#jack was god's usurper

[shallowseeker]

Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.

[theboarsbride]

Been binge watching Disney’s Gargoyles and heehee au featuring Sophie, Edgar, Jack, Claude, amd Lowell as a gargoyle clan and Temperance, Selene, and Apollo being the humans that work to keep ‘em safe and secret🤭🤓

[shallowstories]

The story of the chicken and the black snake

NOTES FOR LATER:

1. Fun substitution stories: It bears a lot of similarities to the story of Zeus and the stone substitution. Zeus was supposed to be killed soas not to challenge ranking deity, who kept eating and damning any and all rival gods to his cosmic belly. Cosmic kings eat their rivals and their children in order to grow in power. The goal is to damn them to food, to becoming sources OF power, not challenges TO power.

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2. Ineffective usurper God narratives: Cas tried to muster up "godly/creative" power by following the footsteps of cosmic paidophagy. By swallowing the Purgatorial souls and Leviathans, he became the black snake, and like all aggressive gods that try to entomb power by consuming others' children, he would arouse the mother's anger and fail.

The devilishly clever mother, knowing the usurper God is not efficiently boundless as she is, and is not strong enough Void, plants and incites a battle from within. This deception is typically wrought by enticing the predator to swallow poison (or a stone or a hardboiled egg), or by imbuing the children with secret strength to allow them to violently burst forth and overpower their father. So it was with Primordial Eve, hiding her her "bomb" from within, that would tear the inefficient God asunder.

Ergo, the Leviathans are the egg, Eve/Tiamat is the chicken, and Cas was the black snake in whose corpse the hidden children would feast upon. God overcome.

It's a cheeky reference to what Yahweh/or other culture hero god did to them, exploding and feasting upon the bodies of Leviathan as world nourishment to "create the world." Castiel's sundering is symbolically "Zeus as ineffective container" (or "Kronos as ineffective container"), bursting forth in an extremely violent reversal of Yahweh's original Leviathan victory. Cas can rouse chaos. But as "Heaven/Sky only," he cannot contain it.

This is because Cas is not a creator god, so in order to Wield Power of God, he must be facilitated by joining forces with Earth or other allies (Sam, Dean, Meg; later, Kelly Kline) in order to Complete the Circle. (When Cas turns his back on allies of Hell and Crowley, he effectively dooms himself.)

Cas "Heaven" cannot complete the circle "crown" alone. It is the Love and Healing, not War-making, that allows a more complete joining with his allies. (Image by LLA).

Interestingly, SPN 12x19 The Future (above GIF) is full of circle motifs because Jack is emerging into the Universe.

Jack, on the other hand, is much, much fuzzier in terms of his abilities. He's so strong that he embodies Both Modes (Earth AND Heaven, Human AND Angel). Jack is vast and boundless; Cas is not and never has been. That's why Jack is able to become God, but Cas is one-half-of-God/needing-allies, or else an ineffective solitary "culture hero" locked in eternal narrative of warfare without any real gains.

Castiel is more effective when he shares power/burdens and joins forces with his human family. (This manifests as, "support me and stand behind me 100%" VS "fight alongside me and don't be afraid to air your disagreements." It also manifests in the hiding of key details of the fights in order to "spare" them the burden of war's ugliness.)

Unfortunately, he tends to reach to share power with fellow angels on high, like Lucifer and Chuck, and that just leads to more of the same, ineffective "bright" wars. Ironically, it is his failing to share burdens (with his own rebel angels, Crowley, sometimes even Sam and Dean) that cause his most extreme losses.

Hell, Heaven, and Earth are most powerful when linked together; and they are weakest when ripped apart. Still, that isn't enough on its own, because they need to be linked together in peace, not isolation and aggression. (This is why Heaven, Earth, and Hell do not overcome Amara. Only choosing peace and reconciliation does. And yet, even that reconciliation is incomplete, because the light and the dark become too isolated from Heaven and Earth, cascading down into Lucifer's heartbreak and Dean's loss of Heaven in season 13's speech, "You said the earth would be fine, but it's not.")

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3. Cas as culture hero: We see more power struggles at play in season 15 when Cas returns to Purgatory, where Leviathan corpses are again linked to blossoming of godly power, specifically the power to take down God (reference to the Classic Chaoskampf). Corpses of Leviathan are symbolic of Yawheh's (El's) original victory.

In Supernatural, the Leviathan were defeated/banished by the uniting of Cas and Dean against them. This is why their reconciliation is a key component of defeating God. United, perhaps they can take down God. It's why in 15x09 The Trap's deleted scene/alternate future/victory, they arrive marching in tandem, with the specter of the Double Diamond casino representing their combined pragmaticism. (However, as with all war, even when you WIN, you LOSE.)

Another interesting thing about Purgatory, though, is that Tiamat/Eve does not appear to be hunting down Dean. She's hunting down Cas, for "killing her Alphas and predatorially swallowing [her children]." Cas is characterized within the landscape as "Bright" and "Orderly," the eternal threat to her chaotic children.

Cas's characteristics of being Awake and bringing both Narrative and Meaning to The Empty also make him an eternal threat to the Cosmic Void, the Shadow. Cas imposes Limits/Order/Rebellion on the boundless forces, but he is independent enough to be flexible (unlike Death/Billie/Dean who swung too close to Order at the end of the series). These qualities liken Cas to Order and Disorder, "the spanner in the works," and he functions as The Great Escapist, which likens him more closely to the culture hero. (Which is why to so many astute viewers, Cas feels like not just A Main Character, but The Main Character.) In bringing Cas to such high highs (Superman, puppet God, angelic warrior) and such low lows (object of ridicule and scorn and emasculation), and such a wise middle of the road (renewed faith and values, finding strength IN weakness), they've accidentally transformed him to true protagonist.

Ergo with respect to Eve/Tiamat and The Empty/Void, Castiel IS the real cosmic culture hero. (Sam and Dean are culture heroes in their own right, but of Earth, so they can be heroes when aided by God/Heaven/"Equalizer" favors).

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Jack is triparted God, the same as he represents Sam and Dean and Cas. He's also the egg and the chicken and the snake.

But when you try to be all things, as Dean tried to be all things (re: his conversation with Mary in season 12), you effectively became nothing. "It's not fair!"

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Me, on a new date: Hey, have you ever thought about the fact that there are plenty of planets where "the Doctor" doesn't refer to the Time Lord carrying around the sonic screwdriver, but rather to the young women who swing through their lives and ask their names and demand answers and sacrifice themselves, to the young men who start off unsure and second-fiddle but bring a kindness, a loyalty, with them and end up finding their own voices and their own purpose? Do you ever think about the role that myth plays in Doctor Who, how so many companion exits and finales take on the role of storytelling, about how companions become gods and immortals and walk the entire dystopian earth and wait two thousand years and be the cause of every Cyberman's single tear and wrench the Doctor back into the universe and carry the story off of screen with them, that they birth myths in their wake, that Doctor Who finales so often leave science-fiction behind them and become mythology itself, when these humans insert themselves into the mythology of the Doctor only to usurp him, that they make themselves the Bad Wolf and Orpheus and the Woman Who Walked the Earth and the Doctor Donna and the Last Centurion and the Girl Who Saw the Stars and most of all, they become the Doctor themself, that the Doctor's story goes nowhere if Rose doesn't save him on Satellite Five or Amy doesn't pull him back into existence or Martha doesn't walk the entire hell-earth to restore him or Clara doesn't make him forget her or Jack doesn't sacrifice himself to stop the Daleks or Bill doesn't carry him away from the Cybermen or Donna doesn't stop him from drowning himself with the Racnoss or Yaz doesn't pilot the TARDIS or River Song sacrifices herself at the library or Sarah Jane and Mickey don't help restore the earth back to its place in the sky and that the Doctor is only a myth with so many stories to their name because their companions make it so-

My date, sliding the breadsticks out of their purse back onto the table, hopelessly intrigued: Go on...

[stirringwinds]

Your thoughts on Alfreds similarity to Arthur, their dynamic and their father-son relationshio is incredible and so very enjoyable! The way Arthur sees Alfred; his hyperindependent son who rejects his fathers ideas and uplifts his own ambitions, not understanding that while his own ambition and view of the world is not completely identical to his fathers, it's a mirror image in scale and vigour. It is the same old tale of the prince beheading the king, taking the crown and vowing to never become his father, only to come full circle and have his enemies tell him "you're just like him."

Alfred may be the "black sheep" of the family, but not even Arthur can hide his favoritism for the lad. His firstborn is more like him than anyone of his children, and that bears pride, yet fear as well.

Im just trying to say that if you had a million fans, I am one of them, if you had one fan, its me, if you had zero fans im dead. <3

thank you so much! (: in return, i have to say how much i love your art, especially of the pacific siblings + the old man. you bring them to life really beautifully.

and yes! i just love the excellent contradictions that come out when digging into arthur and alfred as a father-and-son dynamic. i enjoy putting a twist on the usual tropes of the 'black sheep' and 'golden boy/crown prince', where it's often two different siblings. here, out of the 🇺🇸🇨🇦🇦🇺🇳🇿 siblings, alfred is the black sheep and the crown prince. he is the estranged eldest brother who seemingly does whatever the hell he wants. he overshadows them all even in his absence. like, for Jack and Zee especially, it's not a flattering picture of Alfred they get from Arthur. Ungrateful wretch, fool of a lad, hotheaded and arrogant, a flash in the pan...etc etc. but even quite young, before WWI or WWII, they realise that Alfred is the only one of them Arthur truly sees as anything close to an equal. that contrast is sharpened by how Arthur treats Matt—who was the 'older brother' they actually knew: the otherwise competent shocktroop of empire and first dominion shouldering various responsibilities. to defy Arthur is to earn his enmity, but also the only way to earn his respect.

like most other nations who become empires—Arthur doesn't truly believe in heirs: the sun never sets on the british empire, no? and when you are an eldritch being given life by the power of human ideas, immortality is a possibility they can't help aspiring to, no matter how much history is littered with the rise and fall of nations once arrogant enough to believe themselves invincible. and Arthur, at the height of British power, allows himself to believe that. for all his shrewdness and study of history, he's not immune to being seduced by that possibility. why shouldn't his empire be different? driven by the power of industrial civilisation that Rome could never dream of. Arthur never wanted Alfred to be his heir because he would never relinquish power willingly (just as the British Empire did not give itself up until the combined weight of world war two, anti-colonial movements and bankruptcy broke its back), but with his defiance, Alfred is the only kind of heir he would respect.

