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rudyking · 2 months ago

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My pookie:

Whether JJ's son, Riker, likes it or not, he'll always be his father's pookie bear.

The aroma of sizzling bacon battled for dominance with the sweet scent of blueberry pancakes in the cozy North Carolina kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing above the checkered tablecloth where six-year-old Riker sat, meticulously constructing a fortress out of breakfast toast. His brow was furrowed in concentration, a miniature architect tackling a crumbly, golden challenge.

His father, JJ, a whirlwind of shaggy blonde hair and boundless energy even before his first cup of coffee, bounced into the kitchen, whistling a tune that sounded vaguely like a rock anthem played on a kazoo. Deep dimples punctuated his wide grin as he surveyed the scene. “Morning, sunshine! And look at my little builder!”

Riker, ever focused on structural integrity, merely grunted in response. He was aiming for a drawbridge, and the structural mechanics of toast were proving more complex than he initially anticipated.

Yn, the calm anchor in their vibrant family, glided in next, a serene smile gracing her lips. She placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of JJ and then gently ruffled Riker’s hair, her touch light and affectionate. “Good morning, sweet boy. Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” Riker mumbled, still wholly absorbed in his toasty project.

JJ, oblivious to Riker’s intense construction focus, leaned over and scooped his son into a side hug, nearly toppling the precarious toast castle. “Morning, Pookie Bear!” he boomed, planting a loud, wet kiss on Riker’s cheek.

Riker stiffened momentarily, a subtle flinch that went unnoticed by the effusive JJ. He loved his dad, he really did. JJ was fun, and strong, and always ready for an adventure. But lately, something in the term 'Pookie Bear' had started to chafe.

“Dad,” Riker started, his voice a little strained as he wiggled out of JJ’s embrace to salvage his architectural masterpiece. “Can you not call me that?”

JJ blinked, the playful light in his blue eyes momentarily dimming with confusion. “Not call you… Pookie Bear? But you’re my Pookie Bear!” He punctuated this statement with another, albeit gentler, cheek pinch.

Yn, ever observant, noticed the slight tightening around Riker’s mouth and the way he subtly backed away from JJ’s affectionate onslaught. She poured herself a cup of tea, her gaze thoughtful.

“It’s just… at school,” Riker tried to explain, his small hands carefully rebuilding his toast drawbridge, “the other kids… they don’t get it.”

JJ chuckled, a rumbling, hearty sound. “Get what, buddy? That you’re the cutest, cuddliest, most awesome six-year-old on the planet? They’re just jealous, Pookie Bear.” He ruffled Riker’s hair again, a gesture of pure, unadulterated affection.

Riker sighed, a surprisingly mature sound for a six-year-old. He knew arguing with JJ in full ‘affectionate dad’ mode was like trying to stop a runaway train with a feather. He decided to change tactics. “Can you call me Riker, just for school stuff?”

JJ considered this, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm, Riker for school stuff… and Pookie Bear for home stuff?” He beamed, as if he’d cracked a complex code. “Sounds like a plan! Smart kid, my Pookie Bear is.” He winked, completely missing the point.

Yn, sipping her tea, hid a small smile behind her mug. This was going to be interesting.

The school bus stop was a bustling hub of youthful energy. Riker, feeling slightly self-conscious, stood a little apart from the other kids, fiddling with the zipper of his backpack. He was wearing his favorite superhero t-shirt, a valiant attempt to project an aura of cool, independent kid-ness.

Suddenly, a voice piped up, loud and teasing. “Hey, look, it’s Riker!” It was Ethan, a slightly taller boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Riker braced himself. He knew Ethan could be… well, Ethan.

“Hey, Riker!” Ethan repeated, grinning wider now. “Is your daddy going to call you Pookie Bear when he drops you off?”

A few titters rippled through the small group of kids. Riker’s cheeks flushed a dull red. He mumbled, “No, he’s not.”

“Pookie Bear!” Ethan called out again, even louder this time, drawing more attention. “Pookie Bear! Pookie Bear!”

The chant started softly, a low hum of amusement. Riker wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He glared at Ethan, his blue eyes flashing with a hint of JJ’s famous temper. “Shut up, Ethan!”

Ethan, fueled by the attention and Riker’s obvious discomfort, only escalated. “Pookie Bear! Pookie Bear! Daddy’s little Pookie Bear!”

Riker balled his fists, his heart pounding. He was six years old, almost seven! He was a superhero protector of the innocent, defender of justice! Not… Pookie Bear.

Just as he was about to launch himself at Ethan in a blaze of righteous indignation, the school bus rumbled into view, its yellow bulk a welcome distraction. The chanting died down, replaced by the usual chaotic scramble to board.

Riker slumped onto a bus seat, the taunts echoing in his ears. He hated ‘Pookie Bear’. He hated Ethan. He hated everything.

That evening, dinner was a slightly subdued affair. Riker picked at his macaroni and cheese, his usual boisterous chatter replaced by quiet contemplation. JJ, blissfully unaware of the schoolyard drama, was regaling Yn with a hilarious, if slightly exaggerated, tale from his day at work, mimicking voices and gesticulating wildly.

“And then, get this,” JJ was saying, his voice rising in dramatic crescendo, recalling something Rafe said, “he actually said, ‘But Maybank, are you sure this is… prudent?’ Prudent! Like I’m some kind of… imprudent… Pookie Bear or something!” He chuckled at his own joke, reaching over to ruffle Riker’s hair.

Riker recoiled as if burned. He pushed his plate away, his eyes welling up. “Don’t call me that!” he burst out, his voice cracking with pent-up emotion.

JJ stopped mid-sentence, his playful expression instantly replaced by concern. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, Pookie… Riker?” He corrected himself quickly, sensing something was amiss.

Yn, who had been quietly observing, put down her fork and gently touched Riker’s hand. “What happened at school today, honey?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing.

Tears streamed down Riker’s face as he recounted the bus stop incident. He described Ethan’s taunts, the laughter, the humiliation. His voice trembled as he confessed, “They all called me Pookie Bear, Momma. Everyone.”

JJ’s face darkened. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. His jaw tightened, and his blue eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, now blazed with a controlled fire. “Who are these kids?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me their names, Riker. Daddy’s going to have a little chat with them.”

Yn placed a calming hand on JJ’s arm. “Hold on, JJ. Let’s hear Riker out first.”

Riker sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s just… it’s embarrassing, Daddy. It’s a baby name. I’m not a baby.”

JJ’s expression softened. He looked at Riker, really looked at him, perhaps for the first time acknowledging the small shift from baby to boy. He saw the vulnerability in Riker’s tear-filled eyes, the longing to be seen as big and capable.

He knelt down beside Riker’s chair, his gaze level and earnest. “Riker,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Pookie Bear… it’s my special name for you. It’s because you’re… you’re my little bear cub. My cuddly, strong, brave little bear.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s… it’s my way of telling you I love you, even when I don’t say it out loud.”

Riker looked up at his dad, his tears slowing. He saw the sincerity in JJ’s deep blue eyes, the unwavering love shining there. He knew JJ loved him. He’d always known it. It was just… the name.

Yn intervened, her voice warm and understanding. “Honey, your dad loves you so much. And ‘Pookie Bear’ is a name that shows how special you are to him. But I also understand that it’s… maybe not the best name for school. How about we make a deal?”

Riker looked at her, hope flickering in his eyes.

“At home, you’ll always be our Pookie Bear,” Yn continued, smiling at JJ, who nodded in agreement, his protective fury subsiding into something softer. “But when you’re at school, you’re Riker. Just Riker. A super cool, superhero Riker.”

Riker considered this. Home Pookie Bear and School Riker. It had a certain… logic to it.

JJ, ever the showman, clapped his hands together. “I like it! It’s like you have a secret identity! Like Batman! He’s Bruce Wayne during the day, but at night, he’s Batman! You’re Riker at school, but at home, you’re… Super Pookie Bear!” He winked, unable to resist a little playful embellishment.

Riker giggled, a genuine, bubbly sound that chased away the last vestiges of his tears. “Super Pookie Bear?”

“Yeah!” JJ grinned, his dimples reappearing. “You can have a cape… made of blankets! And your superpower can be… super cuddles!”

Yn laughed, shaking her head at JJ’s antics. “Let’s maybe work on the superpower. But the secret identity thing… that’s actually pretty cool.”

Over the next few days, the ‘Home Pookie Bear, School Riker’ agreement seemed to work. At school, Riker puffed out his chest a little straighter, introducing himself simply as Riker. He even managed to ignore Ethan’s occasional ‘Pookie Bear’ taunts with a newfound confidence.

At home, though, he was still JJ’s Pookie Bear, happily accepting the hugs, the kisses, and even the occasional… blanket cape. JJ, while still prone to calling him ‘Pookie Bear’ at random moments, made a conscious effort to use ‘Riker’ more frequently outside of their home bubble.

One evening, while they were building a magnificent fort in the living room, draped with blankets and fairy lights, JJ leaned close to Riker, his voice soft. “You know, Pookie Bear,” he whispered, “you’re growing up so fast. Soon, you’ll be too cool for your old man.” He feigned a dramatic sigh.

Riker snuggled closer to JJ, his small hand finding his father’s. “Never,” he mumbled, his voice thick with affection. “Never too cool for you, Daddy.”

JJ’s heart swelled. He wrapped his arm around Riker, pulling him close. “That’s my boy. My Pookie Bear. My Riker. Whatever name you go by, you’ll always be my amazing kid.”

And in the warm, blanket-fort glow, surrounded by the love of his parents, Riker knew, deep down, that even if ‘Pookie Bear’ might be a little embarrassing sometimes, it was also a symbol of something truly special – the boundless, sometimes goofy, but always fiercely loving heart of his dad. And maybe, just maybe, being Super Pookie Bear at home wasn’t so bad after all. Especially when it came with super cuddles.

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the-most-humble-blog · 24 days ago

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🧠💥 Ladies, You Have No Idea What Men Are Holding Back.

What Every Woman Should Know Before Throwing That Next Insult

ACT I — The Quiet Containment Zone You Mistake for Safety

There’s a terrible, unspoken truth in society:

Most women have absolutely no idea what men are capable of.

Not just “men with issues.” Not just “the violent ones.” Men. Period.

Even the average, passive, smiling dude next door is biologically capable of violence, strength, and emotional suppression that would terrify you if it ever stopped being filtered.

Not because he’s a monster. But because he’s built for it — and he’s been trained since birth to never show it.

ACT II — The Myth of Harmless Men Is a Lie of Comfort

Let’s be clear: The average healthy man — not a bodybuilder, not a psycho — can:

Break your wrist without trying.

Rip a door off the hinges in a blind rage.

Lift you off the ground and pin you before you can scream.

Shut you down mid-sentence with a look if he wanted to.

You think because he doesn’t, he can’t?

No.

It’s because he’s choosing not to.

That silence? That breath-holding when you say some slick feminist sh*t in his face? That’s not weakness. That’s containment.

