#and the two minute song is tucked into a 9 minute song on spotify

[timeflieslikeabanana]

I get into very niche and obscure things, which is awesome and I love it, but then I have this problem where I can't share what I love about something to my friends without 50 different layers of context and I don't want to blab for a half hour to my friend about it and scare them off

[wlntrsldler]

Chérie (Bucky Barnes Imagine)

yoncexl submitted:

Can I have a enemies to lovers with Bucky? Pleaseee where y/n is a sunshine and Bucky a grumpy old man tysm 💖💖

Anonymous said:

64 from the prompt list w Bucky? hehe love u (“I think your cat wants to kill me.”)

PROMPT: Bucky doesn’t understand why Y/N is always so happy. He never thought he would be one of the people who got entranced by her until he was. 

Warnings: fluff, some language

Song: Cherry by Harry Styles

-

Sure, maybe Bucky was being irrational. It wasn’t like he meant to be annoyed by your bubbly personality but how could someone be so goddamn happy all the time? 

Clearly there were more things to complain about and mourn than there was to celebrate. You were in the midst of a pandemic, Steve came back as a wrinkly old man, you lost two good friends, the world was burning to ashes and yet, here you were. Happy as a peach.

You squealed loudly, interrupting a napping Bucky in the common room, after ripping open the 70th package (It was more like 4th package but Bucky liked to exaggerate) you received in the mail. He opened his left eye, wanting to revert back to the moments before your arrival when there was peace and quiet. He saw you stare fondly at the new record you just bought. Another pop album, he assumed. That’s all you ever listened to.

“Do you mind?” He huffed, twisting his body to face you. His eyes were now wide open, unable to return to his peaceful slumber. “Some of us are sleeping.”

Bucky knew he didn’t really have a right to be mad at you. He had his own room to take naps in and he could easily just walk over and do just that. He just liked giving you attitude, hoping you’d return it one day. But that day was not today.

“Sorry,” You blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Just got carried away. Look what I got.”

Bucky’s expression remained cold. It was a sight to see, really. The young, bright, and cheerful expression on your face. The wide smile traveling from your lips to the crinkles by your eyes. Your head was peeking up above the large record in your hand. 

And then there was Bucky. Big and built, hair in disarray, with his lips pressed in a thin line. His arms were crossed on his chest, biceps prominent. He stared at you with a blank expression, counting the seconds before you finally retreated the record you shoved in his face. 

“I wanted to get the limited edition one but that was sold out.”

Harry Styles: Fine Line, he read the tag on the corner of the plastic. The name was familiar. He remembered it displayed on the car radio in the last mission you two shared. Bucky remembered the loud, off-key, singing of you and Peter in the backseat of the car, as he sat beside a driving Sam. Sam wasn’t a fan of the music but he was a fan of seeing Bucky’s irritated expression so he let you and Peter control the music for the four hour drive back. 

It was hell. 

You finally removed the record from his space and admired it. You sighed in adoration, clutching the disk close to your heart. You began to pick up the scraps of delivery papers that littered the floor and started walking towards your bedroom. 

Finally, Bucky sighed in content, some peace and quiet.

Just as a small smile started to form on Bucky’s face while he started to get comfortable again on the couch, a faint noise was heard from down the hall. He groaned loudly, grabbing one of the couch cushions to cover his ears. Of course you’d play it the minute you got it to your record player. 

It didn’t fully drown out the noise in the background, irritating Bucky some more. So much for sleep.

He wouldn’t ever admit it to your face but your music wasn’t that bad. 

-

“Uhhh, Buck?” You questioned from behind him. He rolled his eyes, earning a slap on the arm from Sam. Be nice, that’s what his look told Bucky. “I think your cat wants to kill me.”

“That means I taught him well.” Bucky muttered under his breath. A part of him didn’t want you to hear it, but he secretly hoped you did. 

“Dude.” Sam smacked him behind his head. “Really?”

You laughed wholeheartedly, emerging from the kitchen with Alpine in your arms. “Never mind, he just wanted me to pick him up.”

Bucky’s eye twitched upon seeing you cuddle with his pet. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, per se, he was just aggravated that everyone and everything seemed to love you. It was like they all gravitated towards you and he didn’t understand why. 

Okay.. maybe he did. You were a good person. Nearly perfect, even. But that’s why Bucky didn’t like you. There was no way someone could ever be that perfect. 

Firstly, it wasn’t really fair. Nobody should ever be this like-able. Or kind. Or funny. Or pretty. Or strong. Or passionate. Or fucking perfect. It was really just unfair.

Secondly, Bucky knew he had some problems. He knew he didn’t really think much like everyone else. Sam called him mentally unstable for not being able to be civil with you, more than a few times, and Bucky actually agreed. Had he met you before all of this happened, he would’ve liked you. Hell, he may have even had a crush on you because back then he was like you. He was hopeful, the “glass half-full” type of person. But after everything that happened in his life, he changed. He just didn’t get how you managed to always look on the bright side even when the world was crumbling at your feet. 

It was Alpine’s purring that snapped him out of his thoughts. The cat was now rubbing against his calf after you put him down to exit the room. Bucky smiled softly at the cat that Steve got him a few weeks ago. Alpine licked Bucky’s metal hand a few times before making his way to his little cat bed in the common room. 

“You need to play nice.” Sam warned him, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “I still don’t get why you hate her so much.” 

“Something about her seems off to me.” Bucky shrugged, cleaning up his finished plates. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. “I don’t know.”

“No,” Sam replied, following Bucky’s actions. He dumped his plates on top of the ones in Bucky’s arms. “Something about you is off.”

He glared at his friend who was already halfway out of the room before he tried to call out for him to do his own dishes. Bucky accepted defeat and made his way to the kitchen to start washing the dishes. He saw your washed dishes placed neatly on the drying rack, clear that it had just been washed. He silently thanked you for always cleaning up after yourself. His eyes drifted to the pile of dirty plates that slowly accumulated from the Avenger’s breakfast festivities. Unlike the rest of them, he sighed. 

Bucky placed the plates down for a quick moment to retrieve his phone and airpods from his pockets. He unlocked it and searched through the Spotify app. He started to look at the rest of the Avenger’s playlist. For a special agent who valued confidentiality, you sure did want people to know exactly what you were listening to. Bucky learned to turn that feature off after Sam bullied him after he saw that Bucky was listening to the Hairspray soundtrack. 

His eyes locked at your Spotify playlist. Hmm, he thought, why not? Bucky pressed at the familiar title of the album the link took him to. He inserted the airpods in his ears and hit shuffle. 

The songs made the chore of cleaning up after the Avengers a little less tedious. 

-

You were silently reading the new book that came in your subscription box on the balcony of the tower. Nothing could be heard for miles besides the sounds of nature and the faint noise of cars passing by the highways. 

Most of the team had gone out to get dinner but you opted to stay in and get caught up with your book. A blanket was draped carelessly over your legs, shielding your bare legs from the cold. You turned the page, your thumb finding its way between your lips. It was a habit you could never seem to break. You did it subconsciously, especially when you were deep in thought or extremely focused on something. 

You were engrossed in your book, not hearing the knocking that came from the other side of the balcony door. Bucky looked at you from behind the clear, sliding door. He squinted trying to read the cover of the book you were reading. It was different from the one he saw you reading a month ago. Your ability to read and finish books quickly intrigued him since he was someone who could never sit in a chair without fidgeting, much less read a 300-something page book.

He realized he was staring for far too long. Bucky entered the balcony and cleared his throat, causing you to drop your book and look up at him. You offered a warm smile, “Hi, Buck. What’s up?”

“Me and Wanda are ordering in,” He explained, his eyes drifting to the cover of your book. Only Love is Real by Brian Weiss, he noted in his head. “Did you want anything?”

You pondered the question for a minute, “Maybe some fried chicken.”

“Okay sounds good,” He replied. “You should come in soon, it’s getting late.”

You looked around. It had gotten significantly darker than when you first came out. The lamp beside you that helps you with reading masked the sinking sun. “What time is it?”

Bucky pulled out his phone to check the time. You caught a glimpse of his lock screen, eyes growing wide when you noticed the too familiar song and album cover in the front. Cherry by Harry Styles. “9:21PM.”

He looked up to see you fighting back a small smile. His eyebrows furrowed, staring back at you. You noticed his worried look and immediately straightened up. “Thanks, Buck. I’ll come in soon.”

Bucky nodded and turned around to return back into the compound. You stayed quiet about what you saw but you couldn’t help the large smile overtaking your features. You’ll tease him about this one day, just not tonight.

You focused back on your book, your mind becoming one with the words on the page again. You spread out the blanket some more to cover your legs better and cuddled into the softness of the outdoor sofa. The sounds of the city was being drowned out, however, by the faint sounds of strings and the French voice of Camille Rowe.

-

“Y/N ordered another package.” Sam laughed, picking up the boxes left at their doorstep. “Oh, hold on a second.”

Bucky’s head perked up at Sam’s words knowing that there’s going to be some teasing that will follow. The mundane boxes were almost, always yours. You were the only one in the tower who liked to spend your money on things like clothes, accessories, and sometimes snacks. The rest of the team just ordered it from Stark Industries and it would magically appear in their compound in less than 24 hours. 

“Did you order something from Ebay, Barnes?”

He snatched the box from Sam, grunting in response to his question. “Isn’t it a federal offense to go through people’s mail?”

“No, it’s a federal offense to open people’s mail. There’s a difference.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and brought the package to his room. Once the door was shut, he let himself smile at the brown box in his hands. He sat down on his bed and started unwrapping it. His eyes glossed over the vinyl record. Limited Edition, the sticker on the corner stated. It was the one you told him about.

Maybe it did dent his bank account more than he would have liked it to but he knew you would love it. He was just sitting in his bedroom and he heard you quietly sobbing, a few nights ago. If he didn’t have super-soldier hearing he would’ve definitely missed it. It was quiet but it was there. 

The familiar tune of Cherry played from your record player. Bucky sat up in his bed, not knowing if he should come in and comfort you. It was the way that you halted your sobs, to make yourself more discrete, when the song ended, that broke his heart into pieces. He couldn’t stop himself from getting up his bed and walked over to the room beside him. 

Before he could knock, he stopped himself. What would he even say to you? He just stood there in front of your bedroom door, not knowing what to do next. He hasn’t necessarily been the kindest to you, even when all you’ve been was pleasant. He really didn’t have the right to even try to comfort you. 

He sighed sadly and retreated back to his bedroom.

So now here he was, three days after that night, with the vinyl you’ve wanted for a while, that he paid extra for expedited shipping for. Bucky dusted off the plastic covering of the vinyl and made his way to your room. His plan was to place it on your bed and walk away, he wasn’t expecting you to be there. You were supposed to be on a mission.

Bucky’s eyes widened, frantically hiding the vinyl behind his back. Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at him confused. “What are you doing here, Buck?”

“I thought you were out.”

“Decided to stay in. What are you doing here?” You asked again. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company and all, but I’m just curious.”

Of course, Bucky thought. Only you would be trying to assure him that you enjoy his company when he invaded your privacy by barging in your room. “I have something for you.”

Your eyes lit up at his words. You turned to face him on your bed, your legs criss-crossed. “You do?”

Bucky extended his arms out, showing you the vinyl that he got for you. You gasped, leaning over to touch it. Tears welled up in your eyes, words getting stuck in your throat. “I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Bucky,” You sighed, holding the vinyl by your chest. “I love it.” 

“I’m glad.” He said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he answered you.

“Why did you get this for me?”

“I heard you the other night,” He confessed, taking a seat beside you. “I heard you crying. I-I was gonna come in and try to comfort you but I don’t really have much expertise on that. Plus, I haven’t really been the nicest to you, I wouldn’t know where to start to try to make you feel better. Then I remembered you talking about this record. Music seems to make you happy, I think, so I bought it.”

You placed the vinyl safely beside you and engulfed Bucky in a tight hug. He was stiff for a few seconds, not knowing how to respond to such physical affection, but he later warmed up. His arms wrapped themselves around you, letting himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, smelling your sweet perfume. You heard him sigh under your touch and you started to wonder when was the last time he was held like this. 

“You’re amazing,” You murmured in his shoulder, pulling away. You kissed his cheek sweetly, a blush creeping up your cheeks once you saw the redness on his. “Thank you, Buck. I can’t explain how much this means to me.”

He smiled at you, genuinely. It was the first time he smiled at you without it being partnered with a smart, witty remark. It wasn’t sarcastic or anything, just pure fondness. “Anytime, Y/N.” 

You two just sat there staring at each other for a few moments before he cleared his throat and got up. “I should leave you to it. I know how you like to listen to records the minute you get them.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You never noticed how much he actually paid attention to you. “Wait, Buck. Do you wanna stay and listen to it with me?”

He took a look at you, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. He was silently hoping that you would ask him to stay but now that those words did leave your lips, all the life was winded right out of him. You liked his presence. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love yours. 

“Let’s see what all the hype is about.” He teased, taking a seat beside you again.

“Oh you’ll love it,” You smirked, remembering the time you saw that he was listening to the album on his phone. “He’s great.”

“I doubt it.”

You continued to fight off the goofy smile on your face as Bucky tried to act like he hasn’t listened to the album before. You looked at his expression when the familiar tune of Cherry started playing. You pretended to look away, getting on your phone to look busy. Your eyes looked up at Bucky who was discretely mouthing the words to the song. 

[sunlightbabe]

how sweet it is

Pairing: ben hardy x reader A/N: i'm in a soft mood (but when am i not lbr) and james taylor came up on spotify so here's some disgustingly domestic fluff xx

You didn't consider yourself much of a morning person. Waking up early and getting out of bed right away to start your day never sounded all that appealing to you. You'd much rather laze around in bed for awhile, checking your phone and enjoying the warmth of your blankets. Ben was the same way and so when the two of you moved in together? You were lucky to roll out of bed by noon on the days you both had off.

