#wish killian jones

[colinodonoghue]

tommydidario: Listen to the full episode on my podcast, “I’ve Never Said This Before,” on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts!

Spotify: open.spotify.com/episode/5tetr6… Apple: podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/ive…

[priscilla9993]

Some days were harder than others, being a first time parent and learning through trial and error, but having a baby stuck in a tower left him with less options than most. Killian wished on the days that Alice cried from something he couldn’t predict, he could have brought her outside, lulled her to sleep from the sounds of birds chirping, leaves from trees rustling, and waves overlapping themselves. However, he felt fortunate that the tiny tot’s wailing calmed whenever he rocked her in his arms and started a familiar tune. He didn’t mind singing her old lullabies from his childhood, almost bringing back to the present the way his mother’s soft lilt and ginger curls mesmerized him as she tucked him and Liam in. Some of the words were lost and forgotten to time, but the way Alice cooed, yawned, and wrapped her hand around his finger told him his singing carried enough. (Didn't know where in my fics to put this or if I should make a short one dedicated to Killian figuring out how to take care of a baby, so I'm sending this into the world in case I never use it)

[spartanguard]

what if Rogers had a fuller beard? (2/x)

(continuing from my and @pirateherokillian's conversation, because I can't resist that bearded face)

[queenofglassbeliever]

Why is S7 timeline so damn confusing?? Nearly 5 years later and I'm still on this.

How old would you say Ella is here? 15 or so? Okay agreed. A year later, when Anastasia (14) dies, she's 16. Anastasia gets put under that preservation spell and Rapunzel traps Gothel in the tower.

Alright, I'm with you so far. Some time later, Gothel tricks Hook into siring her kid. That kid, Alice, then spends 17 years in the tower before subconsciously conjuring a friendly giant that freed her.

Then Alice spends an unknown amount of time in Wonderland and other places before she crosses paths with Henry. Who has recently met Ella, whose an adult now.

So if Ella was 16 before Alice was born and it's been at least 17 years, does that make Ella around 33 in "Hyperion Heights" flashbacks? OK cool. I would assume Henry is around her age. Casting call describes him as being in his lat 20s to early 30s.

But wait. The description fits his cursed self not the very still optimistic Henry that Ella meets. Is cursed Henry in his mid 30s? And he's got a 10 year old daughter. Had to have been around mid 20s when she was born. And was early to mid 20s when he met Ella. And unless he's into older women, which is cool, then I'm going with the assumption that Ella was also around her early 20s when they met.

Then there's Drizella, who's a few years younger than Ella. And she appears to be around Alice age during the time of the "Hyperion Heights" flashbacks. Late teens - early 20s.

So Alice has been out of the tower for a few years. Good for her. Anyway, feels like Alice is the wrench in the gears here. She was trapped in a magical tower. Maybe 17 years only passed in the tower and only a few years in passed in the rest of the Magical Forest. Then there's Hook who definitely did not look like he only aged a few years.

But he was also a drunkard, so maybe the accessive drinking fucked up his appearance. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[priscilla9993]

Good to know that my likes haven't changed much; the first thing that I liked was Knightrook related. From that and seeing the sweet community on here, I guess I'm thankful that I found a new site to carve a space into and loads of new people to be friends/mutuals with. Knightrook and Madarcher/Curious Archer my beloved <3

Happy moments to lift the spirit. 

Dedicated to @lillpon. Send your request!

[stubblesandwich]

[dinneratgrannys]

(WISH) KILLIAN JONES, SEASON 7 I’ve only ever known one person good enough to pass on their name...my mother. Yeah. She, uh, she tried to stay with me as long as she could. And I vow to do the same for you...Alice. 

[dreadpiratestrove]

Age of Hook

Some headcanons regarding Killian's age.

Assuming he's physically around the same age as Emma and the Charmings (Colin is actually younger than JMo).

He was probably in the navy for a few years before Liam's death.

He was probably a pirate at least a year or so before he met Milah.

Based on Baelfire's aging Killian and Milah were together around 4 years. Milah was killed while Baelfire was in London as Hook was already in Neverland when he arrived.

Hook was present in the Enchanted Forest at least a year before the Dark Curse. Unclear when he permanently left Neverland.

Emma breaks the curse sometime after Valentine's Day 2012 (Skin Deep) and ends up in the Enchanted Forest shortly after.

They find Neal in New York and Hook stabs Rumple sometime after Aug 15, 2012 (Henry is 11).

