t something that Thor feels really affects their relationship. He’s mildly contemptuous, and he forgets immediately. And three: Thor enjoys Loki’s mischievous side. The two of them still have a decent relationship, though the cracks are showing.

“Mm. Sorry to disappoint you,” Loki said.

Thor snorted. Removing his cape and slinging it over a chair back, he asked, “What are you reading, anyway?”

With a glance at the book, Loki said, “I don’t think it would interest you.”

“I don’t think so either.” Thor smirked at him. “I’m just trying to show some interest in the things my little brother’s interested in.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Loki said, “Ah, I see. Mockery, then patronization. What a day.”

Thor chuckled and came over to pick up the book. “Astral projection,” he said, then looked at Loki. “You already know how to do this.”

Really trying to hammer (haha, pun intended) home the point that Loki is an extremely unreliable narrator. Thor asks Loki what he’s reading, then shows that he knows what Loki can do. And then:

Loki raised an eyebrow. It was always a surprise when Thor demonstrated that he knew what Loki was capable of. 

Yeah but, is it, Loki? Is it?

“You already know how to swing a sword, but you still train.”

“Hm.” Thor put the book down. “Once Father gives me Mjølnir, I won’t have to.”

Still pre-Mjølnir.

Right. Mjølnir. It had been heavily implied, when Father had sent them to quell the uprising on Alfheim, that the reward for success would be Mjølnir. For Thor, of course. For Loki, well, he supposed the reward was the satisfaction of a job well done. Once, when they’d been children, the two of them had snuck down to the weapons vault to see if they could lift the hammer. Thor hadn’t hesitated; he’d strutted up to it and yanked on its handle. It had come off its stone pedestal easily, and Thor had crowed and brandished it while Loki had stood there grinning.

Then, Thor had set it down and said, his face flushed with happiness, “You try it!”

Loki had reached for the handle. But he’d stopped, his arm outstretched, and closed his fingers around nothing but air before withdrawing his hand. What if he couldn’t? What if he wasn’t worthy? 

To this day, this bit hurts me. I find it so relatable. If you try, you might fail, so maybe it’s better to not even try? At least you won’t feel like a worthless failure that way. And on a broader character note, this is Loki as a child already feeling that he isn’t living up to expectations.

So he shook his head and had said, “Father will be angry if he finds out we came down here.”

This was a thin excuse to put off learning something about himself that he didn’t want to learn, but even at a young age, Loki had been all-too-cognizant of his own failings. Thor had looked crestfallen, which almost made him feel guilty enough to try lifting Mjølnir, despite his misgivings.

HE’S NOT THOR. This is something that I definitely address in my fic series, this idea that he’s not Thor, so he’ll never be good enough. And yes...it is something that he gets over. He stops worrying about the fact that he can’t lift Mjølnir. He begins to see the value in his way of doing things, and not in a defensive way, but in a way he’s actually proud of. He realizes he doesn’t need to be Thor because he’s Loki.

But this is waaaaaay before that, haha.

Almost.

Rain beat on the tent, which luckily was imbued with enough Asgardian technology to keep all of it outside. Winter on Alfheim, at least in this hemisphere. If the blood didn’t turn the battlefields to mud, the rain would. Loki glanced up, his brow furrowed, as thunder rumbled and a gust of wind made the canvas billow like a sail. “The weather could be better.”

“If it doesn’t stop, it will just make the battle more glorious,” Thor said.

Smirking, Loki said, “I think I find dry clothing more glorious than battle.”

Thor shook his head at Loki, looking like someone had just told a wonderful joke, but only he was in on it. “You enjoy it, admit it. You can pretend you’re above it all you like, but I see it in your eyes.” He paused, clearly wanting his punchline, or thesis, or whatever this was, to really land. “That’s the rage of battle, brother.”

This was the first bit of dialogue I thought of for this fic. I remember it coming to me while I was sitting in bed one night.

Loki somehow hadn’t expected that. Taken aback and hoping it wasn’t showing, he said, “You’re mistaken.”

[...] Thor chuckled and laid down, his hands laced under his head, but Loki remained sitting, staring at the opposite wall of the tent and fidgeting with his hands. The rage of battle. Ridiculous. If there was one thing that Loki was good at, it was not letting his emotions get away from him. 