Today was different.

Sunlight filtered in through the open kitchen windows and soft notes from an acoustic guitar played from your phone from where it rested on the counter. You quietly hummed along and gently rocked from side to side as you cracked an egg into the bowl before you, careful to avoid getting any bits of shell into the batter. A faint breeze shifted the curtains and a small shiver trailed down your spine. It was the first day of Spring that had actually felt like Spring and you were comfortable in just sleep shorts and one of Ben's t-shirts.

You tucked the eggshells into the open mix box and double checked that you added everything you were supposed to. Baking mix, eggs, milk. Check, check, check. With a satisfied little smile, you crossed the room to toss the box into the trash and went to the cabinets to grab the vanilla extract, a secret your mother had taught you years ago.

You didn't consider yourself a morning person and yet here you were, wide awake and baking before noon. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was just a few minutes past 9:30 in the morning.

Earlier that morning you had woken up naturally and for the first time in a long while, you felt well rested. The ever present grogginess that accompanied your mornings just hadn't been there. It didn't hurt that Ben had been fast asleep, curled up on his side and facing away from you, head shoved under the pillows. Getting out of bed would have been harder if the two of you had been tangled together, and you would have curled up against him, your chest to his back, but your stomach grumbled and you remembered that there was a box of chocolate chip muffin mix waiting for you in the kitchen.

The song changed from one acoustic song to another as you poured the batter into the lined muffin tray, careful not to get any of it between the cups or on the counter. Soon enough, they were baking away in the oven.

You were at the sink, rinsing out the mixing bowl and softly singing along to the music, when you felt something cold and wet press against your calf.

"Good morning to you too lovebug," you cooed as you smiled down at Frankie. She sat by your feet and looked up at you with wide eyes and you swore you saw a hint of a smile on her doggy face. You dried your hands off on a nearby dishcloth and wasted no time in bending down to scoop her up.

"Thought for sure you'd come running when I opened the fridge," you said as you scratched behind her ear and her eyes drifted shut in contentment. "Guess you were still sleeping though, huh?"

Frankie yawned and you smiled as you pressed a kiss against the top of her head. You started to sway to the music and it wasn't long until you were full on dancing with Frankie in your arms, singing along in a hushed tone, movements sweeping and languid as you moved in small circles.

The pup tolerated and even seemed to enjoy your dancing, her tail thumping against you as you bopped around. The song came to an end and you finished your dance with a careful dip.

You heard a slow clap come from the doorway and you giggled as Frankie eagerly wiggled out of your arms and ran forward.

Ben, wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants, pushed himself off from where he was leaning against the door frame and held open his arms. With an excited 'boof', Frankie leapt into him, paws landing on his chest as she licked all over the lower half of his face. Ben chuckled quietly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he hugged his dog to his chest and the sight of it made your heart swell.

"How long were you standing there for?"

"Long enough," Ben said, "but what are you doin' out of bed so early?" Ben asked, flickering his gaze up to you.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" You took a few steps back to lean against the counter.

Ben took a moment to ruffle Frankie's fur and kiss her nose. "I rolled over and you weren't there," he said with a small shrug. He gave Frankie one last pet before setting her back on the ground and standing up. "What's your excuse?"

"Muffins," you said with a small hum. Ben smiled as he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you. He lowered his head to your shoulder and you giggled as he nuzzled against you, hair tickling against your neck.

"Thought I smelled somethin' good," he mumbled against your skin. You ran a hand slowly over his back, earning a happy little noise in response.

The two of you stood there, wrapped up in each others  arms as music continued to play from your phone. Ben turned his head and you could feel his nose bump into your neck. "Come on lovely," he said before pressing a kiss under your jaw. "Come back to bed."

A content sigh slipped from your mouth as Ben continued to softly kiss along your neck and jaw. "I have to wait until the muffins are done," you said, biting your lip to hold back a giggle as he huffed against you.

"How much longer do they have?" His arms flexed as he held you closer to him, his hands starting to wander to your sides and hips. Ben nipped at your pulse point when you didn't answer right away.

"Just a few more minutes. They don't take too long." You brought a hand to his shoulder and he straightened up to look at you. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were half-lidded, pupils wide as he gave you an all too familiar look. "Not nearly long enough for whatever you're thinking about, bub," you teased.

Ben gasped in shock. "Excuse me, but I have nothing but the purest of intentions." He batted his eyelashes and before you could call him out, he pinched your butt. You let out a squeak, Ben smirked, and you playfully slapped his chest.

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, impossibly adorable." Well, he got you there.

The two of you stared at each other as a comfortable quietness settled between you. You brushed his hair away from his forehead and he smiled at you before leaning in to give you a gentle kiss.

You loved these moments. Your lives could be hectic sometimes and that was putting it mildly. Ben's work would take him away from home for months at a time and even when he was home, he still had auditions and photo shoots and interviews and all that fun actor stuff. You had your own life too- you had work, and family, and friends, and sometimes it was hard to juggle everything.

But you didn't have to worry about any of that. Not now, not with Ben's arms wrapped around you, bodies held close together, so close you swore you could feel his heart beat.

The song changed once more and after a moment, Ben started to sway side to side, his arms pulling you along with him as he rested his head on top of yours. You smiled and danced with him- although calling it dancing would be generous.

"You know," you started, fingers tapping along to the beat against him, "for someone who played a drummer, you're awfully bad at keeping time."

Ben chuckled and squeezed you closer. "Give me a break, 'm not fully awake yet."

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, fingers caressing his cheek. Ben leaned into your touch. "Go back to bed, hon."

"Without you? You're delusional." The way he looked at you, so warmly and fondly, made you feel weak in the knees. You brushed your fingers against his lips and he kissed your fingers.

The timer on your phone went off, interrupting the song, and you could hear Frankie bark from the next room over.

"Perfect timing," Ben said, looking just a little too smug. He stepped away from you and out of the way as you turned the oven off and removed the muffins. The tops were the perfect shade of golden brown and a quick test poke with a wooden skewer showed that they were done.

You barely had enough time to remove the oven mitt before Ben was reaching for your hand and tugging you out of the kitchen and back towards the bedroom.

"Hey!" you giggled as you trailed after him. "I've been slaving away in the kitchen all morning to make breakfast for us."

"Muffins can wait. Sleep can't."

You didn't go back to sleep. And that was perfectly fine with you.

[txnysheart]

let’s get on with living (while we can) [6]

chapter 6: the sun will rise and we will try again

word count: 5607

warnings: chemo side effects (including hair loss and insomnia)

summary: the three friends do their best to have fun together, but the reality of the situation is always looming over them

read on ao3: x

playlist: x

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9

series masterlist | masterlist

━━━━━━━━

An array of distressed emotions flickered over his face, and that snapped MJ out of her stunned silence. “Peter, it’s okay. It’s okay, we knew this was gonna happen,” she tried calming him down, but Peter just pushed away from them, desperate for his dads. He almost fell out of bed, Ned grabbing his arm to prevent it, and rushed as fast as he could to get to his dads.

“Peter!” Ned worriedly called out, but MJ put a hand on his shoulder. She also grabbed the clump of hair from his hand, dropping it on the floor for now; just not keen on Ned to be holding or seeing it for any longer than necessary.

“He needs Tony and Steve right now. It’s okay,” she told him.

Peter wished he could sprint, but his body could barely handle a light jog. And still, it took its toll on him quickly; he stumbled, almost nose diving right to the floor three times before he grabbed onto the door handle that would let him see his dads. First time, he lost his grip, but got it open the second time, stopping for a short moment, then walking into the room.

A raw sob tore up his throat, startling the two men awake from their light slumber. They'd both only fallen asleep less than half an hour ago. He spluttered nonsense as he walked to the bed, and Tony, being the one closest to the door, pulled him into his arms. He physically felt himself snap out of his fog, the need to protect Peter overriding absolutely everything else. He felt it all; it was almost too much, but moved his focus to his hysterically crying son who was shaking in his arms.

“You need to breathe. Peter, look at me, you need to breathe,” Tony encouraged, trying to get Peter to look at him, but he was avoiding his eyes. Steve pieced it together when he tried to calm him by playing with his hair, and instead of melting into the touch, Peter flinched away. An overwhelmed and confused Tony searched Steve’s eyes for an answer, and got it when his husband whispered “hair”.

The already upset Peter really didn’t need an anxiety attack on top of this, so Steve cupped his face. “Listen, sweetheart. Shh, listen,” he cooed, “you’re okay, we’ve got you.” Tears running down his face, eyes wide and mouth in a small pout, Peter looked much younger than he was. “Petey, we knew this was coming. There’s nothing we can do about it, and that’s okay. It’s okay, I promise.”

What they didn’t tell him was that the past couple of days, there’d been strands of hair coming out whenever they ran their fingers through it. Not much; just enough for it to be more than what could be considered normal.

Peter inhaled sharply, his crying breaking up his breathing into small gasps. “I’m so-sorry, I shouldn’t ha-”

“No, sweetie, shh. Nothing to be sorry about,” Tony soothed, rocking him back and forth as if he were a baby.

“MJ a-and Ned. Ned was- he was scared,” Peter cried, voice hoarse.

“He’ll be fine, MJ’s there. There’s nothing she can’t do,” Tony promised him, drying away tears with his thumb. “They’ll be there in the morning, you can sleep here.”

“I can’t,” Peter whined, voice cracking.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Steve inquired, tilting his head.

“Sleep. I… I can’t sleep.”

“You can’t sleep?” Tony clarified, feeling a little sick at the thought. Peter shook his head and then hid his face in Tony’s shoulder, puffing out warm breaths on his collarbone.

“I tried,” the boy croaked, “that’s why Ned was playing with my hair, and then… well, yeah. But- but I can’t sleep. I’m tired, but it doesn’t work.”

“Insomnia is one of the possible side effects,” Steve reminded them solemnly, wrapping his arms around both his husband and their son. “I’ll see the doctors tomorrow and ask if they have something that can help you sleep. Okay?”

A small hum accompanied by a nod made Steve smile. “Good,” he smiled. “So proud of you.”

“We really are,” Tony added, but Peter just wriggled out of his arms to lie between them. He latched onto Tony, Steve holding them both from the other side of Peter. Upon feeling a hand in his hair, he squirmed away with a small whine, but was still clinging to Tony. Whoever of them that’d touched his hair seemed to get the hint, the hand making circles on his upper back instead.

“Can we listen to some music?” Peter mumbled.

“‘Course,” Tony smiled. “FRI, lullaby protocol.”

A playlist consisting of songs that never failed to calm Peter filled the room softly.

The boy tried his best to fall asleep, but couldn’t keep his eyes shut. Both Tony and Steve were wondering if they should distract him somehow, but he didn’t seem to want to move from the bed, having made himself very comfortable.

“You good here? Or d’you wanna do something else?” Steve asked him quietly.

“Stay here,” Peter whispered without hesitation.

“Hungry? Thirsty?”

“No.” Peter huffed a breath out before speaking again. “You two can go to sleep, I don’t mind.”

“We’re gonna stay up with you. Not sleeping is my specialty,” Tony chuckled, earning a glare from Steve, but the rest of his face revealed that he was really just worried.

“You need to sleep, Dad,” Peter argued lazily, playing with the fabric of Tony’s t-shirt - well, actually, it was Steve’s. He’d gotten used to his husband stealing his clothes a long while ago, and he still adored it.

“I’m fine, Pete. Really, don’t worry.”

Peter didn’t believe him, but didn’t push it, instead turning his head to stare at the roof. It was barely audible, but both Steve and Tony had fond smiles on their faces as they listened to Peter humming to the song that was playing. He fiddled with his fingers, and when, in Steve’s opinion, he’d picked at the lunula on his right thumb for too long, he grabbed his son’s hand. He held it, lightly tracing the lines on his palm, the outline of the entire hand, and the small hairs on the back of it. After a while, Peter retracted his right hand, only to replace it with his left, finding it very soothing, and it put the softest look in Steve’s eyes.

────────

In the guest room, Ned had quickly calmed down, but the whole episode was, for them both, a grim reminder of the inescapable.

MJ had moved back to her bed, tucked under the covers. Ned had also gotten comfortable for the night, but none of them closed their eyes.

“This isn’t what it’s supposed to be like,” Ned whispered.

“It’s awful,” MJ said determinedly.

“I’ve known him for so long, I-”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Ned.” She let out a breath, turning to her side so she was facing him. “Can you sleep with music playing?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It helps me take my mind off things. Makes it easier to fall asleep.”

It was an effort to help Ned fall asleep, poorly disguised as something she needed herself. He saw right through it, but appreciated it, so didn’t call her out on it.

“Uh, FRIDAY?” MJ felt a little awkward whenever speaking to the AI, not sure where she should look.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Jones?”

She cringed at being called that. “Please call me MJ,” she sighed, having told FRIDAY to call her that multiple times. It never called Ned Mr. Leeds, so she was pretty sure it was either Peter or Tony messing with her, always changing it back to Ms. Jones. “Anyways, what I was gonna ask was if I put on a playlist on my phone, could you connect it to the speakers here? And put it on a low volume?”

“Of course, MJ. Just put on the playlist you want, and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” She opened Spotify, soon locating her favorite playlist for sleeping. Upon pressing play, the sound only streamed from her phone for a couple of seconds before it was connected to the speakers around the room - which, for the record, seemed to be built into the walls and roof or something, because she couldn’t spot a single one of them. And she was certain there were several, seeing as the music was coming from all sides.

“Feel free to adjust the volume. I guess just tell FRIDAY, and she’ll fix it?” MJ mumbled, feeling her eyes starting to droop.

“It’s good,” Ned assured her. He paused. “You’re a great friend.”

“So are you,” she responded immediately. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, yeah, and what’s that? That you don’t care?” he chuckled.

“Bingo. Go to sleep.”

“You too. Good night.”

