#i just. i am so tired of feeling like a canary in a coal mine. i am constantly like 'hey we'll have xyz problem soon but if we do abc

[thisisadecisionimayregret]

spent a little over two weeks leading up to black friday telling my boss repeatedly "hey we have like. 100+ boxes of accessories in the back of house that haven't been put out yet and space hasn't been made for them and with how few people and how little time you're giving us to work on them, we won't get the accessories out in time for black friday" and she kept being like "don't worry about it, we'll get it done, it'll be fine"

and low and behold. wednesday before the black friday, last day to prep stuff beforehand, and we still have 25-30 boxes of stuff in the back that we didn't get to. and I'm not gonna say I told you so, but. I fucking told her so.

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

Suds!! You are yet again like 90% of my art reblogs. 😭😭😭

Thanku for remembering my arts. 💙

HOW COULD I FORGET WHEN YOURE LITERALLY ONE OF THE BEST OUT THERE???? I'M ALWAYS EATING GOOD WHEN ITS YOU

Actually everyone who sees this post I provide you with a list of good tired art to reblog:

->Pretty boy skateboarder Punz

->Sparkly lovely XD??? Oh my god??

->Drunz is doing a little dance<3

->Being emotional about cFundy, as a treat

->Schlatt being a poor little baa-baa<3333

->Listen Punz deserves to give Dream flowers. shut up I'm normal

->Foosh. The Most Foosh. Look At Him. Give Him Hugs.

->yes I'm grabbing every drunz art. its not my fault its so well done. I have demons okay. theyre hugging.

->Dream getting cuddles from Steve The Polar Bear

->Philza and George bow designs !!!! Jesus christ these are so cool. how do I learn to make weapon designs.

->A Ranboo design that absolutely delights me. Different ties depending on if its Ran or Ender, aaaaaa

->hey guys did you know Punz is one of my favorite characters<-frothing at the mouth

->honestly weapon and armor designs are my weakness

->DRUNZ DRUNZ DRUNZ DRUNZ DRUNZ AAAAAAAAAAAAA

->Dream getting the comfort he deserves

->Punz covered in blood

->Catboy!Punz (no the dopamine hits I get every time I reblog Punz art are normal doctor)

->I am NORMAL about PUNZ shut UP (Valo design)

->Post-Prison Dream trying to cut his hair, HNRRRR-

->FUCK (more Catboy Punz)

->hnnnnnn Mob boss Dream with loyal right hand Punz???? augh

->FEM DREAM EVERYONE ITS A CODE GREEN, STAY CALM WAIT FUCK SHE'S FULLY COLORED IN THIS ONE. STAY FUCKING CALM-

->Drunz chained together. Very normal. I am normal.

->hnnnn why is Dream so pretty in this. I need Punz to kiss him.

->no you dont understand I'm studying how you drew Grians wings to see if I can learn how to draw them that good. christ I want to learn your power.

-> Technoblade comic featuring other people missing him. My heart hurts a lot looking at this.

->Valo Punz (instant dopamine hit)

->Tireds DTIYS Dream that I don't feel I could ever feasibly attempt just because its so fucking godly. But I Will Try Someday Soon. fucking hell.

->WAIT MUMBO WITH LONG HAIR???

->Lynx Punz (instant dopamine hit)

->Holy shit. Grian as a marble statue with wings spread. The level of ability on display here is spectacular????

->drunz are hugging (I am once again frothing at the mouth)

->Hnnnnnn tarot card Dream looking so pretty

->god, this fucks me up so hard. Punz is taking a picture of Dream, in absolute awe, but Punz's comic panel is the one thats shaped like a photo. As if they can capture their reaction but theyll never be able to capture Dream's joy, his beauty and light. (AND THEN YOU COLORED IT)

->Witches Dreamnap. Its so funny to me that Sapnap seems fully into it while Dream is right behind him looking Ready For Mischief

->hnnnnn baby Punzzzzz, BABY PUNZZZZZZZZZ AAAAAAAA (instant dopamine hit)

->literally all of your expression memes??? Dream covered in blood while Purpled is chill about it. Wet Cat Mumbo. The Foosh with hearts in his eyes. Shy pretty boy Dream with braided hair. TANGO. The fuckinnnn Foosh/XD kiss. SNF (my favorite underrated ship) and Grumbo. DREAMNAP YES. Drunz getting to be happy!!!

->Obligatory Etho Chilling In A Tree<33

->A Canary Loves His Coal Mine. FUCK (comic)

->Dreamnap kissing and more FooshXD. <-bites down on my phone, instantly destroying it

->Enderman Dream for cHybrid day<333

->pissboy Purpled<3 (says this with love and giggles)

->smalletho comic. Why does this feel so comfortable and nostalgic.

->the flowers trailing down.... who is this...

->bdubs and Dream, and interaction I've never thought of before but now want to see happen

->Drunz, hgnhhhhh

->Jimmy Solidarity worshipping Scar at the altar.

->I tried really, really hard to scroll past Sam, thinking I could be strong. I have my own demons to face.

->I really love when people do like, Different Eyes For Different Characters Posts. Its delightful

->god fucking damn. stop converting me to Ethoisms

->DREAMNOTNAP THIS IS NOT A DRILL

->Drunz with more Lynx Punz (instant dopamine hit)

->MORE DRUNZ WITH LYNX PUNZ (a second dopamine hit)

->SNAKE DREAM WITH LYNX PUNZ (stop stop I'm already dead)

->fuck. goddamit. Dream is leaning in to bite Punz's wrist. I need to throw myself directly into the lake.

->noooooo Snake Dream wrapping around Punz for warmth. My 37th weakness.

->Punz. (dopamine hit.)

->Drunznap. Objectively beautiful<333

->Valo Dream to go with the Valo Punz, HNNNNN THEY MUST ALWAYS BE TOGETHER

->hey you ever cry while gently caressing a cracking marble statue of your lover? Just normal Dream about Punz things :))))

->Hnnnn Punz expressions. Theyre so fucking !!!!! barkbarkbark

->Drunz DBH au. hahaha I can be normal (you witness me shatter a plate in my hands)

->punz in a dresss hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

->IM FEASTING, DRUNZ KISSING. BRAIN IS LIGHTING UP.

->s2 Dream design !!! He has a cane!!!!! As he should :oDDDD (WAIT THERES A SECOND VERSION)

->inhales. You Can Always Rely On Your Knight, Dream. He loves you so much.

->Punzzz (instant dopamine hit.)

->Dream in Punz's clothes!!!! (smashes my head against a concrete brick)

->Drunz DRUNZ Drunz Drunzzz dRuNz DRUNZZZZ (them<3)

->The Grian/Dream apocalypse, the ship we needed and so desperately deserved. I have been converted.

okay I have to stop. This list is getting too long. I have to be normal. (Foolish Valo Design)

Yes I went through Tired's art tag to grab these. Honestly I went through about 20 pages before I lost steam. And There's Still More. I'd go check out his art for the full list, I barely covered half of it- especially if youre into the Hermitcraft/Life series. Here's the tag, have fun scrolling <3

[spot-the-antisemitism]

To further point out I don’t deny having a background I just deny having a deep connection to that background nor do I care to research it and reconnect

I understand that many people do feel such a connection to their roots, especially those who’s culture was/is under active threat,

Moreso what I view as a problem is the idea that older cultural or religious ideals are inherently more valuable then modern or secular ones,

Like as an example, I saw a post once pointing out that trying to justify trans people’s existence by proving historic examples shouldn’t be necessary since even if trans people are an entirely new phenomena that wouldn’t in any way invalidate their existence

Dear anti-theist anon,

please stop justifiying why it's ok to invalidate other's heritage and beliefs you've said racist and anti theist things and took out your christian trauma on my catholic friend and I would like you to stop getting block evades to send me anon asks on tumblr and to get a life

you are not a good person, explaining how you're morally justified and persecuted even by the evil theists and is started to get old, predictable. I as the canary in the coal mine am tired of the other shoe dropping and you lashing out at Jews as well as christians like Serpents did. You walk into a place that debunks blood libel and claim without evidence that religious people are out to get you and expect a Jew who gets told they are harrassing people in imposible ways to believe you?

You don't want to reconnect with the heritage American assimilation stripped from you? that sounds like your loss. There might be some fun food and costumes in there (as well as centuries of colonialism and war crimes).

But ok not your cup of tea, good for you!

I do agree with the last part that Appeal to tradition and Appeal to Modernity are equally stupid and the former can be weaponized into either xenophobia and racist nationalism or orientalism, exotification and the noble savage trope.

the "Jews can't be indigenous because Indigenous people belong and my racist argument falls apart". It doesn't matter who is indigenous. It doesn't matter if the practice is new or actually ancient.

finally I actually agree that claiming identities like 2 spirit and Hijra fafine, Ladyboy ect should not be conflated with the western concept of transgender and it's a racist false equivalce to do so. "your ancestors were trans" is actually a colonialist mantra of putting western labels on indigneous pratices to appeal to mostly white people.

so if you're seeing off your third block evade atheist anon, do not reply. Do not send me more asks. you will be blocked.

(But but you agreed with my take ? :( I know a broken clock is right twice, please leave me on a high note)

Get a life,

Cecil

[vulpenthefox]

A conversation

The intrusive thoughts worm thier way into my head, despair whispering maliciously over my shoulder. I like to think of it as a somkey, horned figure with fangs.

They don't care about you.

You are tired. Just stop.

You are thier canary in the coal mine.

I can't fault any of these statements of dispair, but I hold fast. They may not care, but I do. I am tired, but all I need is a short break. And I warn them When they can't take it any longer.

I feel despair hiss back at my rebuttal, snaking across my shoulders. I sit, carrying the weight of more than anyone can imagine so that nobody else has to.

I am the fox that hunts for his family, the siren that sings for the sailors. Despair is the wolf in the dark that delights in the hunt, the shark that surrounds the sinking ships.

I am no wolf. I am no shark.

But most of all, I am not prey.

[foxonrollerskates]

Hello! I finally listened to the songs you recommended me! (Well, almost. I still have to listen to the ones from Beyond, Beyond, Beyond, but I already listened to Scars and Bitter Medicine without knowing those were The Crane Wives songs, lmao. I really, really liked them).

