#we gonna raise hell anyway ; sallie may

[hellsgreatestsideshow]

@hellsgreatestgame

「 𓍼 ❝ Well ain't this a fancy schmancy place y'all got here? Bet y'all got them fancy soaps. ❞ She smiled as she eyed the lobby. Seeing the critter (Niffty) running around chasing bugs reminded her of home. ❝ Oh, hey Goldilocks, is that bar for anyone? ❞ 」

[hellsgreatestsideshow]

「 𓍼 That barn story was old. Barely phased her anymore. But she wasn't fishing for pity, just trying to make a point. She reached out, hesitantly, and tried to touch his arm. ❝ That's the pits. But you don't seem like a jerk to me. Given that face, you got that remorse thing flowing through you. I know it ain't much coming from a farm girl, but if my pa ever lied to me, I hope he'd tell me the truth someday. Have you tried that? ❞ 」

It was true. He was so consumed in his own self pity he almost missed her story. He froze hearing that. there was a pit in his stomach. "Well that isn't okay either but mine is far worse." He would have to pay her parents a visit some other time. "I lied to my daughter her entire life."

[cjsinkythoughts]

Ocean Eyes, Cherry Lips, Ivory Keys

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2747

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, I think that’s all

A/N: This is a headcanon I’ve had for a while that I’ve been wanting to write about 40s!Bucky, pre-War. I kinda want to write a series about it, so that might happen. For now, enjoy this little tidbit I’ve written, with the prompt of Occasion for HBC’s Lucky in Love Day 18! (This isn’t beta’d so please excuse mistakes.)

He’s something of a celebrity. A living legend. A God amongst humans. Starting as a kid in Brooklyn, his fanbase rapidly grew, expanding to Queens, Manhattan, even parts of New Jersey, just in the past few years.

You don’t get it. So what if he’s got cool blue eyes, soft chocolate hair, and a charming smile? Who cares if he’s got smooth moves and even smoother words? He’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. A talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him, but still just a man.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Most everyone knew his name, but there was a lot of mystery surrounding the actual character. 

You just don’t see what all the fuss is about. You’ve never personally met him, or even seen him, but you know people who have. Your friend’s cousin even claims to have danced with him once. Not that that would be hard. You hear he’s never danced with the same bird twice, and, considering most start dancing in their teenage years, that’s a lot of dames.

It’s not that you’re not curious about him - if he’s actually as dashing as they say - but you’re not about to stop your life for him like some of your friends. They’re obsessed with getting his attention. With seeing if they’d be the one. The one to finally chain him down and tame him. The one he’d go steady with.

It feels like that’s all you ever talk about anymore. It was amusing at first, but now it’s just getting annoying. It’s been three years since that day in March of 1938, when your roommate ran into your room, plopping down onto your bed, before ranting and raving about the new ocean eyed piano player at her favorite bar. And since then, he’s been in your life without actually being in your life.

Speaking of, here you are. Listening to Lucy, MaryAnne, and Jean gushing over the man, trying to enjoy your milkshake.

“I heard from Sally that Thomas said that he knew the brother of one of his friend’s in high school!”

“That can’t be true! I heard from Billy, who heard from Martha, who was told by Ben, that he only had, like, one friend in high school.”

“You’re kidding, right? There’s no way a man like that had only one friend.”

“I hear he does boxing and that’s why he’s got a body sculpted like a Greek God.”

“Oh my God! MaryAnne!”

You rub your temples, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as the three burst into fits of giggles. If you have to hear one more word about-

“I heard he’s going to be playing at Georgie’s on Friday!”

Gasps echoed around the table. “No way! Georgie’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, this actually intriguing you. Georgie’s is a popular little hole in the wall, on the edge of being a speakeasy, which doubles as a pub and a dance hall in Brooklyn. It’s one of the best hang outs for kids like you and your girls, but it isn’t very high class. Maybe that’s why it’s one of the best. “Isn’t Georgie’s a little…cheap for him? He’s been playing at the best bars and restaurants for a while now.”

“It’s a classic in Brooklyn. Near his home, probably.”

“Do you think he lives near there?!”

“Ooo! Maybe we could find out!’

You scoff. “That,” gesturing to Lucy with your glass, you take a sip of your milkshake. “Is called stalking, my friend.”

Jean waves towards you dismissively. “I think he lives near Tin Pan Alley. That’s where he plays the most, after all. Georgie’s was probably just an old hang out for him and his pals.”

“Wait, wait,” you shake your head, a thought popping into your head. You turn to Lucy, confused. “How’d you find out he’s playing at Georgie’s anyways? Isn’t part of his whole act not telling anyone where he’s playing?”

Giving you a smirk and a wink, Lucy shrugs. “I’ve got my connections.”

You roll your eyes again, turning your attention back to your milkshake. “So?!” MaryAnne squealed. “We’re going on Friday, right?”

“Hell yes!”

“Absolutely!”

“Not.” You mumble, causing the other three to stare at you incredulously.

“Not?!”

“I’m not wasting my Friday night going to see some fella you all have a crush on. Especially when he might not even be there.”

Your friends groan, exchanging glances. “And what’re you gonna do?” Jean crossed her arms with a pointed look on her face. “Sit down and read a book like you always do?”

You huff. “I like reading, sue me. I don’t get a lot of time to myself. You know that new girl’s been gumming up the works and I’ve had to stay late to fix her mistakes all week.”

“This is exactly what you need, then! Come out, have a drink, jive a little-”

You look up at that, an amused kind of smirk on your lips. “Jive? Me and my clumsy ass?”

You all laugh. “Okay, so maybe not dance, but c’mon! It’ll be snazzy, you’ll see!”

“Fine, fine.” Standing up with a sigh, you collect your things, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “I’ve gotta scram.”

“We’ll see you on Friday, right?”

You give a small smile, shooting them a wink. “I guess I can make it.”

***************

Friday comes a lot faster than you anticipate. You dress up; a navy blue dress going to your knees with white, heart shaped buttons and a bow around the waist. The shoes you’re wearing are your nice black and white Mary Janes. Lips painted deep red, and hair pinned back in loose curls, you glance over yourself in a mirror. You’ll admit; you look damn good. You don’t wanna go, but you might as well try to have some fun since you are.

It’s a cool evening, early May meaning the summer humidity hasn’t hit just yet. You didn’t even think about bringing a coat, but you start to regret the decision as you start walking. MaryAnne, who you actually room with, already left, being way too excited to stay put.

It doesn’t take you long - you live on the border of Queens and Brooklyn - but your feet are more sore than you’d like when you arrive.

“I knew you’d come!” Lucy grins, coming up besides you and linking her arm in yours. MaryAnne comes up on your other side and does the same to your free arm.

“Where’s Jean?”

“Where do you think? She already found a Joe to swing with.”

You laugh. “Of course she has! So is your dreamboat here?”

The grins that are immediately on their faces answer your question and they quickly drag you inside.

It’s hot and crowded and dim. Skirts with their beaus, guys with their broads, swinging and dancing to the lively music of the band on stage. Smoke from cigarettes, pipes, and cigars is evident in the air as they neared the bar portion of the building, mixing with the boisterous sound of laughter and chatter.

“Everyone’s talking about it! He’s here, but he hasn’t played yet. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of him, but we think he’s in a back room.” The dramatic sigh MaryAnne gives makes you laugh a little.

“Okay, khaki whackies. Let’s get a drink.”

You, just as you thought would happen tonight, are left alone at the bar by your friends who quickly found partners to dance with. A few men asked you, but you have never been a good dancer.

You’re lost in thought, running a finger gently around the rim of your cup, when a voice sounded besides you, pulling you out of your thoughts, a slight rasp to the otherwise mellifluous voice.

“You gonna drink that, doll, or just stare at it all night?”

You raise an eyebrow at the jest, turning your head, only to have your breath hitch. What a specimen. Ocean blue eyes, fluffy brown curls, cherry pink lips. A white dress shirt is pulled over his broad chest, gray dress pants hugging thick thighs, matching suit jacket across wide shoulders. He has a blue, black, and white plaid tie around his neck and you can see the edges of his blue suspenders under his blazer. He’s put together, but it’s nothing special, a normal Sunday best suit, that much you can tell.

“Uh, not all night.” You look back to the drink, before looking at the clock with a hum, tilting your head playfully. “Maybe another hour.”

He chuckles, gesturing for the bartender. “Tell me this, sweetheart. What is a beautiful dame like yourself doin’ drinking alone?”

“I’m not very good on my feet, I’m afraid.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your drink.

“Don’t come here often, then?”

“Only for special occasions.”

“What’s the special occasion this evenin’, sugar?”

You shrug. “My friends dragged me here. They’re practically in love with this guy who’s supposedly playing the piano tonight. James Barnes. Have you ever heard of him?”

He chuckles, a grin pulling his lips upwards. “Yeah. Yeah I’ve heard of ‘im. Not a big fan yourself?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I just don’t understand the fascination with him. Let the man be.”

“I agree.” He hums with a nod, grabbing the glass of whiskey the bartender set in front of him. “I actually know him.”

“Really?” You look at him in interest.

He tilts his head with a smile towards you that makes you melt. “Yeah. He feels the same. He just likes playin’. That’s all. He didn’t want all the attention. He gets enough without that.”

You raise an eyebrow, finishing off your drink. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m Bucky by the way.”

You eye his hand, grabbing it after a second, letting him bring your knuckles to his lips. “Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, mama.” He shifts his body more towards you, running a hand through his hair. “You said you ain’t fond of dancin’?”

Shaking your head, you quickly defend yourself, “no, no. I like dancing. I’m just not very good. Got two left feet.”

He smirks, tongue poking out to run over those plump lips of his. “Well, with the right partner, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Are you asking me to dance, Bucky?”

“Not if you’re gonna say no.” He responds with a toothy grin, leaning his elbows on his knees.

You sigh and shake your head. “I’m afraid tonight’s not your night, pal. I just can’t seem to get myself in the mood.”

He hums, leaning back. “Is it the music? Too fast for you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if they slowed it down some, I suppose.”

He smiles cheekily. “I can help with that. Hold on.”

You grin at him, nodding. “I’ll be here.”

Watching him stand and make his way over to the stage, you quirk an eyebrow. He seems to know the band well, if the handshakes and the claps on the back have anything to say about it. He says something to the lead, who nods with a grin, shooting him a wink. Bucky laughs, but you can see a tint of pink dusting his cheeks, making you wonder what they were saying.

He makes his way back over as the band shifts tones, the animated swing changing to a slow jazzy number. Bucky beams at you, holding out his hand as he approaches. “Care to dance?”

You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes, but taking his hand anyways. “How’d you do that? Do you work here?’

“Uh…somethin’ like that.” He states vaguely, leading you to the dance floor with the other swaying couples. Pulling you as close as appropriate, his hands resting politely on your waist, he starts moving you side to side. 

“That’s not ominous.” You place your hands on his shoulders, following his lead as you stare at your feet.

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. “I’ve gotcha, doll. I won’t let you fall.”

“I’m going to step on your feet.” You explain.

“Nah. You’re doin’ great. You just need to get outta your head. Relax a little. Tell me something about yourself.”

You hum. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Uh, okay…I have a roommate who is one of the girls who begged me to come, I’m a secretary - I know, boring - and…I dunno. I like reading.”

His eyes lighten at this. “Reading? Whaddya like to read?”

“Different things. Depends on my mood. I’m re-reading The Hobbit for, like, the twentieth time right now.”

“I love The Hobbit.” Bucky grins, making you smile back. “I read it almost as soon as it came out.”

“Me too! I was planning on reading it tonight but,” you gesture around. “Here I am.”

Bucky lips pull up softly, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pulls you closer. “Well, as much as I love that book, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

Giving him a little tease, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Eh…I think I’d rather be at home.”

He pinches your side gently, making you squeal and squirm. “That hurt, sugar. That physically hurt me. C’mon, mama, your gonna say you aren’t havin’ a good time?”

“I just met you ten minutes ago.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you think we’re movin’ too fast, I won’t introduce you to my folks just yet.”

You laugh, blinking up at him. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Buck.”

The two of you rock for a little while longer, before the band stops, announcing they’re taking a break and a special guest is going to play a little something.

“Maybe James Barnes is here.” You say, a bit of intrigue lacing your tone, trying to see through the crowds of people who started gathering around the stage to catch a glimpse of the charming pianist. “I see why he would be over the attention.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs, almost sadly, giving you an apologetic look. “Listen, I’ve gotta go work for a bit, but I’ll be right back.”

You smirk. “So you do work here?”

“Um…kinda. You’ll see.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, but he’s kissing your knuckles and walking away. You frown, but can’t think more on it when three young women are on you, babbling about their dates.

“Who were you dancing with, Y/N? He was cute!”

You roll your eyes, feeling yourself heat up, and not because of the many bodies in the vicinity. “Just…some guy.”

“C’mon, c’mon! We’ve gotta get a good spot to actually see him!”

You huff, letting the drag you through the crowd, shoving their way towards the front just as a familiar deep voice spoke. 