“Night, Ned.”

────────

Steve deemed eight thirty in the morning an appropriate time to head over to the medical wing to see if he could get some sleeping medication for son. He told FRIDAY to alert Peter’s primary chemo doctor, Anne Reynolds, that he’d be there in a few minutes.

Meanwhile, Tony brought Peter to the kitchen, dishing up pancakes for all five of them, taking a sip of his coffee at least twice every minute. He was very relieved that there was something else than soggy corn flakes he could feed his son - it wasn’t very nutritious. Pancakes weren’t exactly healthy, but they were certainly much better.

Leaning his head on his hand, Peter positively looked a mess. Bags under his eyes prominent, combined with his already emaciated face, he was the poster child of absolutely, completely, thoroughly worn out. Tony felt bad for him, but tried not to show it - it only made Peter feel even worse.

“Could you go wake Ned and MJ up? Pancakes are done in, uh… I’m guessing fifteen minutes,” Tony asked the boy who perked up a little at the mention of his friends.

“Sure, Dad.”

He stretched out his body, both to try and get rid of the aching and to wake himself up - none successful, for the record. Approaching the bedroom door, Peter felt a little awkward. Was he just going to walk in there as if everything were normal? As if he didn’t run out of there in hysterics just hours earlier.

Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair to try and calm down, but soon regretted it. “Ah, shit,” he muttered to himself when he looked at the too many strands of hair in his hand. His pulse quickened, but he shook his hand, getting rid of the hair before he could work himself up over it.

The slow, heavy breathing he could hear when he opened the door let him know both Ned and MJ were still asleep. There was music playing softly from the speakers.

“FRI, lights at forty percent,” Peter ordered quietly, aiming for a gentle start of the day for his friends, “and turn the music up a little.”

It was enough for MJ, who soon stirred, blinking her eyes tiredly. She looked around the room before her eyes landed on Peter who was kind of awkwardly just standing by the door. “Morning,” she yawned. As if everything were normal. Peter smiled at her.

“Sleep well?” he asked her.

“‘Course I did. If I could steal this bed, I would.”

“Good.” Peter shifted his weight between his feet, and walked to the bed he’d been sharing with Ned, sitting down. “Ned,” he tried, poking his shoulder.

“Hey, Ned.” A little louder, this time with a shove. An unintelligible string of words left the boy’s mouth, drawing a small laugh out of Peter. Ned taking a few seconds to realize he was awake never failed to amuse him.

“Breakfast soon. Dad’s making pancakes,” Peter said, addressing both of them. MJ got out of bed, sending him a thumbs up before disappearing into the bathroom.

“P’ncakes?” Ned mumbled, cracking one eye open at a time.

“Yeah, Ned, pancakes,” Peter chuckled.

“Is Steve cooking?”

“No, Dad is today. Why?” Peter eyed his friend, entertained at how groggy he still was.

“Steve’s cooking’s better,” he groaned, making Peter let out a loud, genuine laugh.

“I know, but I think Dad can handle pancakes. You’ll live,” Peter chortled with a shove to Ned’s shoulder to help him wake up.

“What time is it?” he yawned, moving to lean against the headboard, halfway sitting up.

“Almost nine. I know it’s kinda early, but you guys are heading back home today so I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could,” Peter explained, playing with his fingers.

“I don’t mind at all,” Ned assured him when he noticed the nervous action. “You know I’m tired no matter when you wake me up,” he grinned, playfully bumping Peter’s shoulder with his own.

“Yeah,” Peter laughed, looking up when he heard MJ coming back into the room.

“You losers ready for breakfast?” she asked casually, a barely detectable fondness in the back of her voice, as she stood at the end of the bed.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ned saluted, ready for the pillow chucked in the general direction of his head, ducking before getting out of bed.

The three teens piled into the kitchen just a few seconds after Steve had gotten back. He sent a smile their way before it turned into a smirk as he turned to address his husband.

“I see you’ve managed not setting off the fire alarm with your pancakes,” he teased, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh my god, Steve, that was one time,” Tony protested in a way that made it very clear that this was something Steve often brought up for his own amusement.

“That actually happened?” Ned asked, grinning hopefully.

“It’s true, it woke everyone here up at like seven in the morning. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Auntie Nat scolding Dad while half asleep,” Peter recounted, smug smile plastered on his face.

“I’d pay to see that,” MJ shrugged.

“No need! FRIDAY, can you play-”

“Nope! Not happening, kiddo. FRI, don’t play a damn thing, thank you very much,” Tony interrupted his son, instead shifting everyone’s focus over to the pancakes that he was suddenly busy piling onto their plates. “Brat,” he fondly mumbled when he was standing behind Peter, and planted a kiss on the top of his head. The boy laughed, and thanked him oh-so-politely for the food.

────────

“You wanna watch Star Trek?” MJ suggested, none of them able to settle on how they were going to spend the few hours left before she and Ned had to head back home.

“MJ, stop that, you hate Star Trek,” Peter sighed, slightly annoyed at the fact that she was being too nice. All weekend, she’d been up for whatever Peter wanted, and her teasing was down to an all time low.

“No, I don’t,” she claimed.

“Yes, you do. You always complain when we make you watch it.”

“Well, maybe I have a newfound fondness for it.”

“You don’t,” Peter chuckled, his smile not reaching his eyes.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you, MJ!” Peter snapped, taking both her and Ned by surprise. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Sorry, it’s just… I get that you’re trying to be nice to me because I- because I’m sick. And that’s… I really appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, but… I just wanna feel normal. Just for a little bit. I’m sorry, I sound like an asshole, I know-”

“You don’t, Peter. I’m sorry.” She looked down at her hands that were folded in her lap. “We… we get it. Right, Ned?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Sorry, Peter.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. You guys are the best.”

The three of them went quiet, none of them really knowing what to say. They were in the living room, gathered on the couch, and tired of playing Mario Kart. Eyes cast downwards, it was Ned who broke the borderline awkward silence.

“How are you feeli- I mean, what… what’s it… like?” he asked, sounding very uncertain, but also like the question had been burning at the back of his throat for weeks.

“Ned,” MJ hissed. Peter just sent her a look to let her know it was okay.

“I’m… Do you really wanna know?” Peter asked, giving his best friend an opportunity to take back his question.

“Yeah.” He sounded sure.

“Okay. Uhm, I’m tired? A few days before you got here I could barely walk on my own. I was throwing up a lot, had a migraine, and my bones and muscles ache all the time. Right now I think I’m as good as I’m gonna get, and then it’s another round of chemo, and I’ll be back to feeling like crap times a hundred,” Peter explained with a strange smile on his face, almost flinching at how harsh the word chemo sounded and felt. “Ten out of ten would not recommend,” he added with a small laugh.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” MJ frowned, shaking her head.

“But it is. There’s nothing we can do about it, so… let’s just make the best out of it, okay?” Peter asked hopefully.

“I speak fluent Peter, and that right there means let’s just ignore this whole thing and pretend it’s not happening,” Ned smiled sadly. Peter met his eyes with his own tired, somber ones, but he was smiling too. A bittersweet feeling filled the three friends up to the brim, and MJ had to blink away a couple of tears.

Hesitating for half a second, Ned reached out for Peter, and pulled him in for a tight hug. “It’s okay, Ned,” Peter whispered, hugging him back as firmly as he could.

“It’s not, but that’s okay,” Ned mumbled, held on for a few more seconds before leaning back, hastily wiping away a few tears that were running down his face. Peter pretended not to notice, apparently very occupied with the loose thread on the side of sweatpants.

“What about…” MJ smirked, unlocking her phone, “a few rounds of guess the soundtrack?” She searched Spotify for a good soundtrack playlist, receiving optimistic nods from the two boys. It was a successful attempt at making the next couple of hours blithe ones. The game had become a thing of theirs at about three in the morning during a sleepover almost a year ago.

It was a simple source of hours of fun, and before they knew it, Tony plopped down in one of the lounge chairs. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. That’s easy, that’s The Shining,” he said, quickly realizing what game the kids were playing, and recognizing the movie’s main title.

“That is correct, Stark,” MJ, game master, announced, “one point for you. Nineteen more to pass Peter and get second place. Twenty four if you wanna be the golden boy.”

“As fun as that sounds, Jones, I’m actually just here to be the bearer of bad news. Thirty minutes till departure. Steve’s made some snacks for you to have before you leave, so go ahead and pack your bags, and get to the kitchen before I eat it all.” Playful look on his face, Tony lifted his hands to slap them down on the armrests, pushing himself back up. “Chop chop!” he jokingly called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

“Speaking of my last name - who’s fucking with FRIDAY’s code to get her to call me Ms. Jones every damn time I speak with her?” MJ demanded, standing up, and looked accusingly at Peter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter insisted very innocently. “Let’s go, I’ll help you guys pack your… stuff.”

“Jeez, Pete, you couldn’t lie to save your life,” Ned snorted as they walked towards the guest room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about either,” Peter claimed, but couldn’t even keep a straight face.

“Dork,” MJ poorly hid with a cough.

Bags were packed, snacks were consumed, hugs were given out in bountiful supply, and soon it was considerably quieter than it had been for the past couple of days. The boy’s shoulders slumped a little as if the air went out of him. While he hadn’t tried to hide from his friends that he was sick, he’d, without a doubt, worked hard to appear less worn out than he actually was.

“Got some pills from the doctor earlier. She said you’d have to wait until tonight to take them so you wouldn’t mess up your sleeping too bad,” Steve said when the three of them were alone.

“Sounds good,” Peter commented, failing to hide how relieved the news made him. He was so tired; the thought of falling asleep nearly euphoric to him. It was still a few hours until he could do so, but at least he had something to look forward to.

In an effort to make time pass, he plopped down on the couch, putting on The Great British Bake Off - it was surprisingly addictive. He lost count of how many episodes he watched, but when Happy joined him after driving all the way to Queens and back, he realized it had been more than just a few.

Peter being Peter, he let his head rest on Happy’s shoulder who he knew didn’t mind at all, but would deny it if asked; even though everyone had a soft spot for the boy.

“Season seven again?” he asked, just as obsessed with the show as Peter. It had kind of become their thing.

“It’s the best one,” Peter murmured, his attention on the screen.

“Hmm, you’re not wrong,” Happy hummed, lifting his arm to put it around Peter to let him cuddle up to him just like he’d done ever since he was little. It was one of Happy’s favorite things. He’d deny that too.

While it may not seem obvious, Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry critiquing desserts was actually very soothing. Especially combined with Happy’s calm breathing. So soothing, in fact, that it had Peter’s eyes drooping. Before he even noticed it was happening, he’d fallen asleep. Nearly forty hours of no sleep was his body’s limit, apparently, because he was out like a light.

“I’ve always wanted to taste that mousse cake. Maybe if you ask Steve with those puppy eyes of yours…” Happy trailed off when he looked down to discover that Peter had fallen drifted off. He let out a relieved sigh - Tony had worriedly told him about the boy not being able to sleep.

The longer he looked at Peter, the more it hurt. He’d tried his best not to think about it, but that wasn’t easy when he had him sleeping in his arms. Up until that moment, he’d thought maintaining a certain distance was the best. That it would hurt less. He wanted to yell at himself for thinking such a thing. His time with Peter was running out, just like everyone else’s, and it became so obvious that doing anything other than spending as much as possible of it with him was foolish. Yes, it hurt to see him so up close, to see how the cancer was eating him up, but it hurt more to avoid him.

“Pete, you-”

“Shh!” Happy stopped Tony. “He’s asleep.”

“Wha- he is?”

He nodded. “Dozed off a few minutes ago.”

“Good. That’s… very good,” Tony sighed, sitting down in the same lounge chair as earlier, this time making sure to be quiet. His expression as he watched his son was a blend of many emotions; most prominent were love and melancholy. He looked so small, like he should be covered by the red blanket he was so attached to as a kid.

Tony let out a heavy breath, running a hand over his face. “One sec,” he mumbled and got back up, walking to the kitchen where Steve was making some food for Peter to have before going to sleep. “Honey,” he breathed out, and gestured for him to follow him, leading the way back to the living room.

The sight of a sleeping Peter put a soft look on Steve’s face. “I’ll take him to bed,” he whispered, kissed Tony’s temple and walked over to the couch. Just like he’d done so many times before, he gently lifted his son, pausing a little to make sure he was still asleep before walking steadily to his room.

Having tucked him in, he stood watching him until he remembered Peter hadn’t had his pills so they’d have to wake him back up. “Damn it,” he muttered, walking out of the room silently, and made the decision to let him sleep for at least a couple of hours.

“Thank god he’s finally asleep,” Tony said when Steve sat down in the lounge chair next to him.

“We’ll have to wake him back up,” Steve groaned, rubbing at his temple with his index and middle finger.

“What for?” Happy asked from the couch.

“Pills,” Tony realized, letting his head drop back. “Let’s at least give him a couple hours just in case. It’s still early.”

“‘Course,” Steve said, reaching a hand out towards Tony, who took hold of it with his own slightly unsteady one.

Happy stood up, shoving his hands in his pocket. He didn’t necessarily feel like he was intruding, but he’d been around the pair enough to know when they needed to be alone, even though they didn’t always know that themselves. “Well, I think I’m gonna say good night now. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Happy. Have a good night,” Steve smiled, waving at him as he walked away from them. “You’re tired,” he sighed when it was just the two of them.

Tony let out a chuckle. “So are you, honey.” His thumb was drawing small circles on the back of Steve’s hand. “We’ll sleep later when Peter’s had his pills.”

“You can take a nap if you want. I’ll be here. You’ve been awake almost as long as Peter.”

“So have you,” Tony smirked.

“Not the point, babe.”

“If anyone should take a nap, it’s you. I’m fine with no sleep.”

“As a witness, I beg to differ. It wears you down, Tony. I know you can’t tell, but I can.” He lifted Tony’s hand, pressing light kisses to his knuckles.