It is the same old tale of the prince beheading the king, taking the crown and vowing to never become his father, only to come full circle and have his enemies tell him "you're just like him."

indeed! i always see a real Titanomachy theme between Arthur and Alfred for that reason; the British and American empires certainly loved to perceive themselves as heirs to classical antiquity after all. the Greek story of the war between the younger generation of Olympian gods and Titans to determine who would have dominion over the universe. Zeus, with his siblings, overthrows his father Cronus— in a manner of speaking, that is what happens with WWII. Alfred is both Arthur's deliverance (lend lease, d-day...) and the one who usurps him: America replacing Britain's prime role in the Pacific, reshaping and redefining alliances with Australia, New Zealand and Canada. in the eyes of many of the Old World nations, Alfred is his father's heir. to end off, here's a short snippet from a WIP i'm working on set during the American Civil War:

Arthur laughs. “Do I make you do anything anymore, Alfred? Didn't you throw away my name almost a century ago? Did you not loudly announce yourself as a maritime power? That huge uproar you created in the Far East? Bragging to me how you’d done what I failed, dragging another Old World nation out of isolation to rejoin the international community on the threat of war and glories of foreign commerce?” Alfred opens his mouth—to say something self-righteous and hypocritical, Arthur is certain—but then he lifts his chin coolly. “As opposed to the actual war you started in China? If anything, with the Treaty of Kanagawa, I proved how one could secure foreign trading interests with both firmness but far more civilisation. You and I," Alfred sneers, “are not the same.” “An unequal treaty is an unequal treaty— that I will not deny even if I will not give up its benefits. This world is not for soft men or women, and the old warlord that Yao is—he knows that well.” Arthur smiles sharply. “Do you hate the fact that when the other Old World nations look at you, they see my blood running in your veins?"

Arthur imo, is definitely that father who plays favourites. Alfred is his greatest disappointment but also the one he loves the most—in the dysfunctional way that a man who is an empire comes closest to loving the son who mirrors him the most in his pitiless ambition and cunning. Alfred sees himself as a genuine idealist, as someone struggling to be free of his father and all his bad traits, but when Alfred rises to power, Arthur believes he's the only one who truly understands him the most. It's almost the possessive element of 'I gave you life, I named you and made you what you are, and no matter how much you scorn my name, my influence will define you forever.' Father and son, king and crown prince, regicide and patricide—but also creator and his creation made in his image.

[bestworstcase]

i know i’m cranky about fanon allusion readings literally all the time but i NEED people to actually read the marvelous land of oz. please. for the love of fuck.

the wizard leaves oz forever, leaving the scarecrow to rule in his stead. general jinjur usurps the wizard and spends most of the book occupying the conquered emerald city in search of the royal crown. ozma is cursed to live as a boy; he is accompanied by jack pumpkinhead, his creation/“son” who spends much of the book fretting about his own death—his head, a pumpkin, is doomed to rot—and both are guided by the scarecrow. the woggle bug is both cursed and blessed by knowledge learned from a professor who irrevocably transformed him. glinda is searching for ozma and she chases the bad sorceress mombi to the ends of oz to bring her to account and force her to tell the truth and relinquish her power not just over ozma but by extension all of oz. the tin man has become a vain emperor. there is no dorothy; she’s in kansas.

the allusion is extraordinarily straightforward. it screams off the page. mombi is the god of light; ozma is ozma/tippetarius, ozpin is the wizard, oscar is the pumpkinhead (HIS COLOR IS ORANGE. PLEASE–), qrow is the scarecrow, ironwood is the tin man, leo is the soldier with green whiskers who lets the rebels into the emerald city out of cowardice, raven is the woggle-bug burdened by knowledge (and the only one who can use the silver wishing pill to transport everyone back home, which is to say she knows the truth about summer and i firmly believe still has that bond), summer is general jinjur searching for the crown, and salem is glinda.

(glynda goodwitch is a red herring. she’s purple—the good witch of the north, named glynda perhaps as a nod to the popular conflation of these two separate characters into one and chiefly to misdirect away from the real glinda—most ancient and formidable sorceress in all the world, whose color is red.)

it’s ✨simple✨

[dominickeating-source]

Star Trek Magazine Issue #113 (2004)

TRUE BRIT

It's not often you see Brits playing action heroes on US TV, but Englishman Dominic Keating not only gets to wave the Union Jack in Star Trek: Enterprise ,but he also gets to kick alien backside as the show's heroic tactical officer, Malcolm Reed. And with the current season featuring even more action and adventure, the actor reveals to Ian Spelling whether he's enjoying putting the right royal boot into the Xindi...

Dominic Keating was not a major proponent of making changes to Star Trek: Enterprise. He believed that the show was warping along just fine and didn't need the MACOs, the Delphic Expanse, a sexed-up T'Pol (Jolene Blalock) or a name change. He said as much, on the record, while the changes were still in the rumour phase, and again when they were first implemented at the beginning of Season Three. Even now, despite the fact that he appreciates some of the tinkering, he still sounds fairly unconvinced about the necessity to meddle.

"I didn't think we were turning out a bad product," Keating says. "I've watched all of the episodes we've done religiously and I thought that given the constrictions of episodic television, we were turning out a pretty good show. I thought the show was entertaining, well crafted and well acted. And it looked good. Having said that, I can't argue about the last nine or 10 episodes, through the first half of the third season, haven't been better. They have been - perhaps better than the [previous] good ones. So they've really raised the bar from what I felt was a pretty elevated bar already.

I'm not sure what the fan reaction to the changes has really been. My contact with the fans, other than meeting them at conventions, is pretty limited. I do know that the episodes we did a few weeks ago, Similitude , was our highest rated episode since last year. It got a 3.0 national and a 5.0 perfect score, which is pretty big. Millions of people watched that show, and that's a good sign. We only ever get a 2.0, so it tells us that people right in the heart of America liked that show. That's a considerable uptick."

The changes have certainly impacted on Keating directly, with his character, Malcolm Reed, having a lot more to do in the conflict with the Xindi. There's also a nice bit of tension building between Reed and the military force, the MACOs, based on the ship. They usurp his power as the Enterprise NX-01's tactical officer, and trouble seems to be brewing between Reed and the MACO leader, Major Hayes (Steven Culp).

"I'm getting to run around a lot more since we got started in the changes," Keating says. "I've got to jump and duck considerably more. There's a lot more action for me. And I guess that I'm in the show more than I was during the first season and most of the second season. The thing I liked about the first two seasons, in retrospect, was that I got a bone thrown at me at least once or twice a year, with a good solid episode that was just Reed, or with Reed as the A-story. That hasn't happened yet this year and I don't know if it will. I'm not ruling it out, but it seems that the accent is much more on this arc apropos the Xindi, and the race to get them before they get to Earth. And I don't know if there's particularly time in the timeline for a character-driven Reed episode. We'll see. You never know. 

"But just from watching the show, I do like the MACOs," he continues. "I think they are a good addition. I was not sure about it initially, to be honest. I thought it could be a bit hackneyed, but I think they've been well introduced and assimilated in to the show. I think when they are brought online, they add a really good dose of salt and pepper to the action sequences. Where I can look quite athletic and jump and run, I'm not about to break my neck in the process. Most of the MACO guys are our stuntmen, and they'll happily do somersaults over railings all day long. God bless them.

"I can't give too much away, but we're shooting an episode right now with [director] David Livingston at the helm again, and the episode brings to the fore the friction that was first alluded to between Reed and Major Hayes. We'd dropped that conflict for a while, because Reed seemed to be accepting the need for MACOs and the [show's] powers-that-be wanted the characters on the same page. But in this episode, finally the bubble bursts and all hell breaks loose, and Reed and Hayes have a massive fight. It's good stuff."

Shooting not just that fight, but other interactions between Reed and Major Hayes has meant that Keating has spent a good deal of time in the company of Culp. And to hear Keating tell it, he's got no complaints about doing so. "Steven is great," the actor notes. "I actually met Steven while doing a radio play for KCRW about four years ago, think it was. Richard Dreyfus was in it as well. It was a play about one of the generals during the American Civil War, and Steven and I met doing it. And we kept in touch. We also happen to go to the same gym together. So we sort of saw each other over the years and then it was just terrific that he was brought on board to play Hayes on the show. He's great on the show. He's just a very, very hard working actor. He's just come fresh off The West Wing and he was going on to do ER . He'd done a couple of episodes of Lyon's Den, the Rob Lowe show, and he's just a very happening actor around town at the moment.

Not to dwell on the negative, but Keating acknowledges that the Enterprise set was a bit of a gloomy place mid-way through Season Two. The ratings were down. Various magazines were devoting cover stories about ways in which the show could be saved. And several of the actors, Keating among them, worried about their job status.

There were a few weeks, I have to say, where there was the spectre that Star Trek may be in the grasp...in the vagaries of episodic telly, and that we might get cancelled or at least not renewed, just like any other show," he notes. "Scott [Bakula] shook all of our hands the other night and said '66'. I wasn't sure what he meant. I was thinking bingo. He said, 'Episode 66, pal in he can. That's something to be proud of, especially I this day and age, when most shows don't last three days.'

