#but the longest leg of the journey is finally complete and will ensure i can at least get my foot in the door now

[miodiodavinci]

congration

you done it

[hellofanidea]

nathan i am going to be insufferable now that you've posted that prompt list i hope you know

i'll send two, but you can pick just one if you wanna!:

♘ Cuddling in a blanket fort for arthur/george

♠ One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/ neck tie/ etc for nat/tab

Okay so this one got away from me a little, I apologise. And I know I said I'd post them both together, but this one got finished first and I was too desperate to share it to wait to finish the other! But it is coming!

♘ Cuddling in a blanket fort for arthur/george - quick tw for very light period typical homophobia and references to ptsd/insomnia

The motel wasn't the nicest place they had ever stayed.

It wasn't decrepit, exactly, or even particularly dirty, but the carpet was thin, and there were enough unusual stains in strange places that it lacked any element of invitation. However, it did have two beds and an attached bathroom, which was all the incentive George and Arthur had needed to take the room when they had pulled off the road after dark. They'd been driving for going on seven hours, and though it was far from the longest journey either of them had been on, neither had wanted to push on through the night to do the next five.

Arthur threw his bag down at the door, stretching until he heard a loud pop that made George wrinkle his nose.

"We risking it tonight?" He asked, tilting his head at the currently separated twin beds on either side of the room.

"Don't see why not. We gotta be on the road early if we want to make it to Lip's at a reasonable time, so we can have it put back in place before anything like housekeeping comes knocking," shrugged George. He flashed a smile Arthur's way before moving towards the nearest bed. Arthur's insides warmed and fizzed the way they always did in response to that smile, and he felt his own stretch his cheeks as he followed him.

"Let's get moving then, I'm beat."

"Oh, he's beat, says the man who didn't drive at all today," George teased, grabbing the head of the metal bedframe. Arthur clicked his tongue in mock irritation and got hold of the foot.

"I'll have you know I was doing plenty important work," he argued. They both started to pull.

"Sure thing, baby. Falling asleep before we even got out of Conneticut sure does sound-"

George cut himself off, both of them looking down with some confusion at where the frame hadn't budged an inch. They were on the smaller side, granted, but they had still been paratroopers. They were certainly strong enough to move a bit of metal with a mattress on top. Arthur rattled his end as George crouched to investigate.

"I think it's bolted down," he cursed, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Jesus. What the hell is happening around here to make them nail the goddamn beds down?" Arthur squawked.

"I don't know. People like us?"

It was said with a certain joking quality, but both men still grimaced at the way it fell flat. Sometimes it was hard to remember there was a completely different world outside of their apartment.

"Doesn't matter anyhow," Arthur muttered, kicking lightly at the bed. An old, familiar hum of injustice and frustration started up in the back of his chest, and he could feel it poisoning his mood alongside his tiredness, making him feel petulant and spiky. He just wanted to sleep with his arms around George and these beds were far too thin to accommodate two grown men, even as clingy as they were. "It's just one night."

"Yeah," George agreed quietly. He got to his feet, stretching his back until it cracked as loudly as Arthur's had. Both of them snorted, the tension evaporating. "You mind if I..?"

His head jerked towards the bathroom, and Arthur shook his head.

"Go for it. I gotta change anyway."

"Thanks."

By the time George came out, Arthur had stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, binder off and folded neatly with the rest of his clothes. The bathroom wasn't much better than the rest of the room; functional enough, but with thick rings of grime building along the edges. Even the light was less than agreeable, the harsh glow enough to ensure Arthur didn't look in the mirror for more than a few seconds when he went in to wash up. His hair was starting to grow out beyond it's usual mess, and he knew catching sight of himself in the mood he was already in would send him spiralling.

Jesus, but he was tired. George was right, he hadn't driven, but he hadn't been sleeping right over the last few weeks either. Moreso than usual. He had finally gotten to the point of being glad to crawl into bed, something he avoided unless coaxed by George, and now they were caught between either sleeping separately or nearly killing each other in the night. If they did end up using their own beds, Arthur knew he could kiss his chances of sleeping at all goodbye.

"Baby," he called out softly as he stepped back into the room. "What are we-?"

He stopped. He blinked. His tired mind tried to make sense of what he was seeing. It looked... remarkably like a blanket fort.

Both beds had been stripped of their bedding, and in the space between them, sheets had been strung to make a kind of canopy. Crouching a little, Arthur could see George laid out on the floor beneath them, pillow tucked comfortably under his head and smug smile shining out of his face.

"I believe you were gonna ask how we were sleeping tonight?" He grinned, patting the space next to him.

The absurdity of it broke through Arthur's surprise and he laughed, crawling under the sheet to join him. In lieu of trying to pull the mattresses onto the floor, George had used the quilts, and pulled the spare blankets they always brought when travelling to put over them for warmth.

"Should I even try asking?" Arthur laughed again, wriggling under one of the blankets. He immediately reached out for George, who just shrugged and wriggled closer until they were facing each other, an arm over each other's waists.

"You looked sad," he said simply. "And I didn't want to spend the night across the room from you. And then when I was moving the stuff to the floor, I thought 'fuck it, blanket fort'."

"Fuck it, blanket fort," Arthur repeated, words bubbling with amusement. That sour feeling from earlier was starting to dissipate, replaced with the usual rolling, giddy, warmth that stemmed from George's presence. They blended for a second, becoming a sharp needlepoint in Arthur's stomach, and he leant forward to steal a kiss, curling in a little tighter until they were practically sharing a pillow. "It was a good idea. Thanks. I didn't mean to look sad, I'm not, I promise. Just tired."

"Yeah, I know," George assured him gently, pressing his own kiss to Arthur's forehead. For a moment, Arthur wondered if he'd felt suddenly guilty for teasing him about sleeping in the car, but brushed the thought aside by slipping his leg between George's. Their shared warmth and the odd comfort of the sheet roof above them was making him drowsy, his tiredness winning above his usual hindbrain desire to be on alert.

"Goodnight George," he sighed, voice a little muffled from where his face had settled at his shoulder. "Love you."

"Love you too." There was a pause. "...but one of us has still got to turn out the light."

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirits - zuko x fem!reader (pt.6)

SUMMARY: Y/n has been tailing Azula since Omashu and struggles to carry out her mission while protecting what matters most (AHAHAH THIS WAS THE WORST SUMMARY EVER IM SORRY)

WORD COUNT: 4k (uh wow this is my longest piece ever and i- AHAHA)

WARNINGS: panic attacks, fighting, swearing, angst? Tbh if you’ve made it this far in the series nothing new I think (lmk if I forgot anything)

KEY: *** = flashback && italic = internal dialogue

PREVIOUS PARTS: part 1  /   part 2   /  part 3  /  part 4  /  part 5

MASTERLIST: Here!

The cool breeze swept through the palanquin as Azula sat assuredly, ruling everything she passed. “Okay girls, Father has sent word that the machinery and our wonderful new pets will meet up with us soon to chase down the Avatar until he’s too exhausted to even think anymore! Then, we’ll be off to capture Zuzu and Uncle! Victory will be ours.”

“That sounds extremely boring.” Grumbling as if Mai had so much more better things to do with her time.

“Hmm, I have to disagree Mai. What would be more fun than making them feel like there’s no escape but having to fight which they would inevitably fail at trying to win because they’re tired beyond repair!! It will be such a sweet victory.” Letting out a small laugh that sounded nothing but maniacal to you, Mai didn’t say another word as Ty Lee giddily nodded in approval.

Now, that is a tragic sight to see despite how understandably so.

Azula, Ty Lee and Mai have been planning how to hunt down the additional target from the moment they all stepped out of Omashu. Yet, based on that recent encounter, it was more so Azula rather than anyone else. Luckily enough, you were able to stay out of sight the entire time, and nothing requiring you to intervene has occurred. It was only a matter of time before that lucky streak broke.

After much contemplation and sleepless nights since the third anniversary, along with recent events, Zuko finally came to a conclusion. Approaching his uncle with great certainty, he finally let out what has been on his mind.

“Uncle, I thought a lot about what you said.”

“You did? Good, good.”

“It’s helped me realise something.” Letting out a deep breath, getting to the point came quite easily to him, especially since Iroh’s back was still faced towards him.

“We no longer have anything to gain by travelling together. I need to find my own way.”

Not wanting to stay for any of Iroh’s possible rebuttals, he silently reached for his belongings that he had pre-packed for the occasion and turned to make his solo journey into the forest. As he began to walk further into the woods on his own, Iroh knew he wouldn’t turn back for him, so he did the first thing he could think of to aid his nephew if he couldn’t physically be there for him.

“Wait!” Rushing over Iroh grabbed the Ostrich Horse and gave him to Zuko- for someone who has barely been exposed to the real world, he knew his nephew couldn’t do entirely on his own. Even if the animal couldn’t properly speak with him.

Accepting his uncles’ gesture, he climbed on top ready to get on with his own mission of sorts. On his own, Zuko would finally have the chance to do something he never had time to consider until now; find you.

Looking out onto the horizon, the giant, ugly piece of machinery continued to charge its way towards a hopeless group of young teenagers. “Despite how much I hate that girl, I will admit, her determination is unparalleled.”

“Eerrnngggghhhhh!”

“You can say that again.”

It had been approximately three days since Azula received her new toy, and she spent every single minute catching up with the Avatar. To your relief, she seems to have finally caught sight of him, and hopefully, this would also mean that you might finally be able to stop tailing her. In the past three days, you haven’t managed to catch a single minute of sleep or a break, and while this was something you have experienced before, you were sure that your ride was more than ready to collapse at any second.

In all honesty, when a Fire Nation hawk landed near your campsite four days earlier, the last thing you expected was word that you would be receiving assistance for your mission. Not once before had this occurred since you’ve been entirely left to your own devices. You supposed it was because the stakes were too high this round.

***

Y/N.

I am pleased to hear that my daughter is able to catch sight of the Avatar and his assistants in crime against my great nation. While I am sure you are clearly focused on your task with ensuring Azula succeeds in bringing my disgraceful relatives back to the palace, you must extend your attention towards the new targets as well. Regarding my son and brother, I was disappointed when I heard word that they got away since I made it perfectly clear that you must finish the job. On this occasion, I will take the benefit of the doubt since it would be too suspicious if you completed the mission on Azula’s first attempt.

I have dispatched 3 mongoose lizards for Azula and her company. A fourth will be on its way for your use, as it is paramount that you do not let her fail whatsoever.

I have taken the precious and personal time out of my day to write and send this letter so that word does not reach my daughter of your mission. Let this also be a reminder of the possible bounty on your head if you choose to fail. I am sure the pitiful state of your body is enough of a reminder of what I can do to you.

Regardless of your past services to me, remember this is the ultimate test of your loyalty to your nation and me.

Your Fire Lord, Ozai.

Despite informing you that help that was on its way, you spent the rest of the night in a state of turmoil. Talk about having a way with words.

How in Spirits name did that stupid bird find me?! It flew away quickly too so I guess I don’t need to send anything back but… What am I really doing here?

Ozai seems to have some way of finding me so clearly, I can’t run away. Yet, I’m not going to allow him to take anyone back to the Capital…

Frozen in your thoughts, your focus stayed fixated on the fire you ignited earlier in the night.

Fuck I wish I could talk to her. She’d know the right thing to say, and everything would be okay again.

Roughly tugging at your braided hair, you held your legs to your chest desperately trying to clear your head. Stop, don’t think about her too.

Oblivious to any concept of time, when the first rays of yellow and orange peak over the horizon, your mind instantly enters a state of calm. Almost as if it were able to strengthen you from your core. Although while the problem remained, with a stronger mindset, you forced yourself to accept that you were just going to have to work it out further down the line. At this rate with Azula’s split focus, you weren’t even sure if you would have to take care of the Avatar or Zuko first.

***

Funnily enough, it seemed that fate decided you would have to deal with both at the same time since Zuko has caught sight of Azula and friends and now you were tailing both him and his sister. How convenient.

I wonder where Iroh is? Didn’t he get away with Zuko when they ran off the ship?

After keeping out of sight through every moment Azula came even remotely close to Aang, you decided to follow her when she separated from Mai and Ty Lee. But before you entered the area to keep an eye on everything from afar, you noticed Zuko on his Ostrich Horse as if he was waiting for the right moment to interfere.

“Be careful Zuko.”

Whipping around at a speed that could give him whiplash, his face instantly turned into nothing short of a scowl when he recognised your voice.

“You again?! Whoever you are, you need to get away from me. Leave. Me. Alone!”

Attempting and failing to take a step closer to him as he steers his horse a few steps back. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just trying to protect you, that’s all I want to do. If I could have it my way, you’d be far away from this place; away from Azula. You can’t trust her. This isn’t right, and you should be somewhere that could give you a fresh start, like Ba Sing Se.”

“As if you would know anything about Azula or why I’m here! I need to regain my honour, and I’m doing the right thing! Stop trying to meddle with my life when your role in it is completely insignificant!”

An indignant sigh passes through your lips. “Fine. Just be careful. Please.”

Scowling at you once more Zuko tugs the reigns on his ostrich horse to take him further into the abandoned village. You try not to let his anger get to you, but at this point, you’re unsure if you’re more upset or annoyed with his attitude. Sighing under your mask, you do a quick check that all of your weapons are strapped in place since it seems that this interaction isn’t about to end peacefully.

“Let’s do this.”

Hopping off your new lizard friend, you stealthy broke through one of the broken windows of a nearby building, ensuring that you were staying out of sight.

Ah, it seems he wasn’t wasting any time.

“Back off Azula. He’s mine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

As the three of them got into their fighting stances, you almost wanted to jump in right then and there to help Aang. The sight of his painfully dark under circles was too much of an indicator that this fight wasn’t going to be an easy one.

Making the first move, Azula strikes her blue fire towards Zuko. Luckily enough for him, he was able to deflect it with his own. Observing the fight take place before you, it eventually gravitates further away, leaving you to only listen to what is occurring from your hidden spot.

I wonder how long until I’ll have to step in. With both Zuko and Azula on the offence, it’s clear that one of them is going to get hurt. Something tells me it’s not going to be Azula either. If only he fought smarter rather than harder.

What. A. Pity.

Soon enough, your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Zuko let out an angered scream, followed by a loud crash. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let out a small snicker at that.

As Aang comes back into view, you scan around for an exit knowing that if you stay where you are, you’ll get caught. Yet when you make your move to run, half of the roof is swiped off clean, causing him to plummet towards the ground. Abandoning any thought, you sprint back to where he’s about to land, quickly catching him.

