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incarnateirony · 4 years

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S15 Remaster: Grace, Souls, Conversion; Effects of the Fall; The Journey of Man; Self-Godhood and Free Will.

Alright, so over in another thread (x) @curioussubjects evoked an interesting take about the effects of the fall vs grace/souls and the meaning of the two, and I remembered having an old post that was a bit of a mess from early S13 where I applied Qabbalistic concepts to SPN not long before the actual... Qabbalistic and Hermetic elements started manifesting (The Shadow, the Empty/Ain Soph, etc) and before I pretty much started flipping theological shit.

The other thread was already becoming titanic with a hodge podge of other philosophical musings between users (I think @winchestersingerautorepair and @thecoffeebrain-blog are still pending to add their additions to it once life clears them), so we sort of mutually agreed to save this discourse for another thread while I took some time to remaster and update the old talking points.

It's a fundamental point that is generally vaguely brushed over, or often has modern concepts plugged into it in streamlined media form rather than exploration: What makes a soul, what makes existence, what makes meaning in our lives.

This, in fact, is the fundamental question and exploration *of* the soul, which Dabb's SPN seems to be tackling fairly directly.

So let's explore the differences and transitional conversions of grace and soul as we've witnessed in SPN. I'll be starting with my take, but of course, as all philosophical discussions go, this is best a conversation of shared concepts.

Also uh, this post was kinda on-request but is literally ridonculously long. Fuck Andrew Dabb for being the only person on the face of the goddamn planet that can make me write infinite words about esoteric philosophy about a TV show.

So this conversation gets a bit difficult to even know where to begin. I'm going to notch a few notes for everybody to keep in mind: Season 6: Death can not destroy souls. Souls are the most powerful known force in the universe, and he who has the most Is Become God. Season 13: Only god can create new angels, they are the biological definition of an asexually reproductive species (as opposed to sexual orientation identity) -- they are unable to create among themselves, and must be created by a supreme force in command of the grace that creates them. This will passively brush over the oft-discussed topic of angel sexuality as well, but that is far from the core point. Season 14: God calls souls "complicated" to handwave away making new ones. Season 15: Yet again, Belphegor tried to consume souls to become a great power, reflecting S6/7 Castiel's arc.

Now that I've sort of dropped those as a lead-in of applicable concepts, I'd like to move forward.

Now as per my S13 listing, we've all seen this fandom turn over and try to apply human sexuality and identity labels to angels over and over again and, while I understand that and mean no offense to that in general, I feel like approaching it from that angle of the human perspective and lens makes a great deal of the substantiative qualities of SPN's discussion of the human soul vanish into the aether. How are these things related? Let's talk!

Sex isn’t the only part of this discussion. As they are wavelength lifeforms, rather than biological, they aren’t really dependent on biological functions. Many of their native elements pass to their vessels: They don’t eat, sleep, or have general body functions… normally.

Their senses are all sorts of different, too. They see in the astral, they taste and smell in molecular compounds, and especially early-vessel-claiming, they seem to have next to no actual pain response. It’s like, well, some giant wave form stuffed in a meat sack they use like a marionette more than having genuine attachment to. Early on angels could waltz through gunfire without flinching and take a knife to the chest with a very bland look of, “Really?”

When it comes to discussing angels and grace, I'm going to pull some sections from the linked post at the start of this:

We know the biblical concept that all things are made by grace; we know Chuck controls his fake construct, but not the free will of the human soul. Consider Gabriel’s constructed worlds where he can manipulate the fake people inside it and snap them away in veils of blue, they’re just pieces of a machine. “I’m the cage.” The human body is part of the sandbox, but the soul is something beyond it.

If angels are living aspects of grace, wavelengths of celestial intent for Chuck’s machinations, the programs that keep the matrix in order – and fallen angels are the rogue programs – they’re still relatively connected to being just… an animated, if intelligent rock or any other piece of the universe. To use more Matrix terms: Just more lines of code. But Castiel’s break in that was contact with his profound bond with Dean that left a mark on him, a brand, just like Balthazar’s soul claims. This tie was powerful enough to be stronger than even Amara’s connection to Dean, for example.

The human soul is the essence of the one true good, realistically – The One Thing that exists, truly, by which all other things come, the Prima Materia – “What Jack did wasn’t evil, it was the absence of good.” – this is actually a hermetic concept but that’s a whole other bag of words, that’s how I quoted that line before the episode aired from the title alone but MOVING ON

If we look at Eileen for example, her ghost is still deaf. Her body/cage/vessel in life never introduced her consciousness, her humanity, to the tactile sense of sound as it exists within Chuck’s sandbox, ergo her spirit doesn’t know it. But it is the soul, like the sleeper, seeking the meaning of its existence and where it is home that commands the body, and leaves the body, and ends up in chuck’s other matrixes of control like heaven and hell that keep people distracted, keep humans from returning to the primordial man that rivals or maybe even betters God.

That all said, human Cas for example suddenly had the full awareness of experience, rather than an autonomous sentient part of the universe chained to divine intent, free or not; that freedom and liberty came by way of the human soul. (Per metatron, Season 8 finale, “When you die and your soul comes to heaven,”) But with his tie to Dean, and humanity, and a soul his hands laid on, the extraction of his grace also left… but what? A soul born of Dean, really.

Whenever his grace came back, that universal power and awareness, he lost those senses, but he didn’t lose many of the attributes that came with. In fact he pined for them.

Also if we go Jungian with the inky man/shadow as the primordial man or spirit of man, Anthropos, while it didn’t reflect Lucifer, Billie, or soulless Jack it reflected Castiel.

I’ve held the theory that Castiel still has a soul like the nucleus of an egg buried beneath a titanic presence of universal power.

I’d also further endorse this by pointing out while metatron cited Cas having a soul in the S8 finale, when Jack lost his, neither Dean nor Cas thought Cas could empathize as well as Sam could.

In example, Castiel is the only one the Shadow reflected, not Billie, not Soulless Jack, not Lucifer, just Castiel; I’ve even gone so far as to speculate that the smiley attempt at communication was the sort of subconscious borg having the essence of Jack’s soul trying to communicate with his spirit/mind otherwise alert based on consumed grace in the Empty. Speculation, yes, but… potentially loudly resonant.

The journey of man to self-godhood is a complex and tangled affair, traveling through facets of the self represented by a wide array of *ideas* we have begun to face in the show (including color schemes Dabb has actively employed)

If you venture into my shorthand visual post about The Shadow, Anima, Animus, and the Self (x) you'll find how the show has chosen to address this. Similarly, the masculine and feminine paths of universal progenation would be worth a cursory read (x).

Similarly, @winchestersingerautorepair recently sent me a chart from a 1973 book titled "The Colors of Love" discussing Hellenistic use of color in association (which, minding alchemy's growth path through time, is hugely relevant). As Maeve said, "John Allen Lee is the mvp by the way. Hes at the crossroads of psychology and LGBT concepts of love and sexuality, and has a fascinating career and life story."

Before I fully locked on to just how loud Dabb was being in his use of alchemy rather than casually tapping on it, you may remember a series of color metas I built specifically on these very colors (and, let's face it, black light doesn't exist, but blue does, and has similar psychological associations). Click this (x) to go to my color metas on tumblr regarding Optimism, which follows this path. Unfortunately my Nihilism one is either untagged or I only posted it on Pillowfort. But you’ll take note I just sort of avoided/dodged/ignored established fanon color meta in favor of other stuff, just a heads up there if you’re expecting me to follow anyone else’s pre-existing fanon -- it ain’t there.

This is all an aside to the actual question of *souls*, but an important framework to how Dabb is choosing to explore the journey of the soul through its many aspects of Being.

To defer back to what I quoted from my other post about Gabriel's universes: What makes humanity different from the moving bodies performing functions of controlled story, rather than guided elements, inside Gabriel's world? If we were to, say, drift into Doctor Sexyverse, or Cop Proceduralverse, nobody seemed to flinch or even be aware of Sam and Dean breaking the script, they continued on their own paths until Sam and Dean "played their parts". But what made Sam and Dean *different* from them?

Explaining freedom to angels is "a bit like teaching poetry to a fish," said Castiel, now bound to humanity since laying his hands on the human soul in hell that, even the S8 DVD commentary mentions, is how he has come to know, love and, as they say, be "enamored with" humanity. We have seen it now-- blank stares of confusion from breaking their course of action, their function. Their predesigned purpose that they were wavelengths of intent for within the machine. They aren't all so different from Gabriel's creations in the end, with Doctor Sexy's Nurses being not too unlike angels to Chuck. They are there for a path and a reason, and should they be somehow interrupted from that function, they seem to lose all purpose.

To convert this to another method of understanding than "matrix code", in case that isn't sinking in with anyone, think of angels as forces of nature. The hurricane means no malice, it simply exists as a function of or even result of universal laws, and often evokes great rebalancing effects that change the course of history for a huge amount of humans and other creatures that it's basically oblivious to. The hurricane does not understand your feelings much less care about them. It is here to do what it does until it is done with what it does. This very concept is why so many ancient gods are primitive archetypes of natural forces.

If we cease trying to box angels into human perceptions for the want to identify with them in such a representation-light landscape, the field opens up to something infinitely more complicated. Such as: what makes Castiel so different? I've already addressed that, of course, in this post, but let's pitch that as a conversational hook again.

"You want to know why we're meant to stay away from those humans? It's not because we're a danger to them. It's because they're a danger to us."

Now BECAUSE sexuality is the angle this fandom has heavily thrown its discussion chips into beyond the other senses, I'm going to move forward into that topical field:

Anna, talking to Dean, lists a long flurry of reasons to become human, among which sex was stapled. In later seasons, Cas comes up with a different list, but it’s more reflective of his emotive view of humanity, and doesn’t include the sex. Either way, it actually leaves interesting take on the human soul’s function (which is also a silent part of something I’ll get to later** ) as per the trinity of mind-soul-body sometimes called “The Threefold Nature of Man” in a lot of classic mysticism. **

So why would Anna include sex in the list if others can enjoy it? There’s various reasons of taking this into consideration, and I consider most headcanon potentials valid since… you know, there’s really no clear statement on this.

- Most angels have a copilot and that’s just creepy AF - It could be subliminal commentary of wanting to enjoy a native drive for it rather than a learned one, since affections and emotions are also canonically attached to the human condition (as well as the 3fold Nature discussed later). - It could have to do with gradual humanization effects (will discuss shortly) - Misc other.

Barring our specific presumption of why this hangs in the air, the detail is that it simply *does*. Perhaps the truth is between all of these, with each angel unto their own.

Anna lurked, invisibly, on earth observing men as long as she knew. Now, gradual humanization effects is a complete headcanon proposal associated around all elements to be covered in this discussion. That is to say, most angels that have exhibited sexual behavior and enjoyment of various goods have either been fallen or in their vessels for a LONG TIME, perhaps gradually removing the disassociation from the body and gaining familiarity with its functions.

