#saw a post calling willow mid sized

[stardivinefinale-moved]

some people don't fucking know what words mean.

[dovveling]

Why must you keep giving me opportunities to spam your ask box 😔

❣️ When did your OC first realise they were in love? How did they react to the realisation?

💍 Which one of them would propose? How would it happen? (or write if you feel like it!)

💋 Who is the best kisser? (if you’d like write a short smooch scene!)

BESTIE THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE A WEDDING SCENE--

❣️ When did your OC first realize they were in love? How did they react to the realization?

- Unfortunately, it was love at first sight-- Even if Iolas would rather drop dead than admit this. He probably saw the incredibly ostentatious portrait of Lucio in his wing and was taken aback by how attracted he was to this man who was supposedly dead. It only got worse after Lucio got attached to Iolas through the ghost binding within canon-- Iolas the whole time thinks Lucio's romantic advances are just for fun and doesn't expect Lucio to love him at all. All the While he's completely in love with Lucio. (even if he acts like a rude little shit to him 50% of the time) It isn't until Lucio asks him to go traveling in the upright ending that's when Iolas realizes that Lucio is serious about him and even if it scares the shit out of him he can't help but believe him. The events of everything come crashing onto him and he realizes that He's 100% in love and cannot escape it.

💍 Which one of them would propose? How would it happen? (or write if you feel like it!)

(THANK YOU-- I will put this under a read more because the next two answers will be LONg but look under if you wanna see two idiots fall in love)

The sun hung low in the sky as Lucio makes his way to the palace gardens. He has asked Iolas to meet him out by their favorite spot in the garden maze. the blonde smiles remembering how the two of them had found the hidden spot while goofing around and shoving each other into the hedges. It wasn't until one hard push sent Lucio through the hedge and where he expected to land on his ass but he found himself on the other side of a portal with Iolas calling for him from the other side. After Lucio had ushered the other man through the portal the two looked over a hidden meadow that seemed to be somewhere close to the center of the maze.

Lucio could picture it perfectly; the stark white gazebo in the center, the perfect sun rays that sprinkled the fluffy grass, and the willow tree with its small leaves that dripped and trickled. He loved when the wind would blow and the tendrils of the willow would tickle up the wooden beams of the gazebo and scare Iolas into laughter every time the leaves would brush against his lover.

As Lucio draws closer to the portal before he stops and stares at the ring he had spent hours picking out. He had never fussed so much over a gift for someone. He never had to worry about gift-giving, because anything he picked out was glamorous and simply perfect. this however wasn't just a gift. It was a question. It was a statement and soon as he would think he was close to picking he would look and see a flaw and wonder if Iolas could see it and if he did then he'd never get to hear the answer he so desperately wants to hear to the question He'd rather not be asking.

So many times Lucio doubled back on himself about the personal. Is this just too much? could he see himself getting married when his last marriage was such a failure? Then He would hear it. Iolas' laugh and the sunlight hitting his lover's coffee skin and every reservation burned away and was replaced with a deep desire to make this person his and only his.

Lucio steels himself as he pockets the ring, almost dropping the bottle of champagne he forgets he was holding. As he pushes through the portal the blonde's heart skips a little at the sight of his lover resting on the side of the white gazebo, wearing a white robe that Lucio had gotten commissioned to match his iconic white suit. His lover seems to be lost in thought, their crimson eyes gazing over the tree line until Lucio steps closer and knocks on the wood with a playful tune. His wolfish smile triggering a similar one on his lover's face.

"Hi, my Darling--" Iolas starts before pulling Lucio over by his collar to meet his lips. With a giggle, Iolas watches Lucio hop over the median of the gazebo instead of using the very close opening that's just a little be over to the side of them. Lucio tries to steady his face. He doesn't want to come off too excited or nervous. He needs to play it cool so Iolas doesn't suspect anything, but it's too late Iolas gives him a curious look. "What are you planning? I know that look."

Lucio however holds his hands up after he places the bottle of champagne down on the railing in front of them. "Why do I always have to be up to something huh? Can't a man just meet his lover in a secret hole in the woods for some late-night drinking and maybe some late-night macking?" the blonde throws the magician a wink, which is met with a playful smack that Lucio is too found of.

"Did you bring glasses, Oh Count of Macking?" Iolas teases with a click of his tongue and to that Lucio's face freezes for a second because he did not think about the glass part of drinking, but his shock lasts for a split second before he nudges his lover with an elbow and a cheeky grin. "Can't you just magic something up for us--" Before Lucio can even finish Iolas throws his head back, his whole body shakes with a genuine laugh, one that Lucio only sees when Iolas reacts to his particular stupidity. "Absolutely not. I cannot manifest glassware, but fret not Lulu I prepared for this." The silver-haired man stands on the railing of the gazebo and reaches up behind one of the posts and brings down two champagne glasses. Lucio helps the shorter man down before taking both glasses and leaning down to give his lover a short kiss on the head.

Snickering to himself Lucio places the glasses down and pops open the champagne. "See? Who needs magic when you have a lover who has the spirit of a squirrel. Why are those even up there?" Iolas can't seem to hold back his laugher and starts into a long dialogue about how the last party they hosted he was tasked with disposing of all the drinks Lucio downed after getting into a drinking match with Julian and at some point, he got too fed up hauling all the empty glass wear to and fro so he eventually gave up and used the portal which was much closer than the garbage. Soon as he finishes that story Lucio makes note that not only does he not remember this drinking contest at all, but he also notices that the whole upper layer of the Gazebo is littered with small drinking glasses of all shapes and sizes.

This brings the two of them to a comfortable speed of talking, to which Lucio adds more flavor by introducing the drinks. The sun finally settles and the garden lights are now on and thanks to all the glass wear in the gazebo there are small reflected lights scattered within their own space. Slowly the stories of their day dwindle and eventually, they huddle close to each other so they can look under the top of their gazebo and point out stars. Lucio watches the small warm lights bounce off his lover's face and his heart races. He can't chicken out now.

"Iolas." Lucio stops the silver-haired man mid-sentence as the other was just going on about his zodiac sign and how it will be visible in the sky until he hears his name.

Iolas pauses fully, not use to hearing his full name exit his lover's lips unless it was during a more intimate and scandalous situation. So he hides his hesitation with a smile and he answers the blonde with the same tone he just used but extracted with a deeper tone to lighten the mood. "Lucio." The count starts to fidget but just laughs when Iolas mocks his serious tone. "No really, uh... Listen for a second." Iolas' face now turns from curious to worried. " Uh oh. that's a real serious tone. What did you do?" Lucio brushes him off, biting his lip and rubs the back of his neck. He feels so lame doing this, but that's the point.

Lucio stands up straight taking Iolas' hands, looking directly into those red eyes. Something in him wants to run away, but the ring sits heavy in his pocket and he opens his mouth only to close it so he can bring Iolas' cold fingers to his lips. Iolas' however is completely taken aback. His lover has been romantic before but he was much more used to their back a forths of one-upping each other and superficial hyping each other up coupled with nightly flings where he ended up in the blonde's bed. So this sudden tenderness was jarring.

The magician could feel that dark feeling creep to his shoulders that say he shouldn't get his hopes up, that he's happy filling the count's time till he finds a real suitor. Even if Lucio was a temporary General at the palace was still a completely different status then Iolas and Royals don't have court magician as suitors. So he was happy to bid his time with Lucio because even with the teasing and snarky remarks that sometimes hurt Iolas' loved the other man's company, but love doesn't change status. Love doesn't guarantee a happy ending. He knew this from experience and learned his lesson the hard way.

So It was the last thing Iolas' expected when the taller man pulls out the biggest ring the magician has ever seen and gets down on one knee. Iolas' first thought is that he wants to shake his head so he can wake up. Then when air fills his lungs he realizes he is awake and this is happening. More than happening he's been silent for too long but all he can hear is the stinging sound of his fears buzzing in his head. The buzz is deafening and He can see that Lucio is speaking but he can't hear him.

You will just disappoint him. Iolas' thoughts curse. Better yet he'll disappoint you somehow. A shaky breath leaves him and all he can do is blink and look at Lucio with watery eyes. "I-- I'm sorry please can you say that again." Iolas stops and closes his eyes just so he doesn't have to look at the ring that's almost blinding with its meaning.

Lucio's normal wolfish grin falters but only returns once he hears Iolas speak. "I said. We should get hitched, ya know?" Lucio sputters, shit. "Look. Like I was saying we're surrounded by losers, Pet. Who else am I gonna get to match me other than you huh? come on, look at me. Then look at you! we're perfect for each other.. ya know?" Lucio now looks nervous as he speaks. Unable to keep eye contact. ...and.. I love your laugh."

This seems to pull Iolas' from his fears a little even enough to get him to let out a weak laugh. "What? what does that have to do with anything?" Lucio pouts and glares at his lover just a tiny bit. "I love your laugh! and I don't want anyone else to have it. I deserve it, I get you to do it most and I think you owe me. So like.." Lucio ushers Iolas' to the ring, his legs are starting to buckle. "I wouldn't admit this to anyone else but my knees aren't what they use to be so can we--" Iolas stops him with a curt turn, his shoulders shaking.

The blonde stands suddenly, his whole body rigid. This was it. the rejection he warned himself about. He's ruined everything, his heart screams to go back. Iolas is probably laughing at the proposal and Lucio's tacky way of offering himself. It isn't until the sound of a stuffy nose echo through the silent night that Lucio realizes his lover is crying and instantly he steps forward a different kind of fear gripping his heart. " W-wait-- wait, why are you crying? You never cry--" He falters and fidgets his hands around his lover unsure if he wants to be held or not.

Iolas turns finally, his red puffy eyes are turned down in a grimace as they glisten in the dim light. "Yeah, you idiot I never cry and look at what you made me do." His tone is harsh but it's followed by a sad shake that ruins any intention of anger. "Lucio I... I don't know how to do this." Lucio's heart slows but he's thrown for a loop and Iolas can sense his confusion and clears his throat as he wipes his leaking eyes. "No one has ever, wanted me like this before. I don't know if I can-- How do you know you want this? What if I disappoint you? What if you get tired of me and regret ever meeting me? At least if we keep things like before you can just get rid of me if I'm too much and I won't have to--" Lucio stops Iolas this time as he brings his lover close by pulling on his crossed arms.

"You won't have to worry about falling in love?" The blonde answers with his own sense of sadness, his eyes looking down at their feet before meeting with Iolas' who only nods in response. Lucio is a bit thankful that his lover didn't outright say no and is at least contemplating the idea of things. "No I had the same thoughts and honestly I don't know how I'm sure. I just... am." Lucio's normal bravado comes back now that he feels more secure in the conversation. "I know that I love seeing you every day. I know that I love sleeping with you every night. I know that I don't want anyone else to hold you the way I hold you and I know that you feel the same way about me." At that the blonde swallows hoping he isn't wrong. "But mostly I know I don't ever want you to leave. If you were to leave, do you know how fucking boring this place would be? I would set the parlor on fire within minutes of you being gone." The cheeky grin is back and Iolas snorts at the idea and manages a smile as he is now fully embraced by his lover.

Lucio rests his head on the shorter man's head and hums, kissing the top of it. Slowly he pulls Iolas back so he can look down at him. "But it's not just about what I want... you kinda need to want those things too." Now it's Iolas turn to nervously look away and slowly as the shorter man's courage builds he tights his grip in Lucio's jacket and more tears fall down his face as the realization comes crashing onto him that he'd do absolutely anything to be with the man in front of him forever. Before He can answer he shoves his face into Lucio's jacket rubbing his head back and forth on the soft fabric. "You moron-- Of course I want all that."

The blonde can't resist the urge to tease the other man however and laughs to himself. "I'm sorry, could you say that again I couldn't hear you from inside my jacket." Iolas hits the taller man's chest with a laugh before he goes to wipe his damp eyes yet again. "You know for a fact that I said YES-- urgh, gods look at what you did to my make searing the hell am I going to fix this now--" Iolas' whining is stopped short by his lover picking him up in a searing kiss that continues as the blonde twirls them both. With a firm grip on Iolas' was it Lucio Looks up at the magician with a smile that could blind the gods. "I wanna hear you say it." Iolas rolls his eyes, a large pout crosses the silver-haired man's lips as he kicks his legs from his newfound lifted position.

