#chantecler writing
Text
In the aftermath, I'll hold you
in the aftermath of Emma taking on the darkness, Killian is the only one to comfort Henry.
Aka, these two just want their family back together
+ a little post s5 finale comfort to finish it off
Read on ao3 || Read below the line:
"What do you mean she's gone?" Henry grit his teeth, eyes darting across the adults standing in a circle around him.
He was told to go back to the apartment. That they would sort everything out and be home for hot cocoa.
The group did come home, his mum noticeably missing, everyone's heads hung low. Everyone avoided looking him in the eyes, even Hook. Eventually, his other mother had explained what happened.
"Henry..." his grandmother pleaded, reaching for his hand. Henry flinched, taking a step away from her.
"Answer me! What do you mean she's gone!"
"We told you, Henry, the darkness took her," his mother repeated her earlier words.
"Took her where!?" he snapped at her, eyes blown wide with tears stinging at the corners.
A moment of silence fell upon the apartment as everyone, once again, averted their eyes from Henry.
"Why won't no one tell me what happened to my mum?" he choked out, turning to Killian. The man was standing slightly behind Henry, off to David's side. His hook was dropped to the side, arm holding loosely to his belt. He lifted his head and looked at Henry. Brown locked with blue, and Henry saw his emotions reflected on Killian's face - fear, trepidation, agony.
Regina walked towards him, extending her arms out, to hug or otherwise hold him, but Henry slapped them away and cried out at her.
"Don't touch me right now!"
"Henry! Do not talk to your mother like that!" David cut in, fist slamming on the counter. Everyone in the room jumped, and Henry choked up a sob.
"Aye! Stop it, everyone!" Killian laid his hand on the prince's shoulder, trying to ease the storm currently brewing in the room. "We're all stressed and yelling won't help anyone." He turned to Henry, eyes weighed with unshed tears. He took a step towards Henry and the boy didn't move back.
"Lad, your mother took on the darkness, and it engulfed her. When the smoke subsided, she was gone, and all that was left was the dagger with her name on it. That's all we know."
Henry sniffled.
"Have you tried using the dagger to call her?" he asked, ashamed that he even thought of controlling his mother like that.
"Hook tried. She's not in this realm, as it didn't work." Regina stated. A muscle in Henry's jaw clenched.
"So he's the only one that even tried looking for her?"
"Henry!" his grandmother jumped, clearly offended at his statement.
"Don't Henry me! You should be out there looking for her! She's probably scared and alone, but none of you care!"
Mary Margaret glanced over at Regina, but said nothing.
"You never cared about her! You sent her away and I had to find her! When Pan's curse separated us, you didn't come looking, you went about your lives as if we didn't exist. It was Hook who came for us, and it wasn't even you who sent him!"
"I don't think Hook is a role-model for good behaviour." David sneered, shaking the pirate's hand off of his shoulder. Henry grit his teeth at the statement.
"At least he cares about her. You named your second kid after the man that hurt her! Do you even know what he did to her? And now she has to hear his name every day?"
His chest was heaving, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
"You never cared. She keeps breaking her back to help everyone else, but no one has ever tried to help her. She was left alone."
Regina shot him a glare. "Need I remind you that she left you as well?"
"She was a kid! Did you forget she was almost my age when she had me? She didn't have her mother there for comfort." Henry sniffed again, the words burning his throat. "And now neither do I."
He turned and buried himself in Hook's arms, head pressed into his chest as he let the sobs break from his own.
"Henry Daniel Mills!" Regina moved towards the two of them, brows furrowed in rage, but Hook shook his head and extended his namesake to stop her.
He turned him and Henry around, his back to the rest of the group. His arms came around the boy, hand stroking his soft brown hair. He held him for several long moments, until Henry's breathing evened out and his shaking sobs subsided. His arms were still gripping tightly to the lapels of Hook's jacket. Hook kissed the top of his head and whispered slowly.
"I know you miss your mother. I do too. But we won't do her any good if we run around town until we drop from exhaustion. We need rest," he tipped the lad's head up with his hook, "you need rest. We can make a plan in the morning and set right on finding her. Alright?"
Henry nodded, sighed, and rested his head back against his chest.
After a few more moments of silence, Regina spoke again.
"Well. The pirate's right with one thing, we should go to sleep now." She picked up her coat from the rack and looked over at Henry. "Coming?"
He shook his head. "I'm staying here."
Regina whispered "Suit yourself," and bid the others goodnight before leaving with Robin.
Henry stayed in Hook's arms for a little while longer, holding onto him as the rest of the world fell apart around him. His head was spinning, his legs and arms felt heavy, and there was a growing pit in his stomach. Eventually, Hook took a step back, arm and hook braced on Henry's shoulders.
"Let's get you to bed, lad. You're tired."
Henry just nodded, not wanting to fight back, and made his way upstairs. He changed into his pyjamas and crawled into the twin bed that was shoved into the corner of the room. He knew he wouldn't get much sleep, as tired as he was. He heard hushed whispers coming from below, but could only make out a few words.
"Let the boy be," Hook said, "he just lost his mother."
"That doesn't give him the right to speak to us like that." David pushed back, annoyance clear in his voice.
A moment passed.
"He was right, you know. About everything." Mary Margaret finally joined in. "Emma was alone all her life. We never made an effort to make up for that, we thought it was clear we were sorry, but now I know she needed more from us."
They continued their conversation, but Henry couldn't make out anything coherent past that. Eventually, someone stood up and made their way to the front door.
"I best be on my way," Hook said, "it's getting rather late."
"You should stay. Emma wouldn't want you alone on your ship"
Another moment of silence passed. Henry heard movement down stairs, and soon Hook was making his way up the stairs.
"Lad?" he whispered out once he reached the landing.
"I'm awake."
Hook sighed, and made his way to the main bed. He didn't say anything else, but Henry could tell he wasn't asleep. His breathing was too quick and shallow, uneven at times.
Hook taught him how to tell the difference between awake and asleep breathing. "Useful for checking if an enemy is open to a sneak attack," he'd said.
Henry stood and made his way to the corner of his mum's bed.
"Killian?" he called. Killian turned his head, eyebrow quirked up. Henry shuffled his feet. "Can I sleep with you tonight? While in New York, whenever I was upset, she'd let me cuddle with her."
Killian said nothing, simply pulled back the comforter and patted the bed next to him. Henry crawled in, laying face to face with him. They stayed like that for some time, neither speaking.
He liked Killian. He liked how relaxed he was around him, and often it seemed he was the only one that didn't baby Henry. And he tried to build a relationship with him, even outside his relationship with his mum. Killian was fun, he made his mum happy and he was always kind to Henry. The trio's weekly lunches at Granny's were one of the things Henry looked forward to the most. It felt right, the three of them together.
Henry didn't understand why everyone was so dismissive of Killian all the time. Yes, he'd done some bad things, but so did his other mother? And everyone seemed to forgive her easily. He was trying, but no-one except Emma ever supported him.
"We'll find her," Killian said eventually, "I promise you, lad.
Henry shifted, closer to Killian. He rolled onto his back and Henry set his head on his chest, knees tucked up to his chest. Killian's arm came around Henry, resting on the back of his head.
"I know, I know, I'm just..." Henry took a breath to steady himself. "I'm sorry about earlier, a lot of what I said was uncalled for."
"It's okay, lad. It's a stressful situation. I don't think anyone will hold it over you," Killian comforted.
"Thank you for being here. I know you and I can find her. We found her once already, in the alternate storybook. We can do it again."
"Aye. The three of us make quite the team, you know." He threaded his fingers through Henry's hair, in the same soothing motion his mother often used.
"Like a real family does." Henry couldn't see Killian's face, but he knew that the word had prompted a wide smile on it. Family. The three of them, together, against the world. He wasn't opposed to Killian being his step-dad. He's been acting like one already, picking him up from school when neither of his mums could, helping with homework, taking care of him. Henry has never had a father figure before, and Killian was as close as he'd ever get.
"Henry?" he whispered after a while. Henry hummed in response.
"I've been thinking. Well, your mother and I had been talking. We want to find a place for us." He looked down at Henry. "All three of us."
"Like an apartment?"
"Like a house. Maybe we could... Maybe we could find one she'd like? So we can surprise her when this mess is sorted?"
Henry propped himself up on his elbows. His face lit up. "Yes! It could be an operation!" He thought about a name for a moment. "Operation: Light Swan?"
Killian chuckled. "Sounds perfect."
They laid back down, snuggled more closely together now. They listed the features they would look for in their future home. It had to be near the ocean, have a big yard, and an open floor plan.
"How many bedrooms?" Killian's cheek and ear tips burned at the question.
"We, uh. Your mother and I never discussed that topic."
"I'm sure she'd be open to the idea."
"Aye?"
"Mhm. I can see how she looks at you when you're around me or baby Neal."
Killian smiled at that. "Well I'm sure that a few extra bedrooms wouldn't hurt."
The conversation continued, the excitement over the future easing the pain they both felt. Henry soon felt his eyelids drop, the drum of Killian's heart a low, steady rhythm under his ear. He was stroking his shoulder, drawing nonsense shapes into it with his fingers. Henry drifted off to sleep in Killian's arms, certain that the two of them would take the Darkness out of Emma.
And then they could finally be a family.
ccccccccc
"It's rather late," Emma yawned out, "we should go to bed.
They were sitting on the couch, all next to one another. The couch had more than enough room for them to sprawl out, but they all snuggled into the corner, Emma's back to Killian's chest, arms wrapped around Henry.
They came home from Granny's hours ago, having bid goodbye to the rest of the group. There was so much to be said between them, so much had happened, and none of them wanted to move on without addressing it properly.
Emma's Darkness. What she did to Henry and Killian. Why she pushed them away. Killian's Darkness. The betrayal he felt when no one believed he could fight it. His sacrifice. The race to get him back. The heartbreak Emma and Henry felt when he couldn't come with them. Henry's trip to New York and why he wanted to destroy magic.
They talked for hours, breaking down each and every wall that was still standing between them. Lots of emotions followed with tears, apologies, and hugs.
Henry stretched out, yawning. "Uh-huh. I'm sleepy."
They made their way upstairs, staying close together. They were reluctant to take their eyes off of each other, after being separated so many times already.
The master bedroom was the first bedroom to the left of the stair landing, and Henry's was across the hallway. He stopped, halfway in between the two bedroom doors, and turned to his mum and Killian.
"Hey," he said before they could even open the door. "Can I, can I sleep with you two?"
The two adults shared a confused look between them.
"I know, I'm 13 now, and I should sleep on my own, but..." he shook his head as memories of the past couple of months came flooding back once again. "Mum, I almost lost you to the darkness. And we just barely managed to drag Killian back from the dead. Surely I should be allowed to be a little clingy?"
Emma smiled at him. "After what we've been through, we're allowed to be as clingy as we want to be."
They went about their regular sleep time routine. Changing into pyjamas, brushing their teeth, the usual. Emma went to fetch an extra pillow for Henry, and Killian fiddled nervously with the brace in his arm.
"You can take it off. I don't mind." Henry had never actually seen Killian's scar, and a part of him was curious as to what it looked like. The one time they shared a bed before, after mum was taken, it was dark and Killian had kept the arm tucked under the pillow. He didn't see Killian any differently because of it - the teenager in him saw the hook as completely badass - but he knew that was a sensitive topic for him, so he never pressed him on it.
Killian looked at him, and his features softened. He undid the straps keeping the brace tight, and slid it off of his forearm.
Henry didn't stare much, not wanting to make Killian uncomfortable. The scar was mostly faded, and apart from it, his lower arm was devoid of any other distinguishing markings, including tattoos. A stark contrast compared to the rest of his body. Henry wanted to ask about the tattoos and the scars, the stories behind them, what they meant, and how he got them. Another time, he thought, there's no rush now.