OOF. If you thought to yourself while reading this, That doesn’t sound like the Loki I know, then you are correct! Frigga has that line in TDW where she says, “So perceptive about everyone but yourself,” and that line is one of my guiding stars for writing Loki. He’s very, very good at reading other people...but terrible at knowing his own mind. And then his read of what other people think of him gets filtered through his skewed perception of himself.

Anyway, I very much believe that Loki is horrible about keeping his emotions in check. He absolutely, when agitated, thinks entirely with his heart and not at all with his head. Here’s the thing...

He was as collected in battle as he was any other time. 

He wants to be a Good Asgardian. So in his mind, it’s controlling your emotions in battle that’s important. Other times? Not so much. As long as he does it in battle, nothing else matters. And Loki is very good about keeping his head in battle. He’s an amazing warrior, just as good as any other Asgardian.

To lose your head was to invite costly mistakes. Absently, he ran his thumbnail over his other fingernails. He feared losing himself, anyway. Sometimes he thought it would be all too easy, when he wasn’t always sure who he was to begin with.

This is one of the core elements of Loki’s character to me. He doesn’t know who he is. He fears a loss of control. I absolutely keep these things in my head at all times when writing him. These things affect everything in his life and hold him back from things he wants. Love? That’s a loss of control.

“You’re quiet, brother,” Thor said.

Loki glanced over at him. “Just thinking.”

“You think too much.”

“Possibly.”

Another intentional movie dialogue echo. “Are you mad?” “Possibly.”

Propping himself up on his elbow and facing Loki, Thor said, “This is war, Loki. You get up, you slay the enemy, you drink, you feast, and then you go to bed so you can do it all over again the next day. There’s nothing to think about.”

Life was definitely simpler for Thor back in the day.

With a slight smile and a mirthless exhalation of laughter, Loki said, “I’m not like you, Thor.”

“Really? That’s so shocking, whatever could you be talking about?”

Loki gave his brother a sidelong look. Once in a while, Thor displayed a snideness that came directly from Mother. While Loki was truly their mother’s son, some of it was bound to rub off on Thor, too. 

I’ve never liked the idea that Thor is stupid, and I do like those moments where he’s sarcastic and clever. “I thought you liked tricks,” from TDW comes to mind, and obviously a lot in Ragnarok. Loki has a tendency to think in binaries. Father=Thor, Mother=Loki (in the sense that they take after their parents, not like, Loki is maternal). He has trouble seeing that Thor also takes after their mother...and he has even more trouble seeing how much like Odin he himself is.

“I don’t mind battle,” he said. “I’m perfectly happy fighting to protect Asgard and the Nine Realms. 

It’s really important to me to show that Loki isn’t squeamish about killing people, but also that he sees it as a duty.

But you know I’d rather be sitting by the water, reading a book.”

“The water” is what I’ve come to call the body of water that surrounds Asgard’s land mass. It’s not an ocean, it’s not a lake. Here, I’m literally just saying ‘sitting by the water’ the way you’d say that if you were like, sitting on a dock or on the beach or whatever, but since then it’s become my official name for it. I like the idea that Asgardians really do see themselves as superior, and this body of water sitting around their planet is The Water, like there’s no other water.

“Or causing mischief,” Thor said without missing a beat, which made Loki shrug in acknowledgment of this point. Thor stared at Loki for a minute, and then he said, “Perhaps you should…” But then he trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Perhaps I should what?” Loki asked, a sharp edge to his tone that he knew would put Thor on the defensive.

A flicker of irritation crossed Thor’s face. “Perhaps you should take greater pains to be more like a warrior. We’re Asgardians, Loki. We don’t hide in bushes and cast spells. We face the enemy head on.”

Aaaand there it is. Thor definitely feels this way, but he’s also more of a dick than he has to be, because Loki purposefully needled him—and Thor’s quickness to anger is one of his flaws.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “A dead rebel is a dead rebel. It doesn’t matter if I stood in front of him and ran him through with a sword or if I distracted him with an illusion while I threw a dagger through his windpipe.” Tilting his chin up, he said, “And I hardly ‘hide in the bushes.’ Don’t be insulting.”

