black swan au

when you last left me my blood was in a jar | (1/1)

and you kept it on your mantlepiece

She must be doing something wrong that her son thinks the best way to go about proving his fairytale identity is to steal a sword. She must be doing something wrong to indulge this.

Given everything that Storybrooke and this storybook has thrown her way, it must be wrong that Killian being Captain Hook isn’t the worst option.

notes: love it when i’m just scrolling my dash, minding my own business, and a silly prompt shows up and my brain fires in the completely wrong direction where “MY KID SHOPLIFTED FROM YOUR STORE AND I MARCHED HER BACK HERE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU AU” becomes nearly 6k of a s1 cursed hook au. anyways, glad that i apparently still know how to put words on a page in something resembling a story, hope you enjoy!

also on ao3

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the sword?”

“It’s not a sword,” Henry grumbles. There’s no masking the disappointment of a ten year old child, and Henry’s mastered the pout. Emma’s not falling for it today. There’s letting him join her for a cup of hot cocoa at the diner when he’s already late for getting…to Regina. But letting him pocket a -

“What is it then?” Emma asks.

Henry simply says, “A replica of Excalibur.”

“The Knights of the Round Table that hard up for money? Franchising a magic sword?”

Henry shakes his head, in that way he does where he sees her sarcasm as something to power through rather than acknowledge. He’s remarkably good at that, too, because when he replies, “No. Emma, you were supposed to read the book,” she actually feels guilty.

“Yeah…yeah, I did. Refresh me though?”

Henry sees her for a liar, liar pants on fire, but he’s mature enough not to say it and Emma’s immature enough to near smile when she looks up at the telephone wire above them.

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On Jedi and Daemons (HDM chat)
  • silvergryphon: that coydog does need to be someone's daemon tho
  • themikeymonster: I was thinking Obi tbh, because I've been trying to shove a Coyote on him for a while
  • but she is so gorgeous and intelligent tho???
  • you would not be surprised if she started speaking
  • silvergryphon: Coyote for ObiWan, huh? That's an interesting idea. I agree she'd be gorgeous and clever and probably just as given to snide commentary as her person
  • silvergryphon: Anakin's is something loyal and devoted and extremely territorial.
  • silvergryphon: NGL my brain jumped first to 'swan'
  • themikeymonster: Yeah!!! Coyotes tend to be communal animals, and they're VERY clever and VERY fearless (even moreso when you get Coydogs, just as with Wolfdogs). She wouldn't be very fearsome at first until the feral side showed :>
  • themikeymonster: OMG
  • Can't swans break bones with their wings? or is that geese
  • I think it's swans
  • also they mate for life, right?
  • Amazing
  • silvergryphon: Swans will mess your shit up if you come near their babies, they can break human arms with their wings, and I believe they mate for life
  • silvergryphon: Also, some are gay
  • just gonna leave that out there
  • themikeymonster: excellent
  • silvergryphon: gay swan pairs will sometimes make a temporary threesome with a female to make eggs, then chase the female off
  • themikeymonster: OMFG
  • That's the most scandelous thing i've ever heard
  • im cackling
  • silvergryphon: I know right
  • specifically that's black swans
  • silvergryphon: ANAKIN'S DAEMON IS 100% a BLACK SWAN NOW
  • themikeymonster: yeah im affraid so
  • im laughing so hard rn
  • themikeymonster: Also I was having hilarious thoughts about before Ani settled, that Obi's Coy(whatever) would end up plucking Ani's daemon off the ground and carrying her off. That Ani's daemon might actually shift to something small to be carried.
  • themikeymonster: you know, when the kid is being unruly
  • silvergryphon: YES I LOVE IT

no listen if we’re doing this black swan au think Barbara Reynolds is absolutely the mom. She’s like feeding Dennis grapefruit and like being terrible. Frank circa the gang gets whacked is Tomas. Mac is the hot new uninhibited dancer from California and he takes Dennis to the rainbow instead of whatever club they go to in the Filme and he has a very aggressive dance style because he’s done years of karaté

The Swan King || Open

Enjolras stretched his right foot back behind him, then up, bending his back until his foot nearly touched the top of his head. Auditions for the Swan King was just beginning, and he watched some of the others with jealousy and uncertainty. He tried not to think about it while he stretched, bending his lithe body in ways normal people couldn’t bend them. He had been dancing since he was small, and wanted nothing more than to be perfect. He looked the part of the white King, his own temerity helped him along, but he lacked the passion of letting go. But how could he be that way when he’d been rigidly taught and raised up.