Emma came back with the pillow, and the three of them climbed into bed. Killian was on the right side of the bed, leaning partially on his side. Henry cuddled into him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Emma threw her arm around him, pulling herself close. Killian's scarred arm was wound beneath the two of them, the fingers of his other arm tangled with Emma's.
"Everyone comfy?" she asked.
"What if I told you I need to relieve myself, love?" Killian teased.
"Then I would send you right back to Hell."
"Underworld, technically." Henry and Killian corrected in unison, and the three of them burst out laughing.
This is good. This is how it was always meant to be. The three of them, together, happy, with their whole future in front of them. Henry sighed.
"You good, kiddo?"
"I'm happy."
Sleep took them swiftly, the last few weeks (months, really) having left their bodies desperate for rest.
Nothing would separate the Saviour, her pirate, and their son ever again.
#killian jones#emma swan#henry mills#ouat#captain swan#captain cobra#mostly caprain cobra#these 3 need an hour long hug and i gave it to them#this fic is more for me than anyone else tbf#chantecler writing#ouat fic#killian jones - protective dad mode activated đ
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY
based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more ⊠March 7
U.S. Marine Drummer 1811
1811 â Ensign John Hepburn and drummer Thomas White are hanged for consensual sodomy by the English Navy before "a vast concourse of spectators" including nobles.
1855 â Count Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac was a writer during France's Belle Epoque, but he is best remembered as a dandy and an aesthete, who inspired the literary creations of others.(d.1921) Born in Paris into a family that traced its nobility back to the early middle ages, Montesquiou boasted (quite truthfully) that he was "allied to the greater part of the European aristocracy."
Montesquiou was equally proud of his intellectual and literary achievements, which, at least in his own eyes, were considerable. He published eleven volumes of symbolist poetry, but contemporary critics found his verses overly "precious" and posterity has been no kinder. Montesquiou also wrote two novels, three volumes of memoirs, and a great deal of literary criticism.
He befriended, encouraged, and supported numerous artists: painters such as Gustave Moreau, Edgar Degas, and James McNeill Whistler; poets such as Paul Verlaine, Stéphane Mallarmé, and François Coppée; and prose writers such as Adam Villiers de l'Isle-Adam and Marcel Proust.
He crammed his home with so much artistic bric-à -brac that fellow aristocrat Boni de Castellane remarked that he showed "less taste than imagination." as an interior decorator.
Montesquiou was a well-known figure in Parisian high society. He entertained lavishly, although, as he confessed, "I preferred my receptions to my guests, who may have noticed. . . . I gave parties for selfish reasons, less to satisfy my guests than to please myself."
In sum, Montesquiou's contemporaries generally considered him a dandy, an aesthete, and a snob. They admired his stylishness, but found him pompous and even ridiculous; they flattered his ego because they feared his savage wit, but they mocked him behind his back.
Montesquiou's homosexual tendencies were patently obvious, but he may in fact have lived a chaste life. He had no affairs with women, although in 1876 he reportedly once slept with the great actress Sarah Bernhardt, after which he vomited for twenty-four hours. (She remained a great friend.)
He had aristocratic women friends, but much preferred the company of bright and attractive young men. In 1885, he began a close long-term relationship with Gabriel Yturri (1868-1905), a handsome South American immigrant who became his secretary, companion, and possibly lover. After Yturri died of diabetes, Henri Pinard replaced him as secretary in 1908 and eventually inherited Montesquiou's much reduced fortune.
Montesquiou inspired the peacock in Edmond Rostand's play Chantecler (1910), who pompously announces to the other barnyard animals: "I am pleased to represent that Good Taste of which I am . . . the guardian."
However, Montesquiou is most remembered as the principal model for Baron PalamÚde de Charlus in Marcel Proust's great novel, Remembrance of Things Past (1913-27, recently translated as In Search of Lost Time). All Paris recognized Montesquiou in Charlus's arrogance and insolence, mannerisms, and voice inflections.
Montesquiou pretended not to notice and even praised Proust's work for its realistic treatment of homosexuality, but he was in fact mortified, writing to a friend: "I have taken to bed, sick from the publication of three volumes that have distressed me."
Montesquiou died in Menton on the French Riviera on December 11, 1921. He was buried in Versailles next to the faithful Yturri.
1875 â One of France's most distinguished composers, Maurice Ravel (d.1937) was a prolific and versatile artist who worked in several musical genres, creating stage music (two operas and several ballets), orchestral music, vocal music, chamber music, and piano music. His unique musical language, employing harmonies that are at once ravishing and subtle, made him one of the most influential composers of the twentieth century.
Ravel's sexuality has been the subject of intense speculation. Although it is not certain that he was gay, he was rumored to be so. Fiercely protective of his privacy, his most significant emotional relationship seems to have been with his mother. At the same time, however, he embraced a public identity as a cultured dandy, a dapper man-about-town of refined taste and sensibility.
A life-long bachelor, Ravel had several significant relationships with men, including one with pianist Ricardo Viñes, a fellow dandy and bachelor, but it is not certain whether these friendships were sexual.
As a young man, Ravel joined a circle of avant-garde writers and composers called Les Apaches. This group included Viñes and the composers Manuel de Falla, Florent Schmitt, and Stravinsky. Several members of the circle, including Ravel, developed an interest in the new American form of music, jazz. Not surprisingly, jazz rhythms entered some of Ravel's compositions, such as his late Sonata for Violin and Piano, which includes a jazzy movement called "The Blues."
Ravel's most familiar work to contemporary audiences is the Boléro of 1928, which he considered something of a well-orchestrated joke because of its constant repetitions of the same melody. Commissioned by the dancer Ida Rubinstein for a ballet choreographed by Nijinsky, the Boléro is a bravura work built on a relentless rhythm that culminates in the wild abandon of Dionysian revels. It is certainly one of the most widely performed and recognized pieces of classical music.
Ravel's career and life can be divided into two parts, separated by World War I, which had a traumatic effect on him. Before the war, he was an important presence in French musical circles, often conducting his own works, giving piano concerts, and collaborating with Sergei Diaghilev on commissions for the Ballets Russes. After the war, however, the composer's physical and emotional health deteriorated. He retreated from Paris and spent the last decade of his life in semi-retirement.
In 1928, Ravel made a triumphant four-month tour of the United States, where he met many musical notables, including George Gershwin, whom he admired greatly.
In his final years, Ravel suffered a series of health problems and gradually lost the ability to communicate with others. He died in Paris on December 28, 1937 after a series of strokes and an unsuccessful brain operation.
1900 â The British/Grenadian jazz musician Leslie Hutchinson was born on this date (d. 1969). Known as "Hutch", he was one of the biggest cabaret stars in the world during the 1920s and 1930s. He was born on the Island of Grenada as Leslie Arthur Hutchinson, he took piano lessons as a child. He moved to New York City in his teens, originally to take a degree in medicine as he won a place due to his high aptitude, and began playing the piano and singing in bars. He then joined a black band led by Henry "Broadway" Jones, who often played for white millionaires such as the Vanderbilts, attracting the wrath of the Ku Klux Klan.
In 1924 he left America for Paris, where he had a residency in Joe Zelli's club and became a friend and lover of Cole Porter. He was for some time the highest paid star in Britain and was one of the biggest stars during the twenties and thirties in the UK.
"Hutch" was believed to have had relationships with Ivor Novello, Merle Oberon, and actress Tallulah Bankhead. The rumors include affairs with Edwina Mountbatten and members of the British Royal Family which supposedly led to his social ostracism and the destruction of his professional career.
Encouraged by his lover Edwina Mountbatten, he came to England in 1927 to perform in a Rodgers and Hart musical, and soon became the darling of society and the population in general. "Hutch" was a favorite singer of the then Prince of Wales (later King Edward VIII). He was regularly heard on air with the BBC. One of his greatest hits was "These Foolish Things". He was a much-loved wartime entertainer. As well as being a friend and lover of Cole Porter, he recorded several of his songs, including "Begin the Beguine" and Porter's list song "Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love)", to which he supposedly made up some 70 new verses. He later married and had a daughter. He would go on to sire six further children to five different mothers.
Hutchinson died from pneumonia in 1969. Only 42 people attended his funeral.
1934 â The Soviet Union reinstates consensual sodomy as a crime, with a penalty of up to five years in prison, if with consent, and eight years at hard labor, if without
1964 â Today's also the birthday of American writer Bret Easton Ellis. His books include: Less than Zero (1985), The Rules of Attraction (1987), American Psycho (1991), The Informers (1994), Glamorama (1999), and Lunar Park (2005) When asked an interview in 2002 whether or not he was gay, Ellis explained that he does not identify himself as gay or straight. He explained that he is comfortable to be thought of as gay, bisexual or heterosexual and that he enjoys playing with his persona, identifying variously as gay, straight and bi to different people over the years.
In a 1999 interview, the author puts forward that his reticence to definitively label his sexuality (in his own words, he is "very coy and weird about it") is for "artistic reasons", because "if people knew that I was straight, they'd read [my books] in a different way. If they knew I was gay, 'Psycho' would be read as a different book."
In an interview with Robert F. Coleman, Bret refers to his as an "indeterminate sexuality", and said "any other interviewer out there will get a different answer and it just depends on the mood I am in".
Ellis has long acknowledged having had gay sex, but for most of his career he unequivocally claimed he was not gay. Then, in 2005, he began to discuss having had a six-year relationship with a man ten years his junior who died tragically young.
Ellis's fiction roughly mirrors his biography. His first four novels and one book of short stories are filled with sexually ambiguous characters. Then, in Lunar Park (2005), Ellis himself appears as a character, a middle-aged writer, who, just before the novel ends, begins a relationship with a younger man.
In a 2011 interview Ellis again states that his answers to questions about his sexuality have varied from interviewer to interviewer, citing an example where his reticence to refuse the label "bi" had him stuck with it and it was published that way. "I think the last time I slept with a woman was five or six years ago, so the bi thing can only be played out so long," he clarifies. "But I still use it, I still say it." In responding to Dan Savage's It Gets Better campaign, aimed at preventing suicide among LGBT youth, Ellis tweeted "Not to bum everyone out, but can we get a reality check here? It gets worse."
1974 â Darryl Stephens is an American actor. He is best known for playing Noah Nicholson on the television dramedy Noah's Arc.
Stephens was born in Pasadena, California. He grew up in the Altadena and Pasadena areas of Los Angeles, California. He attended the University of California, Berkeley where he studied sociology and ethnic studies along with drama and dance before earning a Bachelor's Degree in American Culture Studies. He performed for four years in San Francisco with the cult theater troupe Sassymouth before returning to Los Angeles to pursue a film and television career. He also worked with the Berkeley Black Theater Workshop.
Back in L.A., Stephens appeared on the sexy late-night serial MTV's Undressed, the short-lived series That's Life, and VH1's Red Eye. During the same period, he was also appearing in various commercials for products such as Dockers and performing in small theater venues and scene study classes. He also played in a Hollywood revival of the well-known play Bent.
Stephens had supporting roles in the films Seamless, Not Quite Right, and Circuit. However, his breakout role came in 2004, when independent filmmaker Patrik-Ian Polk cast him as the lead character for the new series Noah's Arc. The original intention was for the show to be released direct-to-DVD after it had received rave reviews at various film festivals. However, in the fall of 2005, LOGO picked up Noah's Arc, which debuted on October 19.
In August 2006 the second season of Noah's Arc was televised. By the end of 2006, Stephens had completed roles in the comedy Another Gay Movie and the drama Boy Culture, the latter alongside newcomer Derek Magyar.
In October 2008, a feature film version was released. Noah's Arc: Jumping the Broom picks up where the show's second season left off and tells the story of the marriage between Stephens' character and Jensen Atwood's.
In 2010, he guest starred in an episode of Private Practice, playing a pre-op transgendered character. His next film, scheduled for release in 2011, is Bolden!, a bio film about jazz great Buddy Bolden starring Anthony Mackie as Bolden. Stephen's role is of cornet player Frank Lewis.