It's fall or winter when they get back from Neverland.

It's winter or early spring a year later, 2013-2014 when they fight Zelena.

The S4 period of peace occurs during winter 2014-2015 (Rumple was in the hospital around Christmas)

The Camelot weeks occur before Aug 15, 2015 (Henry is 13)

It's winter again when Gideon sends Hook away in S6.

S7 Storybrooke is set around 4 years after S6 (Robin II is 5, Neal II is a child).

Henry spends a few years in the New Enchanted Forest before meeting Ella and being reunited with his moms and Hook. Unclear whether time has passed in Storybrooke.

Wish!Hook is 28 years older since the Wish Realm had no dark curse. Alice is born not too long after Regina's defeat.

His heart was cursed when Alice was around 12.

Wish!Hook spends at least 8 years (Lucy's birth and childhood) with Henry and Regina in the New Enchanted Forest between being de-aged and being sent back in time by the new curse.

[priscilla9993]

Chess Allusions: White Knight

Currently continuing a draft of some chess allusions in ouat season 7 and by god, the amount of times Gothel pulls an "always my white knight" as Eloise Gardener on Rogers (4-5 times but that's plenty). She knows about his history of wanting to protect loved ones and how he gave Alice a white knight chess piece to remind his daughter of how he'd do his best to save her. Gothel does her best to twist his good intentions into ones that suit hers, as if he can't do anything but be wrapped around her finger, but she's really the wolf in sheep's clothing. It sends chills down my spine as Rogers doesn't even know he's being misled, believing in her through the hazy connection he has for Alice, "her white knight".

Alice, on the other hand, never called her papa a white knight, as much as he wanted to represent that for her. If anything, when Killian and Alice reunited in the future, she gave back the white knight chess piece to him through Ella, implying that she's grown and claiming that she didn't need a reminder anymore because she knew they'd be together again someday, that he'd find a real cure in a way she couldn't.

I like the difference in how the same ideas are used, depending on the intentions of the one wanting to display something; i.e. a heartfelt promise, a gentle reminder of trust, or most blatantly, a manipulative deceit.

[victoriously-regal]

OUAT S7 CAST BTS

[queenofglassbeliever]

Love how he said that like it was supposed to mean something to Black Beard.

[priscilla9993]

If there’s one thing Killian won’t do, it’s abandon ppl that are vulnerable (unlike some people who create a child but only stay until they can sell/trade said child for their own selfish desires)

WELL I REWATCHED THAT SCENE FROM ELOISE GARDNER WITH BABY ALICE AND MY HEART

One: Killian's singing?? How did I not notice how mind bogglingly beautiful that was before now? Idk what it is about his singing in that scene but I'm gonna cry

Two: The voice crack when he mentioned his mother this man has so much completely unaddressed childhood trauma you can just see it all over him at any given time. The daddy and mommy issues are strong with this one (not saying the mommy issues are from any wrongdoing on Alice's part but she's dead and my guy is wounded from that)

Three: Other than memories of his mother he MUST be parenting with only the guidance of "be the exact opposite of everything my father was" because it's not like he knows what a good father looks like (unless you wanna count Liam who practically raised him)

So yeah that's my ramble thanks for coming

@fairytalepsuedonym Enjoy my knightrook shenanigans

[mccallhero]

belle french + saving killian from rumplestiltskin: 2x11 vs 4x12

requested by @stubblesandwich

[laianely]

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Tag people who may be interested: @killianxswan @teamhook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @caught-in-the-filter @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd @qualitycoffeethings

[vasfasan]

hook + gardening

[priscilla9993]

It’s only gonna get worse before it gets better, but damn, Killian needs medical attention. He’s not even aware what’s going on. Blackbeard makes me so confused. I don’t know why he’s there but I can only wish that he’s secretively on Killian’s side, even if he’s getting some payment for helping get prisoners on the caravan or paying a guard to keep Killian alive from getting beaten more in the moment. *cries in thanks but also confusion and concern*

Laden of the Torn (4 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Tagging @priscilla9993@cocohook38 <3

***

All too soon, the guards were back, making a terrible racket and showing no regard for Killian’s misery.

“Move out, prisoner! Hop to it!”

“Don’t make us come in there!”

Groaning quietly, Killian collected trembling limbs and tried to remember how to stand. He had just gotten one foot flat against the floor and his bare stump on the wall for balance when heavy armor flounced across the room in his direction.