ACT III — The Monster You Mock Is the Monster That Protects You

Every time a woman rants about “toxic masculinity,” you know who’s standing between her and actual danger?

Other men.

And news flash:

Some of those “men in uniform” you’re relying on? The ones with badges, guns, vests, and legal violence clearance? They're “incels” too.

They’re just the ones who passed the exam.

You think your sass is protected by some divine force of moral authority. In reality? You’re alive because the men you keep disrespecting have agreed — collectively — to stay calm.

For now.

ACT IV — Feminism Is Poking the Nuclear Core of the Male Psyche

Let’s talk incels for a second — because you bring them up a lot.

“Incels are dangerous.” “Incels are creepy.” “Incels are angry at women.”

You know what? You’re absolutely right.

But here’s the part no one wants to admit:

The only difference between an incel and a lot of regular men… is restraint.

Restraint isn’t innate. It’s taught. It’s fragile. It’s disrespected constantly.

And now you’ve built a culture that:

Mocks men who express pain

Calls men weak for needing connection

Labels them “dangerous” if they act too masculine

Labels them “worthless” if they don’t act masculine enough

You’ve built a mental pressure cooker and then laugh when the valve hisses.

What happens when men feel they have nothing to lose? What happens when they see no future, no respect, no intimacy?

They stop containing.

And you’re not ready for what that looks like.

ACT V — Biological Truth: Men Were Built to Kill, Conquer, and Withstand Horror

This is not a Marvel fantasy. This is evolutionary fact.

Men were:

Hunters

Soldiers

Builders

Destroyers

Their testosterone didn’t evolve to help them cry about tweets. It evolved to:

Run toward violence

Ignore pain

Rip flesh with their bare hands when cornered

You think that primal machinery just disappeared because he has a job at Google?

Nah.

It’s sleeping. It’s waiting. And it listens to the tone you use when you talk down to him.

ACT VI — The "Just Walk Away" Lie

You say:

“Real men walk away.” Yes. And they have.

And now you’re mad because they:

Don’t want to date you

Don’t want to protect you

Don’t want to engage

Don’t want to rescue

You called them weak, creepy, fragile, disposable — and now they believe you.

But here’s the problem:

The man who walks away… can also walk into the shadows and grow into something you’ll never be able to reach again.

Because once a man has no reason to behave?

He won’t.

ACT VII — The Psychological Trick (Let Me Flip the Script on You)

Imagine this:

There’s a world where women have superhuman strength. Can crush skulls. Can explode in unpredictable rage. Can kill a man with a coffee mug if pushed too far.

Now imagine every man in that world makes memes mocking those women, saying:

“You’ll die alone.” “You’re useless.” “You’re emotionally broken.” “No one wants you.”

How long until one of those women snaps?

Now flip it back.

That’s the world men are in. Right now. While you’re laughing at them online.

ACT VIII — The Embarrassing Little Checklist

Let’s check your feminism real quick:

Have you ever…

⬜ Mocked a man for being single? ⬜ Said “ew” when an average guy tried to flirt? ⬜ Laughed at a man’s height online? ⬜ Said “real men don’t cry” (ironically, of course)? ⬜ Used “incel” as an insult for any man who disagreed with you? ⬜ Called a man “creepy” just because you weren’t attracted to him? ⬜ Said “men are trash” and expected applause?

Then don’t talk to us about respect. Because you’re poking a bear you don’t actually want to wake up.

ACT IX — Why Men Say “STFU” Now

It’s not because they’re scared of you.

It’s because you don’t listen. You don’t want equality. You want control with none of the consequences.

But you’re not ready for what happens when even average men stop pretending.

You think power is a system?

Nah.

Power is what happens when a man stops giving a f*ck and remembers what he’s physically capable of.

And your favorite TikTok audio won’t save you when the polite mask drops.

🩸 FINAL VERDICT: RESPECT THE RESTRAINT.

Because once that’s gone? You’ll remember what a world without contained men actually feels like.

It won’t look like “toxic masculinity.” It’ll look like total collapse — roaming packs of unsupervised testosterone with nothing left to protect, love, or lose.

So maybe — and this is just spitballing here — maybe you should just STFU.

Y’know. For safety.

🔁 Reblog if you’ve seen the containment system fray and said nothing. 💬 Comment if you’re tired of watching men get mocked for holding back the apocalypse. 🔒 Follow if you know respect isn’t earned — it’s chosen.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This post is written for the purpose of artistic expression, cultural commentary, and psychological exploration of social and gender dynamics. It does not condone or encourage violence, harassment, or discrimination of any kind. Any references to power, strength, restraint, or critique are metaphorical, symbolic, and rooted in historical and cultural analysis. This is not a call to action — it’s a cultural mirror. If you feel offended, ask yourself if it’s from actual harm — or from seeing something you hoped no one would say out loud.

✨ TL;DR: If you're mad, it’s probably not because it’s wrong — it’s because you know it’s true.

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mousedotjpeg · 1 year ago

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cw: price being a cutie patootie for his wife, tooth rotting fluff

John Price was quite certain that, of all the moments he's shared with you, this had to be one of his most treasurable. Each and every time the weather forecast predicted storms, from gale-force winds to a gentle Sunday shower, his sweet little wife insisted upon starting a pot of coffee and building a little nest in the nook of the windowsill; the spot he had built especially for you.

Without fail - not counting the times he was away from deployment - you'd always have a hot cup of coffee awaiting his arrival, and a warm pair of arms to fall into, surrounded by blankets and pillows. More often than not, you'd both end up foregoing the comforts of your own bed in order to bask in each other's arms, squished together against the window.

"Honey?" Stepping into your shared home, coat damp from the rainfall, John softly calls out to you. Just as he expected (and found himself looking forward to the whole drive home) the Wizard of Oz was playing at a low volume on the living room TV, blankets pulled from open cabinets, and your shared nest already neatly fluffed up with pillows and the aforementioned throws.

"Welcome home, handsome." You coo, catching him slightly off guard as you pad over from the kitchen. Immediately beginning to help him shed his soaked layers, you press a gentle kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then finally on his lips. "Your coffee is on the counter. Go put some warm clothes on." You instruct, before giving him another chaste kiss.

Price groans appreciatively into your lips, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze before he's off to the bedroom, rushing to get changed into boxers and a loose-fitting crewneck sweater. Upon his return, you were precariously balancing two very full mugs, shuffling over from the kitchen to the living room. He's taking them from you with a chuckle, pressing sweet little pecks on your temple and forehead, then motioning for you to walk ahead to the windowsill.

Setting them down gently in the little square hole carved out by the window, (another handy little thing John insisted the builders add) John's quick to crawl onto the padded wood, making himself comfortable.

"C'mere, darling." He calls, voice gruff as he finally relaxes into the copious amounts of blankets surrounding him. The harsh wind and rain create a juxtaposing lullaby, his eyes already droopy by the time you're settling into his eager arms. With a contented smile, you drape yourself over your husband, the chill of the room quickly being chased off by his warm embrace. Turning so your back is to his chest, (so you could still see your favorite movie play out) you take a moment to fully appreciate the loving warmth radiating from your husband.

"You're like a space heater, y'know?" You murmur, words muffled against his chest.

"That so, love?" He responds, a breathy chuckle to his words. John is met with only a brief nod, then he's gathering you up further into his arms, squeezing your smaller body tightly against his.

"The main reason I married you, actually." You tease, meaning only a slight bit of it.

"And here I was, thinking it was jus' for John Junior." He concludes.

"Oh God..don't... don't call it that."

"Sorry, love. My cock. Thought it was all for my cock."

"Not sure that's any better, John."

"Mmph."

You giggle softly against him, prompting John to smile broadly into your hair. Shit, how he fucking loves that sound - he'd do anything just to hear it.

"Reckon it'll flood, dear?" He prompts after several minutes of silence, only to be met with the very same thing. John precariously tilts his head back, only to find you dozing off, cheek smushed oh so preciously against him. Reclining his head back onto his pillow, it only takes a few more moments of watching the little rain drops race to the bottom of the glass, and the captain's out like a light bulb, snoring loudly into your ear.

cute lil shitty drabble cause it's "raining fucking hard" down here in texas, and mouse loves rain. anyways, i feel like this one turned out like poopoo doodoo. next one will probably be Nik or Rudy. ~ mouse

#mouse's mess #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price fluff #captain price fluff #cod x reader #cod x you #cod fluff #john price x you #cod price x reader

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oumaheroes · 2 years ago

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Would you write an america and england fluffy drabble?

If domestic counts as fluffy, I sure can indeed

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Another Man's Trash

From his spot on the rafters, America watched England teeter up the ladder to the attic, a full mug in each hand, and took pleasure in offering him no assistance.

‘Took you long enough,’ he said when England was safely up and crouched under the oddly crooked roof supports. He took the mug England held out to him before it had the potential to become a weapon, ‘I thought you’d died down there.’

‘How kind of you to come and check on me.’

‘After what you’re making me do, you deserve it.’

‘’Making’ you do? I deserve death for asking for your help?’

‘Yes.’

‘Noted.’

England hunkered down a foot away and eyed the section of rafters, or lack of, which America was guarding. There wasn’t much natural light to see by. The attic spaces of England’s huge country manor were partitioned and sectioned off between the different wings, some used as servants’ rooms, others for proper storage. This particular section was one of the more abandoned, quickly and haphazardly boarded, and with were only two, small windows to fight against the dust flecked darkness. The hole which America was sat next to was lighthouse’d by a several flashlights, and he could see more by the light from the room below than he could from the small, round, single paned window above it.

England nodded at the room below, bones on the right side of his face sharp with yellow flashlight. ‘Shouldn’t be too long left.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me? There’s still a huge hole in the floor.’

‘Ceiling.’

‘Whatever.’

‘We’ve done most of it.’

‘Done? The whole thing needs replacing.’ America waved his arm wide, coffee still in hand, and England watched its trajectory with alarm. They’d cleared this area of the attic when they’d first started work, the ancient objects and historical junk which had previously occupied the space piled high or scattered about whatever space up here that remained, but hot coffee through the already abused boards probably wouldn’t end well. ‘This boarding is hundreds of years old, I’m surprised any of it is still weightbearing.’

‘It’s well made.’

‘It was well made, like a billion years ago.’

‘It’s not that old.’ England rolled his eyes at the look America gave him and took a sip of his tea, ‘The whole thing doesn’t need replacing, and the main beams are fine. That bit only rotted because of the leak in the roof.’

America opened his mouth and then closed it again, sensing that arguing this point wouldn’t actually get him out of the damn attic any faster and might, in fact, trap him into helping for a much longer project. It was bad enough that his quick summer stay to the UK had been consumed by this; if England accepted an additional idea that he proposed, there was no way to wiggle out of it peacefully. Instead, America glared up at the spot of roof they’d spent the better part of the last few days fixing and waterproofing.

‘You’re lucky I was visiting. If I hadn’t noticed the stain in the guest room ceiling you’d be fucked.’

‘Hardly.’

‘And you wouldn’t have been able to do this by yourself.’

England made a non-committal noise, ‘I would have been fine.’