"I have zero ideas what you're talking about--" Iolas protests but Lucio shakes his head. "Say it or you are never leaving this gazebo." Iolas is about to rebuttal but the look in Lucio's eyes is that yes he is serious. Iolas' expression softens, even if it's despite himself. "Of course I'll marry you, LuLu." Lucio bounces in his spot and spins the both of them once again but this time continues to spin around the whole gazebo till Iolas can't help but laugh and struggle against the crazy man holding him. "Stop-- Lulu Stop we're gonna--" but it's too late. Lucio's legs trip over themselves and with zero grace they both tumble onto the hardwood floor.

Iolas rolls onto his back and groans, dizzy and sore his eyes dart over to the man beside him who is just as dazed. slowly Iolas entwines their hands with a smile and Lucio is about to kiss his lover's fingers before he remembers the ring. The blonde springs forward, getting up like the fall meant absolutely nothing but Iolas takes his time sitting up as his lover fumbles to find the ring he dropped.

Soon as it's found Lucio slides over, the scraping sound of the fabric of the taller man's pants on the hardwood makes the magician giggle. Iolas has to give the other man sheer points for his enthusiasm. Pompously Iolas sticks his left hand out, to which Lucio plays along and kisses the other man's ring finger dramatically before slipping the large ring onto Iolas' hand.

Carefully Iolas' holds his hand out to the light and observes the sheer size of the ring and can't help but grin. Lucio practically radiates waves of anticipation on his lover's thoughts "Was this the biggest ring they had?" Iolas wiggles his fingers, acting as if he's unimpressed. Lucio simply feeds back into him. "How dare you." Lucio sneers, pulling Iolas into his lap as he sits, unable to be on his knees any longer. "I had this one custom ordered. Not only is it the biggest ring in stores, but it's also the biggest wedding ring, period." He speaks into the shorter man's neck before he kisses it, The count's tone never faltering while he speaks. This sends Iolas into a giggle fit. He knows for a fact that this ring physically cannot be the biggest but another part of him can see Lucio putting up a fight with store owners about the pitful size of their rings to the point where he just orders them to make him a whole new size.

"Of course, I knew my Lulu would only get me the best. He not capable of anything less." Lucio preens in the praise and Iolas strokes the back of his fingers against his lover's face. For a moment they stay like that, both of them processing what exactly just happened and what this means for their future. Iolas is the first to break the silence with a soft hum as he presses against Lucio's chest. "Thank you... Lucio." the taller man responds by nuzzling his nose into the shorter man's hair with a confused hmm. "I never thought I could do this... but for the first time, I'm not scared." Lucio smiles at that. and squeezes his lover in his arms.

"Good. We can both be fearless together."

💋 Who is the best kisser? (if you’d like write a short smooch scene!)

(I WILL TRY MY BEST TO KEEP THIS SHORT SINCE I JUST WROTE YOU A WHOLE FIC ON ACCIDENT ON MY LAST ONE)

The sound of wood creaking fills the otherwise quiet room as Lucio pushes his lover against the doors of his chambers. Lucio places on hand on the hip of the man under him and huffs a breath through his nose that leads to a soft moan as their lips bump against each other awkwardly for a second. Iolas snickers within the brief pause and pulls Lucio down by his collar. Now controlling their embrace the shorter man pushes the blonde backward and with a searing bite, he slams the count onto the disgustingly huge bed placed in the middle of his room. Breathless Lucio stares up at Iolas his bottom lip red and puffy from the bite, which only makes Lucio's slurry grin look even more dangerously attractive.

Iolas steps in between his lover's spread legs and uses one of his hands to tip the taller man's head back with a grunt. Lucio's hands wander over the man before him, knowing his place he doesn't try to switch their positions. He loves when Iolas gets pushy he knew if anyone could match him in greediness it would be his lover. Iolas however preoccupies himself with tracing his thumb over Lucio's red bottom lip till his nail presses a little too hard and draws just a few drops of blood to the surface of his lover's pale skin.

At the sight of this Iolas captures The count's lips once against and shamelessly sucks on the blood he just conjured. the kiss devolves as Iolas holds Lucio's head still with the grip on his hair and once the magician pulls back Lucio's face flushes at the sight of his blood dripping from his lover's lips. Lucio's voice comes out breathy and needy as he pulls against Iolas' grip on his hair. "Do that again."

[lizartgurl]

“Back To You” (Aqualad x OC)

PART THIRTEEN

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six)(part seven) (part eight) (part nine) (part ten) (part eleven) (part twelve)

@flamebiirds @super-spoiler @keanureevesislesbian @sapphicstargirl @princes-jasmine @the-shadow-of-atlantis

“Nightingale,” Kaldur’s voice was calm and clear. Only Emma heard the hitch in his voice as he struggled not to say her name.

“Nightingale, forget about me. Get them out of here, get them all out of here and get them to safety.”

Kaldur. The same old Kaldur she knew and loved. Selfless, kind, Kaldur, perfectly content to be the sacrificial offering if it meant everyone else made it.

Emma shook her head, and looked down at her hands.

The electricity came as naturally to her as breathing. She could feel it everywhere, in the static of their clothing, in the metal of the cages, even within their bodies.

“Breathe,” She could hear Kaldur’s voice in her ear. For months, for over a year, she’d been in pain. She lost a huge part of herself when he left her, and she never quite figured out how to be on her own, without a him by her side. 

But she didn’t have to be on her own. Even when she was without Kaldur, she still had the team. She still had Wally and Willow, Richard and Artemis, Conner, Megan, Mara, Tim, and everyone else.

The team she and Kaldur had helped build may have started out as proving to the adults that they could do anything, but it became a more than just a team. It became a second family, where they had each other’s backs on and off the field.

With Kaldur gone, she’d forgotten all about that. She’d let her anger fester in her heart and drive her away from the others who were just trying to help her.

The team didn’t feel the same without Kaldur, it didn’t feel right.

Whether or not they were together, Emma would rather have Kaldur in her life than never see him again. He was her friend, and she loved him.

Balancing on nothing but static, the metal cages began to float into the air. A bullet was fired, but stopped before it could even leave the chamber. Emma threw the cages at Rhodes and his men. Kaldur leaped to his feet and grabbed the girl from Rhodes, and they all made a break for the exit.

The traffickers hadn’t caught up to them by the time they reached Miiyahbin and the others, and Emma took that as a good sign.

“Keewhatin!” Equinox screamed, her throat hoarse in an attempt to drive back the Whitago.

As one Whitago lunged for Miiyahbin, Nightingale blasted it back with a lightning bolt.

“Go!” She screamed. The Women and older girls began herding everyone else down the beaten path, towards the rushing water of the river, while Aqualad, Nightingale, and Equinox faced the Whitago.

“How do we stop them?” Miiyahbin asked. Her air powers had blown away about half an hour ago, and there was no water nearby for her to use to adjust to her new phase of powers.

A bullet whizzed by, and Miiyahbin screamed. Kaldur caught her as she fell from the air, a thin stream of blood trickled from where the bullet had grazed her shoulder.

“You kids are gonna pay for what you’ve done here!” Rhodes screamed. One of his men had a machine gun, they just hadn’t loaded it yet.

“Get back to the village!” Nightingale grabbed Kaldur by the arm as she flew overhead, sending a blast of lightning back at Rhodes and his men.

She dropped him on the other side of the river so that he could destroy the bridge, hopefully leaving Rhodes and his men to duke it out with the Whitago.

“Equinox, are you alright?” Emma asked. She tore off her skirt, wrapping it around Miiyahbin’s arm to stop the bleeding. Miiyahbin nodded, dazedly.

Kaldur formed a giant hammer with both his water-bearers, and with a shout full of rage and fury, brought it crashing down to shatter the ice bridge just as Rhodes appeared from the tree line across the river.

“Go, go!” Aqualad formed a shield to block the bullets as he slowly backed after Nightingale and Equinox.

Hooty shrieked to signal their arrival, scaring by the dozens of women in the town square who were each being warmly received by the townspeople of Moose Factory with blankets and warm mugs of soup. Many parents were sobbing as they fell to embrace their daughters. Brother held sister, sister found sister after eons of separation.

“Miiyah!” Grandmother hobbled over from the women she left in the care of shy Benny and his wife.

Miiyahbin sobbed as she fell into her mother’s arms.

“You did it, my beautiful girl. You saved them. We are all safe now.”

“Not yet.”

Panting, Emma saw Kaldur, slumped over the railing of the Trading Post for support. She sprinted through the dusting of snow to hold him tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder, helping him stay upright as he ran his hands through her hair to calm his breathing.

Hooty shrieked again, more insistently this time, and flew down in front of Mid-Nite’s face as he tried to see to another trafficking victim.

“It’s not over yet, get those girls inside,” He warned the townspeople, nodding to the Post. Grandmother held the door open as the crying girls were herded inside, along with several townspeople to see to their needs.

“It’s only what, five guys? We can take them, can’t we?” Miiyahbin tried to roll her shoulders, and bit her lip to keep from screaming at the pain in her arm.

Grandmother glared at the grove of trees that blocked the route to Angelsport. “You know as well as I do, Miiyahbin, it is never that easy.”

Emma’s glove blinked, and she checked the message from home.

“We’ve got confirmation, help is en-route.”

“You really think the government is going to help us?” One of Heather’s fathers scoffed angrily as he loaded his rifle, like so many other fathers and men of Moose Factory. Those rifles were meant for a one-shot kill when hunting, not for battle. It wasn’t just the girls on the line, if Rhodes and his men got there, they weren’t going to leave any survivors.

Emma grinned smugly. “I didn’t say it was the government.”

Then, the village went silent. Moose Factory was still, not a movement was made, as a new, chilling wind made its way into the bones of everyone on the Island. The girls stuck inside the Post stopped crying, afraid that the slightest noise would tip off the bad guys. They held their breath, and waited.

The Whitago came first. Their roars were the chilling wind, their faces and amalgamation of the dead carcasses of wild animals and their original human forms. Kaldur cut off a pair of moose antlers to save a teenager whose hands were shaking too badly to shoot.

“No one is dying tonight,” Kaldur promised him, and then he disappeared back into the fight.

Emma grabbed a Whitago with a wolf’s jaw and gray eyes by the neck, keeping it back from her face as she kicked it in the gut, letting the electricity spread from the point impacted by her knee. The Whitago, yipped, and went silent. If only for a moment. They were already dead, they just kept coming back, re-forming when they were left alone for too long. The villagers outnumbered the Whitago, but they were getting tired, but the creatures were not.

“Miiyahbin, your word!” Grandmother gasped for breath.

Miiyahbin shook her head, “It doesn’t work on a group this size!”

Though blind, Mid-Nite avoided the lumbering creatures with ease, catching many by the shoulder and knocking them into each other.

The largest Whitago, evidently the leader, let out another roar that nearly knocked the Cree and the heroes off their feet. The standing Whitago, and many of the limp carcasses answered its call.

Like Clayface after an explosion, they began to blend together into one huge representation of the winter wilderness, growing taller and taller, until it loomed over the trading post.

“Open fire!” The sheriff shouted. Bullets pelted the chest of the giant, but it didn’t fall.

Before Emma could shoot her lightning at it, a small voice croaked out in the vague hope that people would hear.

“Duck!”

“Duck!” Miiyahbin echoed. Emma saw her standing by the owner of the voice. It was heather, still in her PJs, standing in the snow in her slippers, face pale, hair stringy and limp, as she raised her arms, palms face up, towards the Whitago. Her hands glowed softly for a moment as the townspeople, already frightened out of their wits, obeyed the sickly girl’s request. And then the Whitago was engulfed in flames.

Emma had tossed herself into the snow next to one of Heather’s dads. “How long has she been able to do that?” She asked.

He shook his head, eyes wide as he used his rifle to bring himself to his feet. “I didn’t know she could.”

The Whitago roared in pain, brushing the fire off and into the snow like a clump of dirt. People ran to avoid the fireballs.

“We can’t kill it, it’s already dead,” Emma bit her lip as she pulled Kaldur to his feet.

“How does Batman usually defeat Ra’s al Ghul?”

“It’s never permanent,” Emma grit her teeth,”And he’d never try to develop a way to...permanently get rid of him.”

Kaldur nodded, “How did they defeat Clayface last time?”

“Clayface? Kal, you’ve fought him with us. I already tried my lightning, it’s not some sort of morphic field that's holding it together, this is beyond me.”

“No, while I was undercover, Clayface escaped Belle Reve with an immunity to electricity that the Brain was testing on him, but he was still captured and returned to the Prison. What did the team do this time?”