“Dawdling will only earn you a proper hiding!” growled the guard as he grabbed Killian by the elbow. “Move!”

Killian allowed himself to be hauled up; gods knew he couldn’t manage it on his own. The dingy walls spiraled around him as if the entire building were caught in a raging maelstrom. Killian gulped back now-familiar queasiness. The laceration in his scalp seemed to be splitting the whole thickness of hair, skin, and skull, until even his brain was rent in two. A violent shove by the guard sent him stumbling forward, and perhaps under normal circumstances he would have caught himself before falling, but his physical condition plus the unexpected drag caused by the ball and chain gave him no chance this time. He landed hard on his knees, and it seemed his thoughts would never stop rattling around inside his poor banged-up head.

Impatiently, another guard tromped inside, and together, they dragged Killian up and frog-marched him to a waiting line of similarly encumbered prisoners. He was shoved to the back--“Where I can keep an eye on you”--and it was probably for the best, because if he were leading the ragged gang of convicts, their route to the front door would have been slow and circuitous. As it was, at least he had the feet of the man in front of him to focus on, and something pointy between his shoulder blades to motivate each unsteady step.

The outside light was utterly blinding. Killian had to squeeze his eyes closed and shield them with his hand as he continued to stumble forward, hoping he wasn’t about to crash into the prisoner ahead. The shackle at his ankle was already chafing his skin as he dragged the heavy ball along. Above the clanking and grating all around, he began to hear jeers and mutterings of condemnation--a crowd of onlookers, gathered to bid good riddance to the criminal element?

A sharp little pebble struck Killian on the head, perilously close to his throbbing injury. Judging by the cursing and impotent threats coming from up ahead, his fellow prisoners were dealing with the same thing. So far, the guards didn’t seem to care as long as they weren’t the ones being targeted.

Killian slitted open watering eyes in the unlikely hope of seeing someone trustworthy among those gathered, someone who could take a message to Alice, or at least tell her what had become of him. The faces were mostly a blur, loathing and scorn the only thing recognizable among them. Not a trace of sympathy that Killian could make out. Well, he had trekked for several days to reach this particular location, with its ill-fated House of Blessed Bread and its ambush. If anyone did know of him here, they were likely to be allies of Ahab’s and no friend of Killian’s.

At the end of the cobblestone street, where an intersecting road led out of town, an indistinct wagon stood at the front of a similar line of convicts, who were chained together by the ankles and already dressed in tattered prisoner’s uniforms. Killian could not make out their number, or the number of guards stationed nearby, but it was certainly enough to discourage foolhardy escape attempts. Now would be the last chance to act, while relatively untethered and lightly guarded. Which did not matter in the slightest, given Killian’s current helplessness: he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere even if he could muster the strength to break free.

Except, he wasn’t the only one who could calculate the odds. 

Before Killian knew what was happening, the two men in front of him had whirled and were shoving him backwards into the rear guard, as shield or distraction or both, and he was fortunate that the force knocked him sideways just enough to avoid the ready spear. But his head collided painfully with the guard’s steel breastplate, adding to the fog already slowing his reflexes, so that the only thing saving him from complete collapse was a desperate flailing hand grasping at whatever was nearby.

Shouts of anger and alarm spurred more convicts into action, and the sentries were suddenly hard-pressed to keep control of the line, though with some of the more courageous onlookers rushing forward to wrestle back the fleeing, the chances of anyone making it through to freedom were slim. Still, with nothing to lose, those who had taken the gamble fought fiercely. Killian found himself clinging to a guard’s spear arm as a fellow prisoner wrestled for control of the weapon. The guard’s free hand took a fistful of Killian’s hair and smashed his face into the other man’s temple. Reeling and spitting blood, Killian staggered sideways, hoping to get clear of the struggle, only to take an elbow to the jaw from the irate criminal. 

A high-pitched ringing accompanied Killian’s heavy landing on the pavement. Fighting for breath, he tried to roll away from the action, but his chain became entangled with the guard’s feet. He made himself as small as possible and closed his eyes, praying he wasn’t about to be trampled or gored by an errant spear.

Having just subdued two other would-be escapees, another guard turned just in time to see his comrade tipping over, almost in slow motion. In the heat of the moment, he could not be blamed for thinking that Killian had intentionally used his chain as a tripping hazard. As the first guard landed with a crash, still engaged in the desperate struggle over his spear, the second raced over and dealt a hefty blow to the convict who had started it all. Skilled or merely lucky, he managed to knock him out in one, then he turned his fury on the hapless pirate nearby. Without even checking on his downed colleague, he began to beat Killian with the butt of his spear, pummeling him across the back and shoulders, kicking him in the ribs, making an example of the one man who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Too out of breath to even beg for mercy, Killian lay helpless as he absorbed blow after undeserved blow. 

