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satansapostle6 · 1 month

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love and blood | killian jones

The course of history is changed forever when a ruggedly charming pirate’s fate is intertwined with that of a dark sorceress more powerful than any he had ever encountered.

Warnings: Violence. Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

I. The Encounter

Killian Jones, the handsome pirate captain known by the crude moniker ‘Hook’ for his missing left hand, had never passed through any territory so treacherous as that of the Land of Blood. What else he was expecting, he had no idea. But the long treks through the territory had him perpetually on edge, even with his entire crew behind him. The Land of Blood was like nowhere the captain had ever ventured before, even in his years as a seafarer.

Hook had heard many things said about the realm that had only been referred to as the ‘Land of Blood’, many a gruesome and depraved tale, but only now did he begin to heed the warnings, the hushed whispers he remembered being spoken in dimly lit taverns. Hook was an adventurer; he never backed down from a challenge of any sort, and he certainly never abandoned a rewarding quest. But even he was off-put by the dark, foggy forests and the occasional, intermittent screams that would cut through the silence every now and then.

Captain Hook truly had no idea what those strangely paced screams could have been, or even which direction they were coming from. But he knew one thing; the less time spent in this godforsaken land, the better. Soon enough, a small but grating voice cut into Hook’s contemplation.

“Captain, pardon me, but shouldn’t we take a rest?”

Hook’s first mate, William Smee, had broken the men’s long silent streak. It had been almost an entire day since they had docked their ship.

“We’ve been over this, Mr. Smee,” Killian Jones said curtly. “These are not woods to lollygag in.”

Killian had mixed feelings about his own use of the word ‘lollygag’, but he committed anyway and doubled down on his display of authority.

“But we’re all so tired, Captain,” Smee complained still, stopping to scream and squat as a giant raven swooped over his head. “I-I asked the men. They’re not too afraid of the wolves.”

It had been hours since Killian had last eaten, and his first mate had just disrespected his authority for the last time.

“Listen to me, you insubordinate fuck,” Hook spat, turning around sharply.

Mr. Smee gulped frantically as the sharp metal hook that replaced his captain’s left hand was held under his chin, the point barely piercing his throat.

“I am your captain. I am your judge, jury, and executioner, for a reason; because you’re all a bunch of idiots. None of you could survive another second in this forest without me. But you’re welcome to try, if you want that rest so badly. The fact that wolves are what you lot think we have to be afraid of in these woods shows how little imagination you have,” Hook reminded the group.

The men all seemed to look at each other in fear as they suddenly remembered the magic that existed in the world.

“Now. Anyone feeling brave?” Hook questioned rhetorically, throwing his hands up in the air. “Anyone feeling like taking a rest?”

The silence and stillness of all the men answered his question for him.

“Alright. Now shut up, and keep behind me.”

The journey deeper into the realm continued in complete silence. No one felt like provoking their ornery captain any further. It seemed Hook was the only one who truly kept their goal in mind; they had journeyed to the Land of Blood solely for the purpose of finding a mysterious individual by the name of Col, in the City of Ash, who was said to possess something essential by the vague name of the ‘Blue Scroll’.

Hook had no idea what this scroll was, or even who this ‘Col’ person was. He knew nothing other than that basic information, even in regards to who had sent him and his men on this strange quest. He knew almost nothing of his client, a bizarre and secretive sorcerer who had promised an obscene quantity of diamonds to the men. Hook knew nothing of the cloaked sorcerer he had struck a deal with; he was only mostly certain that it was even a man.

But asking questions was never something Hook concerned himself with, thinking himself an ‘opportunistic’ individual. Hook would’ve retrieved that damned scroll for a dog, had it paid him enough. Hook wasn’t stupid; he knew that the journey through the Land of Blood alone would be more treacherous than anywhere he had ever traveled before.

He knew that the journey there would be difficult and treacherous with stormy weather and magical obstacles, which it was, and he knew that the Land of Blood itself was full of magical lawlessness he did not wish to stay long enough to understand. He had made sure that his and the crew’s compensation would be more than enough to justify the harrowing task ahead.

Hook knew nothing of Col, or of the inner workings of the infamous Land of Blood. Although he had heard rumors. He’d heard many rumors, mostly pertaining to the dark magic that resided within the land. Some rumors suggested that it was ruled by dark sorcerers who lured children and criminals such as Hook and his men to their deaths.

Many rumors also seemed to reflect that some believed that the land was ruled by vicious cannibals. Some rumors even claimed that the criminals and monsters themselves had since pillaged the land, and taken control, still to this day continued on murdering and raping as they pleased. Most of the rumors about the Land of Blood believed all of these things to be true.

Hook’s greatest fear in his travels was that he’d find out. It was only hours before he and the men, on pained and tired feet, reached civilization. If it could even be called that. Hook ascertained that this realm’s idea of civilization was not like most of the places one might travel to. Everything was just everywhere. There was no sense of structure, no order.

Killian could not tell the residences apart from the establishments, and neither seemed to be well-run. Every single one of the structures the men encountered were crudely built and prioritized functionality above all else, as if built from scraps in a hurry. They saw no people; they only heard them, in the alarming forms of scuffling feet, or loud bangs, or even piercing screams.

Killian had no idea what was actually going on in this strange, disenfranchised village, but he kept to himself, fiercely ordering all of the men to keep their heads down and their mouths shut so as to avoid trouble. They had only just arrived, but Killian was quickly gathering that this was the kind of place to be avoided even in broad daylight.

*****

It took another day or so, but eventually, Captain Hook and his men found their way into parts that more so resembled civilization. There were, at the very least, actual roads, and buildings, and the people could actually be seen and seemed relatively safe to talk to. The men had asked around for directions and found suitable inns and taverns to acquaint themselves with, preparing for the rest of their journey.

It was another three days before the men of he Jolly Roger arrived in a town near the City of Ash. Even in the safer heart of the Land of Blood, their travels were still embedded with danger. It was like nothing Killian Jones had ever seen; even those who could be considered well-off in comparison with the other denizens of this cursed land seemed to have this glimmer of spiteful desperation in their eyes.

Even when they spoke to Killian and his men in a civilized manner, giving directions, or offering hospitality, it seemed as if they were still itching and would’ve slit all their throats without hesitation if given a reason. Given those odd experiences, Hook told his men never to interact with anyone unless absolutely necessary.

