#so its gonna take a damn lot from germ for me to find it satisfying lol

[ilynpilled]

sorry, i know you said you already said why but i cannot really find it, but why do you dislike jc double death?

this is gonna be short and fast sorry and also ig why i personally think it is not all that likely

1. jc delusion narratives are being deconstructed by the books. them dying together, as much as there is functional irony considering they cause each other’s death in some way (more directly or not lol), still cements aspects of it which works less well in my eyes. not moved by “womb to tomb” personally

2. do not like its impact on jaime’s individuation arc. not even redemption (again. ppl’s lives have meaning not their deaths. view a character holistically) whatever who cares wise but more-so ‘jaime is his own individual with an identity that is cemented as separate from his sister obviously now that he is out of his limbo state’

3. asos dream has cersei leave with the dead lans (tywin and joff and they go to the ancestors) with her flame before jaime who remains there w brienne w his own flaming sword. he is left in the dark with something terrifying and then gets his trauma packaged in long night imagery. jaime’s light going out sure but cersei says ‘as long as the flames burn ull live’ and brienne’s flame is giving light, and she essentially replaces the torch that cers was holding: ‘the only light in the cavern the only light in the world’. ofc all this is up to interpretation i just think there is deliberate open endedness

3. widow’s wail is in kl rn (plethora of shit there indicating that he will be the one to wield it lol. i mean who else? this is smn the show also confirms ig. he is gonna have to get that damn sword in his hand somehow) is he gonna go back and forth? how long is cers gonna live?

4. this is just a funny and silly issue bc i truly dgaf atp but like how is it gonna happen exactly? cersei stabs him at the same time? (silly to me. also not the point of valonqar imo from cersei’s angle esp) a rock falls on him after? he gets dragon fire nuked right after? he gets a heart attack at the same time? he kills himself? (alright this one is funny)

5. it could cut things short and make a lot of things/interactions i wanna see happen and imo been set up to happen not possible

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (21 of ?)

A OUAT WINTER WHUMP FIC

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!**********

***NEW!!!!!!! LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!! AAAAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

5 weeks ago...

“So… we’re really doing this?”

Emma and Killian were both red-eyed and exhausted, having spent most of the night fleshing out their plot and the remainder in the grip of anxious nightmares that weren’t fully driven away by the morning sun. Fresh off of an emotional farewell to their achingly oblivious daughter, it was no wonder that they battled second thoughts now.

Leaning against a tree trunk, his shirt unbuttoned down to the navel, Killian fidgeted with his hook. “I don’t see that we’ve many alternatives. The monster must be stopped; this may be our only chance. Even the bloody Crocodile thinks so.”

“You know we’re desperate when we start turning to him for opinions,” sighed Emma. Killian could only roll his eyes in agreement.

“Believe me, Swan; I’m well aware.”

“This is such an idiotic plan,” she groaned. “They’re all gonna kill us when they find out.”

“Well, by that time, the abductions will have stopped, so they’ll be obligated to thank us while killing us. There’s that, at least.” Killian smirked suggestively. “And if I’m going to be sharing the proverbial dog house with someone, I’m most pleased that it will be with you.”

Emma gave him an assessing once-over. “There’s generally not a lot of room in those things. Do you really think we could still…”

“Oh, most assuredly. Limited space is no obstacle for the determined. And you, lass, are the most determined of them all.”

Drawing closer, Emma ran her hand up his exposed chest hair, grinning. “Damn right.”

She tugged briefly and Killian pounced, trapping her in a tight embrace and locking his lips over hers. She pushed back, inching him backwards until he was sandwiched between her and the tree. They shared the kiss of the desperate, knowing it may be one of their last in a very long time.

Annoyingly, Rumplestiltskin popped up nearby only seconds--minutes?--into the kiss. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, but neither Killian nor Emma would allow him to dictate the length of their contact. And when they did break apart, it was only by inches. Face to face, they soaked in each other’s gazes, communicating wordlessly their love, their fears and promises. Emma broke the silence first.

“In case we don’t get another minute alone before you… go… just... I wanted to say…” Her voice wavered and she trailed off. Killian reached up to wipe away a tear from her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, sniffling. “Sorry. I… I don’t know if I can go through with this.”

“It’s okay, love,” he murmured, continuing to caress her face. He fixed her with his most earnest expression as he offered the words of encouragement that, in all honesty, he needed as much as she did. “I have faith in you, Emma. You can. And if you can… then so can I.”