“Thanks for comin’ out, everyone. I hope your havin’ a good night. Let’s get this hop started, yeah?”

Your eyes widen when you finally catch sight of the man sitting at the piano with a polite smile on his features. He catches your eye and shoots you a wink, before his fingers start flying over the keys. The beam that he gets while tickling the gleaming ivories, his azure eyes lighting up, and you can’t fight the smile you get. He looks so relaxed, so invigorated, that it makes you happy just watching him.

“Oh my God! Weren’t you dancing with him?!” Lucy shook your shoulder obnoxiously, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, mesmerized with the way he played like it’s the only thing he wanted to do with his life. Which, as you remember his words, ‘he just likes playin’. That’s all.’ you figure it is the only thing he wanted to do with his life.

You just danced with James Barnes…and he’s just as perfect as everyone says.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it, your friends jumping around you, trying to get every little detail of him from you, when your heart skips a beat and your brain malfunctions. Bucky had started up another song, slower and more intimate, and he’s looking right at you. 

You find yourself doing something you never thought you would; you’re swooning over James Barnes, smiling like an idiot, heat blooming up your neck and flaming your face. And yes, he’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. But he’s a talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him.

And now that includes you.

[staticscreenwriting]

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES

TWO - Grease 1 & 2

Masterlist 

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

“  I made a friend. “

Dr. Raynor doesn’t look up from her notebook but the slightly surprised raise of her eyebrow doesn’t get lost on Bucky.

“ Thought you might want to know. “

She stops writing for a second and glances up at him, her eyes holding a certain sense of hesitation and reluctance. He can almost see the gears in her head turning. She’s trying to get one step ahead of him, figure out what smartass comment he’ll throw at her. Only this time there isn’t one. This time it’s all genuine. It’s all true.

“ I do. That’s — good. Where’s the catch? “

“ There’s no catch. I made a new friend, just like that. And it’s not some making amends thing either. “

She closes her notebook, places it on the table to her right, and then folds her hands in her lap the way she does sometimes when Bucky knows he’s said something important. He has her entire and undivided attention.

“ That’s good, James. Tell me more about this friend. “

“ Her name is (Y/N). She’s a waitress and she’s really into movies. “

“ Oh. “

“ Oh? “

“ It’s a woman. “

“ Yeah it’s a woman, is that a problem? “ Bucky asks. Now it’s time for him to raise an eyebrow in question.

“ No. It’s not. I just didn’t expect it. “

“ Are you saying men and women can’t be friends? That’s awfully antiquated thinking, Doc. Have you ever seen when Harry met Sally? “

“ I have. Have you?”

Bucky scoffs as if the question is an insult to his intelligence.

“ Sure. It’s a classic. “

He hits her with a sarcastic grin, the one he knows she hates. The one she knows is fake and fabricated but that allows him to be unreadable to her for just a second.

“ Well then. I’m glad you’re making friends. It’s a big step, James. But I don’t want you to get attached to someone because you think that’s gonna make you get out of this arrangement any sooner, “ she says and motions her finger around the room in a twirling motion. “ It’s a more permanent situation. I hope you are aware of that.”

Eyes averted to the floor, Bucky nods his head in understanding.

“ I know. That’s not the reason. I — she knows me. Knows about me before all of the bad stuff. In her eyes, I am the man I used to be before Hydra. It’s nice to go back to that even if it’s not the truth. (Y/N) gives me a chance to figure out who I am right now without being reminded of all the bad things I did. “

When he looks back up Dr. Reynor regards him with a look he’s never seen before. Softer. She even smiles a little bit and he hardly ever sees her smile. Granted, he doesn't make these sessions easy for her so what does he expect really? Her smiling at him feels like he’s doing something right.

“ She sounds lovely. “

“ She talks so much and she sends me weird videos I don’t understand. Like, yesterday she sent me one of a kid saying he’s 19 and he can’t read and — I have no idea what it meant. And she makes fun of me for having a flip phone. But it’s not mean-spirited or anything. She doesn’t make me feel left out. Doesn’t make me feel stupid. “

“ Anything else you know about her? “

“ Her coffee tastes horrible. “

Dr. Reynor lets out an airy chuckle. “ James, I like the fact that you’re making friends. We all need friends, especially during times when we feel like we’re lost or have no direction in life. And it sounds like this friendship is good for you. “

“ But? “

“ Why do you think there’s a but ? “

“ There always is. “

She regards him for a second then nods slightly. “ You’re right. But it’s not a bad one. Listen, it seems like this woman knows a lot about who you used to be. How about you learn a little more about her? Even the playing field. A friendship is based on mutual understanding and trust. That’s my homework for you. Get to know her better. “

“ Your homework is for me to spend time with a friend? “

“ Yes. Now that doesn’t sound so bad, does it? “

Bucky shakes his head in reply.

No, that really doesn’t sound all that bad.

The bell above the door chimes as Bucky steps inside the diner. It’s quite a bit more crowded than the last time he’s been here.

“ Grumpy!”

His head snaps towards the counter at the enthusiastic exclamation of his new nickname.

  (Y/N) stands behind the counter clad in the diner’s signature baby blue polo shirt, a pencil tugged behind her ears, and a frilly apron wrapped around her waist.

Her lips pull into a smile as he approaches and plops down onto one of the barstools.

“ You have impeccable timing, Grumpy.”

“ I guess that’s gonna stick? “

(Y/N) only nods her head in agreement, eyes full of mischief and determination. There’s no sense in arguing about this topic. That’s one nickname set in stone now. And really, it’s not like it doesn’t fit him.

“ I have something for you. “

“ You do? “

“ Well it’s not technically for you specifically but I need someone to try it so — “

Before he can even react she rushes back into the kitchen, her sneakers creating squeaking sounds on the shiny linoleum floor.

“ Do you want some coffee? “ the other waitress approaches, holding out the pot filled with the dark brew. It smells warm and delicious and Bucky wants to say yes until he remembers the last time he’s had coffee here and how bitter and burned it had been. And how he drank it anyway because he couldn’t bear to let (Y/N) know that her coffee was horrible.

“ Don’t worry, “ the waitress speaks up again, obviously picking up on Bucky’s complicated feelings towards the diner’s coffee “ I made it. Won’t let her near the pot when I’m around.”

“ In that case, please. “

Just as the mug fills with coffee, (Y/N) comes back tumbling around the corner and out of the kitchen. She leans against the counter, next to the red-haired waitress, and plops a Tupperware container in front of Bucky.

“ Try these and tell me what you think. “

Bucky takes a sip of his coffee before slowly opening the container to be greeted by a pile of cookies, of all shapes and sizes, no two quite the same.

“ Cookies? “

“ Eat one! “

“ Whoa, hold up.” Bucky exclaims as he raises his hands in mock defense. “ this sounds awfully suspicious to me. Are you trying to pull a Snow White on me here? “

(Y/N) eyes grow big and the most radiant smile spreads across her face at his words.

“ You made a pop culture reference!”

“ Saw it in the cinema. “

“ No way.”

“ Mmmh. With my sister.”

“ I just decided I love it when you make pop culture references. “

“ Noted.”

“ Okay, so since no one thinks it’s important to introduce me, let me do it myself,” the red-haired waitress chimes in and holds out her hand for Bucky to shake. He can see her eyebrows furrow a little as she notices his gloves. It’s not yet cold enough for people to not wonder about it. They know something ain’t right with him and he hates it. Wishes they’d just disregard it. Act like it’s a completely normal and feasible thing.

“ I’m Robin, (Y/N)’s best friend. “

“ I’m Bucky. Hopefully, not the first victim of (Y/N)’s poisoning.”

“ Oh, how arrogant of you to assume you’d be the first. If you don’t want my cookies, give ‘em back !”

(Y/N) tries to reach across the counter only for Bucky to snatch the container away holding it out of her reach. “ You gave me the cookies, you can’t take them back. That’s not how gifts work.”

“ Then try one for god’s sake! “

“ Alright, calm down. I will. “

He hates the fact that both (Y/N) and Robin are staring at him as he takes a bite of one of the cookies. The whole thing is almost the size of his face and littered with chocolate chips. It’s a damn mess of a cookie and he’d loved to have been there when she made them. No doubt it was chaos. No doubt it was an awful lot of fun too.

The cookie is — a lot. It’s too much sugar, too much chocolate. Too much of everything. He can practically feel the cavities building with every bite he takes. It’s that sweet.

But she looks at him with such glee in her eyes and this big beautiful smile that rivals the sun with its brightness and there’s no way in hell he can tell her the truth. Not when lying about it keeps that smile on her face.

Quite honestly,  Bucky thinks, life isn’t about telling the truth at all times. Sometimes, life is about knowing when to use your little white lies. Sometimes telling the truth isn’t doing anyone any favor.

“ So ? “

“ They’re — sweet.”

And they are. So really, it isn’t even an actual lie after all.

“ Good. They’re supposed to be. You see, I have a date tomorrow and I asked him what his favorite dessert was and he said cookies. I’m not sure they count as a dessert but anyway. Thanks for being my guinea pig. “

Robin throws him a look over (Y/N)’s shoulder. A look that lets him know she’s not buying it. She’s looking right through him. But she smiles so maybe she too realizes that sometimes lying saves everyone the heartache that may come with the truth.

“ You have a date? “

“ I do. His name is Russell, we’ve been hanging out for a while but he had to go to Europe for work and we haven’t seen each other in a few months. It was never anything serious, kind of a wrong place, wrong time thing. But maybe this time it works. “

“ Oh please, “ Robin exclaims, furiously slamming the pot back into the coffee machine. “ This loser has been stringing you along for far too long now. He’s not worth it. Trust me you can do so much better than him. “

There’s something about the way (Y/N) mood changes, the way she falters, that Bucky doesn’t like. Not even a tiny little bit. It’s a split second, just the whisper of a moment and then she’s back to her joking, bubbly self. But that tiny second is enough. Enough for Bucky to know he never wants to see it again. The doubt and hurt fluttering across her eyes. He’s seen too much hurt in too many eyes. It’s never getting any easier. It just makes him realize how much he hates seeing it in hers.

“ Ignore the crazy lady, he’s not that bad.” (Y/N) tries to reason, though the light and airy tone in her voice doesn’t sound quite as convincing as it usually does.

“ He refuses to put a label on your relationship and he treats you like you’re disposable. “

“ Sounds like a catch, is this the one with the fish picture or the one with the star wars facts? “ Bucky asks, biting off yet another piece of the tooth-achingly sweet cookie.

“ Neither. We met while walking our dogs. He’s nice, really. “

“ Sounds like it. “

“ He is. Robin over there just thinks she’s the expert on romance because she’s about to get married. Don’t believe a thing she says. Her own fairytale romance makes her blind to other people’s romantic struggles. “

Robin shakes her head in disagreement, making her red curls bounce with each motion. “ You’re a big girl, you know what you’re doing. I’m just calling things as I see them. Anyway, I gotta serve table 4.”

Silence falls upon them as Robin leaves to tend to the customers and (Y/N) averts her eyes back towards the countertop.

“ Hey, “ Bucky speaks up, getting (Y/N) to look up and meet his eyes. “ I hope the date turns out well for you, you deserve that. And if it doesn’t, just text me and we can watch another movie or something. “

“ You’d do that for me? “

“ Yeah. Sure. It’s what friends do. We’re friends now — right ? “

(Y/N) smiles “ right!”

And it’s nice, Bucky thinks, to have a friend again. Even though it’s all new and fresh, it feels wonderful. Like a tiny bit of weight has been taken from his shoulders. Like he can take a breath for the first time in a long time.

Joe’s Pizzaria is an American restaurant that tries desperately to trick Americans into thinking it’s an authentic Italian restaurant.

And while it does have a certain undeniable charm, (Y/N) gets a bit tired of chomping down on yet another breadstick while staring at the red and white checkered tablecloth and pretending not to grasp the gravity of the situation. He’s not gonna come. He’s two hours late. Two whole hours. Half a bottle of wine and one salad late. The waiters pity her, it’s painfully obvious. The way they keep checking on her, keep asking if there’s anything they can bring her. Keep filling her breadstick with no upcharge.

Pity, (Y/N) thinks, is her least favorite emotion. It doesn’t do anyone any good and in the end, everyone just feels worse.

A "ping" coming from her phone pulls (Y/N) from her thoughts and for a teeny-tiny second a flicker of hope sparks in her heart that maybe Russell is just late and this is him apologizing and explaining. Maybe she was worth it to him after all.

Then her eyes register the name on the screen and disappointment fills her veins. Does he really not care? Does she really mean so little to him, he doesn't even feel the need to cancel the date? Is this some sick joke?

Bucky's message reads: Hope you're having fun. Did he like the cookies?

It's a weird feeling, to know someone she hasn't known for very long wastes even the smallest thought on her while her date doesn't give a shit. All it does is set into perspective that her blossoming friendship with Bucky is worth any effort it might take.

"Don't ask. Hey, what are you doing right now?"

"Oh, that bad? Not much. Trying to figure out what to have for dinner. Why?"

"How do you feel about spaghetti and meatballs?"