All of the people that they encountered were, at best, strange and off-putting, and at worst, violent and sadistic. Many of these strangers seemed to notice Hook and his men automatically, but luckily, none of them acted upon it.

Although they had all kept to themselves, the men had witnessed countless stabbings, magical duels, and other unusual acts of violence in the Land of Blood. Hook dreaded their arrival in the City of Ash, because he knew it meant they’d have to start asking questions once again. Luckily, their interactions were ideal, as far as the Land of Blood; just strange and unpleasant.

A man in a cloak had pointed them east toward the larger city, and Hook had thanked him promptly before they headed in that direction. He had been questioning the decision to take directions from all the seemingly untrustworthy locals ever since they had arrived, but nothing had happened so far. One thing that he was noticing was that almost everyone they had met was wearing a long, dark cloak, as if concealing themselves from the word.

None of his men had cloaks, himself included, and Hook was beginning to feel very uneasy as they reached the city. Once they had found themselves in the City of Ash, where it seemed to be lightly snowing for some reason, Hook took upon himself to ask a question of the nearby local he found to be the least threatening.

The longer they stayed, the more Killian became assured of the truth behind the cannibal rumors; everyone looked at them hatefully and hungrily as they passed through, from the beggars on the ground to the shop owners who Killian frankly had no idea what they actually sold, given the state of things.

There was a man in a burgundy cloak standing in the middle of what sort of resembled a town square, almost as if waiting to provide assistance, so Hook figured that this man had to be some sort of public servant or something.

“Excuse me sir,” he said. “Can I ask a question of you?”

The man looked at him with an almost scholarly curiosity. “Depends on the question.”

Hook’s crew all looked at one another, not surprised by the eccentric response.

“I’m looking for someone. A sorcerer,” Hook stated promptly.

“Do you have a name?”

The man’s voice had an odd, rather theatrical lilt to it, as if every sentence he spoke was its own soliloquy.

“Col,” Hook responded. “Just Col.”

“Mmm!” the stranger said with intrigue.

Hook tried to contain his confusing mixture of simultaneous fear and annoyance.

“No one’s come looking for Col in ages!”

The man thought for a moment.

“I believe you’ll find him skulking about the Forbidden Palace.”

“Great. And how do we get there?” Hook asked, only to be met with a loud, derisive giggle.

“Pardon me!” the man cackled humorously. “But one simply does not ignore the name of the palace! It’s called ‘forbidden’ for a reason!”

“What’s the reason?” Hook demanded impatience.

“Why, look at the people around you now!” the stranger reasoned. “Murderers, rapists, cannibals, lowlifes! Imagine the evil that towers over us!”

“We can handle it,” Killian assured him.

“No,” the man laughed still, “You can’t!”

“Just tell me how to get there!” Hook yelled, instantly regretting losing his temper.

“Fine, fine, fine!” the man complained melodramatically, “You go north up to the Haunted Forest, and you stop at the giant fucking palace that lords over everything like a giant bird in the sky! Satisfied now?!” he screeched at him.

Hook fought the urge to roll his eyes, concluding the conversation as calmly as he could. He was never this polite, but given these people and the strange magic many of them seemed to possess, he was in no mood to trifle with them.

“Thank you. We’ll be on our way now.”

The man watched with great interest as the group of men walked past him, heading off into the woods.

“You’re going to your death!” the stranger yelled at them rather cheerfully.

*****

The Forbidden Palace was just as eerie and sinister as Killian could’ve imagined. It looked like an evil place, made from stone that looked almost black. All of the men were starting to panic as they mindfully crossed the bridge together, watching fearfully as the gate began to slowly rise.

“Does someone know we’re here?!” Mr. Smee whispered.

“Shut up!” the captain hissed, drawing his sword.

The men readied themselves and waited, only for nothing to happen.

“Follow me,” Hook murmured, treading carefully. “It looks like a trap.”

They all proceeded as instructed, slowly inching their way toward the gate until they found themselves right at the front doors, alarmed by how easy it all was. Hook was startled as the heavy doors suddenly swung open on their own, revealing nothing but darkness inside. This, Hook knew, was magic, only he still had no idea as to who had conjured it.

“Captain?” Smee whispered as they stood at the open doors, sounding like a scared child. “What do we do?”

“Follow me,” Hook repeated through gritted teeth, his eyes dark as he prepared himself for danger, “And don’t make a sound.”

Hook and his men stepped over the threshold, all of them entering the palace just as he whipped around in an instant to find that all of his men were individually disappearing in puffs of thick black smoke. Killian began to panic as he realized he had no idea what was happening, nor did he have any idea what would stop it. He only searched the room frantically for the source of the enchantments.

He saw no one in the darkness, but once the doors magically shut behind him and his eyes adjusted to the absence of light, they settled on a tiny silhouette at the very top of the stairs that seemed a mile away from him. A small voice, even from that distance, managed to fill his ears like a yell. It was magic he was entirely unfamiliar with.

“Well. Who might you be?”

A woman’s voice, sultry and calculated, haunted and tormented his mind in a single moment.

II. The Witch

#killian jones #once upon a time #captain hook #ouat #ouat rumple #colin o'donoghue #captain hook ouat #captain hook x reader #hook x reader #killian jones x reader

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captainsvscaptains · 6 months

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Round 1 Part 8 Poll 8

Propaganda

No propaganda yet for Captain Killian Jones

Bill Seacaster is a pirate and don't you ever call him a privateer. He killed his own father when he was 8. He keeps other pirates shut away in barrels around his home and they can only come out when they're joining in to sing a song. He wears a coat that explodes when he dies. He is basically a pirate x10. He absolutely adores his teenage son.

No propaganda yet for The Doctor

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

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there is always a crisis. perhaps you should start living your life during them killian jones + purple for @lestatwillneverhurtyou

send me a favorite OUaT character and a color and I'll make you a moodboard

#once upon a time #ouat #killian jones #captain hook ouat #kazzy's moodboards #ouat aesthetic #aesthetic #once upon a time season 4 #since i'd already done a darker purple for him i went with more of a lavender #hope that's cool!