Stephens released a self-published novel in 2011, entitled Shortcomings, which weaves together short stories he had written previously. He is also a singer songwriter.
Although Stephens is reluctant to discuss his personal life, he is openly gay and his roles address issues of classism and sexuality.
1985 â Guy Benson is a columnist, commentator, and political pundit. He is a contributor to Fox News, political editor of Townhall.com, and a conservative talk radio host.
Benson lived much of his early life overseas, then grew up in Ridgewood, New Jersey, where he attended middle school and Ridgewood High School. During high school, he was known for broadcasting sports on local television. While working toward his bachelor's degree at Northwestern University, Benson worked for the campus radio station, WNUR, broadcasting sporting events and hosting a political talk show. He also interned for two summers at Fox News, working primarily with Hannity & Colmes, before assisting the channel with its coverage of the 2004 Republican National Convention. Benson also reported for an NPR station in South Florida, broadcast summer baseball games in the Cape Cod Baseball League, and interned at the White House.
After graduating with honors from the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University in 2007, Benson served as the producer of The Sandy Rios Show, then a local afternoon radio show with Christian Right commentator Sandy Rios on WYLL-AM in Chicago, before Rios moved to Washington D.C. in July 2010 to host Sandy Rios in the Morning on AFR TALK on American Family Radio. From to 2008 to 2015, Benson also hosted his own Sunday night radio program, The Guy Benson Show, on AM 560 WIND in Chicago and AM 1260 WWRC in Washington, D.C.
In 2010, Benson became political editor at Townhall.com, where his columns had been published since February 2008. Benson also contributes to Townhall's sister site, Hot Air. He previously wrote at Andrew Breitbart's "Big" sites and National Review Online's Media Blog. In addition to serving as a regular guest and substitute host on The Hugh Hewitt Show, Benson is a frequent guest on cable news networks, including Fox News and CNBC. In May 2015, together with coauthor Mary Katharine Ham, Benson published his first non-fiction book End of Discussion: How the Left's Outrage Industry Shuts Down Debate, Manipulates Voters, and Makes America Less Free (and Fun), a critique of political correctness in politics, media and culture from the point of view of two Millennial conservatives.
In April 2008 Benson discovered video from a 2007 reunion of the Weathermen, a radical left-wing group from the 1960s and 70s. The footage included quotes from two members, Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn, defending their actions. Since Barack Obama was criticized during the 2008 presidential campaign for associating with Ayers and Dohrn, the clips made national news. Benson garnered national attention during the 2008 presidential race on two other occasions. In August, after the Obama campaign attacked WGN radio in Chicago for allowing Stanley Kurtz to appear on their station, Bensonâwho was in studio during the interviewâdetailed his experience. Then, two weeks before Election Day, Benson joined with Mary Katharine Ham and Ed Morrissey to pen "The Comprehensive Argument Against Barack Obama," released on Hot Air.
Benson's brother is actor, writer, and director James Benson. Guy Benson came out as gay in May 2015 by announcing in advance of publication that his new book, End of Discussion, would include a footnote: "Guy here. So, I'm gay." Benson told an interviewer that "gay rights is not something that dominates my attentions â or my passions." In September 2019, Benson married Adam Wise.
2014 â Jamaica: Police attempted to evict homeless LGBT youth from the sewers of New Kingston. A judge ruled that since sewers were a pubic place, and the youth had nowhere else to go, they could stay there. Youth who were arrested were charged with swearing and had to pay a fine.
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
OUR TOP 5 HOTELS ON THE FRENCH RIVIERA
1.    Le Negresco Nice.
The story started in 1912 when Henri Negresco the son of a Romanian innkeeper, after living in Paris and Monaco, decided to settle in Nice. He then decided to build a prestigious hotel to cater for wealthy clients. The architect he chose was none other than Edouard Niermans, one of the most celebrated architects of his time. The pink dome was also reportedly designed by Gustave Eiffel. In 1957 when Jeanne Augier took over the hotel, guests such as Dali, Princess Grace of Monaco, the Beatles, Louis Armstrong and Elton John enjoyed staying. Boasting an impressive collection of artwork and furniture spanning over 5 centuries, this iconic hotel continues to draw tourists and celebrities from all over the world. With 100 Guest rooms and 25 suites, each individually styled room offers a feast for your eyes! Talking of feasts, be sure to drop in to the hotelâs 1 Michelin starred restaurant the âLe Chanteclerâ to try their fabulous menu offering a tribute to regional produce. Unfortunately, when this was written, the Negresco is currently closed due to Covid 19. We look forward to them reopening soon.Â
2.    Hotel du Cap Eden Roc
This grandiose hotel started out as a private mansion built in 1869 by the founder of Franceâs âLe Figaroâ newspaper, Jean Hippolyte Auguste Delaunay de Villemessant. Originally called Villa Soleil, Jean built the mansion for writers seeking inspiration. In 1887 Antoine Sella, an Italian hotelier bought the property and in 1889 it opened its doors as the Grande HĂŽtel Du Cap.Some notable guests over the years include, a junior John F Kennedy, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Winston Churchill, Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.Â
Situated on the southern tip of Cap dâAntibes, the hotel boasts 118 guest rooms and 2 villas set amongst a wonderful tranquil setting and a perfect place to unwind with a cocktail after a long day shopping or sight-seeing! We love the Eden Roc restaurant for lunch, with its stunning views towards Cannes and the Iles de LĂ©rins.
3.    Intercontinental Carlton Cannes
This iconic hotel in in the centre of âBoulevard Le Croisetteâ in Cannes, is known throughout the world for its lavish parties and super high-profile guests. Built between 1909 and 1913 for Henry Rhul, a Swiss hotelier, its reputation has grown throughout the years for being the place to be, and be seen during the Cannes film festival. The hotels rich history doesnât just evolve around glitzy parties and A â list celebs, it was also the location for the first ever league of nations conference in 1921. At the time of writing, the hotel is going through an extensive refurbishment, and we look forward to seeing the completed work in 2023. We are certain it will be above and beyond our expectations!
4.    HÎtel Cap-Estel Ezé
The best way to catch a glimpse of this amazing hotel is from a boat! Situated on a 2-hectare peninsular between Nice and Monaco, if you love looking out to sea, then this is the place for you! Surrounded on 3 sides by water, and set-in lush greenery, this boutique hotel is the perfect place to get away from the crowds and relax in private. The main building was built in 1899 and extensively renovated in 2003 and contains 2 presidential suites, the largest with over 445 m2 of floor space not including the ample terrace! Hungry? These guys have it covered, either a light and tasty poolside lunch at the super classy âfiscusâ restaurant, or something at bit more gourmet at the 1 Michelin star âLa table de Patrick Raingeardâ where you will experience Patrickâs homage to produce gathered from the sea and the shore (and the hotelâs own garden)
 5.    HĂŽtel de Paris MontecarloÂ
Originally just olive and lemon trees, this space was magnificently developed by François Blanc into one of the world most luxurious hotels. Opening its doors in 1864, this hotel catered exclusively to the international elite, as it still does today. Rockefeller, Rothschild and Vanderbilt are just a few of the high-profile guest that have stayed here over the years. As well as welcoming kings, Queens and dignitaries from all over the world, the hotel has also feature in many movies including Iron Man 2, Madagascar 3 and as you would expect, 2 James bond films, Goldeneye and never say never again. Spread over 4 floors with 99 rooms and 83 suites (including a presidential suite) this hotel has options for all tastes but unfortunately not all budgets! With 3 restaurants to choose from, including Alain Ducasseâs Louis XV restaurant boasting 3 Michelin stars as well 600,000 bottle wine cellar, you certainly wonât go away hungry or thirsty! If you prefer something a bit more relaxed you can dine in the âLe Grillâ on the top floor with its sliding roof or grab a drink in the American bar whilst listening to some live jazz.Â
Contact us at www.wild-child-charters.com for more information on any of these hotels
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Camille Rowe: « I would have loved to act in Kill Bill »
« Clara Bow... Why do I have Clara Bowâs name in my head when I think about Camille Rowe ? » The author and journalist, Simon Liberati, tells us the story of how he met the French-American actress and model, Camille Rowe.
Because Iâm an old man, and because of age, I mix up pre-war actress with todayâs It girls. One hundred years later, no one knows the name of Clara Bow, the first it girl (the name was invented for her). Blonde with big blue eyes, she was the queen of Hollywood, she shared lovers with her enemy Marion Davies, the other blonde with big blue eyes, mistress of Randolph Hearst and a castle on the side of Lower Topanga, the Spiral Staircase where the Manson family lived. I think of those girls because Camille Rowe reminds me of Tarantino, she should film with him, it would suit her.Â
In the meantime, Camille Rowe has just played a role in a choral film inspired by the work of Anna Gavalda: âI wish someone was waiting for me somewhere (jâaimerai que quelquâun mâattende quelque part).â A movie by Arnaud Viard, with Jean-Paul Rouve and Alice Taglioni. An hour and half long feature film. Itâs a very moving film where you can see her with a beanie, red nose and wet eyes because she cries a lot. Some directors are really into giving roles of morose girls who are not really boring, but «Annagavaldian » which mean not really funny to models and it girls.Â
I remember Abel Ferraraâs movie, âThe Blackoutâ where the poor Claudia Schiffer gave the line to Beatrice Dalle in a psycho-rigid version. At the time an article from France Dimanche or dâici Paris kind of cruelly recounted Claudiaâs troubles with Abel.Â
I don't think the shooting of Arnaud Viard was that chaotic. Camille Rowe plays the role of Jean-Paul Rouveâs little sister, a frustrated theatre actor who became a wine merchant and soon committed suicide, who pays her, her fantasies of art photography. He lends her 10.000⏠so she can do her project of the moment with Diane Arbus (she likes deformed people) all in Dijon. Then Jean-Paul Rouve dies of love for Elsa Zylleberstein (an actress who have cancer) and then Camille finds herself crying for a good forty minutes with the rest of the family (choral).Â
When I was able to reach Camille Rowe on her cell phone while she was shooting with Jen Eymere for the cover of L'Officiel, the first question I was dying to ask her was: "What were you thinking about that was so sad that you could cry for 40 minutes over Jean-Paul Rouve's death?" "As it is a... melodrama, we often kept the first takes. So it wasn't hours of tears a day either. I was thinking about a traumatic event that happened to me, so I kept the after-effects long after the three weeks of shooting [sinister laugh]. I promised myself I'd never do it again. The worst thing is that in my life I'm the kind of person who cries easily..."Â
Yet Camille Chrystal Pourcheresse, better known as Camille Rowe, is a French- American model and actress born on January 7, 1990. She is 30 years old. The beautiful age... Daughter of a prosperous restaurateur, she had, according to Wikipedia, a happy childhood "in a favoured district of the capital". When I went to look for her photos on the Internet, I told myself that I knew her face. Magnificent blue eyes spread apart, huge mouth, curious nose a bit too big, a bit wet, a bit charming (like Anatole France) sublime breasts, thin thighs... Californian style. Hair beach blond surf and warm sand... I know this face maybe from the Baron or Montana, from a Purple dinner or from the Cora cafeteria in Soissons (where I live), I didn't dare to ask her... When L'Officiel commissioned the portrait I'm trying to write, I didn't really feel like it, I was in a deplorable mood, retyping a book that was already more or less a failure, Prayers Answered, whose title I stole from Truman Capote who in exchange sent me a spell, but I always tell myself that things come from encounters, even furtive ones, ordered with a frame... a 10- minute interview on the phone can get me out of the slump. I'll call her at 1:00.Â
The voice is really lovely. Not too charming, not manicured, not dragging, not grunge, but open ... She tells me that she's walking down the street to go to the shooting and I already regret having had the laziness to walk a hundred kilometres in traffic jams to meet her. I've heard many voices in sixty years, few so open... Nothing to do with the idea I had of her, coming from a mix of Wikipedia, articles by Elle and photographs by Terry Richardson where she was sticking her tongue out in an old Purple from ten years ago. I also have a 2018 CĂ©sar box set with âRock'n'rollâ by Guillaume Canet but I have to admit that I forgot the content of this film except that Marion Cotillard is trying to learn the Canadian accent. Hence my second question ... I read (in Glamour? in Elle? in the UGC press kit?) that Camille Rowe had a hard time losing her French-American accent to play a choral film.Â
the banks of the SaĂŽne. It's true that we can't imagine Jean-Paul Rouve's sister speaking with the accent of Laurel Canyon and Linda Hardy.