“The men talk,” Thor said, still sounding prickly.

Loki is the one we think of as being the one who feels like he doesn’t fit in and as though he has to maintain an image of someone he isn’t...but I’m really partial to the idea that Thor feels the exact same way. The two of them have actually had this in common their entire lives, but they never talk about it or see this basic fact about each other. They’re both trying to live up to something, and it isn’t who either of them are.

Ah. So that was the issue. There Thor had been, just trying to get drunk with the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif while they compared body counts, and it had been interrupted by the troops questioning Loki’s prowess on the battlefield. Or perhaps even his commitment to the battle itself. What an inconvenience. How embarrassing. “Do they,” Loki said, his tone flat. “And do you defend me, brother? Or do you let them talk?”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Don’t start this.”

Does Thor not really answer the question because obviously he defends Loki, or because he doesn’t, and it embarrasses him? I left this purposefully ambiguous here. Loki certainly knows what he thinks.

Loki held up his hands, his eyes widening a little in an expression of sarcastic innocence. “I thought you started it. Didn’t you just tell me to stop hiding in the bushes?”

With a frustrated sigh, Thor said, “You take everything the wrong way.”

“Perhaps you should choose your words more carefully,” Loki shot back.

Their whole relationship, summed up in two lines.

For a long moment, Thor glared. Loki tried to return it with a look of cool haughtiness. Finally, Thor said, “Of course I defend you. But when even Hogun and Sif—”

At this, Loki’s mask dropped, he knew it did, and he knew that for a split second, the hurt showed on his face. Thor’s glare slipped as well and guilt flashed across his features. 

They’re so good at hurting each other. It’s exactly what they’re trying to do, and then they instantly regret it. But it doesn’t stop them from doing it again.

Well, Loki had just told him to choose his words more carefully. It would do his brother good to listen. Otherwise you ended up saying things that other people didn’t need to hear.

Loki snorted derisively, a hard twist of a smile on his face. “I see.” The fact that Sif was bad-mouthing him stung more than he cared to admit. His feelings towards her toed the line between platonic and something more on and off for years, though he knew he’d never stand a chance with her. 

Loki definitely had a thing for Sif for a long time. He’s being wishy-washy here.

Thor was her type. Blond, muscle-y, typical Asgardian male. 

Loki’s type, when it comes to men, certainly involves muscles, just not the like, bulging bodybuilder muscles.

Which made her just like everyone else. Loki held out his hand and snapped his fingers shut, and the orb of light hovering over him snuffed out.

“Loki—”

“Good-night, Thor,” he said, his voice tight. Anger and resentment coiled in the pit of his stomach like a viper, slithering up his spine to the base of his skull so that it sat there, an intrusive otherness scratching at his mind. 

Some purposeful snake imagery; and the use of ‘viper,’ which has connotations of treachery, was also deliberate.

As he laid down, he knew it would keep him awake, and that Thor probably wouldn’t be fooled by his stillness. He could cast an illusion, so that it looked like he was sleeping, and then leave his slumbering form here and roam the dark encampment, if he wanted to.

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to not feel like an outsider amongst his family and friends. He wanted ‘Asgardian’ to encompass his particular gifts too.

Loki is definitely arrogant about his abilities, which is an interesting thing to balance, since he’s also so deeply insecure. A lot of his bitterness comes from the fact that he knows he’s good at things, but they aren’t the right things. And even when they are the right things—like being great in battle—he doesn’t do it the ‘right’ way.

“Loki,” Thor said again.

He ignored his brother and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, Thor would have forgotten about this. Thor never had any trouble forgetting the things he said and did that wounded Loki. 

This is true. Thor thinks before he speaks, but he also puts more stock in actions than words. Loki is the opposite.

That was a gift, he supposed, his face twisting in the dark. A very particular gift to be able to let go of words that hurt, one which he both hated and longed to have. Of course, Thor didn’t need to remember hurtful words, because the only person who ever flung any of them at him were Loki himself, and very little that Loki said was worth remembering in the eyes of his family and friends.

This is not true. Loki is being an unreliable narrator.

Fine. Thor would forget. Loki would try to, as well.

Thank you so much for asking!! 😄 

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut