Live to fight another day, mate.

After having Killian since 2015, I’ve finally put up my bio page over here. I’d really appreciate you giving it a read before we interact!

Some things to note:

My Captain Hook / Killian Jones is canon divergent and does not singularly follow the Once Upon a Time canon post S3A. He’s influenced by Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie and personal headcanons.

In my canon there is no CaptainSw.an relationship. I am happy to plot with Emmas to establish how their relationship developed beyond Season Two. But there will be no romantic involvement. 

Killian is not from the Enchanted Forest. He is from a Greek inspired realm, named Elysia which I have developed alongside @rightfulcaptxin for the Jones family and Ed to be from due to the hints towards Greek mythology in their past (pegasus sail, ability to read ancient greek, etc. )

Neverland Again; on the bio is very different to the show canon of Killian’s return to Neverland where he travelled back and forth between Neverland and The Enchanted Forest regularly.

QUICK LINKS: VERSES  |  CROSSFANDOM  |  DESCENDANTS BIO  |  RULES

Forget - me - not blues settle on his brother’s wound, the flash of bloody bandages more than enough to more than to stoke a fire in the elder twin’s veins. Wrath laps at an already shadowed heart and ringed fingers curl into a fist at his side, clenching until nails leave crescent shaped marks in the skin of his palm - and Killian fights a rising tide of emotion, quelling the voice in his head that whispers there is nothing else to do but rip those who would harm Quinn limb by limb. “Nothing to worry about?” The other man might as well have suggested he sink The Jolly Roger, he’d have just as easy of a time stomaching that.

Fingers of his one hand reach out, tugging his brother closer, heedless of any ache or sting such an action might bring about. Aye .. let it. The muscle in his jaw ticks in an ever growing frustration at the frivolity that accompanies both the explanation and acknowledgement of the wound itself and the pirate lets out a growl of a threat, momentarily allowing his façade of disinterest in Quinn’s adventures to crack. There will be other days to pretend his brother’s brushes with fate hold no weight upon him - but this one is not it. “For your sake, mate, I hope sorted our differences means he’s laying dead in an alley somewhere, lest he come back to try and finish the job.”

Curved steel catches the hem of his twin’s shirt, raising it until gaze can study the shoddily patched injury before meeting the blue stare so much like his own. “Lucky for you, brother of mine, it seems your fighting skills outweigh your healing ones.” The unspoken thought lies heavy on a rum flavored tongue, kept firmly locked behind a clenched jaw and an air of nonchalance. What if I had lost you too? To have the other man ripped away from him in a manner not of his own choosing is a thought Killian can’t bear, so it’s with a furrowed brow that he works at the stained covering, wincing when the result of his brother’s fight is finally revealed. Fingers fish out a gold coin from Quinn’s coat pocket, transferring it to his own with a raise of one brow. “ Consider that my payment for helping you, and consider this  - “ Hand frees the flask at his hip, undoing the cap with a fluid motion before splashing its meager remains on the other man’s side. “ - a reminder to not be a complete bloody idiot.”

He ought to have known better than to assume his brother might permit him to dismiss his issues as little more than a fleeting concern and yet apparently the lesson is yet to sink into his skin. The unbidden noise of complaint slips between his lips as he’s tugged closer and though he might offer intial protest, he quells the fight beneath his skin and submits to his brother’s observations lest he provoke his ire. There’s still some boundaries that he’s tentative about pushing, wary of trembling the foundations too violently and crashing

There’s something of a scoff that escapes him as to the state of his enemy, but he offers no insight, merely quirks an eyebrow in a manner that is wholly annoying younger sibling and nothing business like or bartering. He might offer a quip or two of his own, but before he can formulate one worthy of casting upon his elder, there’s his banadages being ripped away and fingers relieving him of his coin. His mouth shifts, protest on the tip of his tongue before rum is spilling across the wound and he barks a hoarse shout of pain that tears from his throat, eyes now daggers as he glares upon the other.