- âIt's not a question of accent but of intonation. It comes out when I'm speaking in a group, when I'm expressing emotions... At first, it didn't really fit with Dijon.âÂ
- âI can assure you that you can't hear anything...â
- âThank you [happy laugh], that means I've done a good job so.â
 - âDid you like Dijon?â
 - âYes, I loved it. There's a lot of wineries there. My boyfriend and I went for a walk and tasted some good wines.â
It's true that she doesn't look like she's sucking ice cream. Not a drunk, no... but a well-to-do person, as they say in the press. The blur in the eyes, the wet nose and the infectious laughter can make you think that... Kind of like Romy Schneider. The comparison is not infamous. Clara Bow didn't spit on a drink either... The stupid question now that I've stolen from an old issue of Miss Tender-Aged...Â
- âCamille, ideally, what role would you have liked to play in the cinema?âÂ
- âThe movie I really would have liked to play in is Kill Bill.â
I was right to think of Tarantino, Camille Rowe has a Margot Robbie side to her as Sharon Tate... Something joyful, Californian, uncomplicated and a little attracted by evil at the same time...Â
- âIn the film, you photograph deformed people. In life are you a fan of Diane Arbus?âÂ
- âAs for art, I prefer painting. I am not a fan of photography. On the other hand, I like horror films... Otherwise, I'm quite interested in serial killers...â
An opening? I don't believe it. I read (on Wikipedia?) that she likes old David Cronenberg... So we quote some movies... If I had come instead of phoning her, I could have told her that I spent several evenings with Cronenberg in Geneva in November (his daughter is a photographer too) and that he has a great sound system on his iPhone that allows him to listen to or zap people depending on whether they are sitting in front of him, on the left or on the right...Â
- âYou'll never guess what they're doing to my makeup while I'm talking to you... They're scraping scabs off my nose.â
That girl is really charming... Rowe power... Only good-looking people talk about this kind of stuff.Â
- âDo you have plans?â
- âYes, a Canadian sci-fi film... And an English film...â
- âYour first role? - When I was 12 at school in Edmond Rostand's Chantecler, I played a chicken... A mean chicken. I liked that [sinister laugh].â
Rowe-power got a magic touch.Â
-
(CREDIT FOR TRANSLATION: kareninapetrova)
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rock-a-Doodle (1991)
Partially animated, partially featuring live-actors, Don Bluth directs Rock-a-Doodle, loosely based on the Edmond Rostand comedy Chantecler. This is a movie for babies. They won't have seen everything this story does but better elsewhere. Adults will find it tedious, recognize the bad writing, and be annoyed by the characters. It made me a little mad to sit through its 74-minute running time.
Chanticleer (voiced by Glen Campbell) is a rooster whose croak brings the sun up in the morning. One day, the sun begins to rise without his crowing. As the barnyard animals mock the bird for his delusions of grandeur, he leaves his home for the big city. Actually, this was all part of a scheme by the evil Grand Duke (voiced by Christopher Plummer), a magical owl that despises daylight. In reality, Chanticleer's crow DOES bring up the sun and now that he's left his post, daylight will never come again. When young Edmund (Toby Scott Ganger) is turned into a kitten by the Grand Duke and drawn into the storybook he's reading, the âboyâ and a slew of barnyard animals go on a quest to bring back their friend and save the world from the eternal darkness.
Iâm not kidding when I say this movie makes me angry. The writing is sloppy, the direction is awful and the tone so sugary-sweet it gives you a toothache⊠but you canât quite dismiss Rock-a-Doodle because of the animation. What a waste. All that talent by the animators, all of that money poured into a story that is nothing but a glorified babysitter for the littlest of children. That's what this is, with the live-action segments bookending the story, the cute little kitten protagonist, the strict distinction between real life - which is "safe" and the fictional world, which is filled with danger - and the narration, whose job is to oversimplify and explain every single action before it actually happens.
Thereâs nothing to this story, just an excuse to string you along until the clock runs out with a few pauses here and there to feature unmemorable songs. The musical numbers make Rock-a-Doodle scream âDisney Wannabeeâ in the worst ways. It becomes so desperate for tunes to pad out its running time the soundtrack even resorts to having some of the evil owls singing to Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor. How lazy can you get?
Considering its intended audience, maybe I should give the picture some mercy but I refuse. While the movements are fluid and colors bright, nothing about this tale will enrich or stimulate those who watch it in any way. It doesnât even contain original characters or anything memorable for the kiddies; there are too many barnyard animals for any of them to get more than a couple of quirks and the kid is bland. Rewatching it as an adult you'd be embarrassed to hear that you liked Rock-a-Doodle growing up. (On VHS, January 19, 2015)
#Rock-a-doodle#movies#films#reviews#movieReviews#filmreviews#donBluth#GaryGoldman#DanKuenster#DavidN.Weiss#JohnPomeroy#DavidJ.Steinberg#T.J.Kuenster#Chantecler#TObyScottGanger#GlenCampbell#EddieDeezen#SandyDuncan#EllenGreene#PhilHarris#ChristopherPlummer#CharlesNelsonReilly#1991Movies#1991films#animatedMovies#AnimatedFIlms
1 note
·
View note
Photo
Bert Williams (b Nassau, Bahamas, Nov 12, 1874; d New York, NY, March 4, 1922) was among the most renowned Vaudeville entertainers of his time. He was born in Nassau, traveling to the US with his parents in 1885. By 1893, Williams joined a touring minstrel show, beginning his career as a comedian, actor, and singer. Minstrelsy was a popular form of entertainment at the turn of the 20th Century, focusing on racist stereotypes of African-Americans, frequently associated with the blackface makeup worn by performers. It also was one of the few avenues of performing arts work in which African-Americans could make a living successfully, and Bert Williams would be one of the greatest of such entertainers of his time.
Williams had a very successful career partnering with another famous African-American performer, George Walker. Williams and Walker appeared together in âClorindy, or The Origin of the Cakewalkâ by Will Marion Cook and Paul Laurence Dunbar. He continued his career after Walkerâs retirement, even performing in Ziegfeldâs Follies of 1910, making him the first African-American performer to headline an all-white cast. By 1920, Williams purchased his own performance venue, Broadway Brevities.
As a recording artist, Williams was the bestselling African-American entertainer of his time. He released several recordings on the Columbia Record label, including âNobodyâ (1913), âO Death, where is thy sting?â (1918), and âThe moon shines on the moonshineâ (1919). Williams was also a composer, writing the music for âWhite Folks Call It Chantecler But It's Just Plain Chicken To Me,â a piece critiquing the elitism of French. This piece is available for download through the Robert C. Hansen Performing Arts Collection here:Â http://libcdm1.uncg.edu/cdm/ref/collection/Hansen/id/5229
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! Do you have anything about Chanteclairs? I live in the north where our winters can be pretty harsh and Iâve heard some people here have been keeping them with good success. I donât know much about them however.....
I just recently did a write up on them! The spelling I use is Chanteclers so search that on me blog :>
0 notes
Text
12 Days of Christmas â Meaning Behind the Birds
By Christine Henrichs â Understanding the 12 Days of Christmas meaning adds something special to this favorite traditional carol. Its repeating verses make it fun to learn the list of traditional gifts: A partridge in a pear tree, two turtle doves, three French hens, four calling birds, five gold rings, six geese a-laying, seven swans a-swimming, eight maids a-milking, nine ladies dancing, 10 lords a-leaping, 11 pipers piping and 12 drummers drumming, all reflect things that were familiar to life in 18th century England and France.
In a nutshell, hereâs the 12 Days of Christmas meaning:Â In the Christian religion, the 12 Days following Christmas are the time it took for the three wise men to make their journey to the stable where the Jesus was born. January 6 is celebrated as Epiphany. Religious meanings have been imputed to each dayâs gift, but there isnât any historical documentation for that. To me, itâs interesting because it tells us about what life was like back then.
Ready to Start Your Own Backyard Flock?
Get tips and tricks for starting your new flock from our chicken experts. Download your FREE guide today! YES! I want this Free Guide »
The 12 Days of Christmas meaning is interesting to explore through a historic lens. The song lists many wild and domestic birds that brightened life in those days of political upheaval and revolution. It was first printed in the 1780 childrenâs book, Mirth Without Mischief, but it was already old then. It may have originated in France, as three French variations exist. The First Dayâs signature partridge was introduced into England from France in the late 1770s, shortly before the carol was formalized in print and published.
The Partridge in a Pear Tree
The partridge is a colorful choice for the first gift. Partridges include lots of different species with bright plumage on their rotund bodies. The gray or English partridge, a Eurasian native, was known in England then. It came to North America around the turn of the 20th century, directly from Eurasia. It has adapted well and is now fairly common in North America. They are hardy birds, able to survive cold winter conditions in the Midwest and Canada. They arenât much for flying, with a stocky body and short, round wings. Most flights are low, at eye level and shorter than 100 yards. They are 12 to 13 inches long with a wingspan of 21 to 22 inches and weigh about one pound.
The hens may lay as many as 22 eggs in a clutch and hatches of 16 to 18 are common. They are not usually raised as domestic birds.
Among modern chickens, the name Partridge survives today as a recognized color variety in both large fowl and bantam Cochin, Plymouth Rock, Wyandotte, Chantecler, and Silkie breeds. It is similar to the Black Red pattern, the name more appropriately applied to game birds, according to Dr. J. Batty in his Poultry Colour Guide of 1977. Males and females differ, with males have rich red plumage on their heads, backs and wings, glinting with lustrous greenish black. Females are more subdued, mostly reddish bay with distinct penciling. The Standard of Perfection details the requirements of the Partridge color pattern description.
Two Turtle Doves
Turtle Doves are a wild breed of European doves, similar to North American Mourning Doves. They would have been common in England and France during the spring, summer and fall as they migrated through to enjoy a warm winter in southern Africa. They have a long history of domestication by humans.
Doves carry a message of peace and hope, appropriate for the holiday season. Their symbolism transcends religious divisions: In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the dove was the messenger of revival to Noah on the ark in the Old Testament and the embodiment of the Holy Spirit descending on Christ at his baptism in the New Testament. In India, gods take the shape of doves. In Islam, Mohammed was attended by a spirit in the form of a dove.
In the U.S., doves and pigeons â the terms are used interchangeably, although sometimes thereâs a suggestion of size, smaller birds being doves and larger ones pigeons â are very popular. Their small size puts them within reach of those who live in small homes or even apartments. Literally hundreds of colors and types of pigeons have been developed by fanciers. Stephen Green-Armytage has documented many of them in his photographs, Extraordinary Pigeons, www.abramsbooks.com. The gift of two Turtle Doves confers both the spiritual and the earthly virtues, their beauty reflecting their spiritual power.
In creating the American edition of Harrison Weirâs The Poultry Book in 1912, editors Willis Grant Johnson and George O. Brown decided to include a chapter on pigeons even though the English Weir had overlooked the species in the original. âThere is an awakening of interest among fanciers for the fancy breeds, while squab-raising has become an important business in many sections,â they explain. They invited J.C. Long of New York to write the chapter, describing him as, âone of the oldest and best-known pigeon experts in the country.â
Three French Hens
Three French hens could be selected from the three old French breeds recognized by the APA for exhibition. Houdan, LaFleche and Crevecoeur were all in the original APA Standard published in 1874. They have long histories, as far as the 15th century in the case of the La Fleche, the 17th century for the others. All are large birds, topping out at 8 pounds for roosters and 7 pounds for hens. All are white egg layers.