He doesn’t have a couch.

That’s the one thought that spooks around his head as soon as he realizes what he’s just agreed to.

He’s been living here for months and he doesn’t even have a fucking couch.

When (Y/N) asked if she could come around, when she said she’d bring food and asked if her dog could come, he couldn’t say no. Not when she's already been stood up that night. Nevertheless, everything inside him starts twisting up in knots at the thought of opening his home to another person. Home. That’s really the problem now that he thinks about it. This place doesn’t feel like a home. It’s 4 walls and a roof. Nothing has felt like home in a long time.

He invited her over and he doesn’t even have a fucking couch.

There’s a TV and an armchair, a few cupboards, a chair, and a bed he doesn’t sleep in. Sometimes he thinks back to his childhood home, with all his mother's porcelain figurines collecting dust on the shelves and the wall of family pictures. It felt warm and cozy and like it was meant for people to live and learn and grow. It was their own.

This apartment is a box for him to stay at. Nothing here is in any way personal. But how do you make something your own when you don’t even know who you really are? When all you remember are times long gone or times you want to forget.

He snatches the sheets and pillow off the floor and throws them on his bed. He might not be able to get any more furniture in time for (Y/N) to arrive but he sure as hell doesn’t need to let her know that his nightmares don’t allow him to sleep in his own damn bed.

A knock sounds from the front door and for a second, Bucky’s blood turns cold as ice. No one ever talks about how scary it is to let people in. Would it matter to her and their friendship that his apartment is just as empty as he feels inside?

As soon as he opens the door, a fluffy bundle of white and brown fur rushes past him and runs a lap around his living room before settling by his feet, tail wagging and tongue hanging from his mouth.

“ Oh god, sorry. She’s just so excited to meet new people. “

Giving the dog a few pets, Bucky turns back to (Y/N), who gives him one of her signature sunshine smiles as she holds out a paper bag to him. The smell of delicious food reaches Bucky’s nose as he takes the bag from her and ushers her inside.

“ So, Spaghetti? “

“ Yup. And meatballs. “

Bucky nods his head in approval, “ Sounds good to me. “

She smiles at him again but there’s a kind of sadness surrounding her that he wishes he could take away. Whoever that Russell guy is, he’s a damn fool for not showing up.

“ Food’s still warm so if you tell me where your plates are … “ (Y/N) trails off as she really takes in the state of his apartment for the first time since she’s stepped inside. He can basically see the thoughts running through her head, one after the other, none sticking around long enough to form a coherent string of words to express what she’s thinking. He knows she wants to comment, can see it in her eyes. But something is holding her back and he can’t blame her. Their friendship isn’t that deep yet. You don’t ask someone you’ve just gotten friendly with why their apartment is so fucking empty. It’s sad and there are implications there that run deeper than one can see.

So to spare her any more awkward silence, Bucky speaks up again.

“ I uh — I just moved in. Haven’t gotten around to getting much furniture. We can sit by the kitchen counter or you can take the armchair and I’ll take the floor. “

“ That’s fine, we’ll make it work, “ she replies, before turning towards the kitchen cupboards, “ now … plates ?”

“ This is delicious “ Bucky exclaims as he stuffs yet another fork of Spaghetti into his mouth.

Lady, (Y/N)'s Cocker Spaniel, casually lounges on his armchair, eyes always trained on the dishes of pasta, while Bucky and (Y/N) sit on the floor, backs against the wall.

“ Right? I love Meatballs. Last time I was at Joe’s Pizzeria, I was there with Russell and he got real pretentious about not ordering Spaghetti and Meatballs from an Italian restaurant because it wasn’t authentic Italian cuisine. As if I care. It tastes good, that’s all that matters.”

“ Well, he really does sound better with every new thing you tell me about him.”

(Y/N) shrugs and avoids eye contact with him. It’s strange, Bucky thinks, to see her this way. All of her bubbly personality and contagious energy are suddenly drained from her. Like someone squeezed her too tightly and pushed all the joy out.

“ Yeah he’s an asshole, I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess whatever we had going on just felt familiar and sometimes going back to something you know, even though it’s bad for you, is easier than opening yourself to something new. “

“ Wow, my therapist would love you. That sounded so smart.”

“ It did, didn’t it?,” (Y/N) says and lets out a little chuckle. It’s nice to hear her laugh even though it doesn’t hold the radiance, the pure happiness it usually does.

“She gave me some homework.”

(Y/N) looks at Bucky between bites, raising an eyebrow in intrigue. “ She did? “

“ Mmmh. I told her about you and our friendship and she thought that, because you know a lot about me, I should learn some things about you. “

(Y/N) quickly swallows the pasta before placing both her hands over her heart and staring at Bucky with an expression he can’t entirely read. There’s a glimmer of mischief in her eyes but there’s more, he just needs to figure out what exactly it is.

“ You talk to your therapist about me? Awww. That’s how you know a friendship is worthwhile. When they mention you to their therapist, that’s when you know it’s real. “

“ Aw man, now you’re just making fun of me. I take it all back. “

“ No! No, Bucky. I think that’s very sweet and it makes me feel important,” there’s a sincerity in her eyes that makes him feel a little weird. Not a bad weird. Just — different. He didn’t think this was gonna be such a big deal to her. And while he still feels extremely self-conscious about it all, he’s a little glad that he mentioned her to Dr. Reynor. Maybe it would do both of them some good, him and (Y/N).

“ It’s nice that our new friendship matters enough for you to mention it to her. Getting stood up by Russell felt like a punch in the guts. It made me feel incredibly inadequate and like I wasn’t worth enough for him to text me let alone show up. Knowing that there’s someone who thinks about me every once in a while, that’s a nice feeling. Least my friends think I’m worth it. "

Hearing those words fall from her lips sends a wave of anger and disbelief through Bucky. (Y/N) is the first person in a long while that makes him feel like he can figure out who he is and who he was and not feel guilty about it. To think she feels inadequate or like she's not good enough is just unbelievable to him.

"Just forget about that guy, he's clearly an idiot. You deserve someone who shows up. When it matters and even when it doesn't. "

"He didn't even get to try my cookies. I worked so hard on them."

"What? Oh my god, okay see - he's a damn fool. Those cookies were - so sweet. His loss, really."

(Y/N)'s laughter echoes through the halls of his empty apartment and Bucky thinks that maybe that was one of the things missing from this place to really make it a home. Emotions. Laughter and joy. Something other than fear and regret. Something other than pain.

“ Bucky, you’re so nice but you don’t have to lie. I know the cookies weren’t all that great. “

“ No! They were good, they were just — very sweet. And you know what? You deserve a guy who eats them anyway.”

She doesn’t give him a reply to that comment and maybe it doesn’t ask for one either. Some statements don’t need answers, they just are.

“ Hey, do you want my last meatball? “ he asks, and at her smile and enthusiastic nod, he rolls it from his plate onto hers.

“ Now what movie did you bring? “

“ Oh boy, “ (Y/N) proclaims and looks at Bucky with an unwavering excitement “ you’re in for a wild ride. Tonight we’re doing a double feature.”

“ Bringing the big guns, huh? “

“ You have no idea. Tonight we’re watching Grease 1 and 2. “

Two couples stare back at Bucky from the bubblegum-colored DVD case (Y/N) pulls from her purse. Something about the bright colors and the over-the-top hairstyles makes Bucky think that these movies won’t be the absolute pinnacle of sophisticated filmmaking.

“ What’s the lesson this time?“

“ Eh, “ (Y/N) says and shrugs “ when I was younger I thought it was meant to teach you that if you want to be with someone you can overcome any obstacle. No matter how different you seem or what other people might think. Now that I’m an adult I think it’s just about the 50s aesthetic and the killer musical number. “

“ Musical numbers? “

“ Mmmh. And well, the second one is pure garbage but it’s so bad it’s good. It also helps that Michelle Pfeiffer and Maxwell Caulfield look absolutely gorgeous in this film. “

“ So this isn’t gonna help me with my romance skills then? “

(Y/N) regards him for a second, purses her lips, and taps the side of her face as she thinks about her answer. “ I mean, the second movie is basically about how cool men who ride motorcycles are. Do you ride a motorcycle? “

“ I do actually. “

“ What? Oh, you just got 10 times cooler. One could say you’re a — cool rider.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrow in confusion.

“ Don’t worry, Grumpy. You’ll get the reference later.”

“ If I’m Grumpy, which of the 7 dwarves are you? “

“ Sleepy? “

“ Dopey? “

“ No. How about Happy ?”

It’s meant to be silly, just a joke really, but Bucky can’t help but think that it fits her. Even when she’s sad, there’s an infinite positivity in her eyes, an aura of joy and happiness and being around her is just so easy.

“ You know what? I think that’s the one. “

“ I like it. Now — let me introduce you to the students of Rydell High.”

“ What in the world did you just make me watch? “ Bucky asks as the end credits to Grease 2 roll across the tv screen. Lady is snuggled up in his lap and his right hand lazily combs through her soft fur.

“ Two absolute masterpieces. “

“ In the first one they flew away in a car. And that second one, I don’t even know what to say.”

“ Because it was so good? “

“ Mmmmh no. That's not why. “

"Oh please, you can admit you l-" a big yawn interrupts her words and Bucky notices just how tired she looks right then.

"You're tired." It's not a question, more an observation.

"Mmmh Lady and I should probably head out."

He doesn't want her to leave. Disappointment, it's a feeling he knows very well, it's familiar and almost comfortable. Usually, though, that disappointment is directed towards himself. A lovely dose of self-deprecation. This time it's different. This time he's disappointed about the situation. About the prospect of being alone again. Alone in his empty box of an apartment.

The anxiety of letting someone in is slowly being overshadowed by his fear of being alone again. With his thoughts and his failures and the images of all the faces that have ever looked at him in fear.

"You can stay"

"Bucky … you don't have a couch. Where would I sleep?"

"Bed," he says as if it's the most obvious of all answers ever given.

"Grumpy, I'm not taking your bed."

"I'm not sleeping there anyway."

"Why?"

Her eyes are so soft and gentle as the question tumbles from her lips. So full of concern. For him. Concern and care, for him. It's not like he deserves it but it's a nice feeling either way.

"It's too soft."

It's painfully obvious that she knows there's more to it, that his words hold more gravity and weight than just that simple fact.

She doesn’t push it though and for that Bucky is eternally grateful. Sure, talking to her is easy and it helps him in some way or another. But this, his nightmares and his trauma and the faces that won't leave his thoughts, that haunt him as soon as he falls asleep, that's a can of worms he's not ready to open yet.

"Where do you sleep?"

"Floor."

"Oh, Grumpy. Hey uh - how about we both stay on the floor? You're in luck too because I also have a live version of Grease the musical we can watch."

He doesn't necessarily want to watch another movie where they sing pretty much every two minutes but if it means she'll stay, he'll do it. 

" Okay then."

"Okay."

That night, Bucky sleeps on the floor just like he does every night only this time there's a friend with him just a few meters away , close enough but not suffocating, and a dog resting on his chest, softly breathing gentle breaths.

That night Bucky sleeps on the floor just like he does every night only this night, there are no nightmares.

Taglist // If you want to be added or taken off just message me //:

@zaynzierulez - @je-like-you - @dracoxxyoflam​ - @jackiehollanderr​ - @majo240820 - @kay-gilles - @booksb4looksstuff - @jckie94 - 

[bolintheturtleduck]

Song Ranking

So I did that song ranking thing and it took HOURS. literal HOURS. Don’t ever do it, I won’t even link it. I hated doing it. But here is my list. And dare I say my Top 130 is immaculate hjgkhg

Some of this is not really accurate though. Could be me or the generator. Like ‘Cold Hearted’ being 500 something???? Not in my house. 

Also don’t go looking for christmas songs. They are all somewhere down there lmao

Anyways! Let’s go!