‘Sure you would.’

‘I would have. It would have taken longer though, certainly. And I’d rather someone I trust than some random builder who has no idea how old this all is. Far too difficult to explain and it would have been an utter ball ache finding a specialist.’ England turned away, placing his mug down and busying himself with the stack of floorboards waiting patiently for them along one of the beams.

America smiled and shook his head. That was as close of an acknowledgement of thanks or gratitude as he was likely to get. Enough too that England considered him competent.

He tried his coffee, mournfully noting that England had reverted, likely out of habit, to making the instant stuff rather than the proper beans. Either that, or America had torn his way through the good coffee that England kept handy for what he called his ‘overly picky’ guests. ‘How old is this part anyway.’

‘This part of the house?’ England handed him a measuring tape and a board, the wood thick and heavy. They’d need to cut them to size, then add the insulation, then plaster the ceiling- actually no, fuck that. England could deal with the decoration himself, America had already splintered his hands tearing out all of the sodden stuff that was there before. ‘Not that old. I think I had this wing built not long after I found you. Maybe my first trip home afterwards.’

America let out a whistle, ‘Hate to break it to you, but that’s too old.’

‘It’s the youngest part of the house.’ England huffed, ‘I’ve been living here for about two thousand years in one way or another lad, a few hundred years is nothing in the grand scheme of things.’

‘I’m not gonna bother giving that a response.’

America peered down through the hole, cautiously perching on the edge of the rafters to see into the bedroom below. His room of all rooms; he’d had to relocate himself to Canada’s. He was sure his brother wouldn’t mind.

‘Mind yourself.’ England warning, hand twitching as if to grab him when America leant even further forwards, ‘We don’t need an A&E trip on top of everything else.’

‘I’m not gonna fall.’

England tutted and looked away, ‘And haven’t I heard that before.’

‘Stop moaning, you’ll go grey.’

‘You’ll make me go grey.’

‘You’d look more your age, at least.’

‘Piss off.’

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say to- oh.’

‘What?’

In the process of measuring the width of where the first board would go, America’s eye caught on something wedged in the insulation. It must have slipped between the older boards when they became warped by the water, or even lost between them years previously. It was deep in the insulation, not budging when America poked it experimentally with the tip of his finger. Shifting his weight, he reached out further across the hole to tug it free, ignoring England’s muttering to come around the other side and get it like a normal person and the hand he rested on America’s shoulder to steady him.

The object was small and wooden. It looked, of all things, like a thick stick, but as America worked it free it was revealed to be a very short, very crude spear. About half a foot long at most, it was roughly sharpened at both ends with a groove in the middle for a handle.

America turned it over, baffled, ‘What the hell is this?’

‘You tell me. You made it.’

America blinked, ‘Did I?’

‘Hmm.’ England wore a soft smile, ‘I left you alone with a penknife; either that or you took it without me noticing. You brought that to me and pronounced it as a “hunting weapon.”’

‘Huh.’ America rolled the stick in his palm and laughed, ‘You’re a sentimental bastard, you know that?’

‘Shut up.’ England coloured, ‘You would have been devastated if I threw it away.’

‘Uh huh. And that’s the only reason you kept it.’

‘Yes.’ England clicked his fingers and held out his hand, ‘Now give it here and let’s get on with it, it’ll be dinner soon and we need to order something early unless we want to eat at stupid o’clock tonight because by fuck am I cooking after all this.’

America grinned and settled himself more comfortable on his beam, long legs dangling down, ‘And what are you going to do with this very impressive hunting weapon?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Can I have it?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Alfred. Stop talking and give it here.’

America peered down once more, imagining the family room further along the warren of hallways of the manor, ‘Can I put it with Deidre downstairs?’

‘Christ- will you leave that bloody statue alone.’

‘I think Uncle Rhys did a very good job with her.’

‘I think Rhys needs therapy.’

‘Aw. Don’t be mean to her, she’s beautiful.’

‘It’s terrible.’

‘She’ll look good with something to hold. Will make that lump of hers on her chest look more like an arm than a third boob.’ America held the odd stick to his chest in imitation, ‘See?’

‘Fine.’ England threw his hands up and shifted backwards as if to prompt America to do the same. ‘Put it with the statue if you want but stop leaning so far over the edge.’

‘Stop being such a fanny fart, I’m holding the beam.’

‘Yes but that could crack.’

America held on with one hand and sat further forwards, grinning as England swatted at his knee, ‘I thought you said the main beams were fine and strong?’

‘With how your great lumpen weight is swinging from it anything coul-‘

England was interrupted by a sharp, distinct crack of old, dry wood. America froze. A fine sprinkling of dust showered down from the roof, settling onto his knees like snow. They watched each other wide eyed, waiting to see what would happen and America trying not to think about the very heavy slate of the roof not that far from his organs. When nothing immediately collapsed he sat up properly, letting go of the beam slowly as if afraid of spooking it. On the other side of the hole, England buried his head in his hands and groaned.

‘Why. Why.’

America laughed nervously and gently patted the beam. ‘I guess I’m buying dinner?’

England didn’t reply.

‘Cool... cool. Nice.’

#aph england #aph america #hws england #hws america #hetalia #hws #aph #arthur kirkland #alfred f jones #heroes writes #Only the OGs remember Deidre

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heliosthegriffin · 2 years ago

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Shadow Knight, and Magic Girls Vi

Chapter 6

Red yawned. "Sure is quiet tonight."

"I know, right?" Yellow answered.

White looked around. "The Grimm aren't very active tonight."

"I'm not sensing anything," Black muttered.

Crimson nodded. "Well, lets call it a night, then. Unless, you four want to go looking for the Shadow Knight?"

Blake grimaced. "I'd like to, but he's been quiet the last couple nights, I wonder what schemes he's up to?"

-----

Jaune grimaced as he was shot with a hose of cold water and soapy bubbles.

It was pass midnight, and they had not gone to get anything to eat, yet.

Instead they had taken him to a car-wash, to clean up Amber's car, and Jaune.

That said, Amber hadn't been lying, she knew how to get blood out of the seats.

He had been nervous about cops for a moment, but Melanie sent a text, and said they didn't need to worry.

Then they sent him through the drier, and a fluffy pink bathrobe was pushed into his hands. "There, we've had enough of your fine ass for now." Militia added.

Jaune slipped it on, then moaned happily, feeling warm and dry and clean.

For some reason Militia blushed, then got behind him and pushed him forward. "Come on, lets go get breakfast."

Jaune nodded. "Sounds good."

The five of them then went into a nearby dinner, unnoticing of the four boys staring in awe at Jaune in nothing but a bathrobe surrounded by hotties.

Cardin dropped his fork. "My life is a lie."

Dove looked at him. "Cardin?"

"All this damn time, I've been playing the wrong game. Alpha this, Chad that." He put his hands in his hands. "Badass, or whatever. I need whatever he's got." Cardin jerked a thumb at Jaune who was looking at the menu.

Then noticing how tired and drained he looked, and how relax and satisfied the girls looked.

Seeing that, they could only salute in honor, then left. Giving him a pat on the back as they left.

Jaune looked confused.

"What was that?" Vernal asked, drinking coffee.

"I don't know, but I think I just made amends with my former bullies." Jaune said uncertainly.

"You get bullied?" Vernal laughed. "Yeah, right. I've heard you earlier, what are they made of steel?"

"No, flesh and bone, but I did say former, this was over a year ago, and I made my stance known on bullying since then." He smirked. "I almost got expelled when I did that."

Vernal leaned back, smirking. "Sweet." She then looked at Jaune's chest. "You ever think about getting inked up? Scars are sexy and all, but so is ink." She pulled down her shirt slightly, showing where her sleeve ended near her chest, Jaune getting a nice view was just a coincident.

Jaune turned away, blushing. "Maybe."

"Just think on it, Tiger."

Jaune felt a shove on his shoulder. "Move over," Militia pushed on him, but struggled to even make him budge, until Jaune obliged, and found himself pinned in the middle of the booth.

Amber and Vernal on one side, Melanie and Militia on the other.

Breakfast in the middle.

Jaune made his choice.

The girls then bonded in fascination as they watch Jaune put away enough food to feed a family of body-builders.

Though, soon as they were all done eating, reality made itself known.

"So, what now?" Vernal asked, holding her mug.

"What do you mean?" Melanie added.

"You came to our house and-" Amber caught herself. "You know, we might have allied for the moment, but it doesn't change what happened."

Militia shrugged. "That's true." She picked at her omelette. "I don't feel like killing anybody right now, though."

"Not when you don't have any men backing you up?" Jaune added, looking at her omelette hungrily, which she quickly surrendered.

Melanie scoffed. "Like that would help, our boys are dead for nothing, we saw your handiwork, what you deal with, we'd have to call in support from some PMC's that owe us if we wanted to put you down."

Amber bowed her head. "I'll go back, live in a compound if that's what you two want, just let them leave."

"Junior's dead." Militia said flatly. "We're going to have to tell Big Bear, he's not going to be happy."

"I know. But, just consider,-"

"Amber, I heard what you said to Junior." Jaune said piercingly. "Why did you want to die?"

The table went silent.

"Jaune, please-"

"You tried to throw your life away, if that's the case, I found it, it's mine now." Jaune said, he poked her chest. "You're don't have the authority to do give it to them, so tell me, so I can help you."

Amber bowed under his gaze. "I can't stand it. Couldn't stand it anymore. I'm saving people who make other people's lives a living hell. How am I supposed to live with myself?"

Vernal shrunk in on herself, Jaune noted that but said nothing.

"I've spent my whole life wanting to help people, and now, due to my own choices, I'm obliged to make other's lives hell by proxy, I couldn't live with myself Jaune. I've always heard, rumors, I guess, that thinks attack people out there." She paused, she shook a little.

"I thought, if I went out, maybe I could do some good, If I got killed by one of those things, maybe, it'd keep someone else alive."

Smack.

Jaune stared at Vernal, she had slapped Amber right across the face. "What the hell, are you thinking?! What right do you have to give up your life? Jaune's right, you should be his, because you can't seem to think at all!"

Jaune blushed.

Phrasing.

"Just because, they're bad guys, doesn't make you a bad girl, sure, they do bad things, but does that stop normal doctors from saving criminals, either? No! You're just doing your job, and if you feel so bad, go volunteers some fucking hours, you damn idiot!" She pulled her into. "What do you think I'd do without you?" Jaune heard her whisper.

He heard Amber start to sob, without thinking, Jaune started rubbing circles in her back.

"Ok, that's nice, but there are pretty good guys who work with us, that you saved." Melanie said sharply. "What? Do you think everyone who works outside the law is just a puppy-eating monster? No, they're just people like you, me, or him. It just so happens, this might be best way to pay they're bills, or the only job they can get."

Amber looked at her. "I know that, but it doesn't make me feel any better!"

"Then shut up," Militia said coldly.

Vernal looked ready to start a brawl, but Jaune put a hand her shoulder.