Stunned that there was another person in a building, Aang frantically looked around, trying to identify who it was that caught him. Eventually, he noticed your eyes peering through some of the broken wooden ceiling around him, your black mask confirming that it was you. “Woah! What…? Oh spirits, it’s you!”

Eye’s widening at how fast he managed to work out that it was you, you desperately tried to dig yourself into the wreckage as you felt Azulas fire coming closer. “Shhh! She’s coming.”

“What? How do you know-?”

As Azula saunters into the building, her infamous smirk adorning her face. Wordlessly lighting up the room's perimeter in flames, Aang begins to struggle against the piece of wood on top of him, consequently crushing you further from under him.

Letting out a small grunt, you scold him under your breath, “stay calm.”

Your inner peace y/n.

Just as Azula raised her right hand to strike, you closed your eyes, imagining a moment you felt at peace. A moment that made you forget all of the chaos your created in the world.

***

Cold, smooth fingertips tenderly reached out towards you, instinctively making your lungs tightly squeeze together as she brushed the hair out of your eyes. The delicate giggle emitting from her pink stained lips was enough for you to lose all sense of constraint as you take a small step towards her. Hesitantly as you stare that the ground, you take her hand in yours, stroking the back of it with your thumb. The action is so small yet feels so loud in your chest because this is as close as its ever gotten.

Just when you’re about to pull it away completely, terrified that you’ve gone too far, her other hand reaches up, lifting your chin ever so softly as she makes you look at her.

“It’s funny y/n, because even though I’ve lived here my whole life, I’ve never seen snow look quite as beautiful as it does in your hair.”

***

When you reopen them, the heat of your fire runs its way through your veins and your fingertips. The fallen remains all around you burst away, freeing yourself and Aang from its constrains. Seeing your golden fire of pure energy light up the room, Azula is stunned into place, instantly recognising it from the day she visited your cell all those years ago. Glowing golden, eyes peering into the deepest parts of her, it's unnerving how the unusual feeling sinks into her bones. Yet, her moments of distraction leave her as Katara reaches the entryway whipping her arm with water.

Complete rage fills Azula’s body. Not only had she been wholly blindsided by your presence, but she also lost focus. And Azula never loses focus.

Whirling around, she strikes at Katara, sending her running out into the open. Needing to make up for her prior incompetence, Azula runs after her.

“Woah! How did you do that?! That was so cool.”

“There’s no time; you need to go out there and help your friends. Never underestimate that princess.”

Aang’s amazement towards how you freed both of you from the crushing weight of the ceiling faltered as he noticed your choice of words.

“Come with me. Please. I need you.”

Sensing the certainty of his decision, you brushed off some ash from your clothing, wordlessly making your way out of the building.

I’m going to regret this.

With Aang following closely behind, you both join Sokka and Katara, and they face Azula, ready to corner her. Yet she wasn’t giving up just yet. Sending her fire with precision, she takes turns in having a shot at each of you. Luckily enough, you were all able to hold your own.

Backing away slowly, you can tell she thinks that she’s almost about to get a proper hold of the entire situation. But to your greatest joy, she falls flat on her face.

“I thought you guys could use a little help.”

This must be Aangs new earth bending teacher.

“Thanks.” Did Katara just smile?!

Not wasting the opportunity that came with their small distraction, she makes a run for an ally as an escape. Although, once again, she is faced with another hurdle being Iroh, ultimately allowing all seven of you to finally corner her.

In true fashion, she doesn’t allow it to bother her one bit, “well, look at this. Enemies and traitors all working together.”

Taking in everyone one by one, she pauses when her eyes lock with yours. “Even you. Pathetic scum, it seems you still haven’t learnt your lesson. I always told father we should have disposed of you from the moment we caught you.” With that comment, you see Zuko glance towards you in your peripheral vision. This is nowhere near the time right now coal brain.

“I’m done.” Raising her arms in surrender, you almost want to laugh. Do these people seriously believe Azula right now?

“I know when I’m beaten. You got me. A princess surrenders with honour.” Standing before everyone, you instinctively fixate yourself on her, searching for a microexpression to indicate what she’s really about to do.  Her smug smile clearly shows that she’ll most likely attack. But who?

By the time she decides on her target, it’s too late. Sending a direct stream of fire towards Iroh, Zuko lets out a horrified scream, instinctively setting off everyone to attack with their element, or weapon in Sokkas case. You on the other hand, rushed to Iroh’s side knowing that the others were more than capable on their own.

As he lays passed out on the ground, panic slowly swarms in your chest. Fuck, another person is dying because of me! I literally saw her focus on him!

Placing your hands on his chest, you let out a deep breath trying to remember a trick you learned on a mission a while back when you got a deep cut to your side. Focusing on him and his faint heartbeat, despite being a bit shaky, you were able to use your fire, providing him with enough energy to bring his breathing to a steady rate. But the moment was short-lived when you heard an explosion go off, giving Zuko the opportunity to get to his uncle's side, and in turn, shove you away from him.

“Get off him! You’re always in the way! Arghhhh!”

Haistly scrambling to your feet, you stand beside Sokka, understanding that it’s best you try not to help him right now. Katara, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share those feelings with you.

“Zuko, I can help.”

“LEAVE!” as he strikes towards you and everyone else, you stumbled backwards. Memories of a similar flame being struck towards you by his father felt like something inside you snapped. While not directly hitting you, the heat radiating down upon you caused your head to spin, and vision to blur.

It seemed that despite training with fire for the past three years, the action coming from him sent you down a spiral incomparable to anything else.

i-I can’t... I’m…

The earth bender girl immediately sensing what was happening to you didn’t hesitate, “Sokka! Grab her! Quickly, we need to go to Appa.”

“What?! Why me!”

“Shut up!! Her heart rate is literally through the roof right now. We need to help her! Can’t you see her shaking right in front of you?!”

Finally taking a good look at your trembling form, Sokka was too stunned to move.

Aang immediately agreeing with Toph, nudges him before setting off in the direction of Appa. “Sokka, NOW!”

Snapping out of his panicked, frozen state, he rushes towards you, scooping you up into his arms.

“Oh Spirits, I am so so sorry if I’m invading your personal space right now. Please, I’m so sorry. It’ll only be until we reach Appa, okay? I’m so…”

Fisting the cloth of his shirt, you shake your head. “It’s o-okay.” Pushing your face into his chest, you try to regulate your breathing in time with his heartbeat. Something was so unexplainably comfortable about having someone hold you that all of the memories of Ozai burning you, began to make its way back into the depths of your mind. So comforting, that at some point between the village and Appa, you passed out.

When you awoke again, you were high up in the clouds with the sun high in the air. How long was I out?

Deciding to sit upright, the first thing you see is the Water Tribe siblings and the earth kingdom girl facing you.

At first, you thought Toph was about to speak up, yet it seemed that Katara’s suspicions of you beat her to the punch. “Don’t think of moving too fast or trying anything! You're cornered now.”

Your eyebrows raised at that. “Alright, then. How would you like me?”

Upon, hearing your voice Aang physically perked up, completely beaming that you were awake. Without a second thought, he trusted that Appa would be able to fly for a bit on his own, making his way to all of you.

“I’m so glad that you’re okay! I was really worried about you.” Taking his place next to Katara, you were shocked at the stark contrast between his attitude towards you, and hers. It’s like he genuinely cares. Well… I guess that makes sense considering he’s an Air Nomad. Oh spirits, does this mean he’s going to pay even more attention to me than when we first met?!

“Uh… thanks. I appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to.”

“No, of course I did! Plus, I’m grateful that you helped me out with Azula! It’s the least we could do. Right guys?” Still having his glowing smile, he turns to his friends, and it seemed that the only one who truly looked indifferent with the entire matter was the earth kingdom girl who just nodded.

“Thanks, Toph!” Finally, a name.

Once again, Katara was displeased, “yeah whatever. If she’s going to stay with us, she’s going to have to tell us who she is. Don’t think we didn’t hear what Azula said back there about you. You need to explain what she meant by that. How does she know you, and what do you have to do with the Fire Lord?!”

At those questions, you weren’t too happy either, “I don’t want to stay with you! I just need to leave and find Azula again.”

For the first time since you woke up, Sokka decided to say something. “Why would you ever want to do that?! Why do you keep wanting to go back to her when you keep getting separated?! If you ask me it’s clearly a sign that you should stay away because she’s completely insane! She even knows you followed her and everything, so she’s going to have her guard up.”

“You don’t understand. If I don’t get back to Azula, people are going to get hurt. I’ve literally saved your lives on two occasions just by tailing her. Now, think about all of the people she can harm when no one’s watching. I’m also a threat to all of your destinies by being here.”

Uncomfortable with the tension that’s been building at an alarming rate, Aang moves so that he’s sitting in between you and the other three. “Okay, I understand, but could you please explain why you’re a threat by being here? You need to stay safe too, your life matters just as much as everyone else’s and even though you’ve proven yourself more than capable of protecting yourself, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be safe if you go to her and I can't let you go knowing your life is at risk.”

“Aang, there are always risks. Spirits, all four of you are at risk, but you know that it's for the greater good to end this war.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not the same. We have each other; we look after each other. You don’t have that. Please. You don’t have to tell us everything now. I understand since we’ve only met once before, but I promise no matter what it will all be okay and you can be apart of our team. Our family.”

On that note, you hesitated. A family?

No. The spirits have made it clear enough that a family is not in my cards.

“That sounds great, but I don’t think it’ll work out.”

Sokka lets out a frustrated groan, “What? Of course, it will! I know I’m not your biggest fan, but it's clear you’re just as against the Fire Nation as the rest of us!”

Looking around at all of their faces, you can tell that even though Sokka and mainly Katara, still clearly have their reservations about you, they understand where Aang is coming from. Heck, if it meant that they had another person on their side and against Azula and the Fire Nation, that was already a win. You almost felt guilty when you saw their horrified faces as you revealed the truth.

“It won’t work because I’m the Fire Lords personal assassin.”

 taglist: @slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​​​ @kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​ @ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​ @nnon-it-up​ @lozzybowe​ @scarletemeterio​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @simpinforsukka​ @chewymoustachio​ @tiffy119​ @sokkassuki​ @spearbatty​

a/n: hehe hiya friends!! Thanks for reading hehe I hope you enjoyed!! Lelel lmk your thoughts or any predictions for what you think is guna happen next hehe

alsoooo did anyone spot my lil inserts for our second lead? AHAHAHAHAHA

don’t fear either!! Zuko will learn eventually hehehe

but anyway i would love to hear from all of you if you have any feedback as well :))

[fanfic-corner]

Wrapped In Red

Merry Christmas, @masterofevilmonkeyness! I’ve really enjoyed writing your secret santa for @destielsecretsanta2020 this year, and it has actually ended up being the longest fic I have ever written!

First of all, here’s the playlist. My friend found some perfect songs for the different scenes, and we had a lot of fun trying to find songs with specific vibes!

Without further ado, here’s the fic. And, if you’d prefer, the link to it on AO3.

{o0o}

“So you’ll do it?” his brother’s voice crackles though Dean’s cracked phone, and he sighs. So yeah, maybe he hasn’t been on a case in a while and has been going slowly insane just hanging around the bunker, but he also doesn’t want to leave Cas alone. Since his grace had faded completely a few days ago, the former angel had hardly left his room, and Dean wasn’t sure what he could do to help.

He rubs his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on simply from this conversation, and replies, “I’ll ask Cas.”

“Okay, text me if you’re going,” Sam responds, the phone making the muffled noises that Dean has learnt means that he is holding his phone on his shoulder, freeing his hands to talk to Eileen.

“Stop worrying, anyway,” Dean tells him, cracking his back as he stands up. “You’re on holiday. Leave the cases for a while, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean slips his phone into his back pocket and wanders down the hallway, so engrossed in his plan to invest in some thick socks because the bunker floor is freezing that he nearly walks straight into Cas. His dark hair sticks up in every direction and he is wearing an old Zeppelin shirt of Dean’s and a pair of Sam’s sweatpants, which look like they are being held up by some kind of miracle. Paired with the bags under his eyes which are so dark that Dean mistakes them for bruises, he could be mistaken for a ghost. 

“Hey, uh,” Dean stutters, not sure what to say. “Sam has a case that I was thinking of going on, but we don’t have to, we can just pass it on to Garth or-”

“I’ll go with you,” Cas interrupts, his voice hoarse and croaky.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t look...great. No offense.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas’ steely blue eyes had always been able to pull off a frighteningly good stare, and Dean just decides to go along with it. It would do them both good to get out of the bunker, in any case.

“Okay,” he agrees, “shall we go in about an hour? That’ll give me enough time to pack for both of us and you enough time to have a shower.”

Cas nods, and they part ways, Dean watching the angel hoist his borrowed pants up and disappear around the corner before shaking his head and fishing his phone out to text Sam.

We’ll take it. Send me the details, setting off in an hour.

{o0o}

Dean had tried his very best to hold a conversation when they set off on the fourteen hour drive, but he had long given up and they were only at the two hour mark. Every question he asked so far had either gone unanswered or had been graced with a monosyllabic response. It was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall. Well, no one could fault him for trying. 

Flicking his wrist out lazily, he turns on the radio without looking with the kind of graceful expertise that only comes from years of driving his baby at night. It takes a full ten seconds for him to realise that the sound of jingle bells is coming from the speakers before he groans. “Nope.”

A surprisingly warm hand shoots out to stop him before he can turn it off, and Dean looks up in surprise at Cas’ imploring face. “Please can we listen to it?”

Considering what the dude had lost recently - and the fact that apparently his puppy eyes are almost as effective as Sam’s - Dean was hardly going to deny him this one thing. He did, however, have one condition. “Okay, I’ll leave it on, but only if you fish out my Christmas mixtape from the box.”

Dean never took his eyes off the road, but he was acutely aware of the way Cas stared at him for a moment before excitedly rummaging through the old box of tapes. Eventually, he pulls it out, admiring the battered stickers and fading drawings that he and Sam had added when they made it all those years ago. Cas gently slides it in and the first few notes of Mariah Carey grace the air.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, grinning wildly. “You, Castiel, are about to be educated in some proper Christmas music.”

