so I know I’ve been talking about Heaven as like, trenches and astronomical bodies and physical space, but that’s just because I haven’t figured out a good way to write about a heaven so removed from humanity’s experience of the world that language fails.
because my favorite thing is a heaven that isn’t a physical space, isn’t a thing the way the world is a thing, populated with beings that are also not things, so nothing occupies space and nothing occupies time they’re just math and vacuum except not because those are things and you see why I’m having problems with this.
but then you get this great idea of humanity showing up for that eternal life they were promised, and humanity is just so fucking used to three-dimensional space and experiences of time that they warp the non-universe around them and it’s all a great experiment in subjective idealism
because an angel isn’t a thing but when humanity is faced with an angel, it expects a thing and so angels are suddenly things and heaven is suddenly a place, and it’s all very confusing if you’re accustomed to existing simultaneously in twenty-six dimensions and none at all.
(humanity gives heaven weather.)
(weather. in heaven.)
so humanity goes around retooling heaven in their image of earth’s image, making things from not-things and calling it good, leaving the angels to scramble helplessly after them. (heaven was operating off newtonian mechanics for centuries, it was a nightmare. every time the angels wanted to go faster than the speed of light they had to deliberately avoid thinking about maxwell’s equations or end up slamming into a paradox.)
and anytime an angel tries to complain, god laughs.
fucking creators, man.
A box filled with apples was pulled out from…somewhere,and handed over to Dean. “New Zeland is on a different seasonal pattern than America. So here.”
Dean stared at the box for a long moment before accepting it, debating internally whether he wanted to know just where the angel had hidden the strange gift. Perhaps wisely, he decided that was a secret best kept among angels. “Uhm— thanks, Cas? What’s the occasion?”
"You enjoy apple pie, correct? Well now you have the key component to make some. And there is no occasion. Today is simply the best day for harvesting in New Zealand. I have quite a few different things .Oranges, peaches, blueberries- I figured apples would suit you best though. Oh, even though you din’t pick it.." Castiel trailed off as he pulled out a jar of honey from (thankfully) the pocket of his coat. He placed it on top of the apples in the box.
*Impatient huff.* Just pick one.
“Someone’s in a mood,” Dean grumbles. “Fine. Apples.”
A box filled with apples was pulled out from…somehwere,and handed over to Dean. “New Zeland is on a different seasonal pattern than America. So here.”
Well fuck if he didnt want to believe the guy on all accounts. With a shrug and a grunt, he followed, “Fine, whatever you say, angel.”
"Please, just call me Cas. Angel is what things usually call me when they are about to try and kill me." There was a somber moment as Castiel opened the door and stepped aside for Dean. "Here it is."
"Alright Cassie, whatever you want." The attempt to lighten the ever depressing mood failed with Castiel’s sobering pause before entering ‘the bunker’. With reluctance he followed in, letting out a low whistle when he took a look around. "Damn, nice place you’ve got here."
"Cassie." He smiled at the nickname for some reason. The smile left however as he stepped into the bunker after Dean. "It’s not my place, it belongs to you, Dean. You’re room is over near there." Castiel lifted a hand and gave a vague motion towards one of the hallways. "It might help to start there. Don’t you agree?"