"Blondies right, you don't have a right to your own life anymore, but it's not his, or yours, or hers. It's ours, it ceased to be your own when you signed on with us to get out of Mistral," She shifted her finger to Vernal. "And, her away from the Branwens, we risked our lives, and connections in Mistral to get you two here." Militia sighed taking a breath. "The least you could do is honor that."

Melanie took over. "Look, I'll admit it, Junior jumped the gun, he shouldn't have done what he did, and we should have tried to curb his anger, but it's too late for that." She took a drink of water, side-eyeing Jaune.

"We'll just have to live with ourselves then." Jaune said tiredly. "Look, I'm not sorry, not at all, I like living, but more than that, I like other people living happily." He drank his glass of water to the bottom. "So, how are we going to solve this? I'm not dying, and I'm not handing them over, this the starting lines on negotiating."

Melanie gave him a brave look. "You and what authority?"

Jaune sighed, then casually pushed her. Melanie and her sister went falling out of the booth.

From on the floor, she looked up at him. "Ok, point taken."

"You were sitting next to me," Jaune pointed out. "I could have done any number of things, but that was it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever mister muscles." Militia said getting back in the booth.

Melanie sitting back down next to pink-robed boy, nodded. "Alright, but think about this from another point of view. They're homeless, you're a teenager, they have no job without us, or finances, and I doubt you have the means to support them."

Jaune nodded. "Yeah, that's true, but we could figure out something?"

"Look, we're the reason they even got into the Kingdom, without us, they'd have Kingdom Immigration forces breathing down they're necks. Even if you protect them from us, could you protect them from the taxman?"

"What if I marry them?" Jaune said idly, making them freeze up.

"First off, bigamy isn't legal in Vale anymore, second off, you're not of age, they're go to jail."

"Only if my parents don't consent, and they always want more grandchildren."

"That's true, but we're just talking about green-card marriage, getting them knocked up is a huge decision. Can you really afford to be a father, and do your heroing, Mr. Knight?" Melanie added more weight to her argument by the minute.

Jaune shrank.

"If you die, what then? They no longer have your protection, and the children grow up without a father. Your family has to take up the burden, and we are free to target-"

Jaune's hand ghost over her neck, barely stopping himself from snapping her neck. "You touch my family, fuck right or wrong, I will go to war with you. If I have literally tear myself apart to do so, I will, and I swear on my families name, I will leave you, your sister, your mother, father, and the rest of your gang nothing to be remember as but another bloody page in history, am I clear?"

Melanie stared into his eyes, and knew, in her soul, that he was telling her the truth.

"Yes." Jaune retracted his hand, but did not relax.

"Amber," He said calmly. "We're going to renegotiate the contract."

"What?"

The twins stared at him. "What?"

"Bring me to Big Bear, we're going to talk."

"Are you insane?" Militia asked.

"Probably, but, if he's going to find out his son's dead, it may as well come from the killers lips." He turned to look at the car. "And, if nothing else, I imagine he can wait to kill me a bit, if I give him some information."

Melanie leaned forward. "What could you have to offer him?"

Jaune smirked. "Well, you can't tell me, that you're not curious about those monsters, so, what makes you think you're boss wouldn't be either."

------

"Red." Black said ominously. "Where's my books?"

"Ju-just give me a little more time, please?" Red squeaked, hovering back from the eerie presence Black was giving off.

"Oh ho ho, you want more time? What will give me for it?" Black held her hand to her mouth.

Red stiffened. "Are you blackmailing me?"

Black looked at her like she was a idiot.

"Ok, more than you already are!" Red huffed. "At this rate just go ahead and tell them! It can't be any worse, than -, What- what is that in your hand?" Red held a shaking hand at to what Black held.

In her hand, a scroll, it was playing a video of Red. It was a compilation labeled, Magic Red Fails.

It was over two-hours long.

Part 1 of 10.

Red's eyes began to water. "Please, don't." She asked sadly.

"Red." Black said softly. "I'm not Yellow, or Ms. Purple, that won't work on."

"Dag-na-bit!" Red sort of swore.

"Wow, why don't really let me know how you feel?"

"I'm sorry, I just don't like being backed into a corner, alright?!" Red then sighed. "What are your demands, oh great and awesomey, Magic Girl Black?"

Black reached behind her, bringing out a list. Red read it, then kept reading it, then paled as the scroll started to unfurl further and further down till it hung in the air ten feet down from where it started.

It was only after hovering down half-way down the list, that Red realized she couldn't actually read anything on it, as it was just shifting illusionary words meant to take up empty space.

"Did-did you use your magic just for a joke?" Red said confused.

Black didn't blush, but hurriedly rolled up the paper. "I'll just forward it to you later. Don't disappoint me." Then flew away as fast as possible.

Red hung there in the air. "She can make jokes?" Stupefied. "I can tell no one. They will never believe me."

------

It was a generic office building, well-kept, but uninteresting, where the Xiong Family met. If one where to peer from the outside, they could never guess what was going on in the inside.

Jaune sat on the floor before a mountain of man, taller and broader than he was, with flowing grey and black mane of hair, and well-groomed beard.

His eyes were somewhat beady, but they're intense and focused.

Big Bear, Hei Xiong Sr. was dressed similar to Jaune in just a robe, but his was far more formal and expensive.

He was attended to by a dozen, pretty and young women, all barely dressed at all in short, thin silk dresses, and they all looked more than happy to be here with Big Bear.

With a gesture from the man's massive paw, one of them came over and poured them both a cup of some strong smelling fruity alcohol.

"Drink." The man said simply.

"No." Jaune responded.

"It's not poisoned."

"I don't drink. I'm not legal."

"Bufafafa!" The man bellowed, slapping the ground. The ground shook like a dump-truck hit the building. "You're a silly child. What are you? 18? 20?"

"17."

"When I was your age, I'd drink my own weight every night." Big Bear said reminiscing. "Though, I can't say I'm as wild as you are."

Jaune nodded. "I can't say many are." He looked at the drink. "I mean no offense, but I like to be clear as minded as possible, at all times."

Big Bear took his cup and drained in two gulps, his cup was the size of a mixing bowl. "That's not a slight is it?"

"Not at all, but considering I spend most nights on the streets fighting ... things, I try to not be drunk."

Big Bear chuckled. "Usually, it's the other way around, getting drunk most nights and then trying not to get into street fights, but it happens."

There was a pause, with only water trickling from a fountain in the back and the girls moving to fill the void.

"You killed my son," Big Bear said simply.

"I did."

"He was my only son."

"So he was."

"Drink." Big Bear said simply, pushing the cup to Jaune. "To his memory, oh, killer of my blood."

Jaune stared at cup, it was the same size as Big Bears.

Holding it, he held it out. "Cheers, to his memory."

Big Bear had his cup refilled, then met his cup. "To his life."

Jaune drank deeply from his cup, drinking till there was no more to drink. It burned going down, with a heavy musky taste, but it was also sweet and fruity.

"Not bad for a first timer." Big Bear said amused. "More?"

Jaune shrugged. "Why not?"

"Good." Big Bear said. "If you are to die tonight, die with warmth in your veins."

Jaune nodded. "If I am." He took another long drink after his cup refilled, he was starting to feel loose and warmer. He smiled, his eyes watery from the scent of the drink. "So, shall we get down to business."

Big Bear straighten himself out. "Yes." He said seriously. "You want to renegotiate for Ms. Autumn, and her friend? And, your own life, I suppose?"

"Preferably," Jaune said loosely, then smirked. "Or, if you wish, we could negotiate for yours?"

Big Bear blinked at him. "Daring aren't you?"

"Seven women, all with suppressors," He gestured to the scantily clad women, pointing out the hidden weapons on them. "All of them, aimed at me from the moment I enter this room, at least one might hit me, but not before, I can break your neck." Jaune laughed, the drink was getting to him. "Even if they do hit me, I'll make sure to take every one of you bastards with me." Jaune smiled, it was predatory.

Big Bear blinked again. He drank when he met with those that talk with him, to weaken the barriers between them, to lower inhibitions and make them expose they're truth.

He smiled, so this boy's truth was so bloodthirsty?

"Oh, you think you can take me?"

"Oh, definitely. You're bigger and stronger than me, maybe," Jaune sloshed his cup. "But, also bigger, slower, older, and ... and, well, I just have to break you neck once, right?" Jaune leaned back. "I mean even if I don't, you're what sixty? Seventy?"

"59," Big Bear added.

"Whoops, anyway, you're getting older, I don't have to kill you, if I hit you hard enough, you're not going to recover again. You're body is slowing down, and so is your healing. I break your leg, arm, ribs, it won't ever be back to 100%. Then what?"

Big Bear nodded. "Correct, but your point?"

"Might makes Right? I guess?" Jaune stretched. "Lets not play pretend, saying you got this far by being just a good business man and leader, though, I bet that helped, but you're such a big-mother fucker, that you could just throw most men out the door, if you get crippled, and you have no heir, then what?"

"I imagine, I'll be dethroned."

"Exactly, imagine if I kill you, then what? You're whole organization falls apart, decades of work gone in months, because every black-suited jackass here will be scurrying for the scraps you leave behind. No heir, no leader, then all your sub-bosses will think, 'My turn.' Wouldn't they? You don't get to the top by being a nice-guy, right?"

"You sure are threatening my life a lot, for a man here for peace talks." Big Bear said amused.

Jaune shrugged. "You're the one that made me lower my inhibitions, I know what drink does, doesn't make you do anything you wouldn't already do, it just makes you not think twice about it."

Big Bear smiled widely. "I love honesty, what I love about booze, always brings out the realness in people. Can't hide anything, much less anything to yourself." He then sighed. "I like you, boy. Shame though."

"Yeah, can't imagine you're just going to let me get away with everything." Jaune straighten up. "My deepest apologies for you loss." He kneeled till his head touched the floor. "I'd offer my life, but that will not make up for your pain."

Big Bear grunted.

"But, I can not offer you revenge, not yet, I have to give my demands."

"Which are?"

Jaune rose looking him in the eyes. "Move Ms. Autumn to an actually hospital, offer your continued protection to Vernal, do not hold any grudges towards the Malachite Sisters, harm my family, and finally," Jaune took a breath. "Please, do not let my work got unfinished."

Big Bear stared at him curiously.

Jaune stared him pupil to pupil. "The death of the monsters that hunt the night."

------

"So, how's the crush, White?" Yellow asked as they flew over the park.

"How's the black-eye?" White responded.

"What black-eye, - ah!" Yellow then crashed into a ice-berg hovering in mid-air, crashing through it.

White watched as Yellow then slammed through several trees in her fall. "Hmm, they saw vengeance is empty, but I don't know, this feels pretty cathartic." A fire ignited on the ground catching on the broken trees like tinder, as from the ground, as a luminously angry Yellow soared up at White, who gulped and flew away as fast as she could.

"Not as planned, not as planned!" She muttered, as she heard Yellow roared behind her.

------

Big Bear was silent.

"You aren't blind, or deaf." Jaune accused. "You can't possibly think I was solely responsible for all the deaths of your men, do you?" He points to his teeth. "Do you think I am the one who ripped them apart with my great fangs?" He curls his fingers. "Or, do you think I used my sharp, long claws to cut them apart?"