By the time the mixtape finishes, they are both in a much better mood, so Dean decides it is probably a good idea to stop for a little bit to get some snacks and some gas. Frowning, Cas informs him that he needs the toilet, before disappearing towards the nasty looking bathroom. Dean can’t help but feel bad for him; as much as he loves being human, he knows it must be annoying to suddenly have the weird experience of a human body. They always seemed to hurt or need something, and he could tell that Cas found the whole thing incredibly repetitive and exasperating.

The gas station is like every other gas station Dean has ever seen; empty, with a layer of grime that seemed to cover everything and the bright lights that ensured that no matter what time of day it was, it always seemed to look the exact same. This one, however, is also covered in Christmas decorations. Glittery tinsel and rainbow paper chains swing from the ceiling, the air conditioning coaxing them into a gentle dance. Fake snow covers every surface, and flashing fairy lights force him to blink and look away. 

Dean moves on autopilot, picking up snacks that Cas hasn’t tried yet and a couple of bottles of water, before reaching the counter. He has to yell to the cashier - who is decked out in a festive jumper and Santa hat - in order to be heard over the deafening Christmas music.

“Here,” she practically sings, disappearing into the back room for a second before reappearing with a ridiculous pair of reindeer antlers. “These are for you, sweetie! No charge. Cheer up, it’s Christmas!”

Dean tries to refuse the antlers, but the lady - Lucy, her name tag reads - is not taking no for an answer, so eventually he gives in, telling himself that it is just so he can leave this Christmas Hell and get back to driving. Cas is waiting for him outside, leaning on the car and watching as the first few flakes of snow start to fall.

Dean hesitates for a moment before offering the antlers to him. Cas just stares at them, his head tilted to one side. Sighing, Dean just steps closer and puts them on Cas’ head, laughing when the bells jingle as he tries to look up at them without taking them off. He slips his phone out and sneaks a picture of the bewildered former angel, hastily putting it away and bundling Cas in the car so that they can set off before the snow gets too bad.

“Why did you give me a pair of fake antlers, Dean?” Cas asks as they set off, turning them over and inspecting them in his hands. Much to Dean’s dismay, they wouldn’t fit in the car. 

“Thought you liked Christmas stuff?” he replies, grinning.

“What do fabric antlers have to do with Christmas?” 

And so, Dean finds himself spending the last leg of the journey attempting to explain Christmas traditions to Cas, who can’t help interrupting and pointing out the real facts, rather than Dean’s Christmas cracker knowledge. They go over Santa and his reindeers (“reindeers can’t fly, Dean”), the birth of Jesus (“I remember Balthazar telling me about that”), and mince pies (“why are they sweet? Mince isn’t supposed to be sweet.”). By the time they arrive Dean is so eager to escape the onslaught of questions that he doesn’t know the answer to, he hits someone with the car door as he gets out.

The actual reason that they have driven into the middle of absolutely nowhere dangerously close to Christmas is because a couple had gone missing last week and hadn’t been seen since. Usually, they would assume that this case wasn’t their kind of thing, but Sam had been asked to check it out by another hunter who knew them (and who apparently had some beef with a ton of shapeshifters), and so here they are..

Dean suggests that FBI agents might be a bit too suspicious for a small town in the middle of nowhere, so instead he and Cas decide to pretend that they are just family visiting them for the weekend. They knock on next door under the pretense of asking for the spare key, and are greeted by possibly the grumpiest people Dean has ever met.

“Fine,” the lady snaps, the half of her face visible from behind the door frowning at them in disgust before turning back into the house. “Harold, get the spare key for next door!”

“Do you happen to know where they have gone?” Dean asks politely, the pleasant smile on his face starting to ache.

“No.”

Cas raises his eyebrows at Dean, before he tries. “When was the last time you saw them?”

The woman huffs impatiently. “Probably when they went to that stupid office Christmas party. We could hear the music from here. It was so inconsiderate.”

“Oh,” Dean replies, sharing a look with Cas. “Where was this party?”

The door opens fully, a man appearing behind the lady - Harold, Dean assumes - who hands the key over to them. “It was those blasted Mitchells.” He turns to his wife, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Did you hear that they are throwing another goddamn party tomorrow, Ann?”

“Thanks for all your help,” Dean interrupts before they can get too carried away. 

“Merry Christmas!” Cas adds, already backing away. 

They speedwalk back across the victims’ house, making sure that the neighbours’ door is shut before they completely break down laughing. Dean can barely open the door, but when he finally manages to correctly align the key in the lock, they both tumble into the front room, shaking uncontrollably.

Dean collapses next to the couch, sliding to the floor. He takes a couple of deep breaths before managing to speak. “Sounds like we’re going to your first Christmas party, Cas.”

{o0o}

After making their way through most of the people in the town, two things have been made very clear. First of all, the last anyone had seen of the victims - Adam and Amelia Knapp - was at their office Christmas party. Which nearly everyone in the town had been at, and yet no one knew anything remotely helpful. Secondly, there was another Christmas party being held tomorrow night by the somewhat popular Mitchell family, and the chances of their mystery monster striking were high, in Dean’s opinion.

The most logical course of action would be for Dean and Cas to pretend to be guests at the party, so they could stop their creature before anyone else went missing and then they could disappear back home in time for Christmas. However, Dean had found that nothing in his life could ever be that simple, so instead he found himself standing in front of a wide array of hats, trying to wrestle a fez away from a former angel of the Lord.

Because of course it had to be a costume party, and just as the icing on the cake, it had to be a couples only costume party.

“Dude,” Dean says, finally managing to wrench the fez from Cas’ iron grip, “if we’re wearing hats, at least try a good hat.”

Dean plops an example on Cas’ head, laughing as it slips over his eyes. “These aren’t Christmassy, Dean.”

“Sure they are,” Dean says, grabbing a hat more in Cas’ size and a matching one for him. He strolls over to the till, grabbing a couple more things on the way. “You’ll see.”

Since they have a few hours to kill before the actual party, Dean decides that they can waste some of the day doing some Christmas shopping, especially after he finds out that Cas hasn’t got any presents yet. He drives them to a nearby mall, throws Cas a handful of notes and his antlers, and gives him strict instructions to buy some presents and then meet Dean in the food court in an hour. 

“Why can’t we do it together?” Cas asks, and Dean could swear he was pouting.

“Because the presents are supposed to be a surprise,” he explains, shooing Cas away with his hands. “Look, I’ll see you in an hour, and if you need anything you can just call me, ‘kay?”

Cas nods and meanders off, disappearing into the crowd without further complaint.

It is nearly ten minutes later, while he is rummaging through some shirts in an attempt to find one in Sam’s size, when Dean realises that this is the first time that Cas has been alone since he lost his grace. A sudden jolt of panic rushes through him, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

Castiel was older than humanity. He had led armies of angels. He had fought against demons and archangels and every monster under the sun. He could handle buying a few Christmas presents.

But, at the same time, Dean can’t help but worry. The dude has questionable social skills at best, and he is still trying to get to grips with his brand new human body. He often has to be reminded to eat or drink water or sleep, and there were several embarrassing occasions in the beginning where he had forgotten entirely.

Dean’s hand itches, his fingers curling towards his back pocket, but he resists the urge to call and check up on Cas. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He tells himself that he should just get his presents for people and then he can meet back up with Cas as soon as possible.

The mall is packed, the usual last rush as people get the last few things they need for Christmas. Conversations and the sound of toddlers crying fight to be heard over the echoing music, festive music adding to the deafening noise. While dodging people, making his way to their meeting place, Dean tries to remember the last time he was in a mall. Certainly not recently - he thinks it may be some time before he met Cas - and he definitely doesn’t remember them making him feel this claustrophobic. The sea of people pushing against him makes him want to throw up, and he finds himself having to duck into the nearest shop to avoid the crowd, shutting his eyes and leaning heavily against a railing.

“Dean?” a deep, familiar voice asks him, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Dean cracks one eye open, laughing when he realises what shop he found Cas in. He knew he should never have introduced him to Hot Topic. “I’m fine, Cas. Just hungry.” he deflects, standing up straight and patting his friend on the shoulder.

Cas gives him a look that says ‘I know you’re lying but I’m going to let you get away with it just this once’ and instead says, “Let me pay for this, and then we can go and get some lunch.”

Not even twenty minutes later, Dean is watching Cas eat a taco for the first time and has completely forgotten that he ever felt bad, because he is laughing too hard to care. Cas looks highly bemused at the stain on his precious trench coat, but Dean thinks that, secretly, he doesn’t mind.

{o0o}

There is no question that they are in the right place when they pull up outside the address they were given a few hours later, if the ridiculous amount of fairy lights and assorted decorations are anything to go by. They can’t help but stare at the blinding display for a moment, before Dean turns to Cas to make sure he remembers the plan. “Okay, so we go in, find our mystery monster-”

“Sam thinks it is a shapeshifter.” Cas interrupts.

“Okay, so we grab this shifter, gank it, grab some food on the way out and then drive home in time for Christmas. You remember the cover story?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dean. We’re the Bassons, and we’re thinking about moving here. Do I need to repeat the rest?”

“Alright then, you ready?” Dean intertwines his fingers with Cas’ - in order to keep their cover, obviously - takes a deep breath, and then opens the door.

A wave of heat rolls out from the crowded house, contrasting with the painfully cold air outside. As they step inside, Dean picks up a delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen, a mixture of turkey and cranberry sauce and mulled wine and gravy. The third thing he notices is the music blaring in from the other room, loud enough that he can feel the vibrations thrum through his body. He laughs when he realises what song it is. Space Cowboy; he couldn’t have picked a more fitting song.

After they had come home from their spontaneous shopping spree, Dean had spent an hour making the perfect couple’s costume. Considering the only supplies he had were ones he had picked up from the dollar store, he was actually pretty impressed with his handiwork. Both him and Cas were wearing their normal fed suits, however, it was the hats that really sold it. Dean had affixed - using an alarming amount of superglue - a strand of purple and blue glittery tinsel to his cowboy hat, and a set of fully functional Christmas lights to Cas’. 

Cas had protested at first - “How are cowboys Christmas related, Dean?” - until he had been convinced by the hidden practicality of it: any weapons they brought with them could be written off as part of the costume. Also, cowboys are awesome. Dean has yet to find someone who can prove him wrong on that point.

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand to get his attention, nodding towards two people who appear to be the hosts of the party. The music shifts into some Christmas classic, and they make their way over so they can start ruling people off the list of suspects.

An hour later, Dean officially decides that he is never attending a Christmas party again. Luckily, they’ve only had to deal with one homophobe, who Dean ‘accidentally’ dropped a whole plate of food on, but that doesn’t mean that none of the other guests are driving him up the wall. It seems that everyone is slightly drunk apart from them, and the only reason Dean hasn’t joined in is because of the dirty looks Cas sends him every time he so much as glances towards the punch bowl. 

It’s the karaoke that does him in. Cas is somewhere (Dean couldn’t tell if he genuinely needed the bathroom, or if that was his attempt at saying he was going to scout the house) and there is a woman wearing a skimpy reindeer outfit and wailing along to Last Christmas. God only knows what caused her to get on top of the table and join in while crying, but Dean suspects the answer includes lots of alcohol and the fact that the man who she had arrived with had disappeared upstairs with an elf some time earlier. Her rendition certainly isn’t going to win any awards.

With Cas not there to see, Dean manages to finish two plastic cups worth of surprisingly nice punch before he can be stopped. Considering the dude has flashing lights on his head, Cas can be remarkably sneaky when he wants to be.

“Dean, I don’t think-”

“Oh, what wonderful costumes!” a woman interrupts, and Dean forces a smile back on his aching face before he turns around to face her, just in time to see wink at him. She is wearing a green dress and is covered in baubles and tinsel, and the man standing next to her is literally wearing a massive cardboard box, wrapped to look like a present. It takes all of Dean’s self control not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Thank you,” Cas says, and Dean wraps an arm around his waist in order to confirm that they are, in fact, a couple. The few times he had touched Castiel, he had been cold; it had felt like touching a corpse. As a human, Cas was like a hot water bottle, and even though the house was boiling, Dean couldn’t help but latch onto him whenever the opportunity arose. 

“I’m Natasha,” the woman continued, staring at Dean in what he had to assume was her version of ‘seductive’ and completely ignoring Cas. “Oh, and this is Cole,” she adds as an afterthought.

Cole also winks at Dean. He has never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he went to Hell. Although, he has also never had both members of a couple separately flirt with him while fake dating someone else.

“I’m Dean, and this is Cas,” he replies, pulling the former angel even closer into him. “My husband.”

“Oh,” Cole says, and Dean doesn’t think he is imagining the disappointed tone.

“Sorry,” Natasha adds, not sounding in any way apologetic. “I didn’t realise you were a couple!”

Dean didn’t think he could make it more obvious, but… if she didn’t believe them, then they might be at risk of blowing their cover. There were already at least seven people who had been avoiding them after the usual weird questions and some not quite realistic ploys to get them to touch a silver coin that they had brought with them. 

“Why’s that?” he asks, and regrets the question almost as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“For starters,” Natasha proclaimed, way too eager for this to end well. “You’ve been standing under mistletoe this whole time and haven’t kissed!”

Dean’s whole body freezes as they both look up, and sure enough, the bastard plastic plant is hanging directly over their heads.

“I didn’t realise,” Cas says, somewhat dazedly.

Dean takes a deep breath - there’s nothing they can do now, not with these nosy, weirdass people watching and waiting and expecting a kiss - and pulls Cas closer, turning to face him so their bodies are pressed together. In the dim lights, the lights on Cas’ hat make his startling blue eyes twinkle like starlight, and Dean wonders how he never saw how gorgeous he was before now. Maybe he had, and it had just been buried along with everything else.

“Dean,” Cas’ low voice rumbles, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Kissing a man is not so different to kissing a woman, and Dean can’t help but notice how much he likes the feeling of Cas’ chapped lips on his own. Something lights up inside him like a firework, and he realises exactly how much he wanted - no, needed this. He feels better than he has in a long time, as if a missing puzzle piece had suddenly slotted into place.

Cas pulls away first, and Dean’s mind suddenly catches up with his body. Holy shit, he just kissed Cas. He barely registers Natasha and Cole walking away, still transfixed by the fact he finds a former angel of the Lord - who is a man - devastatingly handsome.

“Dean. Dean, are you okay?” It is only the feeling of Cas’ body heat leaving him that gets him to look down, absentmindedly fixing the shorter man’s hat.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, choking on the words. “Yeah, I just gotta - I’m just gonna…”

And, like a complete and utter cowardly dick, he walks away.