Yes, we can evoke Balthazar’s sexual activity, but we must also evoke his appreciation for wine and food and music and all of the other things that we have canonically, even mechanically witnessed in Castiel (inability to appreciate food or drink, in example, as an angel.) So WHAT makes Balthazar different that he CAN experience all of these things (beyond the potential of Plothole AF)? There is literally something he has that other angels don’t. The second Cas clicks back to angel, he can’t appreciate food anymore and beer does nothing for him, but Balthazar can enjoy alcohol? There is LITERALLY a difference of template of EVERYTHING going on here, not just sexuality. We can postulate it all we want, but the only one that immediately comes to mind is “gradual humanization”, as we haven’t the FOGGIEST idea how long he has had his vessel. Unless we assume various appreciations of his are Just An Act, but then why not assume it’s performance behavior on the sexuality too? Pick one or the other, don’t run the line on both. (Also if you want to be under the assumption that despite terminal soul dealing it was his first vessel run, I’m going to leave this as a note, and a REMINDER of his meddling in attachment to, handling, trade and use of human souls for his own means, and tuck this aside until we GET to the meaning of human souls.)

The VERY SAME can be said of Gabriel. And Gabriel we KNOW has been on earth as Gabe for a VERY. LONG. TIME. His sweet tooth is what got him busted. Again, it’s not just about his sexuality, it’s his entire composition is somehow DIFFERENT from otherwise canonical function of angels.

Again I point out there’s also a big ??????? on Naomi because again… 400 year old Crowley in Mesopotamia. We have no educated way to even ADDRESS that one because… is it a time warp? WTH??? Even Mark called this a plothole. Literally we have to headcanon how they were even there together before we headcanon what was even going on in a big old pillar of ridiculous headcanon, so I’m going to float that off in a box labeled with a question mark and admit, it’s just random AF. The “fling” is also implied and unclear. So I mean- we’ll just… note that and keep moving on why it’s never impacted my perception of this much.

How long fallen was Lucifer?

Hannah brings an obvious question to mind in challenge to all of my surrounding premises, but this is literally where “choice of experimentation within a vessel” comes into play, as with all of them. I’m human now, this seems like a fun thing to humans, let me try the thing; that’s all I’ve ever read that as. You may have your read of it otherwise, but angels try a lot of things. And I’ll bring this up during canon talk.

The concept of humanization-with-time does have some further established presence of S13. When Lucifer is still an angel but largely drained of his grace, he too begins feeling compulsions of hunger, cold, and basic human instinct he was previously immune to. Diminished power, and the closer one comes to being of Soul Rather than Grace, the more they seem to resonate. Anna carved out her grace to fully enjoy humanity and was born into it, experiencing its gifts of awareness. Cas can no longer fully enjoy humanity as an angel. We don’t know what Balthazar’s status is. And so on. But it appears that by VARIOUS METHODS, such as the depletion of grace or just being a long-assed time to attach to a specific vessel, they do end up ATTAINING various behaviors.

Preparing to speak on Humanized Angels.

What really triggered this premise to me was the recurring humanization of Castiel. And again, this goes far beyond just sexuality preferences. I’m going to do a brief break to get to that ** I marked above about the threefold nature of man before expanding.

** Mind-Soul-Body trinity:

Angels have the mind/spirit (grace) and body, but lack a soul; grace is closer to their natural body’s composition than molecular and transmits a wavelength thought into whatever sack they’re using to operate. But there’s a disconnect here in classic mind-soul-body structure (which is sometimes alternately listed as Body-Spirit-Soul, with Soul as the mind instead, and Spirit in place of the alternate listing of Soul? People swap these terms interchangeably but you’ll find a common pull). There’s multiple takes on this. For example, we’ll go with the standard accepted biblical take as a first ideation of it, considering the various judeochristian influences of SPN.

Please NOTE I’m going to list several variations of this, and have no hard cast “this is the exact model” they’re using, as much as “this is a recurring theme in religion and philosophy”, which, while SPN is rarely 100% accurate to any one specific model, they often call on.

The EXACT itterations of this vary, and there’s no real saying which exact respective “silent ven diagram” they’re using, but as if a triple circle overlapped with Mind, Body, Spirit with the balance we as humans know at the core. Removing a rung of this strips out major overlap of function.

The inner spirit, insight, will and memory reaching from spirit/mind to body by WAY of the soul, for the spirit to engage the human senses within the constructed universe

CASTIEL

Well, perhaps I’ve been down here with them for too long. There’s seemingly nothing but chaos. But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams.

HANNAH

But t-those are human things.

CASTIEL

Yes.

To fully understand this chart, I again point to (as earlier in this post) this previous post about primordials, explaining the chain (x), Anima Animus and the Shadow (x) and also its association with the paths on way to enlightenment at the source of creation which is explored, for a particular path, right here (x)

Just another way to stack out this chart, including the adventure of Anima and Animus, as well as the id/ego/superego I’ll discuss soon; However, you can see the literal concept is the same. There’s an inner mind, a central essence of the inner court that reflects close to the aspects of Humanity Cas told Hannah, and then the “living room” of the body, and the senses. Same deal. Again, "I'm the cage."

You see a running theme here?

The Soul is essentially commonly received as a vehicle between the higher mind and the body (as well as possessing aspects of our emotion, and sense of self, such as how Sam lost parts of himself without his soul) That, without which, we are lacking various critical anchors of the human experience that we often see lacking in angels.

This therein raises the challenge, “But Soulless Sam was ALL ABOUT the sex.”

That’s where species difference comes in.

We’ll talk psychology a bit, wherein we have the psychological variances of id, ego and superego rather than just body-soul-mind/spirit. They essentially perform the same functions (base instinct drive, early personality function, learned and refined function with choices etc, to boil it down to super-simplistics).

“According to this Freudian model of the psyche, the id is the set of uncoordinated instinctual trends; the super-ego plays the critical and moralizing role; and the ego is the organized, realistic part that mediates between the desires of the id and the super-ego.” – Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. Vol. XIX. Translated from the German under the General Editorship of James Strachey. In collaboration with Anna Freud. Assisted by Alix Strachey and Alan Tyson, Vintage, 1999. [Reprint.] ISBN 0-09-929622-5

A Sam with no soul has his base species survival instinct but his acting mind. A Cas with no soul has HIS base species survival instinct (in lack of sexual reproduction as much as potential learned appreciation under the above spoken methods) for an id, if any, and a curiously arranged body until other elements come into play. The ego and superego, such as the application of a soul, leaves room for the gradual inclusion of preferences to anything within this model, such as angels developing their own ORIENTATION once having a vehicle by which to come through.

There’s a few other points to notice about the transition. The Mind/Spirit is capable of questions and doubts, or faith. “I’m not a hammer, as you call it; I have questions, I have doubts.” - S4 Castiel.

The mind is capable to think and to reason, but complex emotions are a challenge to it without a soul, which also filters our thoughts and memories from upper mind into the body, wherein we gain connectivity to the physical senses and the realm we experience.

But the universe -- the wavelengths of intent that make it function -- simply can not experience itself, any more than any other code running on your computer can experience itself. It is you, the human, that experiences the results of that code, and views and understands it and reaches out to aspects of life through it. Grace, should all things be made by it and through Chuck, as the thing that creates this code/intent of angels -- it simply is, and runs, and functions.

So BACK TO THE HUMANIZATION OF ANGELS,

Castiel has humanized or near-humanized three times and we're pending on a fourth. Briefly in the hospital, he was braindead (lacking Jimmy’s brain function, but instead having his own mind) while his heart remained pumping, meaning the body/vessel was alive, but the remaining grace WAS in fact functioning in place of a mind.

CASTIEL 5.21 I just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought I was brain-dead. (…) CASTIEL You could say my batteries are – are drained. DEAN What do you mean? You’re out of angel mojo? CASTIEL I’m saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I’m saying that I’m just incredibly… DEAN Human. Wow. Sorry.

However, it was depleted, and this is addressed in effect later on by Metatron removing grace. As grace is removed,

METATRON 8.23 And now something wonderful is going to happen, for me and for you. I want you to live this new life to the fullest. Find a wife. Make babies. And when you die and your soul comes to Heaven, find me. Tell me your story.

Now Castiel goes on to return to himself by going all cannibal and whatnot, but that’s its own story. The simple fact of it is, with the mind housed in a vessel, but the grace attached to it depleted, the body seems to generate something like, equivalent to, or equal to a human soul in its function.

Now to reflect back

2014!CASTIEL 5.04 So, in this way. We’re each a fragment of total perception—just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now, the key to this total, shared perception—it’s, um, it’s surprisingly physical. 2014!CASTIEL spots DEAN. 2014!CASTIEL Oh. Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute. Why not go get washed up for the orgy? The WOMEN leave. 2014!CASTIEL You’re all so beautiful. 2014!CASTIEL stands and stretches his back, grunting. DEAN What are you, a hippie? 2014!CASTIEL I thought you’d gotten over trying to label me. (…) 2014!CASTIEL I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I’m sorry, no dice. DEAN What, are you stoned? 2014!CASTIEL Uh, generally, yeah. DEAN What happened to you? 2014!CASTIEL Life. (…) 2014!CASTIEL You want some? DEAN Amphetamines? 2014!CASTIEL It’s the perfect antidote to that absinthe. DEAN Mmm. Don’t get me wrong, Cas. I, uh. I’m happy that the stick is out of your ass, but—what’s going on—w-with the drugs and the orgies and the love-guru crap? 2014!CASTIEL laughs. DEAN What’s so funny? 2014!CASTIEL Dean, I’m not an angel anymore. DEAN What? 2014!CASTIEL Yeah, I went mortal. DEAN What do you mean? How? 2014!CASTIEL I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving. But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of— psshhew!—drained away. And now, you know, I’m practically human. I mean, Dean, I’m all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid up for two months. DEAN Wow. 2014!CASTIEL Yeah. DEAN So, you’re human. Well, welcome to the club. 2014!CASTIEL Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I’m powerless. I’m hapless, I’m hopeless. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right? It’s the end, baby. That’s what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that’s, that’s just how I roll.

Now, we can try to extrapolate that it’s “all the drugs,” but drugs or not, while decadence includes MORAL decline, it also is this:

dec·a·dence ˈdekədəns/Submit noun moral or cultural decline as characterized by excessive indulgence in pleasure or luxury.

And Cas doesn’t get words wrong (unless he’s trying to make an awkward conversation starter with Dean as what’s almost a routine for them, always in idioms and never in definition). In fact, he has a very on-point vocabulary. How often does someone evoke “Insouciant”?

Calling it decadence defines this as a luxury to Castiel. The entire episode is like One Giant Exposition of the differences: being breakable, prone to decadence, bang a few gongs on the way out. Yes, it includes drugs; hell, he’s now subject to being INFLUENCED by drugs, contrary to being able to drink down the entire bar before “starting to feel something” or needing to drink the whole liquor store before the grace stopped implicitly filtering it enough for him to stagger in on Sam. At some point, Castiel decided these were ALL his coping mechanisms, but this is an adaptation of some period of humanization between late 2009 and 2014.

This could be considered a one-off of Zachariah’s manipulation or whatever if we choose to ignore Edlund saying it was a real universe, but then we get the SAME THING hitting us again in season 9, if under a different, immediate scope rather than “end result.”