To be completely honest I wasn't sure I was going to enjoy their songs, since their sound isn't really my thing, but I ended up quite surprised. After a few songs it started to feel familiar, and even though is not entirely of my liking, it was a joy indeed. Something new and interesting to try for sure!

I didn't dislike any song, that's for sure. I just feel like I need to let them grow on me, marinate for a bit, wait for the right time to listen to them with more attentive ears. Whatsoever, there are a few songs that really did struck certain cords bithin me, and I want to talk about them, so here is a list (the order is less to more impactful songs btw):

Metaphor: This song really made me want to write. Not sure about what, or why, but it was like an urge. Incredibly. It's on the list just because of that. So I can remind myself to listen to it and daydream the story that I know is somewhere in there, lmao.

The Wolf: Same with the last one. I felt like writing something, like with Metaphor, but in a more subtle way. Don't know what or why but yeah, the feeling is there.

Take me to war: Here because I liked the song generally, but didn't really click for me. It's a good song and I liked the lyrics. I feel like I have to let this one "marinate" as I said before, to truly grasp and feel the song.

Here I am: Just like Take me to war, with Here I am I think I'm not in the right space of mind to enjoy it completely (like I did with Never love an Anchor, for example. That one clicked way too well...), but I liked the lyrics a lot and I realized there were some things that really resonated with me. Let's this one marinate too.

Tongues and Teeth: I love the title, and I like the concept of the song and the lyrics too! Marinating already, since this was one of the first I listened to, back when you first send me the list of songs.

How to Rest: I liked the verses “Cause you'll miss the sun/The warmth of another's embrace/You'll need room to run/And something to chase/And that thing you fear will coax you out of that unholy place/As all you've ever wanted is an escape” and “Darling, when you've tired/You will see/There is no safe place, no sanctuary/It's all just child's play, a game of hide and seek/Don't make it harder than it has to be” (this last one maybe is because of bias, since i love the word sanctuary, but idk).

Hollow Moon: I LOVED THIS SONG. Omg, I never thought I could find I song like this, in the sense that I've been struggling with going to sleep or staying in bed, intrusive thoughts and shit like that and this song was head-on regarding my experiences. “I won't be sleeping/There's too many monsters in the backyard/And I feel them creeping/Closer, closer, closer” FELT. “But if I made my bed/Did I make the demons in it?/Set 'em free from my head/Did I make the demons in it?” UGH. Anyway. Kind of unwell about this song.

Ribs: Religious imagery, self acceptance and independence, and really soothing beat and vocals? Amazing stuff. This is one of my favorites, actually. Really fan of the “it is mine” and the “how lucky we are/you are” through the song.

Hard Sell: Literally me rn.

The Hand that Feeds: reminded me of my father.

Never Love An Anchor: Genius.com says is about a mother-child dynamic but idk. I got so emotional with this song, I almost cried. Made me think of my little brother and oh well.

Honorary mentions: Canary in a Coal Mine and The Moon Will Sing.

Thanks for the recs!!!

Ho hohohohohohohoho

I'm glad you enjoyed them, since it was a list of all my favorite songs 😅 I wasn't sure how you would like them since I didn't know how much you fw that folk-y sound(fun fact, they grew up in the same state as me so our accent is similar).

You're welcomeeee! (I thought you would like Ribs, so glad I was right.)

[takethistoyourstardust]

I am so tired and had one of those long ass 9 hour dreams where you thibk you woke up and everything is real. so I do not remember if I sent you another ask + tumblr ate it or if that was a dream lmao (if you are just busy sorry!! just did not want to be rude or something lol)

YOU DID SEND AN ASK YESTERDAY I WAS JUST VERY EXHAUSTED UWEEEEEH... i got to a point yesterday where one on one conversation was way too much for me to process (even tho you're anon!!) and I just had to not engage beyond scrolling. Hell, I couldn't even get as hype as i wanted to for FNOWAE on the 8 ball last night bc my brain was too frazzled. Had to turn to my beloved Hatsune Miku to cure me ADFJAL;DFKJ;... I'll go ahead and answer it now, right here!!

NOOOO YOUR MOM HATES SUGAR WE'RE GOING DOWN?! that's literally THE pre-hiatus fob song!!!!!

he says hello!! <3

noooo i totally get it!! i'm USUALLY like that with irl stuff but for some reason (the autism) fall out boy gripped me by the brain stem. i feel like it's because it's a constant flood of new content+20 years of old content? and ofc following the right blogs helps a lot :) but i will be your canary in a... well maybe not a coal mine. canary next to a magic 8 ball? but i'll keep being obsessed with fall out boy and you will keep getting the content :D

[dmwrites]

Before there were annoying gods who taunted power like a cat with a mouse, before there were mountains of sand to move to occupy thoughts, there was Foolish, the totem of death. A favorite amongst bloodthirsty gods, he was given half-godhood, and a simple task: kill. So Foolish traveled the land, slaughtering entire kingdoms. The better show he put on for the gods, the better he was rewarded. Golden skin, indestructible weapons, immortality.

But a one man show was exhausting, and, to be frank, the gods had started to lose interest. Violence and war and strife can only be so unique. At the end of the day, it always ends in a blade taking a life.

And Foolish wasn’t quite sure how long they would be satiated by his one-man show.

----

Foolish knelt at the alter of a long-abandoned church with his head bowed, still and silent.

“Rise.” A voice spoke whispers in his ears. He rose. “What do you want, little totem?”

“I fear that you have grown tired of me.” Foolish lifted his face up towards the lofting ceiling of the church. “You are restless at the lack of fighting. You make me look like a fool, striking me with lightning and laughing at me.”

“Foolish boy, do not talk against us. You are a pet we can easily toss away.” The whispers felt like they were invading his chest, wrapping his lungs in molten gold.

“I’m sorry. I too am frustrated with the lack of fights. The mortals have become smarter. They hide from me and use tricks to make me attack nothing.”

“They fool you.” The whispers laughed in his ear. He blushed in deep embarrassment.

“I want to be better, I want to entertain you like I used to.” Foolish spoke after the laughter had died down. “But I don’t know how. I need… a guiding light.”

The whispers fell silent. The air compressed around him for a minute, and he stood there, entrapped in the world of a god thinking.

“A guiding light… I think, perhaps, that you just solved your own problem, little totem.” The whispers were curious, thoughtful. “Tell me, what do you know of the coal mines?”

“Coal mines?” Foolish let out a long sigh he hoped sounded more thoughtful then annoyed. “Not much. Humans mine coal from them.”

“Yes, Foolish, very astute of you. Humans mine coal from the coal mines.” The molten feeling on his lungs returned for a moment. “The mines are dangerous. Falling rock can kill an entire fleet of men. So they have something to alert them to disaster. A canary, whose death means more to come.”

“A harbinger of death!” Foolish gasped. “Oh, of course! Can I have one? Please? I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” The whispers buzzed, repeating the word over and over again.

“Y-” Before he could even respond, there was pain. A wet splattering noise, and then all Foolish could hear was the desperate beating of his heart. He wished upon every name he could think of to pass out, but he wasn’t that lucky. Something beyond his control opened his eyes and made him watch. A single rib, torn from his own body, hung in the air. And around it grew a person, horrible to watch. It grew and grew until it resembled Foolish, and then it fell to the ground, a finished product.

“Go see your canary.” The whispers were elated.

Foolish stood, holding a hand to his still-bleeding ribs. They would heal in a matter of minutes, the half god in him saw to that, but the pain was all human. He stumbled, and fell on top of the figure. They both groaned in pain, and Foolish found himself face-to-face with a blond man who looked just as scared as he felt.

“Hello?” the person said, and the whispers laughed.

“Canary?” Foolish asked, pulling himself up to a sitting position and taking the person’s face in his hands to study it.

“Canary? What kind of name is that? My name’s Jimmy!” The person pulled their head back in annoyance.

“That’s a stupid fucking name.”

[is-it-art-tho]

Excerpt: When Jason turned back, he found two steady streams of tears running down Damian’s face, dripping from his chin. He had never seen the kid cry before.

As Jason slipped in through the window, a shadow moving through the night, a chill swept in behind him, and the form in the bed groaned and shifted in response.

He cringed, closing the window and navigating his way to a chair. And he'd all but sat down when a low voice from just behind him said, “Taken.”

Jason choked back a full-throated scream, wrangling it into a string of curses as he staggered backwards and squinted into the low light.

Bruce leaned forward in the chair so that his face was illuminated beside the window, his eyes as tired as ever, hair mussed and flattened on one side in a way that made Jason suspect he’d been sleeping he might’ve just been sleeping.

“Didn’t know you were here,” the younger man, hating how he felt himself shrinking, making himself smaller in Bruce’s presence. He made a conscious effort to lift his chin, square his shoulders. “I’ll just go.”

“Wait. Don’t.” Bruce rose, so stiff Jason could practically hear his joints creaking. “I’ve been here for”—he checked his watch—“I don’t even know how long.”

“Better things to do?”

Though Bruce’s face was once again in shadow, Jason could still feel his resignation and frustration rippling in the silence and heightened by sheer exhaustion.

“If you can’t or won’t stay,” Bruce said flatly, “it’s fine. I can figure something else out.”

“I’m sure you could. But don’t even worry about it.” Jason marched to the chair, forcing Bruce to sidestep out of his way as he practically threw himself into the seat. “Unlike you, I tend to find a way to squeeze family into my schedule.”

In the darkness, only the whites of Bruce’s eyes were visible, peering down at Jason and looking strikingly like the lenses of the cowl. To anyone else, this might have felt eerie, almost menacing.

To Jason, it felt like a Tuesday.

“Go. Run along to wherever it is you go at times like these," Jason said, wagging his fingers in a shoo motion. "We’ll be here when you decide to start caring again.”

Bruce left without another word, closing the door behind him just a tad softer than necessary. It was an overcorrection, a conscious effort not to slam it. And that’s how Jason knew he had gotten to him.

He always got to him.

Several minutes after Jason had begun scrolling through his phone, halfway between sleep and consciousness, the trill of a heart monitor caught his attention.

He looked up. Damian was still asleep, but the machine he was attached to was going crazy, spiking as if he were in a dead sprint. Jason rose to get a closer look and found Damian drenched in sweat and panting, his face contorted in terror.

“Hey,” Jason whispered, placing a hand on his narrow chest and shaking him. “Hey, whoa. Damian. Damian, calm down.”

The kid gasped, his eyes flying open and darting around the room as if still seeing the ghost of whatever nightmare he had been trapped in.