Houdans have been known as Normandy fowl. They are a crested breed, recognized in mottled-black and solid-white varieties. Solid black, blue mottled and red mottled varieties have existed in the past and may be raised by fanciers yet.
In the U.S., Houdans were a popular dual-purpose production breed in the 19th and early 20th century. They have five toes like the Dorkings.
The La Fleche, which may be the oldest of the three, was selected and managed for egg production in Britain and North America. They take their name from the town of La Fleche, around which production was centered in the early 19th century. They probably resulted from crossing Polish, Crevecoeur and Spanish birds, which gave them their white earlobes.
Their unusual horned V-shaped comb is remarkable, in the past causing these birds to be called the Horned Fowl. Although now clean-headed, some breeders report occasional offspring with small crests or tassels. The French standard requires a crest.
Although recognized now only in black, they were bred in other colors in the past. In 1580, Prudens Choiselat wrote that blacks, reds, and fawns were the best. Blue and white strains have existed in the more recent past.
The Crevecoeur is sometimes compared to the Dorking, which has history on both English and French sides of the Channel. They also have V combs, although earlier in history they also had leaf combs. Currently recognized only in black plumage, white and blue ones were raised in the past.
The Crevecoeur was also used as a production fowl in the late 19th and early 20th century.
Left, the illustration of Partridge Wyandottes is from Dr. J. Battyâs book. Right, two of the three Houdan hens in a reproduction of Lewis Wrightâs Poultry, published in 1983 by Dr. J. Batty.
Four Calling Birds
On Day Four, the âcallingâ birds were originally âcollieâ or âcolleyâ birds, meaning black-as-coal blackbirds. My poultry mind wants to stretch and consider that they could have been black domestic fowls, such as the old French breeds, all of which were often black, or black Spanish chickens. Black turkeys also were popular in the 18th century in Europe.
Black fowl lost favor because the dark feathers show up in the skin of the bird prepared for the table, unlike white feathers. In the 19th century, white birds lost popularity because they were thought to be constitutionally weak. Fashions in food are as variable as fashions in dress.
Many breeds have modern black color varieties. American breeds such as Javas, Jersey Giants, sometimes called Black Giants, and the English Orpington have black heritage. Asian breeds such as Cochins and Langshans have a strong history of black plumage. Sumatras are always black. Black varieties of Orientals are relatively recent, such as Malays and Cubalayas. Among Mediterranean breeds, the White-Faced Black Spanish is an old breed. Minorcas were originally an entirely black breed called Red-Faced Black Spanish.
Black East Indies ducks are an old breed, although whether they date back to the 17th century is a matter of discussion. Some authorities trace their history back only as far as the 19th century. Cayuga ducks are always black. The recognition of the breed dates back to the 19th century, but it originated from wild American Black ducks crossing with domestic ducks. A black variety of Runner ducks is recent, 20th century. Black ducks could fit the description of âcolleyâ birds.
Black turkeys were popular in Europe, and after Columbus introduced the wild turkey, American colonists crossing the Atlantic brought domesticated black varieties with them. Turkeys were often known by their origin as well, such as the Norfolk Black and the Black Spanish.
In domestic poultry, black plumage has an iridescent quality that gives it a greenish sheen, sometimes complemented with violet. The feathers are truly beautiful and eye-catching, suitable for a gift that would honor the season.
Five Gold Rings
The 12 Days of Christmas meaning behind the Day Five â Five Gold Rings â may have referred to Ring-Necked Pheasants, or perhaps to Golden Pheasants. Those original meanings unify the verses around a bird motif.
Both of them are natives of Asia but have long had successful populations in Europe and the British Isles. The Romans probably introduced them to Europe during their Empire. Pheasant were accepted residents of Britain by the 10th century.
Ring-necked pheasants were introduced to North America in the late 19th century in Oregon, where they succeeded on the second attempt, and after, were introduced in other states. They are now the state bird of South Dakota. They flourish in the wild and are one of the most hunted birds today.
Golden pheasants are successful feral residents in England, but they probably were not introduced there until later than the carol, perhaps as late as the mid-19th century. Their astonishingly beautiful plumage could certainly have inspired songs about golden birds!
They can be raised for meat or for stocking hunting ranges. A white variety eliminates the issue of dark pinfeathers on meat birds. Pheasant tail feathers are in demand for costumes and other decorations.
Six Geese A-Laying
Geese certainly were part of English and French life in the 16th century and long before. Geese have been hunted and tamed and domesticated since the early days of settled agricultural life. West of England Geese, also known as Old English geese, may well be the breed that came over with the Pilgrims on the Mayflower. They were an important American regional breed, particularly in New England.
Goose is the traditional festive bird for the holiday feast. When raising geese for meat, itâs important to note that geese do not thrive in the intense husbandry conditions of modern agriculture, so they are not as plentiful as they were in the 18th century when every farm had some. Most American cooks have never roasted one, so recipes have disappeared. Prominent chef Nigella Lawson is a champion of goose. Because they are waterfowl, they have a layer of fat under the skin. When you roast goose, it naturally bastes itself. The fat is flavorful and can be used to toast vegetables and other meats. Food critic Bonny Wolf calls goose fat âthe creme de la creme of fat.â
The two main types of domestic geese are those descended from the European Grey Lag Goose and those from the Asian Swan Goose. The European line gives us the domestic Embdens, Toulouse and all their American descendants, such as Pilgrim Geese. The Asian line gives us the African and China breeds, with their distinctive knobs.
Wild geese have lived closely with humans for centuries. Even as little as a century ago, they were maintained as semi-wild livestock in England. Villagers let their geese forage and live on the River Cam. The geese spent the spring and summer on the village green, then migrated to the river for the winter.
In February, the owners would call their geese, which responded to their voices and returned home to nest and rear their young. Those offspring were a significant contribution to the villagersâ income. Those Geese A-Laying were valued not only for the eggs themselves, but for the additional birds into which the eggs would hatch.
Despite centuries of domestication, geese remain seasonal egg layers. Some modern breeds such as the China goose have been selected for laying, bringing their production of eggs up to 70 or more annually. Some breeds of ducks have become more productive egg layers with selective breeding over time.
The eggs are reputed to be superior for baking. The albumen is thicker than that of chicken eggs, making it unsuitable for whipping into meringue. The higher fat content of the yolk makes them desirable for baking. The good news about having Geese A-Laying would be that the goslings would soon follow. Geese are excellent parents and protectively raise their young.
This graphic from the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources shows the differences in the heads and bills of three types of swans.
Seven Swans A-Swimming
Swans are one of the most charismatic birds. Their graceful flight and peaceful beauty as they glide across the water have inspired humans to find spiritual meaning in them. Iron Age Britons, eighth century BC and later, considered them supernatural. Mute swans are the traditional birds of folklore. Although migratory, they became semi-domesticated in Britain by the 10th century.
Richard the Lionhearted is often credited with bringing swans to England on his return from the Crusades in the 12th century, but some documentation shows swans being kept as far back as 966, during the reign of King Edgar.
It was in the 12th century that the Crown claimed ownership of all swans. In the 15th century, swan ownership was shared with the Vintnersâ and Dyersâ Companies. That continues today, with an annual ceremony called Swan Upping, in which cygnets, baby swans, are captured, weighed, checked for health problems, banded and released.
So, the 12 Days of Christmas meaning behind Seven Swans-A-Swimming would have had royal as well as spiritual connotations.
In the 17th century, Mute Swans were semi-domesticated in England. In the Netherlands, they were farmed, for their down, their meat and as ornamental birds, according to Sylvia Bruce Wilmore, in her book, Swans of the World. In the Netherlands, those practices continued until after World War II. Because all swans in England belong officially to the Royal Family, swans given as gifts would have been marked on the upper part of their bills. Their markings identified the person who had responsibility for them and thus could benefit from them. Marks date back to 1370.
Today in the U.S., migratory waterfowl are protected by state and federal laws. Permits are required to keep wild birds legally. If you are in any doubt about birds you are considering acquiring, check with the state department of fish and game, parks and wildlife or natural resources.
Mute swans are controversial residents along the East Coast, where they have displaced local Trumpeter swans. Mute swans have been acquired as decorative waterfowl for parks and estates, but easily escape and become feral. They are now regarded as unwanted invaders, trashing the fragile wetland habitat in which they live and chasing out native birds. To avoid those problems, the state of New Hampshire requires by law that Mute swans be pinioned, an operation done on young cygnets to remove the distal joint of the wing, making flight impossible. They retain their mythic grip on people, touching the hearts of those who glimpse them gliding across a misty lake. This dichotomy confounds wetlands managers who want at least to control Mute Swans, if not eliminate them entirely.
âThey are a beautiful form of biological pollution,â said Jonathan McKnight, associate director for habitat conservation at Marylandâs Department of Natural Resources. Others disagree, citing Mute Swansâ circumpolar migratory route, and claim that they have a historic presence in North America.
Current wildlife control professionals hunt them to reduce the population, which has been successful. Tundra and Trumpeter Swans are unquestionably native birds to North America. They remain protected.
I havenât found any evidence that swans were ever raised commercially in North America. They are wild birds, the largest flying bird, and formidable aggressors willing to protect their nests. Swans-A-Swimming remain a lovely image, but one not practical for domestic production.
Eight Maids a-Milking
In the 16th and 17th centuries, cattle breeds were as different from modern cattle as poultry breeds are. Devon cattle were among the breeds that the maids may well have been milking.
The American Milking Devon was developed from the breed named for the county Devon in England. It retains good production in milk as well as meat. This Devon heifer, âFashion 5th,â is an illustration from Livestock and Complete Stock Doctor: A Cyclopedia, by Jonathan Periam and A. H. Baker, published in 1910. The breed is known for fast walking, which allows it to cover fields efficiently. It is a desirable breed for oxen as well as food production.
The Milking Shorthorn, which traces its history back at least to the estates of the nobility of Northumberland in England of those days, would also be a candidate for the hands of those maids.
Significant points for good dairy cows, according to the Stock Doctor, are: â⊠a small neck, sharp shoulders, small brisket and small bone. Moreover, small bone usually accompanies thrift, and is universally found in improved breeds.â
Milkmaids were associated with good skin at this period of time because they were likely to avoid the smallpox that scarred so many. Because of their close association with cows, they were exposed to cowpox, a much less serious disease that made them immune to smallpox. Edward Jenner relied on this observation to develop the first âvaccine,â a word that comes from the Latin word for âcow.â
12 Days of Christmas Meaning Behind Ladies, Lords, Pipers, and DrummersÂ
The nine ladies dancing, ten lords a-leaping, eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming also reflect aspects of life in the 18th century. The social system placed Lords and Ladies above the common people living on the farms, the Pipers Piping and Drummers Drumming who entertained them. Their performance would have been an expression of military strength as well as general festivities, dancing and making merry. They all would have appreciated the birds that came to the feast.
Now you know the 12 Days of Christmas meaning and history. Isnât it fascinating? While weâre on the subject of Christmas carols, whatâs your favorite?
Christine Heinrichs is the author of How to Raise Chickens and How to Raise Poultry, Voyageur Press. Both books focus on raising traditional breeds in small flocks.Â
Originally published in the December 2013/January 2014 issue of Backyard Poultry.