9.01 CASTIEL looks at his bloody palm. CASTIEL It hurts. (…) MAN How about we get you some water, hmm? CASTIEL I, uh, I don’t drink water. (…) CASTIEL It’s okay. I don’t eat.

and

9.03 CASTIEL (Chewing on the toothpaste) I’ll be moving on tonight after work. It’s time. The MAN nods and hangs up his towel. CASTIEL Can I ask you something? MAN Sure. CASTIEL walks into one of the bathroom stalls. CASTIEL Do you ever tire of urinating? I’ll never get used to it. (…) HOMELESS MAN You’re new at this, aren’t you? CASTIEL Food… sleep, or passing gas, it’s all very strange. And it’s occurred to me that one day I’m gonna die. CASTIEL and the HOMELESS MAN just look at each other curiously. CASTIEL Well… I better try falling asleep. It’s quite a process, isn’t it? (…)

Now, we’re going to take to the raw moment of Castiel and April,

She kisses him gently on the cheek, but stays close and eventually kisses him on the lips. CASTIEL seems surprised at first but then joins in.

Cas is surprised… and then joins in. Castiel did not expect this, but falls into it of his own action. No force was implied, and the moment leading into it was all of a few seconds, rather than any persistence or insistence.

A few more bits,

APRIL So, that was okay? CASTIEL Very much so. Um… what I did, that was, uh… correct? APRIL Very much so. CASTIEL (Smiling) (…) APRIL So what happens next for you? CASTIEL More of this, I hope. They smile and start making out again.

I don’t exactly get the feeling that she’s entirely leading this situation on all by herself, to the dismay of several gatekeeper ship or sexuality stans.

More elements with regards to humanity in this episode,

CASTIEL I am really enjoying this place. Plentiful food. Good water pressure. Things I never even considered before. There really is a lot to being human, isn’t there? DEAN It ain’t all just burritos and strippers, my friend. CASTIEL Yeah. I understand what you’re saying. SAM You do? CASTIEL Yes, there’s more to humanity than survival. You… look for purpose, and you must not be defeated by anger or despair. Or hedonism, for that matter. DEAN Where does hedonism come into it? CASTIEL Well, my time with April was very educational. SAM Yeah. I mean, I would think that getting killed is something. CASTIEL And having sex. DEAN chokes on his burrito for a second. DEAN You had sex with April? SAM Yeah, that would be where the hedonism comes in.

This isn’t just Castiel talking about having sex for the first time. This is Castiel acknowledging the allure of hedonism for the first time (…not minding the timewarp of 5.04, which didn’t happen Because AU.)

And here, also 9.03, before meeting April CASTIEL is once again wandering through the noise and the people. He is trying to take everything in – he glances from a hot dog stand to a woman’s breasts to a supermarket. The whole place is noisy and crowded and confusing. He is overwhelmed.

In 9.03, among this onslaught of Castiel’s change in visual, sound, sensory, and other instinctual acknowledgment of a change in the senses (see back to the 3Fold Nature and the acquisition of a human soul), we also get Castiel rubbernecking at a woman’s chest for the first time, before encountering April; the transcript doesn’t do the moment proper justice with the pure level of focus directors and editors called to it. In fact, we get slow camera pan and a rubberneck that might as well have ended with him walking-flipping into a trashcan blindside.

With all of these stacked connotations aside, I find it difficult to interpret anything but it being installed as a yet-again evocation of a difference in function.

Episodes 1 and 3, the first two episodes Castiel is in during season 9 after losing his grace at the end of season 8, DELUGE us with a current of differences of all of his sensory faculties.

Once his state is “corrected,” (for lack of a better term - Castiel seems to yearn for his humanity back through the show) the show makes a point of showing us a reversal as applicable,

SAM What? What are you talking about? CASTIEL When I was human, you know, I had to eat constantly. It was kind of annoying. SAM Yeah, a lot of human things are pretty annoying. CASTIEL But…I enjoyed the taste of food – particularly peanut butter with grape jelly, not jam. Jam I found unsettling. SAM [sitting on the table next to CASTIEL] So, what? Now you can’t taste PB and J? CASTIEL No, I-I taste every molecule. SAM Not the sum of its parts, huh? CASTIEL It’s overwhelming. It’s disgusting. [looks longingly at the sandwich] I miss you, PB and J.

Once again, paradigm shift. What he once appreciated, amidst the VAST wash of senses they told us about, just seems… null now. Something is missing, and something is different. Again, the universe can no longer experience ITSELF.

Now, I’m going to fall back a bit to cover what would possibly be framed as an argument against all of this, but frankly builds into it,

Back in season 6, Meg was UNABASHEDLY FLIRTING WITH CASTIEL and trying to prompt him to “move some furniture around,” and, in a learned “last night on earth” move, Castiel makes a motion in 6.10

Meg grabs Castiel by the neck and kisses him, at the same time removing his sword. Castiel pushes her up against the wall and returns the kiss with interest. MEG: What was that? CASTIEL: I learned that from the pizza man.

NOTICE. LEARNED THAT.

With FORWARD PROMPTING from Meg, and existing example (porn), Castiel did in fact make a move. That is to say, “learned behaviors” and “personal orientation” beyond “species reproductive instinct”. But as made clear by April, this never led anywhere particular, never completed, and while he expressed wanting repeats with April during being human, this is the only actual example we have of it.

In short: throughout the show, Castiel finds new things and tests new things. These new things become bizarre little childlike obsessions at times even. This one… obviously a little less childlike. (clears throat) But again, this is a process of “learned motion.” (though I’m somewhat disturbed that canonically Emmanuel-Cas sees her face and is absolutely horrified at her appearance, meaning this is also not likely even by nature of physical/spiritual attraction as much as personal, almost a demisexual trait with experimental curiosity which, as an independent idea beyond “holy shit she’s a demon”, is a healthy phase.)

But by way of learned motion/acquired taste and function, we then have the question of “why doesn’t Cas repeat this if he clearly enjoyed season 9?” Well, I can name a few. We can go over the fact that Cas simply doesn’t explore social venues that make it ready. Or we can mention his seeming lack of compulsion for it which ...is a topic of this post. Or we can simply reflect to the *challenges* of hedonism and what it will, in this post, continue to implicitly adventure as the cage and trappings of the human body and experience within what we call “life”, which the human soul extends well beyond.

But it leads us to an interesting series of questions about Castiel and Dean’s seemingly changed interactions in season 12, on a subliminal level.

And no, I’m not implying they’re boning. When Dean is no longer getting strung across a variety of cosmic elements to save him directly from the crosshairs of, or from himself, we’re getting this weird vibe of gruff jealousy, bickering, and infighting. As if Castiel, settling in more among them, is channeling increased humanity. Despite being an angel in some crippled capacity still, personality traits acquired from his human period are still there, leading to believe the soul element never ENTIRELY disappeared, as much as with further ding-dang-donged up grace, we have to wonder - is this almost a sliding scale? Or can both run mutually when one doesn’t overshadow the other? The exact specifics of this mechanic would be unclear.

But all of these complexities is why I find it nearly impossible to, in my head, reduce it to the simple “well some like it and-” because I have always read an intentional base-beat of differentiation between the human and angelic experience including, but not limited to, sex.

There’s a subtle hint of some osmosis of this in what I mentioned above with Hannah. “Perhaps I’ve been with them too long.”

CASTIEL

Well, perhaps I’ve been down here with them for too long. There’s seemingly nothing but chaos. But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams.

HANNAH

But t-those are human things.

CASTIEL

Yes.

And so why I find it impossible to just address “angel sexuality” as its own topic. This may just be my brain at work, but I don’t see all of this effort in dividing their experiences, in a show that addresses theology and concepts like the human soul, to be arbitrary and random and I just see SO much beautiful complexity IN the shift of his sexual behaviors, among other operations. It’s not just about Castiel’s sexuality, it’s about addressing the complex creatures that are humans, and what builds us at a core. Frankly, from that end, it doesn’t matter if Cas is bi, ace, straight or pan – Castiel has been human, and wants to be so again. And it, along with other things littered throughout the show, have given us great insights on the soul, or the lack thereof, and all of these beautiful building blocks.

And so to roll away from approaching sexuality so heavily, and instead ball and bundle that up as part of the human experience within the body, the reflection of the human soul, I hook again: The universe can not experience itself more than Windows OS can experience itself; it requires the essence of man to experience the result of the work of grace and by which it finds many things of itself, even within the trappings of a human life.

The fact that humans are afterwards caged elsewhere is a whole other discussion me and others have been holding in the original linked post, so let's step away from that and instead go back to the concept of, far and away beyond sexuality, what makes a soul, and how is it different from the created universe.

If we were to apply these concepts -- angels, bodies of grace, as parts of the universe and how it functions -- versus the irrevocable free will fundamental to the human soul, dividing bodies from just being roving parts of the construct like Gabriel's realms -- to our dialogue in regards to Castiel as our seeming oddball with a crack in his chassis, "And the universe came to humanity, and laid hands on humanity, and fell in love with humanity to come to know it; it abandoned its own purpose and functions due to this connection to the concept of the human soul, and began to live and dream and love as a man, rebelling against its predesigned function; and one day, the orphic child of both the universe and man looked through the eyes of the universe to first see man, and itself was born from the universe unto man, to live and learn as a man and hold its dominion of both human sovereignty and creator of grace, mastering both realms." in regards to Jack's very creation, and why he is such a huge threat to Chuck's power and control of his realm.

As a powerful creature of grace, he can take and reroute those elements without issue by authoritative command of the independent liberty of the human soul, free thinking and not just a Doctor Sexy Nurse in motion.

But the question is conversion, which we've seen in both directions, be it Castiel acquiring a human soul or Jack converting humans into angels with his command of both of these dominions. The best I could liken it to is AC/DC energy conversion. It is worth noting, however -- grace can be drained without permission, it is not tied to freedom. Humanity is the body of choice: be that humans choosing to surrender that in the name of glory and power to simply become part of universal functions, which isn't so different from choosing to burn one's own soul away in the name of spells, magic or other power; or the human spirit attached to its cage of a body and life still needing to concede and give permission to be taken BY the forces of the universe, surrendering the potential impact of their own choices within their own moving cage to what the universe would will of it.

Ironically, if you use an AC inverter to power a computer or television, the power supply in the device is converting the 120-volt alternating current into a much lower voltage direct current. The sensitive electronic circuits in these devices need low, regulated voltages to work, so you're actually converting DC to AC so it can be changed back into DC again. You can't use straight direct current without the AC to DC inverter because the device's power supply needs the AC power in order to properly step down and regulate the voltage. That is to say, in conversion parts are lost, but they can still be transmitted; so while Castiel was subject to the human experience, he still struggled with parts like dreaming. It was a young, small spark of a soul, converted from another energy form, and likely with his connection to Dean acting as the inverter.

Demons go to the empty; demons are former human souls that corrupted and lost the light that made them inherently "good." That which defines them. They have collapsed to the pressures of Chuck's universes and let their flame go out. But realistically, that's also antagonized by other human souls in hell trying to escape their own torment.

It has been seen, time and again, that the only thing that can destroy a human soul is... the human soul.