“You damn bastard...” he barks, hand falling to hit on his leg, clenching at muscle as he forces himself to take an even breath. Gone is that caution he had been exhibiting, the tentative steps dancing about the other, replaced instead with complaint and grousing unrestrained. “Never work in a hospital. You have the bedside manner of a crownsguard leading an interrogation...” he spits after between clenched teeth, grinding them to force himself on through the pain. “I should charge you for your shoddy care. Plus compensation.” He’s well aware of the insult in his words, deliberately placed in order to attempt to shirk Killian from his attentions and return them to other matters.

Being cared for is not something he is equipped to cope with.

❝ This won’t end well fer ya without me. ❞

     He leans forward, eyes hardening in their cold stare. Tongue washes over his bottom lip before sucking in a breath. He doesn’t have options and the thirst burns his throat. Archer finds himself eying the other’s neck, fangs elongating against his will. It’s been too long. 

❝ I protect ya… and all you need to do… is feed me. ❞

[ @hookedsurvivor​​ ]  𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁

Teeth grind together in frustration as the protests fall dead upon his tongue, gaze instead caught on that unyielding, icy stare that pins him in place. He wants to protest; proclaim he was doing perfectly fine without the other by his side, but the words are littered in lies and so he swallows them down. He was surviving before but he was barely scraping towards anything resembling fine.

“Feed you? What the bloody hell kind of deal is that?” he spits instead, eyes drawn toward the other’s mouth as he speaks catching the glimpse of sharpened points, fangs. There’s a sharp inhale as he wavers between taking a step back and holding his ground, eyes returning to that stare.

@ofregence​ asked: ‘  there is never an end  ’ -screams-

A brow arches, head tipping to the side as he casually observes the other, attempting to ascertain just where such words come from, the attributed meaning behind them. He’s unhurried in response, arms folding loosely across his chest, back coming to rest against the grain of the weathered mast, at ease in the quiet of the evening air.

“There is always an end, mate,” he counters, gaze shifting to drift beyond to the waning sun as it dips below the horizon. He lifts his hook gesturing to the moment as though to punctuate his point, the quirk of his lips not quite a smirk - too fleeting to truly be anything really - but hinting towards an expression of amusement.

“You just have to look all the more harder for it, if the true end eludes you...” he adds returning his hook to rest on his arms, head tipping back as he casts his gaze skyward, contemplating the expanse above with a thoughtful expression, countenance smoothed of any frown that might have otherwise permeated his brow in the very moment, at ease for the timebeing.

@piraticalwit​ asked: “ you’re bleeding— how long have you been hiding this?! ” (Quinn please. Why are you like this.) //  FROM HERE

The question provokes a gaze downwards, the very gesture to do so akin to something like childlike curiosity and completely lacking the urgency one might usually summon for such an urgent matter. “Oh that? Nothing to worry about,” he answers in a breezy tone, fingers slipping through the folds of his oversized cloak to tug his shirt back down, obscuring the stained bandages from view once more. Not his best patch job, but all he had time for given he’d been forced to leave rather abruptly.

He returns his gaze towards that of his brother, offering a coy smile before his free hand waves through the air, dismissing the matter. “Don’t give me that protective brother spiel, I’m in one piece still... just a misunderstanding that went awry. We sorted our differences.” He offers no further information and seems to almost completely dismiss it; if not for the way he’s holding himself.

@ofregence​ asked: “ you can’t hesitate ” from ofregence 😘

“Have you ever known me to?”

Soft, lilting words are breathed into the space between them as Killian’s lips turn upwards into a smirk, adjusting his position where he’s sprawled in his chair, long, leather-clad legs kicked up upon the desk. It’s a quiet night upon the seas, the weather favouring this stretch of the voyage, and their supplies plentiful after their recent stop to replenish the hold before embarking on the next part of the journey. It puts him in an amiable mood, content to wile away the night hours with an uncorked bottle resting on the desk between them and lanterns flickering shadows about the room.

It is the closest thing he knows of peace.