One more than himself.

The Dark Horizon: Chapter I

summary:  AU. The Caribbean, 1715: Royal Navy Lieutenant Killian Jones and his brother, Captain Liam Jones, have just arrived to help pacify the notorious “pirate’s republic” of New Providence. But they have dangerous allies, deadly enemies, and no idea what they’re getting into when they agree to hunt the pirate ship Blackbird and the mysterious Captain Swan. (OUAT/Black Sails.)
rating: M
status: WIP
available: and AO3
notes: You don’t need to have watched Black Sails to read this fic, although those characters will make appearances in supporting roles; it also won’t strictly follow the story of the show.  I’m rating this one M at the outset, and  there also will be violence, foul language, and etc., so you have been duly warned.  Captain Swan/Jewel Queen, Killian & Liam BROTP, Miranda/Flint. (I started a fic about the Jones brothers a long time ago with this title, but it got abandoned, so I’m reusing it.) This first chapter is for the Jones brothers sisterhood, @lenfaz, @prairiepirate, and @queen-mabs-revenge.

A great wall of dark blue cloud lay across the horizon as far as the eye could see, lit underneath with spurs of rose and gold, as if it was a gateway that would roll aside to reveal the path to paradise. The sea was as still as glass and the air nearly so, as yet retaining the lingering coolness of the night that would quickly turn into a tropical inferno. It was June, they having shipped out in April as soon as the spring weather turned favorable for the six-week Atlantic crossing, and if nothing else, Killian Jones had had a formidable respect for the Caribbean sun, and the Caribbean weather in general, quite literally beaten into him. It was perfect and calm now; in an hour there might be a tempest fit to wreck them; an hour more, and doldrums. They had been helped by the westerly trade winds in making their crossing ahead of schedule, due to arrive on the fifteenth of June and it being presently the thirteenth, but not without a hair-raising adventure or two. Thus, as opportune as things looked now for a triumphal landing, he’d just as soon wager on a torrential downpour right when they were trying to get the Governor off the ship. And that, knowing the Governor, would get them bloody blamed for it. No sailor and no man could control the weather, but damn if Lord Robert Gold didn’t think they should.

“Bosun reckons the depth at thirty fathoms,” the quartermaster said, startling him. “Fifteen miles offshore. Assuming a fair day and a bit of wind, we’ll be at St. John’s by noontime, sir.”

“Thank you, Roberts.” Killian turned away from the railing, nodding for the man to retire. He couldn’t stop himself from conducting one last inspection from bowsprit to stern chasers, just to be sure every line, shroud, spar, block, and beam was punctiliously in place and scrubbed to within an inch of its life. He couldn’t wait until this bloody voyage was over. Being elected to transport the new Governor of the Leeward Islands to the Royal Navy’s Caribbean base and home port in Antigua might look like an honor, but Killian was well aware of why they had been selected for the task. The previous governor had been murdered by rebel colonists less than five years ago, the provincial administration was run by corrupt embezzlers out to line their own pockets and barely able to defend from the constant French attempts to steal the islands back, piracy was running rampant from New Providence Island to the north, they had been at declared or undeclared war with Spain for most of the century and the peace was fragile, the exiled Catholic Stuarts were trying a rebellion against the newly crowned Elector of Hanover back in England, and the whole future of newly-minted Great Britain’s lucrative interests in the West Indies, if not possibly Great Britain itself, was at stake. Lord Robert Gold was exactly the sort of man, in Westminster’s thinking, to get a very firm grip on the situation, and it started at home. The Admiralty had suspected for a while that the HMS Imperator was failing to enforce proper codes of conduct and respect for the law, and if Gold detected any hint of laxity, he would trip over himself to file a damning report. Which would result in one, or both, of them being removed from the ship in disgrace to face court-martial and prison. Or worse.

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