*takes a breath*

And now to explore what @curioussubjects has been saying about The Shadow as a recycling Bin of souls, which would predate the universe and even Chuck, I simply repeat this segment, to help master-off this post:

If we take the Shadow as the reflection of the collective soul, which then becomes the substantiative Prima Materia through which all things come (x), including even the potential of Chuck and Amara as manifestations of the primitive concept of masculine and feminine, light and dark as among the first thoughts in the cosmos. But in such by it all things are born, even the universe or the gods, in this proposed theory. It is the primitive self asking (per the far-above chart), first–well, WTF, why am I thinking, but after that – who are they, and then who am I, and then eventually who are you, before the end of the soul’s journey on its path is Who Art Thou, long ventured within the constructed realm to learn what it means that we even exist.

Those first thoughts then create the totemic pillars of creation by which it can explore the very meaning of existence, even if its own thoughts have made cages and trappings for itself in the expansion of infinite time, but those cages are themselves the vehicles of higher learning and experience, and without those cages, the rest is for naught.

This is the nature of the Prima Materia, the One Thing by which all comes which I linked above. If the soul and Prima Materia are synonymous, then while the universe comes by grace, then all things -- even grace -- come by way of the raw template of the collective soul, which then structures all resulting thought and experience through an infinite series of independent human experience that defines who were are, independent to ourselves, beyond the vat of primitive consciousness that binds us.

The question even comes, why not just reset time? But I am good with who I am. I am good with who you are. This isn't just a story. It's our lives. So god or no god, you go to hell.

And so the reincarnate journey of the man, through the many deaths and rebirths of Sam and Dean and lessons gained within the universe, begins to lock on to the meaning of the independent self in what it means in full, beyond the challenges sent by the creator that may very well be a reflection of our own primal thoughts, our doubts, our fears, our internalized challenges not too unlike the Shadow which again I raise, and point back to the above-linked protogenic discussion of the masculine and feminine paths: In this premise, are Chuck and Amara anything less than the Animus and Anima of humanity, should the Shadow be their forefather?

The path of alchemy, before it became pursuit of literal gold, was about self completion and sovereignty. The phases I have listed above, as well as a brief overview of Dabb's use of it, but if anyone wants a visual aide in these, check out these three videos (x) (x) (x) and remember that Chuck desperately wants them to believe that nothing Gold can stay, should it complete this path; because should man become Gold, they also become God, and he has no authority here. Because in the end, if we abandon the cages -- be it human bodies or heaven -- in here, in this headspace that is Chuck's, we're all just projections of the primitive man trying to find our independent meaning in life. So in here, we're all the same. So in here, Chuck's all talk. And Chuck's afraid, and even wounded by elements of his own creation fallen into the free hands of man.

And so to FULLY hook back, the effects of the fall --

To be detached in various tiers from the divine spheres of constructed intent, and surrendered unto man, or touched by man, or tied to man, or even converted unto man simply seems to be removing the lines of code that defines the constructed universe and instead leaves only the experience of soul, be it directly gained or by proxy. And with that comes many things -- be that the oft-discussed sexuality of angels or any of their other senses, but also their ability like Castiel to understand "complex" ideas like independent thought and function that is otherwise like "explaining poetry to fish" to his kin. I remind you of Agent Smith in the Matrix, who was essentially infected with the power of the One that completely started warping the laws of the universe and, eventually, left the universe, to become the body of man outside of the universe.

It is the universe falling into man, as man at some point seems to have fallen into the universe. And their child now waits beyond the universe, holding council with Death and the Inky Man over what to do from here.

The human experience is double-sided. By it we learn, experience, and exist; but as chuck designed the sandbox, so too did he the bodies as cages. So be that "hedonism" or anything else, these are limitations and bindings. It is not the limits themselves, as much as what we learn in facing them, that becomes who we are as people, and what meaning we bring to our own existence. And this, some angels themselves have chosen to convert and surrender themselves to, some more successfully than others, but the ultimate point between all of them is "Free Will", whether they like PBJ, sex, or good water pressure at the same time -- something that only comes from divorcing themselves from the divine spheres, when otherwise they're numb to bullets or a knife through the heart. The universe simply operates. Man experiences. The universe learns more of itself only by way of man, as man learns the universe.

There are those who fall that do not embrace humanity, but instead explore their creation. These are rogue programs, but still limited in their function. Be that angling out a line at a river, or just needling humanity as lesser ants. But these do not come to the same essence of humanity that those who choose to fall into it and truly experience it do. They still lack a great deal of motivation or purpose, as in breaking away from their programming without gaining genuine compulsion to want, to seek, to find, they find fascinations between their own strips of code that immerse themselves in, and sit, and observe, still not too unlike Anna before completely divorcing herself from her grace.

It is humanity, be it indirect or direct, that proxies the ability to experience, desire, and enjoy, and that more than anything is the nature of man and his power. It is the path of the Soul between Gevurah and Hesed; from the divine spheres descending, passive intellect and active intellect from the different pillars, and hidden higher learnings, reach by way of Spirit and Mind towards the individual self, strapped across passive and active emotion to learn the individual self. From the angle of man, in the material world, and the body as a manifestation of it, our ego, identity, and other evolutions of the mind TOWARDS the self of individuality lead from Tiferet, by path of the soul, into those emotions to climb the tree towards the divine self. Hell, I'll repost the chart so you don't have to scroll.

Castiel, the consciousness of the divine, with active spirit and mind, and intellect, descended towards the individual self within the realm of ego and super ego, and learned of them through Dean Winchester, while hedging at the sphere of emotional complexes and the identity of the self by which he chose to fall into the world and humanity, into and below and between the cross paths of the soul, and in those paths attained a soul. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, was lifted to explore the upper spheres in reverse, to understand the divine self gradually, and with time, as we now prepare to face within season 15.

Man is freedom. And some fall into it. But man can conquer the tree of his own ironic fashioning. The only absolute is what thou wills of it.

The rest is commentary.

Let there be gold. But all that is gold does not glimmer.

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #mine #pagan life #souls #angels #the fall #tree of life #spirit #mind #body #physical realm #hermeticism #qabbalah

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mamashitty · 5 years

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The Mustachio Adventure

Title: The Mustachio Adventure Fandom: Check, Please! Word Count: 2,561 Ship: N/A Find it on my AO3 & pillowfort! Blurb: Life is tough for six-year-old Maisie Zimmermann with a new baby sister. Uncle Crappy comes to the rescue though, and fiinnaallly, delivers in his promise of getting her an epic mustache of her own.

“UNCLE CRAPPY!” “CORNDOG!”

It was always a contest between Shitty and his hockey niece, Maisie, to see who could greet the loudest. Today it sounded like Maisie was the winner, her shout bordering on a screech that made Shitty’s ears want to bleed. He managed to hide his wince behind a grin and then he pretended to nearly fall over as she flung herself at him. He caught her up in a hug and spun around fast once he was done pretending to nearly topple. Her laughter was music to his ears. He planted a sloppy smooch to her cheek and laughed some more as she pulled a face and wiped her cheek.

“Gross Uncle Crappy,” and then she wriggled out of his arms and skipped towards Jack and Bitty who were piling some last-minute luggage into their car. Shitty grinned, watching the happy little family for a moment. Then he meandered towards them, his flip-flops slapping loudly on the driveway.

“Thank you for doing this for us, Crappy,” Jack said, looking a bit like he needed Shitty to put him at ease.

“Jackabelle, it is fine.”

“Camilla and I try to schedule these switches better but…”

“Jack. It is okay, brah. Besides, it will be nice just spending some time with the Corndog,” Shitty said, winking at Maisie who grinned.

“Bitty! Help me get my bags, please?” Maisie asked, and she held her hand out to Bitty, who took it and led her back inside. Shitty watched Jack who was watching Maisie and Bitty. Shitty grinned, slipping an arm around Jack’s shoulder and tugging him into a hug. Jack allowed it, and soon Shitty was giving his cheeks a sloppy smooch. Jack pulled a near-identical face to the one his daughter had given Shitty not five minutes earlier and Shitty laughed.

“Jack, relax. Maisie and I are going to have fun.”

“Thanks again, Shits. I owe—” Jack began but Shitty cut him off.

“Brah, you owe me nothing. Just have a fun weekend with your man. You are allowed it. Wanna help me get that booster seat of hers into my car?” Shitty asked, knowing it would put Jack’s mind at ease if he helped install it. Shitty knew how to install it, he had learned how to install car seats and boosters shortly after he had learned that Jack and Camilla were going to be having a kid. He had gotten himself some books on raising kids too because he knew he wanted to be the ‘swawesomest uncle in the world. But, he also knew, Jack always felt more comfortable if he did the car seat or booster install himself and Shitty was all about making him comfortable.

“Yeah, okay,” Jack said, with a nod and Shitty gave his shoulder one quick squeeze before leading the way to his car.

The booster install did not take long at all. It was a lot easier than the bulky car seat that Maisie used before the booster. Shitty held back as Maisie hugged both Jack and Bitty and said their goodbyes. Then he helped her into the booster seat, a wicked grin dancing on his face. She mirrored his grin and then tilted her head.

“Uncle Crappy….”

“Maisie-Daze…” He winked and reached over into his front seat to grab a small package he had. He handed it to her and she opened it without his prompting. Then her eyes went wide.

“Uncle Crappy! Chyeah!” She squealed in delight once she opened it. Shitty had not stopped grinning and he continued to do so as he helped remove the fake mustache and then helped affix it to her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous, but still, Shitty felt a tear come to his eye. It had taken a while to find a fake mustache that looked similar to his, and he was happy with the result. He slid his phone out from his pocket and snapped a few pictures before showing them to Maisie.

“You look ‘swawesome, Maisie.”

Maisie had a very intense and serious expression on her face as she looked over the photos of her with the mustache. Then she looked away from the phone and grinned.

“I look like you, Uncle Crappy! ‘Swawesome!”

Shitty blinked. Surprised by how choked up those words made him feel. He ruffled up Maisie’s hair before taking his phone back and sliding it into his pocket. Then he climbed into the front seat and buckled himself up. He was keeping an eye on Maisie until after dinner time. His plan was to take her to the mall for some exploring, shopping, and dinner. The drive to the mall was nice and the was filled with chatter and singing along horribly to the random music that played on the radio. Neither Shitty nor Maisie knew the lyrics to most of the songs, but they made up their own.

“Where to first, Maisie?” Shitty asked once he helped Maisie down from her seat. Her mustache was still affixed to her face.

“Food!” Maisie exclaimed, grinning.

It was technically a little too late for lunch and too early for a dinner... Shitty looked thoughtful for a moment and then decided on some pretzels.

“How does a big pretzel sound?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he watched Maisie. She said nothing, only nodded her head up and down excitedly. Shitty laughed and keeping a firm grip on her hand, led the way from the car into the mall.

The two of them were seated on a bench, people watching and eating a big pretzel.

“Uncle Crappy, how do you not get food in your ‘stache all the time? This is kind of annoying,” Maisie explained, with a pout.

“I do get food in it all the time and drinks. You just have to clean it up after,” Shitty replied and he handed Maisie a clean napkin. She took the napkin, huffed out a sigh, and wiped her face. Shitty was impressed that the fake ‘stache stayed on her while she did that. He noticed that people would do double-takes when they noticed Maisie had a mustache on her face but no one had said anything yet, and Maisie did not seem to notice. Shitty never cared what people thought of himself and what he wore or at times was not wearing, but he did have a protective streak when it came to his friends and definitely when it came to Maisie. He did not want anyone saying anything negative to her just because she wanted to don a sweet mustache.