"And it's true," Keating nods. "He's right. I noticed they dropped Tarzan after, what, maybe five episodes? And I know that Skin was cancelled after just three episodes. Skin was a good TV show. It was a modern-day reworking of the Romeo and Juliet story and it was well done. They had some good actors in there, starting with Ron Silver, And it's terrible that nobody is giving anything a chance."

Keating cracks up when asked if Bakula is more often than not the cheerleader on the Enterprise set, the guy who lifts everyone's spirits when they require lifting. "It certainly isn't John Billingsley!" he jokes. "No, I'm kidding. I'm the worrywart. I'm the one who rings up on Thursday morning to see what the ratings were like the night before. I don't know if everyone realises that, but they must because I'm always the one taking command of the fax. "I guess I'm also the cheerleader. I like our show, I really do. I like what we're doing. Scott's much more of the mind that, 'We can only do what we do, and leave it at that.' Connor [Trinneer] is kind of that way, too. I don't know if it's a good thing, but I guess I am [the cheerleader]. You want some sort of stability inside this very dodgy framework, in this business. It's not easy to hold on to. There's just not a lot of time to celebrate the good news. After the ratings came out for Similitude , I went up to Scott and said, 'Great job.' I rang Connor and said, 'Fantastic show, mate. You didn't miss a beat. Really great job.' I don't know that everyone else does that kind of thing. [Director of photography] Marvin Rush tends to come up to you and say, ' I saw yesterday's dailies. That scene with you and Connor is fantastic. You're going to love it.' Marvin watches the show religiously. He sees the dailies and he TiVos the episodes."

Getting into the specifics of Season Three, Keating reiterates his earlier point that while it's true that there's not been a Reed-centric episode per se, Reed's been an active force in several shows. "I've quite enjoyed most of what I've gotten to do this season," he notes. "As I say, I haven't had the big bone thrown at me. But I've been a very good supporting actor this year, if I can say that myself, when I've been called upon to support scenes or do B-lines. I've done a lot of B-lines this season. And I'm happy to be in that place.

"I've been working more hours than the first couple of seasons, but I still get a bit of time out and can do the shopping and get the laundry done and so on. God knows, I think about the rest of the cast and crew, and unless you're married I don't know how you run your life. I really don't. They work 70 to 80 hours a week and the weekend has got to be spent doing laundry, going shopping, then sleeping on Sunday, and it's back to work on Monday. It's pretty gruelling for 10 months a year.

"People who do sitcoms, they have the easiest job in town, mate," Keating laughs. "Once you get down to doing a show in front of a live audience, that's pretty fun. Once you've done it two or three times, then you don't mind the audience. I did a sitcom in England. I did five or six years of sitcom. I'd been in front of a couple of cameras before, but when you're in front of five cameras and 500 people...I was sweating bullets that first time. But once you've done it a few times, it's actually quite enjoyable. Hour-long episodes, that's hard. Matthew Perry just did The West Wing and he said it was quite an awakening for him after having done Friends for so long."

But back to Reed and this season of Enterprise. Keating agrees to offer up some more detail about the episode that finds him butting heads and going mano to mano with Major Hayes. "I think it's going to be called Harbinger ,' " the actor says. "It's going to be for the February sweeps. [Co-executive producer] Manny Coto wrote it. He also wrote Similitude , and I think this one is going to be just as good. He's a really, really welcome addition to the team. I can tell he just loves writing Star Trek . He throws so many balls into the air and then deftly flourishes it into a big ball, with a bow at the end.

"In Harbinger, the Captain suggests that the MACOs give us the benefit of their advanced combat training, and that really gets up my nose. I'm pressed-ganged by the Captain into accepting the Major's proposal, which Hayes had gone behind my back to Archer with, and when the Major tries to figure out the logistics of this training and how it's going to be conducted, I really let him have it. 

"Beyond that episode, I have no idea what's coming up. I get asked 'What's coming up?' a lot and I wish I could answer it whenever somebody asks it. We haven't got a clue. I have no idea. I would imagine that we are going to fight the Xindi for the rest of this season. Whether they decide to take the storyline through to the next season, I don't know. But I have a feeling that the mission is quite important. I think a sense of purpose has got to be introduced. You either stick with the Xindi or you introduce a new mission next season and we go on that arc."

"However, I think just reverting back to episodic, one-hour complete stories won't work at this juncture," he continues. "When I look around at shows like Alias and 24 ,these big shows that seem to be garnering so much attention, they're episodic and you could watch one episode, but its much, much more fun and more meaningful if you're following the story. That seems to be what audiences like at the moment.

"I've got ideas, but I don't want to bug [executive producer] Brannon Braga too much, to be honest." Keating adds as the conversation comes to an end. "He's got enough on his plate without actors ringing up and going, 'What about my character?' So we'll just see. But if I were going to ring Brannon, the only thing I would say was, 'You might flesh him out a bit.' I just don't know if there's time, as I say, in this timeline the show is on right now. I don't know that Reed having a love interest of whatever description or an episode that got into his backstory and added some emotional depth, can happen at the moment. I don't know that there's time. They want to do that story with Trip, and they're really pushing the Trip-T'Pol storyline.

I have to think privately, to myself, ' I'm an English actor on an American TV show and I ain't done too badly,' I'm an English actor not playing the captain on an American TV show, so I'm quite happy with what they give me. You've got to come back down to basics in the end, and that's one of the basics, that I'm a British actor on an American show. And the cheques clear!"

DIRECT CONTROL

Dominic Keating will direct Star Trek: Enterprise one of these days. That's been a goal of his from the get-go. He took a course at the Los Angeles film school and he's been shadowing director's on the Enterprise set. Unfortunately, his plan has taken a little bit of a back seat this season. 

"That's only because I've had so many more hours spent in front of the camera rather than time out to look behind the camera," says Keating, who hopes to write and direct a short film based on a story Scott Bakula told him about his son, Will. "I had some time out. I had a week at one point, but I was sick. I wanted to shadow Robbie McNeill and spend some time in the edit suite, but I got the damn flu and I spent five days banged up here in bed. It was the worst flu I've had in....forever. But directing is still a plan of action, and whenever I'm even just working on set I'm always earwigging the conversations between the director and Marvin Rush and watching the compilation of a shot. Then when I look at the shows themselves, part of me is watching the show and watching performance, but 65-70 per cent of me is watching how it's framed, how it's cut and how it's jig-sawed together.

"I actually did do an episode of a local [Los Angeles public access] show called The Heartbreak Kid ,and it was pretty damn good. Given the strictures of amateur production, it was actually not bad at all. I would do it again in a heartbeat. And I do hope to direct Enterprise eventually."

Source: www.dominickeating.com

[supernatant]

I’m camp Let Jack Be A Kid, not to infantilise him but because he never had a childhood. I mean he literally grew up too fast. I don’t even mean de-age him or de-God him, just let him have a damn break and do kid stuff outside of nuking God and usurping his place in the universe.

In fact, let everyone have a break. Basically nobody on this show had a childhood and it shows.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of short ones today!

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

LOVE AZURID SO MUCH SO THANK YOU FOR DRAWING THEM IN ONE OF MY FAVORITE SCENES OF THEM IN CHAPTER 6

HEHEHE YOU’RE VERY WELCOME their relationship really blossomed in ch6, this entire interaction was very funny. I’m glad you liked the sketch!

Anonymous asked:

i always imagine rookvil is a Thing in any scenario but now i’m wondering. do ortho and rook silently beef over vil, or are they currently collaborating on a threesome as we speak? or do they go back and forth with him like a pair of divorced parents sending their kid to the other every week? 😭

It always depends on a scenario, I think. In general, I agree that no matter the ship, RookVil is always a Thing at least in some capacity. It’s just way too obvious to write it off completely. So in Ortho/Vil or Jack/Vil or Rook/Epel, chances are, RookVil is still either happening at the same time or happened at some point or has a potential to happen. That being said, we just don’t always focus on this side of the story, because it’s not always about this ship.

So once again, depends on a scenario! Sometimes it’s just Vil and Ortho, and sometimes OruVil and RookVil happen at the same time. And if the latter is the case, I think they wouldn’t have a beef, but instead a collaboration or a very playful friendly rivalry. Rook and Ortho actually have a lot in common… they’re so open-minded, but also so possessive and obsessive lol with both of them being able to watch their beloved person 24/7, notice the tiniest things about them and all this stuff. Both of them would probably recognise that it’s better for them to be friends and to love Vil together. Would that be a safer option for the world? Probably… hopefully…

Anonymous asked:

ceo jade. ceo. jade. CEO JADE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my god, did he take Kalim’s place?? Usurper!!

And it’s always that one person that you expected the least… shaking my head…

You missed your chance, Jamil.

[downwiththeficness]

The Usurper-Chapter Nineteen

Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.

Word Count: ~8,000

Disclaimer: I do not consent to this work being copied or posted to other sites of blogs.

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“Read ‘em and weep,” Lilah crowed. She set the cards down on the desk, grinning at Javier’s disappointed face. “That’s three in a row.”

He squinted down at her pairs of nines and fives,”You’re cheating.”

She laughed, “I wish. I’m just getting good hands. Besides, you’re the one who dealt this time.”

Javier made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat while he gathered up the cards and organized them into a neat little stack. After tapping the deck on the desk a few times, he handed them over to Lilah, “Your deal.”

“Thank you,” Lilah said primly, taking the cards from him. While she shuffled, Javier turned his wrist over to check his watch. It was a nice watch, not as flashy as a Rolex, but the gold was real and there were tasteful diamond accents around the face. Lilah wasn’t much in the jewelry business, at least not for the purpose of fencing later. There were too many ways to track anything worth selling. She wasn’t immune to taking something for herself, though.