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transgenderism-horror · 6 months

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#hehe #spreading my captainswanfire agenda with no shame #once upon a time #ouat #emma swan #neal cassidy #killian jones #captain hook ouat #captainswanfire #ot3 #polyship #ot3 meme

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humblefryingpan · 12 days

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Once upon a time is an incredible show and I need to talk about the flashbacks (spoilers)

So obviously there are loads of flashbacks and I love the fact that they pay attention to character details when they go back. No matter how much a character changes, when they show the past it will be how they used to act, not how they currently act.

Like Regina isn't evil anymore but whenever there's a flashback she's fully evil, they don't try to say "oh she wasn't that bad actually! She always felt bad about it :( " they actually show how bad she was and don't try to change the character before it's time.

My gal can be doing something really nice and then there'll be a flashback to where she casually killed an entire city because someone there annoyed her. And it's all in character. They don't try to downplay her cruelty to prove her kindness.

And then there's Killian who goes from his golden retriever bf mode to the past "I'm going to kill him and if you stop me I'll kill you too." And they don't try to say he didn't mean it because he did. (Not that he likes gold any more now but there's a huge change)

I've seen loads of shows where any flashback seems wrong because they try to stick the developed character's new personality onto the old version and it doesn't fit them for that time in their life.

Once upon a time proving that it's fucking incredible at flashbacks/characters changing, made two characters go back in time and even then, the way they interacted with their loved ones was different because at that point it wasn't someone they know. There was a scene where present Killian literally punched past Killian in the face.

And when Emma started dating Killian so he made gold reattach his hand but the hand wasn't a part of him anymore, just how he used to be. So naturally, with that much magic involved, the old hand made the new Killian act how he used to because it basically infected him with his own past self.

And when Regina and Emma went to the weird alternate-genie-universe where everyone acted how they used to and it was so emotional because Regina saw her dead boyfriend acting like the asshole he was before they met and not as the man she loved.

Every time there's a flashback the characters are so accurate to their past selves. There is a really clear distinction between Regina and The Evil Queen. And between Killian Jones and Captain Hook. And I love the consistency of it.

#once upon a time #regina mills #ouat #killian jones #captain hook ouat #the evil queen ouat #the evil queen #robin hood ouat #emma swan

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nereidaa · 2 months

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my roman empire is how killian looked at emma during her telling her secret in the echo caves, after he just told everyone that his love to her is his biggest secret

imagine. you thought you aren't going to be able to love someone again for centuries after you lost your loved one, but then you meet that one woman. then, you watch her telling your friend that she will always love him. and then you hear neal telling her that he'll always fight for her. and neal is your friend. and the father of her son.

emma wanted to believe that neal is dead because then everything would've been less complicated. and so did killian.

#that makes me wanna cry and hit some pillows of mine idk #once upon a time #killian jones #captain hook ouat #emma swan #emma swan and killian jones #captainswan #ouat

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ravenknockss · 6 months

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CHAPTER FOUR: BRIDGING THE DIVIDE

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Needing a way to send a message to Henry, the adults and Marceline come across Devin and capture him. Meanwhile back at camp, Henry meets a Lost Boy who could very well be his only ally.

SUMMARY: A war of centuries has been raging on Neverland, Lost Girls versus Lost Boys. When they escape the island and the grip of Peter Pan, the two factions must reconcile with each other in a brand new world.

WARNINGS: implied sa, mentions of child death, indoctrinated/conditioned children, brainwashing children.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: cross posted on ao3

Regina walked to Marceline’s quarters and stood in front of the door, preparing to knock.

“Come in, your Majesty,” Marceline’s voice called from the inside. Regina’s brow knit in confusion as she lowered her raised fist to open the door and enter. “Did you need something?”

“No…” Regina said, looking into Marceline’s eyes as the girl sat by the window with a cup of steaming tea. “I was wondering if I could speak with you.”

“Of course,” Marceline smiled softly, gesturing to the empty seat across the table. Regina approached her and sat down, smoothing her blazer. “One cube or two?”

“Pardon?”

“Sugar,” Marceline answered, pushing a small cup toward Regina. “for your tea.”

“Oh no thank you…” Regina smiled as she put the rim to her lips.

“You said you wished to speak with me?”

“Yes,” Regina said, setting the cup down. “You said that when we get Henry you wanted us to take your girls as well as the Lost Boys… what if you came with us?”

Marceline tensed before placing her own cup down with a quiet clatter. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“When you leave the island, someone will have to stay and fend off Pan to protect the Lost Ones,” Marceline replied, gazing at Regina in solemn determination. “Even if they leave the island, his shadow, his magic can still reach them. I need to stay to keep them from him.”

Regina’s gaze softened. “Why does it need to be you?”

“I’m the only one who’s able to keep him at bay. I was destined to be locked in battle with him for eternity the minute I realized Evelyn was gone. The Lost Ones don’t have to be tied to that same fate.”

“What if we kill him? Now I know that the more… heroic of my compatriots wouldn’t necessarily be in favor of that, but if we can get rid of Pan we can free you too.”

Marceline let out a sigh before rising to her feet and staring out at the moonlit jungle. “Tempting but no. One thing I’ve learned about Pan is that he’ll never relent. He won’t stay dead and when he returns, I’d be bringing more innocents into our conflict. It’s safer for your realms if I stay here.”

Regina stared up at Marceline, heart panging in her chest. No child should have to carry such a heavy weight on their shoulders. “If that’s what you think is right…”

Marceline gave an affirming nod.

“I’ll be going then,” Regina answered.

Rumplestiltskin stood in the library, sifting through tomes and journals, with an expression of mild appreciation for the expansive studies conducted by these girls. Footsteps approached from behind him.

“What’s that?” Regina asked.

Rumplestiltskin turned the book and read the cover: “The Theory of Geographic Magical Thresholds.”

“Sounds enticing.”

“It is, actually,” Rumplestiltskin answered, turning to meet the Queen’s eyes. “It’s a theory about why different realms have different magical climates and rules of operation. It also offers a reason why Neverland is so… imaginative.”

“Well while we’re in this makeshift library,” Regina said. “I need your help finding a solution to our Pan problem.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, closing the book and reshelving it. “Killing Peter Pan? You may be good, dearie, but you’re not as good as he.”

“What about us? Together, we could give Pan a run for his money.”

He thought for a moment. “It’s entirely possible, but we can’t afford to fail and… Emma’s magic is shaky at best.”