“Uncle Crappy?” Maisie asked, her voice soft and maybe a touch insecure sounding.

Shitty was unable to stop the frown that crossed his face, “What is it, Maisie?”

“Is it... I just—…” Maisie frowned and crumpled up the napkin she had used to wipe her face in her little hand.

Shitty said nothing and waited, giving Maisie all the time she needed to figure out what she wanted to say. To get her words in order. She looked equal parts frustrated and maybe a little sad too. It broke his heart. He gave her a gentle nudge on the shoulder as the silence lapsed between them for a few seconds. She huffed out a sigh, and sighing was such a strange thing to witness from a six-year-old.

“Nora is really annoying,” she finally said. “All she does is cry, Uncle Crappy. She can sit up now on her own, and that is cool. Mom thinks she wants to crawl and might soon, and I think that will be ‘swawesome but… she just cries so much.” Maisie said, and there was a faint quiver to her voice that he could just hear her fighting. He reached an arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his side, giving her a squeeze.

“She can’t talk, Maisie. She can’t use words, crying is how she tells your Mom, Steve, and you that she needs something,” Shitty explained and he noticed that Maisie rolled her eyes at that. Ouch, that eye roll kind of hurt.

“I know, Uncle Crappy. But… sometimes she just seems to cry for no reason and nothing can make her happy,” Maisie said, “and that is annoying.” The last bit she said with more than a hint of defiance.

“Everything is so new to her, Maze. Do you get sad for no reason sometimes?” He asked, gently. “Don’t you sometimes cry too when you are frustrated or annoyed? Scared? That is a lot of emotions for a baby.” Shitty had no idea if babies really felt emotions at all or not, but he had to assume they did to some extent. He was suddenly struck with how hard being a baby probably was. He also found himself worrying that maybe he was approaching Maisie’s concerns the wrong way. He did not want to invalidate her annoyance because she had every right to be annoyed. Crying babies were annoying, he had first-hand experience with that from when Maisie had been a baby. She had not said anything and he noticed she was pouting underneath that faux mustache of hers.

“Maisie, it is okay to be annoyed by your sister and to find her annoying,” Shitty said, abruptly changing tactic as he was pretty positive now that he had said the wrong thing before. That he had approached it all wrong. “It will get better, though. She’ll find ways to tell you what she needs, and she’ll start talking, too.”

“I wish she could talk now. And… play with me better,” Maisie explained, and there was a definite sniffle there.

Ugh. Shitty’s heart felt like it was snapping in two at that noise. He gave her another tight squeeze, and then he brought up his hand to mess up her hair some. Maisie let out an indignant squeak and squirmed away from him.

“Soon, she will be able to play better,” Shitty said, knowing that that soon would probably feel like a lifetime to someone as young as a six-year-old.

“Can we go to the toy store?” Maisie asked, suddenly and Shitty blinked at the abrupt change of mood and topic. Again, he felt uncertain, wondering if maybe he should try to continue the conversation they had just been on or if he should follow Maisie’s lead and change course. He doubted he would force any of his adult friends to stay on topic if they really wanted to change it. Maybe with some issues, but certainly not with all.

“Chyeah, let’s go to the toy store,” he said, climbing to his feet and exaggerating how difficult it was. Maisie giggled at him. They tossed their napkins in a trash-bin and Maisie took his hand again for the walk to the toy store.

They had been in the toy store for about ten minutes when Shitty noticed a little boy approaching Maisie. He was taller than her but looked to be the same age. It as difficult for Shitty to guess the ages of kids, each year he was astounded by how small his fifth-graders actually were at the start of the school year. Shitty continued to read the back of the box he had been looking at but keeping half an eye on Maisie and the new kid.

“Why do you have that on your face?” The kid asked, and Shitty decided that he did not like his tone.

Maisie looked up from the two toys she had been comparing, “I want to look like my Uncle Crappy.” And the way she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Fuck yes!

The kid now looked towards Shitty, who gave him a wave. Then he went back to looking at Maisie.

“Oh,” he said. “That is weird.”

Maisie shrugged her shoulders, “weird is okay.”

“Does it itch?” The kid asked half a second later, and Shitty began to relax as Maisie stopped looking at the two toys she was comparing and answered the kid’s question. He kept close to two of them, vaguely wondering where the boy’s parents were. Maisie and the kid, whose name turned out to be Benton, had a pretty civil conversation. Even if Benton sometimes made comments that Shitty thought were a little douchey for a six-year-old, or maybe seven-year-old. Benton’s parents showed up, not too long into the conversation, but they did nothing to interrupt it. They did keep staring at Maisie and her sick ‘stache.

“This is Maisie,” Benton said after he noticed his parents. “She wants to look like her Uncle Crappy.”

“Uncle… Crappy…?” The Mom questioned.

Shitty held out his hand, “That’s me. Nice to meetcha,” if handshakes could be awkward then that handshake was. Benton’s parents shooed him away after the introductions, and Maisie went back to looking over the two toys, a frown on her face.

“Which one do you think Nora would like the most?” She asked, holding them up.

“The Fox,” Shitty said, pointing to it. She stared at the fox for a few seconds before nodding her head in agreement. They went to pay for the fox and a toy that Shitty picked out for Maisie. He kept thinking back to Benton and his family, and the way they had been staring at Maisie. She had not seemed to notice, though. Or if she had, it had not bothered her. His hockey niece was a total badass.

It was a little after six when he dropped Maisie off with Camilla and Steve. Maisie had kept her ‘stache on all throughout dinner. She kept up a lively conversation, too. Shitty had enjoyed himself, not that he was surprised. He always had a good time with his Corndog.

“Mom! Like my sick ‘stache?” Maisie asked as soon as Shitty had helped her out of the car. She went barreling for Camilla, who deftly handed the baby off to Steve, so she could scoop Maisie up in a hug.

“I love it, Maisie.” She said, laughing. Maisie then reached around to fistbump Steve, who also confirmed that he liked it.

Maisie then began to stare at her sister and her sister stared right back.

“I think Nora likes it too,” Maisie said after a second, and then she wriggled out of her mom’s arms and ran back to Shitty. He gave her a hug before handing off the gift she had bought Nora.

“I got Nora a present,” she said, all serious as can be.

“Well, why don’t you and Steve go inside and give Nora the present?” Camilla asked, smiling. Maisie nodded her head and ran into the house with Steve trailing after her, after saying a hasty goodbye to Shitty.

“Shitty, thanks again.” Camilla said, “Jack and I try to be good with the hand—…”

Shitty held his hand up, “Camilla, it is okay. I told that to Jack earlier. I love spending time with Maisie. She was ‘swawesome today.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get her to take that mustache off for days,” Camilla said with a laugh.

“I have a whole stockpile if she ever needs more,” Shitty explained, grinning. He then gave Camilla a hug, before unhooking the booster seat for her.

Being an uncle was fucking awesome, and Shitty, he loved it. He could not wait for his next adventure with Maisie the Corndog.

#omgcp #shitty knight #omgcp fic #a.shitty writes #a.shitty fics #adventures with uncle shitty

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intim3ate · 5 years

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Bendoverwatch Kink Week - Day 1: Public Sex | “Payback” | McAshe

McCree's spent months working this undercover mission, and Ashe's sudden appearance threatens to ruin everything he's done so far. Fortunately for him, she plans to keep his secret... but not without a little something in return.

Written for

Bendoverwatch @ Pillowfort's Kink Week

. Opened up Ko-Fi commissions for it and one of the requested fics was for Public Sex with McAshe. So that's what I did!

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Leave a Tip?

Of all the people that could have been sent to sign this arms deal, McCree had really hoped it wouldn't be anyone he knew. New blood was welcome blood, as far as he was concerned.

He hadn’t wanted to be sent on this mission in the first place. McCree had spent the last few months infiltrating an arms manufacturing company that had some sticky involvement in black market deals. He’d managed to fake his way into the company’s inner circle by giving them information about gangs that were heavily involved in trafficking, and when the company inevitably met up with these gangs, McCree would pass on the information to Overwatch. It had resulted in a few busts, and he was proud of the work, but as with all good things, it seemed it would soon have to come to an end.

There were a hundred and one reasons not to pick McCree to sign this deal with the Deadlock Gang - the first and foremost being that he was a wanted man in Deadlock Gorge, both by the authorities and the Deadlock gang itself. As a former member of said gang and the only one who had defected and lived to tell the tale, there were more than a few friends from the old days looking to pay him back for all the trouble he'd caused. And if they had their way, he'd be paying with his head.

The remaining hundred reasons for why he hadn't wanted to be chosen for the mission all stemmed from that first one in some way or another. And even then, the root of all those reasons was one person whose company McCree would rather have avoided, and whose company he was now currently enjoying: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe.

It was just his luck that Ashe herself would be the one in charge of this. McCree supposed he should have expected it; it was a big damn deal, and Ashe had a bit of a controlling streak in her. Good for the gang, not so good for her lackeys, and certainly not good for Jesse McCree.

When she had stepped into the room, heels clacking and tail of her coat swaying, it had taken everything in McCree not to curse under his breath. He tried not to make eye contact with her, but he’d heard the slight falter in her steps and looked anyway. Ashe’s eyes were locked on him, a smirk tugging at the corners of her bright red lips. McCree glared back at her, and the first chance he got, he raised his finger to his lips: don’t say a damn word.

Ashe had almost laughed at him, but thankfully, she still had some scrap of self-control in her, and she’d turned away to talk to the big boss. She hit it off with him immediately, and when the deal was done and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders to invite her and the gang for a drink, Ashe had turned and looked smugly at McCree over her shoulder. He knew, then, that he’d be paying for this dearly.

And paying for it he is.

Through the evening, Ashe has slowly inched closer and closer to McCree. They sit near each other in a large bar booth as everyone involved in the arms deal chats, drinks, and celebrates together. McCree’s been tense throughout, just waiting for his cover to be blown either by Ashe or one of her underlings. He’s pretty sure Bob won’t say anything, but the way the large omnic keeps looking over at him and Ashe is setting him on edge. Something’s going to happen, he’s sure of it.

He doesn’t expect that something to be her hand in his lap, though.

“Oh, yeah, started this gang here over twenty years ago now,” Ashe purrs at the boss. “Gone from small-town troublemaking to one of the most lucrative businesses in the west. Pretty impressive, gotta say. But I can’t take all the credit.” She grins toothily and slides her hand up the inside of McCree’s thigh to rest over his fly. “Had a bit of help gettin’ started.”

She squeezes. McCree’s breath comes out through his nose more strained, but he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t indicate at all that Ashe is touching him or that he’s affected by it. He knows she can feel it, though; his dick twitches under her hand and she slowly begins to massage it, coaxing it to life under her skilled fingers.

McCree tunes out of the conversation entirely in favour of pretending to sip his whiskey. He’s been careful not to drink at all tonight for fear of letting his guard down around Ashe. He’s wanted to drink, sure; so, so bad, to reduce the stress of worrying about blowing his cover and then having to blow the heads off everyone he’d spent months trying to work up a rapport with, but he’s held fast. Jesse McCree can show some self-restraint when he wants to.

