killian-whump reblogged
So after like years, I finally found the strengh to finish the doodle (I was very lazy with the BG tho :’)) for the oneshot she wrote and well hope you’ll like!
killian-whump reblogged
OH MY GOD, YOU GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYS
killian-whump reblogged
Is that what you were looking for?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
YOU DID IT <3
I AM DEAD NOW, BUT IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY
killian-whump reblogged
Happy Valentine’s Day, from the Jones bros!
frenchpichux replied to your post: Maybe Killian will have new outfits in S7?
The new outfit is “no outfit at all”
After all of your attempts to kill me... You have just succeeded.
killian-whump reblogged
No but that episode should have been called “where blueballs fly”
The final separation in episode 5x20 “Firebird”
Should’ve just called this episode “No, Trust Us, Life Will Be Easier for You After We Rip Your Heart Out and Drop Kick It into Next Year for You”.
Screencaps from kissthemgoodbye.net, brightened by me.
WOT. U WOT M8. Back the fuck up. What was that?
“Meanwhile, Emma and Hook will have to figure out if their romance works when they aren’t constantly in danger.” (x)
“Emma and Hook ... aren’t constantly in danger.”
Four seasons of watching this lunkhead get himself in dangerous situations drives me to make a whump blog for the bastard and then they decide NOW is the time to have him stop being in constant danger. NOW.
killian-whump reblogged
“I didn’t expect it to be quite as… intense as it’s been.”
IT’S GOOD FUN
i literally can’t right now
please leave a message at the beep
totally cannot
killian-whump reblogged
mossandmushroom-deactivated2019
CS, set in the future (sidenote: I once worked in a gift shop. Every few months an elderly couple would stop in. This ficlet is a result of suddenly remembering those two.)
.
The woman moves languidly through the store, her fingers trailing over the knickknacks almost fondly. She stops in front of a window to admire a trio of cut glass sun catchers.
“Fancy something, love?”
Her companion’s hair is dark, though there’s gray at his temples and along the scruff lining his face. He follows the woman at an even pace, his eyes tracking her every movement.
She shakes her head, continuing on to a display of tiny porcelain cats. “Oh, look! They’re almost see through!”
She holds one up and motions for him to look closer.
His smile is indulgent. “Fine porcelain,” he says in admiration, one finger running across the back of the figurine in her palm and then onto the stretch of skin between her thumb and forefinger. “Almost as finely made as these.”
He grasps her hand and kisses the knuckles and she laughs.
For a moment, the sun catches in her hair and it’s gold instead of white and he almost trembles in the dusty corner of a souvenir shop, remembering.
Then the shop girl clears her throat and the woman frowns, moving along to yet another display.
He follows.
.
The shop girl watches them absent mindedly until the bell over the door chimes —once, twice, three times– and she is otherwise distracted.
Their departure goes unnoticed by her– the man with his hand on the woman’s back, the woman smiling absently into his eyes, wondering where she knows that shade of blue from.
.
He enters the store again hours later. She is about to close up, and an involuntary sigh escapes her mouth as he walks in.
“Sorry to trouble you, love,” he begins, pulling out a wallet, the leather of which is worn and soft.
“What can I do for you?”
He scratches behind his ear, smiling ruefully. “I’ve come to settle a debt.”
“A debt?” She glances at the clock just behind his head. Her feet ache, and she wants nothing more then to get on with her evening.
“This afternoon, there was a lovely glass sun catcher over in that window, patterned after rain clouds.”
The girl’s eyes drift to the window. “It’s gone,” she says flatly, too confused or too tired for any other reaction. She does not recall selling it.
“And not too far from it, there’s a family of porcelain cats. Unfortunately, a spotted white one has gone missing. And just down that aisle, there was a small book of quotes. Nut brown binding, green script across the cover.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve come to pay for the items.”
“But why? Did you see someone stealing them? …I don’t get it.”
His eyes meet hers, and his smile is tired. “Aye.”
He hands her a card and she takes it, staring quizzically first at the card, then at him. “Ok, Mr. Killian Jones. I’ll look the items up and ring them through. I just don’t–”
“Thank you, lass.”
She frowns down at his head when he leans over to sign his name across the receipt.
“You know, if you’re covering somebody’s tracks you might want to rethink whatever it is you’re doing,” she says. “Like, you might think you’re helping them, but you’re only hurting them by doing this.”
He smiles again, slipping his wallet into his pocket and handing back the pen.
“I don’t think so love,” he says softly, turning to go.
“Yeah? Why not?”
He is at the door before he says anything. He turns to face her. “Because of something someone once said to me.”
“And what’s that?”
His smile is bright for a moment, even if there is something fragile about his eyes.
“‘Once a pirate; always a pirate.‘“ He holds her gaze. “And my Swan was a pirate long before I met her.”
He pushes the door open and steps out into the cool night air.
First of all, YES!!! YOU WROTE MORE!!! I have been waiting for your stuff for 835782 years and I’ll wait triple that long for it if I have to, it’s SO WORTH IT.
Oh Gosh, this ficlet by @mossandmushroom killed me so bad.