It seemed the violence lasted a lifetime, twice the length of his Neverland days, until he could only hear the weapon hitting flesh and no longer feel it. Everything else had gone strangely quiet, and he imagined the villagers, train of convicts, and even the birds in the trees focusing on punishing his past sins. Then a loud, arrogant voice cut in. 

“Pardon me, gentlemen. Is it truly your intention to kill this old cripple?”

Once again, Killian could swear he recognized the voice, though he was in even worse shape to identify it than he had been the first time. Not Ahab, though; he would stake money on that fact. To be honest, the only thing that mattered was that the beating had stopped, momentarily at least.

“We warned ‘em what would happen if they caused trouble,” came a growled response. Killian drew a long, careful breath, the first he’d managed since time began. 

“Is that so?” The stranger sounded disinterested, bored even, but despite his current suffering, Killian could hear the devious undertone in the words. “Well, should you decide to deliver the promised number of laborers to that lot over there, allow me to offer you my services.”

There was a blessed beat of silence where nothing happened apart from the very act of breathing threatening to tear Killian’s rib cage through his chest. Then the guard gave a disdainful huff.

“Dunno how much use he’ll be in the labor camps anyway, with only one hand.” 

But he did not resume the bludgeoning, and Killian heard him take a step back. The newcomer seemed to sneer as he replied,

“I’m sure they’ll find something for him to do.”

A spearpoint was suddenly digging painfully into a bruise at the small of Killian’s back. 

“Get up, then. If you want to live, now’s your chance.”

Killian couldn’t, of course, and it had nothing to do with the will to live. Inflammation stiffened every muscle and fused each joint, and even the attempt to lift his head sent a lance of severe pain down his spine. He groaned hoarsely.

“This one’s about done for, I think. Get the rest moving.”

A moment later, shouts and the shuffling of feet made it plain that Killian was being left behind. The guard poked him again.

“Last chance.”

With massive effort, Killian managed to roll prone, stifling curses all the way. He’d rather meet his death face forward, but the thought of lying on his throbbing back made him even more queasy than he already was. 

“If I may?”

Killian heard the rustling of movement and the scuff of boots on the stone near his shoulder, and he cringed, expecting more caning, or even a blade across the throat. Instead, rough hands slithered beneath his bruised torso, and then the wind left him again as he was hoisted up and slung over a broad shoulder.

He must have blacked out momentarily. When awareness returned, the massive pressure inside his skull seemed likely to squeeze his brain out through his ears, and he could only gasp one fingerful of air at a time, in the rare instances when his battered ribs weren’t banging against the solid form beneath him. He was being carried like a sack of flour, jolting along the cobbled street and wishing a spear had found his heart so he could have avoided this agony. But he couldn’t protest and couldn’t struggle, and his only hope of a reprieve was to return to a state of blissful unconsciousness, but the pain was preventing even that now.

Whoever had hold of him was pungent with sweat and cheap rum, and he certainly showed little regard for Killian’s comfort as he lugged him toward the waiting train of convicts. Killian hoped he had more sense than to try and place him on his feet when they arrived; he knew his legs would immediately give out and he’d likely do himself more damage as a result. But no, as woozy as Killian was, he had retained the mental layout of his surroundings and judged by their direction that they were heading for the wagon at the front of the line.

The relief was short-lived as he was dumped carelessly onto the bed of the wagon with nothing to blunt the impact, and the only thing keeping him from crying out in pain was the inability to first fill his lungs with enough breath. 

As he shuddered through the worst of it, Killian slitted an eye open and caught a flash of crimson, red as the blood he’d surely been shedding on his dispassionate benefactor, and then the unmistakable glint of gold coins changing hands. By then, the vertigo had scaled back up to “worst of the worst,” and he couldn’t even find the strength to roll onto his side as unproductive retching tore at his insides. The only way he could tell when the wagon started moving was the shockwave resulting from each little rock and pothole, lengthening the eggshell cracks in his skull and magnifying every other bruise, contusion, and gash until every second was laced with infinite anguish. 

He never noticed that no guards or chain of prisoners followed along behind them.