12 Days of Christmas â Meaning Behind the Birds was originally posted by All About Chickens
0 notes
Photo
Corrupted by Harry Prt. 11 by mary-5so1ds featuring a mini zipper pouch
WithChic hooded pullover sweatshirt, $40 / Acne Studios oversized coat, $1,235 / Topshop lightweight jeans / Moschino mini zipper pouch, $805 / Rebecca Minkoff Wythe Weekender / Mark Cross The Webster X Ritz Paris Passport Cover / Chantecler cluster jewelry / Noir Jewelry crystal stone jewelry, $29 / Denis Colomb woven scarve, $535 / Sunday Somewhere mirrored lens sunglasses, $240 / Tech accessory, $22 / Beaded hair accessory, $9.92 / Rear View Prints - Leather Vintage Writing Travel Notebook, $31
#polyvore#fashion#style#WithChic#Acne Studios#Topshop#Moschino#Rebecca Minkoff#Mark Cross#Chantecler#Noir Jewelry#Denis Colomb#Sunday Somewhere#Rear View Prints#clothing
0 notes
Text
Stay for me - 4x02 missing scene
as promised, I reworked the old scrap I found in my notes. Set right after the end of the episode - no one can convince me that Killian DIDN'T stay with Emma that night. This is how I imagine it went.
words - 1.4k
feedback is always welcome !
"Stay for me."
Her voice was low and weak as she whispered, cautiously, nervously, as if she was going to scare him away with the statement (question? request?). Or maybe even scare herself - she'd never openly asked a man to stay. They never did follow through with any of their promises, so why bother?
"He is different." a little voice in her head told her. "He won't go back on his promise, you can trust him."
She lifted her head up to look at him, chin resting on his chest. He's deep in thought, eyes fixated on the floor. Having noticed her staring at him, he turned to her and smiled.
"Did you say something, love?"
"Stay for me," she said it louder that time, squeezing his hand and holding her breath.
His smile widened as he kissed the top of her head. "Aye love, as you wish. I wasn't planning on going anywhere."
Emma calls out for Snow to prepare an extra pillow and one of her father's pyjamas for Killian, before turning back to him. She leaned into his embrace, nuzzling her head in the crook of his neck, letting the warmth of his presence wash over her. The leather of his vest was soft and she could smell rum and sea salt on him. It felt so good, being held by him, and she'd never felt safer in her life.
That scared her.
She never did let herself get comfortable with anyone. Never let herself put her armour down, never let herself be content and vulnerable around anyone, men especially. It scared her just how open and raw she was with him, how easy it was to open up, to talk and to get closer to him. He could see through her, reading her like an open book, he said. They understood each other and that came with a certain level of intimacy - that was something she had a hard time coming to terms with.
They stayed like that for a while, happy to simply be close to one another. Slowly, the rest of the apartment retired for the night - Henry had gone upstairs to his bed a while ago and David helped Elsa pull the couch down for the night before joining his wife in their bed. Emma reached out with her hand, cupping Killian's cheek, bringing his head down. Their foreheads touch for a moment and then her lips brushed against his jawline as she murmured "I'm sleepy, take me upstairs."
He pulled back, looking down at her. It took him a few seconds to read her expression and all he could see was complete adoration, she was looking at him as if he hung the stars in the sky every night for her. But he also sensed something else - fear, uncertainty, anxiety. She wanted him to reassure her, to show her that he did mean what he had said - that he won't leave, that he won't ever hurt her.
He scooped her up bridal style, blankets and all, his hand holding her by the shoulder, the other arm hooked under her knees, and did just as she asked. Her arms snaked around his neck and she pulled herself closer to him. His only response was to squeeze her tighter, pressing her body to him as much as possible.
She's surprised at how skillfully and quietly he manoeuvred around the apartment and up the stairs. He laid her down on the bed effortlessly, starting to pull away when she tightened her arms around him. His head turned to her, a perplexed look on his face.
"You said you weren't going anywhere," she whispered. He nudged her cheek with his nose, pressing a peck on it.
"I'm not, just wanted to give you privacy to change, love."
"Can you help me?"
His mouth opened slightly as he blinked.
"I trust you. And I'm really tired. Please?" Her hand stroked down his cheek, trailing his scruff.
He nodded, moving to undress her. Boots were first, he settled them next to the railing. He looked back at her for confirmation before unzipping her pants. She smiled, lifting her hips up and he removed those too. He pushed the jacket off her shoulders and pulled her shirt off, folding them all neatly on a nearby chair. His breath hitched in bis throat a little when he saw her almost nude before him, only in plain cotton undies and some mini corset. She sat up and motioned for the orange plaid pyjamas thrown carelessly on the same chair, which he handed to her promptly. It took him only a minute to strip himself too, his clothes and boots joining hers on the chair and by the banister. He slipped into the pyjamas lady Snow prepared for him - they were slightly big on him, the pants hanging low on his hips, and he couldn't be bothered with all of the buttons.
He turned to see already under the bedsheets, one side pulled back for him. He crawled in, his arms wrapping around her waist instinctively, pulling her close to him. She sighed, scooting herself closer, melting into his embrace, arms wrapped around his waist as well, their legs tangled together.
"You scared me, Swan," he kissed her forehead, hand stroking the ends of her hair. His voice was barely above a whisper, partly because Henry was sound asleep just mere meters away, partly because the thought hurt him too much. He couldn't lose her, not now, not after everything he'd done to be next to her.
Her only response was to push herself deeper into him.
"I can't... I'm not losing you, Emma. But you can't run into danger head first like that. There are people who care about you now, who love you, who would despair if you ever left our lives," his voice cracked at the last sentence as he tried to push the memories of Milah and her death back. He loved her and it broke him when she was killed, but his feelings for Emma were so. Much. More. Her death wouldn't break him, it would destroy him.
"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to." She craned her neck back, meeting his glassy blue eyes, offering a small smile. "But you saved me," she continued, "you and my dad. I'm safe because of you."
"Aye, and I'll make bloody well sure it remains that way." His face was buried in her hair, nose pressing against the side of her cheek. Her breaths, slow and steady, washed warmly over the skin of his neck and he shuddered.
They laid there in silence, holding onto each other, before he spoke again.
"Warming up?"
"Mhm," she murmured in response, "I have my own pirate heater with me." He chuckled, the rumble in his chest vibrating through her whole body. He was so incredibly warm and she loved it, his flushed skin felt good against her. She readjusted herself in his hold, the top od her pyjamas must have ridden up bc she suddenly felt something cold and hard press into the skin of her midriff and she yelped.
"I'm sorry love, I forgot my hook does not share the same warmth as the rest of me."
"You can take it off, you know. I won't mind," she stroked his upper arm, "plus it'll be more comfortable for both of us."
He pondered for about a moment before pulling back and undoing the straps on his brace. She didn't linger too much at the sight of his scarred arm - she knew it was a conversation for another day. He lowered himself back down onto the bed, more on his back this time, and she climbed over so she was laying half on top of him, head resting on his chest. She threw one leg over his hips, arm under his head, fingers tangling in his hair. The other rested on his chest where lazily she drew circles into his exposed chest hair. His left arm was wrapped around her, holding her close, while the hand of his other arm rested on her thigh thown over him.
"Comfy?"
"Mhm... very comfy, she replied, kissing his neck.
She was very comfy indeed, never before having felt so warm and safe. She could hear him murmuring sweet nonsense into her hair - "My princess, so sweet, so beautiful, I'll take care of you, I'm not going anywhere" - but it barely registered, her mind slowly drifting to dreamland.
It was probably the best sleep she'd ever had, and waking up next to her pirate the following morning was even better.
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Carve your name into my bedpost đ
one-shot drabbles written for cocktober 2023. most will be under 1k words. following the prompt list from @cs-c-ocktoberfest2023
Ch XVIII - Mutual Masturbation : Read on AO3
Ch XIX - Sensory Deprivation : Read on AO3
Ch XX - Toys & Lingerie : Read on AO3
Ch XXI - Threesome : Read on AO3
Ch XXII - Authority : Read on AO3
Ch XXIII - Post Partum : Read on AO3
Ch XXIV - Phone Sex : Read on AO3
Ch XXV - In Front of a Mirror : Read on AO3
Ch XXVI - Food Play : Read on AO3
Ch XXVII - Edging : Read on AO3
Ch XXVIII - Shared Dream : Read on AO3
Ch XXIX - At Work : Read on AO3
Ch XXX - Instant Attraction : Read on AO3
Ch XXXI - On a Ship : Read on AO3
well !! can't believe october is over ! came and went in a heartbeat. I had SO much fun writing all these prompts ! I hope you guys had as much fun reading them.
a HUGE thank you to the event organisers (cs-c-ocktoberfest2023), everyone that has commented consistently on every chapter & my dear friends on discord & tumblr that encouraged me to continue !
if you're interested, do check out my other works ! smut wheel will resume updating with weekly-ish chapters n prompts and I have more stuff planned ! :) if you're interested in requesting something, my tumblr ask box is open
thank you for reading & reblogging ! <3
- andjie
#killian jones#emma swan#captain swan#ouat#emma x killian#cscf23#chantecler writing#smut#cs smut#ouat smut#cs fanfic
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
You're enough - comfort one-shot
It's never easy to have your disability be made into a joke - to be reminded every day that you're not good enough or deserving of love & for it to be your defining trait.
Killian has learnt to live with it. That doesn't mean Emma can't remind him from time to time.
for @vasfasan HAPPY BIRTHDAY STINKY <33 ILY
Read on ao3 || Read below:
"Mum, could you help me with an art project tonight?"
"Sure, Hook's staying over so we'll help you."
"I think the pirate's going to be more a hindrance than help."
"The one-handed wonder is only good for pillaging and plundering. It honestly surprises me how he can do anything."
"Maybe it's time we replace the missing dwarf. I'm thinking - Stumpy?"
"Shut the fuck up already!"
The dinner falls silent, heads turning towards him. He stands, chair creaking against the floor. His eyes flash across the people sitting at the table with him. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he turns, making haste towards his bedroom in the inn. He can hear the hushed murmur of comments behind him, but his mind is too hazy to actually focus on what they're saying.
He pushes past a confused and worried Ruby and makes it to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he slumps against it. His chest is tight, his breath uneven and strained and his knees give out as he slides down to the floor. His head falls back, a low thud against the wood. His eyes glaze over as tears pool down his cheeks. He swallows, pushing the lump caught in his throat deeper down.
Hook. Pirate. One-handed wonder. Stumpy.
Through his sobs, he can hear a gentle knock on the door. He steadies his breath enough to grunt a "Go away," but it comes out a lot less demanding than he intended.
"Killian, it's me. Please let me in?"
He stands, wiping his face with his hand. He shakes his head, wipes the tears and opens the door. Emma's standing in front of him, hands trembling and anger on her face. She softens and smiles at him, but he doesn't return it.
"What, no comment on how I can unlock the door with one hand?" he grits out, trying his best to sound angry, but his voice cracks and he sounds more pathetic than anything.
"Killian..." she sighs, shaking her head. "Can I come in?"
He rolls his eyes but steps aside so she can enter the room. He closes the door behind her but doesn't turn to face her.
"I told Regina and my parents off for the comments. Henry's pretty disappointed with them too."
He doesn't reply, standing still with his eyes fixed on the floor.
"I'm sorry for what they said, I promise not to-"
"You promise not to do what?" He snaps around, catching her off guard. "Not to comment? Not to insult? Not to stare and laugh? You're a few months late to that party, Swan."
She swallows and steps forward. "I'm sorry for not saying anything sooner. You're usually good at standing up for yourself, and you said nothing so I assumed it was all in good fun." Her hand reaches out, stroking his cheek and his facade breaks. A cry breaks from his chest and he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch.
She leads him to the bed and sits them down, never taking her hands off of him. One hand holds his cheek as the other strokes through his hair.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
He swallows, fingers playing with the zipper of her jacket.
"I didn't want to put a strain on your relationship with your parents. I knew you would get upset with them and I didn't want you arguing with them over me."
She pulls away, worry etched into her features. "Babe... if they're hurting you, you should've said something. I would have told them off earlier."
"I'm not worth the trouble, love."
"To me you are."
He scoffs and shakes his head. She holds him closer, pressing him into her chest.
"I hope you know I don't see you that way. The hook doesn't bother me," she whispers into his hair.
"You deserve better."
"And what could be better than you?"
He straightens, deliberately avoiding her gaze. She tilts his head up and meets his eyes with a soft, encouraging smile. He sighs.