{o0o}

It has been twenty minutes, so Dean can be fairly certain that Cas isn’t gonna come looking for him. Which is fine. It’s not like he was expecting him to. They only kissed to keep up the pretense, and Dean’s weird behaviour has probably ruined that anyway. It meant nothing.

The problem is that Dean can’t stop thinking about how amazing it had felt to kiss Cas. He had tasted like mulled wine and honey and the promise of a thousand lazy mornings. It had felt like flying and drowning all at once. Dean had never understood when people had described kisses as things that had nothing to do with the act, like earthquakes or lightning or fireworks, but the only way he could explain the ecstasy he had felt when their lips had touch was an act of God.

And that thought only spiraled into another: Dean had kissed an angel of the Lord. An angel. Even though Cas was human now, he still remembered the birth of existence and every word that came out of his mouth was fueled by eons of knowledge and memories and experience. He held himself with a grace that only a true warrior can execute, and to him, Dean must seem so small. How insignificant was he compared to that brilliant man?

Finally, there it is. The real issue. Castiel is a man.

It had taken some time, but Dean had taught himself, eventually, that John Winchester was a terrible parent. In fact, it was generous to call him a parent at all. It was Dean who had raised Sam, raised himself. And, even now, he couldn’t help but fall back into his old mindset, into an old version of Dean who would have done anything for his father’s approval. But, if he is being honest with himself - and, let’s be frank, it’s about time - Castiel was not the first man he had liked. He probably wasn’t even the third. 

In that moment, Dean decides that he doesn’t want to be a coward any longer. If he never expected his life to be a long one, then it is all the more reason to go for what he wants now, rather than later.

Yeah, maybe he’ll lose Cas, but… the possibility of what could await him if Cas does reciprocate is far more frightening than the former angel laughing in his face.

{o0o}

Castiel considers himself very knowledgeable in Dean Winchester’s emotions. He knows exactly how long to avoid Dean after eating a slice of his pie, he knows that he can hold full conversations with just a look, and, as an example, he knows that after their kiss, Dean Winchester was panicking. Badly.

That was fine. Castiel was fine with that. It wasn’t like he had been secretly in love with a man who had repeatedly called him a brother for over ten years. Nothing like that.

Sighing, Cas gently puts his paper plate on the corner of the kitchen table, the food he had been so excited to try half an hour ago now making his stomach roll. He figured that Dean had just needed some air; he would cool down, shove all of his emotions down in true Winchester fashion, and then return and pretend that nothing ever happened. The problem wasn’t just with the fact that Cas would very much be remembering that kiss until the day he died, but that Dean had been a really long time. 

Time moves differently now that he was human. As an angel, everything seemed to move so much faster. There was always something to do, the faint crackling of angel radio like a comforting background noise or a million particles to study. A blink of his eye and a century could have passed, and yet here he is, thirty minutes feeling like an eternity.

It’s by the time Cas has checked every room downstairs that he really starts to worry.

Dean is not in the kitchen stuffing his face, and he is not in the dining room drinking punch, and he is not dancing to the rather annoying upbeat song that is playing in the living room. He is not in the hallway, or on the stairs, or in the bathroom. When Cas starts asking, people give conflicting answers. A bauble saw him go upstairs, a Christmas tree could swear he was in the kitchen, an elf insists that he went outside. 

Since it is the only place he hasn’t checked, Cas heads outside. There, on the floor, is Dean’s stupid hat, the tinsel loose on one side, dangling pathetically into a puddle of melted snow.

Cas immediately calls Sam, who picks up surprisingly quickly. “Cas? What’s up?”

“ImighthavekissedDeanandnowIdon’tknowwhereheis-”

“Cas, slow down,” Sam urges, forcing Cas to take a deep breath before continuing.

“We’re, uh, at a couples’ only party, and we had to kiss and then Dean freaked out but he’s been gone for ages and I think he is in trouble,” Cas says, only marginally slower than before.

“Shit. Okay, send me the address. We’re on our way.”

Sam, Cas thinks as he tries a door handle that he missed before, is excellent at coming up with plans. Maybe it’s the time spent in college, maybe it’s his years of hunting experience, but even over the phone he had pointed out things that Cas had failed to spot. Like, for example, the door to the basement.

Cas turns the phone flashlight on like Dean taught him, the beam still not strong enough to light up the impenetrable darkness. The music fades to a distant hum in the background, becoming distorted and frantic as Cas feels. His eyes have barely adjusted enough to see the familiar but unconscious form on the ground - “Dean?” - before something solid connects with the back of his head, and Cas tumbles forwards, crumpling at the bottom of the stairs.

{o0o}

“Cas?”

Cas groans. When he had finally fallen completely, he had been surprised by how much being human hurts. Something always aches, and everything is so easy to damage. Even the smallest of injuries - a stubbed toe or a papercut - hurts way more than it should.

Apparently, a combination of blunt force trauma to the back of the head and the general bruises one acquires from falling down a flight of stairs hurt a lot more than a stubbed toe.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” A familiar voice asks, and Cas tries to turn his head so that he can see Dean, instead finding out that that particular head movement causes his vision to blur and swim. When he attempts to bring his hands up to survey the damage, he can’t understand why they don't move for a moment, before his brain finally manages to catch up and he remembers the night’s events. 

So, maybe he wasn’t expecting his first kiss with Dean to be followed by being kidnapped and tied up in a basement, but this is a Winchester they are talking about here. 

“Come on, talk to me here.” Dean says, sounding worried.

Cas swallows, aiming to say something to ease Dean’s concern and instead causing a coughing fit. “I’m fine,” he eventually manages to gasp.

Dean snorts. “Sure sound like it.”

They are silent for a moment, the only sounds in the room an echoing drip and Cas’ raspy breaths. Cas isn’t sure how long they have been down there, but since Dean isn’t wriggling about in an attempt to escape, it has probably been long enough that he has already checked whether or not he can untie himself. From what Cas’ fumbling fingers can tell, though, the knots keeping them bound to this stupid pole are very good.

He feels utterly pathetic. He used to be a soldier - he had led armies, fought battles that humans couldn’t even comprehend - and here he was now, entirely useless, taken out by a baseball bat and kept prisoner by a length of rope. If he was still an angel this would have never happened. He could have saved Dean, he would have killed whoever did this, and they would have been back in time to enjoy the end of the party.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, finally breaking the silence.

Dean sighs, and Cas can feel him against his back as his whole body sags down. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do but wait.”

Cas didn’t think he had ever heard Dean give up so easily, and it scared him. “What?”

“I don’t exactly see a way out of this, Cas. I’ve been trying to get these ropes off for half an hour and I think they’re probably just tighter than they were when I started.”

Cas gave an experimental yank, and Dean hissed in pain. Suddenly, the wetness on Cas’ hands made sense. “You’re bleeding, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t reply.

Cas had always thought that his death would be noble. Previously, it had always at least been in battle or a sacrifice, but this was just… pitiful. He was going to die at the hands of some random shapeshifter in someone’s disgusting basement, while wearing a cowboy costume.

“I - uh, I just wanted to say,” Dean starts, sounding unsure, “that I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” he replies, shutting his eyes in an attempt to block out the conversation. If he was going to die, he would rather not be rejected first.

“It was a dick move,” Dean continues, as if he hadn’t heard Cas. “I was just - I mean - I want to say…”

“What, Dean?”

Dean’s voice is barely a whisper. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

Cas’ eyes snap back open, and he hits his head on the pole in his confusion. “You would?”

“You don’t… I thought… I mean, I’m just kid-”

“Shut up,” Cas interrupts, not wanting Dean to panic all over again. “I would like that.”

“Oh. Really? Okay,” Dean replies, and Cas shuffles around until he manages to hold his hand. It’s sticky and wet with blood where Dean’s wrists have been hurt by the ropes, and every aching muscle in Cas’ body screams at the awkward position, but he thinks it might still be the happiest he has ever been.

{o0o}

Dean isn’t sure how long it is until he hears the footsteps on the stairs, but it’s long enough for him to feel much too tired for a fight. Can’t the universe just let him be happy for once? Is it too much to ask to not have to fight tooth and claw for one scrap of peace?

“Well, hello there,” a man’s voice says, and Dean feels Cas stiffen. It sounds oddly familiar, but he can’t quite place his finger on where he would have heard it before.

That is, until a second voice speaks. “What have we got here, Harold?”

The next-door neighbours. The old couple who had been complaining about the parties. Of course the only two people in this godforsaken town who they hadn’t checked were the bad guys. He should have seen it. They should have asked them more questions when they weren’t tied to this stupid pole in this stupid fucking basement.

“A pair of cowboys, Ann,” Harold tuts, and Dean cannot believe he is about to be killed by a weird old couple, of all things. He had prevented the apocalypse at least twice, had defeated God, and yet he was going to be killed by the monster of the week. Who looked like they were about three hundred years old, owned fifty cats and knitted in their spare time.

Ann walks around them, her heels clacking on the stone floor, until she comes to a stop in front of Dean. “What a shame,” she says, looking down at him like he was a stain on her shoe. “I was hoping we’d get a crier. Men rarely cry. Apart from that last fellow, of course.”

Dean’s stomach rolls, and he suddenly regrets eating so many pigs in blankets at the party. 

“What are you?” Cas practically growls, his hand squeezing Dean’s to comfort him.

“Whatever do you mean, son?” Harold asks, and he sounds genuinely confused.

Oh shit, Dean thinks, letting out an amused huff of breath. Great. He isn’t even going to be killed by the monster of the week. He’s gonna be killed by an actual old person.

“Is something funny, sweetie?” Ann demands, frowning.

Dean smiles up at her, deciding that he may as well die how he lived: a snarky bastard. “Sorry, I just can’t believe that I got kidnapped by someone’s grandma.”

Ann steps closer to him, crouching down so she is his height. A sliver of silver reflects in the dim light like a shooting star, slicing downwards and cutting a thin line across Dean’s neck. “Don’t give me cheek, boy.”

“Let’s kill the other one first, sweetheart. Then that rude fella has to watch his boyfriend die.” Harold suggests, spitting out the word ‘boyfriend’ like it physically hurts him.

Dean clutches Cas’ hand tighter, trying not to let the panic that is welling up inside him, cold and merciless, show on his face. He tugs desperately at the ropes around his wrists one more time, hoping for a miracle that he knows isn’t coming.

“Say goodbye, now.” Ann says, and Dean shuts his eyes. He knows that he can’t deal with losing Cas again, even if he’ll be gone soon after. He spares a brief thought wondering where Cas will go when he dies; is he human enough to avoid the Empty? And even so, would he go to Heaven or Hell?

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, because even though he is scared, he knows that Cas deserves to know.

If Cas says anything back, Dean doesn’t hear it over the gunshot.

{o0o}

Dying was not a new experience for Castiel, nor was dying as a human. What was a new experience was the pain he felt in his chest that no bullet or knife could replicate. It was the knowledge that he had the opportunity to be happy and it had been ripped from him. It was knowing that someone loved him and cared for him and was being taken away from him.

When Harold dropped dead instead of Cas, his heart fluttered. Maybe he did have a chance.

“Dean, are you alright?” Sam’s voice calls out, and Cas finally allows himself to relax slightly.

“Sam?” Dean asks, surprise and confusion and relief all mixed together.

Eileen appears from nowhere and stoops down, grinning at Cas and slicing through the ropes. She winks at him but doesn’t say anything, simply helping him to his feet when it becomes obvious he can’t do it by himself. Sam has backed Ann into the corner of the room, his gun pointed at her with an unwavering hand, but Dean whispers something in his ear and he lowers it slightly. He signs something over his shoulder, not even glancing away from the threat, and Eileen rushes off upstairs, essentially shoving the injured Castiel into Dean’s side.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Dean asks gently, wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist to hold him up. His wrists are still bleeding and they are both cold from sitting in a freezing basement for ages, but the simple action fills Cas with a warmness.

“I’ve been in love with you for twelve years, you assbutt,” he mumbles.

Dean smiles down at him, somehow looking charming even covered in dirt and blood, only looking up when Sam clears his throat.

“Look, we should get out of here,” Sam suggests, standing up. He’s tied Ann to the same post that they thought would be their deathbed only a few minutes ago, and he is shooing them towards the stairs back up to the party. “Eileen’s getting someone to call the cops and we don’t wanna be here when they arrive.”

Cas ducks down, for a moment, holding Dean’s hand so he doesn’t completely keel over, and grabs the two hats off the ground. Reaching up, he puts his on before gently placing Dean’s on his head. The tinsel is falling off on one side, the lights have run out of battery, and they are both caked in dirt, but it still makes Dean smile.

“Let’s go home,” Dean says, leaning down and softly kissing Cas.

{o0o}

Much to Dean’s surprise, Sam and Eileen said nothing about his new relationship with Cas. In fact, when he tried to bring it up - he knew Sam had seen them kissing for Christ’s sake - Sam just shook his head and rolled his eyes at Dean. “Jody owes me fifty dollars,” was all he said, and their discussion was over.

Cas didn’t seem too perturbed by the whole situation, and Dean found himself wondering whether it was just him who found their new relationship strange. Not that anything much had changed, for that matter. They both behaved the exact same way, with added kissing. So what if Sam thought Dean was weird for still calling Cas ‘buddy’? He wasn’t the one dating a former angel.

What Dean had decided, after their fun little kidnapping escapade, was that Cas deserved an awesome Christmas. It was his first one as a human, after all, and what kind of boyfriend would Dean be if he didn’t show Cas all the wonders of the holiday season?

And that is how they found themselves turning the drive home into a Christmas road trip.

Cas wore his reindeer antlers wherever possible, and Dean took a million photos of him. On the first day, they visited a Christmas market. Dean thought it was much too busy and annoying, but it was all worth it for the smile Cas had after drinking his first hot chocolate. On the second day, they went to a drive-in movie. Cas gave both the funniest and most irritating running commentary that Dean had ever heard, having to remind him every five minutes that “it’s a romcom, Cas. It’s not supposed to make sense.”

On Christmas Eve, they spent most of the day driving to make sure they got home in time for the dinner that Sam and Eileen had promised. They sang carols at full volume and blasted Christmas songs and Dean taught Cas how to play the air guitar. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he had felt such a sense of freedom and happiness. Maybe it was just a Christmas miracle.