Ashe has seemed to have a similar idea. She’s faked drinking all night too, calling for rounds of shots and new drinks to be passed around among everyone, but never partaking herself. She’s mimed drinking a few times, but McCree’s seen her slide her shot glass along the table discretely to someone else and then point out they’ve still got a drink waiting. It’s clever, really, and McCree would be impressed if he wasn’t so wary.

He puts the glass down as Ashe takes his zipper between her fingers and pulls it down. McCree is hard now, and the bit of extra room is welcome, but he feels an acute heat in his face as he realizes what’s going on.

“What are you doing?” he hisses at her as soon as the guy she’d been speaking to turns to talk to someone else. Ashe just purses her lips and hums.

“Well, I’d think that was obvious. I’m havin’ myself a bit of little fun.”

McCree’s eyes narrow. “Wouldn’t you rather take this somewhere else?”

“Nope.” Ashe smiles up at him, all sugar and venom. There’s nothing cute or charming about it at all despite the effect she’s trying to create. “I’m already keepin’ one secret for you. Why not add another to the list?”

It’s her way of saying ‘let me do this or I’m telling everyone about you,’ but somehow, McCree doesn’t find himself minding too much. He can’t deny that Ashe looks good for her age, and the cut of that tight leather vest frames and hugs her figure in all the right ways. He’s been trying to ignore how damn good she looks all night (he doesn’t want to make matters more complicated than they already are), but now that she’s not giving him much choice, he decides to bask in it a little. It’s not every night a pretty woman (who admittedly probably hates his guts) decides she’s going to give him a handjob under the table.

He’s already long past admitting he’s had fantasies like this about her back when he was a teenager. That was back when they were both young and stupid, though, not now that they’re older and more experienced and, he’d thought, more mature. But that’s part of what makes this exciting - they ain’t kids anymore, so they can’t get away with this if they get caught.

But McCree has no intention of getting caught.

Ashe pulls his cock free and strokes it lovingly, wrapping her long, slender fingers around it and running them over the head. McCree suppresses a shudder and lets her continue, encouraging her with a low hum in the back of his throat. Ashe takes the hint and grips tighter.

He shuffles up closer to the table to better hide what she’s doing. Ashe follows, intent on stroking him to full hardness. She does, easily, and McCree is a little bit embarrassed at how easy it is to get him so worked up so fast. He doesn't mind too much, though, not when Ashe is doing such a good job.

She smears precum over the tip of his dick as another of McCree's temporary associates joins them at the table. He leers at Ashe, looking her up and down, and McCree feels a twinge of smug satisfaction. He may be checking Ashe out, but McCree is the one getting jerked off by her under the table.

“You got somethin’ to say to me?” Ashe asks, leaning forward toward the man. The hand that isn't squeezing and stroking McCree under the table comes to rest under her chin. She bats her eyelashes.

“Just admiring your beauty,” the man says, like he really thinks this will win Ashe over. McCree almost laughs; he knows she's smarter than that.

“You don't say?” With a giggle, Ashe shifts forward, subtly moving even closer to McCree. It's the fakest sound McCree has ever heard, but one of the better attempts he's seen from her to do one thing while pretending to do another. As interested in their new drinking buddy as she seems, Ashe is just using him as an excuse to get what she really wants.

The man chuckles and leans forward. “May I buy you a drink?”

“Go on then.”

He gets up and leaves the two of them alone. As soon as his back is turned, Ashe lifts her hand off McCree's cock, spits in it, and puts it right back where it was so she can stroke it more smoothly.

“Classy,” McCree grunts sarcastically. “Thought you were gonna stop for a sec there.”

“Shut up, McCree,” Ashe says.

That's all the time they have to talk; as soon as she says that, the man comes back with another drink, this time some red cocktail in a fancy-looking glass. McCree doesn't know or care what it is. Ashe takes it and pretends to drink, but sets it down again without a drop of it passing her lips.

They chat for a bit, Ashe and the European man (fuck if McCree can remember exactly where he’s from), and the more they talk, the harder Ashe works to get McCree off. Her hand and arm are working fast enough now McCree is shocked that the businessman hasn't noticed what she's doing.

But Ashe stops all of a sudden, and it's all McCree can do not to gasp and grab her wrist to force her back to it. He'd been getting close. Did Ashe know? Was that her plan of revenge all along?

“Gettin’ a touch hot in here,” she says as she unbuttons her vest. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” the man says, nodding as he holds his hand out flat to her. She smiles and drapes it over McCree’s lap so that it covers not only her hand, but the large, dripping cock she holds in it. Her shirt has ridden up a bit, and sadly, she tugs it back down in place.

But that’s not all she does. McCree catches more movement in the corner of his eye: Ashe thumbs at her belt and undoes the latch in one swift motion. If McCree hadn’t been watching, even he might not have been able to notice. The man sitting across from them certainly hasn’t; his eyes are firmly in place on Ashe’s chest now that it’s free of the tight leather that had been restraining it.

The man licks his lips and finally moves his eyes back up to Ashe. “You are right; it is getting hot in here,” he says. “Perhaps we should relocate? If you do not have plans for the rest of the night…”

Ashe grins like the cat that got the canary. “Sorry, partner, but it just so happens that I do,” she says, and all at once her arms are around McCree’s neck and she’s pulling herself into his lap. McCree can very acutely feel the warm outline of her pussy drag against his exposed cock; it twitches, desperate to get inside her. He licks his too-dry lips, and Ashe continues: “Your bodyguard here’s already made me an offer, and I’d hate to pass him up. He asked so nice, too.” Her voice is a low, smug purr, too close to McCree’s ear. McCree just laughs, more breathless than he’d like, and shrugs.

The man looks put-out, but he doesn’t protest. “You are a lucky man,” he says before graciously taking his leave. McCree glances at Ashe out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t know about that,” he says, and Ashe grinds down on him just right. That’s more than enough to quiet him a moment.

“Thought I told you to shut your mouth,” Ashe says. “So shut it. You owe me.”

He supposes he does, and he’s more than happy to repay this particular debt. A hand comes down to rest over the curve of Ashe’s hip, and she smirks. “That’s more like it,” she says. Then, without warning, she reaches down and tugs her pants - and panties - down far enough that McCree can feel her slide wetly over his exposed cock.

“What the hell d’you think you’re doing?” he asks, head darting around in a panic in case anyone’s looking in their general direction, but Ashe just silences him with a roll of her hips and a finger to his lips.

“We ain’t gonna get caught,” she assures him, and McCree doesn’t believe her for a second. “Just keep quiet and everything’ll be fine. Ashe is gonna take good care of you, baby.”

She slides over him again, her dripping pussy leaving a slick line over his cock before she reaches down between the two of them and guides it to her hole. Ashe takes him in greedily, fluttering around McCree’s cock with every inch she takes. Her breathing is remarkably controlled, but even Ashe can’t stop herself from shuddering and biting her lip when McCree finally bottoms out inside her.

“Jesus. Didn’t realize you were so damn big.”

“What, can’t handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle it. I’ve had bigger.”

If McCree wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was lying to him, his ego would have been a little bruised. He decides not to say anything, though, in case Ashe suddenly changes her mind. And she’s too tight, too perfect around him for McCree to risk that right now.

“You okay down there, cowboy?” Ashe sneers. “‘Cause you’re takin’ an awfully long time to get started.”

McCree grabs her hips again and leans his head on her shoulder. “Just tryin’ to enjoy the moment,” he says.

“Well quit takin’ so long! Just hurry up and fuck me, Jesse. Or should I go ask that nice gentlemen to wait up after all?”

“Like hell.” McCree considers messing with her a little more, but opts this time to do as Ashe asks and get right down to business. He doesn’t move much; he rocks his hips back and forth, feeling his cock move inside her and hitting her deepest walls without even trying. Ashe bites down a gasp when he brushes against something sensitive, and McCree makes sure to hit that spot again and again and again.

Ashe trembles in his hold. She takes her vest and covers the two of them up, trying to hide the fact that they’re fucking in the middle of a semi-crowded bar, and McCree can’t help but laugh. “Don’t you think the damage has been done?” he asks.

“Nobody’s said nothin’ yet,” Ashe snaps right back, and she grinds down against him, practically bucking her hips and driving his cock as deep inside as it could go. “And I need you to go harder, damn it.”

“Suit yourself,” McCree says. His hands come up from her hips, one taking her wrists and yanking her arms behind her back, and the other one settles around the back of her neck. He presses down on either side of it with his thumb and forefinger and Ashe really does gasp this time.

“Shut up,” McCree says lazily, lips curving up and painting his words in cheerful, ribbing tones. Ashe clicks her tongue, clearly not happy that he’s mocking her, and McCree’s grin grows. Now this is more like it.

Ashe flexes her kegels, clamping down around McCree’s cock, and grinds against him hard again. The movement catches McCree by surprise and he sputters. Pleased, Ashe moves against him again, rolling her hips sinfully. She works him hard and she works him good, and soon McCree is coming inside her, fingers tightening involuntarily.

The pressure must have been the last thing Ashe needed to come, because as McCree rides out his orgasm, he distantly feels her clench around him even harder, and he isn’t sure if it’s her ejaculate or his he feels gushing around him. He hopes none of it gets on either of their pants, but he supposes if it does, he can just knock over a glass of whiskey and blame the wet stain on that. The idea grows on him when he realizes how much it’d piss Ashe off to have to clean whiskey off herself.

He doesn’t have to worry about it, though. Ashe climbs off him a moment later and cleans them both off with bar napkins before crumpling them up and stuffing them in an empty glass. She tucks McCree back into his pants and he gasps, still oversensitive. He watches lazily as she hastily re-zips her own fly, then he mimics her action and sits up straight, ready to pretend like none of this ever happened (but equally ready to remember this experience every lonely night he has for the rest of his life).

“We done here?” he asks. Ashe smirks at him, her eyes roving up and down her body as she leers at him.

“For now,” she says. “But I told that gentleman over there you planned to take me home tonight. I expect you not to make a liar out of me, you hear?” She winks at him and stands, seeing herself out of the booth.

McCree laughs. He raises a hand to his mouth and calls after her: “You wish!”

#mcashe #overwatch #jesse mccree #elizabeth caledonia ashe #commissions #ko-fi commissions #r: e #fanfic

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ncfan-1 · 5 years

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Little Secrets

Celepharn had learned much during her fosterage in Imladris, and yet, somehow, she had learned absolutely nothing of Hobbits. [Written for the Legendarium Ladies April 3rd general prompt, ‘Secrets.’]

[Also on AO3 | Dreamwidth | Pillowfort]

Continuing my yearly tradition of doing a fic for one of the royal line of Arnor that I head canon (based on the gender-neutral names) as a woman. This time it’s Celepharn, one of the rulers of Arthedain.

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Celepharn had learned much during her fosterage in Imladris. That was hardly unusual; Master Elrond was a diligent teacher, and he and his family strove to ensure that their royal wards left their care more enlightened than they had entered it. What would have been very strange would be if Celepharn had not left Imladris more learned than she had entered it. It would have signaled a highly uncharacteristic laxity on the part of the teacher—or, more likely, signaled serious inattention on the part of the student.

Celepharn had learned much during her time in Imladris, and yet, somehow, she had never heard even the softest whisper regarding the Periannath.