Emma racked her brain. The team had been on so many missions, and being the leader most often saddled with writing reports, she was given the intimate details of most of them, but that didn’t mean she remembered all of them.

“Willow brought us a sample of a pill that was under development at STAR Taos. Under pressure, it would cause a tiny explosion to release liquid nitrogen, freezing you alive in cryo-stasis. I guess somehow Conner got Hagen to swallow it.”

She and Kaldur rolled behind the wall of the Post as the Whitago swung at them. The people inside screamed again.

“So, freezing it?”

Emma blinked. They were on an island in Canada, in the middle of snowy winter, there was plenty of stuff to freeze it with.

“Grab Miiyahbin,” She looked back at the Whitago, as many of the villagers were trying to climb the giant and cut it apart bit by bit. “I’ll clear a path for both of you.

“Good luck,” They said together, and dove into their tasks. Emma flew back and forth around the Whitago, distracting it and pulling the villagers away.

“Stand clear!” She warned them sharply when they tried to approach with their grappling hooks again.

“Clear!” She waved to Kaldur and Miiyahbin, on the roof of the Post.

“Ready?” Kaldur asked.

“Now or never,” She mirrored his pose, ready to scoop up the icy snow in piles and toss it at the Whitago.

As Kaldur and Miiyahbin summoned their powers, Emma set the villagers to work making snowballs, which they threw at the Whitago to distract it from moving towards the post, drawing it away and giving Equinox and Aqualad the time they needed to control enough water to freeze the Whitago. By the time it noticed what was happening, it was too late. The ice was past its feet and reaching its knees.

“It’s working!” Grandmother told Mid-Nite. She had a good arm for someone her age.

As the Whitago was completely frozen over, Emma got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

McNider approached her, the same grim look on his face as Hooty landed on his shoulder.

“Rhodes and his men escaped. Used some tunnels they built along the river to get back to their sub. I’m sorry.”

Emma nodded slowly. She should have taken out Rhodes while she had the chance. All the girls Rhodes and his men had taken were safe, but for how long? She couldn’t promise them any safety, not while Rhodes was still out there. At least Batman and the League had his information now, they could track him, she was sure of it.

Kaldur and Miiyahbin slid down from the rooftop as foghorns sounded in the distance, lights slowly approaching the dock over the water.

“Who’s that?” Heather whispered, her breath misting on the frozen air. Miiyahbin whispered her word, changing back into her coat and jeans.

“Wayne Foundations,” Emma said. She turned to Grandmother and the village elders. “They’ll be able to help the women and girls get back to their families, and have provisions to last the island for the rest of the winter.”

“How can we be sure?” Benny’s wife asked.

“I’ll make sure, I promise,” Emma said, “However, we still have a huge statue of Whitago we need to get rid of.”

Miiyahbin nodded, “That’s not gonna last through the spring thaw.”

Grandmother gave Kaldur and Emma a pat on the back. “You two can take care of that. You need to leave before they see you,” She nodded to the ships manifesting out of the fog.

“How?” the boy who Kaldur had saved asked.

Kaldur smirked, and stretched for a moment, before lifting the giant ice sculpture on his shoulder, much to the amazement of the gathered crowd.

“Thank you,” One voice was followed by a total chorus, and Emma turned to see many of the women and girls that they’d saved gathered on the porch, still huddled in blankets.

“You’re welcome,” That felt inadequate, but she couldn’t think of anything else to tell them.

“You’ve made it this far,” Kaldur said, not even buckling beneath the weight of the ice. His water powers had to help a little bit with that. “This will have its place, and it will pass.”

[trueduckweed]

Ignoring the large amount of evidence stating Philip is Belos (like them sharing the same theme, broken nose, facial scar, VA as of the final scene of ep 12, hair, affliction, similar sized ears, eyes, I could go on) Dana also retweeted a piece of art confirming it. He’s Belos. 

I have to ask, what do you expect or want from a colonizer and dictator character? They ARE pathetic self centered hateful pieces of shit irl. Belos should be characterized this way imo. Why would an English man from the mid 1600s be especially empathetic or self aware? Both in general and especially in a demon realm? It’s really the only accurate route I feel they could have taken with this, even if it means we don’t get the usual “uwu baby turns evil” story we usually get with villains. (I do expect him to have changed over time for the worse, but even pre Eclipse Lake I HIGHLY doubt he was great.) 

Here’s the full quote from the VA btw

“It’s rare that the part of an omnipotent, megalomaniac emperor comes along, so naturally I jumped at the chance of playing Belos. Almost frightening how comfortable I felt in his animated shoes. Some might say he’s the villain of the piece, but personally I believe he’s misunderstood.”

    He called him a megalomaniac two sentences before. And he IS the villain of the show in the most literal sense. I saw this as joking back when the post first came out, but even if he wasn’t? VAs don’t usually have full context for their characters. We don’t know how much Matthew knew about Belos at this point and we can’t take it as gospel. He said villain, not evil. Even if I’m not a fan of the term evil Belos/Philip is by no means a morally riotous person, let’s not ignore that. “The genocidal tyrant isn’t bad just misunderstood🥺” Isn’t a great message for this show to send, and it’s a show very focused on it’s messages. 

Philip and Belos act in incredibly similar ways, even Lilith points this out. He’s had vaguely 350 years to change. Yet the most notable changes in him just seem to be the attitude changes that come with a shift in a power dynamic. 

Also some smaller notes. Technically we don’t know when Belos claimed the family died. I believe Hunter is a Grimwalker but he talked of having a life before Belos so he probably wasn’t told it happened 16 years ago, constructed memories or not. Still a huge question mark though lol

Wild magic has no definition. It only seems to be defined by what Belos feels is uncontrollable at the time. Hence him blaming everything bad on it. He couldn’t exactly gain power by saying “I hate all of you” anyways. 

The lil guy appears to be Inner Belos! Just like how Willow had an older inner self and a younger one. We almost definitely know we are going into Belos’ mind in Hollow Mind considering the promos and episode description so yes! That’s Belos

Okay, okay.

I don't think Belos is Philip. I just don't think the twist may be THAT obvious; Dana is a very in-depth writer. Perhaps I'll be wrong in the end, and if I am I will be lightly disappointed, but here we go!

I believe Belos is Philip's son if anything. Or perhaps even his nephew to draw a parallel between Belos and Hunter. Philip is a hateful, spiteful man towards witches (and everyone in general) and we don't see much of that in Belos, in all honesty. He's much more...calculating and meticulous of a person/villain. He hates so-called "wild magic" and tells Hunter his family was wiped out 16 years ago because of it. Him telling Hunter this so nonchalantly honestly made me think it was just a straight deceptive lie at first, like most things Belos says/does are, but at the same time Belos' voice actor describes him as, "misunderstood rather than evil." A very strong, specific set of words! I now believe there may be a bit of truth in that statement that Belos told Hunter. I believe, if anything, Philip started a fight with witches over his hatred and ended up losing to them and being killed. Perhaps Philip could have indeed killed his brother but pinned it on wild magic. And perhaps Belos was the one being lied to. Perhaps in Belos being lied to about his family being killed by "wild magic," he's now passing the lie onto Hunter (and thus carrying out even more damage). He's hellbent on destroying wild magic and witches that wield it because he truly may believe it's dangerous due to his father/uncle's lies. Philip wouldn't be above manipulating others to believe the witches are out to get him for "no reason," after all. He literally manipulated Luz and Lilith immediately upon meeting them. This could also tie into Belos apparently having visited the human realm at one point. And Philip being related to Belos could explain why Lilith felt a sense of Deja Vu from the way Philip complimented/talked to her and Luz.

Perhaps it could also stand as a parallel between Belos and Hunter to Belos and Philip. Lies and deception in a cycle. And yes, that would still mean Belos is a human! Or at least...partially. Perhaps Belos still has to use artificial magic because he is not completely a witch. Plus, he's only been Emperor for 50 years, right? Then that timeline would make perfect sense if Philip's curse somehow involved immortality (remember: immortal does not equal invincible), but perhaps Belos' doesn't for some reason? Also I just don't believe someone who's been alive for, what, 500 years or so would ONLY be Emperor for 50 years! That just seem like a long time to be building up such a rank.

I also believe Belos is afflicted with the same curse his father/uncle, Philip, was inflicted with from unknown means. Likely by "wild magic" like they say Belos' was caused by. Or at least that's what Belos was told. They both need to consume Palismans to keep it at bay. Though it is also noted it has became worse in the past few years with Palisman wood becoming scarce. The Collector may be related to this affliction carrying on to Belos, perhaps, as well. The Collector is obviously involved in Eda's curse, so why not Philip's, and also by extension Belos'? Obviously a lot is still left to debate like with Hunter being a Grimwalker, the sacrifices, and Philip's dead brother, but as of now I'd like to safely set my cards down that Belos isn't Philip, rather, afflicted with the damage Philip caused and is thus spreading it further and carrying out his father/uncle's goals and views in a way. Perhaps he got the Grimwalker stuff from Philip since we see blueprints that look like a more simplified version of the current Grimwalker blueprints that Belos owns.

If anything, I believe this little creature below is Belos. If the mask alone isn't a dead give away, then surely the hair is. The bangs droop downwards rather than point up like Philip's. And, honestly, Philip's hair doesn't look like Belos' at all. Their eyes aren't the same colors (or shapes), and their noses aren't the same shapes even after Lilith punches him and after he absorbs a Palisman. I just think the twist of Belos being Philip is TOO obvious for Dana's liking. I can DEFINITELY see them being related, however!

That's just my two cents, though. I can't add many images on mobile of comparisons of stuff and perhaps I forgot a few things, but oh well! It has also been a hot moment since I've watched the show so I may be forgetting things shown in there. It just seems...boring if a deceptive, megalomaniac Emperor against "wild magic" due to it killing his family be a weird...rude, crybaby of a 1600's British human and his dead brother. That just doesn't feel right in a fantastical setting </3.

[jarienn972]

Only a Little Superstitious - Chapter 10

Finally had time to finish getting this chapter uploaded and edited.  (I’m still a little old-school in that all of my first drafts are hand written.) When we left off the last chapter, Killian was suffering from a post-surgical fever and isn’t yet aware that Emma had told Carlos everything about who they were and how they got to Arizona.  He’s not going to awaken in this chapter, but he’s definitely going to be the main topic of conversation...  Tagging @killian-whump  on this latest update (even though it’s mainly just angsty, not particularly whumpy) and if anyone else would like to be tagged for future updates, please let me know!  

AO3   FF.net  Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine

Sarah Bending Willow hadn't given the faintest indication of surprise when a huge metal hook tumbled out of a balled up red leather jacket as she lifted the garment from the bedroom floor but the sight of the shiny metal object had certainly unnerved her grandson. He couldn't fathom why anyone would be carrying around a giant hook – especially one they'd clearly been attempting to conceal. And his curiosity only increased when he located the black leather contraption that Mr. Jones had been wearing on his stumped left arm. Presumably, the sheath and harness system were used to house his prosthetic but what raised Carlos' suspicion was that the narrow opening in the piece that fitted over his blunted forearm appeared to be the same size and approximate shape as the tapered base of the sharpened hook. Despite Grandmother's insistence that he leave it alone, the park ranger found that the hook locked perfectly and precisely into the slot. Why would someone be in possession of a steel hook that fit into a prosthetic device unless that hook was said prosthetic?

He'd felt a degree of betrayal from these people they'd rescued and had stormed off to the hospital in Mesa to demand some answers from Mrs. Jones. He wanted to know exactly what they were trying to hide and Grandmother saw no use in attempting to stop him. He needed his answers but the old woman sensed they would come in time so she'd simply continued tidying up the small bedroom, removing and soaking the bedcovers to wash away the traces of sweat and blood then vacuuming up the remaining shards of the shattered mug. She had intended to salvage what she could of her guests' own clothing but as she lifted one of Killian's black leather boots from the floor, a chill coursed through her body – goosebumps breaking out across her arms as the eerie sensation grew stronger.

Her wide, dark eyes were drawn upward toward the window and she found herself moving slowly toward that window, guided by an unseen hand. She lost her grip on the boot, allowing it to tumble back to the floor while she reached out to gingerly grasp a corner of the pale yellow curtain. Her weathered fingers were trembling as she pulled the fabric aside – and then she spied the trickster through the dusty pane of glass – the mangy, skinny coyote that stared back at her with its soulless black orbs.