Jason waited for his gaze to finally find him before asking, “They gone?”

Damian looked around the room again, a quick check of all the shadows and dark corners, before offering a quick nod.

“Good.”

Damian sucked in a shaky breath as he adjusted himself on the pillows so that he was sitting mostly upright, and Jason couldn’t help but notice how small he looked with his massive t-shirt hanging like drapes from his shoulders. It must have been one of Bruce’s.

“If you need more sedatives—" Jason began, reaching for the pill bottle, but Damian stopped him with a curt,

“Don’t.” His voice was somewhat frail despite how hard Jason knew he was likely working to sound indifferent. ”Where is Father?”

“Had some stuff to take care of,” Jason answered, finding a closer chair to pull up to the side of the bed.

“Hm.” Damian wasn’t looking at him, instead restlessly adjusting the sheets on the bed. The heart monitor’s incessant trilling was the ultimate betrayal of his forced calm—a canary in the coal mine.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” the older boy added a little lamely.

“Only if he’s as idiotic as all the others.” At Jason’s confused frown, Damian continued, “I’m not some child who needs to be looked after at all hours. And it’s an insult for them to act as if I am. Not to mention a waste of time and resources.”

Jason leaned back in the plush seat, already exhausted by the direction of the conversation. “Time and resources?”

“If they’re babysitting me here that means they’re not out there doing something useful. The world doesn’t stop needing Batman and all the others simply because I’m temporarily incapacitated.”

“Right,” Jason sighed. “But here’s the thing: I get the whole ‘I don’t need help from anyone’ thing. I practically invented it. But I’ve also been on the receiving end of fear toxin, and that stuff is no joke. Especially if you have to deal with it solo. There’s no shame in needing a little backup.”

“Perhaps it is difficult for you, but I’m fine. I’ve trained for this.”

“You’ve trained to be trapped alone with your worst nightmares? What the hell kind of training—”

Damian leveled an outright bone-chilling stare on him, and the following silence was as much an explanation as it was a warning.

Jason cleared his throat. “Well, then let me put it this way: just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you have to. Gotham won’t fall just because a couple bats take a few days off to look after one of their own.”

“You—” And whatever Damian was about to say—and Jason was sure it was going to be insulting—shriveled in a quick gasp as the boy’s eyes flicked just over Jason’s shoulder. The heart monitor picked back up again, and Jason watched as Damian struggled to control his breathing, trembling hands clutching at the sheets.

“Where?” Jason asked quietly.

“By the door…”

The older boy turned to scan the dark walls, the corner, the dresser. He saw nothing.

“Make it go away,” Damian begged. “Please…”

When Jason turned back, he found two steady streams of tears running down Damian’s face, dripping from his chin. He had never seen the kid cry before.

“Damian,” he began, but the younger boy was screaming now, railing against whatever specter was lurking in shadows.

“You’re lying!” he wailed, starting to get up. Jason leapt out of his chair and pinned Damian’s small shoulders to the bed as the kid continued to scream at something—or someone—over Jason’s shoulder. “You’re lying! You’re lying! I’ll kill you!”

“It’s not real!” Jason shouted back, knowing that this wouldn’t work. It never did. “There’s nothing there! Just look at me! Look at me!”

But even as Jason forced himself directly into Damian’s eye-line, he could see that the kid was looking through him, seeing and unseeing at the same time. The boy was inconsolable now, weeping and screaming at the top of his lungs in a language Jason didn’t even recognize.

He continued to thrash against the older boy’s grip, much stronger than the average kid his age but still no match for Jason’s mass, until slowly he started to come back down. Whether the episode was passing, or he had simply exhausted himself, Jason couldn’t be sure, but after a few minutes the heart monitor started to settle back into a less agitated rhythm, and Damian managed to find and focus on Jason’s eyes again.

“They gone?” Jason asked, his hands still gripping Damian’s shoulders.

“Please,” he whispered, his eyes never straying from the older boy’s, “don’t make me look.”

“I won’t. You don’t have to look anywhere but this handsome mug, alright? I’m right here. All night if you want.”

Damian nodded, and Jason could see how hard he was trying not to look anywhere else in the room. He could see how petrified this kid was and how tired he was and God since when was this little brat so young?

“Move over,” Jason ordered softly, and to his surprise Damian obeyed and watched without protest as the older boy shed his boots and jacket and climbed into the massive bed with him.

Jason lifted his arm and pulled Damian into his side, gently guiding his face so that it was buried in his shirt to physically block out the rest of the world. He felt Damian shove his face even deeper into Jason’s ribs, and a moment later he felt Damian’s shoulders quivering again, little hiccupping breaths against his side.

“I can still see it,” he whispered.

“I know.” Jason squeezed him harder, glaring around the room and wishing for something to beat the crap out of. He would suck up a couple lungfuls of fear toxin himself right now if it meant he’d be able to stand between Damian and whatever it was that was tormenting him. “But I’ve got you.”

“Thank you, Father,” Damian mumbled, sounding already mostly asleep.

Jason tensed, but forced himself to breathe through it. And when the door finally cracked open nearly an hour later, spilling light into the room, they were in much the same position, Jason having been too scared to move a muscle even after his shoulder had begun to cramp up.

Bruce poked his head in and hesitated.

“It’s alright,” Jason assured him. “You won’t wake him up.”

The older man entered, a silhouette gliding noiselessly across the floor. “I’m sorry for being away for so long. There were some…complications. But we’ve got a promising lead on a new anti-toxin formula. It should help.”

Jason nodded. “I figured Scarecrow must have cooked up something new. I’ve never seen it linger like this before.”

“Hn.” He leaned across Jason to glide his fingers along Damian’s brow and gently cup his cheek. Jason wondered if Bruce could see the dried tear tracks there. “How was he?”

“About how you’d expect. He’s strong, though. Maybe too strong for his own good.”

Bruce chuckled, a quick exhale through his nose, before pulling away. “I can take over from here if you want to go.”

Jason looked at Damian still curled into his side then back at Bruce. Suddenly, he was grateful not to be the one hooked up to the heart monitor. “Actually, think I might hang around for a little while longer. If you’re okay with that.”

Bruce blinked. “Of course. Absolutely.” And taking the seat Jason had moved near the bed, he added, “I always have time for you, by the way. All of you. There’s never anything more important.”

“I know.” And though there were many memories Jason could use to poke holes in this notion, for now at least, he decided not to. Because deep down, he knew how desperately they both wanted it to be true.

And maybe tonight that could be enough.

[cultivatedmemes]

Dragon Age II Starters part 2, part 1 here. feel free to change gender specific words, pronouns,  whatever you like to make it fit your muse better!

❝ How about I shove a canary up your coal mine? Let's go. ❞

❝ You don't want me as sour and dour as you. You need a counterpoint. ❞

❝ I also think of others before myself. You seem tired of that, and that's dangerous. ❞

❝ Bit of a tit, your brother. ❞

❝ You can see what I am.  Lie to yourself if you must. ❞

❝ All right, I'm just going to say it. [Name], you need to present yourself better. ❞

❝ I shall endeavor to exist with less offense. ❞

❝ You're squandering something you don't understand. ❞

❝ I disavow any knowledge of gambling occurring in my house. ❞

❝ We break the law. I'm pretty sure. There are laws for almost everything. ❞

❝ That can't be true. They must like some things... Sunshine? Butterflies? Rainbows? ❞

❝ You're so cute when you're with him! Not like normal-you at all! ❞

❝ Does that do anything? ❞/❝ Mostly it stands in my house, looking a bit spooky. It could fall on someone, but you'd have to push it really hard. It's quite heavy. ❞

❝ Anything could happen. You'll protect them, though. It's what you do. ❞

❝ I love [Name]. I say it a lot. It makes things clearer, takes away doubt when everything is crazy and people are dying. ❞

❝ Everything affects everything. We were born, a bunch of things happened, and now we're in a mess with our friends. ❞

❝ What have I done now? You look like you wish to scold me. ❞

❝ It's too late. The images are already in my mind and they will never, ever go away. ❞

❝ I remember my mother singing to me, when I was a little girl and I'd get sick. I think that's what I miss the most. ❞

❝ Do we know anyone who isn't brooding every hour of the day? ❞

❝ I miss a lot of dirty things and sometimes I wouldn't mind hearing them. ❞

❝ How did you learn swording? Those things you do with the sword. It looks tricky. ❞

❝ You are looking for forgiveness, but I'm not the one who can give it to you. ❞

❝ They say death is only a journey. Does that help? ❞

❝ The chains are broken, but are you truly free? ❞

❝ The smug sense of superiority does give you away. ❞

❝ The past is important, to you and to all of us. We must know it to move forward. ❞

❝ You had a life. You had a family. And you abandoned them to chase after ghosts. ❞

❝ You pity him because he's you. ❞

❝ It's all right, you know. Even you can be happy once in a while. It won't kill you. But your face might crack if you smile, so be careful. ❞

❝ Can I get you something to eat or drink?  I have... water. ❞

❝ You know, a lot of the creatures down here aren't very nice. Don't they teach manners underground? ❞

[puckrph]

' THE FOOL IN HER WEDDING GOWN ' SENTENCE STARTERS

taken from the crane wives' 2012 album.  feel free to change pronouns, etc.