"I know of them." Big Bear said after a silence. "These are what you go out at night to combat, Shadow Knight?"

"For as long as I have been able, for as long as they've existed."

"Hmm, I did not realize you have lived step for step with all of mankind's history. That contradicts your statement of being only 17, who's the real, old man here?"

Jaune's eyes widened. "They go back that far? I thought that they only showed up last year..." He searched Big Bear's face for any lies. "You're telling the truth."

"Yes. How arrogant you are."

"That means-"

"Tales go back as far as the dawn of man, telling story of monsters in the dark, of to beware the night. Tell me, do think they are all fable?"

"No, not now." Jaune stared at him intensely. "Then what do you know?"

Big Bear breathed heavily, his breath still smelling of they're drink. "Not enough."

Jaune smiled bitterly. "Isn't that the truth."

"But, I do know what my own father had told me, what his father told him, my family is old boy, dating back to the founding of Haven herself." His eye suddenly looked much older. "To not go wandering into that dark night, less you find yourself consumed by it."

Jaune listened.

"When I was a boy, around your age, I had everything I could desire. Money. Women. Power. Influence. Friends to drink with. I was the master of my fate, and was set to inherit this seat before you, which I did, but that's a story for another day." He breathed out, he started to tremble. "I thought, I believed truly, that I was unstoppable." He brought his head up, staring at Jaune with haunted eyes. "I met something that was truly unstoppable."

----

White met Black mid-air, stared at each other, seeing panic in one's face and embarrassment in the other.

"We never saw each other." White said quickly, looking behind her for any sign of Yellow.

Black nodded. "Agreed." She saw what looked like a small yellow bonfire approaching from behind White. "Good Luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it!" Then they separated. "Wait! Where's Red? She might be my only hope to calm down her sis-, I mean Yellow."

Black then disappeared, saying nothing.

"Well, that's a lot of help, you are!"

-----

"I had decided one night, to return to my motherland one summer." Big Bear said. "To go back to Mistral, to see the place of my grandfather's birth." He paused, thinking, smiling. "I had been young and full of myself, it was as you said 'a big-mother fucker,' " He smiles pridefully. "I could knock out any man I saw, and have any women I put my gaze on. It did not matter that I was a stranger in a old, old land. I was King. I could not be toppled."

He took a deep drink, his cup empty, he dropped it. A girl came over with a bottle, but he wavered her away. "No, not a drop more for me," He looked at Jaune. "You?"

"Do you want to see me drunk?"

"Bufafafa!" He laughed. "No, I don't think I do, you're bad enough tipsy."

He paused. "Funny, how the Gods write our fate, I only had the one child, and no woman has ever approached me with a bastard." He looked sadly. "I would never turn away a woman, either. Yet..."

Jaune scanned the women around him. Not a single belly-bump on any of them. But, it was obvious to him they're relationship, Jaune could practically smell him on them.

"Excuse this old man his rambling," Big Bear bowed slightly, there was a genuine sorrow in his eyes. "Back to my tale. I was young once, and proud too, I thought I was a master of all I saw. Despite my arrogance, though, I made many good friends in my time in the Old Land. We fought together, drank together, laughed together, I thought I had found by comrades that I could take back with me to Vale. One that would be with for the rest of my life as I tore a bloody swathe through our fair city, till I reigned as her master."

He looked out into the cities night. "It was not to be."

"This was some thirty years ago, the last free years of my life," Big Bear turned to a woman. "Bring me some water, please." She obliged. "I wanted to leave my mark on Mistral before I left, to take my place as you see here."

Jaune looked at him. "You met them didn't you?"

"A big one. I had heard rumors, of something in the deep country of Mistral, where they still practice the old ways, away from our living, they're very spiritual people, powerful too." He looked Jaune over. "But, not like us, brutes. They're power is more subtle and focused."

Jaune looked at him curiously. "How so?"

"They're a slippery people, impossible to touch or sneak up on, and strong enough to slip a boulder in two." He looked at his hands. "If you haven't seen it, you wouldn't believe it."

Jaune thought back to firing point blank into that girl, and not even phasing her. "No, go on, I believe you.'

Big Bear looked at him, then blink. "You've fought one, haven't you?"

Jaune nodded. "If I can help it, I'd like to never do so again."

Big Bear thought for a second. "In this city. Recently," The great man sounded shaken. "It's related to all the property damage isn't?" The man put two and two together. "They're fight those monsters aren't they?"

"You've seen the streak of light at night, haven't you? They weren't meteor, or swamp gas. They're powerful, but they're uncontrollable, unskilled. They're still plenty of monsters that they miss, possibly because of how unskilled they are."

Big Bear breathed slowly. "Bufafa," He chuckled slowly. "You just keep destroying my world, don't you?"

"Not destroying, just making room."

"I had heard stories about people like that too, back in Haven, in the Old Land. Stories of girls of great power?" He looked at Jaune's face. "I see. Back to my tale." He took a drink of water, then smiled. "I got my ass handed to me on a platter by one of those people, it was awe-inspiring. I was so confident, and that lost spurred a fire in me that I never knew existed."

"I know the one." Jaune agreed.

"It made me stupid." Big Bear continued. "I had lost to a person that was half my size, and old. It was embarrassing beyond belief, all my comrades rushed him, they got the same fate. We were fools, he had come to warn us. He knew what we were out here for.

"He knew of the beast out there, generations of his family knew of it, and none had bested it, only survived. The Nuckaleeve."

-----

Red was still hovering in the air, when White flew and hid behind her. "Red! Red! Save me!"

"From what?"

"That!" She pointed at fire-storm approaching them.

"Oh." She patted White's shoulder. "Nice run, kid."

"This is not the time for jokes!"

"Ok, ok!" Red said, then flew at Yellow. "Yellow! Stop, bad Yellow! Bad!" She said with a finger pointing at her accusingly.

"What?! White started it!"

"Did she?"

"I mean ... kinda?"

Red looks at the burning park in the distance. "Sure, she did."

"Argh, fine. Maybe, I over-reacted, just a little bit?"

"Yellow."

"Fine! I'm sorry, White for messing with you."

"Thank you." White said haughtily.

"White." Red said.

"And, I'm sorry for giving in to your provacation."

"Good." Red said, she jerked a thumb at the ground. "Because, we got company!"

Hundreds of Grimm were charging towards them, following Yellow's path.

Yellow punched her hands together. "Good, I could use some stress relief!" She threw a glance at White. "Be glad it's not you."

White smirked. "Want to make a bet? I believe I can slay more Grimm than you can."

"Oh, it's on, my sister from another mister!"

"I'm in too!"

-----

"We chased after it anyway," Big Bear continued. "I called in every favor I could, I had something to prove. I wanted this thing dead, if I couldn't beat that old man, I was going to one up him, prove myself superior, then return home a champion."

Jaune looked at him sadly. "I see."

"I had made many friends during my stay in Haven, many with connections to powerful forces. Millions of Lien spent in one night. Tanks, APC's, Experimental Weapons powered by Dust, Guns, Rockets, Jets, hundreds of men. All led by one brass balled idiot."

Big Bear gestured to himself. "I have never had one moment in time I wanted to turn back more than that night." He moved his hand as if winding back a clock. "We were slaughtered, it wasn't a fight, not even close to one." He shook. "I don't even know I how I survived. I just woke up the next morning, my leg broken, and the remaining men pulling me out. They said nothing to me, but I knew they blamed me, they wanted to kill me. But, for whatever reason, they choose not to. They're are nights I wish they had."

"Your comrades?"

"Dead. Not even enough to bury. Miles of beautiful old country gone, but It wasn't scratched. It rampaged for days, and when we went to where that Old Man lived ... The village was flattened, and he was a not much more than twisted bone and skin. Horrible way to go, the Thing seemed like it had a personal hatred for him, we just pissed it off enough to make it act on it."

"Did ... Anyone?"

"Yes." Big Bear answered bluntly. "A little boy. The Grandson of the Man. I took him in, you know, took him back with me, along with two little infant girls, the daughters of the former heir of ... Well, that's not for you know." He stared at Jaune harshly. "I imagine you can guess."

"I can."

His eyes softened. "I fucked up. Not just on that, but on being a father." He said hatefully, but not to Jaune. "I spoiled him, gave him everything he could have ever wanted, thinking that would make up for taking away his family." He slammed his fist on the floor. "It made him a conceited little shit, who thought the world owed him everything."

Jaune breathed out. "Shit."

"Yes."

Silence reigned.

"What now?" Jaune asked.

"I don't know." He looked at Jaune, eyes uncertain. "I truly don't know. I can't let you go, but I don't blame you either. But, you are a good man, better than me." Big Bear reached into his robe, pulling out a pair of twin axes. "Blood demands blood."

Jaune stood up. "Blood demands blood, however, my demands?"

"Granted." Big Bear said softly. "On my words, for all the meaning it may have to you."

"Everything." He looked away. "Could... You tell my parents I love them?"

"I could."

"In my room, if you search, you'll find everything I have on the Monsters, all my records. How I fought them, how I won, what I know."

"Bow, child."

Jaune knelt.

"Hand out."

Jaune put his hand out.

One of the axes fell into his hand.

Blood dripped down from Big Bear's other hand.

"Cut your hand, boy."

Jaune looked up in confusion.

"As I say."

Jaune made a line across his hand.

"Hold it out."

Jaune did so.

Big Bear, Hei Xiong Sr. Grabbed Jaune's hand, they're blood mingling.

"From this day on, you are a member of the Xiong Clan. Welcome, my heir to the family."

Jaune froze, looking dumb-struck. "You don't want me dead?"

"A little bit, but as you say, I'm old, I have no heir, my men are power-hungry idiots. But you? You're young strong, brave, and most of all, smart. You're what the family needs." He looked down at him. "What is your name, boy? Mr. Shadow Knight, sound a bit too title like."

"Jaune, Jaune Arc."

"Arc?" He paused. "Interesting. Regardless. From this day on, to replace the blood you have spelt, you will take it's place. Rise, Jaune Arc Xiong, my son. For where I have failed, you shall succeed."

Jaune rose up awkwardly. "I still have parents,"

Big Bear shrugged. "Then just call me Uncle Xiong, nephew."

"I'm not a criminal."

Uncle Xiong looked at him like a fool. "No one said you had to be... Well, you already kinda of are. But, that doesn't mean I need you to be a criminal, I have plenty. No, I want you to be my sword in the dark. Against the monsters out there."

Jaune nodded. "That I can be."

Uncle Xiong smiled. "Good." Then he looked down. "Have you not been wearing pants this whole time?"

#jaune arc #fanfic

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lady-astras · 1 year ago

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Febuwhump Day 7 - Suffering in Silence (Doc)

One week in, it was his turn. Even Etho - Etho - had come out of that room shaking, face tear-stained, being supported heavily by BDubs.