“How long ‘til I get kicked out of here?” she asked. Lilah managed to keep from looking at the throne sitting in her periphery. It sat in the same spot as the one she’d burned, looming large and ugly.

He glanced at her in a way that was almost a censure, “Not long. They’ll be coming to the holding room soon.”

Amaru was finally satisfied with the place where she would host her court. ‘Not long’ from now, she’d sit on that God awful throne to hear grievances. Lilah didn’t understand why Amaru was even bothering with it. She’d shown absolutely no interest in the culebras, outside of using them for barbaric rituals or as tools to mitigate her anger. If they were fighting among themselves, Lilah had the feeling Amaru was more likely to turn it into a cage match than attempt to troubleshoot the problem. The cavern wouldn’t be a very good place for that kind of thing. Its shining floors and smooth, rounded walls were too pretty to paint with blood. The stream of water cutting the room in half would make things interesting, though. Lilah didn’t know if culebras could drown, but that might not stop some from trying.

She dealt the cards, “You think they’ll actually show up?”

Javier chuckled and gave reluctant nod, “They’ll come.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. Months in close quarters, arguing over the rations with more hungry mouths arriving every few days. This is their opportunity to have someone they know is more powerful than they are make a decision that is absolute and final.”

She checked her cards and set two down on the desk. While she dealt herself the replacements she said, “I thought they liked living in close quarters. Nests, and all that. How many do you want?”

“Just one,” Javier answered and set a card down, “Its instinctual for them to live in nests for safety. They’re still people, and people don’t always get along.”

“You’ve got a point.”

He nodded and put down his hand, “Pair of kings.”

Lilah smiled, “Jack shit. Look at you! You won a hand.”

“About time,” Javier grumbled and began to gather up the cards again. He started to shuffle them when the holding room door opened.

Lilah turned to look over her shoulder, finding Brasa striding towards them. He was wearing his leather. Sunglasses, too. Brasa was Amaru’s man again and wasn’t that just perfect. She could only look at him a second or two before she had to turn away.

Javier, knowing that game was over, put the cards back into the box. He slid it over to Lilah and stood, “I assume she’s on her way.”

“You assume correctly,” Brasa replied. He walked up to Lilah and dropped a kiss to the top of her head, “She’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“Wonderful,” Javier said in voice that rang with dread.

Brasa put his hands on his hips and looked towards the back of the room, “They’re already lined up all the way to the elevator.”

Javier tossed Lilah a knowing look, “Excellent. We’re fully stocked, so I don’t anticipate any scrapes.”

“Good, good,” Brasa replied, distracted.

Lilah pocketed the cards and rose, “I guess I’ll head out.”

Brasa snapped to attention, “Where are you going?”

She pointed to the door leading into the back hall, “Away from here.”

He shook his head, “No. I need you to stay.”

She really didn’t want to do that. “No, that’s okay,” Lilah waved him off. “I’m not in the mood for this kind of show. I’ll just go to my little room and veg with some terrible, terrible TV.”

Brasa grasped her shoulders, “I would really like for you to stay. It’ll be good for everyone to see you.”

Lilah was reminded of another, more violent ceremony where she was supposed to be seen, “Last time, you didn’t want me anywhere near a group of culebras.”

He almost smiled, “You’re stronger now. I think you can handle it.”

She was stronger. Much stronger. Since the night of the burlesque show, Brasa had given Lilah his blood three times. Each infusion left her giddy for hours afterward, laying on the bed next to Brasa while power ran a slow path through her veins. Brasa coached her through it, helping her to relax into something that was becoming less and less unnatural to Lilah. She now knew how to pace herself so that her stomach didn’t slosh around when she moved.

There were other changes that took longer to catch her attention. Lilah’s normal eight hours of sleep were now reduced to six and she rarely felt hunger. The low lighting in the halls didn’t seem to bother her as much now that Lilah could find her way pretty easily. She hadn’t yet tested out the limits of her stamina, but she guessed that she might be able to run more than a few miles without dropping dead—she hadn’t been able to do that since high school.

Brasa’s expression was so earnest that Lilah had to relent, “Alright. But, I’m standing in the back and I want some alcohol to take the edge off.”

“Done.” He turned to Javier, “Would you mind bringing Lilah a drink?”

“Of course,” Javier said. Then, to Lilah, “Margarita?”

She smiled and pointed a finger at him, “Got it in one.”

He went off to the bar to fill her order, leaving Brasa and Lilah alone. Brasa leaned a hip against the desk and passed his hand over his eyes. Lilah thought he looked a little tired and said as much.

Brasa’s smile was brittle, “I’ve been saving my rations so that we’ll have enough to keep them calm.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

He shrugged, “A week.”

“A week?!”

“Its fine,” Brasa replied, “I can go much longer.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re hungry. You need to eat.”

His mouth pulled up into an amused smile, “I’ve been told that bondmates sometimes nag each other when they begin to feel comfortable in the relationship. Is that what this is?”

Lilah swatted at him, “Don’t call me a nag. You’re supposed to be keeping that mob under control. You can’t do that if you’re starving.”

Brasa caught her hand and pulled her into his chest, “If we have some blood leftover after this, I promise to eat. Does that satisfy you?”

Her lips thinned, “Barely.”

His reply was cut off when the door to the holding room swung open and Amaru marched in. She was wearing a cerulean cotton dress with a high slit up one side. A brown leather harness was strapped over both shoulders and a knife with a golden hilt rested against the middle of her chest. She looked like a badass and, by the confidence in her step, she knew it. Lilah might have appreciated Amaru’s sense of style if she didn’t hate her so much.

“They’re pacing like animals back there.”

Brasa straightened and moved to stand in front of Lilah, “Its the excitement of being able to speak to you.”

Amaru rolled her eyes, “I can already feel my IQ dropping.”

Lilah bit down on her tongue to keep from making a snide comment. Amaru was in for a rude awakening if she thought treating the culebras with disdain would earn her the right to rule them. Javier was right—people were people. They could only be beaten down for so long before they began to fight back, damn the consequences. Lilah supposed that Amaru didn’t care if she had the right or not—she was stronger than they were and, with Brasa at her side, ousting her from power would be incredibly difficult.

Javier walked through the door at the back of the room, holding a glass. Lilah, seeing her opportunity to get some distance from Amaru, made her way across the bridge towards him. “You’re an angel,” she murmured, taking the drink.

He chuckled, “That’s the first time I’ve heard of it.”

Between sips, Lilah leaned against the back wall, “You’ve brought me the only tool that might help me get through this stupid thing. That makes you an angel.” She took another drink, “I don’t understand why I need to be here.”

Javier moved to stand next to her and crossed his arms, “Brasa thinks Amaru is close to finding the book she’s looking for.”

Her hands tightened around the glass, “How close?”

“We’ve narrowed down the location to a collector near the border. Brasa has sent some of our more friendly staff to negotiate a deal with Mr. Lyle.” He paused, “I suggested we simply take it from him, but Brasa doesn’t want to draw any more attention than we have to.”

Lilah smirked, “Negotiating with him will also drag out the process of getting the book back here for Amaru to use.”

Javier nodded, “If she gets the book and accomplishes the thing that she wants to accomplish, you’ll need to be recognized for who you are.”

This puzzled her, “Who I am?”

Another nod, “Bondmate to Amaru’s right hand.”

Lilah blinked at him, a denial resting on her tongue. She tucked it back down her throat where it belonged. Javier wasn’t trying to blow smoke. Facts were facts and Lilah needed to get used to them. That didn’t stop her from changing the subject, “He says he hasn’t eaten in a week. Can we get him something for after?”

Javier’s brows lifted, “Its been longer than that.”

“How long?”

“A month. Maybe more.”

She let out a soft curse, angry that Brasa would lie to her. It was a stupid lie, but it was still a lie. Underneath the initial anger there lay another, softer anger. Lilah meant it when she said that Brasa couldn’t hope to control his people if he was starving. More than that, she didn’t like the idea of him being hungry. Especially after she’d taken what little blood he might have so many times.

Amaru called Javier’s attention and gave some kind of hand signal. He pushed from the wall and sent Lilah one last glance. She couldn’t totally understand what he meant to say, but it felt a little bit like a warning. Then, he went to the door and opened it. The noise from the outer room got louder. Voices talking over one another until they were a dull drone of sounds.

Standing to the side, Javier guided a long line of people into the room, giving instructions along the way. Do not cross the bridge. One petitioner at a time. No fighting. Bow when you approach your queen. Her decisions are final. No fighting. You will be provided a meal as you leave. If you are staff, you’ll be allowed to the front of the line. No fighting.

Pressing into the rock at her back, Lilah took them in. They looked just like they had before, if dressed a little better. Most of them were wearing slacks and button up shirts in various colors and patterns. A few were in dresses. Lilah noted that their bodies were clean and there was a faint scent of perfume wafting in the air. She might think Amaru passing judgment from her throne was a dumb idea, but the culebras seemed to be taking it seriously.

The line kept moving, filling the back of the room until almost everyone stood shoulder to shoulder. Lilah was allowed a large circle of space. It wasn’t clear to her if that meant they were afraid of her or just they just didn’t want to be near any human. In either case, it worked out for her. She didn’t want to find out if the warnings she’d been getting about the culebras’ volatility was true.

Amaru took her place on the throne, looking over her court with a critical eye. Brasa surprised Lilah by moving off to the side, far enough away that he stood in near complete shadow. There, he folded his hands behind his back and observed the room with a neutral expression. Javier strode past Lilah and worked his way through the crowd until he stood on the bridge. It seemed like the whole room sensed that all the major players were in place and that they were about to begin. The vague murmur that had been constant since Javier opened the door fell into silent anticipation. He pulled a small tablet from his pocket and tapped his finger against it to wake up the device.