1 Nasty / Rhythm Nation

1 Rumour Has It / Someone Like You

3 Be Okay

4 Love You Like A Love Song

4 Seasons Of Love

6 Mustang Sally

7 So Emotional

8 Tightrope

9 Barely Breathing

10 Cough Syrup

11 Shake It Out

11 The Boy Is Mine

13 Back To Black

14 Valerie

15 Paradise By The Dashboard Light

16 River Deep, Mountain High

17 Problem

18 Faithfully

19 Gloria

20 I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

21 How Will I Know

22 We Are Young

23 How To Be A Heartbreaker

24 Hand In My Pocket / I Feel The Earth Move

25 If I Die Young

26 I Feel Pretty / Unpretty

27 Bust Your Windows

28 Candyman

29 American Boy

30 I Can't Go For That (No Can Do) / You Make My Dreams

31 If I Can't Have You

32 It's All Coming Back To Me Now

33 Crazy / U Drive Me Crazy

34 ABC

35 Bad Romance

36 It's Too Late

37 Hungry Like The Wolf / Rio

38 I Wish

39 Need You Now

40 Landslide

41 Start Me Up / Livin' On A Prayer

42 Thriller / Heads Will Roll

43 What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)

44 There Are Worse Things I Could Do

45 Losing My Religion

46 The Edge Of Glory

47 Teenage Dream (Acoustic Version)

48 Make You Feel My Love

49 My Prerogative

50 Singing In The Rain / Umbrella

51 Songbird

52 Spotlight

53 Mine

54 Take Me Or Leave Me

55 Take Me To Church

56 No Surrender

57 Never Say Never

58 Constant Craving

59 Brave

60 Born This Way

61 Pumpin' Blood

62 Blame It (On The Alcohol)

63 Glad You Came

64 Give Your Heart A Break

65 It's All Over

66 It's Not Right, But It's Okay

67 Everybody Talks

68 Here Comes The Sun

69 Into The Groove

70 In Your Eyes

71 I Don't Want To Know

72 I Lived

73 I Kissed A Girl

74 Halo / Walking On Sunshine

75 You Can't Stop The Beat

76 She's Not There

77 Nutbush City Limits

78 True Colors

79 Can't Fight This Feeling

80 Breakaway

81 Dancing Queen

82 Don't Stop Me Now

83 And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going

84 Empire State Of Mind

85 Doo Wop (That Thing)

86 Arthur's Theme

87 Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy

88 Toxic

89 This Is The New Year

90 Last Name

91 3

92 A Change Would Do You Good

93 Got To Get You Into My Life

94 Tongue Tied

95 Smooth Criminal

96 Papa Don't Preach

97 Animal

97 Another One Bites The Dust

99 Don't Speak

100 Don't You Want Me

101 A Hard Day's Night

102 Some Nights

103 Somebody That I Used To Know

104 Superstition

105 Survivor / I Will Survive

106 My Life Would Suck Without You

107 The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

108 Misery

109 My Love Is Your Love

110 Somewhere Only We Know

111 Blow Me (One Last Kiss)

112 Me Against The Music

113 I Follow Rivers

114 Mean

115 Here's To Us

116 Stronger

117 Summer Nights

118 Make No Mistake, She's Mine

119 Love Song

120 Waiting For A Girl Like You

121 We Got The Beat

122 We Found Love

123 We've Got Tonite

124 Love Shack

125 The Scientist

126 Love Is A Battlefield

127 Run Joey Run

128 Wings

129 When I Get You Alone

130 Uptown Girl

131 Roots Before Branches

132 I'm The Only One

132 I've Gotta Be Me

134 Hopelessly Devoted To You

135 Hit Me With Your Best Shot / One Way Or Another

136 Dinosaur

137 Dog Days Are Over

138 Hung Up

139 Everytime

140 Go Your Own Way

141 Every Breath You Take

142 Fire And Rain

143 Fighter

144 Not While I'm Around

145 Not The Boy Next Door

146 Fly / I Believe I Can Fly

147 Girl On Fire

148 Oops!... I Did It Again

149 Stop! In The Name Of Love / Free Your Mind

150 Stereo Hearts

151 Bills, Bills, Bills

152 Somebody Loves You

153 Hold It Against Me

154 Turning Tables

155 Wide Awake

156 You May Be Right

157 Cell Block Tango

158 A Boy Like That

159 All Out Of Love

160 Alfie

161 Jessie's Girl

162 I'm A Slave 4 U

163 I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

164 I'll Stand By You (Amber)

165 I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)

166 Let Me Love You (Until You Learn To Love Yourself)

167 Lovefool

168 Just Can't Get Enough

169 Just Give Me A Reason

170 Keep Holding On

171 Like A Virgin

172 New York State Of Mind

173 My Dark Side

174 More Than A Feeling

174 My Cup

176 I Want To Hold Your Hand

177 I Want To Break Free

178 I Want To Know What Love Is

179 I Want You Back

180 Teenage Dream

181 Take My Breath Away

182 America

183 Glory Days

184 I Say A Little Prayer

184 I Wanna Sex You Up

186 I Will Always Love You

187 A Thousand Years

188 Like A Prayer

189 Don't Rain On My Parade

190 Disco Inferno

191 Don't Stop Believin' (Regionals)

192 Dream On

193 Get It Right

194 Gold Digger

195 Telephone

196 Without You

197 You're The One That I Want

198 Tell Him

199 Let Me Love You

200 Good Vibrations

200 Raise Your Glass

202 Run The World (Girls)

203 Gimme More

204 Hey Jude

204 How Deep Is Your Love

206 Higher Ground

207 Vogue

208 Something's Coming

209 Footloose

210 Forget You

211 Gives You Hell

212 Everybody Wants To Rule The World

213 Far From Over

214 Fat Bottomed Girls

215 Hair / Crazy In Love

216 Hall Of Fame

216 Hello

216 Hello, I Love You

216 Somebody To Love

216 Time Warp

216 To Love You More

222 Last Friday Night

223 Hate On Me

224 Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'

225 Locked Out Of Heaven

226 Rose's Turn

227 Everybody Hurts

227 Express Yourself

227 Loser

227 Shout It Out Loud

231 Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours

232 Pompeii

233 Party All The Time

234 Our Day Will Come

235 Perfect

236 Old Time Rock & Roll / Danger Zone

237 Greased Lightning

237 Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

237 Live While We're Young

240 Firework

240 Love Child

242 Fire

243 You're All I Need To Get By

244 The Scientist (Acapella)

245 Afternoon Delight

246 Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)

247 Listen To Your Heart

248 Tik Tok

249 You Keep Me Hangin' On

250 The Rose

251 You Can't Always Get What You

Want

252 Let's Have A Kiki

252 Listen

254 Pretending

255 More Than A Woman

256 More Than Words

257 Hot For Teacher

257 No One Is Alone

257 Not The End

257 Nowadays / Hot Honey Rag 257 O Christmas Tree

257 One Hand, One Heart

257 One

257 Only Child

257 Proud Mary

266 Heroes

267 Hey Ya!

268 Getting Married Today

268 Happy

270 Hell To The No

271 Night Fever

271 Sgt. Pepper's Lonley Hearts Club

Band

273 The Music Of The Night

273 The Only Exception 273 The Rain In Spain 273 The Safety Dance 273 Thousand Miles 278 Billionaire

278 God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 278 The Happening

278 The Lady Is A Tramp

282 Borderline / Open Your Heart 282 Born To Hand Jive

284 Control

284 The Longest Time

286 Give Up The Funk

287 Chasing Pavements

288 Man In The Mirror

288 Say

288 Sexy And I Know It 288 Shout

292 Marry The Night

293 Mamma Mia

294 Loser Like Me

295 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 1)

296 Colorblind

297 Diva

297 Don't Cry For Me Argentina

299 Don't Dream It's Over

300 Let It Be

301 Don't Stop

302 Highway To Hell

302 Hold On

302 Holding Out For A Hero 302 We Will Rock You

302 What I Did For Love

302 What It Feels Like For A Girl

308 Take On Me

309 For Once In My Life

309 Good Riddance (Time Of Your

Life)

309 Hello Goodbye

309 Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love

309 Home

309 Homeward Bound / Home 309 Honesty

309 Human Nature

317 Drive My Car

317 For Good

317 I'll Remember

320 I'll Stand By You (Cory)

321 On My Own

321 Taking Chances

321 The Bitch Is Back / Dress You Up 321 Werewolves Of London

325 My Man

326 My Life

327 My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)

327 Never Going Back Again 327 No Scrubs

330 Creep

331 Come What May

332 Never Can Say Goodbye

333 Who Are You Now?

334 You Give Love A Bad Name

335 Womanizer

336 Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

337 Come See About Me

337 P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) 337 People

337 Popular

337 River

337 Roar

337 Rolling In The Deep 337 Santa Baby

345 Boogie Shoes

346 At Last

347 I'm The Greatest Star

348 Jar Of Hearts

349 It's Time

350 It's My Life / Confessions Part II

351 It's Not Unusual

352 I'm So Excited

352 I'm Still Here

354 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 5) 354 Don't You (Forget About Me) 354 Dreams

354 Unchained Melody

354 Uptown Funk

359 Bohemian Rhapsody

359 Don't Stop Believin' (Rachel) 359 Lucky

362 Don't Stand So Close To Me /

Young Girl

363 Bridge Over Troubled Water

363 Bust A Move

365 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee

366 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee

(Reprise)

367 Longest Time

368 Applause

369 All Of Me

370 Any Way You Want It

370 Anything Could Happen

372 Red Solo Cup

372 Rock Lobster

372 Rockin' Around The Christmas

Tree 372 Rockstar

376 Saving All My Love For You

377 (I've Had) The Time Of My Life

377 Piano Man 377 Poison 377 Poker Face

381 A House Is Not A Home

382 4 Minutes

383 Black Or White

384 Blackbird

385 All By Myself

385 Smile

385 You Make Me Feel So Young

388 Wrecking Ball

389 (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural

Woman

389 (You're) Having My Baby

391 Superman

392 Ain't No Way

392 Stayin' Alive

394 Still Got Tonight

394 The Most Wonderful Day Of The

Year

394 The Way You Look Tonight / You're Never Fully Dressed Without A

Smile 394 This Time

394 Whatever Happened To Saturday Night?

399 They Long To Be Close To You

400 All About That Bass 400 Sing!

400 So Far Away

400 Some People

404 Addicted To Love

404 Moves Like Jagger / Jumpin' Jack Flash

404 Sing

404 Someday We'll Be Together 404 Somethin' Stupid

404 Something

404 Somewhere

404 Stand

412 Scream

413 Rather Be

414 Next To Me

414 No Air

414 Papa Can You Hear Me? 414 Physical

414 Piece Of My Heart

414 Pinball Wizard

414 Pony

414 Rehab

422 La Isla Bonita

422 Lean On Me

422 Let's Wait Awhile

422 Little Drummer Boy

422 Little Girls

427 Light Up The World

428 Science Fiction Double Feature

428 Silent Night 428 Silly Love Songs

431 Le Jazz Hot

432 Out Here On My Own

432 Pure Imagination

434 School's Out

435 Hey, Soul Sister

435 I Kissed A Girl (Season Six) 435 Sway

438 I Believe In A Thing Called Love

439 I Have Nothing

440 I Am Changing

441 I Saw Her Standing There

441 I Was Here

441 I Won't Give Up

441 I'll Be Home For Christmas 441 I'll Never Fall In Love Again 446 Funny Girl

446 I Look To You

446 I Only Have Eyes For You 446 I Still Believe / Super Bass 446 Story Of My Life

451 I Love New York / New York, New

York

452 What Makes You Beautiful

453 What The World Needs Now

454 An Innocent Man

454 Bad

454 Because You Loved Me

454 Bein' Green

454 ByeByeBye/IWantItThatWay 454 IfIWereABoy

454 Take A Bow

454 Take Me Home Tonight

462 Barracuda

463 Beauty School Drop Out

464 Chandelier

465 Baby It's You

466 It Must Have Been Love

467 At The Ballet

468 Baby One More Time

469 Beautiful

469 Being Alive

469 We Built This City

472 Being Good Isn't Good Enough 472 I Just Can't Stop Loving You 472 I Love It

472 Isn't She Lovely

476 All That Jazz

476 Blurred Lines

476 Bootylicious

476 Extraordinary Merry Christmas 476 Father Figure

476 Fight For Your Right (To Party)

476 Flashdance... What A Feeling

483 I Don't Know How To Love Him

484 Fix You

484 I Could Have Danced All Night 486 Push It

486 Rainbow Connection 486 Rise

489 Promises, Promises

490 Oh Chanukah

490 Ohio

490 One Love (People Get Ready) 490 Only The Good Die Young 494 Baby

494 Dancing With Myself

494 Defying Gravity

497 Baby, It's Cold Outside

498 Cherish / Cherish

498 Christmas Wrapping 498 Closer

498 Downtown

498 Endless Love

498 Forever Young

498 Friday I'm In Love 498 Friday

498 Gangnam Style

498 Get Back

498 Safety Dance

509 Cold Hearted

510 Clarity

511 Centerfold / Hot In Herre

511 Just The Way You Are 513 Jumpin', Jumpin'

513 Kiss

515 Juke Box Hero

515 L-O-V-E

517 Jolene

518 Jump

518 La Cucaracha

520 Dream A Little Dream

521 A Little Less Conversation

521 Beth

521 Bitch

521 Don't Sleep In The Subway 521 Girls Just Want To Have Fun 521 Have Yourself A Merry Little

Christmas 521 Help!