Rumplestiltskin began to walk past Regina, but she caught his arm. “What about Marceline?”

“Who? The Lost Girl who rebelled against Pan? She may be knowledgeable, but we don’t know how well she does in combat.”

“She’s prepared to fight Pan for the rest of their lives!”

Startled by Regina’s sudden outburst, he replied with uncertainty, “Good for her.”

“We can’t leave her to that,” Regina said forcefully. “If you’ve spoken to her then you know she…”

“Know what? That she picked a fight with one of the most powerful beings I’ve ever come across in my life for a friend? Sounds like that’s her problem.” He pulled his arm out of her grasp as he began to walk away.

“Gold!”

“Why do you care so much, dearie?” Rumplestiltskin scoffed. “We’re here to get Henry, I don’t care about some lost girl with a tragic backstory. Marceline has her own problems and we have ours.”

“Concentrate Henry,” Pan’s voice said as he circled around the boy. “This is Neverland! You can conjure anything you want if you just believe.”

Henry took a deep breath, trying to shake the feeling of the eyes of the Lost Boys.

“Oh please,” one of the Lost Boys scoffed. “He’s not gonna do it. He’s been trying for three minutes!”

Felix’s voice cut through the air, stabbing at the mouthy boy. “Shut it, Devin. Have some faith in the boy.”

The boy sighed through his nose and gripped his spear, leaning back against the tree trunk.

“You can do this, Henry. I believe in you,” Pan said just as a carafe of lemonade appeared in Henry’s hand. As the condensation dripped through Henry’s fingers, he opened his eyes and beamed in awe. “You must have been thirsty.”

“I am,” Henry smiled before holding out his other hand, summoning plastic straws in his hand. “Come on, you guys!”

The other Lost Boys smiled, rushing forward to take a sip. Pan and Felix smiled down at the boys, huddled over the carafe—pushing each other out of the way for a sip to quench their thirst. Devin rolled his eyes and stood, walking over to the boys with a sneer. Grabbing one of the boys by their hood, he pulled him back and took hold of the straw.

“Nice going, wonder boy,” Devin scoffed, wiping his mouth. “But how is this going to help us kill Marceline?”

The other boys quieted down as Pan stared warningly at Devin.

Henry looked at Pan and back at Devin. “What do you mean, kill Marceline?”

“We don’t need to kill Marceline to defeat her,” Pan answered.

“Yeah because she’s going to give up,” Devin snapped. “To get rid of Marceline, we have to kill her. Tear off her head and put it on a stake!”

Henry’s eyes welled with fear as he stared at Pan who glared venom at Devin.

“Shut your mouth, Devin,” Felix hissed, grabbing the freckled brunette’s collar. “or should I shut it for you?”

“Stand down Felix,” Pan sighed before taking Henry’s shoulders. “Walk with me.”

Henry followed Pan into the treeline, staring back at Devin and the other Boys.

“I’m not going to kill her!” Henry declared once the boys were out of sight.

“Henry, listen to me,” Pan said, sitting down on a rock. “Sometimes heroes have to make sacrifices for the greater good. They have to slay the dragon to protect the kingdom and no one gives the fire-breathing reptile any thought. Marceline is your dragon, Henry.”

“I don’t care!”

Pan sighed and stood up. “I really didn’t want to resort to this.”

“What?”

“Come on.”

Henry stood for a few moments, conflicted as Pan walked deeper into the jungle. He followed hesitantly, ready for danger, but all of that fizzled into melancholy as he stood next to Pan—overlooking a pit of bones.

“What is this place?” Henry inquired, voice trembling.

“This is the place where we take our fallen boys,” Pan said. “Killed by Marceline and her Lost Girls. There’s at least a hundred skeletons.”

“A hundred?” Henry croaked, eyes watering as he stared down at the skulls and bones. “Marceline… she killed everyone here?”

“Down to the last boy,” Pan sighed. “Henry, I’m sorry I had to show you this. I didn’t know how else I’d get you to understand.”

“No,” Henry answered, voice wobbling. “I’m glad you did.”

Pan breathed and pulled Henry into a gentle embrace, cradling the sobbing boy in his arms as he smirked down at the pit—the illusion shifting in the fog.

“We should get back,” Peter sighed, guiding Henry away from the pit. “No one should stay here longer than they have to.”

Devin scowled as he stared down into the blazing bonfire at the center of camp from his favorite tree branch. His leg was propped up on a higher tree branch while he played with a knife in his free hand.

“Got a moment?” Pan’s voice inquired from above him, startling the boy enough to drop the knife.

Devin turned and gulped, nodding. He watched Pan suspiciously as he sat down on the higher branch.

“What is it?”

“When Henry defeats Marceline and saves magic, Marceline will be left alive but that’s only because death would be too kind for her,” Pan said. “When the Lost Girls are gone and she’s alone, Marceline will join us.”

“How is that a solution?” Devin scoffed.

“Tell me Devin… have you ever wanted a pet that you could do anything to? Could play all day long and would never make any mess?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“How would you like that kind of pet, Devin?”

“Where are you going with this?” Devin inquired.

Pan leaned in and whispered. “Marceline will be our pet… and we’ll do whatever we want with her.”

A devious grin broke out across Devin’s lips. “How far can I go?”

“As far as you see fit,” Pan smirked, leaning back. “Make her regret everything she’s done.”

“I think I’m going to hunt,” Devin grinned, jumping down from the tree and snatching the blade from the ground.

“Attaboy.”

Marceline sat in her quarters, drumming her fingers on the windowsill as the door opened behind her.

Emma’s voice spoke first. “You said you wanted to see us?”

“Yes,” Marceline replied, standing and turning around. “We may not be able to get Henry yet, but… perhaps you can get him a message.”

Regina and Rumplestiltskin shared a glance before the Dark One piped up. “And how are you planning on doing that, dearie? Pan will have protections.”

“And I don’t recall seeing a Neverland Post Office,” Emma added.

“Then I guess we’ll make one,” Marceline grinned, walking over to her workbench and plucking a glass vial from the table. “We just need someone that can get in and out of Pan’s camp easily.”

All eyes turned to Tinkerbell. “No!” the fairy protested. “I’m not endangering myself for some flimsy plan!”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about Tinkerbell,” Marceline added.