“I’m fine.” Tony’s eyes were closed, his full attention on Steve now fiddling with his hand, drawing figures and touching it so gingerly it almost gave him goosebumps.

“You always are.”

Turns out Tony was way more tired than he’d ever own up to. It only took five minutes of Steve gently caressing his hand and lower arm for him to doze off. It didn’t come as a surprise, and he was happy to just sit there with him. In the past year, Tony’s insomnia had been making less appearances. It was kind of a big deal. Steve was beyond relieved at how often they went to sleep together instead of Tony coming to bed in the early morning hours or not at all. It would still hit him hard from time to time, but he was better than he’d been in a long time. Better than Steve had ever seen him.

When it looked like Tony was in quite a deep sleep, Steve decided that Peter wouldn’t be the only one he carried to bed that night. Still holding Tony’s hand, he stood up to place it in his lap instead of just letting it dangle over the side of the chair.

He wiggled one arm behind the smaller man’s shoulder, and placed the other one under his knees. Making sure he had a good grip, he slowly lifted him up. The feeling of Tony in his arms warmed his heart, putting a smile on his face that stayed there all the way to their bedroom where he put him down as gently as he could. He removed his husband’s shoes and jeans before tucking him in. Then a forehead kiss, and he left the room to go wake their son up.

On the way, he grabbed the pills from the kitchen, along with a large glass of water. He had FRIDAY turn on the lights at forty percent, and sat on the bed. What he did next was pure habit, and he was so relieved Peter was still asleep. He’d ran his fingers through his hair, and stared at the clump that’d come out. Quickly, he discarded of it in the trash can next to Peter’s nightstand, opting for running his hand up and down his back instead, and cleared his throat.

“Hey, Pete. You gotta wake up,” he spoke at a high enough volume for it to register with the sleeping boy. The only reaction he got was a barely audible groan accompanied by him burying his face into his pillow.

“Just for a couple minutes, bud,” Steve chuckled. “You gotta take your pills.” Another groan. “I know, I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“I’m tired,” Peter mumbled, keeping his eyes shut.

“It’s okay, you can go back to sleep in a minute.”

“What if I can’t?” he whined.

“You can. I’ve got sleeping pills for you too. Now let me see those eyes, Petey-pie.”

He turned so he was facing him, and opened his eyes slowly, complying when Steve guided him to sit up. One by one, he swallowed the pills, nodding when Steve asked if he wanted a sleeping pill.

“You good?” Steve asked, watching as his son got comfortable again.

“Mhm,” he confirmed.

“Okay, sweetie. Go back to sleep.”

“And starve,” Peter mumbled instinctively. Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Are you hungry? I could get you some food if-”

“No, Pops,” Peter laughed, “it’s a vine.”

“Oh. Right,” Steve chuckled. “Well, good night, sweetie. Love you” He stood up.

“Night, Pops, love you too” Peter yawned.

“If you need anything-”

“I know,” Peter smiled lazily, one eye open to look at Steve who was standing by the door. He shook his head fondly, his smile not leaving his face until he fell asleep next to his husband.

────────

“You sure you want this?” Tony asked, looking at Peter through the mirror.

“Mhm,” Peter nodded, determined, shifting his eyes from Tony to Steve, who was holding the hair clippers. When he turned it on, Peter flinched a little.

“It’s okay, we can wait,” Steve assured him, looking concerned.

“N-no. I wanna do this now. Feeling my hair fall out is worse.”

“Okay, if you’re sure, sweetie,” Tony smiled, Peter giving a tiny one back.

When the clippers were close to his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, but stood still. It wasn’t too bad at the back of his neck; he’d had tons of haircuts where they used clippers in that area. What did feel weird, though, was when he was nearing the top of his head. That was a new, not so nice experience.

“Doin’ alright?” Tony asked, watching Peter’s scrunched-up face. His own face expression was similar, not at all enjoying his son’s adorable curls fall to the floor. He’d really miss running his fingers through them. And miss how much Peter loved it.

“Mhm,” he confirmed. “Just wanna get it over with.”

Nothing more was said until the haircut was finished. Tony was biting the inside of his cheek, fighting back tears at the sight of his son who was now bald. It made everything more real. More looming.

“We’re done, Pete. Just gotta blow the stray hairs away,” Steve explained, getting the hair dryer. Peter’s eyes were still closed.

He opened them when the hair dryer had been turned off and he felt two kisses on his head. Fighting the urge to squirm away from the foreign feeling, he studied himself in the mirror.

I look so sick, he thought to himself. Without hair on his head, his face looked even more gaunt, and the way his clothes were hanging off his ever-thinning frame didn’t make it better at all. He couldn’t help it when his face scrunched back up again; this time in distaste for his own appearance.

“It suits you,” Tony commented. But he’d think Peter was the most adorable kid no matter what he looked like, so it didn’t really count. Same thing went for Steve who was nodding in agreement.

So Peter scoffed. “It doesn’t. I just look more sick.” He tore his eyes away from the mirror, exiting his bathroom in a rush. He didn’t want to look at himself any longer.

They followed him into his bedroom.

“I think you look great, Petey,” Steve attempted.

“Please don’t. I don’t wanna think about it. I, uh… I’m gonna take a nap.” He curled up in bed, pulling the covers over him.

“Okay, sweetie. We’ll wake you up for dinner,” Tony said, but got no answer. His back was facing them and he was clutching the covers so tightly.

First thing Tony did when they got out of the bedroom was finding Happy, ordering him to go out and buy beanies, baseball caps, bucket hats, you name it. Anything the kid might want to wear. He had a feeling he’d want something on his head, judging by the way he’d looked at himself in the mirror.

It didn’t matter what Steve and Tony thought. Peter really hated what he looked like. And while that hurt to think about, both dads were willing to do whatever it took to make him feel just a little bit better.

[sippin-on-red-wine]

What’s My Name Again? | An Intro

As soon as I was buckled into my airplane seat, I kicked off my boots and dug out my earbuds. I had always been a bit of a nervous flier - the upgraded first class ticket Brent had treated me to definitely helped, but nothing did the trick quite like music.

Brent. I could practically feel my eyes turn into little cartoon hearts. I couldn’t believe the day had finally come. I had spent the last four months selling all of my belongings in preparation for the move. Brent owned a home out here, and he had picked out a car for me already. What else did I need besides my clothes and personal items? It was actually quite a freeing experience, having my personal possessions dwindle down to nothing but a couple suitcases’ worth, plus my kit. I had a box or two of sentimental type stuff, but it was safe and sound in my parent’s basement.

Flicking through my Spotify app, I switched on my ‘Ben Sherman’ playlist. It was only fitting. In my heart of hearts, I had to admit - I was so FUCKING excited for the upcoming weekend. After Brent & I settled on a date for the move, he surprised me with tickets. “Your first weekend as a Colorado resident… gotta do it big.” he had said. I had seen Ed live a number of times, but never with floor seats before. I felt a little guilty that I was more excited for the concert than for actually moving in with my long distance boyfriend after a couple years of only seeing each other a handful of weekends per year. But, that goddamn ginger has that effect on people.

I hit shuffle and kicked my feet up, increasing the volume to a level that I’m sure was borderline damaging to my eardrums. I lost myself in the music – you know how sometimes when you listen to a song that you’ve heard a billion times, you suddenly really hear it? It was one of those moments, for sure. Shuffle was treating me well; playing all the best songs one right after another. I mean, I love ALL of Ed’s songs - but it can be kind of a buzzkill to go from ‘Galway Girl’ to ‘Supermarket Flowers’. Not today, satan.

I was in the total groove and time was flying. I was in full-on jam mode: foot tapping, shoulder rocking, eyes closed, humming along to the melody when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was suddenly VERY aware that I was, in fact, in a PUBLIC place.

Horrified, I pulled out my earbuds - music pouring out of them, I realized how loud I’d had my music up. I felt a flush of embarrassment spread across my cheeks as I swiveled my head toward whoever had tapped my shoulder politely.

I was prepared to apologize profusely when suddenly, the synapses in my brain fired back and forth to the ones in charge of my eyeballs and I realized I was staring into the face of ED SHEERAN.

EDWARD. CHRISTOPHER. SHEERAN.

No it can’t be him. Not real. What the hell, brain? But… wait…. His birthmark, the scar – and I KNOW those glasses.

“Hello. Mind if I have a sit here?” he gestured to the empty lounge seat next to me. I quickly snatched my phone off the cushion and watched in awe (and terror) as Ed Sheeran sat down next to me on the airplane.

I’m pretty sure all the blood drained from my face as I suddenly snapped back to reality, the sounds of Ed’s own voice crooning out of my earbuds. Oh fuck fuck fuck I cursed, silently, trying to close my Spotify app.

“I’m Ed.” he grinned at me.

Duh. Oh, crap. You should probably say something. Tell him your name.

Wait, what’s my name again?

“Becca.” I awkwardly flicked my wrist at a pathetic attempt at a wave. A wave. From 25 inches away. Idiot.

“I was admiring your jam session so I thought I’d come over and say hi.”

“Erm… That loud, eh?”

He giggled and nodded. Actually GIGGLED. It sounded like the heavens had opened up and that miraculous sound had filtered down and into my ears.

“Sorry bout that…” I muttered, sheepishly. “Guess it got away from me a bit, didn’t it.”

“Nah, it’s great. Made me smile to see someone enjoying my music, that’s all.”

“Wow, this is… just crazy. I have to say, I’m a huge fan.”

Every nerve ending in my body was singing. He was sat so casually next to me, just a normal guy wearing faded denim jeans and a deep red hoodie. Except he was Ed Fucking Sheeran.

“Are you flying in for the show on Friday?” His eyes flitted to my t-shirt because of course you’re wearing his merchandise.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, excitedly. “Shit, actually, no.”

His pretty blue eyes were sparkling with humor, the little lines at the corners of his eyes folding in as he smiled.

I searched for an explanation. “Sorry. Yes, I’ve got tickets to the show. But it isn’t the only reason I’m flying in.”

He adjusted, tucking a foot up beneath his butt and angling his body toward me. “Vacation?” he asked.

“Er, no actually - look, if you have to get back…” whyareyoutellinghimtogobeccayoudummy.

His hands sprung up, just as animated in real life as they were in the interviews I often watched on my laptop. “I’m good, actually - Stu is quite sick of me at the moment so I’m sure he’s enjoying a bit of peace. Unless you-”

I cut him off. “Oh, no, I, um, I’m free… obviously.” I snarked, twirling my earbuds around. “Actually, this plane ride is me officially moving to Colorado.”

“Oh, cool! Do you have family here? Sorry, I don’t mean to press. It’s just been a long, boring day of traveling.”

“You’re good, trust me…. No family, I’m actually moving here to be with my highschool sweetheart.”

Wow look at you holding an actual conversation. Keep breathing, Becca.

“No way. I love that.” His eyes lit up and it struck me that he, too, was rumored to be dating a girl from his childhood.

“Yeah! We were together in highschool and kind of went our separate ways afterwards. He moved out here for work. We connected again when he was home over Christmas a couple of years ago and we’ve been doing the long distance thing ever since.”

“Wow. And now you’re moving out here?”

“That’s the plan. Sold my car, quit my job. Got rid of nearly everything I own. Once we touch down I’ll be a Colorado resident.”

“Bit scary, innit?”

“Yes - it really is. But it’s worth it. The long distance thing….. Sucks. Erm, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

We kept at it for nearly the next hour, trading stories about the various coping methods one uses to survive a LDR. Talking to him was actually really… easy? When I didn’t focus on the part where my favorite musician of all time was sitting next to me on the plane explaining how he facetimes his cats when he’s on the road?

This is a weird day.

The Pilot came on to announce that we would begin our descent, and Ed politely offered to snap a couple selfies before going back to his seat. He gave me an awkward chair-hug goodbye and told me to enjoy the show.

As soon as he was out of sight, my heartbeat resumed POUNDING in my chest. Did that just…? Holy shit.

I switched my cell off of “Airplane Mode” as soon as we hit the runway, and had a string of texts pour in from Brent.

*I’m here! Can’t wait for you to get off that plane baby! *HOW MANY MORE MINUTES *Can’t believe I get to wake up with you tomorrow… and the day after that… and the day after that….

As if I weren’t on Cloud 9 already from my Ed Sheeran Encounter, seeing those texts finally made it real for me. I get Brent. Every day. No more goodbyes. No more lonely nights.

Our area was dismissed from the plane first, and I practically sprinted out to the terminal, spotting my handsome boyfriend right away. He was tall, towering over me by at least a foot. He was looking around anxiously; he hadn’t spotted me yet. I took off into a jog toward him and I swear, the way his face lit up when he finally saw me? I was honestly just overcome. I ran and jumped up into his arms, his strong hold pulling me into his body. We just held each other so tight, him rocking me back and forth and squeezing me until hot tears spilled out from beneath my eyelids.

I lost myself in his scent, the solid feel of his body against mine. I don’t know how long he held me like that, but the buzz and chaos of the airport terminal slowly phased back in, for both of us, and he set me down on the ground in front of him.

“Becca!” A distinctly British voice rang out from somewhere behind me.

“Brent - ohmygod you wouldn’t believe –”

But Ed was there, extending a hand out to Brent. “Hey, mate, I’m Ed. You’re a lucky man, you know.”

I guess we really were a compatible match because Brent looked just as dumbfounded as I had felt on the plane.

“Trust me, I am very well aware.” He replied, kissing the top of my head - one arm wrapped snugly ‘round my back.

Ed turned to look at me. “Look, I don’t normally do this, but… I want to give you two meet & greet passes for the show on Friday.”

Okay. Back to dumbfounded.

“Ed, that’s so nice of you to offer but -”

“Please take them. It’s just – I know where you’ve been. And it’s nice to see someone getting their happy ending. I’ve got to dash but I’ll have Stuart put them underyour name at will call, okay?”