“Ah, Mistress Gildis,” called the woman so small that if Celepharn hadn’t known her to have a good forty years to her name, she would have thought her a young child. “Good. I was hoping you’d be back soon. Did you find what I asked for?”

Right to the point, was Rosemary. Ah, well. So was Celepharn. Neither of them had much, if any, use for small talk that didn’t achieve some end greater than itself. Celepharn hopped down from the wagon she had been driving and walked round to the back. “I did indeed. She patted one of the sacks piled in the back of the wagon. “Seeds for planting. Wheat, turnip, carrot, tomato, pumpkin, potato. I also—“ Celepharn took a sturdy woolen pouch from her belt, wherein there were several, smaller pouches “—have seeds for fruit trees and bushes. Apple and blackberry, mostly, but I was able to get some mulberry and chestnut as well.”

Rosemary’s brown eyes lit up. “Fantastic! Thank you, Mistress Gildis.” She laughed ruefully, wringing her apron with her reddened, slightly sweaty hands. “We had seeds of our own, but I’m afraid the animals got into them, and we would’ve been in a tight spot without something to replace it all with.”

“I can imagine.”

She had never heard of the Periannath, not so much as a whisper, before they had come to the attention of Arthedain’s border guards. None of her people knew just where they had come from, and the Periannath themselves had been decidedly vague on that point. They had scattered upon reaching Arthedain and being accepted there by Celepharn’s father, most of them integrating into Dúnedain communities. But there were some communities, such as the one Rosemary here had established near Amon Sûl, that was entirely Periannath in makeup, no Men to be seen anywhere within the confines of the new, slowly growing village.

Next was to get the sacks to what served as the village’s storehouse. For this, Celepharn’s help was needed, for though the Periannath were a hardy people, they were a little people, and the sacks were rather too large for them to maneuver over long distances. Someone came running up with a wheelbarrow, and that expedited the process considerably.

Once the storehouse was reached, Celepharn was obliged to wait outside, watching as the Periannath either wheeled the sacks inside, or struggled to carry them in themselves. For one thing, the buildings had been built to accommodate people of the Periannath’s size; Celepharn would have had to crawl on her hands and her knees to get through the door. What was more, the Periannath had excavated their homes and shops and official buildings directly into the heather-carpeted hillsides, and Celepharn would have been obliged also to remain on her hands and knees once within. And there was the matter of keeping from breaking any of the belongings found therein; that would not be conducive to building or maintaining friendly relations.

So Celepharn took a seat with her back pressed to the side of the hill, the soft heather tickling the back of her neck. After a few minutes, Rosemary came and joined her, sighing gustily and clicking her feet, bare of shoes and covered on the top by an odd carpeting of thick, curly brown hair, together, over and over again.

“You know, Mistress Gildis,” Rosemary said, very casually, “I do wonder about you, sometimes.”

“Oh?” The sky was very blue this day, though there was a tint of gray towards the south.

“Yes. You always seem to have what I ask you to bring me, no matter what it is.”

“You haven’t asked me for anything that would be prohibitive,” Celepharn pointed out easily.

“You have a funny definition of ‘prohibitive’; I don’t know anyone who could have brought us as many seeds as you have, so quickly.” Rosemary raised an eyebrow, looked Celepharn up and down. Almost teasingly, “You’re not some kind of robber queen, are you?”

A spate of startled laughter escaped Celepharn’s mouth, high-pitched and bubbling in her throat. “No, Rosemary, no robber queen am I.” She tried to imagine what her parents would have thought of her being a robber queen, or what Master Elrond and Lady Celebrían would have thought about it, and she laughed again. “I am simply a Dúnadan who knows how to get ahold of needed supplies.”

Being a princess whose father approved of her efforts to care for the vulnerable in their kingdom certainly helped. Rosemary didn’t need to know that. It would make things rather awkward if the Periannath of this village knew just who their benefactor was; Celepharn didn’t want that.

She could imagine, though, coming here again when she was queen. Rosemary, by then old and gray, would come out of her home in the side of the hill and exclaim, “Aha! I knew you for a robber queen the moment I saw you! Where else could you have gotten that finery from?”

Or gray, maybe, but not old. Not old the way the Men of Rhovanion grew old. Not even old the way the Dúnedain grew old. The Periannath were intriguing, in this. Celepharn saw many in this village alone with gray hair and faces carved deep with wrinkles. Their eyes were still bright, though. Not the starry brightness of the Dúnedain, but the energetic brightness of a child who had yet to grow weary of the world. No matter how old the Perian, they did not, to Celepharn’s eyes, ever appear weary. Tired after a long day’s work, but never weary.

“If you have questions,” Celepharn remarked, “I have questions, too.”

“Oh? And what are they?”

“Where did you all come from?” That seemed, to Celepharn, a perfectly innocent question. “I’ve never heard a satisfactory answer to the question, and no one in Arthedain had ever heard of the Periannath before you came over the Hithaeglir.”

Rosemary’s face froze, but only for a moment, before she was back to her genial self. “We don’t really come from much of anywhere.” She waved her hand lazily. “We’re wanderers.” Never mind how quickly this village’s people had taken to sedentary life. “Wanderers who decided at last to settle down. And you may find yourself dealing with more of us before long.”

“Will we?” Her father would want to know about that.

“Oh, yes.” Rosemary’s eyes lit up as they did whenever she had a tale to tell. “My people are the Harfoots—“ she grimaced suddenly “—or Harfeet; Viola keeps harping on about it’s really ‘Harfeet.’ But there are two other kinds of Hobbits out there, and I think they meant to follow us.

“The Fallohides are taller than us, and rather more adventurous, to boot. You’ll know them when you see them, for they’ve all got golden hair. The Stoors…” Rosemary tapped her chin with her forefinger “…now, the Stoors are a little odd. They like water much more than a Hobbit should, and they wear boots when the ground’s all down with mud, if you can believe it.” Rosemary wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I certainly can’t. The men even grow beards sometimes.”

“Dúnedain men don’t grow beards until they’re very old,” Celepharn offered.

“Well, that makes them a little like us, though the similarities die off pretty quick. Anyways—“ Rosemary clapped Celepharn’s knee “—you can expect a lot more Hobbits showing up and requesting your, ahem, ‘expertise.’”

Celepharn smiled. “I look forward to it.”

The Bëorians had come over the Ered Luin first. Then, the Hadorians, tall and golden-haired. Then, the Haladin, who had always been rather different from the other two. A well-trodden story was primed to play out again, and as far as Celepharn was concerned, the least the Dúnedain could do was endeavor to be as good a steward to the Periannath as the Elves had been to the Edain.

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Edain—Men of the three houses (the Houses of Bëor, Hador and Haleth) who were faithful to the Elves throughout the First Age; after the War of Wrath they were gifted with the land of Númenor and became known as the Dúnedain; after the Akallabêth they established Arnor and Gondor (singular: Adan) (Sindarin) Ered Luin—“The Blue Mountains” (Sindarin); the mountain range at the far western border of Eriador, that in the Years of the Trees and the First Age served as the border between Eriador and Beleriand. It was also known as the Ered Lindon, the Mountains of the Land of the Singers, Lindon being a name given to the region of the Ossiriand by the Ñoldor, derived from the Nandorin Lindānā. Fallohide—the least numerous of the three kindreds of the Hobbits. Fallohides tended to be taller and slimmer than other Hobbits; they tended (though weren’t always) to be fair-haired and fair-skinned. Fallohides were regarded as being bolder and more curious than Harfoots or Stoors, and tended to be better hunters than they were farmers. Of the three kindreds, they were the friendliest with the Elves. Harfoot—the most numerous of the three kindreds of the Hobbits. Harfoots were shorter than Fallohides or Stoors, and it was they who first instituted the custom of living in smials, specially fashioned Hobbit-holes tunneled into the earth. Of the three kindreds, they were the friendliest with the Dwarves. Hithaeglir—the Misty Mountains (Sindarin); the mountain range separating Eriador and Rhovanion, the largest mountain range in Middle-Earth; first raised by Morgoth to hinder Oromë in his hunting of Morgoth’s creatures Periannath—‘Halflings’; the class plural form of ‘Perian,’ the Sindarin name for the Hobbits (singular: Perian) (plural: Periain) (Sindarin) Stoor—one of the three kindreds of the Hobbits. The Stoors tended towards being heavier and broader than Harfoots or Fallohides, and were in possession of large hands and feet. Uniquely among Hobbits, Stoors normally grew facial hair. The Stoors traditionally lived in flatlands and near rivers, and were the only kindred of Hobbits who had much to do with the water. Of the three kindreds, they were the friendliest with Men.

#Tolkien #The Silmarillion #The Lord of the Rings #Fanfic #Legendarium Ladies April #LLA 2019 #Celepharn #Original character

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fleur-tea · 5 years

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Some links other than Tumblr

All right, so everyone is freaking out about the Tumblr purge, which given how sfw blogs are also being targeted, I understand.

As for me, other than tumblr, all I really have is my Twitter (@fleur_tea) and more recently Pillowfort. Unfortunately, I mainly had used my twitter to retweet art I liked rather than actual communication, and barely used my PF, which the site is shutting on and off due to traffic so... yeah.

In short, I’ll keep this blog for now since most of my stuff is sfw (barring maybe a few joke posts), but at the moment if anyone wants to follow me elsewhere, there are some extra links.

~*~

Pillowfort seems to be a good alternative though it seems to running into a lot of traffic issues (and just after a security issue too, so it’s down a lot atm). With those of you who are unfamiliar with it, it’s based off of what Livejournal used to be and seems pretty cool, if not basic (there’s not currently a way to customize blogs, etc.). There’s still a lot of things to work out on the site, but the people running it seem sincere, they just need more time to work things out.

Dreamwidth (again a similar layout to Livejournal) and Wordpress (This is the online platform -- the software itself is on Wordpress.org; you can read the differences HERE) have been around longer and are more established, but I never could get into myself, though it might be worth another look.

For fanworks specifically, there’s Archive of Our Own, which is fantastic, but again it is more of an archive than a community based website.

I’ve recently heard of mastodon.social, which seems promising but I honestly can’t say anything about it; literally just learned about it an hour or so ago. From first glance, it looks similar to Twitter, but who knows? [EDIT] So there’s mixed views about this website because of the way it is laid out, so maybe stay clear of it for now.

#fleur personal #edited it a bit #I'll reblog this a few times but unless this blog gets erased #I'll probably keep it #but I'm sort of active on Twitter #and will be more active on PF once the site is stable #might make a dreamwidth account #we'll see

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housebeleren · 5 years

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The Rare & Mythic Cycles in Throne of Eldraine

Throne of Eldraine previews have finally wrapped up, so it’s time to start taking a look at all the cards and seeing where they are likely to have impact. One thing I love to do is start with the major cycles in a new set, and rank them by format. So let’s take a look at the main cycles in Throne of Eldraine and see what we’ve got to work with!