“Then who are we getting?” Hook inquired.

“We’re going hunting,” Marceline grinned. “For a Lost Boy.”

A pit formed in the stomachs of David, Hook, and Neal as they exchanged wary glances.

Devin traversed the jungle with his spear at the ready, adrenaline rushing through him as he thought of the witch responsible for the death of his brothers. Ripping past trees, his thoughts overflowed with memories of Rufio, Plank, and countless others. He remembered the fires that consumed their camps, the bones haphazardly buried beneath the topsoil, the entrails strewn across the trees.

He had no idea how fast he was running or how far from camp he had strayed, but now all he could think about was how he was going to punish the evil witch that had dared to stand against Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, who brutally murdered his fellow boys. When he came across a baby boar grazing in the brush, he jumped forward without thinking, prepared to stab the pig in the gut before a force pushed him against a tree. He grunted and groaned, trying to pull away from the rough bark and the vines that slithered around him, but it was no use.

“That was easy,” Regina scoffed as she and two other women approached him.

“What the hell?” Devin exclaimed. “Are you trying to start a war with Pan?”

Emma approached him, seething with rage. “Pan started the war when he kidnapped Henry!”

“And besides,” a voice lilted from higher in the tree. “We’ve all been at war for quite some time.”

Devin tried to crane his neck up, but he couldn’t see far. “Who.. who’s there?”

“Guess,” the voice answered from in front of him.

His head dropped, looking directly ahead of him. A brunette, dressed in a tattered chemise under leather armor, stared at him with chilling hazel eyes.

“You,” he growled, lurching forward to try and break through the vines. “It’s you!”

Emma, Regina, and Snow looked at him warily as he and Marceline stood a couple feet from each other.

“It is,” Marceline answered smoothly. “Who are you, anyway? I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you on the island before, but… your name slipped my mind.”

“I’m not telling you anything, witch!” Devin hissed. “Pan’s coming! He’s training Henry to defeat you.”

Marceline had to suppress a chuckle. “Is that so?”

“Henry?” Emma inquired. “Why Henry?”

“He has the Heart of the Truest Believer!” Devin smirked. “He’s the one who’s going to stop Marceline from stealing Neverland’s magic!”

Regina turned away, chuckling lightly as Marceline let out a small titter. Snow and Emma looked at each other.

“Why are you laughing?” Emma asked. “Is this true?”

“It’s false to the point that it’s funny,” Regina scoffed. “Look around you, Emma! Magic is dripping from the leaves! You can’t just steal magic from a place that supposedly has an infinite amount!”

“You’re lying!” Devin protested.

“She really isn’t,” Marceline answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma sighed, approaching Devin with kind eyes. “Tell us where Henry is.”

“Why should I?”

“When we leave this island, we can take you and the rest of the Lost Boys with us. You can have a home!”

“Adults really are stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you think we’re here?” Devin snapped. “We’re here because we don’t want to go home! Our homes were where we learned that we were alone. Pan gave us a place where we could be together.”

“Really?” Marceline smirked, staring into Devin’s blazing blue eyes. “What happened to Slightly?”

Devin lurched forward with glassy eyes. “You and your girls slaughtered him! Strung him up against the Hanging Tree!”

“I wish we could take the credit, but my girls had nothing to do with Slightly’s untimely demise.”

“Likely fucking story!” he roared, struggling against his binds.

“You remember what happened before Slightly,” Marceline said, stepping closer to him. “How there was a lull in the camp. All the boys were tired and weary from running and hiding. No new boys had shown up in decades…”

“What are you saying?”

“What would be the best way to rekindle those dying flames of vengeance?” Devin stayed still, glaring up at her. “Slightly was always the one who questioned Pan… why not kill two birds with one stone?”

“Then I guess Slightly should’ve known better,” Devin answered.

Snow stared at Devin, tears welling in her eyes. They weren’t tears of sorrow or pity, but rather of fear. He stared at her, a subdued grin playing on his face.

“Emma…” Snow mumbled as she walked into the treeline. “Emma, I can’t.”

“Mary-Margaret, wha—?” Emma said, following after her.

Regina rolled her eyes as she stared at the boy.

Emma stopped at the edge of the treeline, pulling Snow back.

“Emma… I,” Snow sighed.

“Hey… Mary-Margaret, what is it?”

“His eyes,” Snow breathed, sniffling slightly. “He didn’t even care that Pan killed his friend!”

“Yeah,” Emma mumbled. “It seems like they’re more loyal to Pan than we thought.”

“I…”

“What?”

Snow looked up at Emma. “I don’t think he’s even a boy anymore.”

“I don’t think any of them are,” Emma answered forlornly, looking back at Devin who stared directly at her with murder in his eyes. “Even the girls.”

“I’m starting to think Neal and David were right.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t think we should bring them back with us,” Snow breathed. “They’re too far gone.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at him, Emma!” Snow urged. “Even if Pan’s gone… his influence on them won’t be.��

“Then we help them!” Emma protested. “How do you know what’s too far gone? Who are you to tell me that they’re past hope!”

Regina walked up next to them. “I think Snow’s right.”

“What?”

“Listen, I’ve been trying to act more… heroic lately, but I don’t think they would be good for Storybrooke,” Regina sighed.

“What?”

“Pan has been manipulating them for… we don’t even know how long,” Regina reasoned. “They’ve been conditioned… heavily.”

“Then we uncondition them!” Emma snapped.

“Listen, Emma. I get that this is a sensitive subject for you but… Snow’s right,” Regina answered. “they don’t know how to be regular boys and girls anymore.”

Henry sat in the camp, staring at the bonfire dancing in the middle of haphazardly made tents and forts. His mind swam with thoughts of his mothers, his father, his grandparents. A pit grew in his stomach as his heart began to waver.

“You’re Henry, right?” a boy’s voice said from above him.

He turned his head as the boy sat down. Henry surveyed him. This boy was much different from the others. His hair was messy, but still clean, as were his clothes. Everything he wore fit better than on any of the other Lost Boys and there was a certain sparkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Henry answered.

“I’m Morgan,” the boy greeted with a welcoming smile. “I’m here to help you make your Lost Boy vestments.”

“Oh… thank you,” Henry replied, mildly surprised at Morgan’s articulate and polite behavior. “Uhm… why?”