Doc knew vaguely what his room would consist of. Probably insects or Ren or something, he tried to laugh it off. He’d told the others that he didn’t have any big fears. He was the Doc after all. Builder, inventor, game-breaker.

But when he received that fateful letter in his mailbox - Spawn coordinates. 9 AM tomorrow. Be there or we’ll make sure you’re there. - Doc was nervous.

Or well, screaming internally in terror, but nervous was how he convinced himself it wasn’t a big deal. Because it wasn’t.

But he was there. At 9:00 am, the heavy iron door unlocked itself and swung open on well-oiled hinges.

The room itself was unremarkable, replicating a small yet open main room. In the centre, there was simply a wooden slab meant to act as a seat - rather like someone had barely bothered to furnish their living room in lieu of other, more important things to do (Doc knew the feeling well).

As with everyone else, his communicator had been taken (to be returned to him at the end of his challenge), so he was startled to find it - or at least a replica - sitting on a short table by the door.

Speaking of - just then, the door slammed shut ominously. Or maybe it was just him.

Alongside the communicator was yet another slip of parchment, the now well-known signature of whoever ran this room.

Doc hoped Xisuma and the other admins would get to the bottom of this before anyone else had to suffer. But this didn’t seem like a punishment…

Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a book? Pillows? Just ask! Only restrictions are the key to this room.

Okay, this was getting targeted. Doc knew he didn’t spend much time on mental health or relaxation days, but now he was being forced to take one? Doc snorted. He could be doing so much more right now. And besides, what did this have to do with… with… with whatever he wouldn’t admit to himself?

Just ask? Hmm…

“Room?” The air seemed to still as though it were waiting. “Can I have… a mug of coffee and a new book?” He felt rather silly but was pleasantly surprised when a faint pop sounded through the room and both things appeared.

What he didn’t notice was the faint click of a dispenser activating.

As he opened his book to the first page after taking a brief sip of the hot, rich coffee, a hissing sound alerted him to the mysterious presence of a creeper (alas, being a creeper hybrid was not enough to keep him safe from their volatile explosions and rage). Doc jumped up with a nonplussed yelp, scrambling to get away before it was-

Too late. The creeper exploded, shattering his mug and sending a ceramic shard into his arm, the knockback sending him into the closeby wall.

Sitting there in shock at the exploded mess around him caused a rather late reaction, but as he tried to get up and brush himself off, there was a rather sharp sting of pain in his left leg, which he had landed rather awkwardly on. It felt strangely bent, or just some way wrong, and it hurt.

Feels broken.

Instinctively he reached for his communicator, which was usually in his pocket but was now taken away, only a replica - maybe the original? - lying on the ground, displaced from the explosion. It had landed on the other side of the table ruins. Doc grimaced and pulled himself into a crawling position, dragging himself over to get it. Maybe someone could come get him from the room - no one had tried to let someone out early.

Picking it up - finally - he opened it with his password, and it miraculously worked. It had his contacts and message history too! Maybe it was��his communicator!

DocM77: Ren? Renthedog: what’s up? DocM77: you know the room thing? DocM77: a creeper got in and exploded me badly - I think I broke my leg and a ceramic shard from my mug of coffee ended up in my arm. DocM77: think you can find a way to bail me out? I tried asking the room for stuff but it won’t listen anymore. Renthedog: Lol. Renthedog: you’re THE Doc, figure it out yourself Renthedog: besides, you never accept our help, why are you crying to me now? DocM77: … are you serious? Renthedog: want me to tell the truth? You’re weak. Always have been! DocM77: you don’t want to be friends, just say that. Renthedog: Oh I did. You’re just too oblivious to even notice. Renthedog: You’re. Weak. Admit it. DocM77: FINE. Don’t talk to me then. I’ll ask someone else. Renthedog: good luck :)

Doc let out a deep sigh, feeling an overwhelming sense of hurt. Ren, whom he had always considered to be one of his closest friends, had just told him that he was weak. This was the same Ren who would have rushed to his side at the mere mention of being hurt. Doc couldn't believe that his friend had just so callously brought up his insecurities like that. It made him wonder if he had ever truly known Ren at all. Was he pretending to be someone he wasn't all along? Doc couldn't shake off the feeling that Ren was just taking advantage of his vulnerable state to inflict more pain.

His leg felt inconsequential to the heartbreak now.

Maybe, maybe another Hermit would help him. Stress maybe? She’d never fail him - and was also horrible at hiding her distaste for certain things, that was very clear.

DocM77: Stress? Stressmonster101: hi luv <3 DocM77: So you know how it’s my turn in the room thingy? Stressmonster101: yup. Wait, how can you talk to us? DocM77: I don’t know. They gave me my comm back. DocM77: Anyway - has anyone tried to bail anyone else out? I think I broke my leg and there’s a ceramic shard embedded in my arm - it’s really painful to type. I tried asking the room for medical supplies - because it can give stuff to me - and I don’t think it’s listening anymore. DocM77: I tried talking to Ren but he told me to screw off basically. DocM77: Stress, could you please get someone? DocM77: Stress?

DocM77: Iskall, is Stress with you? Iskall85: no, she’s chilling at home. I think she finished her errands for the day. Iskall85: why? DocM77: I was talking to her but then she ghosted me, I thought something came up. Iskall85: it’s your day in the room - how are you even talking to us? DocM77: long story anyway, I think - can you get me out of here? I don’t have any medical supplies and I think I broke my leg. I also have a few severe cuts and stuff - creeper explosion. Iskall85: huh. Maybe. Could you handle it by yourself for a while? DocM77: yeah but please hurry. Can you message me back if it doesn’t work? Iskall85: sure ig

It had been three hours and not one single message, not a knock on the door.

”Room?” He asked quietly again, knowing nothing would happen. But the air stilled like it had for the first time. Listening.

He was going to ask for something to bandage up but found himself blurting out - “Why won’t anyone answer me?”

They don’t like you now. They thought you were better when you could support them, read the parchment that presented itself to him. On the back it said, You will go at eight o'clock tomorrow. Whatever your state is will remain until you can go. The room will no longer provide for you.

And nothing more.

Doc felt weirdly lightheaded. He’d painfully pulled out the ceramic shard and used a torn strip of his lab coat as a bandage, but there wasn’t anything for his leg as the room was so poorly furnished and, upon closer inspection, even more poorly stocked. Lunch had been nonexistent, and dinner was some stale chicken stock with a few sad frozen peas, all cold. To pass the time he read his book, but the plot was mind-numbing, if there was a plot at all.

And worst of all everything hurt. His leg, arm, head, and most of all his heart.

Most of his time was spent leaning against the wall thinking, mostly melancholy thoughts.

Iskall didn’t send anything back to me. At all. They promised!

Stress ghosted me. I didn’t think that was possible.

And Ren…

It hurt too much to think of Ren.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fandom #docm77 #explosions #febuwhump #febuwhumpday7 #astra writes yo what?

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themculibrary · 1 year ago

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Clint And Laura (Claura) Masterlist 2

part one

blow a kiss ; fire a gun (ao3) - daredoll M, 12k

Summary: First day on the job and she gets handed a train wreck; you could say that Laura Mitchell’s hard work hasn’t exactly paid off in the way she expected it to. Still, she’s read the SHIELD handbook at least eight times by now so she’s sure she can more than handle some upstart carnie with a bow kink who somehow managed to beat her training score without even going through the academy.

Spoiler Alert: she’s wrong.

Distraction (ao3) - woamx G, 875

Summary: Clint gets a phone call right before having to go out on the field with his teammates.

Five Years in a Blink (ao3) - Gnb_rules M, 3k

Summary: Laura knows the world has changed in the past five years, and in the days after she and the kids return from The Blip, she realizes that she needs to learn how much of her husband has changed as well. Clint/Laura, post Endgame. Mentions of a very loving and deep but platonic Clintasha friendship. Please see tags for more info/warnings.

here is my hand that will not harm you (ao3) - andibeth82 T, 18k

Summary: It starts the day they assign him to Laura Morse.

It starts as something he wants nothing to do with.

And then, it becomes something more.

I'm Not Going Anywhere (ao3) - aberrations_reality T, 3k

Summary: They swore they were going to take it slow. They did. They really did. But Clint has always been terrible at planning; has always had the worst timing. At this point it was probably a curse. So it only made sense that the second he pulled out the ring the window shattered in a spray of bullets and glass.

Never far from home (ao3) - RedBatons T, 112k

Summary: Clint is crazy. Laura already knew this. But this time, Clint was seriously out of his mind crazy. He had one job, to kill the deadliest assassin known to man. And then he decides to keep her like a lost puppy found on the streets. But Laura trusts Clint. The Black Widow, not so much. A story about Laura and Nat's friendship over the years.

One thing, and three people that Laura loves (a non exclusive list) (ao3) - Maia_saura G, 1k

Summary: Laura loved math. She had loved math since the second grade. Other than an intense but ill-advised fling with theoretical physics right before the start of her graduate program, she and math had shared a rewarding and monogamous relationship.

Reconnecting (The Reclamation Remix) (ao3) - Huntress79 M, 2k

Summary: Sometimes, Laura thinks she has two babies instead of just one - her husband’s lingering trauma from his latest mission makes life at the farm not exactly easier, for no one. Until one night, it does. Or: how Clint and Laura overcome trauma and reconnect with each other.

she sees better from a distance (ao3) - andibeth82 T, 8k

Summary: This is the story everyone knows: Clint Barton is SHIELD’s best sniper. Laura Barton is the simple girl who fell into his life and learned to deal with aliens and spies; with secrets and firearms and security.

In this story, Laura Martinelli is SHIELD’s best sniper. Clint Barton is the man she falls in love with, and he’s never even heard of SHIELD.

Sleep Number Rule (ao3) - RecessiveJean T, 7k

Summary: Farm or not, Clint always had a firm policy against bringing home strays.

Well.

Firm ish.

The Ghost of Christmas Past (ao3) - mitchpell T, 28k

Summary: Clint takes his children to New York City to see Rogers: The Musical.

The Girl at the Circus (ao3) - Hogwartswonderland N/R, 3k

Summary: At the beginning of their partnership, Clint told Natasha a story of a beautiful acrobat nicknamed Rapunzel and how he fell in love with her. Five years later Natasha still doesn't know how the story ends. Well, until now. Otherwise the story of how Natasha met Clint's family for the first time.

This little light (ao3) - Builder G, 1k

Summary: “Daaaad!”

The complaint has Clint turning on his heel. “What now?”

He looks at the coffee pot still in his hand and wonders what the fuck he did with his mug. And more urgently, how the fuck is he going to get the coffee into his body without it.

we belong to those who live (ao3) - daughterofrohan G, 2k

Summary: The absurdity of the fact that he’s crying in his kitchen with the assassin sister of his dead assassin best friend who was hired to kill him and has only just recently decided not to do it after all almost makes Clint laugh.

