#doesn't mean you suddenly side with authoritarianism or shit like that

[artisticonyx]

What is it with dumbasses using people committing actual heinous crimes to fuel their dumbass shipping discourse. Fucking stop that.

[peakascum]

On the Edge of Eden

@slither-in-a-half​ hope you like this love! 

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His eyes traced your figure in a manner that could only be interpreted as boyish. His ears turned red, voice stammering with a little treble at the end, and his feet moved as if he were a newborn foal. He lacked confidence, his posture told you so- but could you blame the kid? You carried yourself with a graceful stance as if each wave and step were predetermined with consciousness and care. You were the talk of the gala, the name that slipped during tea time, the whispers that made it to the dirtiest corners of Small Heath. The youngest of the family, as was he. Common ground, he thought.

His feet carried him across the room, arms missing his aunt’s fingers by an inch and his brother’s angry whispers for him to stay put. They wouldn't care in a second, they would go back to their champagne and pretend that new money could buy them class and a new identity. He didn't think so or even care, not really; in fact, he didn't even try to hide his brummie accent or pretend to know which fork to use during dinner, even John struggled with that. 

Your eyes had been trained on him for a while, being there to catch his missteps and the occasional excessive laugh he’d hand out before the punchline was delivered. You too were conditioned to laugh at such jokes. At the meaningless banter that resonated through parties between nobles and esteemed families who had always looked down upon new money, like the Shelbys, which set the tone for your dislike towards your kin. Your mother groomed you to be a proper lady, bred to breed the finest that England had to offer in order to purify your name and- what else? How vain. 

The littlest Shelby had stammered his way through the entirety of the gala and held improper posture, which would only, and exclusively, be rectified when you tossed a wink or a silly face in his direction. It entirely went by his family’s head, but you did receive a proper kick to the shin from yours. It was just silly banter and perhaps a tad entertaining, much to his dismay, not in a way that would embarrass him completely, but just enough to taint his cheeks and further earn a glare from his siblings. 

The sillines, although flustered him, spoke volumes as to who hid beneath the expensive jewels and stoic expression. A girl, just a girl, who was anything but proper in the most intriguing and tasteful way. And it was in that utter lack of propriety that ignited a fire in his new dress shoes and sent him treading in your direction. 

He swiped two glasses from a nearby table and situated himself beside you. With a confident smirk he thrusted the glass in your direction, only slightly coating the floor beneath you, “A lady such as yourself shouldn't be drinking alone.” 

“A lady wasn’t, you just offered me a glass.” Your brow quirked in his direction.

“Y-yes, you seemed- thirsty. Had two in hand and you, glassless, appeared- uh-“

Your grin widened and brows shot up to your hairline, “-Unsatisfied?”

“I was going to suggest bored, but unsatisfied works too.”

 You giggled and took the glass from his hand, fingers grazing his smooth ones. You wondered just then how they would feel against your body and craved the touch of his fingertips, even just the the single caress of the tips, to edge across your face, to underline the blemishes that made up your young skin and maybe even leave a mark or two if they pressed hard enough against your hips. 

“For someone who seems to have it all, ‘unsatisfied’ is an odd word to use.”

���How so?”

“You're dripping in diamonds and you seem to walk as if you’d ‘ave a gun to your head.” He said it mindlessly, unbothered even, by the mere thought that you would immediately leave after such a remark. That’s why he detested these things. Upper class women seemed to be put off by talks of guns and mud. 

“Correct,” you hummed, “or a stick right up my arse.” His eyes darted to your face and then everywhere else to see if they heard. You just scanned the room. “My blood is blue and I shit diamonds, Mr. Shelby, doesn't mean I’m happy, or content, or-“

“-or satisfied.” He finished for you, staring intently at your profile. A small smile etched itself on your lips, “Or satisfied.”

“I’m Finn,” he said thrusting his hand in your direction, “Mr. Shelby is my brother.”

“Which one?”

“All- but really the one who does seem to have a whole tree branch up his arse.” This earned a whole hearted laugh from you, prompting a small chuckle from him. He made you laugh, genuinely. You turned in his direction and took his suspended hand in yours, and shook his hand with all the seriousness you could muster. 

“Well Finnegan Shelby it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, how about we drop this act, ditch the snobs and you show me how Small Heath does it.”