“Well… if you’re going to defeat the wicked witch of the woods with the power of imagination, you’ll at least need to look the part,” Morgan smiled, pulling out some brown fabric. Henry knit his brow. Something in him sensed that Morgan didn’t exactly believe Pan either. “Have you had any previous sewing experience?”

“Uh no,” Henry answered, scooting closer to Morgan. “Hey, could you tell me more about the witch?”

Morgan tensed before brushing it off with another bright smile. “Didn’t Pan already tell you everything?”

“Well yeah but… if I have to defeat her, then I need to know things about her.”

Morgan pushed fabric in front of Henry with a needle and thread. “Here, this is a backstitch. It takes longer, but your clothes will thank you in the long run… also gives you something to do… why don’t you try it?”

Henry picked up the needle and followed Morgan’s first stitch. “So what do I do?”

“Make a straight stitch and then double back.”

“Right.” Henry stared down at the fabric and slowly put the needle through the fabric, pulling it through.

“And then put it through the first hole you made.” Following the instructions, Henry continued in the same manner, making a shaky line across the length of the cloak. “You got it!”

“Thanks,” Henry answered, offering a brief smile.

“You’re a fast learner.”

“I guess.” He paused and turned toward Morgan. “So… who exactly is Marceline?”

Morgan took a breath, leaning further down as his eyes periodically scanned the camp.

“Marceline is…” Morgan replied lowly. “She’s a Seidr worker.”

“What’s that?”

“Magic from the Land without Magic,” Morgan answered. “It’s old, ancient magic from when the world was still young and the gods governed the earth.”

“So you’re saying that the myths from, like, the Greeks are true?”

Morgan gave a lopsided smile. “We’ll never know, but… the story of Marceline and Pan is the closest thing to a myth I know is true.”

“So… seidr,” Henry mused. “Is that why Pan wants me to defeat her?”

“No no… it’s much more complicated than that.”

“How complicated?”

“Convoluted. It’s fucking… fucked.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Don’t say that!”

“Say what? Fuck?”

“Yeah! You shouldn’t say that!”

“Have you ever actually sworn in your life?”

“No.”

“It might do you some good, especially now that you’re here.”

“Anyways… Marceline?”

“Yeah… so there were some bridges built, things were said, things were done, and then the bridges erupted in flames and burned to ash with no hope of being rebuilt.”

“Vague much?”

“I can’t say much,” Morgan answered. “I’m not exactly in great standing here…”

“What do you mean?”

“I was close with Marceline before the split… they’re all pretty suspicious of me as it is.”

Henry let out a breath and looked around the camp, spotting Felix weaving some rope by the fire.

“Nevermind… I’ll ask Felix.”

“Bad idea.”

“Why?”

Morgan looked up at him. “Felix is Pan’s second-in-command. He’s also been here longer than any of us. He’s seen more combat than anyone else on the island—except maybe Pan. I’ve seen him push boys up against trees and beat them half to death because he had a bad day.”

“Well, it won’t be a very good idea on his part to beat up the one who has the Heart of the Truest Believer,” Henry answered as he walked to Felix, ignoring Morgan’s further warnings.

Sitting down next to the tall boy, Henry stared up at him expectantly.

“What do you want, boy?” Felix drawled.

“What exactly happened between the Lost Boys and Marceline? What makes you think that she’s stealing magic?”

Felix whipped his head to face Henry before sending a glare to Morgan.

“Why do you want to know?” Felix hissed. “Didn’t your mother tell you to not ask so many questions?”

“Actually, she encouraged me to,” Henry answered coldly. “It’s called critical thinking, I wouldn’t expect you to know it.”

Rage simmered in Felix’s eyes before Pan appeared behind him and spoke.

“Stand down Felix, let’s tell him.”

Henry looked up into Felix’s eyes, baffled as the rage in the larger boy’s blue eyes dissipated into a gaze that Henry couldn’t place.

Pan sat down next to Henry, straddling the log next to the fire, staring into it. “Marceline came to me in a dream. Her friend was dying at sea and she couldn’t find a cure. We came up with a deal. I’d heal her friend so long as she stayed with me in Neverland and searched the threads of fate to find you.

“In any case, she hid from me for a while, having found the secret of Neverland’s healing spring. When I found her, she was with her two friends, Katherine and Evelyn—the previously sick one. They had built a cottage behind the Echo Cave. Katherine prepared the meals, Evelyn tidied up, and Marceline went out to hunt and study the land.

“I invited myself over and indulged in a home cooked meal, reminding them of our deal. After that, they joined the Lost Boys, but Marceline was always skeptical of me.”—Pan grinned at the memory.—“She was a sponge of knowledge. Always wanted to know more, learn more and share it with the world.”—He reached over Henry and nudged Felix.—“You remember her rant about physics and how flying shouldn’t have been possible…”

Felix snorted slightly. “And then she tried to make a micro-magnifiying glass to analyze it and see if pixie dust had gravity altering properties.”

Henry’s eyebrows furrowed. “A microscope?”

“Sure whatever.”

Pan continued. “In any case, time went on and boys became more common on the island. Eventually she warmed up to us and we fell in love. I helped her understand magic and her own powers. She helped me understand the island. After we… connected for the first time, the shadow started bringing girls to the island.

“All good things come to an end. She began to grow… discontent with the way the Lost Girls were being treated by the boys. I don’t really understand why. They were never in any danger, they just had to clean up the camp but I digress… they were angry, she was angry, and she got a bit too resistant…”—Pan gave a sad, lopsided smile.—“…even for me.”

Henry looked into the fire. “So… what happened?”

“She and her girls became more mean-spirited toward the rest of the boys and when I told her to stop…”

“What?”

“We got into a fight. A big one.”

Felix piped up, an uncharacteristic amount of awe apparent in his voice. “A battle that uprooted thousands-year-old trees, shook mountains, and cracked the earth.”

Pan sighed. “Yeah… that big. Amid the fighting, her friend Evelyn tried to intervene, get us to come to a reasonable solution. I don’t know whose spell hit her, but before we knew it, she was on the ground—cold and limp.

“Marceline blamed me for it and took her girls away, building four outposts on the island. In the tragedy, something else happened…”—Pan leaned in.—“In her grief, her anger, her madness, she triggered something I never thought possible. She willed the island to grant her its power. She… chained Neverland, the birthplace of dreams, to her for her own selfish needs.