Lilah allowed her attention to stray away from Javier’s booming voice while he called out names. One by one, they approached the throne and bowed before beginning to speak. Amaru’s questions were terse and fast, words spitting from her down-turned mouth before the petitioner finished their answer. Inevitably, she would refuse their request and wave them away with an irritable swipe of her hand. Dejected, they walked back into the crowd. Lilah felt a pang of sympathy. She knew how humiliated they must feel. She also knew that it wouldn’t get any better if Amaru got her way.

Maybe Brasa would let Lilah make a road trip up North. If she could steal the book before Brasa’s staff finished negotiating, Lilah could destroy it so Amaru couldn’t use the tome to complete her plan. If it was like the book beneath her bed and couldn’t be destroyed, Lilah would hide it away somewhere Amaru would never find it. A book was easy to hide, she thought, and Lilah knew a lot of good hiding places.

A loud yelp drew her from her thoughts. By the throne, Amaru stood over a man with a thunderous expression on her face. Lilah couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the tone sounded like disdain. Like hatred. Amaru could hear it, too. Her mouth screwed up into a snarl and one of her booted feet kicked out, sending the man flying into the water. A gasp ran through the crowd and several of them stepped forward. Lilah worried that Amaru had pushed them over the edge and that there would be real bloodshed.

Fortunately, Javier moved quickly to calm them, saying, “Remember your place. Remember who made you.”

That seemed to stop the room from erupting into violence, but Lilah could hear the grumbles of the people around her. The air was filled with gasoline and the slightest spark would set off the fire. Even though the cavern was massive, it was also crowded with only two exits.

It was fear that made Lilah move towards the door. She wanted to be as close to an escape route as possible. As she moved, Lilah kept watching for danger. The kicked man climbed out of the water and shook it from his hair. Lilah stared at him while she held her breath. Another man tried to speak with him, but he was pushed away roughly. The crowd parted to let the kicked man pass, most of them looked back and forth between him and Amaru. Lilah was looking, too.

She’d resumed her position on the throne, chin up, eyes narrow. Lilah knew a challenge when she saw one. Amaru wanted the fight. She wanted someone—anyone—to stand up and try something. Would she use the little knife to cut them open? Or, would she use her hands? Lilah was so focused on the slight woman sitting across the room that she didn’t even notice that she was in the direct path of danger.

The man, still dripping, was stomping his way to the door. Lilah couldn’t get out of the way fast enough and he slammed right into her. Knocked off balance, Lilah dropped her drink and fell into the wall. Lilah cringed with embarrassment. The sound of the shattering glass turned every head in the room, including Brasa’s. He was suddenly moving, leaping over the water with a low growl. Lilah had just enough time to push his intended victim towards the door and put herself in Brasa’s path. She caught him in her arms, relieved when he returned the embrace instead of shoving past her.

“Hey now,” she said, “I’m fine. Its fine. We’re all fine.”

Brasa looked unconvinced. His brows were dropped low and his mouth was twisted in anger. She could see the points of his fangs peeking out from between his lips. The eyes behind his glasses were glowing red and focused over Lilah’s right shoulder. In the lens, she could see the man he intended to hurt backing away slowly. The temperature of Brasa’s body was fire hot and rising. His frame was trembling with restraint that didn’t look like it was going to hold much longer. Lilah had to do something, and quick.

Leaning into him, Lilah cupped his jaw in both of her hands, saying, “Look at me.”

The words weren’t much more than a whisper, but Brasa obeyed. The anger on his face softened marginally and Lilah felt a little hope that she had averted a crisis. That hope was squashed when his eyes flicked up and over, tracking movement. The muscles of his shoulders tensed beneath her palms as he prepared to pounce.

Lilah kissed him. It was a completely spontaneous move on her part. She can tell she’d set him back on his heels by the way his body stiffened in her grasp, but that didn’t stop her. Brasa quickly caught what she was throwing at him and his arms wrapped around her to pull her close. The kiss isn’t exactly passionate. Just two mouth pressed firmly together. She hopes its enough to distract him, to divert him away from tearing the guy apart for the sin of running into her. Still, knowing that its just a distraction doesn’t stop the shiver that runs along her skin.

Brasa pulled away first, leaning his forehead against hers. Lilah laid her hands gently along his jawline and counted his breaths. One at a time, each more deep than the last. While she was sure the man who ran into her had taken the opportunity to turn tail and run, Lilah was also sure that Brasa could and possibly would hunt him down. For now, however, he seemed content to remain where he was. She rubbed her thumbs over his cheekbones, letting him hold her for as long as he needed.

Against her hands, Brasa’s jaw clenched. She can feel that his skin had cooled somewhat, but Lilah sensed that they weren’t out of danger yet. Step by step, Lilah walked them backwards at a slow, swaying pace until they were standing against the wall. Brasa went with her easily, head dipping down for more kisses. He was really good at it—kissing. Just the right amount of pressure with an uncanny ability to find the perfect angle. He teased her with a soft slide of skin against skin, then drew along the seam of her lips with his tongue. Before Lilah knew what she was doing, her body was arching forward to meet him and her throat was filling with a low, pleased moan.

It startled her how quickly she was swept away by him—startled her enough that she broke the kiss. The woman in the reflection of his glasses was flustered and breathing hard. Her expression was half wild and her eyes were flashing with desire. Lilah barely recognized herself, but she couldn’t look away.

Brasa’s chest rumbled with a barely audible laugh the only very thinly veiled an ardent, yet comfortable, want. She narrowed her eyes at him while one of her hands drifted down to his chin. She ran the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip. It was still wet from her kiss. And, soft. Very soft. Brasa’s mouth opened slightly and she felt his tongue dab at her skin.

Eyes focused on Brasa’s lips, Lilah turned her thumb to the side a little and pushed it into his mouth just far enough that the tip rested against the point of his teeth. Up close, she could see a dual set of fangs. It was the first of many differences between Xibalbans and Culebras. Lilah knew they were sharp, but that didn’t stop her from gasping as a little bead of red bloomed from the cut.

Brasa’s hand snapped up to wrap around her wrist. The hold was just this side of painful and it sent an ache up her forearm. Lilah didn’t mind much. She was more focused on the way Brasa’s face went lax and how his mouth closed over her thumb with gentle suction. He released a breath through his nose, the tail end touched with a noise of hunger. His tongue wrapped around her thumb, swiping away the blood so that he could swallow it down. Lilah’s gaze followed the motion of his throat, mouth parting around a soundless whimper.

He released her thumb and pushed her against the wall, kissing her hard. Every breath was scented with him and she could feel nothing but his body against hers. It overwhelmed her, made her breathless and dizzy. Nothing existed outside the circle of his arms and the slow tingle of venom that worked its way into her hand.

The arm still around her waist tightened and lifted to put her onto her toes, forcing her to let him hold most of her weight. Blood was trickling in a thin stream down her thumb to pool in her palm. It was warm and faintly sticky. In another few seconds, it would soak the cuff of her shirt.

Lilah tried to pull her wrist out of his grip so that she could catch her balance. She needed to find an anchor—anything to keep her grounded against her own desire. Brasa denied her. If anything, his arms hoisted her higher. He pulled away so that he could lick a hot path from her palm upwards, cleaning her skin with an eager hum. Heat pooled low while Lilah followed the rolling muscle of his tongue on her skin.

Just as he was about to kiss her again, Brasa froze. There was no motion from him, not even breath moving in and out of his lungs. The lines of his shoulders and neck tightened and his lips peeled back from his teeth. Lilah, too, stood still. What did he know that she didn’t? She almost opened her mouth to ask him, but closed it when Brasa let out a vicious growl. She’d never heard anything make that kind of sound before. The kind of sound that carried dangerous power. The kind of sound that made brave men shit their pants. It rolled out from him like a physical thing, making its way towards the others in the room. She glanced around, finding several taking steps backwards.

Right, she thought, Blood in the water. They weren’t at a bar or safely ensconced in their room. They were standing in the middle of a couple dozen predators who were already dancing on the edge of a knife.

Brasa turned and scanned the room, still growling. The culebras closest to them took another step or two back. He waited a few very tense seconds before moving to the side and leaning against the wall with crossed arms. Most everyone began to pretend like they were minding their own business after that.

Amaru, who hadn’t seemed to notice her second in command’s distraction, soon got tired of petitioners and she marched from the room in much the same way as she marched into it. Petulant. Childlike. Annoyed. Javier was gracious enough to herd the culebras back into the holding room. More than one gave her a long look on the way out. Lilah remained by Brasa’s side, picking at her thumb. The wound was already healing, just a pinky-red scratch.

Definitely stronger, she thought.

Javier returned, “Just sent the last of them up the elevator.”

Brasa took his glasses off and rubbed at his face, “Were they fed?”

“Yes,” Javier replied, “We had just enough to feed all of them.”

“Speaking of feeding,” Lilah cut in, remembering what Javier told her. “You lied to me, mister.”

Brasa’s hand paused about an inch from his face, “What?”

“You told me,” she pointed a finger at him, “that it had been a week. Five minutes later, Javier tells me its been a month!”

Brasa cut his eyes to Javier, who was already holding up his hands in defense. “I didn’t know it was a secret,” he said before backing out of the room.

Lilah crossed her arms, “Well?”

Sighing, Brasa lowered his hand and said, “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you thought lying to me was the best course of action? Brasa, we have been through this.”

Over and over, they’d been through this. Lilah was so tired of calling him out on the things he didn’t tell her. Especially things that were as important as literal starvation.

“I know,” he said, and he sounded like a child while he said it.

Lilah sighed, looking out across the room. The throne is still sitting there, glittering and gaudy. She could still see Amaru sitting there, could still see her kicking that man at her feet. Her gaze slid over to Brasa, wondering how often Amaru kicked him when she was angry.

“You need to eat,” she said, eventually.

Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets, “I’ll wait for the next shipment. You heard Javier, the supplies are empty.”