"Someone you won't be ashamed of. Someone who's not broken and ruined. Someone you won't have to explain what you see in him, you won't have to justify your choice to people. Someone who will be able to hold you and touch you with both hands. Someone you wo-"
She cuts him off with her fingers to his lips, a gentle chorus of "shush" on her own.
"Killian, listen to me. I don't care about any of that. I'm not ashamed of you. You may not be perfect, but neither am I, and I refuse to believe either of us is ruined beyond repair. You've helped piece my heart together, and I hope I'm doing the same to you. I don't care about what people think of us, and I don't owe an explanation for my choices to anyone. If they can't see what I see in you, well. Their loss, really." She took his hook and hand in hers and placed it on her sides. "And you can hold me very well, thank you very much. If anyone, anyone, dares to object to that, to us, I have no problem setting them straight. I'll stand up to whoever has a problem with it."
"It's rotten work."
"Not to me. Not if it's us."
His mouth hangs open, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath. Her hands rest on his chest, anchoring him to her. He drops his head and smiles, a breathy "I don't deserve you" on his lips. She leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet, pouring all her unspoken feelings into it.
Their foreheads rest against one another and they hold each other close.
"You're enough. You'll always be enough. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."
She takes his hook, carresing it gently, fingers wrapped around its curve. She presses it against her chest, the coolness of the metal causing her skin to prickle. She smiles at him. "This? This makes no difference to me. It doesn't change how I see you, nor does it make me think less of you."
She leans forward to whisper into his ear. "And while I'm being honest, it's unbelievably attractive."
He laughs. Finally, he laughs, happy and hearty and she can feel the rumble in his vest through her palm. He reaches up, running his fingers across her cheek. There's a tenderness in his eyes, and she's certain no one has ever looked at her like that, not before him. Tenderness, utter devotion, lo-
Her thoughts are derailed when he lunges forward, kissing her and pinning her to the bed. She reciprocates in a second, pulling him into her.
"Does Henry still need help with his school project?" he murmurs between kisses.
"Not for a few hours."
"Good."
#chantecler writing#killian jones#emma swan#ouat#captain swan#emma x killian#ouat fic#cs fic#captain swan fanfic#fan fic writing
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Her White Wolf
With Rumple gone, Belle is left to pick up the pieces on her own. Could a certain wolf help mend her heart? Mid season 4 AU (aka giving Belle the brain cells she needs and resolving my first queer disappointment on the show).
thank you @xarandomdreamx for being a lovely beta !
for - @caliburn-the-sword
Prologue and Chapter 1 published on Ao3:
Prologue - In the Aftermath.
It hurt like nothing had hurt before. Finding the gauntlet that she thought he had traded for her years ago. Using it, foolishly thinking it would simply point towards her, only to be led to the dagger. The dagger? Didnât he give her the dagger? She picked it up and felt its heavy weightin her hand and an intense pull, nothing like she had ever felt before with the dagger she was given. A fake. Obviously. He lied to her, like he had so, so many times.
The next few minutes now feel like a blur. Appearing before him, seeing him holding Hookâs heart in his hand, squeezing it. Commanding him to take them to the town edge. Forcing him over it. His cowardly cries and pleas for forgiveness. And then he was gone, and she dropped on her knees and buried her face in her hands so she didnât have to see him scramble away like a pathetic, injured dog.
The next thing she remembers is a hand and hook on each shoulder, urging her to stand up, leading her to the back seat of a yellow bug. She couldnât quite remember or care for what they told her, spending the entire car ride back to her house staring out the window. They helped her out of the car, led her to her front door, told her something about reaching out if she needed help, and squeezed her shoulder in support. And then she walked into the flat, took her coat off and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her, hoping it was all an awful, awful dream that she would soon be waking up from.
âHey, Belle.â
She lifted her head from the coffee cup in front of her to see Hook standing next to her table.Â
âMind some morning company, love?â
She sniffled and nodded and he scooted into the chair opposite of hers. He ordered a coffee himself and they sat in silence for a while, her gaze dropping back down to the table.
âThank you. For saving my life,â he spoke quietly, treading carefully through the conversation, âI wouldn't be here if you had not intervened the other day.â Days? Has it been that long? This was the first time sheâd left the flat since⊠the incident, having spent all her time sobbing in bed. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze - gratitude, pain, remorse. He strained a little smile and tilted his head down slightly. She returned the smile and straightened her back, sniffling back a sob.
âOf course. The least I could do.â He reached out his hand to meet hers.Â
âIâm not sure how much of this you heard when Emma and I took you home, but just know that we are here for you, whatever you need, okay? You have both our talking phone numbers, weâre just a call away,â he squeezed her hand and she was barely holding back tears. How was he still so kind to her after all the crap her husband had done to him? When she was too blind to see through his lies and do anything to stop him for such a long time. She didnât deserve any thanks from him, or anyone. She could have stopped all this so long ago. All she could do now was squeeze his hand back and nod.
They drank their coffee in silence, commenting about their day and plans every so often. She confessed her remorse over not stopping Rumple sooner and Killian stated how guilty he felt over doing his bidding, at which Belle shot him a smile.Â
âI'm sure we could find a way to release the faeries.â
âYou think?â
âSure! We have everything originally used to trap them, the hat, the dagger-â
âMe,â he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and continued.
âI'm certain Rumple has some books on it. Or maybe Regina does. We could set up a base camp in the library, itâs not like either one of us has anything better to do, and it could help us relieve some guilt.â
His smile dropped a little. âYouâd be okay with working close to me?â
âOf course I would! Why shouldn't I?â
âI⊠I tried to kill you. I shot you.â
Her shoulders relaxed and she placed both hands over his. âKillian⊠I donât hold that against you. Youâve changed since then. Iâve forgiven you.âÂ
He smiled, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. They ordered breakfast and talked about the details of researching the hat and its magic and she actually managed to forget the pain her ex husband had caused her and others. Maybe she could make up for not seeing through his charade sooner. After they finished their food, they ran down to the sheriff's station and told Emma about their plan, who seemed proud and enthusiastic, and Regina, who seemed dismissive but still offered them help if they needed it. She still had keys to Rumpleâs shop, so she asked Killian and Emma to take out any books they may find useful - she couldn't bring herself to go in there. Within the hour they were walking past Granny's again, stopping to pick up a to-go order for the lunch she had placed before they left.Â
She walked into the diner, seeing as Killian was trying to balance a stack of books with his hand and hook and couldn't carry anything else. Granny waved her down and said her order would be bagged in a minute, so Belle took a seat by the bar. She could hear people talking behind her, throwing a few glances her way before whispering amongst each other.
I heard she pushed him over the town line herself. Yea she finally came to her senses about him. Wonder if the pawn shop is still open? I feel sorry for her, he manipulated her.Â
The pity in their voices sounded almost derogative to her. She should have been smarter, seen through his lies way sooner, left him before he could hurt her and others the way he did. But she didn't. She gave him chance after chance only to be met with deceit and disappointment. She was stupid. She knows that now. She pushed the thoughts back, trying her best not to focus on them. Just pick up the order and go, Belle. Five minutes.Â
"Order for Gold?" A voice called out. She winced and made a mental note of annulling the marriage as soon as possible and getting back to her maiden name.Â
She looked up and her mouth dropped open a little. Ruby. She hadn't seen her since they all came back from the Enchanted Forest (granted, she was busy) and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.Â
"Oh- sorry, is it still Gold?" The woman handed her two paper bags.
"Yea⊠I need to go down to the mayor's office to revert it to my maiden name. It's good to see you again Ruby."
"Yeah, it's good to be back."
"You left?"
"For a little bit, I was feeling restless and hoping to find someplace I belong. That didn't really pan out so I'm back here. Plus Granny needs my help with the diner."
"Maybe we could catch up sometime soon."
"I'd like that."
They exchanged smiles and see-you's and Belle walked out of the diner and headed to the library with Killian. Moving on and picking up the pieces was going to be hard, but perhaps she didn't have to do it on her own.Â
________________________________________
Chapter I - Moving On
Ruby's return to Storybrooke brought with it mixed emotions. She didn't feel like she was part of the town, or fully accepted by the townsfolk. But there was nothing for her in the Enchanted Forest and here she at least had her grandma. Even if it meant working in the diner all her life, it was better than nothing.
Today, she was on delivery duty. Which meant driving around town in Granny's run-down delivery van all day, trying her best to not get the orders mixed up. She got back into the car and looked at the next delivery's notes: B. French, 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, 1 large fry serving, 1 medium onion ring serving, 2 sodas. Deliver to Town Library at 12:30pm
Belle.
The brunette had made herself a regular at the diner over the last week, stopping for coffee and a bagel every morning. Talking to her made the otherwise insufferable morning shift actually pleasant for Ruby, even if for just a few short minutes. Belle usually had her order to-go, saying that Killian was waiting for her at the library.
"What are you two up to in there anyways? Killian often doesn't come back to his room until after dinner time." Ruby had asked her once. The question made Belle stir in her seat for a moment.
"We're uh... We're trying to undo some of what Rumple had done. Starting with getting the faeries out of the hat."
"Oh! That's so sweet of you. Any progress?" Belle's face sank at that and she shook her head slightly. "Ah... well I'm sure you two will figure something out. You're smart."
If she didn't know any better, Ruby could've sworn she saw the blood rush to the other woman's cheeks as she mewled a small "thank you".
She rounded the corner and parked the van near the library. Ruby knew from the order that Killian was probably there as well, but a part of her hoped it would be just Belle. She couldn't pin down exactly why she wanted that and she didn't want to think too much into it. She walked to the library and pushed the heavy door open, calling out that the delivery was here. There was no response and after stepping inside, Ruby was met with an empty reception desk and no sign of either Belle or Killian. There was a corkboard in one corner with photos and notes and red string pinned into it.
"Belle? Hook?" she called out again and waited for an answer, focusing her ears to any sound they would pick up. She both liked and despised her heightened senses. They were useful most of the time but she could do without overhearing certain conversations and comments, especially the ones pertaining to her. Some people still feared her, feared she would turn into a wolf and ravage the diner's clientele at random.
She's been getting better at controlling it, or at least subduing it. She cut off a trim of her cloak and wore it on her at all times, in her hair, around her neck, or tucked into a pocket. It helped prevent any emotional outburst from triggering a transformation. She still hated the full moon however; being turned against her will and having to hide herself away all day, trying to contain the beast. Before the Moon rose into the sky at night, she was snappy, aggressive, every little inconvenience made her blood boil. The new moon, in turn, left her weak and lethargic and all she wanted to do was sleep. It had its ups and downs but she was doing her best at managing it.
Her ears picked up on the faintest of sobs and her head turned towards the back of the library. She left the order at the reception desk and made her way into the library, through the shelves and towards a back room. The sobs got louder and standing in front of the door with a âEmployees Only sign, she could hear them clear as day.
"Belle..." she could tell it was her, the sweet perfume she wore lingering in the air. It hurt Ruby to hear her cry, and not just because it was so loud for her - Belle crying was not something Ruby ever wanted to see. "Belle?" she called out a little louder, tapping on the door. The sobs and whimpers stopped and the inside lock released, creaking the door open just a smidge. Ruby pushed it open wider and saw Belle hunkered down on the floor, sitting on a book stack with a tissue in hand. "Hey," she whispered out weakly, straightening her back but not looking up at the woman standing in the doorway.
Ruby crouched down, running her hand up and down the woman's shoulder, hoping to soother her. "I came in with your food and heard you crying, is everything okay?" Her eyes wandered to a book lying on the ground (it was unlike Belle to drop books, she treated them like sacred items). It was a Disney book, based on this world's version of "Beauty and the Beast" movie, featuring art and scenes from it. Ruby glanced back at Belle and urged her with a small smile.
"I found the book while sorting something," she started, "and it just... it hurts. That's how we were supposed to go, he was supposed to change and be a better man because of love. But I wasn't enough for him, no matter what I did."