"Go away, Trickster!" the old woman shouted angrily. "You have no power here!" The animal pawed at the gravel surface of her driveway before trotting off and disappearing between the neighboring homes. She released the curtain and just stood there for a few seconds – although it felt decidedly longer – transfixed by what had just occurred. It had been many years since she'd last been spooked by a coyote's appearance outside her home and despite her best efforts to dismiss the uneasy feeling it had conveyed, she'd allowed the animal to get inside her thoughts. The trickster was never a good sign – forever a bad omen when one crossed your path but it waa not herself she feared for. The unnerving experience had begun the moment she'd touched Killian Jones' boot – perhaps just enough for the spirits to sense that she could understand the man's journey. A journey wrought with evil, yet one she believed was evolving - and now they had chosen her to guide the White Witch.

Snapping back to herself, she hurried out of the room in search of her cordless telephone, locating it atop the ornate table which sat beside her recliner in the living room. She didn't know if he'd answer since he'd departed here in such a huff nor did she know exactly where he was working today, but she rapidly punched in her grandson's cell phone number, quite thankful when he actually answered.

"Grandmother? Is everything okay?" Carlos asked. "You don't normally call me at this time of day…"

"Are you heading up to the mountains today or are you here in the city?" she countered his question with one of her own, only making him more concerned.

"I'm at the field office in Scottsdale. What's wrong, Grandmother? You sound really nervous or something..."

"The trickster paid me a visit while I was trying to finish cleaning the guest bedroom…"

"You saw a coyote?" He knew precisely what that superstition meant – an omen of evil – something his grandmother very strongly believed. "Which way was it headed?"

"West – toward the hospital."

The animal's direction was very important indicating the path evil spirits would follow and in this case, they were moving toward their new friends – the friends whose real identities he'd learned only a short while ago. He still clung to the belief that Grandmother may have already known that the Joneses weren't just a small town Sheriff and deputy and doubted she believed that the couple had ended up in the Superstition mountains purely by chance.

"Okay – I understand. What do you want me to do?"

"Come pick me up. I'll prepare a medicine pouch to help ward off the coming evil for now, but they aren't safe."

"I doubt they'll be able to go anywhere for a while… I'll talk to Tim Stillwater and see if he can step up security, but I'm pretty sure that Sheriff Jones can handle herself."

"This is a great evil, Carlos. I felt it – it's darkness. This is an ancient evil like none I've known…"

"Okay – I'm on my way and I've got one hell of a story to tell you about who your guests really are…"

"The White Witch. She is the White Witch from my vision," Grandmother stated bluntly. He didn't recall her ever mentioning a vision about a witch and didn't know how it related to Emma being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, but damn, if he wasn't incredibly curious now.

Abundantly thankful that he hadn't been scheduled for a shift up in the mountains today, Carlos Littlecreek slipped out of the field office early under their assumption that he was following up with the hikers he'd rescued. It wasn't entirely a lie but when the truth was that he was bringing his coyote-rattled grandmother to the hospital to warn the Joneses of evil spirits, it wasn't a difficult decision not to share the whole story. He was equally happy that he had the next two days off so he wouldn't need to explain any other potential absences – that was of course if all of this could be resolved in the next two days…

Grandmother stood just inside her screened door, anxiously awaiting his arrival as he pulled his own decade old Chevy Suburban into her driveway. She didn't wait for him to turn off the engine before she was out the door clutching a tan leather pouch intricately decorated with turquoise stones and brightly colored beads – her blessing bag as she'd called it since he was a boy. As she locked up her home, he noticed that she had changed her clothing from what she'd been wearing that morning, now clad in an off-white linen blouse adorned with bead work similar to the pouch she carried. She'd also loosened her hair, allowing her nearly waist-length pale locks to fall straight against her back. He knew she rarely went anywhere with her hair down so whatever had occurred was clearly affecting her in ways he couldn't comprehend. This was a side of Grandmother he didn't recall ever seeing before – at least not in the roughly thirty years he could remember.

The drive from her mobile park over to Mesa General Hospital took approximately twenty minutes in mid-afternoon traffic which allowed him time to relay the surprising conversation he'd had with Sheriff Emma. Grandmother had listened and nodded as he'd explained that the shiny steel hook they'd accidentally discovered belonged to Captain Hook, alter ego of Killian Jones who'd given up his life of piracy when he fell in love with and then married the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. He shared Emma's revelation that she possessed magical powers back in their home of Storybrooke – including the ability to heal. The elder woman had simply smiled at the news – almost aa though she'd already known - although Carlos doubted that she would ever reveal just how much she'd known about this mysterious couple before she'd sent him out to the Summit Trail to rescue them.

Now, her focus was only in making sure they were safe. That much Carlos knew for certain as they made their way inside the bustling hospital lobby. He had sent a message to Emma earlier to find out what room her husband was in, admitting to himself that he was genuinely concerned to learn that Killian was in the Intensive Care wing. Had there been complications from the surgery? What he'd witnessed that morning had without a doubt been worrisome and potentially life-threatening, but events seemed to have escalated and now they'd encountered another challenge – they weren't family and the hospital staff didn't intend to allow them to access the room. It took a little bit of bargaining and an intervening phone call from hospital security chief Tim Stillwater to gain them access to room 406 in the ICU wing but once they were finally able to obtain all of the necessary permissions, Carlos could almost see the relief in Emma's eyes. Being so far away from home, he and Grandmother were likely the closest they had to family right now.

"You look exhausted, child," Grandmother stated quite bluntly as she greeted Emma, clasping the younger woman's hands between hers. "Are the spirits wearing on you as well?"

"I don't know about 'spirits' but stress is definitely wearing on me," Emma replied with a deep sigh. "Killian still hasn't woke up and his temperature hasn't dropped at all. They've been drawing blood all afternoon for one test or another but they can't seem to isolate what's causing the fever."

"I fear he is being attacked by evil spirits," Grandmother insisted as she dug through the beaded blessing bag in search of the items she'd brought along.

"Evil spirits?" Emma repeated with a hearty degree of skepticism.

"Grandmother saw a coyote outside the guest room window earlier," Carlos attempted to explain, but the reference wasn't one that Emma was familiar with.

"I thought those were pretty common animals to find out here in the desert?" Emma asked, still unsure what a coyote might have to do with Killian's present malady.

"The Trickster – he is an omen of lurking evil – evil that is heading this way, although I fear that it may have already reached you," the old woman told her as she produced a much smaller, but nearly identical leather pouch from inside her blessing bag. The tiny bag was only about two inches square, decorated with similar intricate bead designs and from its lumpy appearance, contained some odd sized and shaped objects. "These will help hold the evil spirits at bay…," she stated, placing the pouch atop Killian's chest. "Turquoise stones are a powerful talisman to provide protection, but they cannot heal damage already done."

"You believe this might have something to do with his fever?" Emma wondered.

"Evil can manifest in many forms, so yes – the spirits may be causing this fever. They will not provide a cure, but they will protect him from the evil spirits trying to call him away. You will have to remove the traces of evil already placed upon him when your magic returns."

"My magic?" Emma responded with a nervous chuckle. "Okay, I see that Carlos filled you in on who we are and how we actually got here?"

"He did," Grandmother smiled broadly. "I am honored to have had royalty as a guest in my home."

"I'm hardly a princess," Emma scoffed. "I'm the one who's honored that you were willing to help a couple of strangers."

"And who's to say that you were strangers?" the old woman said cryptically. "I believe that I know your purpose here now."

"You do?" Emma was curious as to how their accidental trip through a portal might have some higher purpose.

"Many years ago – long before my grandson here was born, our gods brought a vision to me of a powerful being who would bring magic back to our mountains – a white witch who could wield her power with a hand that glowed like a burning sun. I believe you to be that witch from my vision…"

"I don't know…," Emma stammered. "Out here – away from Storybrooke or one of the magical realms, I'm just another person. My powers don't work here or I certainly wouldn't be sitting here watching my husband fight for his life…" That thought had undoubtedly been running through her head more than she'd like, but she couldn't change the fact that this was the Land Without Magic.

"The time will come. Perhaps when the Blood Moon arises in two evenings, the elements will align for you…"

"Blood moon?" Emma interrupted the elder woman. She'd heard that term too many times already for the astrological event to be merely a coincidence. "Did you just say blood moon?"

"Yes, child," Grandmother answered. "The Blood Moon arises once a year and will be at its peak the night after tomorrow."

"The sorceress who opened the damned portal had been rambling on about the blood moon too. At least that's what my family learned from her… Whatever she was trying to do with the portal or wherever she was attempting to go, it had something to do with the timing of that moon. No way this is a coincidence…"

"Not likely – even for a skeptic like me," Carlos interjected, curious how the events tied together. "I'm going to go have a chat with my friend, Tim and see if he can do anything about security. I won't mention any of this supernatural stuff, although he's Apache so it probably wouldn't throw him, but I will definitely let him know about this Kronk person who's been impersonating a US Marshal. He's very real and I want to make sure that we're looking out for the safety of you and the Captain here."

"Appreciate it," Emma stated. "We might be stuck here for a while." She took a sideways glance at her unconscious husband as the waterworks threatened to break through again. "Especially if whatever the hell is attacking him doesn't break its hold soon."

At home in Storybrooke, the mood wasn't any less somber as David powered down the computer at his temporary desk – technically Emma's desk – as his day at the Sheriff station drew to an end. As acting Sheriff, he'd been thankful it had been a relatively slow day, although the prince attributed that mostly to the fact that half of the town was still reeling from the sudden disappearance of their Sheriff and Deputy. Not many townsfolk knew that Emma and Killian had been dropped into the middle of the Arizona wilderness and while David had informed a few close to the family that his daughter and son-in-law were basically okay, he didn't want to elaborate on their status because he honestly didn't really know.

He was planning to be out of the station by five o'clock if everything stayed quiet so he made no attempt to hide his displeasure when the front door swung open and Regina strolled into the squad room.

"I was hoping you'd still be here," was the first thing out of her mouth. No hello, no greeting whatsoever. Just straight to business which only increased his irritation.

"Just getting ready to head out for the night," David replied, letting her know in no uncertain terms that his day was done. "What can I do for you at this hour, Regina?"

"Do you still have that dagger around here somewhere? Belle wants to compare the symbols carved on it with the ones on the scepter."

"Yeah, of course. It's in the safe. Let me go get it…" David pressed the power button on the monitor to turn it off before kneeling in front of Emma's office safe, rapidly dialing the combination. He yanked the heavy door open and retrieved the slightly rusted and bloodstained broken dagger from the rectangular wooden box he'd stored it in. He hadn't really taken any time to appreciate the intricacy and artistry of the designs carved into the handle which appeared to be bone or some type of lightweight stone. It was definitely old - really old – yet the detail of the carving was still visible as were the inlaid precious stones along the hilt. "I hadn't really noticed what a work of art this thing actually was. At the time I picked this up, I was a little more focused on the bloodstains than the craftsmanship."

"These were probably ceremonial in nature," Regina responded as he stood up and handed the weapon to her, presenting it handle first. As she took it from David's hand she immediately noticed that the object was emitting a very strong, very dark vibration. "Wow – this thing is emanating a lot of dark magic – ancient dark magic…"

"Doesn't surprise me. It may be aesthetically beautiful, but that thing just looks evil," David stated. "Are you going to take it with you or do you just need some pictures of it?"

"I'd rather just take it with me, if that's alright with you? Maybe I can find a spell that can remove some of the darkness this thing's giving off. Even Gold's dagger doesn't give off vibes like this…"

"It's fine with me," David replied, returning to the safe to get the wooden box before closing and locking the door. "I had it stored in here…" He handed her the box with its hinged lid open and Regina wasted no time returning the dagger to its container, flipping the lid closed and securing it with the leather loop and tiny hook on the front.

"Thank you. It will be much easier to carry that way – especially as sharp as that broken part looks." She tucked the box under her arm while David switched off the lamp on the desktop. "I know you're trying to get out of here, but have you heard anything more from Emma?"

"I talked to her about an hour ago. Hook was just out of surgery but I guess it didn't go without complications. It wasn't hard to tell by the sound of her voice that she's having a hard time… Really wish someone was there with her…" David's own voice cracked as he made his way across the squad room to turn off the rest of the lights, hoping Regina hadn't heard the change in tone.

"I can't exactly spare another Sheriff right now," she said as he flipped the lights off, leaving only the emergency lighting illuminating the room. "We'll find a way to get them home."