She had heard Javier, “You still need to eat.”

“I’ll have to hunt.” Something about her expression must have shown her distaste because he made an exasperated sound, “That’s how I eat, Lilah. Or, did you forget.”

“I didn’t forget,” she shot back.

There were other ways, though, other methods of getting him fed. How hard was it to break into a blood bank? She thought she could get in and out clean, if she had a week to plan. Javier would have to let her get on the net and she might need to stop by a store to make an ID card or two. She could get it done, though. She could make it happen.

Lilah felt something stir around inside her that she recognized. It was the same anxiety she got in the last thirty minutes before the end of a job, right when everything could go straight to hell. All the variables that she couldn’t control reared their ugly heads.

She had to move, do something to expend the energy. Her feet carried her across the bridge and past the throne. “I don’t have enough time to prep, but if you’ll get me into the city, I’ll go be the local blood bank and snatch a few bags. You might have to bribe a few officers to look the other way, though.”

Brasa pushed from the wall with a smile, “No. I can wait until the next shipment. Besides, it would be inconvenient to have to break you out of jail.”

She ignored the implication that she would get caught, “When is the next shipment?”

“Six weeks.”

Lilah turned, “Six weeks? Six weeks? Its already been a month.”

His shoulders lifted in a careless shrug, “I’m old, Lilah. I don’t need to eat as often as they do.”

“That’s not the point. You’re hungry and you should be able to eat.” She didn’t know why she was pushing this so hard. He seemed perfectly fine—except for the way he lunged for her hand earlier. Lilah shivered with the memory of his mouth moving over her palm.

Brasa’s expression was just short of smug, “I like that you’re so concerned about me.”

Lilah’s derisive scoff was completely undermined by the way her lips spread into a smile, “Let’s just stay on subject.”

He stepped forward and took her hands, “Believe me. I’m fine. Can we just go back to our room and relax? Its been a tough night.”

“Fine.”

She turned and started walking, aware of Brasa following closely behind her. A living shadow. Lilah tried not to think about the way she could feel his eyes on her the whole way down the hall. In the bedroom, she went straight for the liquor. Quick hands poured two fingers of whiskey. Lilah sighed and held the glass aloft, starting at it. The amber liquid sloshed as her fingers turned the glass. Her thumb rested snugly around the rim, the cut shining. It looked days old. Didn’t even hurt, anymore. Stronger, stronger, stronger.

Her head cocked to the side and the question was out of her mouth before she could stop it, “What if I gave it to you?”

Brasa flinched and his eyes narrowed, “What?”

She tried to be casual about it, “You need to eat and there’s nothing left. What if I gave it to you?”

“You’re serious?”

She couldn’t blame him for the suspicion in his tone. Lilah took a drink, “Yeah.”

Brasa looked at her a beat or two longer, then shrugged out of his coat. He tossed it over the dresser, “Alright.”

What the fuck are you doing? Lilah screamed at herself.

This was more than just a cut on her thumb, more than catching her tongue on his teeth. Lilah was offering to let him drink from her directly. What could she possibly be thinking to make an offer like that? She couldn’t go through with it—had to take it back, somehow. Suddenly, Lilah couldn’t hold on to the affectation that this was something casual. She drained what was in her glass and poured another while she tried to come up with some way to back out that wouldn’t make her look like an asshole.

“I have a condition,” Lilah announced, stepping away from him and padding over to the bed where she sat. It was a long shot, but she thought she might have a way to get him to refuse.

“Name it.”

Lilah steeled herself, “Take off the gloves.”

Brasa blinked and, for a second, Lilah thought she’d succeeded. The possibility was supposed to reassure her, and it did. It also left her disappointed. Which was so confusing. She ignored her confusion, choosing instead to stare at him while she waited for his answer.

His shoulders pulled back and he said a single word, “Done.”

Lilah covered her exhale by draining her glass again. She wished she’d brought the bottle. Watching Brasa tug off his gloves finger by finger was doing funny things to her stomach and it made Lilah want to back away slowly. Lifting her chin in false bravado, she said, “Where do you want it from?”

He lifted his brows at her, “You’re giving me a choice?”

“Um,” she mumbled, “Yes?”

Brasa smiled, teeth flashing, and Lilah had the vague notion that she shouldn’t have agreed. Too late, now. She was committed. He pulled off his glasses and tossed them onto his coat. His gloves landed next to them with a soft thump. A few steps brought him close enough that he was standing over her. Lilah stared up at him, feeling very small. Brasa dropped to a knee and his hand hovered over her inner thigh, “Here. I want it from here.”

Femoral artery, Lilah thought absently. Throat tight, she nodded. Why was she nodding? Is this what she wanted? Brasa’s smile widened, “Slide up. It will be easier for you if you’re lying down.”

Mechanically, Lilah moved to obey. Side to side she wiggled, until she was laying more or less in the middle of the bed. On the way, she kicked off her shoes. Belatedly, Lilah realized that she was wearing jeans and that she would have to take them off for him to reach her thigh. She fumbled with the button and fly, nervous fingers pushing at the denim. Brasa helped her along, pulling the jeans down her legs until he could get them off.

Resting on her elbows, Lilah resisted the vulnerability of being half naked. It was both easy and incredibly difficult. Easy because every move he made was so confident that Lilah felt like she could absorb some of that confidence for herself. Difficult because he was looking at her like she was the center of his entire universe. Again.

The first touch of his hands was a shock of heat and skin. Lilah held her breath as he traced up the outside of her calves and skimmed her knees to rest on her thighs. Here, he waited. Her attention flicked back and forth from his hands to his face. The black of his iris had spread to encompass the entire eye. His hands remained where they were while he gazed down at her silently. Lilah swallowed, waiting for him to say something.

He did. Eventually. In a voice that scraped the back of of his throat, Brasa rumbled, “You need to make room for me.”

“Oh,” she said. “right.”

Feeling stupid, Lilah let her hips fall open to accommodate his impossibly broad shoulders. Brasa dropped to his belly and hooked her thigh into the crook of his elbow. Black eyes glanced up at her, “Ready?”

Lilah nodded even though she was not ready. Her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs, but she refused to look away. She wanted to see this. Brasa’s dark head bowed over her skin. Lilah could feel the ambient heat of his breath before his lips kissed softly. Even that small touch felt at odds with the sharp rise in arousal building in her body. Lilah bit down on the inside of her cheek and gripped the comforter below to keep herself still. Then, his teeth were sinking into her flesh, leaving Lilah hissing towards the ceiling.

It hurt. She should have expected it to hurt, but she hadn’t. The pain surprised Lilah enough that she cried out before she could cut off the sound. Brasa rubbed a soothing hand over her stomach, applying subtle pressure to remind her not to move. She breathed through the pain, focusing on relaxing the tense muscles of her hips and thighs so that she didn’t strangle him.

Brasa made a soft, chuffing sound that drew her attention. His head was turned, mouth scalding hot against her skin. He drank slowly. Every swallow was methodical, not a drop wasted. Just like he taught her to do. His eyes were closed, but she could see how his lashes fluttered against his cheeks. He had such pretty lashes. Long and curling upwards in a way that no amount of makeup could accomplish. In between sips, there were hums and rasping growls that rumbled from his chest.

Drawn by the clear evidence of his pleasure, Lilah reached down and rested her hand on the back of his head. She scratched gently at his scalp in an attempt to convey...something. The confusion and apprehension about what they were doing hadn’t dissipated, but there was something new hiding in the tangled mass of her feelings. He was feeding off her, drinking her blood, and she wasn’t disgusted by it. Or afraid. Even her semi-constant resentment about how they got to this very moment seemed to have dissipated. Laying there, with her hand in his hair and his mouth working against her thigh, Lilah gave in to the jagged desire that had been there since the moment she saw him standing in that church.

Brasa leaned into her hand and squeezed her thigh. She caught the ruddy pink of his tongue sliding between his lips to catch an errant drop. It swirled around his bite, heat and pain rolling in its wake. The heat kept growing, moving in either direction up and down her leg. Lilah felt her skin prickle with it, felt her nerves perking up to take notice. The further away it got from where Brasa’s mouth was latched onto her, the less like heat it became.

It was more like a tingle, now. Like the feeling of being slowly dipped in a glass of carbonated soda. Little bubbles that felt almost like kisses. The word ‘venom’ whispered across her mind, along with the reminder that she’d felt something like it in his kiss before. Except, this wasn’t a kiss, wasn’t like catching a drop or two in a cut. Brasa’s venom was being pumped steadily into her blood with every second he drank from her.

Lilah struggled to keep her breaths calm while her body flushed and her heart thumped a heavy rhythm. Her vision threatened to blur. There was a ringing in her ears. Adrenaline pooled low in her belly, bringing with it a kind of focus that made her hyper aware of Brasa’s mouth sucking at her thigh. She could feel the way her hips strained inwards on either side, held open by the unforgiving breadth of his shoulders. Arousal pooled in her chest, then her belly, then lower down.

She croaked his name and Brasa’s eyes opened to look at her. Huge and black and shining, the sight of them made her wonder what he was seeing. Lilah was sure that she looked like she felt—flushed and sweaty. Not exactly an attractive picture. The buzz in her body rushed along every vein, leaving her incapable of caring. It anchored her into her body, refused to let her push away the sizzle of sensation that worked its way into her core.

Her arm gave out beneath her, forcing her to clutch at the sheets for purchase. The hand on her belly stretched wide, pushing down when her hips wanted to lift. Lilah exhaled loudly, her inhale equally as loud and twice as unsteady. The bubbles had reached her chest and were working their way over her throat and up into her brain. They scrambled her thoughts until speaking words was impossible. All she could do was lay there while she panted and whimpered.