You're Here Where You Should Be (ao3) - paperairplanesopenwindows T, 1k

Summary: Summary/Prompt Used: Natasha’s first Christmas with the Bartons + Clint and Laura’s first Christmas with Cooper doesn’t go exactly as planned + (an itty bitty little bit of) If love is for children, then so is Christmas. Clint’s determined to convince Natasha otherwise.

you were more than just a short time (ao3) - mayadrinkswater G, 2k

Summary: laura barton is all-too-familiar with the antics of her husband and his best friend. they always, even in the most serious and near-fatal of missions, come back with a good story. they've perfected their ability to recall them, too, in a near perfect push-and-pull that almost seems rehearsed even though laura knows that it isn't. laura never expected to miss it so much.

three times clint and natasha bring a good story home and the one time clint brings a new stray home in the form of kate bishop

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #clint barton #laura barton #claura #claura masterlist #f/m

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secretearthquakecheesecake · 2 years ago

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🤗 Good Evening..

Latest fashion and new trend.. If you are happen to travel Europe next time..and if you are WINES lovers, Enjoy such a Big Betty wine glass.

Or if you coffee lovers than enjoy giant mug as part of a beautiful memorable evening.

Don't expect to hold it in one hand though unless you are a body builder, other wise use your both hands and enjoy sip by sip.

🌼𑜞᭄with ℒℴѵℯ 🌹💞

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stargazer-sims · 2 years ago

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Get to Know Me - Sims Edition

I was tagged by @damseljamsel

What’s your favourite sims death? Death by chickens & bunnies (Cottage Living)

Alpha CC or MaxisMatch? I'm not a big alpha fan. I do have some alpha CC, but I'd say I'm 97% Maxis-match.

Do you cheat your sims weight? No, but they never really seem to change their weight, so.... ???

Do you use move objects? Absolutely! I do a lot of building and it's practically essential for building

Favourite Mod? MC Command Center. I don't actually have that many mods in my game, and I could live without most of them, but MCCC is too useful to play without at this point.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack? Get To Work (EP), Outdoor Retreat (GP), and I forget which stuff pack I got first. It was either Spooky Stuff or Backyard Stuff.

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing? I pronounce it like "LIVing"

Who's your favourite sim that you've made? As a character, definitely Victor Nelson, but in terms of aesthetic/attractiveness (to me) I'll say Eden Seong, and Prince Makai.

Have you made a simself? Yes, I have made a simself, and I've played her in more than one save. Currently, she's living her best life in Newcrest.

Which Sim traits do you give yourself? Dog Lover, Creative, Socially Awkward, Foodie

Which is your favourite EA hair color? either ginger or black

Favourite EA hair? For both males and females, I really like the wavy hair that's tucked up in back, with wisps at the sides, that came with Eco Lifestyle.

Favourite life stage? Young Adult or Adult, simply because the majority of interactions and opportunities in the game are geared toward them. I'm starting to appreciate children a bit more, though they still leave much to be desired in terms of gameplay.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? I would definitely consider myself a builder, although it's certainly not the only thing I do with the game.

Are you a CC creator? Yes - @stargazer-sims-cc

Do you have any simblr friends / a sim squad? I have simblr acquaintances who I'm friendly with. I'm pretty sure I've never had a "squad" anywhere at any time, either online or offline lol.

What’s your favourite game? Unpopular opinion, but my favourite iteration of the game is actually Sims 4 (and I've played every version; original, 2, 3 and 4)

Do you have any sims merch? lol no, although I do kind of want to get this coffee mug.

Do you have a YouTube for sims? No

How has your « sims style » changed throughout your years of playing? I'm not sure my actual "style" has changed, but I do think my sims look better than they did when I didn't use skin details and non-default eyes. Plus, with practice, I've learned to create better faces.

What's your origin id? It's SafireStargazer, although I haven't posted anything to the Gallery in a while.

Who’s your favourite CC creator? I don’t really have a favourite. I like what I like, regardless of who made it.

How long have you had simblr? Since 2015. This account is my second one, made in 2019, but not actively used until the end of 2020/beginning of 2021.

How do you edit your pictures? My editing software is PaintShop Pro (currently using version 2022)

What expansion / game pack is your favourite? It’s a tie between Snowy Escape and Island Living for my favourite EP, and my favourite GP is still Outdoor Retreat.

I'm not going to tag anybody, because I feel like everyone has already done this. But, if you haven't done it and you want to, feel free to say you were tagged by me.

#sapphire answers

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reckless-glitch · 1 year ago

Note

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals, followers and all the wonderful people on here! (no pressure ofc <3)

aaaa what a sweet little ask game

happiness in 5 things:

Really frustrating base builder/strategy games

coffee in the largest mug we have (the bf started doing this when I lamented about only being able to have one cup a day so now my one cup lasts)

baking someone's favorite dessert and being told I make it the best

getting a solid wall of notifs from a mutual who only visits my blog once a week or so

making complicated maps that I only use for a session or two in my tabletop games

off to see who my last 10 were! thanks 🥰🥰🥰

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forensicated · 1 year ago

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Smiffina Episodes: Episodes 486 and 487

Not strictly Smiffina episodes, however it does affect both and both have been shown to be very worried about it - and Gina is involved in how it comes out too.

Episode 486

It's June's last week and she's partnered with Roger to police the final evictions of the Aldbourne Estate that has been bought by a developer, Frank Butcher Brian Stevens. Yet again the trope happens - they get coffee and donuts... and a call arrives. During a council meeting, one of the final remaining tenants, Harris, handcuffs himself to a seat. When the police arrive and uncuff him, Harris assaults Stevens and all hell breaks loose. Stevens presents as a friendly open and above board man of the people who has been harassed by Harris and June gently manipulates the situation to make him not press charges so that Harris can go free.

June speaks to Harris and tells him that he can go free but he must accept that he's being evicted. Harris insists it's corrupt and thats why he's still fighting. Before the developer and councillor talked, the councils plan was to sell the flats to the tenants. Now a fake plan had been produced that says the idea had been to redevelop the estate and that that had been the plan all along. That's what has got Harris' back up and is why he refuses to leave his home of 40 years. He has no physical evidence himself but he does know of someone in Stevens' employ that is feeding him the information. June asks him to make a meeting with the man because she needs to see the details to take it further.

Heaton has rekindled his affair with Georgia, the DAC. His wife sends him a message telling him to get the rest of his things whilst she's out that night.

Harris' contact agrees to a meeting in the next hour. He backs up what Harris told June and shows her proof but insists he won't do anything official. June takes it to Gina and Heaton who agree that further investigation is warranted and advise June to speak to the council members and to do a financial check as well as an email trail between Davis - the council member who appears to have been bribed - and Stevens. June gets a telephone call before she can complete her checks - their informant from within Steven's company - has been assaulted. There's no CCTV and the only witness is an old man who saw someone in a balaclava running away. The victim claims it was just a mugging and Stevens turns up at the hospital to ask how he is.

John tells them it seems that - if they're willing to go this level - it could be that they already know about their investigation and are could be burning evidence - they'll have to be arrested. The councillor has a bank account over in Spain that he has been putting in 3000 euros in weekly for a few months until the total was the equivalent of £50K. It started a week after Stevens approached the council and it just so happens that they started days after Stevens removed £50K from his own bank account! The Super is going to interview Davis with June and wants Gina to take Stevens.

Davis claims there's nothing to tell and their relationship is simply business after he bought a flat from his company. It's simply a coincidence, according to him, that he was on the planning committee. He claims however that there's nothing untoward.

Steven's isn't so cool under Gina's questioning, claiming that he can't remember what his emails are relating to. There's allegedly nothing dodgy behind the 10K donation to a day center that one of the other councillors daughter attends, it's simply a repayment of a favour for getting him a table at her husbands exclusive table. He claims the 50K that he removed in cash last May was simply to pay for things as a builder/developer as cash is handier than cheques and the like.

Davis reckons the 50K is money that he's saved up over the last 30 years in a box in the house and that his wife told him to start paying it into an account as they're about to buy a Spanish property.

Finally Roger finds a date in the two mens diaries that match up to show they attended lunch at the same restaurant at the same time 2 weeks before Stevens approached the council and they'll be able to get the CCTV for it, CCTV that shows that they are sitting together at the same table. As an aside, it's called Enstone's Bar. (The dodgy finance company involved in the Larson cover up was also called Enstone Finance...)

June is acting a little suspicious however... she's noticed a familiar name amongst Stevens' files... Georgia Hicks - the DAC. She tells Rod she's on to something and can't chat after collecting the CCTV - however her car is run off the road and the CCTV tape stolen before she can return to Sun Hill. She's physically fine and manages to stumble out of the car and contact Sun Hill

Georgia goes to speak to John as she's had Councillor Davis ringing her about being arrested, claiming that there was no evidence about it and that if he's going to arrest council officials then he should approach her first. She also tells him that they're going to find out the next morning which station is to close - Barton St or Sun Hill. She insists she has no idea which way it will go. Then she invites John to come and stay with her rather than in a hotel.

Gina and June catch up back at the station where June shows Gina the emails she's found between Stevens and Georgia that detail that a development plan is being prepared for his company to purchase Sun Hill and redevelop the land that the station is on and that Georgia had agreed and told him that they will be able to offer the land.

The women take the proof upstairs to the Superintendent, however he's already left the office. Outside however, June spots him with Georgia - kissing her before getting in the same car.

Episode 487

It's the day of the final evictions and Heaton is on the ground and tells Harris that they have not found hard evidence of corruption. He then has to return for a meeting with the DAC. Diane and Roger find a young man with a petrol can who claims he's the registered owner and he's simply filling it up.

June confesses what she saw last night between the Superintendent and the DAC. She worries that he might be helping Georgia with Stevens' plan and they leave the office, only to find him stood with Georgia. John asks if they know who ran her off the road yet and she says Mickey is working the case. Georgia noticeably hesitates at the bottom of the stairs, listening in.

John asks for the answer about the police station closure and she bulls him up saying that it's too late for an appeal and that she'll find him another station when they merge. He says he won't roll over and let them do it and she says the plans have already been approved.

June has been digging and she finds that Georgia doesn't just own one of the flats that Stevens has been building - but it's a Docklands penthouse. Gina sighs and says they need to take it up to John and get the DPS involved. John locks away the file of June's evidence and tells them he doesn't want it to get out and that Mickey will continue the investigation but he mustn't be told about the DAC. He insists he'll continue the investigation into the DAC and Brian Stevens. June is fuming, insisting he's going to cover it up. Gina tells her that any Super would have to play it carefully and they have to give him a chance. June refuses - she's not going to let him bring down Sun Hill.

On the estate, Reg mutters the immortal line: "I can't imagine anything is going to happen!" right as a car explodes into flames! It's the same car Diane and Roger saw earlier being filled. Diane arrests the boy and Harris is arrested at the same time, telling Roger he tried to stop him.The young boy fakes a fit and Diane gets taken hostage inside the van whilst the outside of it is attacked by the remaining residents. Thankfully it doesn't escalate that far but it does mean that the evictions are further delayed. Harris apologises to the officers for what happened with Diane getting taken hostage - he was approached by the young lad who said he could help, but he had no idea that he'd go so far or act so dangerously. The other residents feel the same, Harris says and that the lad is now on his own - with his little posse of hooligans as the real residents are now too frightened to leave their flats. Harris has to accept that it's over and that he'll lose his flat as he's arrested again. Nikki tells him it's ok, she'll ensure one of her officers keep a close eye on the bailiffs and makes sure nothing gets broken.