"By the sound of things, it could be a while," he lamented. "I guess things were going okay after the surgeon removed the dagger shard from Hook's chest, but then his fever started to go up…"

"David – did you just say that they pulled a piece of this dagger out of the pirate?" she interrupted, hastily grabbing the prince's arm to stop him before he opened the door to leave.

"Yeah. I thought the damned thing broke when that Kronk guy dropped it, but that's not what happened. I guess the point snapped off when that old rusty metal struck the pirate's spine and the piece got lodged in there…"

"This isn't good…," Regina muttered to herself but he heard her anyway.

"What isn't good?"

"You know how I said that the dagger is seeping with dark magic? Well, if that broken piece was inside Hook's body, he might be suffering from the effects of that dark energy…"

"But they're not in a realm with magic. How would it affect him there?"

"Even in a realm without magic, this kind of darkness could still be toxic. It might not manifest itself the same as it would here, but it could still work like a curse. It might manifest like a really bad case of the flu or something, but if you say he's already running a fever, we're going to need something quickly. I'll work with Zelena to see if we can put together a potion to counteract the darkness until we can get him back here and cure him properly."

"The potion won't cure him?"

"No – it's only a temporary fix. And a lot of this really depends on how much evil was soaked into that broken piece. Just please let Emma know what is going on and that we'll get the potion to her by courier as soon as possible. Guess I'd better make sure that Belle steps up her part too. I know we're close to figuring out how these things work so we can get that portal reopened."

"What do I tell Emma – that this might be a magical curse not a physical injury?" David asked her sarcastically. "The hospital will be treating this like an infection or something…"

"If it's magical in nature, as it likely is, nothing they give him will have any effect. He'll just keep getting weaker. The potion would ward off some of the dark magic and slow its progression, but we'll still need to rid him of it entirely as soon as possible or…" She paused there, not sure what was the best way to explain.

"Or what, Regina?"

"Or he'll eventually get so weak he won't be able to regain consciousness. We'll do what we can to buy as much time as possible, but we've got to get them both back to Storybrooke soon."

"Not sure how we'll accomplish that, but I guess you'd better go get to work on that potion and then we'll find a way to get it to Emma even if I have to fly it there myself."

"I'll have it ready by tomorrow. We'll need to get a place to ship it to but I'm sure we can find a courier who can get it to Phoenix by evening."

"Alright, I'll call Emma and let her know what's going on. I'll see if there's a place we can ship the potion to – maybe to the woman who helped them out yesterday? We certainly can't ship a magical potion to the hospital. Don't think that would be a good idea…"

"You're right on that," Regina replied. "We will figure something out – even if I have to send a dwarf to hand deliver it."

[yellowfeather84]

Hello! Could you please post the birth of Jemmy? I love that in it Brianna needs his father so much.. she takes all the strenght she needs in Jamie, his presence, his hands..only him, Claire helps her but we saw that without him she couldnt support this.. she is like a lost little girl who need the everything of her father, when she called him daddy I was about to cry.. for me this is when she became a proud daddy's scot girl, when she admit that Jamie is her real father, her 'world' in a way..

Of course! It’s such a great passage and definitely an experience that I’m sure Brianna never thought she would have her father there for.

“It’s like baseball,” I assured her. “Long stretches of boredom, punctuated by short periods of intense activity.” 

She laughed, then stopped abruptly, grimacing. 

“Ugh. Intense, yeah. Whew.” She smiled, a little lopsidedly. “At least at baseball games you get to drink beer and eat hot dogs in the boring parts.” 

Jamie, grasping at the only part of this conversation that made sense, leaned forward. 

“There’s a crock of small beer, cool in the pantry,” he said, peering anxiously at Brianna. “Will I fetch it in?” 

“No,” I said. “Not unless you want some; alcohol wouldn’t be good for the baby.” 

“Ah. What about the hot dog?” He stood up and flexed his hands, obviously preparing to dash out and shoot one. 

“It’s a sort of sausage in a roll,” I said, rubbing my upper lip in an effort not to laugh. I glanced at Brianna. “I don’t think she wants one.” Small beads of sweat had popped out quite suddenly on her wide brow, and she was looking white around the eye sockets. 

“Oh, barf,” she said faintly. 

Correctly interpreting this remark from the look on her face, Jamie hastily applied the damp cloth to her face and neck. 

“Put your head between your knees, lass.” 

She glared at him ferociously. 

“I can’t get … my head … near my knees!” she said, teeth clenched. Then the spasm relaxed and she took a deep breath, the color coming back into her face.

Jamie glanced from her to me, frowning worriedly. He took a hesitant step toward the door.

“I expect I’d best go, then, if you—” 

“Don’t leave me!” 

“But it’s— I mean, you’ve your mother, and—” 

“Don’t leave me!” she repeated. Agitated, she leaned over and grabbed his arm, shaking it for emphasis. “You can’t!” 

“You said I wouldn’t die.” She was staring intently into his face. “If you stay, it will be all right. I won’t die.” She spoke with such intensity that I felt a sudden spasm of fear clutch my own innards, hard as the pain of labor. 

She was a big girl, strong and healthy. She should have no great trouble delivering. But I was large enough, healthy as well— and twenty-five years before, I had lost a stillborn child at six months, and nearly died myself. I might be able to protect her from childbed fever, but there was no defense against a sudden hemorrhage; the best I could do under such circumstances would be to try to save her child via Caesarian section. I resolutely kept my eyes off the chest in which the sterile blade lay ready, just in case. 

“You’re not going to die, Bree,” I said. I spoke as soothingly as I could, and put a hand on her shoulder, but she must have felt the fear under my professional facade. Her face twisted, and she grabbed my hand, clinging so tightly the bones rubbed together. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, but didn’t cry out. 

She opened her eyes and looked straight at me, her pupils dilated so that she seemed to be looking past me, into a future that only she could see. 

“If I do …” she said, putting a hand to her swollen belly. Her mouth worked, but whatever she’d been meaning to say couldn’t force its way out. 

She struggled to her feet, then, and leaned heavily on Jamie, her face muffled in his shoulder, repeating, “Da, don’t leave me, don’t.” 

“I willna leave ye, a leannan. Dinna be afraid, I’ll stay wi’ ye.” He put an arm around her, looking helplessly over her head at me. 

“Walk her,” I said to Jamie, seeing her restlessness. “Like a horse with colic,” I added, as he looked blank. 

That made her laugh. With the ginger air of a man approaching an armed bomb, he put an arm around her waist and towed her slowly around the room. Given their respective sizes, it sounded a lot like someone leading a horse, too.

“All right?” I heard him ask anxiously, on one circuit. 

“I’ll tell you when I’m not,” she assured him. 

It was warm for mid-May; I opened the windows wide, and the scents of phlox and columbine flowed in, mixed with cool, damp air from the river. 

The house was filled with an air of expectation: eagerness, with a hint of fear beneath. Jocasta walked up and down the terrace below, too nervous to stay put. Betty put her head in every few minutes to ask if anything was needed; Phaedre came up from the pantry with a jug of fresh buttermilk, just in case. Brianna, her eyes focused inwardly, merely shook her head at it; I sipped a glass myself, mentally checking off the preparations. 

The fact was that there wasn’t a hell of a lot you needed to do for a normal birth, and not the hell of a lot you could do if it wasn’t. The bed was stripped and old quilts laid to protect the mattress; there was a stack of clean cloths to hand, and a can of hot water, renewed every half hour or so from the kitchen copper. Cool water for sipping and brow-mopping, a small vial of oil for rubbing, my suture kit to hand, just in case— and beyond that, everything was up to Brianna. 

After nearly an hour’s walking, she stopped dead in the middle of the floor, gripping Jamie’s arm and breathing through her nose like a horse at the end of a twenty-furlong race. 

“I want to lie down,” she said. 

Phaedre and I got her gown off, and got her safely onto the bed in her shift. I laid my hands on the huge mound of her belly, marveling at the sheer impossibility of what had happened already, and what was about to happen next. 

The rigidity of the contraction passed off, and I could clearly feel the curves of the child below the thin rubbery covering of skin and muscle. It was large, I could tell that, but it seemed to be lying well, head down and fully engaged. 

Normally, babies about to be born were fairly quiet, intimidated by the upheaval of their surroundings. This one was stirring; I felt a small, distinct surge against my hand as an elbow poked out. 

“Daddy!” Brianna reached out blindly, flailing as a contraction took her unaware. Jamie lunged forward and caught her hand, squeezing tight. 

“I’m here, a bheanachd, I’m here.” 

She breathed heavily, face bright red, then relaxed, and swallowed.

“How long?” she asked. She was facing me but not looking at me; she wasn’t looking at anything outside. 

“I don’t know. Not an awfully long time, I don’t think.” The contractions were roughly five minutes apart, but I knew they could continue like that for a long time, or speed up abruptly; there was simply no telling. 

There was a light breeze from the window, but she was sweating. I wiped her face and neck again, and rubbed her shoulders. 

“You’re doing fine, lovey,” I murmured to her. “Just fine.” I glanced up at Jamie, and smiled. “So are you.” 

He made a game try at returning the smile; he was sweating, too, but his face was white, not red. 

“Talk to me, Da,” she said suddenly. 

“Och?” He looked at me, frantic. “What shall I say?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Tell her stories; anything to take her mind off things.” 

“Oh. Ah … will ye have heard the one about … Habetrot the spinstress?” 

Brianna grunted in reply. Jamie looked apprehensive, but started in nonetheless. 

“Aye, well. It happened that in an old farmhouse that stood by the river, there lived a fair maid called Maisie. She’d red hair and blue een, and was the bonniest maid in all the valley. But she had no husband, because …” He stopped, appalled. I glared at him. 

He coughed and went on, plainly not knowing what else to do. “Ah … because in those days men were sensible, and instead of looking for lovely lasses to be their brides, they looked out for girls who could cook and spin, who might make notable housewives. But Maisie …” 

Brianna made a deep inhuman noise. Jamie clenched his teeth for a moment, but went on, holding tight to both her hands. 

“But Maisie loved the light in the fields and the birds of the glen …” 

The light faded gradually from the room, and the smell of sun-warmed flowers was replaced by the damp green smell of the willows by the river, and the faint scent of woodsmoke from the cookhouse. 

Brianna’s shift was wet through, and stuck to her skin. I dug my thumbs into her back, just above the hips, and she squirmed hard against me, trying to ease the ache. Jamie sat with his head down, clinging doggedly to her hands, still talking soothingly, telling stories of silkies and seal catchers, of pipers and elves, of the great giants of Fingal’s Cave, and the Devil’s black horse that passes through the air faster than the thought between a man and a maid.

The pains were very close together. I motioned to Phaedre, who ran away and came back with a lighted taper, to light the candles in the sconces. 

It was cool and dim in the room, the walls lit with flickering shadows. Jamie’s voice was hoarse; Brianna’s was nearly gone. 

Suddenly she let go of him and sat up, grabbing at her knees, face dark red with effort, pushing. 

“Now, then,” I said. I stacked pillows quickly behind her, made her lean back against the bedstead, called Phaedre to hold the candlestick for me. 

I oiled my fingers, reached under her shift, and touched flesh I had not touched since she was a baby herself. I rubbed slowly, gently, talking to her, knowing it made no great difference what I said. 

I felt the strain, the sudden change under my fingers. A relaxation, then once more. There was a sudden gush of amniotic fluid, that splashed across the bed and dripped on the floor, filling the room with the scent of fecund rivers. I rubbed and eased, praying that it would not come too fast, not tear her. 

The ring of flesh opened suddenly, and my fingers touched something wet and hard. Relaxation, and it moved back, away, leaving the ends of my fingers tingling with the knowledge that I had touched someone entirely new. Once more the great pressure, the stretching came, and once more eased slowly back. I pushed back the edge of the shift, and with the next push the ring stretched to impossible size, and a head like a Chinese gargoyle popped out, with a flood of amniotic fluid and blood. 

I found myself nose to nose with a waxy-white head with a face like a fist, that grimaced at me in utter fury. 

“What is it? Is it a boy?” Jamie’s hoarse question cut through my startlement. 

“I hope so,” I said, hastily thumbing mucus from nose and mouth. “It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen; God help it if it’s a girl.” 

Brianna made a noise that might have started as a laugh, and turned into an enormous grunt of effort. I barely had time to get my fingers in and turn the wide shoulders slightly to help. There was an audible pop, and a long, wet form slithered out onto the soggy quilt, wriggling like a landed trout. 