You welcomed the cold slapping of the wind as you would a warm hug. For a second, stillness and crickets. For a second, wires turned in question as to where should you go from here. Glancing towards his moonlit face you let out a heavy breath and hastily took your heals off, making you a couple of inches shorter than you already were. Finn offered you his arm for balance as the other clutched a whisky bottle he managed to snatch from the bar. With heals in hand, you raced through the filled and into the night. 

The skip in your step created a soothing rhythm with the howling wind, a melody you could get used to, one you prayed would come as often as life would allow it.

You lay on the ground surrounded by ramsons that had just started to bloom as Finn sat by your side, bending down ever so slightly to better view your features. Your hands nervously touched the diamond clad necklace that adorned your neck as you felt his eyes scan yours. For a girl whose entire life was spent under attentive eyes, his were the only ones to bring a jolt to your chest and an exuberant vitality to your entire being. 

“Watchful eyes you’ve got there.” His gaze shifted a little, as they did whenever you caught him watching.

“I can’t help myself.”

You cocked your head to the side and eyed him steadily, “Are you staring at my diamonds, Shelby? How pretty they shine under this light?”

“Shining rocks got nothing on you, love.”

“How flattering.” You scoffed. 

“You sound offended.”

“I despise lies, half truths. Men think that’s all that women want to hear. And some do, some eat it up and out of their hands as if they could never eat from their own.”

“You seem to take great interest in other’s concerns,” he said as you shook your head, “in matters and thoughts that imply your worth”

“I care not! I- I do not. It’s just a pity women are eyed like cattle and assumed to be foolish and of fallen grace!” You said, now agitated. Finn fancied the dark glow that came from your eyes, knowing he hit a nerve. You sat upright unlocking the necklace’s  hatch at the back of your neck. The rocks hit the limestone floor with a small thud no louder than that of a bird’s wings, and created a shimmering glare that adorned your face like small, expensive teardrops. 

“Your fit won’t change my mind if that’s what you're aiming at,” he provoked. You stood up with furrowed brows and hastily undid the back of your dress. His posture remained stoic but eyes widened in concern of your hurried movements. 

“What’s the matter Finn, aren’t women more rabid than men?” You chuckled as the dress slid  under the curve of your breasts, past your belly, and further pooled by your shoeless feet. Finn visibly gulped at the sight of your body in the delicate, silk slip. You stood proudly like a painting, a muse, waiting to be challenged and admired for his eyes, and only his. 

His head turned towards the house, which was only a dot in the mere distance, swallowed by music and acres of field. You stepped towards him towering over his sitting frame, took his hands in yours and placed them on your thighs, just below the seam of the slip. His cheeks turned a deep crimson that reminded you of the red pygmies that swam in the pond near your feet. “Suddenly at a loss for words, Shelby?”

He got up clumsily and towered over your body. Hands blended together in a pool of questions that should not and could not be answered with words, but with the mere touch of light grazes against his skin. How did he ever muster the courage to approach such a creature full of such beauty, whose aggressive approach to life had to be masked by the authoritarian glare of wealth and class. 

He knew where this was headed by your hurried kisses and the race of both hands. He halted your movements causing you to peer at him in a daze. “It’s not a race Y/N,” he said in a hushed manner.

“What’s the difference? You want me, you'll have me, and then leave,” you spat. 

“I want you, I’ll have you, and I’ll be back for more of you,” he paused to kiss your swollen lips, “for this,” he traced his lips over her breasts, “for more nights,” lips trailed to your belly, “no champagne, no diamonds. Just give up control, for once.” 

Your head tilted back as he nuzzled his head between your legs. His hands grazed the curves of your thighs while the wind nipped at your cheeks and flowers tickled your shins. The stars winked as the sky seemed to open up, all witnessing the spectacle that was just commencing. An exciting origin to an undoubtedly sublime love story. 

His soft fingers gripped your leg as he swung it over his shoulder, just as you imagined when you first accepted the glass in your empty glassless ones. 

Your sighs of pleasure mixed with his groans as he savored your juices, drinking you up like expensive cabernet. His tongue grazing the inside of your walls, kissing and nipping your bundle of pleasure, humming at your whines and muttering small praises full of lust and adoration. A garden of sinful pleasure built for the two.

*BONUS SCENE*

In the distance Tommy and Arthur stepped out into the balcony to get some air, the room suddenly seeming stuffed with snobs and meaningless conversation. They shared a cigarette and nursed their drinks, for a moment appreciating the quietness that spring brought every year. As Tommy dragged on about titles and politics, Arthur fixed his eyes in the distance, squinting and questioning if his mind was finally going mad. 