"Oh Belle." Ruby moved closer and sat down next to Belle, putting an arm around her. "Some stories are just that - stories. And some stories have different versions, in yours it simply didn't work out." That caused another sob to escape Belle's chest and Ruby's clenched at the sound. "I'm so sorry he hurt you, but you can't put all the blame on yourself. When we love someone, we do our best to look past their flaws and see the best in them."
"Even if there isn't any good?"
"Belle, you have the wonderful tendency to see the good in anyone. Please don't let what Rumple did discourage you from it."
"What if I'm wrong about them again?"
"You weren't wrong about me, were you?" That seemingly calmed Belle's crying so Ruby went on. "When the entire town was dead set on hunting me down, you stayed by me. I'll never forget that.
Belle went silent for a while as Ruby continued to rub her shoulder. She hadn't noticed how close to one another they were, how their thighs pressed together or how good Ruby smelled until now. She also didn't realise that, with the way her head was hung, she was staring directly down the she-wolf's cleavage. Blood rushed to her cheeks but she made no attempt to move away, choosing instead to just lift her head to meet Ruby's eyes. She smiled down at her but concern was still painted on her face.
Belle had always been fond of her. She hadn't forgotten that Ruby had helped her in the past, and she was forever grateful for it. Ruby was fun, outgoing, openly flirtatious and spontaneous at times - all the things Belle had trouble expressing. She'd spent too long suppressing who she was and what she wanted in favour of coaxing Rumple to the side of good, hoping to calm the beast down long enough for the man to come out, thinking that, if she appeared more appealing than magic, he would give it up for her. Some good that had brought her.
"You good?" she finally asked, cocking her head to the side slightly. It reminded Belle of those videos of dogs, tilting their heads when intrigued by something. It made sense, she figured, considering Ruby was part wolf.
"I just don't know where to go from here," Belle confessed, "I spent so long doing everything I could to make myself good enough for Rumple. And now that he's gone? I have no idea what to do with myself."
Ruby's smile widened at that and she stood up. "There's time for you to figure that out. You won't have to do it on your own, you have friends to help you through it." She extended a hand and helped Belle up.
"Emma and Killian have been very supportive. It feels like they're the only two people in town who don't pity or resent me over Rumple."
"Wrong," Ruby stated. "Thereâs at least three people who feel that way."
"You?"
"Of course, silly. You're dear to me, would I have helped you if that wasn't the case?" Belle opened her mouth to say something, but simply nodded in agreement.
Ruby wasn't lying, but she wasn't being completely honest either - Belle was dear to her, but it went deeper than just friendly affection. If she had to put a name to it, it would probably be 'crush', although that felt too inane. From the moment she met her, she felt a pull towards Belle, a primal desire to help and protect her igniting deep inside her. Something about her made Ruby's heart dance; the way her face lit up when she was excited, how her eyes sparkled with an ever present hope she had for people, her undying loyalty to loved ones and her inability to give up on them. Ruby admired her for that but it hurt her too, seeing the physical embodiment of sunshine be rained on and pushed around time and time again. The love and support she had for others abused and mistreated.
It was exactly that love and devotion that had her running back to Rumple, believing all his lies and promises. Ruby respected that, she knew that Belle truly did love him (even if, in her mind, that love was misplaced and ill-appreciated) so she never made a move. However, now with Rumple gone and Belle left to once again, pick up the pieces, Ruby wished for nothing more than to be there for her. She knew she'd have to tread carefully so as to not come off as predatory, seeking to take advantage of Belle's heartbroken state.
Ruby smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Belle's ear. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. Just as I was before."
"Thank you, Ruby. And I for you, alright?"
The two smiled at each other and for a moment Ruby felt like leaning just a little bit closer, closing her eyes and just throwing caution to the wind (she wasn't a stranger to that), but the ring of Belle's phone whisked that daydream right away. She glanced down at it, pouting at the message.
"Killian says he got caught up sailing with Henry so he's running late, but he'll be here in a few minutes."
Fuck, Ruby had forgot all about her delivery duty. Granny was going to kill her.
They made their way to the front of the library, Belle checked to see if the orders were correct and handed Ruby the money for it."
"I should get back to delivering orders, but please, Belle, know that I'm here for you. Don't be a stranger, reach out whenever." She reached out and squeezed her hand, smiling at her. Belle smiled back and pulled her into a hug, squeezing tightly. Ruby's cheeks reddened, surprised at the sudden (but very welcomed) contact.
Walking back to the van, Ruby couldn't help but feel warmth radiating off of her entire body.
#chantecler writing#red beauty#ouat#ruby x belle#ruby lucas#belle french#these bitches gay#ouat fanfiction
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Have Another Go - 3A fic
posted on AO3 as well
summary - Killian seeks out and comforts Emma after hearing her parents' confessions in the cave. The two bond over their pasts.
prompts and feedback are always welcome. happy reading !
He felt a pit in his stomach coming out of the cave. He was forced to reveal his secret, to open his heart and lay it out in front of people who were, still at this point, loose acquaintances at best. Not to mention that Neal was back now and he could probably slice through the tension in the air between them with his hook.
Something else seemed to be troubling him as well - Lady Snow's secret. He could understand her reasoning, meeting your child when they're 28 and fully grown can't be easy and it was clear to Hook that the two missed out on a lot of moments together. But the way she phrased it made his gut churn.
"I want to have another go," really? This wasn't some sort of circus attraction paid for with dabloons, this was another child she was taking about. A replacement child. Her words knocked the air out of him, memories of his own past flooding back. If it hurt him this much, he can't imagine how upset it made Emma, she'd already been riled up from hearing about Neal.
He grimaced and looked around the camp - she was nowhere to be found. He excused himself, mumbled something about needing to fill his water canteen, and made his way down to the spring near their camp. He pushed aside the thick foliage and his eyes settled on a petite figure sitting near the water, knees brought up to her chest as she twirled a stick back and forth in the small pond.
"Mind some company, love?" he asked for permission before stepping forward.
"Don't wanna talk to anyone, Hook." she spat back, trying to make it sound angry and determined, but it did a poor job of masking the tremble in her voice.
"Good, because I came here to think too. We can think in silence together, no?"
She thought about it for a moment before scooting over to make room for him on the bank. He settled down a little way away from her, giving her space. Last thing he wanted was to push her too hard right now, when she was obviously upset and hurting. They sat together in blissful silence for a while, Emma continuing to twirl the stick in the water in front of her, Hook simply enjoying the sound of running water. Much to his surprise, she spoke first.
"You were an orphan." He couldn't make out if it was a statement or a question, but he confirmed nonetheless. "Did your parents die?" she turned her head to face him now, eyes red and nose puffy - she'd been crying.
"Sort of. My mother died when I was a wee lad. My father sold my brother and I into servitude a year later."
"Your father sold you?!" she dropped the stick as her eyes shot wide open. "What the fuck was wrong with him?"
He pained a smile spread across his face at his reaction. "He was wanted by the royal soldiers. Gambling debts or an unpaid tavern tap, I'm not quite sure. He hurried the three of us onto a trade ship and left us there. The captain said he traded us to him for a skiff."
"Your father sold you so he could safe his own ass," she repeated, almost as if to confirm she had heard him right.
"Aye. My brother and I spent some 10ish years on that ship, until it sank and we were the only 2 survivors. We were found by some naval officers and offered a position on their ship - this one paid for."
"And I thought being stuffed in a wardrobe was rough," she chuckled.
"Your parents did what they thought was best for you. Even when they hurt you, they were still looking out for you."
Her faint smile dropped completely at that. "Yeah, and now they're regretting it and having a second kid. Here on Neverland, they're starting a new family without me," she went back to absentmindedly twirling a different stick in the water, "and silly me thought I would've been enough for them. Or anyone, really."
"You're enough for me," he thought to himself. He wanted so desperately to pull her close and tell her it's going to be okay, that she'll never again have to be alone or feel abandoned or replaced or like she's not enough. Instead, he spoke quietly with his eyes still on the water in front.
"I'm sorry for what your mother said in the cave, Swan. I understand what she meant, but the way it phrased it, it was..." he moved closer to her, their sides now touching, "it was wrong."
"S'okay," she mumbled out. They sat like that in silence some more, he was surprised but glad that she made no move to get away from him.
"I met my father years after he had abandoned me." He spoke first this time. Her head turned to him, a quizzical look overtaking her features. He continued. "In a tavern, he had moved on as if nothing had happened. Met another woman, had a son with her too. Named him Liam." his jaw clenched at the last word.
"Liam... wasn't that your brother's name ?"
"Aye. My father had a replacement son. And I guess it was clear which of his boys he felt was worth replacing."
"Oh Killian..." She reached over and placed her hand over his on his thigh. He winced at the use of his real name, having not heard it said by another person in years. "I'm so, so sorry." She squeezed his hand and he looked at her.
"It's alright, love. It's been years, I'd come to terms with it years ago." Now he was the one who couldn't hide the tremble in his voice. "Even before he left, while mother was still alive and we were at our happiest, it was fairly apparent that he preferred Liam over me. He always was the better brother."
"That doesn't mean what he did was right."
They once again sank into silence, her hand still on his. When she spoke again, it was a hushed whisper.
"I guess I didn't even realise how right I was."
"Hm? What's that, Swan?" she craned her neck to look at him, green and blue locking together.
"When I was urging you to help us, I said that you and I understand each other. I didn't realise how true that was at the time, but the more time we spend together and the more I get to know you, the more I realise we're a lot alike."
He smiled at her and she smiled back.
"Aye, love. I guess you're right." Her head fell onto his shoulder and their eyes drifted over to the water in front of them.
"Hook?"
He hummed in response.
"After we find Henry and we're safely back in Storybrook, I won't fight you on your promise. To win my heart, I mean. If it still stands? Just... right now, he's my first priority, but after that?"
He pulled his hand away and wrapped that arm around her, pulling her just a smidge closer. "Of course it still stands. I never go back on a promise. And we will save your boy, I promise you that."
She hummed in response, linking their fingers together and whispered "Good". He could feel her smile against his shoulder so he squeezed her hand in return.
They returned to camp a little while later. Her parents gave them a look, Regina made a comment about them getting lost in the jungle and Neal attempted to jump into a conversation with Emma, although she shoved past him without a word, annoyed at his presence. She sat next to Regina by the fire so they could discuss some magic stuff. Hook sat down on a log, trying his best to avoid both Neal and David. He was not looking forward to a conversation with either, knowing damn well it would center around Emma and his intentions with her. Still, she glanced over at him a couple of times and smiled, careful not to linger long enough for others to notice.
There was still hope, a chance that she would accept his advances and maybe, just maybe, let him court her.
But for now, he seems to have calmed her mind a little - that was enough for him, her happiness and content. And perhaps he too could have "another go" at loving someone once they return safely to Storybrook.
#killian jones#emma swan#ouat#captain swan#emma x killian#chantecler writing#captain swan fanfic#cs fanfic
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Carve your name into my bedpost đ
one-shot drabbles written for cocktober 2023. most will be under 1k words. following the prompt list from @cs-c-ocktoberfest2023
Ch I - Caught in the Act : Read on AO3
#cscf23#killian jones#emma swan#captain swan#ouat#emma x killian#chantecler writing#smut fanfiction#one shot collection
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Carve your name into my bedpost đ
one-shot drabbles written for cocktober 2023. most will be under 1k words. following the prompt list from @cs-c-ocktoberfest2023
Ch IV - Secret Relationship : Read on AO3
#chantecler writing#killian jones#emma swan#captain swan#ouat#cs ff#emma x killian#cscf23#smut fanfiction#ouat fanfic#cs fanfic#emma x hook#captain swan fanfic#smut fic
21 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
yorkesure
call me ash đđłïžâđâđŸđ”đž
withoutalice
How can we know the future?
coffeecubes
â© mocha â©
axleart
because the pun was too good to not use
