#lillpon

surprise! 😁😁  I’m sorry I didn’t draw savage thunder but something in it doesn't sit well with me I hope you will forgive me haha

this one I called swamp love. and I realised I live in a big fear of drawing naked Killian. therefore a shirt. again.

you might see I struggled with drawing a horse but I hope I hid it well!

He heard the song Gaston from Beauty and the Best and thought, yup, that checks out.

OKAY OKAY THIS IS MY FAVORITE

See, Colin has played a lot of murderers, so we have a WIDE assortment of Killer Colins floating through our inventory... I mean, Captain Hook had a definite body count, Dark Hook literally tried to half the town to hell and looked murderously evil the whole fucking time, right, and Hook even managed to look wicked and murdery and sexy whilst waiting in the library for Belle that one time. Peter in What Still Remains took out two dudes with such precision that you know those weren’t his first kills. We’ve got a LOT of Killer Colins.

BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There is one moment in JJ Sneed when I feel like Colin really nailed that Serial Killer vibe of “guy next door” one minute and “the last face you’ll ever see” the next. Because all of the most “prolific” serial killers have that vibe. They’re likable. They’re jovial. They’re friendly. You’d never suspect them of being depraved, soulless monsters until... oh shit, it’s too late.

So I’m going with THIS Colin here for Serial Killer Colin:

Five prompts combined = 500 words :D This little scene immediately came to mind when I saw your message and I rushed through this a bit so excuse any errors. 

I hope you like some angst with your whump lol

#14 “Let’s have some fun,” #21 safety, #56 begging, #73 brother, #85 “I’m okay”

Killian is not sorry he did it, but he didn’t intend to get caught. He can see the distress on Liam’s face, the disappointment, and the desperation as he can do nothing but watch as Killian faces his penalty.

“Let’s have some fun.”

Killian will deny to his dying breath the tremor that ran down his spine at the words, at the tone, at the purely evil grin that followed it which reveals how much enjoyment his punisher will get from this. Because Killian’s supposed to be brave. He can handle the pain. He can. (No, he can’t.) The agony of the whipping overwhelms him in moments, and his mind escapes to where his body cannot, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks. A lifetime later, or so it seems, it’s Liam’s voice that brings him back to himself. Liam’s hands on his face. Liam’s sturdy arms supporting him to safety when his knees wobble too badly to walk. His back is aflame, and in his thoughts, hazy with pain, he wonders if the lash is actually still falling on him.

“Please stop, I’m sorry, let me go, please just let me go, I’m sorry.” Killian is barely aware of the broken pleas still spilling frantically from his lips. He hadn’t taken half his punishment before he’d begun pleading for it to end, and though he hadn’t meant to break down like this, even now he can’t seem to be quiet.

“It’s over. Stop begging, Killian,” Liam demands, “Do you hear me? It’s over.”

Hearing that almost harsh tone from Liam snaps Killian out of it. He blinks a few times, stares at his own hands gripping the lapels of Liam’s coat tight enough his knuckles are white. He swallows, sucks in a breath sharply, and loosens the hold but doesn’t let go.

“There you are. Calm down now, it’s alright.”

Another shaky breath, and he forces himself to let go of his brother and lie on his stomach, the way Liam’s hands are coaxing him to do. Liam is gentle as he carefully tends to Killian’s wounds, muttering soothing nonsense whenever Killian gasps or winces in pain. It’s a gruelling process despite Liam’s cautious touch, and Killian’s drifting into unconsciousness by the time it’s done, eyelids fluttering as he fights to stay awake. Though Liam hasn’t told him to stay awake, Killian knows that’s what his brother would want. That’s what his brother would do. And Killian needs to be stronger, like Liam. His cheeks feel hot with embarrassment, suddenly, as he realizes how he sobbed like a baby in front of the crew. How cowardly he is. He fights harder against the lure of sleep and shifts a little so he can see Liam.

“I’m okay, Liam.” And damn the way his voice still trembles, giving away how weak the lashing has left him.

“No, you’re not,” Liam says tiredly, and he looks so sad as he brushes the hair back from Killian’s sweaty forehead, “but you will be.”

Well, my preferred friendship with these two is built on an imaginary version of the show where Rumple had a falling arc, instead of the confusing mish mash of redemption and continued villainy they gave him on the show where they tried to have their cake and eat it too. I’d have loved to see a friendship blossom between them where Killian is a safe space for Belle from the things Rumple did.  And he never says I told you so or anything like that, because he gets it. Additionally, I see Killian as a big reader.  One of my pet head canons is that he filled a good portion of his hold with books before leaving for Neverland (which I’m realizing now is predicated on my own personal time line for that period of his life that nobody knows but me and I apparently briefly forgot the actual time line... oops).  

Anyway, I see him as an avid reader, regardless.  And we know he speaks several languages.  So I think he and Belle could be delightfully nerdy together.  That they’d find in each other a sort of kindred spirit that they don’t really have with anyone else in Storybrooke or wherever.  Someone to discuss the deep intricacies of the universe with, and like talk philosophy and drama and poetry and whatever else strikes their fancy.  

Hello, my love! Thank you for the pairing. I know you’ve had some bad news today so here’s a little bit of angsty-ish hospital Captain Swan for you!

Cracks.Emma Swan/Killian Jones.196 words.

“Killian–” Fat tears roll down her cheeks and he aches to wipe them away. He doesn’t deserve them. He doesn’t deserve her. It had been a mistake to go after the Hydra on his own, and yet, foolishly, he’d gone anyway. Stupid. 

He’d reach for her if it weren’t for the damned sling cradling his once good arm tight to his body and the deep throb from his protesting ribs. He’d broken six in the fall, apparently.

“I’m fine, Love,” The smile he offers falls into a grimace as the thin hospital mattress shifts under his weight, sending pain shooting up his spine. It does nothing to convince her of his lie. Emma has always been able to read him, even after he’d convinced himself that no one would ever try. “I’m a survivor.”