She still looked stricken, devastated at the thought of what lay ahead. But somehow, she managed to compose herself, gathering the determined courage that Killian so loved in her, focusing on the practical, the present moment, what her husband needed from her right now. What she could give him… while he was there in front of her. Finally, after one more shaky, centering breath, Emma echoed the words she’d said to Henry all those years ago.

“I’ll miss the hell out of you.”

The corners of Killian’s mouth twitched and he gave thanks for her presence, both now and in the days to come. He may not always be in receipt of such direct support from her, but he knew he would never stop sensing her well-wishes, no matter what happened. “Likewise. But with any luck, we’ll immediately hear something useful, and you can come rescue me within the day.”

“You won’t be hearing anything unless we get this done,” Rumple broke in, and both Killian and Emma rolled their eyes in irritation.

“Would it kill you to wait a few minutes, Gold?” Emma growled.

“Not me. I could probably endure a moment more of your PDA. Not sure the same could be said of the Vocivore’s current victims, though. I can’t imagine they’d be thrilled about your groping each other while they're having their brains shriveled.”

As intentionally inflammatory as his statements were, they did bear a kernel of truth, and reluctantly, the couple pulled apart. Emma pivoted to face Rumple as she took Killian’s hand. Finally tearing his eyes from his wife’s face, Killian shot a cold look at his former foe. He caught sight of a plastic contraption, shaped like a pistol but bigger and with a longer barrel. Rumple held it up obligingly, and Killian raised a defiant eyebrow.

“That’s it, then?”

He managed to sound casual, scornful even, but his finely honed self-preservation instincts were jolting a warning: do not let that bastard anywhere near you with that bloody thing!

Rumple was wearing a bland smile. “As I mentioned, just a little something I picked up on my travels. May I?”

Killian nodded permission, trying to regain control of his pounding heart. Emma squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“It’s normally used to implant tracking devices in wild beasts, I’m told. I made some… slight modifications, to suit our needs.” He held up a small metallic shape, similar to a medicine capsule but thicker and longer, with sharply tapered ends. “Your transmitter. It has a battery life of 2 weeks but can recharge itself using the electrical energy of your body cells.”

“I’m not convinced you’ve handled it enough, Crocodile; why don’t you go ahead and give it a lick, for good measure?”

Rumple sneered. “Listen to that; the pirate’s up to speed on his germ theory.” He opened a hidden chamber in the back of the device and dropped the transmitter into the slot. After sliding the tiny door closed with a click, he waved his hand over the whole implant gun, presumably sterilizing the transmitter within. “Satisfied?”

Killian glared at the gun, not saying anything. But Emma cocked her head.

“Why not just use magic to implant it, too?”

Killian half expected the imp to say, Where would be the fun in that? Instead, Rumple explained,

“If this monster truly can influence magic, we wouldn't want him to be able to sense its presence, now would we? Magical insertion leaves a trace, no matter how carefully done. Best not take the chance.”

“More importantly, Swan, the number of times I've had his hand inside of me is more than enough for three lifetimes.”

Emma snorted a laugh, running her fingers along his arm soothingly. “What about healing it afterward? Wouldn’t that leave a trace as well?”

“It may, but the Vocivore won’t be able to discern what’s been magically healed. For all it knows, the pirate is simply clumsy and prone to injuring himself.” Rumple flashed a nasty grin. “Now then. Do you need to be sitting down for this? Wouldn't want you to pass out on me.”

“Just get on with it, Crocodile.”

The Dark One hefted the implant gun, pulled back on some sort of spring mechanism, and then waved vaguely toward Killian’s shoulder. “If you would be so kind…”

With a short-tempered huff, Killian disengaged his hand from Emma’s grip and pushed aside the gaping collar of his shirt to expose his left chest and shoulder. He patiently held the fabric in place in order to give a clear field for the procedure. Rumple produced an alcohol wipe out of thin air and scrubbed roughly at a patch of skin just below the collarbone as a wary Killian watched for any sign of duplicity. Using one hand to stretch the skin taut, Rumple positioned the gun at an angle, its specially-designed guard at the tip of the barrel guiding him as to the proper placement.

Killian wasn’t expecting a warning, and he didn’t get one either. A loud snap preceded what felt like a very hard and focused punch to the area, then a sharp, hot lance of pain immediately followed. It spread into a bright throb as startled nerves scrambled to react. A tightening of his jaw and a slow breath were Killian’s only concession to the discomfort; he certainly didn’t want to give Rumplestiltskin the satisfaction of a wince, not if he could help it.