ICARUS

' climb higher, and higher, til you're far away and breathing cleaner air. ' ' who have you become in the wake of all that's happened here? ' ' they're burning down the orchard. ' ' i'm spreading out the ashes of a love that only gave and gave. ' ' there's no room for all the hearts who will not stay. ' ' our hands are pulling everything apart. ' ' there's no more need to lie; we don't have time for that. ' ' it's okay. ' ' my love will fall with grace. ' ' leave our footprints to be lost along the ground. ' ' there is nothing left to bring me back down. '

STEADY, STEADY

' you know when you're ready. ' ' it's a long road, walking into the sun. the heat can make you lose your head, your sense of direction. ' ' i am ready to be the one. ' ' how long is forever? ' ' i'm swimming in this dress like a child in her mother's clothes. ' ' this ring around my finger's like a chain around my throat. ' ' are you so sure you tamed me? ' ' i am ready to run. ' ' ain't it a shame that with time our dreams turned into jokes? ' ' i won't let that be us. ' ' don't just watch me go, you fool. run with me, keep up. ' ' it's not you i'm leaving, are you listening? ' ' i won't say i do til you promise me that though we're gray, we can stay young, and wild, and free. '

EASIER

' if you woke and i was gone from the house that we made our home, would it bend you, break you, overtake your heart? ' ' if i were someplace else, would this be easier? ' ' the only peace i have ever known is the peace i made with you. ' ' i can't stay here. ' ' i learned to lie. i learned to grow. i learned to hold it for a while and let it go. ' ' please tell me someday i'll at least be able to sleep. ' ' i'll just close my eyes and try to pretend that it gets easier. '

SHALLOW RIVER

' i know that the promise you wear... well it ain't for me. ' ' oh dear heart, be still. ' ' may the whole sky fall. may it all come down. ' ' keep your distance. ' ' stay the course when you falter and don't you think of me. ' ' make her leave my mind. ' ' bring it down on my head if these sins are mine. ' ' don't you think of me. '

STRANGLER FIG

' you built your kingdom around me. now i'm trapped within your walls. ' ' all i want is to be free. ' ' all you're doing now is losing me. ' ' desire till there's nothing left of me. ' ' you're the culprit, so don't blame me. ' ' i gave you everything i had, and now i want it back. '

THE GLACIER HOUSE

' i need to know. ' ' i saw your eyes, so sweet, go cold. ' ' you cursed the earth you settled under. ' ' understand: i had to go. ' ' bundle up, darling. ' ' you're on your own now. ' ' you sought to hold yourself in, wait out the weather, close the gate on love forever. ' ' i am not one to live with regret. '

TONGUES AND TEETH

' i've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel, it's all that i can give to you, my dear. ' ' when you come in quick to steal a kiss, my teeth will only cut your lips. ' ' i know that you mean so well, but i am not a vessel for your good intent. ' ' i will only wring you dry of everything. but if you're fine with that, you can be mine like that. ' ' abandon all your stupid dreams about the girl i could have been. ' ' in the night, i know you burn with feelings i cannot return. ' ' you gotta know that this won't last. ' ' i will ruin you. ' ' it's a habit--i can't help it. ' ' i will poison all your happy thoughts. ' ' i love you like the ashes in my cigarette box. ' ' you can be mine. '

BACK TO THE GROUND

' i'm a book on a shelf, collecting dust all by myself. ' ' use me up. ' ' the flowers in our window box don't grow. ' ' i still don't know shit about letting go. ' ' i know you're not the one. ' ' our hearts lay still and cold under frozen soil. ' ' i can't stay here anymore. '

SHOW YOUR FANGS

' weight will only make me week. ' ' i beg the stars to marry me, for they are my guide. ' ' i'm not your highness, a damsel left helpless by fright. i am a lioness, fierce as i walk through the night. ' ' an angry sun before could melt me, but now i will survive. ' ' beasts will show their fangs. they're in for a surprise. '

ONCE AND FOR ALL

' i tried it your way, you tried it mine. ' ' this ain't the good fight. ' ' i'm putting my foot down, weak knees and all. ' ' i only fought for love at your request. ' ' i didn't think you'd be the one to leave me clutching at my chest. ' ' you'd leave me here to die. ' ' my blood's forever on your hands. ' ' i'm just fucking tired. '

CANARY IN A COAL MINE

' you and i are friends of empty graves. ' ' am i the only thing that keeps you safe when the light is gone? ' ' i still hold out hope that maybe someday i'll be worth more than all the silence left in my way. ' ' feed me promises. ' ' i'll sing you songs until the darkness does recede. ' ' if in the end i lose my voice, will you forget about your love for me? ' ' know that all my love will be your breath. '

HOW TO REST

' build yourself a citadel amid the foothills of regret. ' ' you'll miss the sun, the warmth of another's embrace. ' ' all you've ever wanted is an escape. ' ' those of us who vow never to love again are making liars out of honest men. ' ' love doesn't know how to rest. ' ' don't make it harder than it has to be. ' ' here's the truest thing i've ever known: the heart is just a muscle with a rhythm all its own; it doesn't stop when you decide not to move on. ' ' the heart knows nothing of your love or of your loss. ' ' life just keeps on ticking by, compelled by instinct to survive. ' ' love's the only thing worth being alive for. '

[allthecolorsofourlove]

[here’s the canary, here’s the coal mine:

i asked a friend (our friend) something gross and dripping, “would

it be fucked up to tell my mom i’m visiting him,

and just go visit her?”

received a laugh. an immediate yes.

brushed off the idea. still considering it anyways.

messy and uncouth and vindictive, like an angry

dog. full of emotions that i don’t know what to do with but i

know what to do with you:

fingertips and jeans and stolen smiles and paper hearts in my chest and letters i want made

real

the hypotheticals are for naught: i can’t have him even if i tried (i’ve tried.)

beyond that: i’m tired and jaded and i

don’t care anymore and i just feel shame and

bitterness and frustration: i want my best friend back but

i also want you.

(you are real. you are now. this is the present. i want this to be real.)

look. look at me. i told you i’d give you anything.

you don’t get to cry wolf while flashing teeth and not expect an answer —

i told you i’d give you everything, i told you i’d give you

whatever you asked:

this isn’t a poem. this is the podium.

i want you.

i’m telling the world, i’m screaming it out, i’m sprinting into dawn i’m

holding this for you.

look. look: here’s the

confession that hurts:

(i do not like to admit this to myself — for a moment picture us

back in the confessional. i do not want to say it. i do not want to

think it. hide me in your

wings just for a moment, please)

the wound is not the fact that i miss him —

it’s the fact that i don’t.

it’s the absence. something empty. there’s a hole where a

cat-rat-raccoon shaped boy once lived and i just want that filled.

but you aren’t filling it.

(only he can fill it. he promised me he’d fill it. he hasn’t. he’s dancing around it:

this is the bitterness. this is the absence.)

you’re filling me up. you’re swallowing me whole. you’re the

knowing and the unknowing and the

language i’m learning to speak.

give me a masterclass. i’ll give you

the sun.

i’ve gone quiet in correspondence because i am

consumed with this need — (“i have this need…..to be more”)

i said a loss for words and meant it —

you suck the air out of my lungs:

cradling a phone and squeezing my eyes shut and feeling my

face split at the thought of you —

you don’t dance around anything but me and it’s

only ever while you’re holding my

hands, it’s always our hands,

you’re something so good — this is so good.

i’m terrified of being too much:

i’m doing stupid things like

crying over how much you see me or how much you know me or

the way that you care. (how much you care.) i don’t know what to do with

it in the best of ways. i get chills every night and i

tear up at every turn of phrase. i’m fighting to match you without seeming needy. look. look. look:

i am overrun with you, like

ivy or albedo or fever —

i am not lying when the only time i can say these things is behind

bars or glass or iron: i am messy and patchworked and

terrible with compliments as a giver and receiver and i just

promise you to god above

(told you i’d be honest every step of the way)

this isn’t the confessional, it’s the altar:

and i want you i want you i want you i want you i want you i want you i want you i want you i want

you]

[a train starts one place and ends up at the other. the destinations are two distinct locations, wildly different, even if they are connected by the journey of the train. but that connection doesn’t affect how different the destinations are. do you understand what i mean?]

[picture me at the station. as always, as every moment goes, right down to the quick of my being: i am waiting for spring.]

[gravelgirty]

Hi could you talk more about caves what you said on that post is really interesting

Sure thing!

First of all, it was an amazing cave I worked in. You never forget that. I'll pick one of my favorite topics,

the FALLOUT SHELTER AGGRAVATION TAX.

Clears throat.

Limestone caves are literally stone libraries in the geologic record of the world. Twice a year the airflow would change and then you'd smell smoke from decrepit old torches dating as far back as 1812. People made saltpeter in these caves, they were natural mines for things that went boom, and one of those 'requirements' meant airflow so you wouldn't suddenly and embarrassingly, drop dead of too much Underground. This is why the coal miners were eternally bemused and asking us questions like airflow. Sometimes you gotta canary. Sometimes you are the canary. This often led to predictable questions that was these old gents trying to be polite, but what they really wanted to know was,

'why the hell are you being paid $10 a trip plus tips to walk us 1.1 miles underground up to 3 times a day and no one has a mortgage gun aimed at your head?'

To which I would say, 'it wasn't quite that bad. If no one shows up at all we get paid $10.' ...Dear Saint Barbara, Chango, and the Gods of Deep Mystery, the things we tell ourselves. $10 a day. Crap. Thank goodness I had Granny's House, dad was paying the property tax, the water was on a well, and garbage was less that $20 a month. A shame we can't afford a TV, but hey, we can stay busy digging up that quarter-acre garden that will keep us fed plus the road kill Deer in the fall.

But the conditions that created saltpeter (I'll go into depth on that later if people are interested) also convinced some weird-ass people in Washington DC that caves were the perfect place to do a DR STRANGELOVE and people could go hide out in the caves, free of...well, nothing, really, because radiation = straight lines +caves, air, irradiated air and water, and everything goes down into the caves...

Look. It made people feel safe, ok? And it wasn't the worst decision the Pentagon ever made, considering they were telling the scientists working with HOT RADIOACTIVE MATTER to stay safe by sticking the stuff on a long pole so they wouldn't have to touch it.

Everybody knows about the bomb shelter President Kennedy was prepared to run to with his family in case of Cold War. It was in the Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs (I prefer to think of it as the HIDDEN FIGURES birthplace). FYI everybody who lived here knew where it was. There are only so many power stations one measly little resort that cries that it can't afford to pay for its own water bill can keep.

[insert sniffle boohoo sobbing of the pro-confederates who run that place and while I can't be there for you, try to imagine the joy I am stockpiling for the day when we have another traitorous uprising and this time, the resort doesn't get a GO PASS GO by dangerous romantics and is finally burned to the ground.]

Anyway, the important people like the President, his family, his Secret Service, his staff, cook, maid-in-waiting, bootblack and et al got to go bunker down in the luxurious bomb shelter at the resort, which probably wouldn't be very resort-y after a certain point of Castro going, 'fuck you, you whippersnapper Irish Dog' or Khrushchev throwing a little more than his shoe around. I'm not convinced it was that great of a place to hide, really. I mean...they have lightning rods on the trees over there, and believe it or not, cavers in that country have been hit by lightning while underground. Because. Lightning. If it can bake entire acres of potatoes in the field, two subterranean surveyors with metal measuring tape haven't got a prayer.