521 I Dreamed A Dream 521 I'm His Child

521 I'm Still Standing 521 Ice Ice Baby

521 Imagine

521 In My Life

521 It's A Man's Man's Man's World 521 Lose My Breath

521 Memory

521 Outcast

521 Over The Rainbow

521 Same Love

521 Santa Claus Is Coming To Town 521 Teach Your Children

521 Tell Me Something Good

521 The Final Countdown

521 Uptight (Everything's Alright) 545 Big Ass Heart

545 I Love L.A.

545 I Melt With You

548 Big Girls Don't Cry

548 Mary's Boy Child

548 O Holy Night

548 On Our Way

548 One Bourbon, One Scotch, One

Beer

548 One Less Bell To Answer

554 Maybe This Time 554 My Favourite Things 554 My Sharona

557 Marry You

558 Cool

559 Cool Kids

560 Celebrity Skin

560 Cheek To Cheek

560 Dance The Night Away

560 Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend / Material Girl

560 Don't Go Breaking My Heart 560 Don't Wanna Lose You

560 Feliz Navidad

560 Here Comes Santa Claus 560 I Know What Boys Like

560 I Know Where I've Been 560 Trouty Mouth

571 Total Eclipse Of The Heart

572 Don't Make Me Over

573 Call Me Maybe

574 We Are The Champions

575 Time After Time

576 Bring Him Home

576 Broadway Baby 576 Buenos Aires 576 Burning Up 576 Yesterday

581 Boys / Boyfriend

582 Mercy

582 You Get What You Give

582 You Have More Friends Than You

Know

582 You Learn / You've Got A Friend

582 You Should Be Dancing

582 You're All The World To Me 582 You're My Best Friend

582 You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' 590 Break Free

590 Jingle Bell Rock 590 Jingle Bells

590 Joy To The World 590 One Of Us

590 Tonight

590 You're The Top

590 You've Got To Hide Your Love

Away

590 Your Song

599 To Sir, With Love

600 Torn

601 Wake Me Up

601 Wannabe

601 Wedding Bell Blues

604 Touch A Touch A Touch A Touch Me

604 UpUpUp

606 All Or Nothing

606 Alone

606 Cry

606 Leaving On A Jet Plane

606 Let It Go

606 Mickey

606 Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) 606 Mr. Roboto / Counting Stars 606 Try A Little Tenderness

606 U Can't Touch This

606 Uninvited

606 Vacation

606 Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' 606 What Kind Of Fool

606 Whistle

606 Will You Love Me Tomorrow /

Head Over Feet 606 Wishin' And Hoping

606 YouAndI/YouAndI

624 Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?

624 Do You Hear What I Hear? 624 Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh

Yeah)

624 Lucky Star

624 Merry Christmas Darling 629 Damn It, Janet

629 Danny's Song

629 Daydream Believer

629 Deck The Rooftop

629 Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead 634 All I Want For Christmas Is You 634 Angels We Have Heard On High 634 Anything Goes / Anything You Can

Do

634 As If We Never Said Goodbye

634 As Long As You're There 634 Bamboleo / Hero

634 Bella Notte

634 Copacabana

634 Do They Know It's Christmas? 634 Last Christmas

634 Let It Snow

634 We Need A Little Christmas

634 Welcome Christmas

634 Whenever I Call You Friend

634 Whip It

634 You Are The Sunshine Of My Life

650 All You Need Is Love

651 Americano / Dance Again

652 Crush

653 Big Spender

653 Make 'Em Laugh

653 White Christmas

653 Yeah!

657 (Charlie Chaplin song)

657 (originally by Michael Bublé) 657 Away In A Manger

657 Baby Got Back

657 Christmas Eve With You 657 Come Sail Away

657 You Are Woman, I Am Man 657 You Spin Me Round (Like A

Record)

665 You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

666 Starlight Express

666 The Trolley Song

666 The Winner Takes It All

666 There's A Light (Over At The

Frankenstein Place) 670 Take Care Of Yourself

671 Sweet Caroline

672 Ben

672 Best Day Of My Life 672 Blue Christmas

672 Candles

676 Starships

676 Suddenly Seymour 676 Sweet Transvestite

679 Thong Song

680 The Fox (What Does The Fox

Say?)

680 The Living Years

682 The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)

682 The First Noël

[angelhummel]

once again i spent hours of my life answering >5000 questions in order to sort almost all of the glee songs ever (there’s 683 songs in the sorter when there’s over 700 on the show) anyway if you wanna see my rankings for those then check it out <3 [also here’s the sorter!]

1 Being Alive 2 Rose's Turn 3 Baby, It's Cold Outside 4 Le Jazz Hot 5 Maybe This Time 6 And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going 7 Come What May 8 To Sir, With Love 9 As If We Never Said Goodbye 10 Valerie 11 Somewhere Only We Know 12 Cough Syrup 13 Teenage Dream 14 Not The Boy Next Door 15 It's Too Late 16 It's My Life / Confessions Part II 17 Start Me Up / Livin' On A Prayer 18 When I Get You Alone 19 The Happening 20 The Boy Is Mine 21 Home 22 Don't You Want Me 23 How Will I Know 24 Bad Romance 25 Not While I'm Around 26 Scream 27 Shake It Out 28 On My Own 29 Hate On Me 30 Bills, Bills, Bills 31 4 Minutes 32 True Colors 33 There Are Worse Things I Could Do 34 Go Your Own Way 35 Jessie's Girl 36 Proud Mary 37 Tongue Tied 38 Last Christmas 39 Somebody Loves You 40 Back To Black 41 Sweet Transvestite 42 For Good 43 At The Ballet 44 Gloria 45 Blame It (On The Alcohol) 46 Like A Prayer 47 So Emotional 48 Misery 49 Nasty / Rhythm Nation 50 Toxic 51 Don't Speak 52 Born This Way 53 Dog Days Are Over 54 Defying Gravity 55 Last Name 56 Womanizer 57 I Will Always Love You 58 Broadway Baby 59 The Lady Is A Tramp 60 I'm A Slave 4 U 61 Centerfold / Hot In Herre 62 Thriller / Heads Will Roll 63 Bust Your Windows 64 Candyman 65 Brave 66 Boys / Boyfriend 67 The Scientist 68 The Scientist (Acapella) 69 Dream On 70 Hey Jude 71 I Lived 72 I'm Still Here 73 I Believe In A Thing Called Love 74 Me Against The Music 75 Like A Virgin 76 My Man 77 Everybody Wants To Rule The World 78 I Have Nothing 79 Blackbird 80 Got To Get You Into My Life 81 Animal 82 3 83 I Follow Rivers 84 Just The Way You Are 85 Constant Craving 86 Don't Stop Me Now 87 Hung Up 88 Let's Have A Kiki 89 Love Shack 90 Marry The Night 91 Hit Me With Your Best Shot / One Way Or Another 92 It's Not Right, But It's Okay 93 I Want To Hold Your Hand 94 All You Need Is Love 95 Getting Married Today 96 Don't Rain On My Parade 97 Don't Stop Believin' (Regionals) 98 We've Got Tonite 99 Smooth Criminal 100 Uptown Girl 101 Sway 102 If I Die Young 103 No One Is Alone 104 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee 105 No Scrubs 106 Mamma Mia 107 Papa Don't Preach 108 Teenage Dream (Acoustic Version) 109 Santa Baby 110 We Found Love 111 Roar 112 She's Not There 113 Spotlight 114 The Way You Look Tonight/You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile 115 Some Nights 116 Rumour Has It / Someone Like You 117 You Make Me Feel So Young 118 You Keep Me Hangin' On 119 I'll Stand By You (Amber) 120 Hand In My Pocket / I Feel The Earth Move 121 Crazy / U Drive Me Crazy 122 Funny Girl 123 Cold Hearted 124 Keep Holding On 125 Bye Bye Bye / I Want It That Way 126 I Know Where I've Been 127 I Kissed A Girl (Season Six) 128 Hopelessly Devoted To You 129 Homeward Bound / Home 130 Into The Groove 131 Hold On 132 Tell Him 133 Nutbush City Limits 134 Because You Loved Me 135 Perfect 136 Cherish / Cherish 137 Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah) 138 Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead 139 You Are The Sunshine Of My Life 140 Tik Tok 141 The Safety Dance 142 Oops!... I Did It Again 143 Run Joey Run 144 Time Warp 145 Something's Coming 146 Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go 147 The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face 148 Vogue 149 Downtown 150 Diva 151 Dancing With Myself 152 Rockstar 153 Wrecking Ball 154 We Are Young 155 I Saw Her Standing There 156 Jumpin', Jumpin' 157 Just Can't Get Enough 158 Take Me To Church 159 Wannabe 160 It's All Over 161 Take Me Home Tonight 162 If I Were A Boy 163 Landslide 164 Pompeii 165 The Bitch Is Back / Dress You Up 166 Christmas Wrapping 167 Buenos Aires 168 Call Me Maybe 169 You Can't Stop The Beat 170 Seasons Of Love 171 Safety Dance 172 Dream A Little Dream 173 Alfie 174 I Want To Break Free 175 Baby One More Time 176 A House Is Not A Home 177 Daydream Believer 178 I Don't Know How To Love Him 179 Hungry Like The Wolf / Rio 180 Suddenly Seymour 181 People 182 Silly Love Songs 183 Love Song 184 Shout It Out Loud 185 Some People 186 One Of Us 187 Sing! 188 Up Up Up 189 Torn 190 Popular 191 This Is The New Year 192 Paradise By The Dashboard Light 193 Let It Snow 194 Let It Be 195 Never Can Say Goodbye 196 Touch A Touch A Touch A Touch Me 197 La Isla Bonita 198 Tightrope 199 My Love Is Your Love 200 Love Is A Battlefield 201 Losing My Religion 202 Total Eclipse Of The Heart 203 This Time 204 I Dreamed A Dream 205 Leaving On A Jet Plane 206 Locked Out Of Heaven 207 Chandelier 208 Girl On Fire 209 Telephone 210 Don't Cry For Me Argentina 211 Human Nature 212 Halo / Walking On Sunshine 213 Anything Goes / Anything You Can Do 214 Make You Feel My Love 215 Stronger 216 Nowadays / Hot Honey Rag 216 Pumpin' Blood 218 Papa Can You Hear Me? 219 Summer Nights 220 Sweet Caroline 221 Superstition 222 We Will Rock You 223 Alone 224 Hello, I Love You 225 Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now) 226 A Hard Day's Night 227 Mine 228 My Prerogative 229 Beauty School Drop Out 230 My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It) 231 Extraordinary Merry Christmas 232 Every Breath You Take 233 Express Yourself 234 Everybody Talks 235 Everytime 236 Marry You 237 Moves Like Jagger / Jumpin' Jack Flash 238 My Favorite Things 239 Santa Claus Is Coming To Town 240 River Deep, Mountain High 241 My Life Would Suck Without You 242 Be Okay 243 Applause 244 Cool 245 All I Want For Christmas Is You 246 American Boy 247 Cell Block Tango 248 Breakaway 249 Don't Dream It's Over 250 Let Me Love You (Until You Learn To Love Yourself) 251 Whatever Happened To Saturday Night? 252 Without You 253 Science Fiction Double Feature 254 Loser Like Me 255 I Kissed A Girl 256 I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You 257 I Can't Go For That (No Can Do) / You Make My Dreams 258 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 5) 259 Empire State Of Mind 260 Old Time Rock & Roll / Danger Zone 261 Take My Breath Away 262 You Get What You Give 263 Take On Me 264 Beautiful 265 It's Time 266 ABC 267 Afternoon Delight 268 Don't Stand So Close To Me / Young Girl 269 Don't Stop Believin' (Season 1) 270 Colorblind 271 Cool Kids 272 Dancing Queen 273 Songbird 274 Somebody That I Used To Know 275 Singing In The Rain / Umbrella 276 I Feel Pretty / Unpretty 277 Borderline / Open Your Heart 278 In My Life 279 I'm Still Standing 280 Blow Me (One Last Kiss) 281 Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? 282 Do They Know It's Christmas? 283 Mustang Sally 284 Pinball Wizard 285 Anything Could Happen 286 America 287 Any Way You Want It 288 Higher Ground 289 Flashdance... What A Feeling 290 My Life 291 Let It Go 292 If I Can't Have You 293 L-O-V-E 294 Closer 295 Addicted To Love 296 Heroes 297 A Boy Like That 298 Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend / Material Girl 299 Holding Out For A Hero 300 Dinosaur 301 Disco Inferno 302 Party All The Time 303 Raise Your Glass 304 Push It 305 Lean On Me 306 Pure Imagination 307 Lovefool 308 Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' 309 Americano / Dance Again 310 All Of Me 311 At Last 312 Promises, Promises 313 Hair / Crazy In Love 314 Happy Xmas (War Is Over) 315 Chasing Pavements 316 Don't You (Forget About Me) 317 Love Child 318 School's Out 319 Poker Face 320 Boogie Shoes 321 Bootylicious 322 I Love New York / New York, New York 323 One Less Bell To Answer 324 Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours 325 Rehab 326 I Don't Want To Know 327 Shout 328 I'm The Greatest Star 329 I Love It 330 Never Say Never 331 Juke Box Hero 332 One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer 333 Glad You Came 334 For Once In My Life 335 Here Comes The Sun 336 Baby It's You 337 Drive My Car 338 Last Friday Night 339 Roots Before Branches 340 The Only Exception 341 Survivor / I Will Survive 342 All Or Nothing 343 Time After Time 344 You're The One That I Want 345 Yeah! 346 Starships 347 You've Got To Hide Your Love Away 348 Story Of My Life 349 Something 350 We Need A Little Christmas 351 Gold Digger 352 Beth 353 Fighter 354 Forget You 355 How To Be A Heartbreaker 356 Get Back 357 Love You Like A Love Song 358 There's A Light (Over At The Frankenstein Place) 359 We Got The Beat 360 Make 'Em Laugh 361 Sing 362 U Can't Touch This 363 Try A Little Tenderness 364 Pony 365 On Our Way 366 Lucky Star 367 Loser 368 Over The Rainbow 369 Outcast 370 Stop! In The Name Of Love / Free Your Mind 371 What Makes You Beautiful 372 Will You Love Me Tomorrow / Head Over Feet 373 Wide Awake 374 Wishin' And Hoping 375 Yesterday 376 Out Here On My Own 377 You're All The World To Me 378 Somethin' Stupid 379 Someday We'll Be Together 380 River 381 The Longest Time 382 Somebody To Love 383 The Edge Of Glory 384 The Most Wonderful Day Of The Year 385 Lucky 386 Memory 387 Mary's Boy Child 388 Longest Time 389 My Dark Side 390 Taking Chances 391 The First Noël 392 Smile 393 Celebrity Skin 394 All That Jazz 395 A Thousand Years 396 Big Girls Don't Cry 397 Ain't No Way 398 Don't Sleep In The Subway 399 Doo Wop (That Thing) 400 Don't Stop 401 Uptight (Everything's Alright) 402 New York State Of Mind 403 Turning Tables 404 Vacation 405 Fire 406 Hold It Against Me 407 I've Gotta Be Me 408 Endless Love 409 Run The World (Girls) 410 Saving All My Love For You 411 Give Up The Funk 412 I Am Changing 413 I Melt With You 414 I Could Have Danced All Night 415 Fat Bottomed Girls 416 Hot For Teacher 417 Never Going Back Again 418 Imagine 419 Jolene 420 Arthur's Theme 421 Damn It, Janet 422 Control 423 Barracuda 424 Copacabana 425 Barely Breathing 426 I Look To You 427 Come Sail Away 428 Jump 429 Clarity 430 Friday I'm In Love 431 Jar Of Hearts 432 It's Not Unusual 433 Footloose 434 Here Comes Santa Claus 435 Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy 436 Help! 437 Greased Lightning 438 Hell To The No 439 All Out Of Love 440 (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman 441 Candles 442 All By Myself 443 Hello Goodbye 444 It's A Man's Man's Man's World 445 I Say A Little Prayer 446 It Must Have Been Love 447 Just Give Me A Reason 448 Come See About Me 449 Born To Hand Jive 450 I Want To Know What Love Is 451 I Wish 452 I'll Remember 453 Get It Right 454 (I've Had) The Time Of My Life 455 I'll Stand By You (Cory) 456 Forever Young 457 A Change Would Do You Good 458 Smile (Charlie Chaplin song) 459 Best Day Of My Life 460 An Innocent Man 461 Dreams 462 All About That Bass 463 Home (originally by Michael Bublé) 464 Black Or White 465 Baby 466 Bad 467 Problem 468 Oh Chanukah 469 What Kind Of Fool 470 Wings 471 You're My Best Friend 472 You're All I Need To Get By 473 White Christmas 474 Whenever I Call You Friend 475 Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' 476 What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger) 477 Wedding Bell Blues 478 More Than A Feeling 479 More Than A Woman 480 Our Day Will Come 481 P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) 482 Here's To Us 483 Honesty 484 Hall Of Fame 485 It's All Coming Back To Me Now 486 Teach Your Children 487 Night Fever 488 What The World Needs Now 489 Listen 490 Let Me Love You 491 Live While We're Young 492 Light Up The World 493 Trouty Mouth 494 Werewolves Of London 495 Kiss 496 Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 497 Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) 498 Mickey 499 Mean 500 Mercy 501 Merry Christmas Darling 502 Let's Wait Awhile 503 Man In The Mirror 504 Rather Be 505 Rise 506 Good Vibrations 507 Faithfully 508 Firework 509 How Deep Is Your Love 510 Fix You 511 Fire And Rain 512 Give Your Heart A Break 513 Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree 514 Little Girls 515 Cry 516 Bust A Move 517 Bridge Over Troubled Water 518 Bring Him Home 519 Cheek To Cheek 520 Break Free 521 As Long As You're There 522 Big Ass Heart 523 Bitch 524 Bamboleo / Hero 525 Away In A Manger 526 Deck The Rooftop 527 Christmas Eve With You 528 Angels We Have Heard On High 529 Creep 530 Crush 531 Make No Mistake, She's Mine 532 Lose My Breath 533 Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee (Reprise) 534 What I Did For Love 535 Wake Me Up 536 Thousand Miles 537 Take A Bow 538 Still Got Tonight 539 The Music Of The Night 540 Stereo Hearts 541 The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late) 542 Take Me Or Leave Me 543 I'm The Only One 544 Isn't She Lovely 545 I Just Can't Stop Loving You 546 I'll Never Fall In Love Again 547 Unchained Melody 548 You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch 549 You Have More Friends Than You Know 550 You Should Be Dancing 551 I'm His Child 552 You Learn / You've Got A Friend 553 Somewhere 554 So Far Away 555 Uptown Funk 556 The Winner Takes It All 557 They Long To Be Close To You 558 Tonight 559 Being Good Isn't Good Enough 560 You May Be Right 561 To Love You More 562 Don't Wanna Lose You 563 Do You Hear What I Hear? 564 Ice Ice Baby 565 Don't Go Breaking My Heart 566 Don't Make Me Over 567 I Won't Give Up 568 I'll Be Home For Christmas 569 I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For 570 I Still Believe / Super Bass 571 I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) 572 I Want You Back 573 Father Figure 574 Everybody Hurts 574 Gangnam Style 576 We Are The Champions 577 Stayin' Alive 578 Superman 579 The Rose 580 Don't Stop Believin' (Rachel) 581 Fly / I Believe I Can Fly 582 Gives You Hell 583 I Love L.A. 584 Mr. Roboto / Counting Stars 585 O Holy Night 586 Only The Good Die Young 587 One 588 Silent Night 589 Piano Man 590 Sexy And I Know It 591 Sgt. Pepper's Lonley Hearts Club Band 592 Pretending 593 Physical 594 Danny's Song 595 Stand 596 The Final Countdown 597 You Can't Always Get What You Want 598 You Are Woman, I Am Man 599 You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' 600 Your Song 601 Say 602 No Air 603 Need You Now 604 No Surrender 605 Piece Of My Heart 606 Thong Song 607 Blurred Lines 608 Another One Bites The Dust 609 I Was Here 610 Bella Notte 611 I Know What Boys Like 612 God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 613 Glory Days 614 Friday 615 More Than Words 616 Waiting For A Girl Like You 617 Welcome Christmas 618 You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) 619 You Give Love A Bad Name 620 We Built This City 621 Whistle 622 Who Are You Now? 623 You And I / You And I 624 Take Care Of Yourself 625 Tell Me Something Good 626 The Rain In Spain 627 Can't Fight This Feeling 628 Jingle Bell Rock 629 In Your Eyes 630 Hello 631 Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) 632 I Only Have Eyes For You 633 Jingle Bells 634 Joy To The World 635 I Wanna Sex You Up 636 Fight For Your Right (To Party) 637 Feliz Navidad 638 I'm So Excited 639 Uninvited 640 The Living Years 641 The Fox (What Does The Fox Say?) 642 O Christmas Tree 643 One Love (People Get Ready) 644 Ohio 645 Only Child 646 Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love 647 My Sharona 648 Dance The Night Away 649 Poison 650 My Cup 651 Not The End 652 What It Feels Like For A Girl 653 Listen To Your Heart 654 Little Drummer Boy 655 One Hand, One Heart 656 Bein' Green 657 Big Spender 658 Billionaire 659 Ben 660 Gimme More 661 Burning Up 662 Hey Ya! 663 Hey, Soul Sister 664 Baby Got Back 665 Blue Christmas 666 Bohemian Rhapsody 667 Far From Over 668 The Trolley Song 669 Starlight Express 670 Whip It 671 You're The Top 672 Red Solo Cup 673 Next To Me 674 Rolling In The Deep 675 Rainbow Connection 676 La Cucaracha 677 (You're) Having My Baby 678 A Little Less Conversation 679 Happy 680 Highway To Hell 681 Same Love 682 Rock Lobster 683 Girls Just Want To Have Fun