“That’s why we need you Henry! My magic is strong, but not nearly strong enough to beat Marceline. Your magic… the magic of belief, imagination, innocence, it will save Neverland and all the realms.”

Pan stared into Henry’s eyes with a desperate glimmer as Henry stared into the fire, jaw clenching and unclenching as he processed the information.

“Henry?” Pan asked. “Is something wrong?”

Henry seethed. “Yeah, with her. She’s going down.”

#lost boys #peter pan ouat #regina mills #snow white and prince charming ouat #emma swan #16+ mdni #ouat neverland #peter pan #dead dove do not eat #captain hook ouat #neverland ouat #tw emotional manipulation #tw child death #tw implied sa

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herhookedhero · 3 months

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In 2017, the best moment of this game was when Chris’s son got a goal and Chris, who was on the sidelines, turned to the audience and yelled “THAT’S MY BOY!!!!”. It was just wonderful, real and I loved it. He His personality was big, gregarious and fun. He was friendly to the fans both in person and online. He was passionate about things he loved and what he believed in, and spoke his mind. He definitely loved his family and my heart breaks for them. Chris will definitely be missed.

#chris gauthier #rip chris #mister smee #Killian jones #captain hook ouat #ouat captain hook #captain hook #colinodonoghue #colin o'donoghue

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majeremorozova · 1 year

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True love is going to the Underworld to find the spirit of the one you love

#till the end of the moon #tantai jin #ye xiwu #once upon a time #emma swan #captain hook ouat #luo yunxi #jennifer morrison

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i-will-sing-no-requiem · 2 years

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@dinneratgrannys ouat appreciation week

Day 1: Favourite main characters

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satansapostle6 · 28 days

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love and blood | killian jones

The course of history is changed forever when a ruggedly charming pirate’s fate is intertwined with that of a dark sorceress more powerful than any he had ever encountered.

Warnings: Violence. Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

II. The Witch

III. Bloodlines

Hook and the respective Queen sat across from one another at a table that clearly hadn’t been in use in years, at the very least. There was a feast prepared as Hook helped himself to, not having eaten anything substantial in over a week. Carmella sat silent at her end of the table, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Hook stopped, putting down the turkey leg, “You don’t eat?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” she said in a low murmur.

All Hook thought was that she was very strange. But as a sorceress with such unknown origins she may as well have been a god, he knew not to question her many quirks and oddities. Hook stopped eating once again, unable to concentrate as she sat across from him, doing nothing but drinking from a crystal glass of wine-colored liquid, something he could only hope was wine.

“Are all you witches this beautiful?” Killian Jones demanded impatiently.

“Am I that alluring?” Carmilla asked with a bored tone of voice.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not some schoolgirl,” he scoffed, “It’s just… I’m trying to eat, and you’re too bloody distracting. Your eyes are like black diamonds, and your hair’s like the feathers of some beautiful bird.”

His words were poetic, but spoken with pure repulsion.

“I’ve received many compliments in my time,” Carmilla said reminiscently. “But the best ones have been out of spite.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Hook asked, returning to his plentiful meal.

“You know that’s not polite to ask,” Carmilla tsked humorously.

“You’re a witch. You’re powerful. The stories about you here… they go back years,” Hook recalled. “I don’t know if there have been other queens like you… But they seem to go back decades. Centuries, even. But you don’t look a day over twenty,” he thought aloud.

“I’m twenty-five,” Carmilla provided ironically.

“How long have you been twenty-five?” Killian asked pointedly.

She just shrugged. “Some time now.”

“How long?” he persisted.

“Fairly long.”

“Fuck you,” Hook scoffed, tiring from the games, “How long?”

Carmilla looked up at him sharply, as she contemplated whether to kill him for his disrespect, or humor him.

“I stopped counting years ago. But, as far as I know, I’m at least a thousand years old,” she supplied, sipping from her glass.

Hook was taken aback by her age. Although he would’ve expected to be frightened or appalled, he found his initial reaction to be pity for her, for having lived so long past her human lifespan.

“Magic has kept you alive that long?” he realized.

Carmella nodded. “It isn’t easy. But yes.”

“What do you have to do?” Hook asked.

“Multiple intricate rituals,” she explained. “Many of them… taxing.”

“But not for you, I’m assuming?” Hook gathered.

Carmilla said nothing, and gingerly sipped from her glass once again. But eventually, she did choose to speak.

“I have been alive for… at least a thousand years,” she said. “And I have been alone for almost as much. I never used to mind it before. But, now… It’s starting to get to me.”

“Is it?” Hook remarked with surprise.

“You try living up here, alone, for a thousand years and see how you fare,” she reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

“Point taken,” Hook assured her. “But, didn’t you have family once?”

“Once. Yes,” she told him.

“What happened to them?” Hook wondered. “Did they die out?”

“Yes,” Carmilla nodded, her eyes fixed on nothing as she glared with hate. “In a most gruesome way.”

“What happened to them?” Hook asked gently.

Even if it was for a split second, he could’ve sworn he saw a glimpse of something real in her cold and empty eyes, whether it be humanity, or pure rage.

“They were massacred. At least a thousand years ago,” she remembered.

“By who?”

“Witches,” she stated.

“But, aren’t you a witch?” Hook reasoned, not understanding.

“A very rare class of witch, yes,” she agreed.

“You’re not a normal witch?” he tried to follow along.

“Not quite. You see, there are many different kinds of magic, each with their own unique elements… Some are more difficult to master than others. I was born into a coven, you know. A bloodline of powerful sorcerers,” Carmilla offered. “Blood magic… was a gift passed down from generation to generation in my family.”

“That isn’t just wine you’re drinking… Is it?” Hook deducted.

Carmilla made it a point not to answer the question.

“Our abilities were marveled… coveted. A thousand years ago, the witches stormed our palace, and massacred my family. It was ugly. A genocide. Not even our army could stop them all.”

“Sounds horrible,” Hook said sympathetically.

“It was,” Carmilla agreed. “Until I rose to the occasion… Too little, too late.”

“What happened?” he asked, invested in the story.

“Much blood was spilt. Ours. Theirs… It was impossible to know who won by the end of it.”

“That’s awful,” Hook hoped that would suffice.