I want you to know that I can't at this point go into detail (space restrictions) on the importance of all these caves to Union Sympathizers, slaves on the Underground Railroad, and the Far-Righter MAGAS called Confederates. Trust me when I say, if you didn't know where these caves were, you had absolutely no right to know.

In Appalachia, limestone caves were listed on properties and handed down because of their value. Thomas Jefferson made a point of making sure there were lots of caves to provide nitre for the Gunpowder Committee. I don't know if landowners had to pay taxes for having saltpeter caves (probably), but when the Cold War came around, they definitely and cheerfully sold the access rights to the government because...it was the government. I am not in the least bit joking when I tell you there are people over there who are still pissed off over George Washington's Whiskey Rebellion.

If you really want to get into the psyche of Appalachians, go read up every scene Terry Pratchett ever wrote about Lancre in his Discworld books. Just give them more libraries and a LOT of coffee stations.

Oh, dear. I forgot all about the owling and the Prohibition.

Owling = the practice of moving your herds of cattle from one ridge to the next to avoid a higher payment when the taxman came a-calling.

Prohibition = The Second Oldest Profession.

These days, many of the Fallout Shelter caves are being used for...modern needs. Meth labs, if you're a sensationalist, but if you aren't, bear in mind that hiding out stolen cattle and horses still requires big places out in the middle of nowhere. But when Mr. Gov't Man came around and offered cash for the access rights to grand-daddy's old saltpetre cave? Goodness gracious, we know we aren't supposed to take people's money from them because that's a sin, but...taxes...you know how it is... (most of the mountain folk had no real quarrel with Kennedy despite his heathen dog Catholicism because it wasn't his fault he was brought up Catholic, but when it came to the government...well, it was the principle of the thing).

In short order papers were drawn, and shelters were built and good god, they were ugly. Clapboard shantytowns, I swear. They were stockpiles whacked together with off-brand plank and tenpenny nails for where the selected few could bunker up in the cozy, damp, dripping, chilly, dusty, sneezy, probably-warm-from-stray-radiation environs. I have no idea who the Pentagon hated enough that they would send them to these caves. They had a bottleneck opening for easy defense, yes, but there was no defense against puking yourself to death or accidentally taking off your own skin with your uniform at the end of your shift.

YOU THINK I"M KIDDING?? YOU THINK IT IS A COINCIDENCE THAT CLASSIC DR WHO SHOWS DALEK HISTORY IN AN OLD STONE QUARRY? WELCOME ABOARD!

A fallout shelter's stockpile generally consisted of

*High-quality medical equipment, even though some of that stuff had a shelf life of three minutes.

*Radio Equipment. Which was probably a real belly laugh to the folks running the NARO satellite dishes up in Green Bank, because families in the most rural portion of WV (Pocahontas County) spent their evenings parsing Latin and teaching the young lads and lasses the wonders of shortwave and how to rig up your own crystals in case you needed to jackleg your own.

*Food. God. Awful. Food. It was designed to keep you alive, but you can't say anything more charitable about it. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody tried to corner a government contract on dehydrated water.

*Water. Potable water for drinking, but, I should say, I couldn't find any means with which you could make a potable distillery. Or, how much of this potable water was going to be used to rehydrate the ghastly awfulness of the dehydrated food, or the canned goods that included stuff the military couldn't wait to forget. Go ask your grandparents how much canned horse Circa WWII they ate while they served, m'kay?

*Candy. High energy, easily digestible candy. Flavor optional, at the discretion of the same government that made the WWII Chocolate Bar.

*The containers themselves. Yep, they counted. They were heavy metal barrels and tough buckets or small drums, plus the amazingly dense metal and plastic containers for medical kits, candy, and misc. I'm not sure if they had a requirement other than impervious, waterproof, and on sale. In fact, the smaller drums/buckets were supposed to be lined with the plastic used to wrap the other goods, and convert into a toilet.

Cold War comes and goes. I'm sure what happened next is shocking:

1) medical supplies goes missing in the dead of night.

2) Electronics follows. That probably makes the electricians feel good, because...what good would they have done in the wet, dust-filled atmosphere of the caves?

3) Candy. Candy, did you say? I don't remember seeing any candy..?

4) The gradual disappearance of the food rations is mysteriously in proportion to camping trips multitasking with double-dog-dares. Who needs a frat pledge if Freckles here has never been introduced to the joys of Dehydrated Ketchup?

5) If you think the backyard blacksmiths are making forges with tire rims, do you think metal containers stand a chance?

This leaves the barrels of water, but who would want to drink that stuff? It's been sitting around for how long? Ew. And the boards for those shelters...cripes.

This inadvertently makes up a tiny little side bonus for the hard-working tour guide. Because these shelters are usually ridiculously close to the entrance of the tour caves. You have to take your tour group in stages, see, and once they finish gasping and wheezing their way through the first 300 steps, you have to take their minds off how miserable they are and pause at the shelter with your flashlight, and describe this little chapter of history. By this time the bats are hanging off the boards (your chance to remind them of the exorbitant federal fines for hurting these little mosquito-hunters), the occasional lost salamander, and the beginnings of the Dreaded Cave Cricket (ten minutes with these little monsters and you'll never think pink is an effete color ever again).

And the mold. There are patches of mold the guides have been watching for YEARS. Some of them have even bothered to look them up, because...tourists. They love to stump the guides and use it as an excuse for not tipping you because you haven't taken a Master's in The Encompassing Topic of Karst Everything and are clearly a dumbass, hah-hah I'll spend my money in the overpriced gift shop, peasant.

But no, folks. If you ask them one more damn time if they're sure all the candy and drugs are gone...we're too tired to take your bleeping bleep bleep tip anyway.

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Good afternoon uhhhh I have no idea what to say about this except that I wrote it and it exists and that probably does say something about me as a person. Also you may want to read my last fic (knight in a beat-up green jacket) because it gets referenced a couple of times but it’s definitely not necessary.

Title: can you catch me when I'm falling down

Wordcount: 2450

Summary: Party Poison is trying to have a calm day for once. Unfortunately, Cherri Cola needs help.

For once, Poison is actually helpful.

Warnings: blood, self harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of death/child death. Please be very careful. 

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison was alone when the radio crackled to life. It was an ordinary afternoon in the Zones, Kobra Kid was out on his motorbike somewhere, Jet Star was playing with the Girl, getting ready for her nap, and Fun Ghoul was….exploding things, they assumed. Given the loud bangs from out back, it seemed likely. Poison themself was just trying to read a magazine in peace, feet propped up on one of the diner tables, but that was not to be. 

They sighed and reached for the radio. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Cherri Cola’s voice crackled through. He sounded tense, which put them on edge. 

“What’s up, Pepsi?”

“Uh, well, you know how that one time, Ghoul said I was like a knight in shining armor? Right, well, I could kind of use a knight in shining armor right now.”

Poison could see that it definitely wasn’t going to be a peaceful afternoon for them. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?”

“Nothing- nothing in particular. I would just really not prefer to be alone at the radio station today, and everyone else is off doing varying things.” His voice had grown even more strained, sounding close to breaking.

“Fuck’s sake, Pepsi.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Trust me, if I could have asked anyone else for help, I wouldn’t have put this on a teenager’s shoulders.”

“Fuck off, I’m perfectly competent.” They sighed. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Thank you, Poison.” 

Poison swung their feet off the table, pulling their boots and jacket on at the door. “Jet, I’m heading down to the radio station!”

“Okay!” Jet Star called back from the back of the diner. “What for?”

“Cola needs something!”

“Okay! Be safe!”

“I will!” They kicked open the door, shutting it behind them as another explosion sounded from behind the building and Jet shouted something about ‘you woke the Girl up, I just got her to sleep!’. They really had to talk to Ghoul about setting off bombs during naptime. Making a note to do that when they got back, Party climbed into the Trans Am and turned the keys. 

“Alright, let’s go see what the fuck he needs, huh, old girl?” The car obediently revved to life, and Poison took them down the roads at frankly irresponsible speed. Not that they had ever given a fuck about being responsible in the first place, not unless it came to their crew’s safety. 

Party Poison arrived at the radio shack and kicked the door open with exactly as much grace as they had when kicking the diner door open. “Alright, Pepsi, I’m here!”

“Hey, Poison.” The reply was quiet, and they had to look around further before they located Cherri Cola, sitting on the floor against the sofa. A knife was clutched in his right hand, and they thought they could see blood on his arms, dripping down onto the already stained floor.

“What the fuck? Destroya, Cola!” 

Cherri’s eyes were shut tight. “I’m sorry. Please take the knife before I end up doing something stupid.”

“Stupider than this?”

“Stupider as in cutting my fucking throat, Poison.”

“Fuck.” They hurried across the room to wrestle the knife out of his hand, wishing they had made Jet come with them. Jet was actually good at this kind of thing. Thank the Witch, Cherri let go of the knife fairly easily- Poison was pretty sure he would have been able to keep a hold of it if he really tried. They folded the blade away and quickly tucked it into their jacket pocket, wondering if they should bother to check him for other weapons. “Do you have any more knives?”

Cola shook his head, and Poison settled next to him.

“Okay, so why do you want to slit your fucking throat?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Cherri mumbled something they strained to catch.

“What?”

“Just happens sometimes,” he repeated, a little louder.

“Just wake up and want to die?” The feeling was strangely (and sadly) familiar.

“Yeah. I’ve seen a lot of shit, Pois. Killed a lot of people. I know I act like I’m well-adjusted, but I’ve never been well-adjusted.”

They bristled a little at the nickname, but now wasn’t exactly the time to say anything about it. “We’ve all killed a lot of people, Cola.”

He shrugged a second time. “I guess it gets to me more than you guys.”

Silence settled over the two killjoys for a few moments before Cherri broke it again.

“I knew an exterminator, you know.”

“What?”

“Before the war. She was good at origami, and she liked soda, but only if it was cherry flavored, and chewed bubblegum whenever possible. She had a ring she never took off, our grandma gave it to her. Her eyes were clear blue like the sky.”

“So you knew an exterminator.”

“And I killed her.” Cherri’s voice was very straightforward. “I killed her, not because I wanted to, but because we were on opposite sides and I had no choice.”