Brian insists his son was with him at the snooker hall at the time of June's accident when it's claimed his son's car was used to run her panda car off the road. Mickey, unaware of the background information, is frustrated by June's attempt to press him to do things he doesn't think the evidence backs up. He also even says: "If it was me June, I'd be at home with me feet up." No you wouldn't Mickey! You'd be even worse than June at having to investigate it yourself and get in everyone else's faces! Thankfully a little while later, Mickey finds some CCTV that proves that it was a lie. June is about to let Mickey into what's been going on with Georgia , Heaton and the station but Heaton appears in Custody and she gets distracted, simply following Mickey to interview Stevens.

Stevens insists he's not going to answer their questions when shown the CCTV proof. June slips up by saying the DAC can't save him there and he plays the innocent. She tells him she's seen the emails but Mickey ends the interview to talk to June, asking what she's talking about. Mickey bitches her out about keeping information from him. She has to let it all out but Mickey insists she's acting nuts and it's nothing important. Really Mickey... remember your digging into Chandler with Jack? It's not that dissimilar! She tells him the DAC is corrupt. Mickey: "So you're saying the Superintendent is bent too?" He scoffs, telling her he doesn't want her on the investigation anymore. Funny how he's so quick to forget all the hunches he's had when the evidence is pointing another way - and the Chandler et al stuff... and the Delaney stuff... and all the others! He tells her to take it up with the Superintendent - and then goes to speak to him himself, telling him what has happened!

John's only response is 'is it on tape? Did Sgt Ackland name the DAC on tape?" Mickey says yes - then John says he wants the tape and the files and that he's removing Mickey from the job... surely that should ring some jingle bells, Mickey?

Mickey snaps that he's been removed off the case by the Super to June and hands everything over to him in front of her. "What are you doing?!" June asks incredulously, forced into an office by Heaton who gives her a dressing down about bringing up the DAC and bringing Stevens' in. "I don't think you're in any position to threaten me, Sir." June glares. "I saw you with the DAC last night, you're protecting her!""Be careful what you say." Heaton growls back. "You may regret it."

On the estate, the sun has now set and the relief are facing attacks on the stairwell by the hooligans from earlier. It's wrong to laugh but in the riot suits with their shields the men could literally make two of poor Diane.

Georgia and John meet at the side of the river to talk. He asks her how he knows Stevens' and she says she doesn't other than his case. He lets on that he now knows about her flat and why she's being named in an email by a councillor about the sale of Sun Hill. He's been doing some research - it appears that she also owns a place in Spain sold by Stevens too. He tries to tell her he'll deal with it if she tells him everything. She admits she had a fling with him when she was newly qualified. He sold her both places at a special rate and falsified financial figures to get them. She admits telling him a year ago that Sun Hill might be merging with Barton St and he threatened he'd go to the press about her if she didn't get him the plot secured. She also admits changing the report about Sun Hill and also that councillors were bribed to get him the estate. Her only upset is that John was hurt and she asks him to help her.

Steven's growls at Nikki for not letting his men start work and she snaps back that it's a crime scene and noone gets anywhere without his say so. Heaton appears and Steven's smirks thinking he's about to get his own way... only for Heaton to arrest him. He thinks he's about to go once they're at the station and he's about to be booked in when John says there's been a new development. The smile is wiped off his face when Heaton tells him that his son has just admitted to driving June off the road.

John goes to address the relief at the end of the day, telling them he wants to confirm a rumour. Sun Hill is not going to close. June still worries they're going to bury the DAC's involvement in the corruption. She marches into John's office and insists she'll call the DPS herself if she has to. John tries to stop her, Georgia tries to get her thrown out the room.... and the DPS arrive to arrest Georgia. Heaton had already called them and he hands over a recording of their conversation to them.

#roberta taylor #gina gold #mickey webb #chris simmons #mike reid #june ackland #trudie goodwin #john heaton #daniel flynn #chris jarvis #dan casper #georgia hobbs #kezia pelka #kaye wragg #diane noble #the bill

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buyersguides · 18 days ago

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Log Cabin Calculator

Build Your Dream Retreat: Unlocking the Magic of a Log Cabin Calculator

Planning your dream log cabin? Discover how a log cabin calculator can simplify the process, from estimating materials to designing your perfect retreat. Build smarter today! Calculate Log Cabins Prices Ah, the charm of a log cabin! Who hasn’t dreamed of escaping the hustle and bustle of daily life to a cozy haven surrounded by nature? Whether it’s for that dreamy weekend getaway or a full-time retreat, planning your log cabin can be as exciting as sipping hot cocoa by a roaring fire. But here’s the kicker—how do you even start? Enter the log cabin calculator, your new best friend for turning your cabin dreams into reality. No ruler, no confusing math. Just a handy tool to help you plan like a pro. In this blog post, we’ll dive deep into the wonders of a log cabin calculator. From helping you estimate materials to designing the perfect size for your needs, this tool is an absolute game-changer. So grab your favorite mug (tea or coffee, no judgment), and let’s embark on this log cabin adventure together!

1. What is a Log Cabin Calculator?

Picture this: You have a vision of the perfect log cabin, but the logistics of planning feel overwhelming. This is where a log cabin calculator saves the day. It’s an online tool designed to help you estimate everything you need to bring your log cabin to life—from materials to dimensions, and even construction costs. Instead of scratching your head over how many logs you’ll need or how big your cabin should be, this calculator breaks it all down. It’s like having a pocket-sized architect who never sleeps (and doesn’t charge you hourly). Plus, it’s super intuitive. You simply input your preferences—such as cabin size, log type, and wall height—and voilà! You get instant insights. This tool is perfect for first-time cabin builders and seasoned pros alike.

2. Why Use a Log Cabin Calculator?

You might wonder, “Why not just wing it?” Well, let me tell you—winging it with a log cabin is like baking a cake without a recipe. Sure, it might work, but the odds of a gooey mess are high. A log cabin calculator saves you time, money, and stress. It eliminates guesswork by providing accurate estimates for your project. Whether you’re DIY-ing the cabin of your dreams or hiring professionals, this tool ensures you’re prepared from day one. Oh, and let’s not forget the cost factor. By using the calculator, you can budget more effectively, avoiding those unexpected expenses that sneak up on you like a raccoon raiding your trash bin.

3. Choosing the Right Cabin Size

Let’s face it—size matters, especially when it comes to your log cabin. Are you envisioning a snug one-room escape or a sprawling cabin big enough for family reunions? A log cabin calculator helps you determine the ideal size for your needs. Simply input the number of rooms, desired square footage, and usage preferences. Whether you’re building a romantic hideaway for two or a functional family retreat, this tool tailors the design to your lifestyle. And hey, if you’re debating between cozy and spacious, remember this golden rule: Bigger isn’t always better. A well-designed compact cabin can feel just as luxurious as a large one.

4. Decoding Log Types and Materials

Logs come in all shapes, sizes, and species (yes, trees have species too). The type of log you choose plays a huge role in your cabin’s durability, aesthetics, and overall vibe. Most log cabin calculators allow you to experiment with different materials, from classic pine to sturdy cedar. Not sure which type suits your style? Pro tip: Cedar logs are known for their natural resistance to pests, while pine logs offer a more budget-friendly option without skimping on charm. And don’t worry if you’re not a wood expert. The calculator often includes helpful tips to guide your choices, so you can focus on dreaming up cozy interiors instead.

5. Wall Height: How High Should You Go?

Here’s a fun fact: Log cabins aren’t just about horizontal logs. Vertical measurements matter too, especially when it comes to wall height. Do you want towering walls that create an open, airy feel? Or are you leaning towards snug, cabin-in-the-woods vibes? A log cabin calculator helps you decide by providing recommendations based on your cabin’s purpose and design. For instance, taller walls are great for maximizing natural light and creating loft spaces, while shorter walls keep things intimate (and easier to heat during chilly winters).

6. Customising Your Cabin Exterior

Let’s talk style. Your log cabin’s exterior is the first thing people notice, so why not make it unforgettable? A log cabin calculator often includes options for customising exterior elements like roof pitch, porch size, and window placement. Whether you’re dreaming of a wraparound porch for stargazing or a steep roof to handle heavy snowfall, this tool brings your vision to life. Not to mention, exterior features can impact functionality. For example, larger windows provide stunning views but may require additional insulation. The calculator ensures you strike the perfect balance between beauty and practicality.

7. Budgeting Like a Pro

Money talk isn’t always fun, but it’s crucial when planning your log cabin. The last thing you want is to run out of funds halfway through construction (hello, unfinished walls). Thankfully, a log cabin calculator helps you budget like a boss. It breaks down costs for materials, labour, and extras, giving you a clear picture of your financial commitment. And here’s the best part: You can tweak inputs to see how different choices affect your budget. Want to splurge on premium logs but save on interior finishes? The calculator has your back.

8. DIY vs. Professional Construction

To DIY or not to DIY—that is the question. Building a log cabin is a rewarding experience, but it’s not for the faint of heart. A log cabin calculator can help you weigh the pros and cons. If you’re going the DIY route, the tool provides a detailed breakdown of materials, so you can plan every nail and beam. Prefer to hire professionals? Use the calculator to estimate costs and compare quotes. Either way, this tool ensures you’re prepared for the journey ahead, whether it’s with a hammer in hand or a contractor on speed dial.

9. Eco-Friendly Cabin Tips

Sustainability isn’t just a buzzword; it’s a way of life. And guess what? Your log cabin can be eco-friendly too! Many log cabin calculators include options for sustainable materials, energy-efficient designs, and renewable energy sources. From solar panels to reclaimed wood, there are plenty of ways to reduce your cabin’s environmental footprint. Plus, going green doesn’t mean sacrificing style. An eco-friendly cabin can be just as stunning (if not more) as a traditional one, proving that sustainability and luxury go hand in hand.

10. Bringing Your Dream Cabin to Life

At the end of the day, a log cabin calculator is more than just a tool. It’s a gateway to your dream retreat. With its help, you can plan every detail with precision, from the size and style to the budget and materials. So what are you waiting for? Grab your laptop, fire up the log cabin calculator, and start designing the sanctuary you’ve always wanted. Whether it’s a rustic getaway or a modern masterpiece, the perfect cabin is just a few clicks away. Editor's Choice Garden Log Cabin Calculator. - Available in a Range of Styles, Colours & Shapes & Sizes. Log Cabins Here -

Add Value To Your Home With A Garden Office, Summer Houses, Garden Rooms & Gazebos. - Sturdy, Robust & Weathertight For Year Round Use. View Range - Expert Fitting Service Available or Delivered Free in the UK - Add Value To Your Home Compare Products -

Corner summer house available in a number of sizes take a look here_>>

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What would you use your log cabin for? Have a browse here_>>

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