I seized a clean linen towel and wrapped him— it was him, the scrotal sac swelled up round and purple between fat thighs— checking quickly for his Apgar signs: breathing, color, activity … all good. He was making thin, angry noises, short explosions of breath, not really crying, and punching the air with clenched tiny fists. 

I laid him on the bed, one hand on the bundle as I checked Brianna. Her thighs were smeared with blood, but there was no sign of hemorrhage. The cord was still pulsing, a thick wet snake of connection between them. 

She was panting, lying back on the crushed pillows, hair plastered wetly to her temples, an enormous smile of relief and triumph on her face. I laid a hand on her belly, suddenly flaccid. Deep inside, I felt the placenta give way, as her body surrendered its last physical link with her son. 

“Once more, honey,” I said softly to her. The last contraction shivered over her belly, and the afterbirth slid out. I tied off the cord and cut it, and placed the solid little bundle of her child in her arms. 

“He’s beautiful,” I whispered. 

I left him to her, and turned my attention to immediate matters, kneading her belly firmly with my fists, to encourage the uterus to contract and stop the bleeding. I could hear the babble of excitement spreading through the house as Phaedre rushed downstairs to spread the news. I glanced upward once, to see Brianna glowing, still smiling from ear to ear. Jamie was behind her, also smiling, his cheeks wet with tears. He said something to her in husky Gaelic, and brushing the hair away from her neck, leaned forward and kissed her gently, just behind the ear. 

“Is he hungry?” Brianna’s voice was deep and cracked, and she tried to clear her throat. “Shall I feed him?” 

“Try him and see. Sometimes they’re sleepy right afterward, but sometimes they want to nurse.” 

She fumbled at the neck of her shift and pulled loose the ribbon, baring one high, full breast. The bundle made small growf noises as she turned it awkwardly toward her, and her eyes sprang open in surprise as the mouth fastened on her nipple with sudden ferocity. 

“Strong, isn’t he?” I said, and realized that I was crying only when I tasted the salt of my tears running into the corners of my smile. 

Sometime later, with mother and child cleaned up and made comfortable, food and drink brought for Brianna, and a last check assuring that all was well, I walked out into the deep shadows of the upper gallery. I felt pleasantly detached from reality, as though I were walking a foot or so off the ground. 

Jamie had gone down to tell John; he was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. He drew me into his arms without a word and kissed me; as he let me go I saw the deep red crescents of Brianna’s nailmarks on his hands, not yet faded. 

“Ye did brawly too,” he whispered to me. Then the joy in his eyes bloomed bright and flowered in a face-splitting grin. “Grannie!”

[anneedmonds]

Weekly Window Shop: The Best Pink Beds

I know that it’s entirely possible that pink velvet is going to be one of those fleeting trends that disappears into the interiors ether as quickly as it arrived, but please humour me. Because I’ve always wanted a pink bed. Not the type of pink bed that looks as though it’s been stolen from an eighties prom queen, with Pepto Bismol woodwork and frilly polyester skirting that presents a worrying fire risk. No, I’m talking cool pink beds; vintage shapes, muted shades of rose, non-crushed velvets and legs of brass and wood.

Quite honestly, I would have gone for something pink years ago had it not been for Mr AMR, who is of the hard-edged no-pastels modernist school of interiors; only now that I have my own room to decorate can I fully unleash my decorating desires. Now that I have my studio, with its dual-aspect windows and soothing views and steady, flat northern light (excellent for filming in), I feel like a teenager again – a world of possibilities in terms of paint and furniture and lighting… And no clue where to start.

Which is why my studio room set (aka Ted’s Old Bedroom) sits forlorn and empty, furnished with oddments of furniture and the weird, badly-sized bed that Mr AMR bought from America a few years ago. (There’s a huge gap between mattress and frame – you could almost lose a child down it.) The walls need re-plastering, the radiator needs moving and the air is freezing (which is why Ted only stayed in it for about two weeks before we moved him); it’s really hard to get motivated to make any plans. I mean it’s beautiful, original Georgian windows and fireplace and all, but white paint with the north light makes for an inspiration-sapping combo.

So I’m starting with the bed and it’s going to be pink. To warm things up. I’ve given this a lot of thought, so don’t try and talk me out of it. The overall style of the room will be “Handful of mid century, mixed with a huge dose of vintage, with some country house cool” – plush fabrics, decadent prints, some rich wood, a smidgen of antiqued brass – Babington House meets, well, Babington House.

(I spend a lot of time at Babington House, in case you hadn’t picked up on that from various vlogs and stories; it’s my local. Local gym, local pub, local restaurant, local anything. Pretty lucky place to land as your local, but there you go. The only problem is that it’s going to cost me a potential fortune in redecorating fees – I see a little quirk I feel inspired by every time I walk in through the door and then wheee, off I go into a fantasy world of art collections and artisan wallpapers and interesting table lamps.)

(Soho Home have an amazing bed called The Manette. It’s just so cool and interesting and all of the things I wanted to be at school and I’m sorely tempted to get it for our actual bedroom. Y’know, to sleep in, and not as part of a studio background. Mr AMR complains about our current bed because the end bit (foot? footboard?) restricts his leg movement. Don’t even ask, but I feel as though that gives me an excuse to buy one with more leg room…)

Anway, back to pink beds, which is the priority here; I’ve rounded up my favourites for the studio below. For those wondering what the hell this studio is; it’s where I shoot most of my videos. Except you’d never know because it just looks like a white wall. I want it to look more like my bedroom – fantasy bedroom – with all of the interesting things Mr AMR hates. Although if I make it too nice then Mr AMR will find himself in trouble, because I might take a shine to it and move myself in!

My pick of the best pink beds:

Conran Elycia Bed Frame, from £899 here.

This one triggered off the original pink bed obsession. I just loved the deco-style simplicity of the headboard and the fact that the bed didn’t cost as much as a brand new Fiat 500.

The same Conran range has another lovely bed frame called the Avery, which is very similar to the…

…Margot Bed Frame from Made.com, £649 here*.

Be still, oh be very still, my spendaholic heart. Actually, this is the most affordable of the pink bed bunch and would make my accountant incredibly happy. The way they’ve dressed it in some of the web pictures makes it look a bit like a sofa bed but you can see from the undressed image that it’s a very fine shape indeed.

Dark wood legs with brass tips, beautiful dusty pink velvet, rock and roll headboard shape. Tick, tick, bloody well tick.

Raul Bed Frame, from £899 at Barker & Stonehouse here.

Prepare to be very divided because this is the one I’m least sure on. I’ve included it as a wild card because I love the slouchy cushions attached to the headboard but at the same time I’m not sure whether it’s a little too retro for my current tastes.

Either way, it’s a funky addition to my edit. And it’s pink. The least “pretty” option, if you’re after something slightly more edgy! That’s assuming you’re after anything at all…

Ariel Bed, from £2410 at Sweetpea & Willow here.

I mean, please: what gorgeousness lies before us here? This is girly bed perfection, surely? I actually felt slightly sick with lust when I saw this bed, but then I configured it in pink velvet and felt sick for an entirely different reason, because the price shot up to over £3300 and I knew that it was way out of my dreamy reach.

But look! The wicker peacock chair! It’s as though this bed was made for me! I could almost recreate this entire room set and wouldn’t even have to paint my walls. If I just skimmed over the patches where the drainpipe leaked water through the wall then we’d be good to go…

Right, party people: which is your favourite? All of the above come in grey as well, by the way, in case you’re looking for something a little more subdued. Actually the Conran bed, Ariel bed and Raul bed all come in a load of different fabric options – it’s a bit like upholstering a sofa – and the Margot bed from Made.com comes in grey and also teal. I do love teal, but it’s such a strong colour that I really feel that it might be a bit unworkable and extreme once the fad for it dies down…

        The post Weekly Window Shop: The Best Pink Beds appeared first on A Model Recommends.

Weekly Window Shop: The Best Pink Beds was first posted on February 19, 2019 at 10:36 pm. ©2018 "A Model Recommends". Use of this feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this article in your feed reader, then the site is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact me at contact@amodelrecommends.com Weekly Window Shop: The Best Pink Beds published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley

[mikhail2b9w-blog]

Installing Fencing Around Your Home

If you are thinking of setting up fencing around your new home, there are a few things to think of before you do so.

1. Precisely what is the fences function?

2. What types or styles of the fence do I like?

3. What kind of fence will get the job done I need it to do?

4. What will it cost?

5. Can I install it myself?

6. AND essential, so I understand where my property lines are?

TOOLS REQUIRED-.

Post hole digger, long managed pointed shovel, string line, determining tape, power saw with plastic cutting blade, extension cables, concrete blending tub, 4' level. A tripod and scale can be rented and if your home or business is sloped, will be available in helping to keep lines of fencing level as you step down (or up) in different areas, safety glasses and good work gloves. A wrench is required to tighten up clamp bolts, but a great ratchet and socket will save a great deal of time.

PRODUCTS-.

Fencing with all appropriate fittings, caps, rails, and so on

. Concrete Redi-mix, (bagged).

Nails.

Paint or stain for wood fencing.

A couple of wood scraps for temporary braces.

There are many, numerous types of fencing available today including chain link, wood, aluminum, plastic, PVC to call just a couple of. All are fences but have different capabilities to do various tasks. If you are putting a wall up to contain a 150-pound pit bull, a soft plastic roll type fence sure won't work. If you are putting a wall as much as protecting your garden, soft plastic roll fencing or chicken wire fencing may get the job done. Identify what the wall is for, and that will lead you to the kinds of fencing offered for your function. For our example, let's state we are putting a fence as much as safeguard an in-ground pool. Numerous fencing types will work well for this application. Chain link, steel, wood, and PVC all can be found in high strength materials. An in-ground swimming pool needs a 48" high fence minimum in most states when these types are examined, they all come in that height.

PVC fencing can be found in numerous heights, is durable and long-lasting and offers vertical slats that are acceptable for a swimming pool fence. Although high-end on the rating scale, PVC fencing has a long life and needs little maintenance other than periodic washing. This fence has locking gates, finials, corner posts and other decorative devices that can be contributed to produce a stunning fenced in area by your pool. Do It Yourself Self setup? The majority of useful property owners can do this work and with a little time and care can produce a well-finished item.

Wood fencing is available in lots of designs and heights. Panels usually are 8' in length so will be had to handle these large pieces. Wood fencing requires support posts set in concrete and can be modified by cutting and re-nailing for odd shapes and obstacles.

Chain link fencing comes in galvanized (gray), black and green wire colors. Plastic covered types are also available. Chain link can be found in rolls varying from 4' to 12' large. Top, middle and bottom rails might be required to support the fencing and keep it straight and tight. Fencing is held to steel upright posts set in concrete, with heavy gauge wire loop ties. A unique tool is needed to flex these ties. Another unique device called a "come-a-long" is required to stretch the fencing securely in between posts before connecting.

Various evaluates (thickness') of wire is offered, and you get exactly what you pay for. Thin wire types will have a much shorter lifespan than much heavier wire. This fencing is not low-cost to buy or install so invest well for extended period use.

Soft plastic roll fencing usually can be found in 4' full rolls. Steel or wood support posts are required for mounting the fence. This type of fencing is thought about momentary use just and is often seen in building and construction websites and along highways. Fence posts can be driven in with a sledgehammer and may have pre-made hooks on them to engage the holes in the fencing. This fencing is economical and thought about nonreusable. Wind does a real mean job on this fence and needs high upkeep.

INSTALLATION-.

Layout-Carefully layout your fence line so you can measure the length, corner posts, gates, etc. that you will require for the job. Gates comes in 3', 4', 6' and 8' widths. Bigger widths are available in different order. DOCUMENT the measurements. Do not try and keep in mind when you get to the store. With your measurements in hand, get a beverage, and we will determine what you require. Corner posts are simple to count. The number of corners have you put in the fence? Let's say 4 for this example. Jot down four corner posts. Gates. The number of do you want and what size? Is there yard inside the fenced area? Do you have to go inside with your yard tractor to cut? Ensure at least one gate is broad enough.