“T-thank you!”

“It’s my pleasure, really. See you later then!” and he was gone with a wave.

Well… surprise!

[masieofthevalley]

All I Really Want is You (Spideypool) - Chapter Ten

Find the Masterlist for this fic here! Read this fic on AO3! Check out my Ko-Fi if you would like a commission!

Summary: “Who are you, the big bad wolf?” She snarked. She mentally congratulated herself that her voice hadn’t betrayed the fluttering in her gut.

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?”

Peter Parker is an exhausted and overworked student in her senior year of college. Sleep-deprived and running on coffee and fumes, Peter really just wants to get through this semester. On a rare coffee run to ensure that she doesn't fall asleep on patrol or in her textbooks again, she quite literally stumbles upon Deadpool. Try as she might, she just can't stay away from him, and along the way, she finds herself in the middle of a nefarious plot between HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D.

A/N: Hello, everyone! Today’s chapter is Chapter Ten: This Side of Paradise. This chapter is named after the song This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory. 

As always, there is a playlist for this fic, and you can find it on YouTube and Spotify. Spotify won’t play in order unless you have Spotify Premium. You don’t need to listen to it in order, but each chapter has a specific song associated with it. There is also a song associated with the entire fic, which is She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer.

If you liked this chapter, like, share, and reblog, and please leave comments! They make my day, and I will gladly respond. You can also head over to my AO3 and comment there, and I will also respond there! Enjoy!

Chapter Ten: This Side of Paradise

Chapter Summary: Peter receives her first text from Wade, and Spider-Woman and Deadpool work together to stop a group of bullies. 

It didn’t take Peter long to wake up Sunday afternoon. She’d gotten plenty of sleep the night before, and for the first time in a long time, she felt rested when she opened her eyes. She still wasn’t ready to leave the warmth of her bed though, so she just grabbed her phone off the nightstand and huddled up beneath the blankets.

As she opened up her phone to respond to one of MJ’s texts, she vaguely remembered her burner phone going off as she climbed into bed last night. She stuck her arm out of her blankets and blindly reached around for her other phone. After searching for a few seconds, she found it and dragged that beneath her blankets as well. She felt very content as she opened up her burner phone, flipping through it to get to her messages. She was content, and yet, she felt like something was missing. Not something, but someone . Someone that was tall and huge and usually dressed in a black and red suit and who Peter just knew would fit cuddled up against her back.

But Peter was alone in her bed, and that was very unlikely to change in the near future. So to distract herself from the slow creeping of loneliness, she pulled up her messages on her phone.

She expected the text she had gotten the night before to be from Natasha. She had talked with her yesterday, after all, and it was possible that the spy wanted an update on Peter’s situation with Wade. But, it wasn’t from Natasha.

It was from Wade.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peter whispered, wiping the last dregs of sleep from her eyes. Her heart started to race, and she wished that her eyesight would stop being so blurry. It had been years since she had last needed glasses, thanks to the spider that so kindly bit her, but that never stopped the blurriness that came from sleep.

She couldn’t get her heart to stop beating so fast, and the anxiety in her veins that accompanied her rapid heart rate was almost like a distant, familiar friend. She didn’t feel like she was having a panic attack; she could still breathe normally, and her senses weren’t acting up. Maybe it was a stroke? Was she having a stroke? Surely, she was too young to have a stroke, right?

“Calm the fuck down,” Peter hissed at herself, blinking rapidly as her sight finally adjusted. Fuck, fuck, okay.

Peter clicked on the new text, and the anxiety stopped just as quickly as it had started.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she whispered in disbelief, her eyes scanning over the message again.

this is ur daily msg from ur friendly neighborhood deadpool, here 2 tell u 2 get ur perfect ass in bed! reminder: it is recommended that cute lil bun-buns (like urself) get 7-9 hours of sleep. :)

Peter didn’t know what she was expecting from Wade’s text, but that certainly wasn’t it. Before she could stop herself, her fingers were flying across the keyboard, her thumb tapping “send” within a matter of seconds. Realizing what she had done, Peter blinked, groaned, and flopped back on her back. She really wished that life had an undo button.

And this is your daily reminder from your friendly neighborhood Peter, here to tell you that I can function plenty on limited sleep. It is recommended that friendly neighborhood Wade’s (like yourself) go to sleep instead of bothering friendly neighborhood Peter’s.

She had never been good at texting or flirting, but as she reread her message for the third time, she wondered when she had gotten so bad at it. Peter shrieked as her burner phone buzzed in her hands. She dropped it in her pile of covers, and she spent a good fifteen seconds trying to fish it from the depths of her blankets. Prize in hand, Peter leaned against the headboard, swiping to open Wade’s newest message.

some1 is grumpy, did u not listen to ur friendly neighborhood dp and get enough sleep????

Peter just rolled her eyes and fired back with two words.

Bite. Me.

Much to Peter’s surprise - because for some reason, she was still surprised every time Wade so much as looked at her in a flirty way, let alone all of the shit that he actually said - Wade’s reaction was just risque as it had been the night before when Peter had said those exact same words.

i’d be careful if i were u lil girl

I’m not scared of you.

no, ur not. but u might be scared of what i’ll do to u. isn’t that right, peter?

Peter’s world was on fire. Wade’s texting shorthand had not done anything to take away from the heat of his words. A deep growl rang in her ears as she remembered how Wade had sounded yesterday when she had told him her real name. Arousal settled low in her gut, slowly warming her from the inside out. She shifted her legs on the bed, a nearly-silent whine escaping her throat as the seam of her shorts rubbed against her core.

all jokes aside bambie u should sleep more. sleep = good 4 u.

And just like that, the heat was gone from their conversation. Wade was giving Peter whiplash; one minute he was joking, the next he was turning her on like there was no tomorrow, and then he was back to joking around again. She couldn’t figure him out.  

She continued their friendly banter for a few more minutes before getting up and moving around her bedroom. She had finished all of her assignments the day before, but she needed to study for tests that were coming up in nearly all of her classes. Not to mention that she wanted to go patrolling again tonight; she had liked her longer patrol yesterday, and she was eager to do it again.

Peter kept her conversation with Wade steady throughout the rest of the day. She managed to resist the urge to immediately text him back every time her phone vibrated, but only barely. She had to give herself scheduled breaks in her studying to check her phone and respond accordingly. When late afternoon came, she switched gears from studying to trying to research more into HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D., but she was so distracted by Wade that she didn’t get any productive work done. She did get to see some pretty cute dogs just chilling in Central Park, though, so she didn’t think it was a huge waste of time.

At one point in the day, Wade’s comments turned more sentimental, immediately drawing Peter’s interest and suspicion.

u seem so lonely. r u lonely?????

What?

if ur lonely, cum b lonely w/me ;)

He was such a romantic.

Eventually, 8:00 PM rolled around, and Peter reluctantly put her phone away in favor of pulling on her suit. She tucked her phone into the pocket she’d once designed for that exact purpose, and then she was climbing out of her window and into the night.

Peter’s phone buzzed in her pocket as she swung across town, but she ignored it, relishing the feeling of the cold New York air against her skin. She had switched out her usual suit a few days ago for the insulated one that she only wore during the winter. It trapped her body heat inside of it, ensuring she didn’t freeze during New York’s brutal winters.

Peter swung closer to the ground, throwing webs at streetlamps so she didn’t end up splattered in a puddle of Peter. She hadn’t been out long, but already, her spidey-senses were alerting her of some sort of danger in the nearby vicinity. The prickling on the back of her neck became more intense as she rounded the corner, and she landed on the side of a building before crawling into an alleyway.

In the alley were three big, buff dudes surrounding a very small, lanky boy. He couldn’t have been older than 13, and the other guys were clearly in their early 20’s. The boy was shaking, and Peter could see the rips in his clothing. She glared at the sight; if there was something that she never tolerated, it was bullies.

“I-I told you! I can get it next week!” the boy protested, holding his hands up in front of his face. One of the goons grabbed onto his wrists and yanked them down; it was clearly painful judging by the boy’s shriek. Peter tensed her muscles, ready to jump into the middle of whatever was going on, but a voice coming from the mouth of the alley startled her. The fuck?

“Now, now, now, what do we have going on here? Some sort of tussle?” the newcomer drawled. Peter stifled her groan, as she realized without looking that it was Wade. She should have known that it was him from the fact that he had - once again - foiled her spidey-sense. And the fact that he said the word “tussle.” Nobody said tussle anymore.

“Fuck off,” one of the goons, the one holding onto the boy’s wrists, called before turning back to the boy.

“No can do, Sweetheart,” Wade crooned, walking closer. Peter bristled at Wade’s use of the pet-name, though she had no reason to. As Wade walked by her, he swung something between his palms, and Peter recognized it as a metal bat. His katanas were still strapped to his back, and all of his guns seemed to be in place. Strange.

“See, three against one is not fair at all,” Wade continued, shaking his head as he stopped just a few feet away from the group. A grin stretched over his mask. “It makes me think that you guys are bullying this poor little guy here, and I really fucking hate bullies.”

“So do I,” Peter announced, her voice coming out more higher-pitched than normal as she dropped to the ground. Wade didn’t turn around, but she heard a small squeal coming from his direction. She blushed and smirked to herself.

“Crush the bug, I’ll take care of this fucker,” Head-Goon ordered, shoving the boy harshly. He hit the wall and fell with a crunch that made Peter see red.

“I’m an arachnid,” she snarled before kicking him in the face. Deadpool whooped, and as she spun to grab one of the other goons, she saw him swing his bat at the third goon. It connected with a sound that Peter didn’t even know how to describe, and the other man collapsed.

“No killing!” Peter hastily objected, growling under her breath and rolling her eyes as Wade let out a high-pitched whine. She was so distracted by Wade that her next punch was grabbed out of the air by the goon she was currently fighting.

“Now where are your manners?” she snarked, dropping to the ground and sweeping her leg out in a move that Nat had shown her a few months ago. She knocked his legs out from underneath him. “You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?”

Peter webbed him up against the wall with the first goon, and she turned to make sure that Wade had the last one under control. She was breathless as she watched him pin the bully to the wall, growling harsh and vulgar insults in his ear as the other man cried out in pain. The warmth from earlier had returned to Peter’s gut, and she quickly looked away, her eyes searching for the kid from earlier as she desperately tried to think about anything but Wade.

Peter slowly walked over to the still shaking boy, hands held up in front of her so that he knew that he was in no danger. The last thing that she wanted was for him to bolt.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her eyes scanning over the red, angry handprints on his skin. She winced; they were going to leave bruises.

“Yeah, m’fine,” the boy said, looking at something behind her with apprehension. She heard a thud coming from that direction, and she knew that Wade had finally ended his little battle.

“Do you have somewhere to go, kid? Somewhere we could walk you to?” Peter asked gently, keeping her distance from him. She didn’t want to seem threatening and in his personal space.

“I was just on my way home,” the kid replied, his voice hardening as he talked. “I can get there just fine on my own.”

“While we don’t doubt that, Spidey here does have a duty to personally make sure that everyone gets home safe and sound,” Wade chimed in, suddenly right next to Peter. Though they weren’t touching, she could feel the heat that his body was giving off. It was nice, and Peter had to fight every instinct in her body to remain standing up straight and not curl into his side.

“What he said,” Peter finally managed to say, wincing when her voice cracked. A smirk appeared on Wade’s mask, and she just knew that he was preening beneath it.

It took Peter a few seconds to shake herself from her embarrassment, and when she rejoined reality, she noticed that the boy and Wade appeared to be locked in a staring contest. Wade’s mask should not have been able to blink, but it did, and he immediately started pouting while simultaneously yelling that it wasn’t fair or cool to be beaten by a teenager.

“Deadpool, cut it out!” Peter snapped, and immediately, Wade straightened. Peter raised an eyebrow in surprise. Interesting .

“C’mon, let’s get you home, kid.”

The kid’s apartment turned out to only be a few blocks away, but Wade made the five-minute trip seem like an eternity. Peter called the cops while they walked, though neither the kid nor Wade seemed to notice. Wade never shut up, once. He talked endlessly about tv shows and shit he’d seen online, and at one point, the kid made a comment in regards to a cooking show that Wade was rambling on about, and Wade took it and ran with it. He talked about cooking shows that didn’t even sound real . Peter mostly just tried to shut both of them out, and she was very grateful when they reached the kid’s apartment. After he went inside and she heard him open his apartment door, Peter turned to scale the building. Before she could leave, Wade’s hand clamped down on her forearm, large and warm - there was a dick joke in there somewhere - and unyielding. Peter managed to hold in the “Yeep!” noise building in her throat, but it took a lot of effort.

“Hey, Spidey! Thanks for helping me out tonight! That was fun, we should do it again!” Wade exclaimed, letting go of her arm once he had her attention. She swiveled in place and stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised an eyebrow under her mask.

“One, you helped me out, I was already there when you showed up, and I had everything under control,” Peter said, her voice somehow steady as she kept up her false bravado. “Two, absolutely under no circumstances are we going to do this again. I work alone, and I don’t need distractions.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Wade pouted, his stance matching hers as he crossed his arms over his chest. Even stomping his feet and slouching a good foot, he was still more intimidating than Peter. It was just offensive.  

“I can help, I promise!” The eyes on Wade’s mask got much larger as he continued to beg. Peter’s resolve was cracking fast. “I’ll be a good little Dobby, no killing, only maiming or a little bit of serious injury!”

Peter shook her head and spun around. Before Wade could grab onto her again, she shot a web at the building to her left and pulled herself onto the side of it. She scaled the building in a matter of seconds, and when she looked back down, Wade was no longer pouting. Instead, his head was tilted to the side as he looked up at her in what she thought was awe.

“Dat ass just keeps getting better, Spidey!” Wade called up, cupping his hands in front of his mouth even though he clearly didn’t need to. Christ, she wasn’t even that far up, just a few stories. It was like he lived to embarrass her.

“Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me!” Wade shouted as Peter took a running start and jumped off the building. She sighed as she swung away, though a smile had already begun to worm its way onto her face.

Peter spent the next few hours patrolling on the other side of town, trying to stay clear of Wade. She was distracted the entire time, especially when her burner phone buzzed again. She called it quits just after 1, and she would never admit to the fact that she swung home twice as fast as usual.

When she climbed in her window, the first thing she did was yank off her mask and collapse on her bed. She whipped out her burner phone, her thumbs gliding across the screen as she unlocked it. The first message from Wade was a picture of a dachshund in Central Park. It was followed up by a picture of another dachshund, though this time, the dog was in a hot dog costume. It was the greatest thing ever.

There was a string of actual texts after the two pictures.

u no like weenie dogs???? tht is a war crime, bby-girl

or mayb u fell asleep like a good bun-bun???

tis late after all

k i’ll see u in ur dreams then bambi

sweet dreams sweetheart. catch those z’s 4 me

Peter rolled her eyes as she reread through the messages again. The pet names sent warmth through her chest, and her nerves felt jittery, like she was on some sort of sugar high. She closed her phone without responding to Wade, knowing that the man was probably still awake, and if she texted him, he’d only reprimand her for not sleeping. The thought of Wade scolding her wasn’t as disenchanting as it should have been. Her fingers itched to send a taunting message to Wade, just to see what, exactly, he would do to her. Hastily, Peter tossed her phone onto the other side of the bed so she couldn't do anything rash.

Peter stripped off her suit with a groan. She shut her window before moving to the bathroom. It seemed that a cold shower was in order.

[voodoochili]

My Favorite Songs of 2019

2019 was a fantastic year for music, but then again every year is. We as listeners have been blessed with abundance, and tasked with the delightful work of sifting through freshwater to find gold. This year, the most reliably golden genres were West African pop and West Coast Rap. Go figure.

The following represents my favorite 100 songs of the year. My only rules: 1) one song per lead artist (a lucky few earned multiple placements through the “featured artist” loophole).

Below are the write-ups (everyone’s favorite part) and stay tuned for my albums list, coming next week. Don’t forget to scroll all the way down for a Spotify playlist of the full list!

25. Desperate Journalist - “Satellite” - A sweeping, emotional rock song by a veteran rock band that can uncork one of these in their sleep. What makes this one special? The dynamic changes in the pre-chorus, the soaring guitar solo, and the passionate performance from lead singer Jo Bevan.

24. Jacques Greene - “Stars” - A brilliant bit of ambient techno that evokes the seminal electronic classic “Little Fluffy Clouds,” by The Orb. Instead of desert clouds, the anonymous female narrator describes a pastoral dream about the night skies of her youth. A transporting piece of music that should’ve been twice as long--five minutes is a cruelly short lifespan for this kind of bliss.

23. Rosalía - “Con Altura” ft. J Balvin - After the brilliant and singular El Mal Querer demonstrated Rosalía’s singular talent, “Con Altura” announced her intentions for worldwide domination. Created with frequent Rosalía collaborator El Guincho and chameleonic superstar J Balvin, “Con Altura” contains two of the year’s most insidious hooks--the soft-spoken call-and-response chorus, and Rosalía’s snake-charming bridge, the strongest indication yet that global stardom won’t stop the Catalonian chanteuse from pushing music forward.

22. Faye Webster - “Room Temperature” – 2019’s answer to “Swingin’ Party,” the Replacements’ great anthem for introverts, the introductory track on Webster’s Atlanta Millionaire’s Club album drifts along with Hawaiian-flavored pedal steel and a palpable sense of regret, as the 21-year-old singer longs to escape her perfectly comfortable surroundings. 21. Yhung T.O. - “Lately” ft. Lil Sheik - Easy, breezy, beautiful Bay Area rap, carried by T.O.’s dulcet tones and Sheik’s unrepentant dirtbaggery. The beat by Armani Depaul is one of my favorite retro-facing rap beats in a while, complete with smooth digital strings and security-pad synths. 20. The New Pornographers - “You’ll Need a New Backseat Driver” - Every five years or so, A.C. Newman writes a melody so strong that it requires Neko Case’s ultra-powerful alto to properly do it justice. This year, that song is “You’ll Need a New Backseat Driver,” which strives for, and nearly approaches, the heights of previous Pornos stunners like “The Laws Have Changed” and “Champions of Red Wine.” 

19. Floating Points - “LesAlpx” - Surrounded by outré synth experiments and beatless soundscapes on Crush, the first Floating Points album since 2015, “LesAlpx” is Sam Shepherd’s gift to club-goers everywhere. It’s a lean and mean house track, foregrounding propulsive percussion and rubbery bass, but it’s also deeply cerebral, creating a sense of foreboding urgency with detuned synths and ambient sine waves. 18. Daphni - “Sizzling” ft. Paradise - Built around a sample of Paradise’s seminal single “Sizzlin’ Hot,” Dan Snaith’s “Sizzling” extends the best moments of the classic post-disco smash to create five minutes of pure euphoria. The song starts in media res, with the groove in full form, and peaks at the end, when Snaith finally allows Paradise’s June Ventzos to finish her thought atop jubilant trumpets. 17. J Hus - “Must Be” - The latest genre-blending collaboration between J Hus and genius producer JAE5 proves that no man is safe from Hus’s dazzling logic, as he stacks syllogism after syllogism over an irresistible, afropop-flavored groove: “If it walk like an opp/Talk like an opp/Smell like an opp/Then it must be.” 16. Vampire Weekend - “Jerusalem, New York, Berlin” - Ever indulging his literary ambitions, Ezra Koenig uses the final track on Father Of The Bride to examine his Jewish identity, and to reckon with a world that hasn’t made sense since World War I. The prettiest melody on an album dripping with pretty melodies, “Jerusalem, New York, Berlin” packs enough symbolism into three minutes to inspire a seminar at Koenig’s Ivy League alma mater. Supported by yearning, spritely piano, Koenig ends the song with a poignant plea for peace, within reason: “So let them win the battle/But don't let them restart/That genocidal feeling/That beats in every heart.” 15. Great Grandpa - “Bloom” - The highlight from Great Grandpa’s outstanding Four Of Arrows album, “Bloom” is two songs in one. Part one brings punchy acoustic guitar that recalls ‘90s adult alternative (think Matchbox 20) and prime-era Saddle Creek (think Rilo Kiley) in equal measure. The second par tcompletes the song’s emotional arc, slowing down for a hypnotic wordless chorus, backed by weeping violins,. The key line here: “Please say I’m young enough to change.” 14. Spellling - “Real Fun” – Gleefully dramatic and overflowing with evil-sounding synths, “Real Fun” synthesizes Neneh Cherry, Bauhaus, and Cabaret into something that sounds like a villain’s theme in an animated musical that hasn’t been written yet.   13. Earthgang - “Proud Of U” ft. Young Thug – There’s no straight man to ground this ATL trio, as all three emcees lean into their vocal eccentricities while expressing their thanks to the women in their lives atop a mutating, guitar-driven beat. 12. Stella Donnelly - “Tricks” – In which the young heroine attempts to rid herself of a particularly toxic ex, who isn’t just misogynist, but a potential white supremacist sympathizer (her subject’s “Southern Cross Tattoo” is like an Aussie version of the MAGA hat). Heavy stuff, but Donnelly delivers everything with a grin, as if she’s wondering in real time why the hell she ever bothered with this jamoke. 11. Jenny Lewis - “On The Line” - The title track and emotional climax of Jenny Lewis’ latest album, “On The Line” boasts one of the finest vocal performances in her long career, sweetly assassinating her cheating ex-lover with a lilting melody and wry smile.

10. Lucinda Chua - “Whatever It Takes” – Lucinda Chua makes languid art pop in the tradition of fka twigs, but I prefer her understated longing to twigs herself. Her main instrument is the cello, but this track foregoes that sound almost entirely, opting instead for resonant Wurlitzer keys and multi-layered vocal harmonies, and shunting traditional song structure aside in favor of one enigmatic verse, repeating at odd intervals throughout: “Wait/The demons I carry are fake/I will fight our fire, too late.” 9. ShooterGang Kony - “Charlie” – The year’s most cold-blooded mob banger starts with the line “fuck the police and your mama if you ask me” and only escalates from there. Rhyming without affect over hiccuping bass, Kony mercilessly ethers cops, R&B singers, and women named Ashley before threatening to shoot you with a gun that sounds like Fozzy Bear. 8. KEY! - “Miami Too Much” – My favorite Atlanta rap song of the year gets its power from its hilariously specific central conceit, with KEY’s impassioned vocal selling the bit: “If you seen that ass, you'd make a song too.” How often must someone visit Dade County before it becomes an irreconcilable difference in an otherwise healthy relationship? 7. Raphael Saadiq - “Something Keeps Calling” ft. Rob Bacon - Named after his older brother, Raphael Saddiq’s towering Jimmy Lee album examines the personal cost of the crack epidemic, and the outsized role addiction plays in the lives of the destitute. “Something Keeps Calling” is the album’s crushing centerpiece, painting substances as at once a seductive lover and a heavy burden, one that overrides all common sense and decency: “My friends say I can never pull it together/Well they might be right, at least tonight/My kids say I'll never come home again/And I know they're right, at least tonight.” The song climaxes with Rob Bacon’s wailing guitar solo, which tries in vain to reach out to those beyond hope. 6. Bad Bunny & J Balvin - “La Canción” - Nestled in the middle of Balvin and Bunny’s summer smash OASIS, “La Canción” takes a break from the party to dwell on the inherent emptiness of their hedonistic lifestyle, as a mournful trumpet echoes the Reggaetoneros’ longing for meaningful connection amidst their chaotic lives. 5. Polo G - “Pop Out” ft. Lil TJay – Only Polo G would interrupt his own robbery to examine the sociological causes of his behavior: “We come from poverty, man, we ain't have a thing.” But on the rest of “Pop Out,” Polo leans into the dark side of his persona, before 2019’s most unlikely guest verse assassin Lil TJay brings the pathos: “If I showed you all my charges, you won't look at me the same.” In contrast to how effortless the two rappers sound atop the dramatic piano loop, listening to Lil Baby and Gunna wheeze through the remix hammers home the high degree of difficulty of such nimble melodics. It’s a testament to how fast rap music moves these days that Polo and TJay can make last year’s It Duo sound like geezers. 4. Octo Octa - “I Need You” – It starts as an intoxicatingly minimal expression of dancefloor lust, but halfway through, “I Need You” morphs into a sincere and moving tribute to everybody who helped Octo Octa become the woman she is today. It’s a moving moment tucked within an epic club track that works equally well as build-up or comedown.

3. Purple Mountains - “All My Happiness Is Gone” - It’s hard to find the words for this one, a matter-of-fact documentation of a man slowly losing his will to live--which became heartbreakingly clear when David Berman committed suicide in August. But because it’s Berman, “All My Happiness Is Gone” is packed with genius-level wordplay and devastating observations, and enough gallows humor to truly emphasize the gravity of his situation: “Friends are warmer than gold when you're old/And keeping them is harder than you might suppose//Lately, I tend to make strangers wherever I go/Some of them were once people I was happy to know.” I’ll keep going: “Ten thousand afternoons ago/All my happiness just overflowed/That was life at first and goal to go.” And one more: “Where nothing's wrong and no one's asking/But the fear's so strong it leaves you gasping/No way to last out here like this for long.”

2. Big Thief - “Not” - A torrid, slow-burning rocker, “Not” showcases lead singer-songwriter Adrienne Lenker’s skill with oblique imagery and wild-eyed intensity. Lenker rattles off a long list of poetic observations, trying to get to the heart of something (everything?) without ever finding a satisfactory answer, as the music morphs from a controlled simmer to a cacophonous freakout. “Not” climaxes with a riotous guitar solo from Lenker herself, one that reaches towards the cosmos and echoes her frayed vocal. As always with Big Thief, though, the song soars in the smallest moments, like when guitarist Buck Meek enters with plainspoken backing vocals, and at the beginning of the second verse when the guitars drop out and Lenker’s voice stands alone.

1. Burna Boy - “Anybody” - Sometimes the best song of the year is the one that makes you feel the best, and no song this year made me feel better than “Anybody.” “Anybody” is both inviting and aloof, urgent and relaxing. Riding an irresistible groove defined by syncopated keys, driving percussion, and an eager-to-please saxophone, Burna Boy slides between Pidgin English and Yoruba chasing a feeling that resonates beyond the capabilities of language. It’s a song about demanding and receiving respect, dripping with the contagious confidence of an African Giant. And for three minutes, you’ll feel like a giant too.