Brasa let go of the bite. He was breathing as hard as she was, little puffs of air touching her wound and soothing the fresh pain somewhat. He laid his cheek against her thigh while his hands moved over her skin in slow circles, inflaming her already soaring senses. Lilah snatched the one from her stomach and held onto tight. If she let go for even one instant, Lilah thought she might levitate right up to the ceiling.

A dark shadow rose up into her vision, Brasa’s face wavering into view. His brow was creased with worry. She wanted to run a finger over the little patch of skin to smooth it, but moving was not going to be an option for a while longer. Lilah even didn’t think she could speak, leaving her staring at him in weighty silence.

His mouth was pink and wet. It parted while he ran his eyes all over her face and body, skimming the curve of her breasts and down to where her hips were splayed open. Lilah followed the path of his tongue across his lips, staring unabashedly with an expression that was touched with pride.

The tide of her arousal soared higher, lighting nerves from her head down to her toes. Lilah squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth against it. She’d given up trying to control her breaths or the sounds she was making. Nothing mattered but riding wave after wave of the venom while it rushed through every corner of her body.

Brasa loosened the death grip she had on his hand and she felt him move to lay next to her. With effort, Lilah turned her head to look at him. She needed guidance. Needed him to tell her how to deal with the insanity she was feeling.

He seemed to recognize that need, saying, “It doesn’t last long. Maybe another minute or two.”

Lilah wasn’t going to last another minute, let alone two. She was already moaning constantly and squeezing her legs together to put pressure on the ache between her thighs. Blindly, she reached for him, letting Brasa support her through the motion of rolling to her side. One hand gripped the collar of his shirt while the other tugged him down for a kiss. Lilah poured every bit of the need she was feeling into it, uncaring that she could taste the copper of her own blood on her tongue.

Brasa matched her passion, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling so that there was no space between them. His body was molten, heat billowing from every pore until the whole room was thick with it. The palm of his hand caressed down her spine and over her hips, flexing into the muscle of her ass to pull her more firmly against him. He took her mouth with kiss after kiss, stealing the breath from her lungs and stoking the fire of her want ever higher.

It wasn’t close enough. Lilah wanted to melt completely into Brasa until there was no way to separate the two of them. She wanted to make him feel the same way she was feeling now. All shaky need and fierce, dripping desire. Lilah swung a leg over his body, tilting her hips forward into the hardening length of his cock. Around her, Brasa shuddered. He broke the kiss and buried his face into her neck with a loud, desperate moan that was followed by the ragged call of her name. Encouraged, Lilah anchored her thigh and began working her hips against him in a slow, firm rhythm.

Gasping, Brasa sucked a wet kiss to Lilah’s neck while he moved in time with her. He rasped words she barely understood, telling her how good she tasted, how he wanted it whenever she would give it to him. Lilah was too far gone to respond. The only thing she could think about was how to assuage the intense burn in her belly. Just a little more. A little more. Almost... If he touched her, it would be enough to take her where she wanted to go.

She must have said some of that out loud because Brasa was nodding along. “I’ll get you there,” he said while he worked a hand between them. He barely got his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear, barely swiped them over her swollen clit, when the first contractions began.

Lilah bowed forward with a harsh grunt. The pulse of her orgasm was hard, almost painful. It grabbed at the core of her and yanked downward. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All there was for Lilah was blinding, all encompassing pleasure. When Brasa’s fingers swirled over her soaking folds, she finally found her voice. Lilah cried out his name, took a breath, and then nearly yelled a wordless moan. She rolled into him, bearing down on his fingers until he didn’t have any room to move. Brasa made a soft sound and curled his hand over the curve of her mound so that she could ride the pressure until it was over.

Mouth dry, eyes bleary, Lilah slowly relaxed. She felt somehow distant from the wild, disheveled, satiated woman lying on the bed. It couldn’t be her tilting her head back to allow Brasa more room to nuzzle at her throat. Nor could it be her shivering as he grazed his fingers lightly over her fluttering pussy. He kissed her slowly and Lilah had to admit that it was, indeed, her. She was definitely the woman slowly coming down from an orgasm so good it was fucking ridiculous and it was definitely her tugging at his shirt to pull it loose from his pants.

Lilah held the button of his slacks between her thumb and forefinger and looked up at Brasa. ‘Yes, yes’ he said between kisses. As if to emphasize the point, he pushed his hips forward into her hands. Lilah’s mouth pulled up into a devious smile while she opened his fly and reached down to palm him. She hadn’t really considered that he might not be like other men, that being Xibalban meant more than just a sharp set of fangs. He certainly felt normal enough. Heavy and thick, leaking a little from the bulbous head. She gave an experimental stroke, thumbing over the tip and smearing precome. Brasa breathed raggedly, the hand between her legs lifting to hold himself steady on her hip. His wet fingers squeezed and she heard him swallow hard.

She let him go briefly so that she could push his clothes out of the way and get him on his back. Brasa whined a soft, needy sound, but went where she directed. Lilah rewarded him for his patience with a deep kiss and a long, slow caress. He caught her motion quickly, hips lifting to push his cock through the circle of her fist. Lilah followed the direction his body gave her. She learned that he liked firm pressure and that the head was incredibly sensitive. Running her thumb over the slit earned a choked moan that sent little shivers down her spine.

His body grew tense with the rise of his pleasure and his head fell back against the pillow, exposing the long line of his throat. She bit her lip, inordinately pleased at how quickly he melted into her touch. Lilah leaned down to lick over the taut muscle of his neck. His skin was sweet and touched with salt. Brasa’s chin lifted to give her more room and Lilah rewarded him with more kisses to scorching hot flesh. She veered off to the side, teeth scraping behind his ear. Brasa huffed a surprised groan and his movements became disjointed. He jerked his hips up hard a few times and then he was spilling over her fingers. Lilah smirked at his helpless little moans and the way he relaxed into the mattress afterwards.

He recovered far too quickly, giving her a soft, sweet kiss before grabbing a towel from the bathroom and wiping them both clean. Lilah let him examine the bite on her thigh, her chest warming with faint embarrassment at the contented little grin he wore while he prodded gently at a wound that was already closed.

The room was quiet. There wasn’t much to say that couldn’t be conveyed with a soft look or touch. Lazy and tired, she snuggled under the covers while Brasa turned on the TV to her favorite channel. He exchanged his wrinkled shirt and slacks for a soft pair of sweats and a t shirt so that he could join her on the bed. Then, he laid next to her, barely paying attention to the screen.

He kept gazing at her with that now familiar awe. Lilah didn’t mind so much, this time. Occasionally, he would run his fingers over the exposed skin of her arms or neck. The motion soothed her, made her so incredibly relaxed that exhaustion took over. Lilah was asleep long before the narrator on the TV could hypothesize that aliens might be involved with building the pyramids.

[navree]

I think, if people are going to comment on how Rhaenyra was usurped, they should no about law or have common sense. Rhaenyra was made heir when it was only her and Daemon but when Aegon was born HE was the one in the throne. As unfair as it is, brothers go before sisters.

Just like Viserys shouldn't have inherited the iron throne. Rhaenys was the child of the oldest son so she should have inherited the throne, not Viserys.

i think the show screwed up in not pointing out that it wasn't necessarily Rhaenys that the Council was deciding on, it was moreso Laenor, and that he should inherit because he was the son of Jahaerys's eldest son, who had been Jahaerys's longtime heir. So the Council wasn't just saying that women couldn't inherit, but that men couldn't inherit through the female line either, which really should have put the kibosh on Rhaenyra or her sons inheriting the throne.

I'm willing to give the Great Council some leeway that I'm not willing to extend to later generations, because the whole point of that was that nobody was really sure what protocol was given how messy the Targaryen succession had been at that point and things were starting to amass to violence (Corlys was gathering a fleet to defend Laenor's claim and Daemon was gathering himself an army), so that's why Jahaerys decided to try a more democratic approach, and it was a majority of people who decided the outcome. There's issues with the fact that it's landowning highborn men who comprised the vote, but it is profoundly more democratic than just straight up birthright monarchy, and Viserys, and more importantly the precedent that selecting Viserys meant, is what they ultimately chose. It was a bad choice because of nearly everything about Viserys, and that Rhaenys likely was better suited, but as an American, I can very firmly state that sometimes democracy gives us decisions that we don't like but we have to deal with anyway (#StillWithHer).

The issue is that nothing was done afterwards to rectify that situation. The law wasn't made any clearer (precedent isn't set in stone law but it's still pretty powerful) and more importantly Viserys didn't do jack shit when he himself was on the throne. Like yeah he named Rhaenyra as his heir when he was widowed and had literally only her as an option as opposed to his psycho brother. But once he had multiple sons, the expectation and the precedent of the Great Council meant that everyone in the entire country is going to see Aegon as de-facto heir. So Viserys should have either abided by that or he should have clarified the law and codified Rhaenyra's succession (and thereby codified absolute primogeniture, at least for the Targaryens, which might be why he never did it) to make it the crystal clear law of the land. Because if all you've got is precedent that goes against Rhaenyra and twenty decades passing since the loyalty oaths were sworn, most people are going to assume that legality is on Aegon's side, even if the legality is unclear.

It's unfair to call Aegon a usurper, because usurpation by definition relies on someone taking power illegally. We can debate whether it was ethically and morally right for Aegon to take the throne all the live long day (just not with me because I don't care, all birthright monarchy is a scam anyway), but whatever law there was remained on his side, and even then the law as it pertained to Targaryen succession was so muddied that there's no law that Aegon could have been breaking by taking the throne. Like yeah, it's a mess, but the Targaryen succession up until that point had been Aegon doing his thing and then passing the throne to his eldest son (straightforward, normal, God bless you Aegon I miss you) and then Maegor seizing the throne from his nephew because shrug.emoji I guess he was crazy, then Jahaerys kinda falling into it after the Iron Throne murked Maegor, and THEN we had the Great Council followed by all of this nonsense. And in all that time no one thought to hammer out the law? We're relying on the precedent of Aegon to Aenys and then the Great Council and only that? It's so insane to me, succession at that point was basically a free for all and stayed that way until Aegon ended up having Aegon the Younger as his heir and cementing the concept of "closest male descendant available is the heir no matter what".