“Fuck,” They swore. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah. It’s a truth I learned pretty young: people die in war. Not for any reason, not because they’re bad people or because they deserved to die. Simply because they were there. Because they were forced into fighting, because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, because they were trying to make the world a better place. People die because they’re trying to save their friends or their love. Because they want to make the world better for their children. And those children die too, because they’re children in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because they can’t defend themselves.” His voice was shaking, nails digging into his arms. 

Poison swore under their breath and pulled his hands away to reveal another set of crescent marks, adding to the many already there. “Fuck’s sake. Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“I’m open to other suggestions,” Cherri muttered.

They almost snorted. “Well, Cola, pleased to announce you’re going to be just fine, seeing as you’re being a snarky bastard again.”

That got a tiny laugh out of him. “Am I ever not a snarky bastard, in your opinion?”

“When-“ Poison hesitated briefly. “When shit really hits the fan, you’re not. So when you’re being snarky, I know shit’s going to be fine.”

“I wouldn’t use me as an indicator.”

“Eh, you’re a decent one. Canary in a coal mine and all that. I think canaries are a brighter yellow than you, though. Probably better fashion sense, too.” They hardly knew what they were saying, only that they had to find something to talk about.

Cherri gave them a glare for their trouble, if not a very harsh one. “Now you’re the one being a snarky bastard.”

“Uh-huh, but where’s the fun in not being one? Plus, my brilliant plan worked.” Party shot him a small smile. “I’ve distracted you.”

Cherri looked exhausted as he leaned back a bit further, running his hands along his bloody arms, but he was giving them a tired smile. “Sure did.”

“See, I’m a genius.” They climbed to their feet and offered him a hand up, trying to think of what Jet would say. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hey?”

“’kay.”

His hands were bloody and rough, the blood sticking to Poison’s own hands as they pulled him to his feet, but they didn’t say anything about it. Instead, they led him over to the sink of the radio station so they could pour some precious water over his arms, sluicing them clean. They cleaned out the deeper scratches with some sort of foul-smelling disinfectant from the radio shack’s first aid kit and bandaged them up, chattering the entire time.

It was meaningless stuff, rambles about Ghoul blowing shit up during naptime and Kobra’s latest antics on the racetrack, but it was a way to fill the silence, which seemed almost crushing. So Poison unleashed all of it, every update about the Girl and her lessons (“-and Jet has her painting beads!”), every random story they hadn’t told him (“-so that was how we almost ended up with no car and a bucket filled with slime-“) and a few they had (“-then Kobra, dumbass that he is, says ‘it will be fine if I touch these wires!’”).

All their efforts were rewarded by another small, fragile smile from Cola, just barely reaching his sea-blue eyes. It was tiny, but it was real, and Poison had never been so grateful for the endless amount of stupid shit their friends got up to. 

They stuck on a final band-aid and closed the kit, glancing over at him as they tucked it away. “So I’m assuming it wouldn’t be cool of me to just abandon you.”

“Not really, no.”

Poison tried to pretend the shakiness of his voice didn’t affect them at all. “So do you want me to stay here until the rest get back? Or should I bring you on over to the diner so the chaos crew can dogpile you into a good afternoon?”

“You’re part of the chaos crew, I hope you know that.” Cherri fiddled with some of the bandages and Poison pulled his hand away. “D’s at his safehouse in Zone 2, he was worried about Better Living tracing the signal back here. Pony went with him, Newsie’s out somewhere and I don’t know if she’s coming back tonight or tomorrow.” 

“Alright, lets go back to the diner, then. You can stay a night, you’re not that insufferable.” They tried to sound like they really didn’t care. “Kobes will be happy about it, at least.”

“Thank you, Party.”

“Of course, Pepsi.”

It felt weird to be in a car with Cola and be the one driving- most often when they were stuck together, Cola was giving them a ride or they were on a run together using Cola’s truck. But now, Poison was sitting in their usual spot in the Trans Am, and Cherri had climbed into shotgun. Mad Gear was what was blaring from their speakers as they blazed across the desert, knowing Cherri could handle whatever speed they drove. Indeed, he seemed unbothered, staring quietly out the window. Poison mostly ignored him, glancing over occasionally to see if he was okay.

When they pulled up to the diner, it appeared that Ghoul was still testing out explosives (or possibly fireworks), given the bangs from behind. Cherri flinched at each one, and Poison stuck their head around the back. 

“Ghoul! Asshole! Stop it!”

“Why?”

“The Girl’s trying to sleep!”

“Ah fuck, sorry, Pois.” Xe pushed xyr hair out of his face as xe came around the side of the diner. “Oh hey, Cola!”

“Hey, Ghoul.” 

Poison shot Ghoul a warning glare as he opened his mouth again, and xe quickly shut it. “Cola’s going to be staying with us this afternoon, maybe tonight too.”

“Alright. Any particular reason?” 

They almost groaned. Ghoul somehow always had awful timing. “Uh. You know. He gets lonely when everyone abandons him at the radio station.” It was a terrible lie, but Cherri shot them a grateful smile that almost made Ghoul’s skeptical look worth it. 

Thank the Witch, xe was smart enough not to question further. “Okay. Guess we’re heading in, then, if I can’t explode shit?”

Poison nodded to them and led the others inside, looking around. It appeared Kobra had arrived back while they were gone, given that he was lounging in Poison’s usual seat, reading the magazine they had set down. Poison spared a moment to flip him off before peeking into the back to find Jet. They were sitting in his and Poison’s bedroom, humming gently under their breath as the Girl snoozed next to them.

“Hey, Jet.”

Jet looked up, putting a finger to their lips in a shh as they spoke very quietly. “Hey, Pois. Back from the radio station?”

“Yeah.”

“What did Cola need?”

“Long story.” They glanced back at the door to make sure that the rest of the Four (plus Cherri) were still in the main room of the diner before deciding how much to reveal to Jet. “He needed me to make sure he didn’t do anything dumb.”

That was all they needed to say for the other to understand. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, but he has to stay with us today.”

“For the same reason?”

“Wasn’t a smart idea to leave him back at the station alone.”

Jet nodded. “Did you leave him with Kobra and Ghoul?”

“Fuck, I did. I’m…sure he kept them from getting in trouble.”

Jet and Poison wandered back out to find Kobra laying across the table, calling commentary across the room as Ghoul attempted to get some of the power pup off one of the highest shelves and Cherri watched with great concern. 

“This is why we can’t leave you alone,” Jet sighed. “Hi, Cherri.”

“Hey, Jet. Uh, Ghoul decided xe should make dinner, I guess.”

“It’s almost dinnertime anyways! I’m making fancy shit!”

Jet rolled their eyes, but they were smiling as Poison turned to Kobra. “And what are you doing, fuckface?”

“Talking to Cola, bastard.”

“We’re siblings, you idiot, if I’m a bastard then so are you.”

Kobra flipped them off most eloquently, and Poison just laughed as they turned to Cola. “These idiots driving you crazy?”

“No, I love them.”

“Bad taste.” They laughed at Ghoul’s face. “I’m kidding, you’re the best crew. Now everyone shut up, I have to show Cola my rendition of Toxic.”

“The Girl is napping!”

Cherri laughed quietly. “Thank you, kids.”

“Sure thing!”

“We’re not kids!”

“Of course, we love you.”

“Yeah, love you, Pepsi!”

Cherri Cola stayed with them once again, this time in the graffiti-covered diner. He ate dinner with them, and the Girl sat in his lap quite happily. Ghoul and Party cracked stupid jokes back and forth until his smile wasn’t quite so fragile, trading stories about dumb shit they’d done even though half of those stories involved each other. Jet gave him a big hug, and Kobra sat down to talk with him after dinner, until finally everyone was settling down for the night. Ghoul half-jokingly suggested he sleep in one of the booths, and Cherri laughed and said he was a little old for that but ended up curled in the old chair they had salvaged a few months back anyways. Poison made sure he was safely asleep before they went to bed themself, and they were there from the moment he radioed to the moment they dropped him back off at the radio shack to a yawning Newsie who had driven through the night to get back home. 

[claudiafm]

𝓿𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮  𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓲𝓮𝔀𝓼 ~> 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔲𝔡𝔦𝔞 𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔤𝔞

in this issue of vogue we have the honor of interviewing fashionista and bassist Claudia Ortega, in a 4 part series, where she delves into her musical and fashion inspirations, personal life and past

PART 2.

we ask claudia about her love life, crushes, past lovers, and she shares with us another playlist

Feelings - lauv And I know, and I know that it hurts sometimes that it hurts sometimes when I'm with you. And I know, and I know that it hurts sometimes that it hurts sometimes, but I miss you. And I know, and I know that it's on your mind that it's on your mind when I kiss you, but I wanna do whatever you wanna do

“Have you ever been so in love with someone, that you’ll do anything to be with them? Even if it hurts cause you know they don’t love you back? You just wanna do anything with them, holding on to any little thing.”

Stupid - Brendan Maclean And if you weren't so ugly, I could've loved you. It's something I tell myself when down to get high, Lord. If you made me a coffee, I could've loved you, and I'd make you hot chocolate, and anything you wanted Tell me who is invited? So fuckin' delighted to see all the boys you see, tell me why don't I fight it? What does it say about me? And let's not be friends or else this'll never end

“Who ever wants to blame them self? You just come up with any reason they don’t love you, they’re stupid, they’re busy, whatever, but then you see them with others, and it hurts. What is it about me that you don’t love?”

Brand new key - Melanie I asked your mother if you were at home, she said yes, but you weren't alone. Sometimes I think that you're avoiding me. I'm okay alone but you've got something I need. Well I've got a brand new pair of roller skates. You've got a brand new key, I think that we should get together and try them on to see, La la la la la la la la La la la la la la. Oh I've got a brand new pair of roller skates, you've got a brand new key.

“sometimes you think you have someone, but then you start to see them fall in love with someone else, and they spend less and less time with you, but they still have your heart, no matter how you grow. I wanna share my life with you, but you’ve started to shut me out, and share it with someone else.”

Skinny love - Birdy (cover) And I told you to be patient, and I told you to be fine, and I told you to be balanced, and I told you to be kind, and now all your love is wasted, and then who the hell was I? And I'm breaking at the britches, and at the end of all your lines. Who will love you? Who will fight? Who will fall far behind?

“maybe i’m too controlling in my relationships, i expect a lot, i ask a lot, and read too much into things. i’ll always fall behind, always a little forgotten.”