Christmas day rolled around, and it was the nicest Christmas that Dean could remember having. Sam and Eileen had decorated the entire bunker with tinsel and streamers, and had even managed to bring in a huge tree from outside. So maybe not all the decorations on it were technically Christmas related, but the silver bullets were shiny and although no one was quite sure what the pentagram they were using a star on the top did, it looked pretty cool.

By the evening, they had eaten enough food to feed twenty people for a week and had exchanged presents. Sam was sitting at the table with his new fancy pens, Eileen had disappeared to take a shower with her new soaps, and Cas and Dean were firmly planted on the couch. Cas’ new fuzzy socks were warm and ticklish against Dean’s feet, and the angel was a surprisingly good cuddler. 

All of a sudden, Dean sat up, dragging Cas with him. “Come on, dude. We should dance.”

Cas snorted but agreed, wrapping his arms around Dean tightly. They swayed slowly to the music, his head on Cas’ shoulder, gently singing along to the slow music.

Now you hang from my lips

Like the Gardens of Babylon

With your boots beneath my bed

Forever is the sweetest con.

Dean’s mouth twists into a smile. “I could spend forever with you,” he whispers, and he leans down to kiss his angel again.

[jeanjauthor]

This thread is mandatory reading for everyone.

(Full transcript between the asterisks.)

****

The straight line distance between Washington, D.C. and Dover, Delaware is less than 85 miles. It takes a helicopter about 40-45 minutes to make the trip. I was 19 years-old, and it was my first time riding a helicopter. I barely remember any of it. I was distracted. (thread)

I was more nervous than I've ever been in my life about what was to come next, and so, as this Black Hawk floated above the earth with my casket team--me being the youngest and most junior--I could only think: "What if I mess this up? What if I fail? How will I live with myself?" 

That's how it should be in a moment like this. You should be nervous. You should let that sharpen your focus. Because there is no room for error when handling the remains of a service member returning to the U.S. after being killed in combat. You should strive for perfection.

The helicopter landed, and my anxiety spiked. In retrospect, I recall noticing the silence of the rest of the casket team. These were young men, mostly early 20s, loud and boisterous and chests puffed. Now, they were quiet. It was unnerving. 

When you're a new enlisted soldier in an infantry unit--the FNG--you're treated like you know nothing. Because you don't. Everyone around you is older and vastly more competent and confident. Yet, in this moment, despite having done this before, they were all nervous, too.

Scary. 

We were brought into a holding area near the tarmac on Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, where the remains of service members who have died in a theater of operations arrive on a C-17 transport plane. We rehearsed our steps. And did it again. And then again. No room for error.

The plane arrived. The ramp was lowered. The transfer vehicle that would complete the next leg of the journey was parked. Our casket team was positioned. We were now each wearing ceremonial white cotton gloves we had held under the bathroom faucet. Damp gloves have a better grip. 

We’re a casket team, but these are not caskets. They're transfer cases: rectangular aluminum boxes that bear a resemblance to a crate for production equipment. Yet, the dimensions are obvious. Any given civilian would take only a few moments to realize that's for carrying bodies. 

It's called a "dignified transfer", not a "ceremony", because officials don't want loved ones to feel obligated to be there while in mourning, but it is as highly choreographed as any ceremony, probably more so.

It is done as close to perfection as anything the military does.

I was positioned in formation with my casket team, and I could see the transfer cases precisely laid out, dress right dress, in the cavernous space of the C-17, each draped with an American flag that had been fastened perfectly. I remember my stomach dropping. There is simply no space for other thoughts. Your full brain capacity is focused on not screwing up.

The casket team steps off in crisp, exact steps toward the plane, up the ramp (please, oh god, don't slip), aside the case, lift up ceremonially, face back and down the ramp. During movement, everyone else is saluting: the plane personnel, the OIC (officer-in-charge), any senior NCOS and generals, and occasionally, the president.

The family is sometimes there.

No ceremonial music or talking. All silent, save for the steps of the casket team. 

You don't see the family during this. You're too focused. There are other distractions. Maybe they forgot, but no one told me there'd be 40-60 lbs. of ice in the transfer case to prevent decomposition over the 10-hour plane ride. You can sometimes feel it sloshing around a bit.

Some of the transfer cases feel slightly heavier, some slightly lighter. The weight is distributed among six bearers, so it's not a big difference.

But then you carry a case that's significantly lighter, and you realize those are the only remains they were able to recover. 

It probably takes all of 30-40 seconds to carry the transfer case from the plane to the mortuary vehicle, but it felt like the longest walk ever each time. The case is carefully placed in the back of the mortuary vehicle, and the casket team moves away in formation. 

I don't know how to describe the feeling after you're done and on your way back to D.C., but it's a mixture of intense relief that you didn't screw up and profound sobriety over what you've just done and witnessed. I wouldn't call it a good feeling. Maybe a numbed pain. 

From the outside, the most egalitarian place in America is a military transfer case. They all look exactly the same: an aluminum box covered with the American flag.

We didn't know their names, rank, race, ethnicity, gender, religion, sexual orientation--none of it. All the same. 

Whatever cruel and unfathomable politics had brought all of us to that moment--from the killed service member in the box to those of us carrying it to the occasional elected official who attends to pay respects--there were no politics to be found during a dignified transfer. 

The fallen service members I helped receive and carry during this part of the journey to their final resting place were not "losers" or "suckers". They were selfless and heroic, and I had the honor of being among the first to hold them when they returned home. 

There are service members around the world involved in caring for our war fatalities. The mortuary specialists, the casket teams, the family liaisons--so many people who work to ensure that this final act is done with the greatest amount of dignity and honor, seeking perfection.

I suppose the one thing we all took for granted is that dignity would always be affirmed by all our civilian leaders to those service members who gave everything.

I never would have predicted any official, let alone a sitting president, would insult fallen service members.

I cannot adequately describe my anger at Donald Trump for being so willing to send service members halfway around the world to die on his own behalf and then call them "losers" for doing so.

This coward is unfit for his office and the power it holds.

He needs to go.

(/thread )

POSTSCRIPT: I always feel bad when I can't thank everyone who says kind things for something I write because the mentions simply get overwhelming, but I appreciate all of you. When I get angry, I channel it into writing. I'm grateful it resonated. <3

****

[krnaturalphoto]

Running 2019 Pine Creek Challenge 100 Miler

This year has been the most challenging year of running for me yet. Not because I set big goals for myself, I mean yes because I set big goals for myself, but also because of other struggles. Going into this year, after running only two 50k’s I decided it was time to push myself farther and longer. First I decided that I would take on a 50 mil race. Later I decided that this would also be the year I took on a 100 mile race. This all before I even ran my 3rd official 50k. I didn’t even wait to see how a 50 mile race would feel before diving in head first into the 100 mile pool. I put it all on the table early on in the year.

It seemed so….. Simple? I would train like my previous year for my 50k in May. That 50k would be my longest training run for my 50 mile race about a month after. The 50 mile race would be my longest training run leading into my 100 mile race two months later. The 50 mile race would also give me some experience at a new distance so I would have an idea of what to expect through the half-way point of my 100 mile race and that seemed like important knowledge to have.

Then life happened and all the plans and “simplicity” melted away. Like many runners I got injured with what turned out to apparently be hip bursitis. I ended up injured before I even got to the point in my year where I would run my 50k. So I tried to rest and recover as best I could and went into my 50k feeling under trained and nervous if I would even be able to finish. Worlds End 50k was the most painful and grueling race I have suffered through to date. I was in so much pain I walked the last 10 miles and almost every step of those ten miles caused pain in my hip. But I finished. I learned that if I had to I could tough it out and endure the pain as long as needed to cross the finish line. Not what I wanted from that race but a valuable lesson that would pay dividends later.

I had a month to try to get right physically for my 50 mile race. I got as much treatment and rest as I could and maintain my fitness for my 50 mile race. Finger Lakes 50’s 50 miler did not go as well as Worlds End. I was not in as much pain from my hip but it was hampering me, slowing me down and probably causing me to expend unnecessary energy. In the end being out in the heat and humidity of a July summer day did me in. I couldn’t keep up with the time I needed to move on to the third and final loop of the 50 mile race. But I did finish a 50k. The heat punished me. I was dizzy and wobbly on my feet at times. Heat exhaustion was hitting me hard. Then the rains came and I bounced back allowing me to finish in a decent time and feeling ok instead of suffering through to the end. Even though I wasn’t able to finish the 50 miles and gain the experience of feeling what 50 miles felt like I learned that I could bounce back from a physical low and keep moving on.

Training between the 50 mile attempt and my 100 mile race was not ideal but it was better than I had gotten any time since April. I decided that in order to reduce the impact on my hip I would focus on making sure I got in my long runs and decrease all other mileage. I ran regular 3 mile runs during the week and then a long run on the weekends. I was able to get in more long ruins during this time frame than any time since April and it included two 20 mile runs in the same week which I feel like were crucial to my physical preparedness and my mental preparedness. I knew my hip was getting better. I thought it would probably be an issue but not cost me the race. I was actually becoming more concerned about my long standing right ankle pain that tends to flare up with long runs, which seemed to be getting worse.

As the week of the race approached I was getting more and more nervous about it. Would I really be able to do this thing? Anxiety and fear were closing in on me. Was my training good enough? Would I be prepared? Was a physically strong enough? Was I mentally strong enough? I took the whole week leading up to the race off from running. I focused entirely on recovery and being as healthy as I possibly could be going into the race. I included a massage from Soul Ease Massage to help ensure that my hips and legs were in as good shape as possible. I am not sure you can ever feel relaxed when you have a 100 mile race looming.

If there was one secret weapon I knew I had to get me through this race, it was my crew. I was going to have a great crew, of my wife and my friends, out there taking care of me at the race. They would not let me fail.

The night before the Pine Creek Challenge my wife and I met up with two of our friends to camp for the night at the race location. We hung out. We chatted. I tried to relax. One thing we talked about is what to do if things don’t go according to plan. I had planned for this race more than I had ever planned or prepared for any other race or maybe even event in my life. I was organized. I had everything labeled. I had times for when I hoped to be in and out of aid stations. I planned for the best case scenario, even though I knew that the race was unlikely to play out that way. I knew what I wanted to happen and what I had in mid as more reasonable though still quite lofty goal for a first 100 mile race. I wanted to finish in under 24 hours. I thought that I had a good chance at making that happen as long as the first half of the race went reasonably well. I knew that a sub 24 hour goal was very likely not going to happen but it was the goal and it was really hard to think about anything outside of that goal. But we talked about just thinking about what is going ot happen if plan A doesn’t work out and plan B doesn’t work out and so on and so on. What do you do? How do you proceed? I think it was good to go through that mental exercise to just think that there are so many different ways that this event could unfold, none of which could be anticipated maybe. This perhaps is where experience would be valuable. If you have done this before I think it is easier to have contingency plans or at east to know what to do to get you back on track.

I sometimes have trouble sleeping before a race, but not usually too bad. I am also not much of a dreamer while I sleep. Well the night before my first 100 mile race was going to be different. I slept OK until about 4 AM when I was awakened by a nightmare. In this nightmare I had a full blown panic attack and completely shut down and was curled up in the fetal position in the tent and could not even manage to put on my clothes for the race. So, that resulted in me staring at the ceiling of the tent for an hour before my alarm went off at 5 AM and I got up and started to get ready for the race. I was not as anxious getting up and getting ready for the day as I thought I would be. There were the normal pre-race jitters but not anything major. I managed to not forget anything significant before starting. It was surprising to me that for the 6 AM start I still was going to end up needing my headlamp as I set out. I was not expecting that. We got to the start line. I kissed my wife and hugged my friends and then I set off on an adventure.

The start was hard. Not physically hard but mentally hard. My strategy was to go out at a 12 minute per mile pace, running a mile then walking 1 minute, much slower than I would go at any other type of flat run. The first bunch of people pulled away from me. Then another group of people pulled away. Then more people caught up to me and passed me. I kept trying to go slow. Eventually I seemed to essentially be alone on the trail. As I was alone on the trail I struggled a bit to stay out of my head. I began to think about all the things that could go wrong during this journey. I had to tell myself out loud multiple times to get out of your head. As the sun rose I stopped to take some photos along the way and used my GoPro while running some. I saw an eagle fly low along a swampy area and land in a tree, so that was a nice way to start off the race. It was 5.6 miles to the first aid station and I tried to go as slow as I could, but when I arrived my crew reported to me that I was still 5 minutes ahead of my planned pace. It was nice to get that first section over and see my crew though. The course is a multi out and back course to complete the full 100 miles and I was already at the terminus of one end so it was time to turn around and run back the other way for along time.

My crew got me out of the aid station without wasted time and I headed back the way I came. I needed to go slower. I took the time to use my GoPro more and take other photos. Run slower, walk longer to slow my pace. I got back to the swampy area and saw a great blue heron and snapped a few photos. I saw a few people with their dog and a woman with her camera and she said this is one of her favorite places to come for photography, so I made a mental note of that. She wasn’t kidding though because that bald eagle was still up in its perch on the large tree in the swamp. I tried to capture a few more photos of it. I might be the only one able to tell there is an eagle in the photos though because it is so far away. Eventually, I started to see runners from the other races of different distances happening on the same trail coming towards me on the trail. That made things a little more interesting on this return trip. I eventually got back to the start line where the next aid station was. I got some fuel and some hydration. Then waited forever some non-runner who decided to occupy the portapotty at the aid station, despite all the others available for spectator use, so that I could finally pee. That was probably the biggest frustration of that sort for me the entire race though, so I will call that a win.

Next was a 3.4 mile jaunt to the next aid station. I arrived at the aid station felling pretty good. Still going at what felt like the right pace. On plan. My hip wasn’t giving me any serious problems. It felt tight and maybe a little uncomfortable but not painful. My ankle was a little sore but nothing major. My crew made sure I had what I needed and got me going through the aid station without wasting too much time which is the goal. The next section would start the portion of the trail that really went through the valley.

The next aid station was nearly 8 miles away but I wouldn’t see my crew again for 16 miles. This 16 miles between seeing my crew again is one of the places I struggled most mentally. I had done marathon to 50k distances 8 times over the last three years. I thought I knew what to expect from it. I thought that on a flat course going the relatively slow pace for me that I had planned to go and was sustaining that the first 30 miles would feel relatively easy or at least not too hard. Maybe that was just being naive especially considering how my training had went. But during this 16 miles to the next time I would see my crew I really felt like I was struggling mentally. I felt like I was going slower than I wanted to when I was running and that I was walking longer than I wanted to to rest after each mile of running. My legs felt tired and sluggish and sore already. I really began to think that maybe I had gotten in over my head. If I was already feeling like this and it hadn’t even been 30 miles yet, what on earth was the rest of the race going to feel like?