“Tom?” He stuttered. His brother held a hand up, “I know it’s the same shit with Mosely. Like a fuckin’ riddle-“

“Tom,” Arthur interrupted again, eyes widening as he stared at the distance. 

“No, it is! But if we ever catch-“

“Jesus fuck Tom, shut the hell up ‘bout the coppers and the bloody earls!” He said agitated. Tommy swirled his head to look at his brother’s rigid body. Arthur pointed into the distance, “There, Tom. There. By the tree, over the pond.”

Tommy followed his finger, having to squint his eyes to see the clear image.

“Fucken’ hell is that-“

“Fucken’ Finn!” Arthur cackled, choking on his own spit in the process. 

Tommy’s jaw slacked in complete and utter shock, “This fuckin’ kid I swear to God,” he muttered under his breath. Brow furrowing as his eyes scanned the property, suddenly worried that his brother’s laughter would attract attention to the scene that unfolded before them in the mere distance. “All right, all right Arthur- fuck,” he said as a small smirk formed on his stoic face. 

“Tom I can’t breath, I mean this is-“ Arthur howled, “this is almost fuckin’ biblical!”

“Arthur shh, okay okay just don’t-“

“Fuckin’ Adam and Eve shit Tom!”

[autisticandroids]

i think your point about power is really insightful. it ties back into dean's control issues: he feels obligated to take care of everything, because he considers it all his responsibility, but of course the dark side of this is that he feels the need to control everything, so at best, he infantilizes others (like you said, imagining cas as weak in purgatory), and at worst, he sees all power greater than his own as a threat to be destroyed (godstiel arc is the classic example of him turning on cas because cas got too powerful).

i also totally agree that dean loves cas most when he is dead. it's very congruent with the rest of the text. john and mary's marriage "wasn't perfect until after she died," and john used mary's death to justify a vengeance quest that she never would have wanted. dean didn't give a shit about kevin until suddenly he was dead. dean, sam, and cas swoop in to "save" claire but are only interested in her as a victim of violence and do not listen to her wishes.

i disagree with your point about naomi, because i think we have some solid evidence that heaven was wiping itself out that doesn't come from her.

#1 is from 7x21. hester refers to cas "sm[iting] thousands in heaven" and then inias objects to her attempt to kill cas on the basis that "there's so few of us left," implying both that heaven's population is significantly reduced, and that killing thousands was enough to accomplish this reduction.

#2 is from the fact that malachi refers to "a host of angels" dying in the fall. that's going to refer to a large number, and given that after the fall the angels had to all find vessels and this did not seem to impact the human population significantly, there can't be that many angels. certainly not in the hundred millions, given that a hundred million angels would mean that over 1% of the human population would have to be possessed.

caveat: i'm not actually sure that the angels had to find vessels; i always took the implication from season nine to be that they would eventually die if they didn't, but i might have imagined that. this weakens my point somewhat.

#3 is that lily sunder straight up says that killing angels is easy these days because they have no wings.

#4 is that duma does not have the same ulterior motives as naomi and she is the one much more invested in repopulating heaven (see: war of the worlds, funeralia, jack in the box). naomi could be tricking her, but that seems more complicated than simply believing the text as it stands.

#5 is that it seems like angels tend to resolve conflicts by murdering each other. like this isn't stated anywhere but it seems to be the implication of the text.

i would also argue that cas did fail as a leader because essentially he took on responsibility despite knowing that dean would likely come wreck things, and then allowed dean to do so, but i agree insofar as i don't think cas failed as a leader in the way the show wants us to believe. the way he failed was allowing his abusive relationship to destroy his community which is something a lot harder to blame him for.

plus i do think the angels failed to create a non-authoritarian government given that hannah goes around in season ten trying to round up angels and bring the back to heaven and killing them if they don't comply, even if they're not hurting anyone (see: david and adina).

anyway overall i agree with your points but i did have some quibbles.

the thing is that heaven is a cult but most angels we meet are not like. they're not evil they're victims too. and so even though heaven is unequivocally an abusive cult with evil goals most of the like. regular angels are like. they're just like cas was before canon. they're just people who have been brainwashed into compliance from birth and don't know any other life. but the moment someone opens their eyes that brainwashing wavers, and often it breaks. anyway thinking about this bc it's really important to me to differentiate heaven, cas' torturers and brainwashers, betraying whom is for cas a heroic act of liberation, and angels, cas' family and loved ones, betraying whom is for cas both a great crime and a great tragedy