Normal Girl - SZA Wish I was the type of girl that you take over to mama. The type of girl, I know my daddy, he'd be proud of yeah, uh be proud of, yeah uh be proud of, uh be proud, you know, you know. Wanna be the type of girl you take home to your mama, the type of girl, I know your fellas they'd be proud of uh be proud of, uh be proud of, uh be proud of, boy you know. Normal girl, oh I wish I was a normal girl, oh my, how do I be, how do I be your baby? Normal girl, oh, oh, oh I wish I was a normal girl I'll never be, no, never be uh, oh

“maybe if i was ‘normal’ people would like me more, if i was more agreeable, less fashion obsessed, would people love me? maybe, but i don’t wanna let go of those parts of me, i just wish i was in the first place.”

Wanna be missed - Hayley Kiyoko I wanna be missed like every night, I wanna be kissed like it's the last time, say you can't eat, can't sleep, can't breathe without me. I wanna be held, fragile like glass, 'cause I've never felt nothing like that, say you can't walk, can't talk, go on without me. Want you tired every day 'cause I run through your brain, hold me down, keep me safe. This is as good as it gets don't you dare second guess, only want you saying yes

“oh i haven’t been someones first choice in a while, but it’s all i want, i want to be missed, more than a ‘oh i haven’t seen you in so long!’ but in late night calls cause they miss my voice, planning trips together years in advance, I just want to be wanted”

Common Sense - Fallen Pine You know the way you make me smile, but can you do it to yourself? Break me down and make me fodder, just care the way you treat yourself. Don't ever ask yourself If what you're doing is the right thing to do, don't ever think about it, just let it die and sit alone in this room. (I really want to) Forget your common sense, just think about everything else. Forget your common sense don't think about it (Hey) I would do anything for you, I would do anything for you, I would do anything for you, I would do anything for you

“it’s beautiful to be a relationship where you just forget everything, and just be, make one another smile, and encourage one another to be happy. To not even think, to do anything for the other, i miss it.”

Les Funérailles (Prologue) - Left at London My apologies, no way to behave, being bitter will not make you be saved. 'Cause I am abhorrent', cause you remain dormant, 'cause I probably messed up again. We could've been worth it, I could've been listening to your plight and we could've been perfect, but your brand of perfect isn't quite as kind to all of my regrets

“we all have our secrets, our regrets, I’ve messed up plenty, and sometimes you can’t be forgiven, you can’t make it better, no matter how you act.”

Arrow - Andrew Applepie I'm so in love, so in love, so in love, so in love, oh, how it hurts, how it hurts, yes it hurts when it burns. What have we done, what have we become lately, now I'm so dumb, I'm barefoot on the ground, oh, talk to me. I'm feeling, not breathing, a terrifying fear haunts me, twisting my soul around. Fuel me, revive me a shadow plays a burning. And I'm an arrow in the sky, I'm a tantrum, I'm an arrow in the sky, 'Cause I'm a tan-trum

”it hurts sometimes to be in love, it can be scary too, you don’t know whats gonna slip up and ruin the relationship. Talk to me, but I don’t even want to breathe, my lungs full of love and it hurts, but god i’m not letting go”

I’ve Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None On My Fingers - Fall Out Boy You're a canary, I'm a coal mine, 'cause sorrow is just all the rage. Take one for the team, you all know what I mean. And I'm so sorry but not really, tell the boys where to find my body. New York eyes, Chicago thighs, pushed up the window to kiss you off. The truth hurts worse, than anything I could bring myself to do to you. The truth hurts worse, than anything I could bring myself to do to you. Do you remember the way I held your hand under the lamp post and ran home this way, so many times I could close my eyes?

”If i told the truth, I would ruin myself, I would ruin the relationship, my canary would be dead, evacuate the relationship. I’ve grown to accept my position, but I’m so aware of my words, and how one slip could be it for me. The years have only strengthened how I feel, the air in the coal mine is getting worse, but as long as i can breathe, as long as I keep my distance, keep the bird alive, I’ll be ok, right?”

listen here

exit- claudia

[biillyhargroves]

shit is it too needy to request a part three to the billy nightmare demogorgon thing? bc I love it and this is so so good but if you don't want to write more of it, that's totally fine! idk I love it sooooo much and I could read like endless amounts of this...?

oh gosh I’m sorry I’m getting to this so late!! things have been super busy here. but I hope you enjoy this!! I’ve really been enjoying working on this little ‘verse!!

too tired to be fightingpart i: do you have room for one more troubled soul?part ii: you’re a canary, i’m a coal mine(fic requests open)

Silence reigns once more; this time, though, it is tense and it is angry and it is paired with pacing so furious Steve thinks the carpet might burn. They are in Jonathan’s bedroom, where Joyce had ushered them on Jonathan’s offer after Billy began his pacing in the living room.

“The monsters,” El had told him, “in your dreams. They’re real.”

“You-” Billy said, and then, “You were-”, and then, “You saw-”, and then, feeling the heat of so many eyes on him, so many people watching him, so many observe his stumbling and stammering, he shot to his feet with his shoulders rolled back and his hands squeezed to fists at his sides.

“Billy,” Max said, jumping up too, and at the same time Steve said, “Take it easy.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Billy shouted. His tone startled El; she jumped, and she curled against Hopper, who tugged her closer as he said, “Hey!” in a loud voice. He seemed ready to say more, ready to launch into some kind of tirade, but Joyce’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. She bunched a wad of his shirt in her fist and shook him- not hard, but enough to shut him up.

“Enough,” she said. She squeezed El with her free arm, then released them both to stand. Billy’s shoulders rose as she approached. He moved like prey; jerky, untrusting, unsure. He backed away when Joyce stepped closer and flinched when she reached to him. She saw this, and she stopped. “Hey,” she said softly. She glanced around the room, releasing Billy, for a moment, from one scrutinizing pair of eyes. She looked to Jonathan. “I think some space would be good,” she told him, and Jonathan nodded. He rose, too, and again Billy shrunk back. He was like a cornered animal, alert and defensive, but relaxed when instead of moving toward him, Jonathan directed his attention to Steve. 

“First door on the right,” he told him, pointing down the hall. Steve placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder and tried not to react when Billy nearly jumped away. Joyce stepped to the side, making a path for them out of the living room. Billy looked at everyone in turn. He wanted to fight- Steve could feel that -but he was too exhausted to argue, too exhausted to push. 

Now, he is pacing the length of Jonathan’s small bedroom over and over again. He hasn’t said a word since Steve shut the door. Steve sits on the edge of the bed, watching Billy move back and forth and back and forth. He is simmering with something like rage. Twice he stopped to looked at Steve, twice he opened his mouth to- ask a question? say anything? -, and twice he shook his head with a low huff and resumed his pacing. 

“Can you at least sit?” Steve asks. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Billy grunts; it is the clearest response Steve has gotten from him in what feels like hours but, in reality, has only been about twenty minutes. Steve can hear a low murmur of voices outside the door, muffled with distance, and he knows that Billy hears it, too.

“I know that is…” Steve stops himself, suddenly aware that he doesn’t a word. This is what? Confusing, sure. Frustrating, obviously. Scary? Terrifying, even? Something out of a Stephen King novel? He sighs. “I know this is a lot.” 

Billy pauses. He looks at Steve, and he looks angry, but the anger doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes tell a different story. They look like a child’s eyes. Steve opens his mouth to say more, but Billy turns his back again. 

“Do you want to be alone?” Steve asks him. Billy pauses again, this time with his back to Steve, and Steve prepares to be kicked out. He is halfway to his feet when Billy speaks.

“No,” he says. Steve hesitates, not quite sure he’s heard him right.

“No?” he asks. Billy turns to look at him. 

“No,” he says again, and he sits down beside Steve with a heavy sigh. He leans his elbows on his knees and rests his head in hands and, after another moment of hesitation, Steve touches a hand to Billy’s back. 

“Do you want to talk?” Steve asks.

“I want to sleep,” Billy murmurs. He sounds miserable. 

“You think you can?” Steve asks. 

“No,” Billy says.

“Because of-”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Steve rubs circles between Billy’s shoulders, but the tension there stays coiled.

“What did she mean?” Billy asks.

“El?”

“She said they’re real.”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“How does she-”

“She can see stuff,” Steve says. “Uh, she has, like…uh…superpowers, sort of.”

“But how does she know they’re real?”

“She kind of, um- opened the gate for them to get here?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Billy-”

“Don’t,” Billy says. He lifts his head to glare at Steve, but the effect is lost when Steve sees a sheen of unfallen tears. “Don’t fucking patronize me, Harrington, I swear to God.”

“I’m not,” Steve says. “I swear. I’m not even sure I know what patronize means.”

“Fuck off,” Billy huffs, though his tone his lighter. He leans against Steve and Steve slips his around around Billy’s shoulders, holding Billy against him. “I don’t know how she knows,” he admits. “We’ve fought them before. She’s fought them before. But we still don’t really know how they, like…work. This is new territory for all of us. No just you.”

“Great,” Billy says. 

“Bright side,” Steve says, “is that you’re not in it alone.”

“No one else is seeing them in their dreams?”

“Well, uh,” Steve stammers, then sighs. “No. Not that I know of.”

“So how am I not alone?” Billy asks. “I’m just supposed to let my sister’s weird friend stand guard in my fucking head?”

“El can help,” Steve says. “We all just want to help.”

Billy is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Steve says. “You should sleep.”

“If they’re real-”

“-you’ve got backup,” Steve finishes. “Seriously. Okay? You’re covered, man.”

Billy is quiet again, and leans heavier against Steve. Steve lets him. He holds Billy close, rubs Billy’s arm, tucks Billy’s head beneath his chin. They sit there together, entwined, and Steve hums something out-of-tune to drown out the sounds of talking outside. 

“What if they know?” Billy asks suddenly, almost startling Steve.

“What if who knows what?”

“Those things,” Billy says. “What if they know we’ve caught on?”

“You think they have?”

“They looked at her,” Billy says. “At…El.”

“Then we’ll send her back in,” Steve says. “She’ll kick their asses.”

“So, what? I have a fourteen year-old bodyguard?”

“Would you rather go in alone?”

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“What?” Steve asks. He pulls away, one hand holding Billy so that he can look at his face. Billy blinks at him, groggy and weary. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “Okay?”