Ok, we decided we need one 3' gate for a pathway and one 6' gate for mowing, cleansing, and so on. COMPOSE it down on your products list. In our example, our fence is 36' long on each side to form a square. Gates are one in each of two sides. For that reason, the other two sides require 2 x 36' of fencing or 72'. WRITE it down. One side has a 6' gate, so 30' of fencing is needed. The other gate is 3' large, so 33' of fencing is required for the east side. Now include all the fence figures together, and we discover we need 135' of fencing required. Posts-If we know the fencing we have chosen is available in 6' lengths we will need a post every 6' feet and each side of each gate. A little math reveals we require 25 posts. One post every 6', plus one extra to hold the 3' gate. WRITE it down. You will utilize approximately one bag of bagged concrete per post for anything over 4' high. These are your primary products plus some misc. Nails and scrap lumber for braces are likewise needed. Acquire your products and place in the location they are to be set up.

Pressure treated fence posts come in both round and square shapes. Lengths usually vary from 6' to 12' long. Why so long? If you are setting up a 6' fence, you will need to bury a minimum of 3 feet in the ground to support it. That indicates a 9' post. Posts can be found in other wood types as well. Cedar, redwood, and willow posts are still offered in some areas. Willow posts if left neglected can re-root and develop a "living" fence in wet locations.

SETUP-.

Do we have all our materials? OK let's go. Starting in one corner, dig your very first post hole.

Don't cheat. A shallow hole will weaken your fence and reduce its lifespan. A 12" large gap is acceptable for fence posts. Now continue down one side of the fence line up until all the holes are dug. If you are utilizing a pair of hand post hole diggers, your arms are now worn out. If you are using a power post hole auger that you leased, it should make short work of this task. Place your two end posts in their holes. Plumb them utilizing your 4' level and set up two temporary braces on each to hold them plumb. With this done I'm going to save you some work here. Put a bag of the bagged of concrete into each hole DRY. OH, OH. Where is the pavement? Didn't you get it? Did you write it down? If you recall I didn't tell you to. OK. Get the concrete; you require a break anyhow. Seriously, it is a great routine to begin to write down all the products you need before you go shopping. It conserves a lot of time and extra trips.

OK now with a dry bag of concrete in each hole; connect your garden pipe without a nozzle. Start positioning water on top of the bare pavement and by utilizing your shovel to prod the concrete in an up and down movement and pressing the pipe in and out of the concrete it will blend right in the hole. Don't make it too wet. Somewhat soupy is excellent but try not to separate the components with too much water. There are several brands of red-mix bagged concrete readily available, and they will all work in this manner.

You can now start on the holes for the 2nd side while the concrete dries for the very first two posts. Carry out the same function with the next corner post and the Fourth post until all corner posts are set in concrete. Go back to your very first two posts. Utilizing your string line, connect it to the first post and run it to the next corner post and connect it off making it as taut as you can between the positions. MAKE CERTAIN THE STRING IS TIGHT AGAINST THE VERY SAME SIDE OF BOTH POSTS. If you use the within or outside it doesn't matter as long as they are both the very same. Now you can set up the mid posts without a lot of measuring. By merely pacing the job versus the string, you will have them all in the same line. Inspect carefully that your spacing is appropriate between positions. The posts might be off center of the holes, but that's OKAY. With all the posts in on one side, pour them in concrete. Try not to leave holes open overnight both for defense against rain and children or animals falling into them. Work your way around your fencing till all the posts are set.

Fencing-Each kind of fencing has its setup methods.

Wood fencing can be cut with a hand or circular saw for both height and length if needed. Use good quality galvanized nails or screws to affix the wood panels to your posts. Nail a minimum of 12" on center to assure excellent support for the panels. Wind can cause severe damage to a fence that is not nailed correctly. Keep the panel tops level. Absolutely nothing looks even worse than a fence with sloping or irregular tops. If the ground level changes, make a step in the top of the fence to accommodate the slope, however in all cases keep the leading level. Lots of states have laws regarding who gets to "see" the silver lining of the fence. In my area, the rear neighbor sees the wrong side; the next-door side neighbors see the right team. The front has the silver lining typically to the street for the look. Your region might have its local laws governing this and front lawn fence heights. Examine initially before your install your fence.

Chain link fencing has a various set of installation rules, and multiple devices are had to do the work. Post setting is the very same other than the posts are steel.

Ask your seller for post spacing suggestions for the height fence you acquired. After setting the posts and pouring the concrete, you need to unroll the wall along with the posts. Slide in an end bar which is a flat piece of metal the height of your fencing. Carefully standing the end of the fence up against the first post, location end clamps around the job and the end bar and insert the supplied bolts anchoring the wall to the position.

Now when you stretch the fence, you are pulling on the post and the bar not on the fencing itself.

Wire ties can be found in differing lengths and assesses. A unique wire tool is available that will flex the loop around the chain link. Ask your dealership. Pliers can be used however are the lot a harder. Purchase the tool.

Once you have the chain link secured to the first post, you need to extend the fencing to obtain a tight condition in between the positions. Chain link does stretch and will sag if not pulled securely. Using another end bar, insert it at the other end of your fence run, at a corner or a minimum of several posts away from your start point. Wrapping the come-a-long around the post and hooking to the end (termination) bar. By cranking the come-a-long uptight, you will pull the fence tight from end to end.

Offered at hardware or tool shops, Come-A-Long will hook to the post on one end, and the hook will link to the end or termination bar for pulling. By cranking the deal with, you draw in the cable television pulling the fencing tight.

Once you have the fencing pulled tight, you can begin setting up the wires ties on the periodic post, tying the fence to the posts. Using a minimum of 3 times per post, location one on at the bottom, middle and the top of the post. When all the jobs are connected, you can thoroughly release the come-a-long and carry on to the next area of the fence. Corners are a bit tricky to obtain the fencing tight but after a couple of posts are done, you will master it.

The remember-each time you end the fence, you must install an end or termination bar. A 4-foot wall requires a minimum of three clamps per bar. If your wall is more than 4 feet, you might wish to set up a top rail to keep the material from flexing. You could use one on a 4-foot fence as well, but it usually is not needed.

If your goal is to keep rodents from your garden, you can bury a foot approximately of the fence fabric below ground as many rodents burrow just a few inches below grade.

Plastic or PVC Fencing- These fences are typically luxury (pricey) products but due to their long-lasting appearance and deficient maintenance, are ending up being preferred today. Unless you enjoy staining your wood fence each year, this may be the way to go.

Setup is substantially the same as wood or chain link as far as post-installation goes but extra care should be the rule when managing and screw the sections together to prevent spoiling the PVC finish. A goof here in cutting or scratching the surface will be long-lasting.

FINDING Your Fence -.

If you are placing your fence leads around your garden or swimming pool, chances are you will not come across a conflict with property lines. However, if you are setting up a property line fence, MAKE SURE you know where the property lines are located. Bushes, tree lines or stone walls are NOT an excellent and dependable indicator of property lines. You might have been trimming an area of the yard for years, but that does not make it your house.

Property corners (typically a steel pipe or concrete monument) can be located from your website plan, or survey map DO NOT GUESS where your home or business lines are located. Have the lot surveyed and right corners markers set. This way your investment in your fence will not be lost.

Fencing is typically a numerous weekend task however with a little care you can have a beautiful completed project and save a good deal of loan on labor.

Get to know more information click here Fencing leads

[terraencounters-blog-blog]

This story is about the very foundation of the country of Canada.  We visited an actual fur trading post with buildings dating from the 19th century.  Did you know that this historic trading post was in use until 1951!!!

You can step back in time and see the largest collection of heritage wooden buildings, restored and restocked to what it used to looked like.  But the most important part was listening to the stories of the interpreters in period costume who gave us a glimpse of what it was to like to live then.  It was not an easy life.  Imagine living here at -30°C (-22°F) or colder with no central heating, no insulation and no running hot water!

Northern BC

Northern BC is the top 1/3 of the province of British Columbia (BC).  Only 256,977 people live in area 3% bigger than France and 34% bigger than California!!  And that’s just 1/3 of the province of BC.

Itinerary Map

The Mt Robson to Furs and Jade Map was created to show the sigh and accommodation that comprise this part of our trip.  The itinerary has been subdivided into segments of one day-drives including sightseeing.

Where to Stay

Mt Robson Provincial Park

Hotels are not convenient to Mt Robson PP  There are several located in Valemount 37 km south but last summer they were over-priced in the $180 to $225 range.  The next closest town is McBride 80 km to the north with more reasonable units available starting at $95.

There are also no supermarkets, cafés, and restaurants in the vicinity of Mt Robson Provincial Park (PP).  We always bring a sturdy crate with non-perishable food for these reasons.

Robson Meadows Campground (tent site $28) is open circa May 18 to Sept 16.  It is right across Hwy 16 from the visitor centre so it a very good location with those glorious views of Mt Robson.  It is not convenient for Jasper NP but we used it as our jumping off point for Northern British Columbia (BC).  Another campground is found at Lucerne 51 km further east, and two more PP campgrounds to the west of Mt Robson.

Fort St James National Historic Site

Since we arrived late at the Fort St James NHS, we wanted to continue the tour the next day.  Fort St James is also an FN town with three hotels.  We do not know how busy it gets as we easily got a room at the last minute at 17:00 hrs.  We stayed at The View hotel ($138) right behind the site.  In addition to local camping and hotels, one can also stay in the town of Vanderhoof, which has lots of hotels and restaurants since it is on the Yellowhead Hwy.  But you would have to commute 61 km (41 mins.) north on Hwy 27.

Where to Go

We just woke up to another glorious sunny day with clear views of Mt Robson shown above.

The scenery heading west was not as dramatic so we stopped at the end of the PP to have a look at the good views behind us.  After that we saw only wide open spaces (farmland).  Did we mention that hardly anyone lives up in Northern BC?

McBride

The Beanery © 2017

The Beanery © 2017

Needless to say, one has to stop in little villages to get one’s morning cup of coffee.  So our first stop was McBride, population 616.  The old train station was converted into a cosy coffee shop, The Beanery, decorated with old-fashioned memorabilia.  It felt like dropping into someone’s house with the owner preparing dishes for lunch right next to the “living room” area.  One local regular client sat on the sofa and talked with us.

Prince George

Prince George is a city of 73,000 people.  Here is where we stocked up on food – you have a wide choice of stores.  But Costco and Real Canadian Superstore are right along the Yellowhead Hwy 16 on the south side of town past the Cariboo Hwy 97 exit.  There are no large towns heading north to Whitehorse (Yukon) so you need to resupply here.

Fort St. James National Historic Site

In the 19th century, this was the “neighbourhood” trading post.  Imagine you had to paddle hundreds of kilometres to get to it.  Fort St James (FSJ) was founded in 1806 by explorer Simon Fraser and remained in use until 1951!!  FSJ was the HQ for New Caledonia,  the Latin name for Scotland and original English name for British Columbia.

From here the furs could be transported down the “fur highway” (my nickname) from Prince George to Vancouver.  It is called the Fraser River in his honour.  Simon Fraser University (SFU) in Vancouver is also named after the famous fur trader-explorer.

Run by Parks Canada, FSJ is open year-round but costumed interpreters only appear between 1st June to mid-Sept.  It is the interpreters that make this site come alive.

Hudson’s Bay Company

Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC) is the oldest North American company and it still exists!  Today, HBC is an international retail business consisting of The Bay, Galeria Kaufhof, Lord & Taylor and Saks Fifth Avenue.

The idea behind HBC was to sail ships from UK to the Hudson’s Bay thus bypassing New France (Québec) controlled by France.

But in 1670 HBC was more than a major fur trade company.  It actually controlled and administered the 3.9 million sq km of Rupert’s Land, 40% of the land area of Canada!  That is the size of Western Europe!  UK did not declare it a colony because it could not be bothered ruling it!

The power struggles of the North American fur trade in the late 18th century is the subject of Netflix’s latest program, Frontier.  Apparently they were not as polite as we are today.  But then again this was not yet Canada.

Here is an interesting connection.  William Keswick and his grandson Sir William Johnstone Keswick served at HBC.  The Keswick family are the Scottish business dynasty that controls the Hong Kong-based Jardine Matheson now worth USD 42 billion!  Tai-Pan is an excellent novel by James Clavell about European traders who move into Hong Kong in 1842 following the end of the First Opium War.  The Noble House of this novel is based on Jardine Matheson.

Employees

The “Factor” was the chief business agent and manager of the factory (aka trading post).  Both words are derived from Latin factoria.  In lieu of a salary, the Factor had 2 shares of the HBC.  The other staff were paid: clerks made < £100 per year.  Guides, tradesmen and boatmen made < £45/year.  The Canadian Pound (£), worth $4, was used until 1858 when Canada converted to decimal currency, the dollar.  Typical wages in 1870 for the skilled trades in Ontario were $1.30 to $2.30 per day.