THE REST: 26. DaBaby - “Intro” 27. Perfume Genius - “Eye On The Wall” 28. Yves Jarvis - “To Say That Is Easy” 29. Doja Cat - “Cyber Sex” 30. Mannequin Pussy - “Drunk II” 31. Better Oblivion Community Center - “Dylan Thomas” 32. Shoreline Mafia - “Wings” 33. Kehlani - “Footsteps” ft. Musiq Soulchild 34. Obangjayar - “Frens” 35. Ariana Grande - “NASA” 36. Mustard ft. Roddy Ricch - “Ballin” 37. Baby Keem - “ORANGE SODA” 38. Jessie Ware - “Adore You” 39. 03 Greedo x Kenny Beats - “Disco Shit” ft. Freddie Gibbs 40. Martha - “Love Keeps Kicking” 41. Lucki - “More Than Ever” 42. Park Hye-Jin - “Call Me” 43. DaVido - “Disturbance” ft. Peruzzi 44. The Japanese House - “Worms” 45. Spencer Radcliffe - “Here Comes The Snow” 46. Dawn Richard - “Dreams And Converse” 47. ALLBLACK & Offset Jim - “Fees” ft. Capolow 48. David Kilgour - “Smoke You Right Out Of Here” 49. Sandro Perri - “Wrong About The Rain” 50. Nilüfer Yanya - “In Your Head” 51. Julia Jacklin - “Don’t Know How To Keep Loving You” 52. Miraa May - “Angles” ft. JME 53. (Sandy) Alex G - “Gretel” 54. Kelsey Lu - “Due West” 55. glass beach - “classic j dies and goes to hell, pt. 1” 56. Peggy Gou - “Starry Night” 57. Cate Le Bon - “Home To You” 58. Busy Signal - “Balloon” 59. NLE Choppa - “Shotta Flow” 60. Dee Watkins - “Hell Raiser” 61. Ari Lennox - “I Been” 62. The National - “Not In Kansas” 63. Shordie Shordie - “Both Sides” ft. Shoreline Mafia 64. Alex Lahey - “Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself” 65. Angel Olsen - “New Love Cassette” 66. Young Dolph - “Tric Or Treat” 67. Koffee - “Throne” 68. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - “Half Manne, Half Cocaine” 69. Noname - “Song 32” 70. Anthony Naples - “A.I.R.” 71. Samthing Soweto - “Omama Bomthandazo (feat Makhafula Vilakazi)” 72. KAYTRANADA - “10%” ft. Kali Uchis 73. Moodymann - “Got Me Coming Back Right Now” 74. Drakeo The Ruler - “Let’s Go” ft. 03 Greedo 75. Teejayx6 - “Dark Web” 76. Cass McCombs - “I Followed The River South to What” 77. Gunna - “Idk Why” 78. Sharon Van Etten - “You Shadow” 79. Tresor - “Sondela” ft. Msaki 80. E-40 - “Chase The Money” ft. Quavo, Roddy Ricch, ScHoolboy Q & A$AP Ferg 81. Spielbergs - “Running All The Way Home” 82. 24kGoldn - “Valentino” 83. Quelle Chris - “Box of Wheaties” 84. Emily King - “Go Back” 85. AzChike - “Yadda Mean” ft. Keak Da Sneak 86. Club Night - “Path” 87. Zeelooperz - “Easter Sunday” ft. Earl Sweatshirt 88. Kim Gordon - “Murdered Out” 89. YS - “Bompton” (Remix) ft. 1TakeJay & OhGeesy 90. Future - “Never Stop” 91. Lowly - “baglaens” 92. SAULT - “Masterpiece” 93. Earl Sweatshirt - “TISK TISK/COOKIES” 94. Fireboy DML - “Energy” 95. Rio Da Young OG & Lil E - “Buy The Block” 96. Sacred Paws - “Write This Down” 97. Wilco - “Everyone Hides” 98. Black Belt Eagle Scout - “Real Lovin” 99. Sleepy Hallow - “Breakin Bad (Okay)” ft. Sheff G 100. Aimee Leigh & Baby Billy - “Misbehavin’ (1989)”

Here’s a Spotify playlist of the full list: 

[sunshinykittens-blog]

Working on the Night Shift

October 7

It’s been a very tedious week. The first three days I worked in the garment district, doing mostly hauling of materials. Sweaty, backbreaking work. I’m not complaining much, because that work meant I was too tired when I got home to do anything but take a tepid shower and crash on my futon (which is getting a little lumpy, I must say). That means I don’t really care what time the kids finally get in the bed, or how many times Sunny has to yell “Joey, get off the fire escape, I don’t care if you think it’s the ‘New York thing to do’!” But yesterday the floor manager said something I found very odd. He asked me what I was willing to do for a career in the fashion industry. Yeah, I had been hanging around the seamstresses, watching how they did their tucks and pleats, but I am not sure what made him think I wanted a career. I had to tell him in polite but certain terms that I wasn’t looking for a career. And I really wasn’t interested in working in the fashion industry. He looked a little surprised and grumpy, and he walked back to his office, yelling at the people in his way, and slammed the door behind him. This afternoon around 2, I was called to HR and told they would no longer be needing my services. That was fine with me, I am a bit too out of shape to be tossing around heavy rolls of fabric! Plus, I get to sleep in a little later. No getting up at 4:30am to be sure I got to work on time. But the floor manager’s attitude had me thinking I probably should report it to Ms. Fleming when I turn in my time sheet this afternoon.

With a few hours free on this beautiful day, I decided to just take a stroll through one of the many parks. I settled on the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, not too far from home. And I fell in love with it. So many beautiful flowers, I bought myself a hot dog and drink and found a cozy little niche tucked away where I could just relax and let my body gather some vitamin D.

Long about 4, I drifted into the employment office to turn in my time card. Sarah, the girl manning the front on Thursday, asked me how the job went. I told her it was hard and tiring work, and aside from the floor manager being a bit on the strange side, it was ok. I was standing there chatting with her when the door to Ms. Fleming’s office flew open and she called my name. She asked me to step inside for a minute. At first I thought she was going to reprimand me for something the HR person at the warehouse had told her, but she was smiling at me.  

After some small talk about jobs and how I was settling in, she asked if I would be interested in making $200 for 4 hours’ work. I was a bit suspicious, I admit. You hear all the time about schools and employment agencies being fronts for prostitution rings, so I had to ask if I got to keep my clothes on. She didn’t even bat an eyelash when she explained she had an office cleaning contract and two of her regular workers had called out. She asked if I would be interested. Come on, that’s like $50 an hour, of course I was! And I got to keep my clothes on! Then she asked if I knew someone else who might like the same offer, since she needed a second person. I suggested Sunny. Ms. Fleming looked a bit nervous when I said that, and I couldn’t really blame her, what with the grocery store soda incident being so recent. Sunny did seem to have a tendency to invite disaster. After I promised to keep Sunny away from anything breakable, she agreed. And about half an hour later, I left the office with two t-shirts for us to wear for the job, two Metro Passes, and an introduction card with the company address on it. Wow, I remember thinking, Park Avenue. We are hitting the big time now!

When I got home and showed Sunny the card, she got excited. This was the place she’d gone to shred documents earlier in the week. So at least she knew where we were going, and about how long it would take to get there. After having dinner and I took a shower (my first hot one since I’d arrived), we threatened the kids with certain death if they didn’t get their homework finished and clean up the kitchen before we got home, let the neighbor across the hall know we were leaving (she’d agreed to keep an eye out and check on them a couple of times while we were gone), and we headed out for the subway. We had to arrive by 7 and be finished by midnight. Two trains and a couple of short walks later, we arrived. I could not believe my eyes. The address was for Stark Industries! It was a huge glass skyscraper, and as I looked up, I found I could not help but wish with all my might that we didn’t have to clean the top floors. I was getting a case of vertigo from the bottom!

When we introduced ourselves to the night guard at the front desk, he seemed to remember Sunny. Easy thing to do, she’s very memorable. Floyd, that’s what the guard’s tag said, handed us two guest badges to wear “at all times”, and told us that the girl over the temps would be there in a minute. She would give us the grand tour and tell us what we would be doing.

At 5 minutes to 7pm, on the dot like Floyd said, Trina walked in. we introduced ourselves, and she took us up to the 9th floor. We would be cleaning floors 7 through 9, and the general layout was the same, except there were offices on the 7th floor and cubicles on the other two. She showed us the janitor’s closet (you should have seen Sunny’s eyes light up when she saw the backpack vacuum cleaner), and gave us our list of tasks. We had general work space or offices, a break room, 4 bathrooms, and a copy room on each floor. We mostly had to take out trash, clean floors, restock things, and wipe down any dirty spaces. She said if we had any problems, just let Floyd know. And there she left us.

We immediately agreed that I would do the copy rooms. Sunny has had some bad experiences with copiers lately, I didn’t need her trudging home looking like she got in a fight with another squid. She would vacuum, I would do trash and windows, she’d do the break rooms, and we’d split up the bathrooms. I plugged in my Spotify and went to work. Every so often I would reach a space between songs and hear her humming the “Ghostbusters” theme. Time flew, and before long it was 11:35pm and we were looking at the pile of full trash bags by the elevator. Nobody had told us what to do with them. So we took them down to the first floor and asked Floyd.

He chuckled at us and told us that the trash goes down to the basement, there’s a receptacle for it to be hauled off. Nobody had told us to separate the trash into recyclable and non-recyclable either, but we would remember the next night. After we finished the disposal of the trash, we turned our badges in to Floyd and left, telling him we’d see him the next day.

We stopped off briefly for seasonal hot chocolate. I think Sunny now knows where I go when I run out for milk or whatever. But she doesn’t seem mad. Especially since I bought her coffee. And it’s really good coffee, eve if it isn’t Jittery Joe’s. And when we got home, the kids were asleep. It was lovely.

Yesterday, it was pretty much the same. I was feeling really good about our plans for the weekend, probably the best I have felt since I got that text over a month ago. So we just put on my work playlist on the phone and put it on speaker so we could both hear it. We were dancing around, singing to bits of songs while we were dancing and cleaning. We managed to keep the trash sorted and shave 20 minutes off our time. When we left, we thanked Floyd for a good time the past 2 nights. On the way home, we decided on our planes for the weekend, and then we got some microwave popcorn to eat while we watched Dr. Horrible’s Sing-A-Long Blog.

Right now, I am sitting in the coffee shop, enjoying my peppermint mocha latte, using their internet, and waiting on Ms. Fleming to arrive at the office. Then I can go pick up our checks for our 2 nights of work and head to that cute boutique a few blocks away. I need a really nice dress for tomorrow. Maybe something in green. Sunny and I decided to celebrate, we are taking the kids to a matinee of Wicked. I can’t wait, it’s my first Broadway show. Might even take them for ice cream afterwards. And maybe, just maybe, I will show them where the library is.

[vivanalove15]

101 Self-Care Suggestions for When It All Feels Like Too Much

1. Have a good, long, body-shaking cry.

2. Call a trusted friend or family member and talk it out.

3. Call in sick. Take comp time if you can. Take a mental health day.

4. Say no to extra obligations, chores, or anything that pulls on your precious self-care time.

5. Book a session (or more!) with your therapist.

6. Dial down your expectations of yourself at this time. When you’re going through life’s tough times, I invite you to soften your expectations of yourself and others.

7. Tuck yourself into bed early with a good book and clean sheets.

8. Watch a comforting/silly/funny/lighthearted TV show or movie. (“Parks and Recreation,” anyone?)

9. Reread your favorite picture and chapter books from childhood.

10. Ask for some love and tenderness from your friends on social media. Let them comment on your post and remind you that you’re loved.

11. Look at some some really gorgeous pieces of art.

12. Watch Youtube videos of Ellen DeGeneres and the adorable kids she has on her show.

13. Look at faith-in-humanity-restoring lists from Buzzfeed.

14. Ask for help. From whoever you need it – your boss, your doctor, your partner, your therapist, your mom. Let people know you need some help.

15. Wrap yourself up in a cozy fleece blanket and sip a cup of hot tea.

16. Breathe. Deeply. Slowly. Four counts in. Six counts out.

17. Hydrate. Have you had enough water today?

18. Eat. Have you eaten something healthy and nourishing today?

19. Sleep. Have you slept 7-9 hours? Is it time for some rest?

20. Shower. Then dry your hair and put on clothes that make you feel good.

21. Go outside and be in the sunshine.

22. Move your body gently in ways that feel good. Maybe aim for 30 minutes. Or 10 if 30 feels like too much.

23. Read a story (or stories) of people who overcame adversity or maybe dealt with mental illness, too. (I personally admire JK Rowling’s story.)

24. Go to a 12-Step meeting. Or any group meeting where support is offered. Check out church listings, hospital listings, school listings for examples.

25. If you suspect something may be physiologically off with you, go see your doctor and/or psychiatrist and talk to them. Medication might help you at this time and they can assist you in assessing this.

26. Take a long, hot bath, light a candle and pamper yourself.

27. Read inspirational quotes.

28. Cuddle someone or something. Your partner. A pillow. Your friend’s dog.

29. Read past emails/postcards/letters etc. from friends and family reminding you of happier times.

30. Knit. Sculpt. Bake. Engage your hands.

31. Exhaust yourself physically – running, yoga, swimming, whatever helps you feel fatigued.

32. Write it out. Free form in a journal or a Google doc. Get it all out and vent.

33. Create a plan if you’re feeling overwhelmed. List out what you need to do next to tackle and address whatever you’re facing. Chunk it down into manageable and understandable pieces.

34. Remember: You only have to get through the next five minutes. Then the next five. And so on.

35. Take five minutes to meditate.

36. Write out a list of 25 Reasons Why You’ll Be OK.

37. Write out a list of 25 Examples of Things You’ve Overcome or Accomplished.

38. Write out a list of 25 Reasons Why You’re a Good, Lovable Person.

39. Write out a list of 25 Things That Make Your Life Beautiful.

40. Sniff some scents that bring you joy or remind you of happier times.

41. Ask for support from friends and family via text if voice-to-voice contact feels like too much. Ask them to check in with you via text daily/weekly. Whatever you need.

42. Lay down on the ground. Let the earth/floor hold you. You don’t have to hold it all on your own.

43. Clean up a corner of a room of your house. Sometimes tidying up can help calm our minds.

44. Ask yourself: What’s my next most immediate priority? Do that. Then ask the question again.

45. Read some poetry.

46. Take a tech break. Delete or deactivate social media if it feels too triggering right now.

47. Or maybe get on tech. If you’ve been isolating maybe even interacting with friends and family online might feel good.

48. Go out in public and be around others. You don’t have to engage. But maybe go sit in a coffee shop or on a bench at a museum and soak up the humanity around you.

49. Or if you’re feeling too saturated with contact, go home. Cancel plans and tend to the introverted parts of yourself.

50. Ask friends and family to remind you that things will be OK and that what you’re feeling is temporary.

51. Put up some Christmas lights in your bedroom. They often make things more magical.

52. Spend a little money and treat yourself to some self-care and comfort. Maybe take a taxi versus the bus. Buy your lunch instead of forcing yourself to pack it. Buy some flowers that delight you.