[lacewing707]

[Mind Blind] Trappers

Never have I thought I‘d write something that isn’t my first language (at least not this early), but I just love Mind Blind so much I have to do something to contribute to the fandom. Here’s a fanfiction about Nick and f!Button as a result. Dedicated to @mindblindbard for creating such an amazing game (And I would also like to apologize beforehand for the possible OOC.) Summary: a bit of Snickly, less bit of GrayxButton, and a whole bundle of Button’s monologue. Enjoy!

A small “click” echoes from across the room, taking over the quiet essence that previously engulfed the house. Someone is entering, and with only two people living in this place, it’s not hard to guess who it is by the door. My brother Nick, with a coat on his forearm and slightly disheveled hair, is trying too hard to loosen his tie, as if it would strangle him somehow should he fail. He seems to be in a more solemn mood than usual.

I cautiously edge over the sofa, taking a good look at his face. Dreadriness seems to drag down those poor brows on his forehead. When he notices my gaze, my brother slowly drags his eyes up to meet mine. One brief moment of tortured silence follows, then suddenly his shoulders loosen:

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

I grin, relieved to notice his confrontation sounds more of exasperation (or amusement dare I say) rather than of anger. His eyes crinkle with indulgence as a smile steadily plays on his lips. After all, Nick could never really be angry with me. I mean how could he, with his sweet, loving, adjective-adjective little sister, even if she kind of locked him in an empty room for hours, with no one but her best friend Sally, who happens to have a massive crush on him ever since elementary school.

Oops.

Now, before you all begin to judge, I just want to state that my intention is utterly and undoubtedly pure in heart. It was none other than a wedding vow under a Ferris wheel, with heaps of flowers blooming in the background like July fireworks. Sally is going to wear a lily-white dress, cascading down the curve of her body until it floods the ivory stone pavement. The color matches Nick’s ridiculously flashy suit, which...should not come as a surprise knowing how much of an extra he is; and when the pope finalizes the vow, standing aside a model bridesmaid as I am, I will be SCREAMING on top of my lungs “kiss already!” - or better yet, preparing to kiss alongside them, in the delightful scenario of a double wedding (in which the other spouse is definitely not decided by-the-by).

I admit, being stuck in a closed room is not the most creative way of starting a romance, very much beneath a creator such as myself. But you know what, Nick has always expected me to be innovative, so let’s surprise him with this epitome of cliché shall we? In fact, it can serve as a double trap, an unexpected tactic that could put the opponent off-guard and unprepared and, and…

Alright, screw it. After Rosy’s one hell of a training, I was exhausted, okay? Exhausted and, well... a bit lazy. Still, at this point, might as well just start throwing things aimlessly. I’m sick and tired of waiting for my best friend and my brother to be an item. For all I know, Sally’s feeling has been pretty clear, and I am sure there’s something from Nick’s side, but those doofuses just keep throwing at each other meaningless banter and even insisting on the weird, full-first-name basis. What was that all about?

The squeaky sound from one of the cupboards abruptly cuts through my train of thought. I raise my head, only to find Nick already standing beside the kitchen counter. Even though I did prank him a good deal, he still wants to make sure his sister has good nutrition for the night.

“How did you even get access to that room?” He wonders.

Well my dear brother, you obviously have not made aware of my very resourceful friend Glitch. It only took an avocado toast and some treats (vegan, of course!), made and packed by Nick with love. Never would have thought they could be used against him just like that.

Ouch, feeling a bit guilty here; but a double wedding is awaiting, and I just cannot ignore that call from the future. It is my (self-proclaimed) duty to make such vision a reality.

I may have developed some other questionable methods for Nick to come all the way down from the top floor, such as making Grayson unknowingly lead his best friend into a trap. Now, I’m sure I could get Gray involved in a more volitional manner, with just a few shed of crocodile tears, but as much as I love him (I mean, not literally, ahem!), the guy is a disastrous liar. No doubt Gray would be figured out in the blink of eyes.

I need not say a word, as Nick must have known all about my schemes from my open daisy field of a mind. For a brief moment, his brows creased into contemplation as an unreadable expression sets upon his features. It is one of those times where I wish I could just read his mind.

I would assume he’s questioning my ethicality, which is seriously weird coming from him, but I guess it’s different now that he’s the victim? Regardless, I approach the counter, a cheeky smile plastered on my lips.

“So how was the quality time with Sally? Anything...interesting?”

A faint blush flashes across his cheek, and I don’t need to be a Ment to know what’s going on. It’s no challenging feat to imagine that squishy feeling like marshmallows, blooming in his chest; that thumping sound of heart whenever that person’s image conjured in one’s mind; and that sweet-yet-bitterness when ones almost-but-not-quite touch...

I mentally clear my throat, now is not the time.

Nick seems to be resonating my mental throat clearing as well. Dishes clank as he’s trying so hard to form an intelligible answer.