Art: John Avon

Mythic Colored Artifacts

The big Mythic cycle is an Artifact for each color that represents the most valuable relic possessed by each Kingdom. Each one is expensive, but has a cost reduction mechanic that makes the card cheaper by having lots of something that Kingdom/color cares about (White: Creatures, Blue: Spells cast, Black: Dead Creatures, Red: Attacking Creatures, Green: Big Creatures). Then, each one has effects that tie into the same theme. Let’s check out each one by relevance:

Limited

The Circle of Loyalty - I feel like this might be a bit controversial at first, but I would absolutely expect The Circle of Loyalty to be a limited bomb. I’m comparing it to Ethereal Absolution, which isn’t identical, but shares a lot in common. It’s a 6 drop anthem effect, to start. But while Absolution weakens the opponents’ board too, Circle of Loyalty is easier to cast and will not be at all difficult to get out for 4 or even 3 mana. Then, the creatures it pumps out are even bigger, and doesn’t require exiling a creature from a graveyard to do so. All told, I think it’s going to overperform and end games. You should run this.

Embercleave - Again, the lower starting casting cost is a huge benefit here. And, once again, the hurdle to jump through is super minor, and it should be super easy to get this out for 4 mana. Compare it to Uncaged Fury, a fantastic combat trick. If you can cast this for 3, it’s strictly better because the buff sticks around, and that is worth an extra 1-2 mana anyway. I’d basically always run this.

The Great Henge - The starting cost on this is much higher than the first two, and it’s unlikely you’ll get too much of a discount. But, it does make mana right away, so if you can cast this for 5 or 6, and then immediately play a 2 drop with it, that’s a pretty good turn and not at all unreasonable. And from there, it’ll just keep creating value.

The Cauldron of Eternity - This one has the heftiest starting cost, but will become significantly cheaper as the game goes on. Once you land it, it is a powerful value engine. The only reason I put it this low is that it’s completely unplayable in the early or even mid game, which means it’s quite possible you’ll be killed while it sits dead in your hand.

The Magic Mirror - This is the only one I think is basically limited-unplayable. Compare it to The Immortal Sun. I’d much rather have that suite of abilities for a guaranteed 6 mana than this that does literally nothing for a full turn.

Constructed

The Cauldron of Eternity - This may be optimistic, but I absolutely think this has a home in Standard as a creature-based finisher. You’ll quickly out-value your opponent once this hits the field.

The Great Henge - Ghalta decks may be rotating out, but this card is a huge incentive for Green stompy decks to keep going. It could also see a home in a Green/Blue deck that cares about the counters.

The Circle of Loyalty - Knights decks look like they’re absolutely going to be a thing in new Standard, and this is a cheap anthem and a way to pump out more relevant tokens in that build. It’s niche, but it works.

The Magic Mirror - I think control has better options, but there are decks like Izzet and Dimir that very quickly get tons of cards in their graveyards that might be able to get this down to a castable number. My only fear is that aggressive decks make this look beyond silly, and there are lots of those in the format.

Embercleave - My issue with Embercleave is that it cares about lots of creatures attacking, but only buffs one single creature. I wish it gave a buff to all attacking creatures you control or something. As it is, it fights with the decks that could run it, since they’d probably rather have another body.

Commander

The Cauldron of Eternity - Once again, the Cauldron is the king here. Recursion is amazing in EDH, and decks like Grenzo will absolutely break this.

The Great Henge - Some monogreen decks with big creatures could be into this, as well as big stompy decks like Dinos and counters decks like Ezuri or Experiment Kraj.

Embercleave - Voltron decks will like Embercleave for Double Strike & Trample to help them push through damage. Maybe something like Zurgo Helmsmasher could do good stuff with this.

The Magic Mirror - It’s really slow, but it’s a powerful effect given enough time. Maybe some turns decks or pillowfort decks could find a home for this as a way to fill up their hand, but Artifact removal is plentiful enough in the format to make me nervous.

The Circle of Loyalty - Anthem effects are always worst in EDH than in other formats, so I expect the only deck to run this is Knights tribal.

Rare Leaders

I love Legendary creatures, and this set is giving us a bunch. For this cycle, we have monocolor Legends that all cost 3 of their respective color, and has an effect that boosts that color. This heavily pushes monocolor play and will make these, on the whole, mostly aimed for Standard constructed than EDH. But let’s take a look.

Limited

Torbran, Thane of Red Fell - Hear me out on this one. First, having this as a 4 drop is actually a boon here, since it’ll be a lot easier to cast on curve at 4 than at 3. Then, barring Instant removal, he’ll have an effect on the board right away by making your existing creatures +2/+0. This is a big punch coming out of nowhere, and if he sticks around, he’s going to make your whole deck that much better.

Ayara, First of Locthwain - Ayara is more useful than she seems at first glance. Automatically granting Extort (effectively) to all your Black creatures can add up quickly, and as the game continues she can turn creatures that have outlived their usefulness into card draw. I suspect she’ll be good.

Gadwick the Wizened - It’s a bit of a tossup for me if Gadwick will actually be better than Ayara. You really want to cast him for 5 or more before he’s excellent, but even at 4 mana he’s decent. You need him to stick around to generate value, but he can run away with things if left unchecked.

Yorvo, Lord of Garenbrig - Yorvo is huge and just keeps getting bigger. That said, removal looks strong in this format, and it won’t be hard to take him out before he gets really out of control. That, and lacking Trample or other evasion, he can get blanked by chumps. We’ll have to see how the format shakes out if he’s just okay or bonkers.

Linden, the Steadfast Queen - Linden is decent, but the lifegain is pretty incremental of a bonus. If it were on attack or block, I’d be more interested, since then it wouldn’t matter if you’re on offense or defense.

Constructed

Torbran, Thane of Red Fell - Mono-Red Cavalcade is a major deck in Standard right now, and this card boosts the power of every card in that deck by 2 per hit, without actually pumping their power and breaking the strategy. That seems crazy good, and I think Cavalcade decks will jam a couple of this card right away.

Linden, the Steadfast Queen - This assessment is entirely contingent on if the lifegain deck continues to be a thing in Standard post-rotation, but if it does, this is a huge boost, and will turbopower Ajani’s Pridemates and other similar cards.

Ayara, First of Locthwain - Aristocrats decks have been on the fringes of Standard since Ravnica Allegiance, and one more outlet that also buys you time could be exactly what they need to break out.

Yorvo, Lord of Garenbrig - Mono-Green decks are losing many of their most important pieces, but there’s enough support coming in this set that I could see them piecing together some sort of a comeback.

Gadwick the Wizened - Gadwick is a decent mana sink, but there are just better options. Mass Manipulation or Hydroid Krasis are your better ramp targets, and Control has better finishers than this. I don’t think he’ll make much of a splash in Constructed unless the format changes massively.

Commander

Gadwick the Wizened - Commander, on the other hand, is an entirely different game. Mono-Blue decks will have tons of ways to abuse this. Is it better than Stroke of Genius? Maybe in some builds and not others, but just the fact that I can make the comparison bodes well.

Ayara, First of Locthwain - Ayara seems very promising. She’s a win condition and card draw all in one, which is a strong combination. There are probably better generals, but Ayara looks fun to build around, and she’ll go in the 99 of plenty of other decks.

Torbran, Thane of Red Fell - Torbran seems like an insane addition to decks like Purphoros, but could also lead his own red deck in a similar vein. There’s some promise here.

Yorvo, Lord of Garenbrig - Probably not as good as a number of other big Green stompy decks, so you’re likely to stick with Ghalta for go tall & Ezuri for go wide. But not the worst option out there.

Linden, the Steadfast Queen - Righteous Cause isn’t a great card on its own, and having a cheaper version in the Command Zone doesn’t make it much better. I doubt Linden has much EDH potential.

Rare Castles

The Rare cycle of Lands in this set are are all pretty universally great. So I’m going to do this lightning round style. Let’s go!

Limited - For Limited, Castle Embereth is probably the best, since it can close out games quickly, and Castle Ardenvale isn’t far behind. Castles Locthwain & Vantress are pretty easy ways to gain advantage, but are a bit slow so they won’t come into play in all games. Castle Garenbrig seems not amazing, but there isn’t a lot of reason not to play it, so that’s fine.

Constructed - All 5 Castles are going to see extensive Standard play, and it will mainly be the metagame that determines which is on top at any given point. Castle Garenbrig also has a ton of Modern potential, with the other 4 showing some promise in Eternal formats, but they’re less certain than the Green one. Because, y’know, Titan.

Commander - Castle Garenbrig again seems really good here, and Mono Green decks will basically all play this as a no-downside Temple of the False God. Castle Vantress seems excellent, and will be an amazing inclusion in Aminatou builds. Castle Locthwain is good, but has more downside here than in 60-card formats, and Castles Ardenvale and Embereth are going to be occasional inclusions in niche decks.

Uncommon Legendary Knights

Okay fine. I know I said the Rare & Mythic cycles, but I’m going to keep going just a bit and take a look at the two other cycles of note, starting with the cycle of Legendary Uncommon Knights. Each of these Knights exemplifies the attributes of the kingdom they’re in, and each one has potential to see plenty of play. Again, I’m going to do this lightning round style.

Limited - Basically all of these are designed for Limited play. Personally, I don’t love Syr Faren, since he is usually going to get killed early and is useless as a topdeck. Syr Carah is a flat out bomb, and the others are all above average playables.

Constructed - In Standard, things are somewhat reversed. My guess is Syr Faren is actually the most likely to to see play in various Green stompy builds. Syr Konrad and Syr Carah also have potential as 1-2 ofs in various builds. I doubt Syr Elenora and Syr Alin are unlikely to see play outside of limited.

Commander - This one’s a no-brainer. Syr Konrad the Grim is absurd in Commander, and is probably the best new Legend in the set after Emry, Lurker in the Loch. It’s beyond simple to build a deck that can go nuts with any number of pieces every mono Black deck has. Besides Syr Konrad, the Awesome, I can see Syr Carah having niche applications in mono Red decks, while the other three are unlikely to see much play.

Common Effect Lands

Last, but definitely not least, are the Common lands that have an effect when they enter the battlefield, provided you have enough of the right basic Land type in play. These effects may seem minor, but they can make the difference between winning and losing in the right circumstances. And some of them are surprisingly potent:

Limited - Mystic Sanctuary and Witch’s Cottage are pretty much on the same level of awesome here, rebuying your best threat or removal in the late game. Gingerbread Cabin is awesome in the dedicated Food deck and shouldn’t be underestimated. Dwarven Mine & Idyllic Grange are both role-players, but not up to the level of the other three.

Constructed - Here, it’s all Mystic Sanctuary, which has applications beyond Standard and into eternal formats like Modern. Buying back a Time Warp will give Modern turns decks a whole new level of consistency. In Standard, it’s likely to see play in Control decks until rotation. Witch’s Cottage will potentially see play as well in mono Black decks for some extra resilience. After those, I think it’s possible Dwarven Mine will show up in mono Red, as it does make a 1/1 that plays well with Cavalcade of Calamity. I doubt Gingerbread Cabin & Idyllic Grange will see play.

Commander - Once again, Mystic Sanctuary is the king here. It’s going to see tons of play in mono Blue decks, as well as some other builds that have combo pieces to get back. Similarly, Witch’s Cottage could work in decks that already run Mortuary Mire. As for the other three... I wouldn’t count on any of them having an impact.

So there we have it. The most impactful cycles from Throne of Eldraine. All of these have cards that are going to see play in Standard until rotation, and a few will even see play in eternal formats.

Good times.

#mtg eldraine

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