(And no I don't see it as a usurpation of Jahaera because a) no law and b) Jahaera was not fit to be a reigning monarch any more than she was fit to be married if whatever intellectual disability she was hinted at having ended up making her seem half her age mentally, sucks but it is what it is).

[shinelikethunder]

imagine a version of SPN s6 where soulless!Sam succeeds in killing Bobby, gets re-souled and spends a few episodes feeling terrible about it but mostly because he's afraid Dean will never forgive him, and then immediately eats enough radiation from Soul Chernobyl to depose Godstiel and usurp the throne of heaven

now consider original-flavor Godstiel, who is trying to fix the world with what amounts to a raging case of the If You People Would Onlies, a sheltered autistic teenager's understanding of what makes humans tick, a convert's zeal for the concept of free will with all the nuance of an undergrad who just got into Ayn Rand, several millennia of abstract knowledge of the world, and a reasonable command of his existing angel powers....... and replace him with a rambunctious golden retriever puppy with barely-controlled godlike powers and the emotional maturity & world knowledge of a six-year-old, who was parented by Winchesters and keeps getting people mortally injured in desperate bids for approval

now look me in the eye and tell me that Jack's s15 arc is anything but HILARIOUS and INSANE as a way to Fix Heaven and give the SPNverse a stable semi-optimistic ending. as opposed to a way to replace their Chuck problem with a brand-new, MUCH more exciting set of problems

("i guess if you stick to your plan to stay hands-off it might work, but how is that NOT a return to the eternal absent father-god in whose name all manner of atrocities, abuses of power, and ill-conceived bloodthirsty crusades can be justified?"

"because my vibes will be with you... always.")

[nitewrighter]

Am I crazy in thinking they've recently started concetrating the Crisis to Anubis? Like we always knew he was part of it but now they've basically confirmed he was the Crisis. Makes me think Sombra's eye might just be revealed to be Anubis. Is Anubis going to usurp Talon and Null Sector as the bad guy? It worries me because both Starcraft and Warcraft decided to concentrate most of the bad things in the universe to one guy too and it was terrible both times

Well back when it was Michael Chu writing, the canon answer to "What's the deal with God AI's" was basically, "Anubis was one of multiple God AI's, but also don't worry Anubis was more or less a one-off bad guy for Pharah's comic and the God AI's aren't really going to come into play like that again." So no, you're not crazy, Anubis has been significantly souped up Lore/Retcon-wise, to basically be the 'final boss' of the Omnic Crisis, which also leaves it as a lore possibility for Anubis to come into play again in the PvE.

Also the fact that Jack was spearheading the 'infiltrate Anubis' mission but doesn't have any voicelines pertaining to Anubis on the Temple of Anubis map, or really much mention of Anubis in the Ana 'Bastet' story, tells you that this is all a pretty recent addition to the lore. I mean it makes sense that it would be Jack on that kind of mission, but it also attributes to the recentness of Anubis's sudden significance.

It's still my hope/theory that Sombra's "Eye" conspiracy is actually about a 'dark aspect' of the Iris, something that naturally came into being when Aurora spread sentience among the Omnics, because as Genesis confirms, some omnics did choose to continue fighting humanity even after Aurora gave them sentience. But yeah, I'm with you--I also like it when a world is allowed to be more complex with its antagonistic forces and doesn't heap all of the conflict of its world onto one bad guy.

[rolloollor]

Is it ok to ask a bit more of your loved ships in bio. I'd like to see what you say about Idoazu Jack/Leovil

Sure! I'm always down to ramble.

idoazu

This was my main ship before mallerollo popped up. Naturally, I have the most to say about them.

I started to love idoazu when I got to Azul's overblot. I assumed Jade and Floyd would fuck off when Azul was in trouble, but they stayed! I was like, "Oh my god, they love him..." or at least care about him. I was legitimately moved since I was sure they'd dip. I've read people comment on their relationship and that it's purely transactional. That the second Azul falters, the tweels will give him the boot or eat him alive or whatever. Certainly Azul seems to believe this. They say something similar to Jamil in book 4, but it's important to remember that characters can lie and they can lie to themselves. They had a chance to drop him with the overblot and they didn't. Actions speak louder than words, right, so I think it's more likely that they believe it's only transactional, but they do genuinely like each other.

Though this like doesn't mean that the tweels treat Azul all that nice... they fucked up his restaurant during book 6 for funsies. Jade is a huge weirdo and I bet he loves seeing Azul frustrated or pissed off. I love Jade so much... I'm not as big on Floyd, but he can be surprisingly normal when he wants to be. It is nice that Azul has been able to have events with both of his boyfriends and even one with Idia without the eels if you're into that.

I like how close they are and I like how they respect each other. They all know each other's strengths and they've been together for a while. To go on this go-on-land venture together I think is significant. The tweels were the first to 'support' Azul, even if it was mainly to have fun, and I'm sure Azul does feel a bit of fondness for them, even if he says it's all business. I also like how Azul is a bit afraid of them, but he knows them well enough to be able to make his schemes appealing to them. There's this ever-present atmosphere of danger. Both eels love to eat octopus, after all. They're predators and Azul has this balancing act he had to perform, but even if he slipped and they usurped his position, I think they'd keep him around anyway. Floyd uses Azul's name, after all, so he's on the same level as Jade.

I'm not that interested in tweelcest, though. I never got the appeal of twincest. They look the same... I like when there's some kind of contrast.

leovil

The main thing that jumps out at me is how well they know each other and how they respect the other. Leona picked Vil for his Tamashina event and Playful Land showed more of the way they understand each other. They know their weaknesses, too. Their relationship would be complicated and maybe volatile at times, but I think they could make it work if they wanted to. It's probably Leona who'd hold it back. I feel like Vil could encourage him to try harder, but it could easily cross into being really irritating for Leona. Maybe Leona could get Vil to chill out a little bit, who knows. The appeal for me, aside from the visual contrast, is that it's a relationship of equals.

jackvil is just really cute. They're both very driven, and they already jog together in the mornings... it could easily develop from there. There's something just so charming about this giga celebrity getting together with a random guy he knew briefly as a child. It's cute. I think Jack would be good for Vil, too, since he'd be extremely loyal and supportive. He'd also make a good househusband. I don't have as much like 'backing' for this one, it's simple and cute. Plus I'm sure Vil does have a soft spot for him. The story about them making snow stuff together was really charming.

Also I dabbled in rookvil for a while, but it's like... too easy? Like things are established already. The climax of the love story happened already, if you feel me? I also don't like Rook's home screen line from the Ghost Marriage event where he says he's fickle... It worries me. I'm not against the pair, it just doesn't intrigue me, I guess.

[hermitcraft-8]

i wanna hear about the story!

so, twelve ancient beings akin to gods die and are reboen millennia later as 12 teenagers. each god (called a deiform) has different powers and a different fate, and the kids will echo these.

the first four are destined winners, and are called The Court.

the first and most powerful deiform is The Queen, reborn in madi costello. she has the ability to force people to do her will by touching them.

the second is the The Jack, born again into sean o'lainey. he can cause hallucinations and delusions

the third is The Warrior, born into dean laddis. his power is essentially raw brute strength.

the fourth is The Witch, who was reborn into lillian robyn. her power is flight and speed.

the next four are the Rebels, destined to fail and die.

the leader is The Usurper reborn into ash costello. his power is a fire that makes anyone who it touches inhumanly angry

there's also The Lover, reborn into miki laddis. she creates a fog that makes anyone who inhales it irrationally happy to the point of mania

there's The Priest, reborn into kyrie elias, who can call apon "cherubim" who are essentially a swarm of really smart wasps.

then last there's The Banker, born into lori castum. they have the midas touch basically

[mattzerella-sticks]

Supernatural Revival Idea:

An evil power separates Jack from their powers and reverts them to the body of a toddler/little kid and Jack falls to Earth (maybe at some point on the timeline - maybe in the past, maybe far into the future, possibly the present) where they're discovered and saved from the threat by a hunter and, despite being unwilling, he ends up taking the kid under his wing and raises them.

Cue Dean and Cas finding out where Jack had fallen and we see an adult Jack as a hunter with no memories of their life before and years of memories being raised by their new dad... played by - you guessed it - Pedro Pascal!

Anyway, the main conflict is this villain who has been trying to usurp Jack's power still. Meanwhile the secondary conflict is Dean and Cas trying to remind Jack of who they were versus Pedro's character who doesn't want to lose Jack because - that's his kid. And Jack is conflicted because they were raised to do the right thing and whether or not to take their powers back.

Ultimately it ends with Pedro's character suffering a fatal wound during the final fight protecting Jack and Jack ultimately deciding to retake their powers to vanquish the evil (and also save their dad). However, after the baddie is defeated, Jack realizes they can't save Pedro's character BUT he passes on happily knowing that Jack did the right thing and, despite retaking their God powers, still thinks of him as their dad, too. And Pedro wakes up in Heaven where Jack, Cas, and Dean find him.

Speaking of Dean and Cas... they've been up in Heaven for awhile living life as a couple. And Jack is their kid. They leave Heaven in their families' capable hands as they go to Earth to find them. And Dean and Pedro's character immediately rub each other the wrong way. But there's some attraction there. Meanwhile Cas and Pedro's character have a more obvious simmering attraction.

Now Dean and Cas are still attracted to each other and don't cheat, but also don't deny they find Pedro's character attractive... the only reasonable course of action, then, is they open up the relationship and form a throuple.

Anyway, that's MY revival idea lol