One things that was a cool uplift for me during this 16 miles alone was seeing something I had never seen before. As I ran down the trail eventually I came to this spot where I saw someone had scratched out in large letters in the gravel the world snake with an arrow pointing to the left. I was instantly curious. Was someone just fucking with runners or was there really a snake over there in the rocks along the side o the trail? I had never seen a rattle snake in the wild but I was well aware of all the reports of snakes along this trail and the potential to see one. So I walked over to the side of the trail cautiously and looked at the rocks. Sure enough there was a rather large snake with a baby toy attached to its tail slithering underneath some rocks. I called back to a runner I had recently passed and let him know that there was a snake over here so that he could be aware and take caution. I did not get close to the snake or even try to get a photo of the snake. Those who know me are probably surprised by this. It was cool to be out doing something entirely new to me and see something entirely new to me as well.

After being a bit down physically and mentally it was a great relief to finally see my crew waiting for me a the Blackwell aid station. The aid station is half a mile before the turn around so I ran out to the turn around first as I dropped off my pack for my crew to refill. My first pacer of the day accompanied out to the turn around and we talked about how the race was going. Then I came back to the aid station and ate some food and got some extra hydration. I also took some Tylenol for my hip and ankle and had some bio freeze applied to my ankle. The first 30 miles had been harder than I thought they would be. That much was clear.

My pacer would accompany me the next 26 miles. We headed out to start the next phase of this journey. At least for this trip through the valley I would have someone along for the ride. WE talked quite a bit through the first 8 miles or so. We talked a lot about nature. I think I complained about all my grievances. I am kinda surprised my pacer didn’t just run off ahead of me or at least stay far enough ahead or behind that they couldn’t hear me anymore. This section started off strong. We ran 3+ miles without stopping for a walk break. Which was OK at the time because I was feeling strong. I didn’t actually feel like I needed a break after every mile which is how I had been feeling during the previous 16 miles. This run of 26 miles with my first pacer went OK. Not as well as I had hopped, but not as bad as it could have after how I felt during the end of the first 30 miles. I could feel myself slowing down some eventually. At times running much slower than I would have liked and at times taking much longer walking breaks than I would have liked. I stopped at the aid stations for extra food and hydration along the way. I had more bio freeze applied to the painful areas which seemed to be getting a little worse with more time on my feet.

At one point early on during this 26 miles with my first pacer we saw a group of people gathered up blocking almost the entire trail and many of them were over along the edge of the trail near the rocks. As we approached I knew they were looking at or for a snake. They were so close. I told my friend to get his camera out because there was about to be a Kodak moment. I don’t wish people harm, but these people were being dumb and unsafe. They were way too close they were essentially standing in the rock pile and had their phones out trying to get photos. They very easily could have gotten bitten and who gets blamed for that, the snake. Those kind of things really get me riled up. As we passed by I could see that there was a more light colored rattle snake among the rocks. Then shortly thereafter I saw a large almost completely black rattle snake out in the open along the rocks. It was the first time I was able to see the entire body of a rattle snake. It was quite large. They are amazing creatures and I am thrilled to be able to share a trail with them and pay them the appropriate respect they deserve by keeping my distance. I may be one of the few people happy to see a rattle snake on the trail, but I was secretly hoping to see one during the race.

Eventually my pacer were arriving at the 50 mile turn around aid station. The people running this aid stations had it going right. There were lights along the trail lighting the way. There was a fire. The crowd there was cheering so loudly. It was really making me emotional. I was getting choked up at all the people there cheering and supporting the runners out here like me. It is truly a blessing to be part of a larger community of runners like this.

When we arrived I took more Tylenol at the mile 50 turn around aid station and got more bio freeze. I don’t really remember much about this aid station, because I was too overcome with emotion from all the support from my crew, which kept expanding as more and more of my friends showed up over the course of the day, and the people at running the aid station itself cheering and high fiving. I changed my shoes here because I thought half way through a 100 mile race would be a good time to put on shoes with more cushion. My crew got me in and out of this aid station in good time. At this aid station I was picking up a new pacer, my best friend was going to run the next 9 miles with me.

It was really nice to be able to run part of this race with my best friend. We haven’t been able to run together much since early in the year. She may be my friend but she had no sympathy for my foolishness of getting myself into this race. She was going to make sure I stuck to my plan of running and then walking. She was not going to let me take it easy. She pushed me to run as much as I could and then told me when it was time to rest. I think I almost begged for a little longer time to rest at one point. I think she allowed me 30 more seconds to walk. Talking and sharing miles despite the slave driving was nice. I think the sharing of miles with friends is something you can only understand if you are a runner. During our 5+ miles together my friend informed me that our other friend who had been injured for the last month or more and not running was feeling better and may be running with me from the next aid station.

I arrived at the next aid station and fueled up. Got what I needed and was ready to head out. Sure enough my friend was ready to run with me. We headed out for the next 3+ miles to the next aid station. This might be one of the few ways that deviating from your plan can be a good thing. It was so nice to be able to share miles with my two running friends whom I have shared more miles with than anyone. Picking up a new pacer, an unexpectedly new pacer can only be good when it is your friend who you know would have wanted to be your pacer anyway, but due to injury wasn’t able to plan for it. She had been cleared to run just the other day and wanted to share some miles with me on this journey and it doesn’t get much better than that. She was not quite as much a hard ass on this section. I ran as much as I could but I needed longer rests, or at least I took advantage of my friend to get longer rests.

I arrived at the mile 65 aid station feeling pretty good all things considered. I enjoyed running with my friend that I didn’t expect to be able to share any miles with. I was in good spirits. I was tired but doing OK. The plan was to resupply water and food in my pack, add a warmer layer of clothes as it was now getting dark and pick up my new pacer. Then it happened. It felt like someone just pulled the plug on me and the power went out. I went from feeling fine and ready to go to crashing hard. I started to feel light headed and then nauseous. I thought I might throw up. My crew tried to keep me standing and get me some food. Then I started to experience things I had never experienced. My arms started to go numb and get tingly. My mouth started to get tingly. I was losing control of my body. It was shutting down. I was losing it. My mouth got number and number. I couldn’t feel or move my mouth or tongue. My left hand curled up into a claw. My hand was clenched and I couldn’t move it. My crew mates were literally holding me up. They got me seated and just started to literally pour sugar into me. Cups of Coke went in. My crew literally holding cups to my inoperative mouth and pouring little bits in so I could swallow. It was like being a helpless child being fed by your family. I couldn’t even drink from the cup if they held it to my mouth they had to literally manage to pour it in my mouth so I could swallow. I don’t know if I literally thought about quitting, but if I was going to it would have been here in this moment. There is no way I could have made it through this without them. My chosen family, My wife and my friends. This is why they mean the world to me. They would not let me fail.

My wife told me later that she had to walk away because it was too hard for her to see me like that and she didn’t want me to see her upset. At one point I looked at my inoperative curled up left hand and said “It’s the claw” making a Friends joke that probably only my wife would get, but she said when she heard that she knew I was still in there and that I was going to be OK. I think that is also when I knew I was going to be OK too. I was able to keep my mind right even in this lowest moment of what felt like at the time there would be no coming back from. My crew kept working on me. Getting more calories in me, more Coke to drink. Then I could slowly feel it. My body started to respond. I started to get the feeling back in my arms and my hand. I could actually use my hand. At one point I was able to hold a cup and I thought drink on my own, but apparently my face was still numb and I just poured Coke down my face. But it was OK. I am pretty sure I laughed at that. Eventually as my body recovered my crew got me some warm clothes. I put on a light long sleeve shirt and a light jacket. I put on a pair of wind pants. I put on a dry hat and a buff to keep my ears warm. I eventually regrouped and headed out with a new pacer.

Just reflecting on this moment in time makes me emotional. This was one of the toughest moments I have ever endured and I owe it all to my crew for getting me thorough. Literally propped up on the shoulders of my friends. Fed and clothed by my friends. Taken care of by my family. I owe the next 35 miles to them. If I did not have them there my day would have ended at that aid station and I would never know anything else.

After arriving at the mile 65 aide station in such good shape, leaving that aid station was not the same. I felt like I was barely moving. I could move but just had no energy. The next 16 miles till I saw my crew was going to be a very slow walk in the dark. Thank god for pacers. I don’t know how people ran in the dark, alone and tired. Thankfully my pacers worked to keep me engaged. We talked about Star Wars. There was line dancing. I think the best I felt was when we actually listened to Christmas music, Straight No Chaser, I actually had the energy to sing along with the music. It really helped lift my spirits at a time where I was moving way slower than I had hoped to. I eventually just got exhausted during this 16 mile section. I don’t know if was the normal kind of exhaustion that one would expect or if I was suffering more because of my crash at mile 65. But, I was struggling to not just fall asleep while standing up. My eyes kept closing. I was essentially just staggering down the path. Often not in a straight line. I am pretty sure that if I were alone I would have fallen off the trail, into the ditch or into the water. Thank god for amazing friends willing to walk miles in the dark with you and play ping pong with your body bouncing you from one edge of the path to the other to keep you safe. I felt like I needed to be on a leash. I eventually hallucinated that there was a huge wagon wheel in the middle of the path. Then I saw or at least am pretty sure I actually saw my first every flying squirrel in the wild. I saw something fly across the trail from the trees on the right and land in a tree on the left then climb up the tree. Not a good look due to it being dark, but I could only imagine it was a flying squirrel or another hallucination. Another tough part about this 16 miles was that my feet began to hurt. I could tell I was getting blisters on my feet and that was not going to be good. I thought that the shoes I changed into had caused the problem. I decided that I was going to change back into the shoes that I started with at the mile 81 aid station when I saw my crew again. We also decided while walking that I was going to try and take a brief five to ten minute nap at the aid station because I was just staggering around so much that I was wasting too much time and energy and not making enough forward progress and I thought that if I could just close my eyes for a few minutes I would recover enough energy to make much more substantial progress in the next phase.

I got to the mile 81 aid station and began to do all the normal things. Refresh food and water. Change shoes. Reapply anti chafe. Then it hit me again. My body started to revolt for a second time. As I sat in a chair I got light headed and nauseous. I started to lose feeling again. Me team sprung into action immediately getting me what I needed. They started to load me up with Coke again. They responded to my needs immediately despite what had been a long and strenuous day for them as well. They were right there to take care of me and get me out of this funk. They pulled me out of it faster than last time and with less severe symptoms. Then while wrapped in a space blanket I tried to fall asleep. Somehow the exhaustion that was overcoming me on the trail would not grant me sleep that I felt I needed. I had expected that I would close my eyes and instantly pass out, but it didn’t happen. I don’t know if it was the shock of the crash and then recovery but now my eyes wouldn’t stay closed and I couldn’t slep. Finally, filled with frustration I stood up ready to set out on another 16 mile trek through the valley in the dark. I knew I would have a pacer for this section but I learned to my surprise that my best friend would accompany for this 16 mile section. She knew I was moving slow and had gone fewer miles than anyone else that could pace me at that point so she joined me.

I think it was reassuring, when I was so low, to have someone on the trail with me that I had shared a lot of miles with. Someone who knew me well and could keep me going. We started out on a slow pace. Shortly after we left we saw the only other runner that remained behind me. He needed to push to make the cut off time at the mile 81 aid station and we encouraged him as he went by. Not too long after we saw him this same runner who was struggling caught me from behind and passed me with a huge surge, he had gotten another wind and was moving well. I was now DFL. I could accept being DFL as long as I finished. For a while as we moved down the path I actually almost reveled in the idea of being DFL. Early on during this stretch I was moving slowly but I at least felt more awake than I had previously even though I didn’t sleep. I don’t remember much about those first half dozen miles. I know that we were a little concerned about making the cut off time at the mile 89 aid station so we tried to speed up and when we finally arrived there id din’t even stop. I just essentially walked on through.

At some point during this 16 mile stretch my pacer could tell I was feeling better and she started to encourage me to pick up the pace some. We eventually could see the person who had passed me to leave me in last place. My pacer was like, oooh we can catch him. She encouraged me to move faster. We added some more very slow running into the mix. Honestly I am not sure I even wanted to pass them. Something in my mind wanted to just stay in last. There seemed to be more honor in being DFL than to be second to last. Or maybe I was just afraid that I would over take him only to be passed again. Eventually the mix of running and walking allowed me to pass him. But then we ran out of water and despite being well hydrated I was too afraid to push it with still a while to go until the next aid station. There was at least 3 miles and I was afraid of another crash which I could not afford this late into the race. So we dropped back to a walk and stayed ahead of him although he gained on us. It always seemed like we were farther away from that last aid station than seemed possible. Seeing a sign post for 1.7 miles until the aid station area was almost soul crushing. My pacer was critical to getting me through this tough section She kept me entertained with singing and dancing to music she played from her phone. It was slow going and would have been easy to get demoralized but she kept me uplifted. We decided that at the last aid station I would drop off my pack and pick up a hand held for the last 3.4 miles. Dropping of my heavy pack at the last aid station was something that never occurred to me. This is one of the many reasons yo have pacers. They will think of things you will not.

We FINALLY arrived at the aid station. I dropped my pack and grabbed a hand held and a gel. FYI, I didn’t even have a hand held at the race, it was one of my previous pacers hand helds. Have I mentioned how awesome my crew was for me. As I stopped at the last aid station briefly and ate some food I was once again overtaken by the person we had passed earlier. I was back in last. But I headed out on that last 3.4 miles anyway.