“Indeed it was. Why do you think this place is called the Land of Blood?” Carmilla looked at him with pain and disgust in her eyes. “This palace… It was awash with blood that night. I was a lone survivor. Our population barely survived. Those who remained named this place the ‘Forbidden Palace’. Charming moniker,” she scoffed.

“Why do they call it that?” Killian inquired.

“They believed it to be haunted. The locals would say you could still hear the screams at night,” she responded, an air of melancholy to her voice.

“Those screams,” he realized, searching her features for any sort of discernible emotion. “They didn’t belong to a bunch of ghosts… did they?” he confronted her with his empathetic disposition.

Carmilla shook her head. “No.”

*****

After the quiet dinner, Hook followed Carmilla around her empty estate, trailing behind the luxurious fabric of her dress bunching around her heels. His eyes settled upon the dark satin of the dress, hungry for both its rich extravagance, as well as what was beneath it.

“Come,” Carmilla beckoned, turning just before the stairs.

She offered him her hand as her pet raven perched itself on her shoulder, looking back at him in tandem with her, the way a human would. Killian Jones looked down at the sorceress’s hand, entranced by her long, claw-like fingernails that she had painted black to mask their unpleasant red stain.

“Where are you taking me?” Hook grinned, accepting the soft hand. “Bedroom?”

Carmilla was not amused. “Low-hanging fruit. But yes. I have something to show you.”

“I knew you’d come to your senses,” he retorted, following her eagerly.

The sorceress led him to her chambers, atop the highest tower of the castle. She waved her hand and the door opened automatically, allowing her to lead him to her vanity. Carmilla sat in front of the mirror, opening a small, ornate trinket box to reveal what looked like a single glass bead.

“What is that?” Hook asked her as she held the trinket gently in the palm of her hand.

“A remnant. From a different time,” she told him, as the raven bowed its head to examine the object. “It’s my last one.”

“What is it? What does it do?” Hook asked her.

“It’s a magic bean. It’s how we’ll travel between realms…”

“And that’s where you keep it?” he stared, watching her put it back in the little box.

“This is enchanted, sweetheart, I couldn’t let someone take this if I wanted,” Carmilla reminded him. “This will take us back to your realm. There, we’ll find more of these.”

“How?”

“That man you spoke to?” Carmilla said. “He’s got more.”

“You’re certain of that?” Hook clarified.

“Oh, yes. Col and I knew him well. If he’s searching for the Blue Scroll… That means he’s got everything he needs.”

“Col? You knew Col?” Hook realized, finally having a real answer to that question.

“Oh, yes,” the witch chuckled darkly.

“What happened to him?” Hook asked in response.

Carmilla looked at him with a soft smile, lightly turning her head to her left shoulder where the raven sat listening.

“He’s right here,” the sorceress said simply.

“He—That’s Col?” Hook pointed, staring at the bird.

“Yes. It is,” she confirmed his suspicion.

“But I thought you were the only survivor,” Killian pointed out.

“Col here was the exception,” Carmilla cooed, gently stroking his shiny black coat with a single finger. “He survived that night, but was cursed by a witch. In my rage, I ripped her heart out of her chest and sank into it with my teeth… But I didn’t realize that meant my chances of lifting the curse were even slimmer. It’s been many years. Somehow no spell or ritual has been strong enough to bring him back to me.”

Hook watched, his face twisted with sympathy, as the bird gave a meek squawk, sniffing at her with its beak as she did her best to give it some form of sad eskimo kiss.

“The sorcerer. He told me to find Col,” Hook said. “Did he mean in this state?”

“Dunstan may be clever, but his intel is always outdated,” Carmilla sighed.

“Dunstan?” he repeated in disbelief. “That’s his name?”

“‘Dunstan the Dunce’ he’s called,” she nodded, “Yes.”

“He seems quite the character,” Hook commented.

“Even mages need a village idiot,” she stated. “But I digress. It’s not Dunstan we should be worried about. It’s him employer.”

“Who does he work for, then?”

“A former student of mine,” Carmella answered bitterly. “She was present that night. Wasn’t she, Col?”

Hook looked upon her with curiosity as he heard a loud and disagreeable squawk. Both of their feelings were quite clear.

“This witch… She’s survived as long as you?” he calculated.

“No,” Carmilla scoffed with laughter, “She could never. At least not as efficiently. No. She’s from this time, I’m afraid. Although she was descended from the witch who did this to my poor Col. And that massacre on my family… Just a result of her misguided attempt to outshine her master.”

“You’re saying she went back in time to kill you?” Hook rationalized.

She nodded. “See, pirate, my disciples have a tendency to try and best me. Please don’t perpetuate the cycle, or else I’ll have your heart.”

Killian nodded slowly, beginning to understand her bedside manner, which could be described as ‘lacking’ at best.

“You can trust me, your majesty,” he assured her. “I have no desire to fuck you over. Over a counter, maybe…”

Carmilla shot him a look as they were interrupted by Col’s loud cries. Hook squinted in confusion at the bird.

“What’s his problem?” he asked her.

“Mainly that he was my husband,” Carmilla provided, seeing the look of embarrassment on Hook’s face.

They were once again interrupted by another loud screech from the raven.

“But, he also doesn’t like your coat,” she remarked, petting the bird to soothe it.

Hook gave the bird a pitiful stare, realizing just how lonely the two of them must have been after all this time.

“Relax. I know he’s not my husband anymore,” Carmilla promised, gently petting the raven. “But I’ll protect what’s left of him.”

“I know the feeling,” Hook admitted.

“Truth be told, I’m not worried about you betraying me,” Carmilla confessed, “At least, not any more worried than I’d be about a butterfly betraying me.”

She looked at him for a moment, chuckling at the thought.

“You have no family.”

“My crew was my family,” Killian insisted.

“Please. Those simpletons?” she thought. “They could hardly hold a conversation with you. What makes you think they could’ve cared for you as you cared for them?”

“Well, now I wouldn’t say I cared…” Hook mumbled.

“You did,” Carmilla informed him with a nod, not accepting criticism. “But that’s alright. It’ll be our secret.”

Hook nodded silently, accepting her bargain.

#killian jones #captain hook #ouat hook #captain hook ouat #ouat #once upon a time #captain hook x reader #hook x reader #killian jones x reader #colin o'donoghue

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