“W-What do you mean interesting? Nothing’s interesting!” He swings around, almost colliding with the edge of the counter. “Let’s eat, Button!”

“Really, Nick?” I smirk.

It’s rare to see Nick like this, very rare. My brother always likes to pride himself on being the suavest of the suave, yet he’s acting like some hormonal teenage kid with a crush. I smile so hard, it’s a miracle that my cheeks are able to contain it. One toothless, dazzling grin as I try my best not to laugh my arse off in a villainous manner. Thousands of suppressed thoughts loom beneath my subconscious.

Then, they all explode.

“Muahahaha!!”

“So much for all those teasing her before eh?”

♪“Who said, who said “I don’t love her”?”♪

It felt immensely glorious. Waves after waves of thoughts come crashing down at once as my heart is bursting with sheer excitement. My head must have been a hell ground for Nick, which can only be worsened by his Pollard Score of 10. This means he can dissect my crumbling mess of thoughts very clearly, and no doubt that Nick can very well hear all my gloat, teasing, as well as a bunch of old songs to which I so horribly butcher the lyrics just to further torment him.

♪“And you’re never ever ever, gonna fool yourself now”♪

Nick’s face is so red, might as well make some marinara sauce. Immediately, he turns around and bolts to his bedroom, despite knowing how little it can help when my mind is already a full-on broadcaster. For the first time in my life, I am actually grateful for my sucker of mind blindness.

Makes the teasing a whole bundle of fun!

I barely hold my breath as I settle down on my diner seat, making a mental note to wrap Nick’s dish in case he’s done sulking in his room. Still giggling to myself, I muse, today has been a fun day.

**

Glitch stares at the neatly packed lunch box temptingly dangled in front of his eyes. An amused smile plastered on his lips.

“It seems that I’ve been attracting a lot of deals with the Wiseman lately, have I?” He chuckles. “What’s with you and all the locked rooms?”

Nick grins. False innocence imprints on his handsome features while he struggles to contain a devilish satisfaction. Button will be so pissed, knowing her own recent scheme actually inspires the trap that has yet to befall her. How he wishes to see her face when it all comes down.

He may or may not attempt this as payback, but one thing Nick is very certain of.

He is not the only person who wants the best friend - sibling scenario.

_____

I’ve just realized that K is the only one from the main cast who doesn’t make at least a cameo appearance. 😂 Oh well, I do have another idea specifically for them anyway (if I ever manage to write it down =)) ).

[thelastspeecher]

Pirate AU - Dan and the Captain

So, in the Pirate AU, Manly Dan is the first mate of Angie (aka Sully, aka Sally).  They met back when Angie first joined a pirate ship as Sully and was scared and nervous, and started up a friendship for the ages.  Here’s some of that friendship.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              “Manly” Dan Corduroy felt like he knew his captain well, probably better than anyone else.  After all, he’d been there the first day Sully joined a ship.  He was the one to help Sully as he learned to be a pirate, the one who taught Sully how to be more manly.

              Dan was the only person who witnessed the entirety of Sully’s gradual change from a shy, soft-spoken cabin boy to a brash, assertive captain.  He considered Sully to be a friend.  So it was startling to overhear the captain having a hushed conversation with his first mate, Stan.

              “Are you sure you wanna do this?” Stan said. Passing by the captain’s cabin, Dan paused.  “I mean, you’ve kept this hidden for a while.  Who knows how the crew will react?”

              “It’s somethin’ I’ve needed to come clean about fer a while, Stan.”  Dan’s eyes widened.  It was undoubtedly Sully’s voice, but more in line with how he’d sounded when he first started.  High-pitched and accented.

              I thought his voice changed over time. More surprising than the discovery that Sully’s voice hadn’t truly changed, however, was that the captain felt the need to keep his real voice a secret from Dan.  Dan, the man he’d had as a first mate for years, who he claimed to trust more than anyone else.  I guess he just trusts Stan more than he ever trusted me.  But I shouldn’t hold that against him.  He and the first mate are dating, after all.

              “But promise me one thing,” Sully said.

              “What?”

              “…Don’t tell my brother how I go about it, okay? He’s already apoplectic about discoverin’ what happened to me.  He don’t need further reasons to have a heart attack.”

              “Yeah, he seemed a bit uptight,” Stan said with a chuckle.

              Brother?  Dan wracked his brain for anything Sully told him about his family.  One memory came to mind.  The second night Sully had spent on their old ship.

----- 

              “Look, kid-” Dan started.  Sully scowled at him fiercely.  It didn’t make him seem even slightly intimidating.  Sully was too short, his face too round.  He was clearly just a scared boy.  Much like Dan had been not long ago when he became a pirate.

              “I’m older ‘n you,” Sully snapped, a distinct twang to his voice.  Dan sat next to him.

              “Not with a BABY face like that,” he pointed out. “There’s no WAY you’re even out of your TEENS yet.”  Sully looked down at his feet.  Dan lowered his voice to fit the more somber topic.  “Anyways, I was gonna ask…what’s your family situation like?”  Sully stilled.

              “…Complicated.”

              “That’s how it is for a lot of people who find themselves on a pirate ship.  But I was wondering if you had a dad or brothers, any sort of man in your life to teach you how to, y’know.  Be manly.” Dan flexed his arms as a demonstration.

              “My ma was a big influence on me,” Sully said softly.  Dan nodded. That was in line with what he’d expected – namely, that Sully was raised by a single mother.  “I have three older brothers.”  That surprised Dan.

              “None of them showed you the ropes?”

              “We were too far apart in age.  We weren’t that close.”  Sully looked away morosely.  “I wish they could’ve taught me more, but all they really did was teach me some self-defense.”

              “Well, that’s better than nothing,” Dan said. Sully grunted softly.  “Lemme guess.  You’re a university brat, aren’t you?”  Sully didn’t say anything.  “If you were doing anything other than reading books all day, you’d have some hair on your chest.”  Sully turned pink.

              “Y-you saw my-” he stammered.

              “It’s an expression.  Relax.”

              “Oh.”  Sully looked down at his hands.  “You were right.  I went to university before…”  He trailed off.  “It doesn’t matter.  What matters is that I’m on a pirate ship and not prepared for it whatsoever.”  Dan clapped Sully heartily on the back.

              “You’re in LUCK, kid!  I’m the MANLIEST man on board, so I’m gonna HELP you out.”

              “…Really?”  Sully eyed Dan doubtfully.  “Why?”

              “Even if you WEREN’T a pirate, you’d need some MANLY lessons.”

              “But why are you helping me?”

              “You’re not the only one with brothers.”  Dan lowered his voice again.  “My older brother, Orson, he was the one who helped me be the man I am today.  I gotta pay it forward, y’know?”  Sully softened, likely thinking of his own older brothers.

              “Okay.”  Sully took a deep breath.  “If you’re offering manliness lessons, I guess I’ll take ‘em.”

              “EXCELLENT!” Dan boomed.  Sully winced.  “FIRST lesson: you need to change your VOICE.”

              “Wh- what’s wrong with my voice?”

              “You’ve got a NECK wound,” Dan said, pointing at the bandage on Sully’s neck.  Sully turned red.  His first night, someone had tried to slit his throat, but he managed to get the upper hand at the last second.  Sully was visibly disgruntled and unnerved by the experience.  “The SHIP doc said it might DAMAGE your voice.”

              “But it didn’t.”

              “Pretend it DID,” Dan said.  Sully furrowed his brow.  “We can WORK on that together in private.  Don’t talk to ANYONE until I give you the all clear.”  After a moment, Sully nodded.  “GREAT!”  Dan got up to leave.  But before he could, Sully spoke up.

              “Dan?”

              “Yeah?”

              “…Thank you,” Sully said softly.  Dan grinned at his new coworker.  His new friend.

              “No problem, Sully.”

----- 

              Dan shook himself free of the memory.  Sully had multiple brothers, and apparently was in contact with at least one of them.  Which surprised Dan.  Sully didn’t seem too fond of his family, despite clearly loving them deeply.

              When would Sully or Stan talk to one of his brothers?  Dan thought on that a bit more, and once he realized, he slapped his forehead with a loud groan.  The person he went easy on a few months ago!  The man had challenged Sully to a duel and lost, but said something softly to the captain.  And whatever he had said, had been enough to break Sully’s nerve.  Sully sheathed his sword and had the man thrown in the brig. After a few conversations in the captain’s cabin, the man was left ashore in some town called Gravity Falls.

              Now that Dan thought about it, that man, Fiddleford, had been eerily similar in appearance to the captain.  There was the obvious shared large nose, but Dan had gotten a close look at Fiddleford, and found the man to have intelligent blue eyes. Just like Sully.

              Fiddleford is the captain’s brother!  That’s why he went easy on him!  Dammit, Dan, why didn’t you figure it out sooner?  Dan knew the answer.  Sully was simply that good at keeping things under wraps.  Once he’d found his sea legs, it became impossible to learn something about Sully unless he said it himself.  As evidenced by the fact that Sully apparently had some sort of secret he’d kept from everyone except Stan.

              “Did you hear something?” Stan asked from inside the cabin.

              “Go check,” the captain instructed.  Quickly, Dan stepped away from the cabin and pretended to be inspecting the mast.  Stan poked his head out of the cabin, looked around, then went back inside.  Dan sighed softly.

              No use crying over spilled milk.  I would have liked the captain to trust me with everything, but he’s private.  I’ll just have to wait to be told whatever this secret is.  At least it sounds like I won’t have to wait that long.

----- 

              Dan was correct.  He didn’t have to wait long.  Later that same day, the captain summoned the entire crew to the deck for an important announcement.  Captain Sully stood on the forecastle deck, as he was too short to be seen by everyone otherwise.  He looked down at the crew with a trepidation Dan hadn’t seen in years, Stan by his side. He also wasn’t wearing a coat over his shirt, which stood out to Dan, who knew the captain to be cold almost constantly.

              “I have something to tell all of you,” he said without preamble.  The crew was dead silent.  “I’ve lied to you all.  My name isn’t Sully.”  The captain took a deep, steadying breath, then ripped open his shirt, revealing pale breasts.  “My name is Sally.”

              “Stow it!” Stan barked at the mutters that had rippled through the crew.  “The captain is sharing something personal and deserves your respect.”

              “Thank you, Stan.”  The captain’s voice maintained the distinctive rasp, but was now higher.  “My name is Sally.  I’m a woman. Have been since I was born.  But women aren’t taken seriously on a ship, so I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t.”  The captain scanned the crew, meeting each person’s eyes individually. “Something we’ve all done at one point.” The captain sighed heavily and straightened, putting both hands behind his – her? – back.  “Going forward, I’ll be returning to my true state as a woman named Sally.  I’m still your same captain, however, so I will not tolerate any disrespect or changes in how I am treated.”

              “You heard her,” Stan said.  “Captain Sally is the same person she was yesterday.  Don’t treat her differently.  Understand?”

              “Aye,” the crew replied.

              “Good,” Sully – Sally said.  “You may return to your duties.  Dan, please, come see me.”

              While the other crew members, including First Mate Stan, dispersed, Dan approached the captain.  He nodded at her.

              “Captain.”  This was clearly a private conversation, so he quieted his usual speaking volume.

              “Dan.”  Sally buttoned her shirt, then looked up at Dan.  “I wanted to apologize.”

              “For what?” Dan asked.

              “We’ve been close for years.  You were the first friend I made on a ship,” Sally said softly. “But I lied to you, from the beginning.”

              “I understand.”

              “Sure, I had a good reason,” Sally said, waving a hand airily.  “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t lie.  I know you aren’t feeling the most charitable towards me right now.  After all, I was pissed as hell at-”  Sally suddenly cut herself off.  Dan leaned in slightly.

              “Your brother?” he asked, making his voice as soft as possible.  One corner of Sally’s mouth quirked up into a crooked smile.

              “You figured out why I went easy on Fiddleford,” she said softly.  “You’re right.  He’s my brother, and I was pissed at him.  The reason is complicated.  But I had hurt feelings, even though he didn’t really do anything wrong.  Which is why I know exactly how you feel right now.”

              “You think I’m angrier than I am,” Dan pointed out. Sally sighed.

              “I can never tell with you when you’re quiet.”

              “Captain, you don’t need to worry about me.”

              “Well, in that case, you can get back to work.” Sally raised an eyebrow at Dan. “Unless there was something else you wanted to say to me.”

              “Your real name isn’t Sally, is it?” Dan asked. Sally threw her head back and laughed.

              “I didn’t hide my tell perfectly, huh?  Good thing you’re the only one who knows it. Don’t slip about that to anyone, okay? Stan thinks Sally’s my real name.” She punched Dan’s shoulder.  “Now, get back to work, crewman.”

              “Yes, captain,” Dan rumbled, returning his voice to its usual volume.  He walked away, unable to ignore the swell of pride he felt.

              I was right.  I know her better than anyone else.