My pacer insisted I was going to run this last 3.4 miles. I was not so sure. But she pushed me anyway. She somehow knew what I had left to give to this race. I don’t know how she knew, but she knew. I sure as hell didn’t know. So, guess what? I ran. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t pretty but I averaged around a 13 minutes/mile over the last 4 miles. I hadn’t run a 13 minute mile since mile 35. I am not sure how this was possible. I ran and took walk breaks. Somehow feeling pretty good. Walking just enough to give me strength for another push. My pacer took charge. She told me when to run and she told me when I could walk. It was starting to get sunny and hot as the morning sun continued to rise in the sky so we tried to run through the shady areas and walk in the sunny places. I didn’t try to over think it. I just listened to my pacer and tried to do what she was encouraging me to do. She believed that I could do this and somehow I was doing it. My legs carried my better and felt stronger than they ha at any point over the last 30+ miles. I don’t know how it is possible. When I left the last aid station I was last. I quickly passed the guy who had passed me again to put me in last. Then as we ran down the trail we began to see other runners up ahead. My pacer told me we could catch them. I had my doubts. She encouraged me to keep moving. Run to that tree and then we will walk, she told me. Then run to that post and we can walk. This strategy was working. We caught and passed multiple runners. I passed 6 runners in the last 3.4 miles. I can’t even imagine that being possible at the end of a 100 mile journey especially considering how dead I felt just a shot time ago. The only person we saw that I did not catch was the person who turned out to be a pacer. But that guy looked like he was a runner. He kept looking back at us and then speeding up like he was trying to keep me from catching up to him, so my pacer was like lets catch him. So I chased someone down the trail who wasn’t even technically in the race. But I guess whatever keeps you motivated right. I got to the final turn off the trail and up the gravel road to the finish line and could not believe how good I felt. I heard my crew start cheering for me. My family was waiting for me. I started to run faster and a little faster. My wife was there waiting for me. I was so happy to see her. She started running with me. I ran as hard as I could. I basically sprinted through the finish line with my wife by my side. It was amazing to feel that alive and have that much juice left in my legs after such a long journey. The energy that my family was giving me was amazing. Having them there for me right up until the end was amazing. I crossed the finish line and hugged my wife so hard. I cried. I was just completely overcome with emotion. My whole crew came and congratulated me on finishing this journey. Hugs and handshakes all around. I am so thankful for the person who took the picture of me with my finisher awards and my crew by my side. That is a memory I will never forget.

from Running 2019 Pine Creek Challenge 100 Miler

[shiningamongdarkness]

Chapter 04. Too dangerous

Shining among Darkness

By WingzemonX 

Chapter 04. Too dangerous 

The next morning, Matilda woke up very early, stood up as fast as she could for two cups of coffee in the restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel, and then poured a little more in a thermos for the road. She climbed into her rented vehicle and drove north along with the first rays of the sun. It would be a long and tiring journey of a few hours, in which she would have no other companion but the radio and her thermos.

The original route she had planned the day before, before her call with Eleven, was to head straight to Port Townsend, through Portland, and perhaps stopping for a few moments in Olympia to rest and have a more real breakfast. That only route would end up taking probably between four and five hours. Once in Port Townsend, she would have to wait and get the ferry would take her to Moesko Island, where the Morgan Horse Farm was located. Taking into account the wait and the time of the tour, in the worst scenario she expected to be there between one and two p.m.

But, as we said, that was her original route; the one she had in mind when she got up that morning, was a new one. It included in Tacoma, instead of taking the northwesterly direction to Port Townsend, deviated towards the northeast, toward Seattle. It would take several additional hours. She had planned to go to Seattle after going to Moesko, but the call with Eleven had made her feel that going there must be a priority.

According to her information, for three years Cody Hobson, an old friend of her from the Foundation, worked in Seattle as a biology teacher in a middle school. Cody also had the Shining, but one unique, very different from hers, very different from Eleven's, and very different from primarily any other that she had known until that moment; but, surprisingly, maybe a little similar to Samara's, or at least that's what she theorized. That is why she had considered it a good idea to talk to him, especially taking advantage of their relative closeness. But now perhaps he could also shed some light on what had Eleven so worried, or what was the other experience she was supposed to need. And even if he couldn't, with his different perception thanks to his Shining, she was sure he would be helpful.

At Olympia, Matilda stopped at a Denny's for breakfast, rest and stretch her legs. She took advantage of the stop, which she considered was already at a prudent hour to call, to communicate with Mr. Morgan, and move the time of their meeting to later, after four or five; there didn't seem to be any problem. She also tried to communicate with Cody so as not to be surprised him, but apparently, the last number she had of him was not the most recent one. Matilda sent a message to Eleven, asking her to pass on his new phone number if she had it. For her good luck, yes, she did; to her bad luck, she answered her when was on the road again, and she couldn't read it until an hour later when was about to cross the Seattle limits. And even so, when she tried to call with that new number, the phone rang, but of the three attempts she made, none of them got an answer.

Matilda stopped for a moment to think. What if she had made that detour in vain? What if Cody was not even in Seattle? Maybe he had gone to Alabama to visit her mother, and she had ventured without even knowing.

It took her a few minutes to decide, but in the end, chose to go to the school when he works and take the risk. When she arrived, she showed up at the Principal's Office as a colleague of Cody Hobson, whom she was looking for an urgent personal matter. For her fortune, they informed her the person she was looking for was present and teaching at that time. That made her sigh in relief. They offered to send him to call, but she opted to go on her own to see him in the classroom, foreseeing the recess time was near. Although they were reluctant in the beginning, her very effective power of conviction gave her the way.

Matilda followed the indications given to find Room B of the seventh grade, whose door was open. When she was a few inches from the entrance, she could hear, and clearly recognize, the teacher's voice inside.

"... and this particular class of monarch butterfly is one of the longest species," pronounced the soft and somewhat playful voice inside the classroom "since they can get to live for eight to nine months."

Matilda stopped near the doorframe, and peeked subtly, trying not to call attention at all. Standing in front of the room, she saw a young man, somewhat thin, with blond hair, slightly long and straight, with a tuft combed to the right, which completely covered his forehead. His dun eyes peered out from behind a pair of thin-framed glasses. He wore an interesting outfit, of blue jeans, a green checkered shirt, and a casual brown coat, which, thanks to his complexion, made it look like it was bigger than it really was. Matilda could not help but smile a little; a pair of boots and a hat, and he would have the typical attire of a young Alabama cowboy, though his remarkable lack of facial hair would not help him to secure that appearance.

His old friend Cody looked just as she remembered him; his somewhat boyish face made him look considerably younger than he really was. But few knew that beneath that squalid and seemingly feeble appearance, one of the most powerful possessors of the Shining with whom she had had the opportunity to cross himself was hiding, as well as one of the most intelligent.

Matilda stayed outside, just listening to the rest of his lesson until the bell rang.

"This period may sound short," continued the young professor, looking with great emotion at his students, "but it is not so much if we consider that the average lifetime of a monarch is..."

He paused for a long time, and turned to the class, waiting for someone to complete his sentence on his own initiative. However, what was found was only silence.

"I'll give you a clue: I said it fifteen minutes ago."

It took a while longer to show some reaction until a girl in the center of the classroom shyly lifted her hand.

"Four weeks?" She questioned, unsure.

"If we only count its time as a butterfly, yes. If we consider its entire life cycle, since it is an egg, we would be talking about four to eight weeks, maybe up to ten. But I'm rambling."

Cody stood right in the center of the board, took a blue marker and began to write some facts about it while continuing with his explanation. The children, for their part, wrote in their notebooks everything they considered relevant.

"These monarchs of the Methuselah generation, are a very unique case. Not only for the fact that they live longer than the others, but it seems that they MUST" he said with particular emphasis on this word, "to do so. You see, as I had told you, the monarchs, with their lives so ephemeral, mainly live only and exclusively for the survival of their species. They born, reproduce, and then die, in that simple order without more or less. When winter arrives, they need to travel south, to look for warmer lands, from Canada to central and southern Mexico. But having such short lives, how could they make this long journey? How could they survive all those months? Logic would tell you that their destiny is to die under those circumstances and the species would become extinct."

He paused a little, and turned back to the class, grinning from ear to ear with enthusiasm.

"But that's when these little ones come into action." he pointed out with great emphasis as if he was about to reveal a secret surprise. "It is as if nature itself were a conscious being, and knew exactly what it does. Because just when autumn arrives, when the cold begins, the generation born in these moments, is born with the ability to last much longer than their ancestors. And in this way, they can carry out the incredible task of making the long journey to the south, survive all those months, and then return home, to make way for the next generation, something that would be almost impossible otherwise. If we put it in perspective, it is as if you had a child, and this child was born with the capacity to live more than five hundred years. And everything, only to last the species. As if that child was born with a special and unique gift, with the fate of using it to ensure that his descendants survive. To make sure that our species live a generation more.

All the children, plus Matilda in the hall, listened to that part of the story with great interest. But it was only the young psychiatrist who got the full message of what he was trying to convey at that point. Did he expect that perhaps a particular child among his audience would understand it too? Or did he just throw the comment into the air, like a net waiting to catch something? Of course, it could just be a coincidence.

"Nature, from this point of view, is quite wise," the professor concluded. "We are all born with a purpose, although it is not always so clear which is..."

The bell rang at that moment, cutting off Cody's words, which still seemed at least to have been able to get to the point. The boys, impatient, began to store all their things with some haste.

"Remember the essay for next week. Play well, enjoy your recess."

Some of the children responded with a small yes, but most of them went to the door of the room sooner rather than later. When they went out into the hall, some of them looked curiously at Matilda standing outside, who only smiled and greeted them in a friendly way; a few returned the greeting in the same way.

Once the room was wholly emptied, at least of students, Matilda took the liberty of finally entering. Cody had his back to the door, picking up his books and notes from the desk.

"Excellent class, teacher," Matilda exclaimed in a lively tone, which took the blond boy by surprise. "Although the story of the Methuselah Monarchs I liked the first ten times you told me, I love that new final turn that you added. Inspiring"

There was a playful tone, almost sarcastic in his words, but that did not make them false.

Cody turned quickly to the door when he heard her, and his face was filled with astonishment to see her there. However, this astonishment did not take long to become joy.

"Matilda! What an incredible surprise!" he exclaimed enthusiastically and immediately approached her with outstretched arms. The young brunette did the same so both could give each other a friendly hug.

"I'm sorry to get this way," the visitor apologized, once they were released. "I wanted to call you by phone, but it was impossible."

"I'm sorry..." Cody extended his hand to the desk, grabbing his cell phone and taking a quick look at his screen. "I always put it in silence when I am in class. But it's been so long; four years at least. What brings you to Seattle?"

"I'm dealing with a case of the Foundation in Oregon, near to Salem, which is getting a bit complicated. I thought, and Eleven also agreed with me, that you could help me with some things. If possible, of course."

"Of course yes," he did not hesitate to answer, smiling widely at his old friend. "Anything for you, and for Eleven."

Matilda also smiled, happy to see that the boy she met maybe twelve years ago was still the same kind boy she remembered, with the same positive and candid vibe around her. Although there were some subtle differences. She reminded, for example, always being noticeably taller than him, but at that moment, even with his heels, they seemed to be in quite similar statures. The glasses were also new, but they still looked great with their style. And not to mention the notorious security that transmitted when teaching. Although of course, perhaps talking about a subject that was as passionate as the butterflies, helped a lot in that.

While Cody continued to collect his things, she gave herself permission to take a seat at one of the chairs in the front row. Although it had not been that long since the end of his doctorate to say that it brought her nostalgia for when she was a student, it gave her a somewhat strange feeling. She looked thoughtfully at the whiteboards, with the data that Cody had written on them with down on them. Irremediably to his head came some memories, already distant, of his own days of elementary school. Of course, back then the boards were green, and they used chalks.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she only reacted when Cody began to erase the data about the Methuselah Monarchs.

"I do not know if I ever told you," she began suddenly, "but for a long time during my childhood and puberty, my future goal was to be a teacher."

"As your adoptive mother was, right?

"She still is. Although now she is more dedicated to being principal."

"And why did not you become it at the end?"

Matilda remained pensive for a while. It was a good question that she sometimes asked herself, but she did not have a concrete answer yet, but perhaps several that complemented each other.

"I don't know," she whispered slowly, more to herself than to the boy in front of her. "I guess it was just the turns that life gives."

When Cody finished erasing, Matilda stood up again, and approached to the professor's desk, with her briefcase in hand. She took out without waiting for the file that was assembling Samara's case, both the information Dr. Scott had given her, plus the info she got from her own sources. And, of course, the one she had been collecting in those past three days; it looked quite bulky, but even so she needed the information that was stored directly on her computer.

"Is the term Projected Thermography familiar to you?" Matilda asked. Cody just stared at her, with confusion in his eyes. "If not, don't worry. It is not very known. It is a theoretical psychic ability, which is based on being able to translate a mental image on some solid surface. It is mainly related to photographs and videos made to the user, but it is also presented on paper or practically any space.

Matilda opened the file and took out several X-rays, or at least that's what they looked like, and placed them on the desk. These were five. Cody sat in the chair behind the desk, adjusted his glasses, and looked at them. Although they seemed like X-rays, what exactly they were projected was not clear. They were not from the bones of a person, that was obvious. They seemed to be some kind of strange drawings, reflected in the acetate as flashes of light. In one, what appeared, at first sight, appeared to be a toy horse, floating on waves of the sea. In another one, he could see someone's feet, covered with boots, and below, apparently buried underground, what appeared to be a doll with syringes and nails in it; a pretty scary sight. In another, there was a tree with large branches on a horizon, and in another the silhouettes of several toys.

Cody was more than intrigued by what he saw.

"Do you say that someone captured these images with its mind?" he asked curiously, looking at Matilda again.

"A twelve-year-old girl, to be exact. According to what doctors told me, it is what appears every time they try to take an X-ray of any part of her body, as if instead of projecting their bones, what she is thinking does."

Cody's right eyebrow arched, as a sign of suspicion, forming an almost comical gesture on his face.

"And, do you think it's about that Thermography you mentioned a moment ago?"

"Yes, and no," Matilda answered, something eclectic. "Although the doctors who examined her first are using this term, I am thinking that it is something much more complicated than that. She can not only capture these images on radiographs or physical surfaces like these; she can also do it in the minds of people. She did it with her mother unintentionally, causing her to see things that have been dragging her to madness. And apparently she also did it with the horses of the ranch where she lives, making them go crazy, and many of them jumped into the sea.

"Jumped to the sea? Hey, I think I read something about that." As a biologist, it was understandable that an incident like that would get his attention. "They said in the newspapers that the reasons were unknown, or not?"

"For them perhaps, but for their parents, it was clear from the beginning what or who had been. She is able to create really lived images, and implant them in people and animals, sometimes without realizing it, provoking on them obsessive reactions, and sometimes even violent ones."

"Does she have telepathic qualities?"