53. Make art. Scribble with crayons. Splash some watercolors. Paint a rock. Whatever. Just create something.

54. Go wander around outside in your neighborhood and take a look at all the lovely houses and the way people decorate their gardens. Delight in the diversity of design.

55. Go visit or volunteer at your local animal rescue. Pet some animals.

56. Look at photos of people you love. Set them as the wallpaper of your phone or laptop.

57. Create and listen to a playlist of songs that remind you of happier times.

58. Read some spiritual literature.

59. Scream, pound pillows, tear up paper, shake your body to move the energy out.

60. Eat your favorite, most comforting foods.

61. Watch old Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood videos online.

62. Turn off the lights, sit down, stare into space and do absolutely nothing.

63. Pick one or two things that feel like progress and do them. Make your bed. Put away the dishes. Return an email.

64. Go to a church or spiritual community service. Sit among others and absorb any guidance or grace that feels good to you.

65. Allow yourself to fantasize about what you’re hoping or longing for. There are clues and energy in your reveries and daydreams that are worth paying attention to.

66. Watch Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response videos to help you calm down and fall asleep at night.

67. Listen to monks chanting, singing Tibetan bowls or nature sounds to help soothe you.

68. Color in some adult coloring books.

69. Revisit an old hobby. Even if it feels a little forced, try your hand at things you used to enjoy and see what comes up for you.

70. Go to the ocean. Soak up the negative ions.

71. Go to the mountains. Absorb the strength and security of them.

72. Go to the forest. Drink in the shelter, life and sacredness of the trees.

73. Put down the personal help books and pick up some good old fashioned fiction.

74. Remember: Your only job right now is to put one foot in front of the other.

75. Allow and feel and express your feelings – all of them! – safely and appropriately. Seek out help if you need support in this.

76. Listen to sad songs or watch sad movies if you need a good cry. (“Steel Magnolias“, anyone?)

77. Dance around wildly to your favorite, most cheesy songs from your high school years.

78. Put your hands in dirt. If you have a garden, go garden. If you have some indoor plants, tend to them. If you don’t have plants or a garden, go outside. Go to a local nursery and touch and smell all the gorgeous plants.

79. If you want to stay in bed all day watching Netflix, do it. Indulge.

80. Watch or listen to some comedy shows or goofy podcasts.

81. Look for and Google up examples of people who have gone through and made it through what you’re currently facing. Seek out models of inspiration.

82. Get expert help with whatever you need. Whether that’s through therapy, psychiatry, a lawyer, clergy, let those trained to support you do it.

83. Educate yourself about what you’re going through. Learn about what you’re facing, what you can expect to feel, and how you can support yourself in this place.

84. Establish a routine and stick to it. Routines can bring so much comfort and grounding in times of life that feel chaotic or out of control.

85. Do some hardcore nesting and make your home or bedroom as  cozy and beautiful and comforting as possible.

86. Get up early and watch a sunrise.

87. Go outside and set up a chair and watch the sunset.

88. Make your own list of self-soothing activities that engage all five of your senses.

89. Develop a supportive morning ritual for yourself.

90. Develop a relaxing evening ritual for yourself.

91. Join a support group for people who are going through what you’re going through. Check out the listings at local hospitals, libraries, churches, and universities to see what’s out there.

92. Volunteer at a local shelter or hospital or nursing home. Practice being of service to others who may also be going through a tough time.

93. Accompany a friend or family member to something. Even if it’s just keeping them company while they run errands, sometimes this kind of contact can feel like good self-care.

94. Take your dog for a walk. Or borrow a friend’s dog and take them for a walk.

95. Challenge your negative thinking.

96. Practice grounding, relaxation techniques.

97. Do something spontaneous. Walk or drive a different way to work. Order something new off the menu.Listen to a Spotify playlist of new songs.

98. Work with your doctor, naturopath or nutritionist to develop a physical exercise plan and food plan that will be supportive to whatever you’re facing right now.

99. Pray. Meditate. Write a letter to God/The Universe/Source/Your Higher Self, whatever you believe in.

100. As much as you can, please try and trust the process.

101. Finally, please remember, what you’re going through right now is temporary. It may not feel like that from inside the tough time you’re in, but this too shall pass and you will feel different again someday. If you can’t have faith in that, let me hold the hope for you.

[rather-impertinent]

A Fair Chance: Chapter 2

A/N: Hi friends!! Here is chapter 2, sorry it took so long I changed my mind about 24253 times but today is my birthday so I finally had some me time to sit down and write something proper, yay! Hope you enjoy! xo

(You can also read it here if you prefer the format: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9100009/chapters/20970410)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Demelza, will you sit still?!" Caroline moaned.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so nervous. I've never been to a ball or anything like that, and especially not with a guy!"

"A very attractive one at that." Caroline added. "So that's exactly why you have to sit still while I do your hair. Demelza, stop twisting it! Seriously you're going to end up with alopecia or something."

"Alo-what?" asked Demelza, untangling her fingers from her fiery locks.

"Fuck." thought Caroline, reddening. She cleared her throat slightly. "Oh it's just this condition that you get where your hair thins and falls out due to stress or other factors." She tried to say casually, ignoring Demelza's scrutinising glance in the mirror.

She hadn't told Demelza she'd had a coffee with Dwight this week. Pretty much every day.

Because it wasn't a big deal.

He'd been studying for an exam so Caroline decided to help him as she had already finished hers and she found that she had learned some medical conditions in the process.

Demelza and her raised eyebrow were about to interrogate her when the buzzer rang.

"I'll get it!" Caroline jumped up and basically ran out of the door, hoping to avoid any further questions.

She pulled open the door expecting to see Verity or a delivery man but she was instead greeted by Ross Poldark. She blinked at him, standing there in his well-tailored Armani suit. It took her about 20 seconds to register that this was a terrible situation.

"Ross!" she squeaked.

"Caroline." he replied, smirking.

"You- you're over an hour early!"

"I know. I thought I might take Demelza out for a quick bite to eat. There's never enough food at these events." He explained.

Caroline simply blinked at him, and fidgeted nervously.

"You can't." she blurted out. "I mean... She isn't ready yet!" Her mind drifted to her red haired friend sitting in the bedroom in a dressing gown with only one winged eyeliner done and her hair only half up.

Ross laughed heartily and rolled his eyes. "Women."

Caroline chewed her bottom lip, unsure of what to do. In the end she invited him in and gave him the tv remote. "Ok, we'll try to be quick... in the meantime please watch whatever you'd like. Would you like some tea? Or a beer?"

Ross chuckled at her flustered disposition. "No, thank you, I'm fine."

Caroline returned to the room wearing a panicked expression. Demelza was singing gaily along to her Spotify playlist and didn't immediately notice Caroline's entrance.

She turned to her, her own face then morphing into the same panicked expression. "Caroline? What's happened?"

"Ross is here already! We have to get you ready!"

Without saying another word, Demelza quickly dipped her brush into her powder and smeared it on her face. Caroline hastily began pinning her hair in place. Within 20 minutes they were finished, impressed with the final product.

"There's no way he's not pulling you tonight." Caroline stated proudly.

Demelza reddened and began stuttering. "Oh no, I don't think so. I mean he's so... and I'm so..."

"Hush, Demelza, you are gorgeous! I'm so excited! This is going to be great, I'll wait up for you!" she squealed.

Demelza took a few deep breaths and gathered the courage to enter the living room. Caroline hung back, with her ear pressed to the wall. She heard Ross's audible gasp.

"Why, Demelza, look at you!" he beamed, studying her impressive figure in a perfectly fitted green dress.

Demelza's voice retreated into full Cornishness due to her nerves. "Oh why thank ye Ross, you be lookin' grand yourself." She wanted to die. Why couldn't she sound all sophisticated like Ross? Her accent had lost its strength after 3 years away from home and 3 years living with a young aristocrat from London, but now and then it peaked through, usually at the worst possible time.

"Thank you." He said, blushing. "Shall we go? I thought you might be hungry, and food runs out quickly at these events."

She smiled warmly. No man had ever shown her such consideration or kindness. Her stomach fluttered nervously. As did his.

"Wait!" shouted Caroline. "I want to get a photo!" she said excitedly, as if it were her own children who were attending the ball. She snapped a couple of quick photos and they left her flat, arms linked.

/

Roughly 5 hours, 22 glasses of wine and 9 dances later, Demelza and Ross found themselves in the botanical gardens a few metres away from the university’s main building, where most balls were held.

Ross smiled and sipped the remainder of his wine as he watched Demelza drunkenly spin in circles and sing some Cornish folk songs. He found himself in awe of her spirit and beauty; how perfectly her dressed complimented her hair and skin.

He was taken out of his daydream when she squealed and pointed to a row of flowers. “Ross, look! Cornflowers! They’re my favourite!” She bent down, pulled one out and tucked it in her hair, grinning.

Ross decided in that moment he had had enough of the distance between them and moved to close it, standing inches away from her. “Have you had a nice time?”

“The best! Oh, Ross, I can't think of a night in my entire life where I've had more fun than this.” she replied, her eyes shining.

He gazed down at her. She was so intriguing, her striking beauty mixed with a childlike faith in the world. He wondered whether he should kiss her.

“Ross? Is something wrong?” she asked, worried as to why he had been staring at her for so long.

He smiled. “No, nothing is wrong.” he said, his body inching closer to hers.

He searched her eyes for consent and when he found it, slowly lower his lips to hers; gentle and hesitant at first. Then Demelza reached her arms behind his neck to deepen the kiss, which he responded to eagerly, his hands roaming. Her hands tangled in his curls whereas his glided the small of her waist, then up over her breasts to cup her jaw.

Aware that they were in public, and not wanting things to go too fast, he regrettably mumbled against her lips: “I think we’d better go home now.”

/

Caroline attempted to concentrate on Grey’s Anatomy, which Dwight had persuaded her to watch, but kept on incessantly checking her phone. It was almost 2am and Demelza still wasn’t home. Was she okay? Did she go home with Ross? Caroline considered texting Dwight to ask, but didn’t want to risk waking him up because she knew he had been working today.

Just then, an inebriated Demelza came stumbling through the door.

Caroline rushed to meet her. “So, how was the ball?”

“Oh my god, Caroline, it was amazing! Ross is such a gentleman! He paid for everything, including my taxi! And he opened doors and pulled my chair out for me! Plus he is such a good dancer!” she gushed.

“Aw, that sounds nice! Now, for the important part: did anything happen?”

Demelza smiled shyly. “We kissed.”

Caroline screamed excitedly. “I knew it! I told you he wouldn’t be able to resist. Tongues?”

“Tongues.” she confirmed proudly.

Demelza had successfully changed into her pyjamas when Caroline came into her room with some tea and toast, and a glass of water for her inevitable hangover.

Demelza rammed half a slice into her mouth and chewed loudly. “Oh my god, Caroline, that reminds me! We saw Verity there and guess what? She is Ross’s cousin! She was a Poldark before she married Andrew. How weird is that?”

“Really? What a small world!”

Switching the lamp on, Demelza slurped her tea and inhaled the other half of her toast. She smiled inwardly as she noticed Caroline constantly checking her phone. “Have you heard from Dwight?” she asked casually.

Caroline’s gaze shot up, her cheeks becoming hot. “Dwight Enys? No… Why would I have heard from him?”

“Oh, shut up, Caroline!" she laughed. "I know you two have been talking. I saw you in the library the other day. Plus, Ross said all he’s done for the past week is talk about you and how cool you are.”

“Oh, really?” Her casual tone did not reflect the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach. She knew that she couldn’t let her relationship with Dwight get any further than friendship, because it could only end badly on both sides.

“I thought you would be more excited.” commented Demelza.

“You know why I can’t be excited.”

Demelza scrunched her mouth in understanding and lurched forward to give her a tight hug.

“So, when will you see Ross next?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Tomorrow, I hope.”

“Well, in that case, you better get some sleep and sober up.” Caroline laughed and switched off the lights for her. “Night!”

“Night! Love ya!”

Ten minutes later Caroline was brushing her teeth before bed when she heard her phone ping. She smiled as she saw who the text was from.

Dwight: Tell Demelza she owes me 20 quid for the t-shirt that Ross projectile vomited on as soon as he walked in the door! She can get me a new ear too while she’s at it, because Ross has talked mine off talking about her!! Did she mention anything about them being official? X

She spat out her toothpaste and replied embarrassingly quickly.

Caroline: Hahahaha! Poor you! No… they can’t possibly be official already, can they? They’ve only met like 4 times! But idk maybe you could say something to Ross? Demelza is way too shy to ask him out, even though I know she really likes him. How was work? X

Dwight: I definitely will then! It was fine thanks, got beat at chess 3 times by a 97 year old though! But my favourite lady shared her chocolates with me, which was sweet. How was your day? X”

Caroline: Awww but I thought I was your favourite lady? :( That’s cute though. My day was really boring, I spent most of it packing to go home. But I did get through 3 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and I really like it so far! X

As soon as she had sent that text, she regretted it. She had meant it as a joke but now panicked over its risky undertone. She locked her phone, turned it over so she couldn’t see the screen and began removing her mascara to distract herself. After what she considered a reasonable amount of time, she peaked at her phone and opened the message. The message which Dwight had proof read 3 times before he plucked up the courage to press send.

Dwight: I’m sorry, you are my favourite lady! She’s my favourite  old lady. You’d love her she is so nice. When are you going home for Christmas? I’m glad you like it, I told you you would! I like to watch it and pretend that it counts as studying haha! X”

She grinned as reread the text when she got into bed, trying to think of a reply. She eventually fell asleep with the phone in her hand and a warm feeling in her stomach. Yet somewhere, in the back of her mind, something told her that something very, very bad was about to happen.