There was an interesting relationship between HBC and the First Nation (FN) people.  First of all, Europeans only filled the top levels of HBC at the trading post.  Second, they came as single men so most of them intermarried with local FN women.  The big learning point is…

Did you know that the majority of HBC employees were First Nation or Metis? (mixed marriage).  Because of their roles as liaison and hunters, the FN had more influence during the fur trade era than after it ended.

“Probably the root of the misunderstandings was that, while the Carrier [the local FN people] saw trade as primarily a social act, the fur trade companies saw it, first and foremost, as a business transaction.”

First Nations

Without the aboriginal peoples, the Europeans would not have survived their first winter in Canada.  First Nation (FN) inventions not only enabled Europeans to live in Canada but have since been adopted throughout the world.  The following are just a few examples:

Clothing: Inuit parkas (insulated jackets), Inuit snow goggles, fur coats, moccasins, mukluks, snow shoes, and camouflage (for both hunting and warfare).

Medicines: foxglove (genus Digitalis) to treat heart disease and black willow bark as a painkiller, which after ingestion turns into salicylic acid, the main ingredient of aspirin.

Food:  Native Americans have contributed many staples of our modern diet:  beans, chocolate and cocoa, corn and popcorn, cranberries,  maple syrup and sugar, potato, pumpkin, peanuts, sunflower, tomato, vanilla, and yam.

Transportation: Birch bark canoes and kayaks were FN inventions. Yesterday’s transportation is today’s sports.  Dug out canoes can be found around the world and were used to move supplies and furs.

The fur trade had a great impact upon Indigenous peoples. As a result of their involvement in the fur trade, many abandoned their traditional lifestyles and economy, and became reliant on European manufactured goods and foodstuffs for survival.

The arrival of Europeans also introduced diseases, such as smallpox, that devastated the aboriginal population.  Less than 4% of Canada are FN people.  But 16.6% of the indigenous population live in British Columbia.

Fur Warehouse (1888-89)

Exterior

How do you construct buildings in the wilderness without trained tradesmen and modern materials?  How do you construct buildings quickly and easily?  Well, there are lots of trees.  So they came up with “post and sliding piece” construction.  Two sets of double posts provide a bay where whole logs are piled – it’s easy to replace rotten logs, expand a building, or even relocate it!

Essentially, it’s a log house but the timbers are squared.  All this squaring had to be done by hand.

Caulking

There was no insulation but they had to keep wind and water out.  The horizontal spaces or joints between logs are “chinked” with moss, clay, and/or dried animal dung and “daubed” with  a mixture of clay and lime.  Chinking and daubing completed the exterior walls of the log pen by sealing them against driving wind, rain and snow as well as blocking the entry of vermin.

Did you know that the caulking gun was invented by a Canadian in 1894: it was adapted from a cake decorator!!!

Interior

When we were there,  some German traders were exploring the stacks of supplies including sacks of sugar and oatmeal, crates of coffee and traps, and boxes of soap and yeast.

          Furs were hanging from the rafters waiting for transport to Victoria.  Beaver wasn’t the only fur.  The most important furs in order of exports were beaver, marten, otter, mink, fox, bear, deer…   You get a chance to touch the furs.   Some are amazingly soft.

Beaver Felt Hats (1550-1860)

Did you know that the beaver is North America’s largest rodent?  But why was the beaver the most desirable fur?  Its’ amphibious body is covered with a soft felt-like under fur that is one inch thick.  It made the top hats water repellant.  After all, the beaver is a water rat.

Fashion was the primary cause of fur demand and business.  Who knew that the beaver hat fashion was inspired by Swedish soldiers during the Thirty Years’ War (1618-48)?

Tricorne and top hats were used by the military, aristocrats and eventually by other social classes.  The beaver had been hunted to extinction in Europe.  The best quality hats were made from beaver as it has the most luxurious felt.  HBC promoted itself in the beginning by providing free hats (£34) to important men.

So what did FN and traders buy?  On the barrel outside we see two products you can still buy today!  Pear’s transparent soap started in London 1807 and Colman’s Mustard founded in 1814.

Foods shipped into the posts included salt pork, wheat flour, corn, cheese, chocolate, condiments, rum and high wine.

Boardwalks are raised wood platforms to keep feet out of puddles and horse poop. Moving clockwise we pass the Fish House where they dried salmon to keep for future meals.  The Fish House is on stilts to prevent entry by animals. Turning right we get to…

Men’s House (1884)

This log building served as a company employees house,  and a guest house.  As a rule, windows were covered with parchment (rawhide).  Glass at inland settlements was a luxury and must have been added later.

Here we have a trader from Germany trying out the best whisky.  He’s relaxing in an early model of the lazy boy recliner with the best bear fur seat and an elevated foot rest.

Do you think you could live here?  Let’s get rustic!  No plumbing.  No running water.  Feed the stove logs to keep warm.  Notice the newspapers on the wall.  These were used to keep out drafts

The kerosene (aka paraffin) distillation method was invented by Canadian geologist Dr. Abraham Gesner in 1846.  Even if you have never had a kerosene lamp, most of you have used kerosene.  It’s also called jet fuel.

Look for the alphabet along the wall over the bed covered in a HBC blanket!  This log building once served as a school.

Men back then wouldn’t bathe often.  In order to keep warm they wore many layers. Instead of taking their long johns off when they started to wear, they would put another pair on top. By the end of winter they would have three or more pairs that they had yet to take off all season. Summertime would arrive and then came time for the removal process. Their body hair would grown through the fabric which mean taking them off was a painful process.  One interpreter told us that sometimes the underwear fused to their skin!!!

Lead

Canned fruit and vegetables were imported to the Great North.  The tin can was invented in London 1810.  Early cans were sealed with a tin-lead alloy, which could lead to lead poisoning.  HBC used boats to bring trade goods to Canada and return with furs via Hudson’s Bay to Europe.

Here is a connection to the fur trade.  In 1845 there was an expedition to discover the remainder of the Northwest Passage through the Arctic to Asia.  Both of Sir John Franklin’s ships were recently found by Canada.  Autopsies of the Sir John Franklin Expedition showed that crew members suffered from severe lead poisoning, caused by eating from lead-soldered tin cans and drinking water from lead water pipes!

Medicine

Notice the box marked “Perry Davis’ Vegetable Pain Killer”.  When we watch western movies we think of con men selling fake products.  However, this drug actually worked!  Patented in 1845, it was the first drug to be nationally advertised selling for $1 per bottle

It was distributed around the world by Christian missionaries who had no idea of its ingredients.  Since “Perry Davis Pain Killer” was a registered brand name, there was no legal requirement to make its ingredients public on the bottle.   The pian killer was indeed entirely natural and it worked because it was made primarily from alcohol and opiates.

Trade Store (1884)

This was the first The Bay department store!  The fur trade was the primary reason for Europeans to interact with the aboriginal population.  The Trade Store was also the first post office in the region.

This is a reconstructed building, as the original burnt down in 1919.  The Dakelh (Carrier) people quickly discovered they could get most of the things they wanted from the trade store without ever bringing in furs.  This was because the traders were in such desperate need of salmon and traded for them from the Dakelh in huge quantities. To encourage the trapping and trading of furs, the Company eventually adopted a policy to accept only furs in trade for the most valued store items, such as blankets or metal pots.

The Made Beaver

The Hudson’s Bay Company trade with the First Nations was carried out through bartering.  The HBC standardized the unit of account as the Made Beaver (MB), or one high quality male beaver skin, to ensure consistent pricing for pelts throughout Rupert’s Land.  A trapper might make 300 MB per season.

However, the value of products did vary. In 1795, a pistol could be purchased for 4 made beaver pelts (MB); a rifle for 10-12 MB. So what did 1 MB buy? German chocolate, kettle, gallon brandy, shoes, 2 shirts, 2 lbs sugar, 1 trousers,…  Today 1 MB = $31.

By 1700, the famous and colourful striped HBC blankets accounted for more than 60% of the trade.  They cost 1 to 3 MB depending on size and quality. The 100% wool blankets are still sold today for $70.

The Buck

Americans trace the term buck meaning deer skins back to 1748, about 44 years before the first U.S. dollar was minted.  Whoa, not so fast: that was not the original buck.  The HBC struck a coin in the 17th century that was equal to the value of one buck-toothed male beaver pelt – it was known as a “buck”.  The beaver became the national symbol of HBC and later Canada.  It is still found on the tail’s side of the Canadian nickel (five cent coin).

Factor’s House (1884)

The Chief Factor’s house underwent many changes over the years but has been restored to the period when Chief Factor A.C. Murray and his family occupied the house (1886).

By looking at the furniture in the living room and the fancy dinner ware in the dining room, you can see that the factor lived in relative luxury compared to everyone else.  You too can spend the night in the Murray House Bed and Breakfast and enjoy the solitude without any tourists once the fort closes for the day.

Sir James Douglas

Sir James Douglas was born in Demerara, Guyana.  Yes, that is the town where we get the name for one of our sugar varieties.  After schooling in Scotland, he worked for the Northwest Company in the fur trade.  The NWC was based in Montreal, which became the financial capital of Canada thanks to the fur trade.  In fact, many of Canada’s cities started off in the fur trade – such as Winnipeg, Calgary, Edmonton, Vancouver and Victoria.  Think of the fur trade as the original gold rush in North America. 

Early in his career, Douglas served as a fur trade clerk at Fort St. James.  His wife was Métis (part native).  Douglas became chief factor of HBC when the NWC merged with HBC in 1821.  He would have sat on the chair in this photo of the factor’s office.

He is best remembered for a famous confrontation he had there with the Dakelh Chief Kw’eh in 1828.  After that he was moved south.

In 1843 he founded Fort Victoria, which is still the capital of British Columbia (BC).  In 1851, James Douglas had to resign from HBC as he was appointed governor of the colony of Vancouver Island.

The population of New Caledonia (the BC mainland) was largely American and other foreigners.  When gold was discovered in the Fraser Valley  (1858), Douglas predicted 10,000s of American prospectors could tilt the future BC to become part of the US.  The first wave was 25,000 people!

Douglas asserted British sovereignty over the “mainland” – technically, it wasn’t under his jurisdiction as it wasn’t part of Vancouver Island.  He asserted authority over American miners and undermined American territorial ambitions.

Shortly thereafter, the UK Colonial Office formally ratified Douglas’ proclamation of sovereignty and established a new colony encompassing the mainland.  But there was already a French territory in the South Pacific called New Caledonia (Nouvelle-Calédonie actually), so Queen Victoria named the new colony British Columbia.  Douglas was appointed the first governor of the Colony of British Columbia in 1858.

The area of British Columbia (944,735 sq km) is 7% bigger than France and UK combined, 21% larger than Turkey, and 35% bigger than Texas!

Future of Canada

Douglas was governor of BC from 1858 to 1864 and is often called the Father of BC.  All land was assigned to the government.  He relied on his gold commissioners to lay out reserves for the indigenous peoples, record mining and land claims, and arbitrate mining disputes.

Douglas built a wagon road 640 km long following the Fraser to distant Cariboo, where gold nuggets had been found (see Cariboo Road).  It was extended in 1865 to Barkerville, a new gold rush town, which will be the subject of a later post as it is a must-see.

In 1869, HBC rejected an American government offer of CA $10,000,000 to buy Rupert’s Land.  That would have been quite a steal considering the $7 million spent to buy much smaller Alaska.  Instead, the British pressured HBC to sell it to Canada for $1.5 million.  That was quite a deal, except HBC never paid for it in the first place!!  This land became the Northwest Territories, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and the northern parts of Ontario and Quebec.   Manitoba became the fifth province to join  Confederation in 1870.

British Columbia joined Confederation on 20 July 1871, becoming Canada’s sixth province.  This was spurred on by the gold rushes and the promise of a transcontinental railway link.  The railway was not completed until 1883.  You can see where the Canadian Pacific Railway used advanced engineering to build the Spiral Tunnel to descend west out of the Rocky Mountains.  The ends of the tunnels are visible from two viewpoints in Yoho NP (which is in BC).  On our return trip east we will post about magnificent Yoho NP, one of our favourite parks in the Rockies. 

Visit an actual fur trade post with the largest collection of wooden buildings from the 19th century! #travel #amazing #Canada #nature #roadtrip #wildlife #photography #must-see #sights #exploreBC @HelloBC This story is about the very foundation of the country of Canada.  We visited an actual fur trading post with buildings dating from the 19th century.