"Yes, but as far as I've seen, quite a few. These are more sensations and small flashes that come to her suddenly. And I know, it's a contradiction. Logic would say that someone who could alter a person's mind in such a way, should have extraordinary telepathic abilities, but it is not like that, or at least she has not shown it. And you know as well as I that every Shining is very different. So, we couldn't judge it like a ruler carved in stone. Besides, it seems to me that she has not shown everything she is capable of doing. It's foreboding, but I think she can do many more things with her abilities that we still don't know, including herself."

Cody did not respond with words, but his expression showed that he didn't disagree with these statements, or at least had nothing to deny them. He put his attention back on the X-rays, looking at them with great interest. Some of those images were really strange; hard to believe that they had come from the mind of a child. Although, if someone knew the horrors that could hide in the head of a small child, that was him.

"What do you think?" Matilda questioned, somewhat anxiously. "Could it be something similar to your ability?"

"I'm not sure," the professor replied, not taking his eyes from the images. "The truth is, I don't think anyone has seen anything like it before, not even Eleven."

That statement left Matilda almost immediately stunned.

"Why you say that?"

Cody remained thoughtful. What was it that occupied his mind so much? After almost a minute of silence, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He stood up, walked to the door, and hurried to close it, locked inside.

"There is something you must understand about my Shining," he said with a somewhat serious tone, as opposed to the lively state he had moments ago.

Suddenly, he clasped his hands in front of his chest and carved his palms. He closed his eyes for a moment and then when he opened them again, he separated his palms by extending them to the sides, and from among them came a small and bright blue butterfly, sharp, that fluttered its wings in the air, until it was placed above their heads. But it was not the only one. Instead, it was followed by dozens equal, who began to fly around the room with complete freedom.

Matilda looked at them all with admiration, but not with surprise.

"When I materialize a thought in the environment," he continued explaining, "it lasts only until I stop thinking about it, or until I stop focusing on it. After that, it vanishes, like a curtain of smoke; as if it had never been here really."

One by one, all the blue butterflies began to disintegrate, like losses in a bluish haze that stretched everywhere. In a matter of seconds, all the butterflies vanished; in effect, as if they had never been there.

Cody's Shining was unique in its kind: it gave him the ability to materialize his thoughts and dreams in his environment, and manipulate it at his disposal. But not as simple intangible illusions, not as mere mirages; what he projected, really became real, at least for the period he decided. To Matilda, that ability had always seemed quite incredible, as well as beautiful. However, it could also become frightening, under certain circumstances. According to Eleven and Cody himself, it was quite difficult to control and maintain in a conscious state, but it became a hundred times more effective while he slept; but, consequently, more uncontrollable.

"It's the same when a telepath with illusionist skills, projects an image in the mind of a person; likewise, it only lasts until the user stops it, and after that, it also vanishes. They are just ideas, you understand me? Temporary images that we form in our heads, and then externalize. But this…"

Cody retook one of the x-rays and placed it against the light to see it better.

"These images are not temporary. They remain, they remain in the physical world, although the user is not even present. And if this happens with the images on the acetate, it should be the same with the minds of the people. In other words, the images she implants in their minds..." He made a slight reflective pause, "they never disappear. If she did this to her mother, the damage that she has done..."

"It could be permanent," Matilda concluded, anticipating the point Cody wanted to reach; he nodded, affirming his suspicion.

They both remained silent, digesting their resolution. Matilda had already considered it beforehand, but the fact that Cody confirmed it, made it even more real. The atmosphere in the room became somewhat gloomy at once. Was that what worried Eleven so much? What made her feel that maybe she was not ready to deal with something like that? It was probable, but it did not make clear to her what exactly she meant that this ability could be of a "different nature."

While she was meditating about it, Cody noticed another image that Matilda brought with her, but instead of being in an acetate, it was in a cardboard painting, of legal size. Cody took it, and took a look; the same tree, or at least one very similar, to that of the x-rays, was there embodied.

"She did that too?"

"Yes, just yesterday. I asked her to do it to corroborate that she was capable of forming the images consciously, or if only involuntarily. Apparently, it was the first option, although I don't think she understands very well how she did it."

Cody looked curiously at the strange drawing. He looked at it very closely, and also carefully moved his fingers over the surface of the cardboard, precisely where the tree strokes were. Something caught his attention immediately.

"It's strange. In the radiographs, this is not so remarkable, but here you can see that the drawing is not on the cardboard, or inside of it: it is in it as if it had been prefabricated with the image. As if it were part of the same material."

Hearing that, Matilda turned to see him quickly with her eyes wide open, but Cody didn't notice immediately.

"But the only way I can think that could be possible is that..."

"The cardboard has been modified at the molecular level!" Matilda hurried to add, noticing a remarkable emotion in her voice that took Cody by surprise. A small giggle followed, almost nervous. "How I did not realize before? The only way you could modify the image on radiographs is by manipulating the x-ray photons that reach the film so that the desired image is formed. That must have been my key. On cardboard and on paper it is the same. If you manage to modify the molecules of the material, they can be rearranged in a certain way, and this is how you get these images to appear. That's why the images last. He does not project them with his mind, his mind makes them physically, in the full extent of the word."

"Actually, it makes sense now that you mention it," Cody added, already a little infected by the emotion of his friend. "People often see the thoughts and memories of people as abstract and intangible; in other words, as something non-physical. But in biological terms, all this is based mainly on cellular and chemical compositions of our brains. That means…"

"These can equally be manipulated at a molecular level, such as cardboard or photons!" Matilda exclaimed more forcefully than she intended. "It is not strictly projected thermography in the conventional sense, but an entirely new skill: the ability to modify the minds of people on a physical level, not abstract as telepathy. That should be her primary skill, and the images that are captured on the x-rays and on paper, are only results derived from it, not the other way around as Dr. Scott and his team assumed. They went by the theory of thermography and did not see beyond, and I almost fell into the same!"

"But all this is merely speculative," the young professor hastened to point out. "It is impossible to know if in truth its ability is as we suppose, mainly because there is no precedent similar to this. It isn't telepathy, or telekinesis, or anything we have interacted with before. But also, if in fact, it is something like what you say, we would be talking about a skill too dangerous," he put particular emphasis on that last part. "Probably, with enough concentration and experience, it could completely destroy a person's mind, turn it into a vegetable, or even brainwash it entirely and turn it into another person. Or something like the Inception movie, but much more aggressive."

"Are not you exaggerating?" Matilda muttered, somewhat skeptically, to which Cody simply shrugged.

"Maybe, but I'm just going to the greatest extreme that comes to mind. I heard some other guys at the Foundation say that if they focused enough, Eleven was capable of causing a stroke to someone. Obviously, I never saw her do it, but..." He seemed to decide at the last moment not to continue with his prayer. "But, not everything has to be bad. In the right way, a skill like this could also be very beneficial. It could help people with some type of brain injury, disorders in neuronal development, or even help correct behavioral problems or dementia. Who knows? Perhaps also correct permanent commas, or cure emotional traumas."

"Probably," Matilda agreed. "But I think it will be a long time before they allow someone like her to make a psychic version of brain surgery to someone."

"Maybe. But what I try to say in the end is that, if it is what we think, it can bring many good things... but also many bad things." He stared at Matilda at that moment through the thin lenses of his glasses. "You must be very careful. What happened to her mother, can happen to you."

"Don't worry," she hurriedly responded, unconcerned. "Do you forget the protection that Eleven placed on us against this type of attack when we were children?"

"No, but remember that this might not be a normal psychic ability. Also, I remember that Eleven told us that this protection was more for long distance attacks so that no one could detect us or affect us from afar. And she also said to us that the closer we were, the less effective would it become. And you will be pretty close to this child."

Matilda remained silent, remarkably thoughtful. Actually, she didn't need Cody to mention it to her: she was fully aware of it. She had always used the excuse of that supposed protection as sustenance, to make her mother not care about her, and partly to give herself self-confidence in her work. But now, maybe it was not going to be enough.

Eleven had told her that this case seemed particularly dangerous to her, and now it was hard to pretend that she didn't think she could be right. Matilda could accept without a problem that Eleven was right; in fact, since her adolescence, she had become used to it. But what she couldn't stand, would give the reason to Dr. Scott and his fears, although these no longer seemed so irrational.

He sighed wearily and sat down again at one of the desks.

"I had thought to ask you to accompany me in a session so you could meet this girl, and give me your opinion more first hand; especially about her shining. But I will understand if, after all this, you prefer not to get involved so directly."

"Don't worry, I'll do it with pleasure," Cody hurried to answer, taking Matilda a little by surprise. "As I said, I would do anything for you... And for Eleven!" He added quickly, almost nervous.

Matilda could only let out a small giggle, which she tried to disguise, but it still made the boy's cheeks flush a little.

"What's the girl's name?" Cody asked quickly, trying to change the theme.

"Her name is Samara, Samara Morgan."

Cody's face formed a strange grimace of confusion.

"Morgan?"

"Yes. Something happens?"

"No, nothing. It's just that Morgan was the name of my mother... my biological mother," corrected quickly. "What a coincidence. Maybe she's my relative."

Looking back at Matilda, he noticed that her face had become grave, so much so that for a moment he came to think that he had said something that had annoyed her. But before Cody could ask her what was wrong, she pronounced...

"No, I don't think she is."

Cody just looked at her, confused by that strange reaction.  

END OF CHAPTER 04

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

—The character of Cody Hobson or Cody Morgan is based on the child protagonist of the movie Before I Wake of 2016, now around twenty-five years-old, in contrast to the eight he had in the film. Therefore it is taken that the events of Before I Wake occur several years earlier than originally. Cody's skills will be based entirely on those exposed in the film, but perhaps with some slight adjustments to give them more explanation.

—The explanation given in this chapter to the psychic abilities of Samara Morgan are mostly creations of my own imagination since, in their respective films, it is never explained in a very detailed or explicit way how they work. Throughout this story, this theme will be played frequently and will continue to be explained.

[watchilove]

IWC Schaffhausen and Boultbee Flight Academy are delighted to announce that the restoration of the “Silver Spitfire” is complete. The unique surface of polished aluminium highlights the iconic silhouette of the British aircraft in a way never seen before. The “Silver Spitfire”, with the new G-IRTY registration, has been taking off for flight tests this month, before embarking on an unprecedented flight around the world in August.

The ambitious goal of “Silver Spitfire – The Longest Flight” is to circumnavigate the world in a Spitfire. IWC is supporting Steve Boultbee Brooks and Matt Jones with their expedition as official time keeper and main partner. Never before in the history of aviation has the legendary British aircraft embarked on such a long and arduous journey. The two British pilots, and founders of Boultbee Flight Academy, will fly the propeller-driven aeroplane around the world, covering a distance of over 43,000 kilometres and visiting some 30 countries on their way.

The original Supermarine Spitfire MX.IX, with the historic registration MJ.271, was built in Castle Bromwich back in 1943. Around 15 specialised engineers from Duxford’s Aircraft Restoration Company have worked tirelessly over the past two years, and at long last, the complex restoration programme is complete.

  “The final result is simply breathtaking. Thanks to the shiny surface of polished aluminium, the beautiful silhouette of this iconic aircraft – with the unmistakable elliptical wings – is visible in its purest form. I am looking forward to the test flights and the start of this unique adventure” – Christoph Grainger-Herr, CEO of IWC Schaffhausen

A LABOUR OF LOVE

The restoration was a Herculean task for everyone involved. A Spitfire is made up of tens of thousands of distinct parts. More than 20,000 rivets, for example, had to be individually inspected, cleaned and, if necessary, replaced. The goal of everyone involved was to keep the Spitfire MX.IX in its original condition, as far as possible, and procuring the different spare parts proved to be a real challenge.

To begin with, the aircraft had no instrument panel and no flying instruments, and large parts of the hydraulic system, the undercarriage legs and the propeller were no longer in their original condition. All these additional components had to be procured and fitted at great expense.

The fuselage and wings of the aircraft were polished in a multi-stage process, using various compounds and pads. Importantly, this intricate process managed to preserve a unique patina, which had been caused by exhaust fumes tarnishing the Spitfire’s fuselage, during its many years of active service.

TECHNICAL UPDATES USING ORIGINAL COMPONENTS

Beneath its sleek exterior, the “Silver Spitfire” also received several internal system upgrades to prepare it for its daring mission. Among other things, the engineers installed additional fail-safe radio systems, fuel pumps, and vacuum pumps. These back-up systems will ensure that the pilots, the aircraft and the mission are not jeopardised, if any component fails during the flight.

Also, because the “Silver Spitfire” has a total of eight fuel tanks instead of two, various new pipes, valves and pumps had to be fitted. In addition, the powerful Rolls-Royce Merlin 70 engine, with an output of over 1700 hp, was given a thorough overhaul and is now ready for another 500 flying hours.

“Luckily, we were able to reuse as many original parts as possible, which has allowed us to retain the unique character of this strikingly beautiful aircraft. The “Silver Spitfire” is, without a doubt, one of the most original airworthy Spitfires in the world,” notes Gerry Jones, Chief Engineer at Boultbee Flight Academy.

Just a few days ago flight testing began and, over the next weeks, the crew will familiarise themselves with the aircraft and its flight behaviour, eradicating any teething troubles. The start of the expedition is scheduled for the 5thAugust from Goodwood Aerodrome.

#IWCheritage playlist (subtitles available in 13 languages):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZsr7PlRNuw&list=PLatsy8T2hs5rDF5QiEJdAA5tUThiXfCMo

360° cockpit tour https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxYJynJejiU

BOULTBEE FLIGHT ACADEMY

Boultbee Flight Academy is the world’s first Spitfire training school and approved Spitfire flight provider and is owned by British pilots Matt Jones and Steve Boultbee-Brooks. Boultbee Flight Academy offer Spitfire experience flights and a ground-breaking Spitfire flight simulator to non-pilots and Spitfire training to certified pilots. Boultbee Flight Academy offers flights and experiences around the UK in an ever expanding number of locations. Their headquarters is based at Goodwood Aerodrome, West Sussex, its proximity to the white cliffs of Beachy Head and the Needles mean the Spitfire flying experience can be conducted around one of the most iconic landscapes on the south coast of the United Kingdom. Matt Jones and Steve Boultbee-Brooks have partnered with IWC Schaffhausen to bring to fruition their dream of flying an original Spitfire around the world in “Silver Spitfire – The Longest Flight”.

Silver Spitfire

“Silver Spitfire” – Restauration of iconic aircraft complete IWC Schaffhausen and Boultbee Flight Academy are delighted to announce that the restoration of the “Silver Spitfire” is complete.