Billy looks Steve up and down. He bites his lip, looks away, looks at the floor, then back at Steve. He nods, and when Steve pulls him into an embrace, Billy lets his head fall back on Steve’s shoulder. 

“You’re really fucking out of it, Hargrove,” Steve says, “if you think I’d leave you.”

“Shut up,” Billy grumbles. 

And Steve tells him, “Go to sleep.”

An hour passes, and in it Billy does sleep. He falls asleep on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve winces as he lowers Billy onto the bed. He keeps his promise; he stays with him, keeps watch over him, until a knock at the door pulls him away. Billy grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up, and Steve gently brushes Billy’s hair from his face, his thumb lingering at Billy’s temple for a moment, before going to answer the door. 

“What’s going on?” Max asks, and Steve holds a finger to his lips to quiet her. 

“He’s sleeping,” he whispers. 

“Is he-” El starts.

“He’s been okay so far,” Steve says. He leaves the door open a crack behind him as he steps into the hall, and he looks into the dimly lit room to be sure Billy is still asleep before turning his attention to the girls. 

“He’s scared,” El says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah, he is.”

“You’re scared,” Max says, brows furrowed as she looks him up and down.

“Yeah, well, he’s scared,” Steve says by way of explanation. 

“We think El should stay with him,” Max says. “I mean, if he’s sleeping, they can come back, right? She should be there if they do.” Steve looks to El, who nods. 

“I promised I wouldn’t leave him,” Steve says.

“You don’t have to,” Max says. “Just…let us stay, too. To protect him.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, okay. Yeah.”

He leans against the door so that it opens, and he tries to slow it down so that the hinges don’t squeak too much. Every little noise makes him nervous. He doesn’t want to wake Billy- not after everything, not when he’s so desperately exhausted. Max steps inside, and she makes her way to her brother’s side, careful as she lowers herself beside him on the bed. Before El follows her, she takes Steve’s hand.

“He will be okay,” she says, and she squeezes his hand and offers the smallest of smiles.

“I hope so,” Steve tells her, eyes on Billy, so far still sleeping soundly, so far still undisturbed. “I really hope so.”

[gobigorgohome2016]

All the Cliches

When I started writing this post in my head, I was going to title it something like Out of Hibernation, yet make it known that I wasn’t planning to bore you with a 1,300 word soliloquy comparing myself to a Bleeding Heart (which is apparently a Spring perennial and, you know, we’re all about cliches here) blooming through the last remnants of Winter frost.

Then I thought, no, do I really need an intro to tell everyone I’m back on my bullshit after a few steps forward and another step back?  

Then I realized...isn’t running really just the epitome of a giant cliche?  

TL;DR I had a big accomplishment in the fall and thought the momentum would carry over super easily into the Spring.  I ignored some symptoms, realized I was anemic, felt really sad, and now I’m starting to feel like myself again.  aka, the simple, common, cliched journey of every.single.runner.

Even though this experience is the embodiment of what it means to be an endurance athlete, why do we act surprised every single time?  Leading up to Philadelphia, after my year of mystery illness [which, it turns out, had another plot twist.  Remember how I was having a massive immune system reaction and pretty terrible quality of life?  Well, after we found mold in the house the problem went 90% away.  The remaining 10% was still driving me crazy.  Long story short, the installation of a whole-home water filter has returned me to a fully functioning human being.  Hello, my name is Anna and I’m just your local canary in the coal mine] I vowed I would do a better job about just letting life go with the flow and not try to fight the current every step of the way.  I guess I got too big for my britches because - lo and behold - I found myself avoiding what I pretty much knew all along.

After Philadelphia, I took 2 weeks off and really enjoyed my down time.  The highlight was a day trip to French Lick, where Dave and I hit the casino (I won $25), ate all the sweets, shopped, split an amazing kobe beef burger, got day drunk, and took the scenic drive home.  The next day I started running again and, much to my surprise, felt way better than I normally do after two weeks of zero exercise.  This felt like a big win. 

December turned out to be extra crazy, then at the end of January I co-hosted a women’s running retreat, BAnna Camp.  Any fatigue I was feeling during December and January I just chalked up to stress and the typical things you do when you’re in that awkward in-between period from one race to another:  less sleep, less healthy food, less fitness.  

^have to make sure this post never dies

The first day I was in Austin, Becki and I did a workout together.  It was my first “real” workout back (other than some fartleks and strides), and it wasn’t even supposed to be hard:  3 x 7 min @ 6:00 pace.  I STRUGGLED.  I couldn’t breathe, my quads were heavy, and the paces felt much more difficult than they seemed like they should.  But, there were plenty of excuses:  it’s windy, we were running a net uphill, I was dehydrated from travel, I was stressed about the upcoming camp, etc. etc.  Midway through that workout I had a very distinct thought of oh shit, this feels very anemic right now.  That night I texted my friend who would be joining us later in the week and asked her to bring some iron pills, since I had forgotten my supplement.  

The following week my workout didn’t feel great, but again, it was easy to make excuses.  I was on a treadmill.  I was still catching up on sleep from camp.  Maybe I’m more out of shape than I thought. 

Longer efforts didn’t feel great, but I was getting them done.  My paces felt quick, but, winter training never feels amazing.  Plus, it seemed like every workout I did was into a strong wind, so how can you really judge pace and effort?  

In early February, I had my first race of the season which was a 5 miler in downtown Indy.  I had told Dave I was going to hold 5:30 pace for as long as I could and see what happened.  My first mile was 5:54, and Dave said he could hear me breathing before he could see me.  I was 3rd that day in just under 30:00.  Again, there were plenty of excuses.  It was windy.  We had celebrated Valentine’s Day the night before, so maybe steak, lobster, buttered mashed potatoes, and wine wasn’t the best pre-race meal?  

During my sulking about the race I had an aha moment.  In December, prior to realizing we had an issue with our water, I was trying to figure out what was still causing skin rashes and GI issues.  The only thing I was taking every day was ferrous sulfate, which is an iron supplement that is gentle on your stomach but has some suspect ingredients (food colorings, sorbate, etc.).  I decided to switch my supplement (one that had worked for me for YEARS) to something that seemed “cleaner”:  ionic iron.  While I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what could be wrong, it occurred to me to check my iron dosage.  

I was taking ~10% of my normal ferrous sulfate dosage, and honestly don’t even know how absorbable ionic iron even is.  That day I made the switch back to ferrous sulfate, but knew that if my iron/ferritin was low, it would take about 6 weeks before I felt a difference.

If at this point you’re reading along and thinking to yourself, it’s not expensive to just go and get a blood test to find out whether your iron is low - you are absolutely correct.  I should have just scheduled an appointment to take a blood test and find out.  But, I’m stubborn.

Two weeks after my 5 mile race I flew to Atlanta for the Road to Gold, an 8 mile race on the 2020 Olympic Trials course.  This is a whole other post in and of itself, but I will say that the hype is real.  That course is going to be hard.  

While the experience was great, my time was not.  My goal had been to run 5:45 pace through the first 4 miles and then pick up the pace.  While I did go through the first 4 miles in 22:50, just under my goal, I went through the next 4 miles in 24:20ish, and again felt as though I couldn’t breathe.  I finally conceded it was time for a blood test. 

The results were pretty much exactly what I thought they would be:  low ferritin, high CO2 in my blood, and borderline-low Vitamin D.  After weeks of agonizing over whether I was out of shape I finally had an answer (albeit one I should have just figured out sooner).  So, I upped my iron supplement and looked ahead.  

Nowhere to go but up, right?

In the following weeks I paid better attention to meal timing (i.e., if I was having a steak for dinner I wasn’t pairing it with red wine or other iron-inhibiting foods).  I cut out my second cup of coffee in the afternoon so that my body could have a better chance at iron absorption.  I focused more on sleep.  I got back on nutrient tracking to make sure I was getting everything I needed from my diet.  

and it paid off

6 weeks after my miserable 5 mile race where I could barely run faster than 5:58 pace for 5 miles, I ran 1:16:37 in the Carmel half marathon on a less-than-ideal day with rain and wind.  

During race week I cut out all caffeine and red wine to hopefully give my body the extra boost it needed to absorb iron.  I meal prepped early in the week so that I had nutrient-rich options readily available.  I said no to a couple work-related opportunities that popped up in favor of less stress, and I gave myself my best chance to succeed.  

In truth, sometimes setting yourself up for success is scary.  What if you do everything possible and you don’t succeed?  I have seen so many talented athletes give up because they went all in and it didn’t immediately pay off.  But, that’s probably another post for another day, too. 

Come race day we had 15 mph winds, pouring rain, and puddles on the course.  It will sound sarcastic when I say this, but that truly is my favorite racing weather.  Going into the race my A goal (not accounting for weather) was 75 min, B goal 76 min, and C goal 77 min.  My plan was to run the first 10 at 5:45 effort, then see how fast I could go the last 5k.  

Starting off, I was very pleased to find myself in a pack of men and through the first mile around 5:40.  I NEVER trust my GPS, so all splits I give will be those from the course.  I went through 4 miles in 22:50 - the exact same time I went through 4 miles in Atlanta, only this time I felt so much better.  I went through 6.55 (again, as marked on the course, not my GPS) in 37:26 and felt like I really had a chance at sub 75 still.  Through 10 miles I was right at 58 min.  I felt strong for the first time in a long time. 

Around mile 11 I started to get tired, and just focused on getting through 0.5 miles at a time.  T last couple miles were definitely the toughest, as they were mostly uphill/into the wind.  76:38 is my fourth fastest half [74:03, Houston, PERFECT weather; 75:20, ‘17 US championships, goal race full taper, 75:59, Columbus half, 4 weeks out from Philly], and this gives me a lot of encouragement considering some sub-par months of training.    

Now that I am feeling the effects of higher ferritin, I’m beginning to wonder if I wasn’t a little bit low during my Philly build up.  I have had some of my best long runs and workouts the past couple weeks - ones that would have blown away what I did leading up to Philly.  It also makes sense, given how I felt the last half of my Philly race, that my ferritin may have been low.  Moving forward, I’m going to schedule blood work much more regularly so that I don’t have preventable problems like this occur.  Definitely kicking myself, but, as with all failures in life it was a great opportunity to learn and grow.  

My next race is in 6 weeks and I’ll be at the 25k championships in Grand Rapids.  I’m looking forward to seeing what another 6 weeks of quality training and (hopefully) warmer weather can do for my fitness!