The absurd image of a cartoon he’d watched with Hope flashed into his mind: a dog is guarding a sleeping bear and keeps injuring himself, but in order to avoid waking the bear, he runs miles away before letting loose with a torrent of reactionary howls. Not that this relatively minor pain merited such an extreme response… but Killian was grateful for the brief distraction all the same.

Rumple pulled the gun away and exposed a dark hole with a diameter somewhat larger than a pencil. A faint, diagonal purple line tapered in the direction of the shoulder joint. Milliseconds later, blood welled from the puncture and dripped down Killian’s chest. The first of many droplets to be shed, came the morbid thought unbidden. Emma spread her fingers, obviously intent on healing the small wound, but the Dark One stopped her.

“I wouldn’t. Not yet.”

Gingerly, Killian pressed a finger over the hole and raised an annoyed eyebrow. With strained patience, Rumple explained,

“We haven't tested it yet. We need to make sure no… adjustments are necessary.”

As Killian massaged the ache, he could feel an irritating shift of the foreign object embedded in his flesh. Emma lowered her hand, impatient.

“Okay… ready when you are.”

Rumple stepped back calmly, addressing Killian with his usual aloofness. “We’ll need to travel to a distance equivalent to that which separates Storybrooke and the monster’s lair, to be sure we can hear clearly through the transmitter. So keep talking, Captain. Impress us with your… nautical knowledge, or something.”

The pair of magic users vanished in an abrupt swirl of smoke, leaving Killian alone among the trees. With a roguish smirk that was entirely wasted on the empty forest, he began to speak.

“It’s a damn shame, the fate of the Wish Realm’s Dark One. That can’t have been a pleasant way to go. Still, one could make a very strong argument for why he deserved it.” He allowed a pair of heartbeats to elapse, then added, “Swan, I’m not entirely sure I haven’t gotten the tales mixed up with all the time that’s gone by. If I remember correctly, both Crocodiles had their own brand of suffering to endure, but was it this version or the other who--”

As anticipated, Emma winked back into existence just in front of him, her arms crossed and a look of staged exasperation on her face. “You know you can’t get into that, right? He can’t know that stuff until he experiences it for himself.”

Killian winked at her. “Oh, but darling, wouldn’t it be loads more fun to give him just a hint of what awaits him in his future?”

“You wanna risk changing something, go right ahead.” She reached forward and gently pulled his hand away from the irritated flesh of his shoulder. “He needs you to stop rubbing at it. It’s making it hard to do the sound check.”

Ignoring the small amount of blood dribbling from the puncture, Killian scoffed.

“What’s that, love? I’m making what hard by rubbing?”

Emma simply rolled her eyes and poofed back to wherever Rumple was. Killian took a moment’s pleasure in imagining the sour frown that had hopefully crossed the Dark One’s face as he listened; otherwise, what was the point of winding him up? Sighing, Killian tucked his thumb into his belt and then, in the driest monotone he could summon, he began to list crew and cargo capacities for every type of ship in the Royal Navy.

His two companions were back in short order; without the threat of punishment hanging over their heads for failing to learn all of the details, they must have found the trivia to be mind-numbingly boring. Killian raised an eyebrow at his wife.

“Well?”

She answered by resting her hand over the streak of blood near his collarbone. As she sealed the break in the skin--this time without the protests of a disinterested Rumple--she confirmed,

“It seems to be working. For the next five minutes, I could tell you how many standard-sized crates fit in the hold of a schooner. Just don’t ask me after ten.”

The majority of the pain had vanished with the puncture wound, and no visible trace remained to mark the presence of the implant. But Killian could still feel a strange hardness within his shoulder, the smallest hint of inflammation where tissues were compressed by the new metallic structure trapped inside.

“I may have failed to mention: it won’t transmit across realms,” the Dark One pointed out. “So best not fall through any portals along the way.”

Emma adjusted her husband’s shirt, not bothering to do up any buttons, and Killian’s own emotions were reflected in her eyes. In a way, the success of Rumple’s device felt like some kind of death knell. One final obstacle to the plan surmounted; they were out of practicality-based excuses, and it was now down to courage alone.

Going for nonchalant--Rumple was watching, after all--Killian caught Emma’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze.

“Well then, love. I’ll see you back in Storybrooke.”

She mimicked his act. “Yep. Sheriff station, right?”

“Aye.”

He pulled her close for one more quick embrace. Then Emma produced her magic bean, tossed it toward an empty patch of forest floor, and disappeared through the resulting portal without looking back.

Perhaps she feared, as he did, that any hesitation would cause their tenuous resolve to come crumbling down around their ears.