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

in too deep (part 3)- jules

jules x reader

warnings: language, anxiety, creepiness, some violence, homophobia, overall just weird vibes (if you’ve seen the movie you know what i’m talking about)

TW: MENTIONS OF NON-CON (please don’t read if you’re triggered by this!! this was the bit of the story i had to change for the story to make sense since i swapped mickey’s gender. it doesn’t actually happen, but if the threat triggers you, do NOT READ!!!)

notes: i’m gonna try and keep this one shorter bc writing long chapters stresses me out

also! i’m writing this based on a pdf of the original script for the movie, so some dialogue may be different, or it may be my own creation because believe it or not, there are times that i do in fact possess creativity!!

you woke up with a jolt, dreams of the strangest variety plaguing your subconscious. you reached up to touch your pounding head- well, at least you would’ve if it wasn’t restrained. 

  “what the hell?” you tugged on the handcuffs, quickly realizing your legs were tied down, too, rendering you completely immobile. upon discovering this, you began to panic, breaking out in a cold sweat as you called out for your security blanket. “jules! jules!” 

  “she’s not gonna hear you. she’s down in the basement with sweetiepie.” gloria said calmly as she entered the room. 

not impressed with her answer, you questioned her. “what are you gonna do to her?” 

  “my, my. you asked about her safety before even questioning yours! the bond the two of you share must be stronger than i thought.” she mused, looking down at your panicked expression. “your belle is safe and sound, don’t worry. but if you want to see her again, you’re going to have to cooperate.”

  “cooperate? what the fuck are you gonna do to me?” you wrenched at your restraints, your heart rate beginning to pick up sufficiently. you depended on jules more than any other person in your life, and without her, you began to quickly unravel. 

  “just sit tight, all will be revealed soon enough.” gloria stated with an eerie smile. you hated how calm she was, it made you feel like she knew something you didn’t. “would you like to see some photos of my son?”

was she serious? look at some photos of her son? all you wanted was their car! how did you end up in this mess? the sudden aggravation caused you to lose your composure. 

  “no, i don’t wanna see any pictures of your fucking son! i wanna get my girlfriend and that fucking kid and get the fuck out of here!” you screamed. “i wanna get the fuck away from you and your crazy ass husband! i wa-” your sudden outburst was cut off by a firm slap, giving you little time to react before gloria had you in a chokehold.

  “you keep your damn mouth shut! you won’t refer to anyone in this family like that under my roof!” you spat in her face, taking in a wheezing breath as she let go of you to wipe her face. her sudden anger morphed into what you assumed was her signature brand of unnerving calmness. 

  “you wanted to know what i’m going to do to you? i’ll tell you.” she smiled creepily. “you see, george and i have wanted our own children for the longest time, but that’s just not what the good lord had planned for us. so think of yourself as a vessel for us. an oven for our bun, if you will.”

your jaw dropped, the color in your face draining as your eyes widened in shock. “fuck! what the fuck? that’s so fucking fucked up! you’re not gonna fucking touch me, you bitch!” you couldn’t catch your breath, your chest heaving with every intake of air. 

gloria got up to leave, her long skirt spinning with a flourish as she made her way to the bedroom door. “d-don’t f-fucking leave,” you wheezed as she exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

  “jules!” you shouted. “jules, please fucking help me,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes in defeat.

-------------------------------

time ticked by slowly, your arms and shoulders starting to ache as they were held in the same position. you tried to reposition them to get some relief, but none came. 

suddenly, you heard the door click open, your eyes flitting up hopefully. gloria entered with a grin on her painted lips, making her way towards you. 

while you were in the room by yourself, you had used the time wisely to come up with what would hopefully be a successful escape plan. you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes. “gloria, can we talk?” 

  “absolutely. what’s on your mind?” it was creepy how quickly she seemed to get over your defiance from earlier, but you pushed the thought from your mind. 

  “well, honestly, your proposal.” you began. “i know how i acted the other day was totally uncalled for, and i’ve reconsidered.”

  “well, you didn’t really have much of a choice, sweetheart, but i’m glad you feel that way.” she stroked a hand over your stomach, making you feel physically sick. “is there anything else?”

  “yeah, there is. can we start now? i wanna start these happy nine months as soon as i can.” you faked a smile, the words coming out of your mouth churning your insides. 

  “well yes, i guess that could be arranged,” she moved to get up and you panicked, your plan quickly setting out of motion. 

  “wait!” you exclaimed. “can you uncuff me? i don’t think it would really be enjoyable if i was tied down like i am now.”

she looked skeptical, but sat down next to you anyways. “give me one good reason you wouldn’t be trying to escape as soon as i untied you.”

  “well, i’ve had a change of heart.” no i haven’t. “i’ve considered it, and i think you’re right.” no you’re not. “i think this experience would be really beneficial to me,” no it wouldn’t. “especially if i wasn’t chained to the bed the whole time.” definitely not.

  “it seems that you’ve really put some thought into this, i’m very proud of you.” gloria crooned. she sat on the side of the mattress, working on uncuffing your hands from the bedposts. as soon as both your hands were free, you took a tight grip of her hair and used your body weight to launch her off of you and onto the floor. she cried out, clutching her head as you worked at the ropes around your ankles. 

  “you psycho fucking bitch!” you cursed at her. “i’m getting my girlfriend and that fucking kid and we’re getting the fuck out of here!” once your legs were finally free, you took off, running down the stairs as the damsel called out for her husband. 

you raced towards the door, prying at the handle, when a gunshot goes off right next to your head. you jumped in fear, raising your hands in defense to see george at the top of the staircase, wielding your pistol. 

  “exactly what in the hell do you think you’re doing? get your ass up here!” he shouted, waving the weapon threateningly. when you stood frozen in your tracks, he spoke again. “i’m a crack shot, kid. i missed you on purpose that time. now get on up here.” 

you grudgingly headed up the stairs, keeping your wide eyes facing straight ahead. you heard gloria sobbing in the other room, sounding as distraught as ever, and you knew you were in for it. “who the hell raised you like that? you of all people making a woman cry like that.”

  “i’d blow your brains out if i thought you had any,” george sighed. “well, i’ll tell you one thing; you’re a bit too spry for my liking.” 

suddenly, he pulled the trigger, and the bullet ripped through the meat of your thigh. you screamed in agony, clutching the wound as you cried out. “fuck! what the fuck? you just fucking shot me!”

he acted like it was nothing, simply tossing a towel at you to stop the bleeding. “quit your whinin’, ya sally. we’ll get you bandaged up.”

----------------------------

  “don’t make me put another bullet in ‘ya. just behave, goddammit!” george growled as he dragged you down the basement stairs. through your hazy vision, you were able to make out jules handcuffed to a pole not too far away from the girl. he drops you to the floor, yanking your hands behind your back and cuffing them next to jules’. 

  “y/n!” jules called out, a happy yet worried smile making its way onto her lips. her gaze landed on your leg, her eyes widening when she saw the bloody wrappings. “oh my god! you motherfucker, what did you do to her?”

  “what are you blind? i shot her.” george stated matter-of-factly. “now you two keep quiet down here. keep an eye on ‘em, sweetiepie.” he looked over to the girl before heading upstairs.

  “fuck, i’m so happy you’re alive, baby! i heard those gunshots go off and i was so scared i was gonna lose you! are you okay?” jules blurted out, trying to turn towards you. 

  “it hurts so fucking bad, but i’m okay.” you panted, breathing labored. you wriggled your arms, pulling on the cuffs frustratingly. 

  “can you pick it?” jules asks hopefully. your heavy eyes darted around the basement, searching for something in arm’s reach small enough to fit in the keyhole. 

  “i don’t have anything to pick it with.” you huffed, leaning your head back against the pole as tears of frustration brimmed your eyes. “shit!”

you peeled your eyes open to look around the room once more, eyes landing on sweetiepie as she stared back at you in fascination. you had had enough of this little girl; she was the reason you were in this whole mess. if she just would’ve fucking cooperated, the three of you could be outta here and on the route to florida. “oh, i’m so glad you’re here, i didn’t get the chance to say fuck you!”

jules nudged you with her elbow, as if to discourage you from swearing at the child. “leave her alone, she feels bad. she didn’t know what she was doing.”

  “how the hell do you know? she talked?” you asked in confusion at her statement. 

  “i don’t know, i just do.” jules shrugged. sweetiepie had resumed playing with her toys once more, the little princess dolly riding away on the heroic stallion’s back. you sighed at the seemingly hopeless situation, letting your eyes fall shut. 

this was gonna be a long night. 

***************************

okay so an itty bitty change of plans: if this ended where it was originally supposed to, it would be really long and kinda unsatisfying (to me at least), so i’m splitting this into two chapters. 

which means that instead of a 5-part series, this will be 6 parts! it just makes more sense to me that way. 

anyway, i hope you guys enjoy!! i really had fun writing this part!

tags: @emmyrosee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​​ @willyourecognisemee​ @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass​

[mobius-prime]

275. Sonic Universe #6

Mobius: 30 Years Later (Part 2 of 4): Dark Siege

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

After all the chaos from the rocket attack has settled for the day, Silver accompanies Sonic and Sally into the castle that evening to discuss the issue. He acts casual, but knowing what we already know about him, it's obvious he's looking for clues about the two, picking up photo frames to examine them while he asks about the whole "Five Years of Peace" thing and how that relates to them getting a rocket shot at them.

I know I've already ripped into this arc more than its fair share just last issue, but already I see another problem. Silver's whole motivation is to find the elusive traitor within the Freedom Fighters of the past, two hundred years before his time, that led to his future being destroyed. The problem with that, then, is… why the hell is he here? I know this is meant to be one of the possible futures of this zone, and indeed Penders wanted to make it explicitly so, but a lot of little details both in the M25/30YL arcs and the rest of the comic from here on out point toward this taking place in an alternate universe, not in Mobius Prime. I know that Ian couldn't have necessarily known where the comic would go in the future - sure he plans ahead, but one must also be ready to make crap up as one goes along in an industry like this, I'd imagine - but without spoiling anything major before we get there, let's just say that Sonic and Silver speak to each other in this issue as though they've only met once before, whereas they meet many more times in upcoming issues back in the present. Granted, I suppose you could simply say that this is the future where they only met once, and Silver's subsequent visits to the past altered that future and effectively split this future off into its own timeline, but then we start getting into the logistics of time travel, and, well, even Silver agrees that that's a bit too much to bother with. But regardless, my point still stands - Silver is looking for some kind of traitor among the ranks of the Freedom Fighters, and yet he arrives here thirty years after they've been disbanded, claiming that his future's ruination was set off by events that happened at this exact time, despite every other instance of him speaking about the state of the future seeming to indicate that the traitor's attack is imminent and that the world will be ending before they even get a chance to grow old. Meh, I don't know, it just makes no sense. Maybe I'm missing something here.

Anyway, Sonic suggests that Lien-Da may be behind all this due to her position as leader of the Dark Presence and her anger over being separated from her son. Lara-Su has clearly had the same thought, as she shows up on Rutan and Dimitri's doorstep in a fury, demanding Rutan tell her where his mother is. He angrily claims that he doesn't know and that it was her and her allies that forced them apart, and Dimitri steps (er, floats) in before things can escalate to a fight, trying to smooth things over by suggesting Rutan call up Salma for a nice chat. (Remember? His weird girlfriend? Espio's daughter? Who did Espio even have a daughter with, anyway?) Rutan stomps away angrily, and Lara-Su apologizes, claiming she wasn't here to pick a fight, though Dimitri doesn't believe her.

Look, I pointed this out last issue, but I feel like everyone is kind of ignoring the obvious fact that putting one person in charge of an entire crowd's security is a terrible idea. I mean, it's no surprise at all that she couldn't do her job properly, she had no goddamn backup! In the castle, Silver suggests to Sonic and Sally that they call on the Freedom Fighters to help them fight the Dark Presence, but Sally informs him of how she disbanded them when Shadow took over to avoid any conflict. Again, massively out of character for her, but I digress. Silver actually briefly considers whether Sally may then be the Freedom Fighter traitor, which as mentioned before doesn't seem to make much sense, before asking if there's anyone else around they can call on. Sonic mentions that the Prowers are staying nearby, and immediately we cut to Tails opening his hotel room door, expecting room service and instead getting a face full of sleepy-time gas. Mina is incredibly quick on the uptake, grabbing both her kids, rushing them out the door past the Dark Presence attackers and into the street, ordering them to find help before rushing back, leaving Melody and Skye scared and alone. She bursts back into the room where the attackers are busy tying Tails up, and demands they let go of him, but she doesn't see the other echidna behind her until he grabs her.

Miiight have been a better idea to stay with your kids, Mina. Lara-Su, walking back to the castle, silently admonishes herself for only going to Rutan's house to blow off steam from the ceremony before, only to spot a few more Dark Presence agents making their way through the treeline nearby. She considers for a moment jumping in to attack, but then, tempering her, well, temper, decides to call on her training from Espio and follow them silently. Within the castle, Silver is still stressing out about their lack of proper backup, when an echidna maid comes up to offer them some refreshments. She butters up Silver for a moment as the great hero who saved Sonic's life earlier, before whipping a gun full of more knockout gas out from under her platter cover and spraying it in his face. She doesn't have time to get anyone else besides Silver before Sonic grabs the gun from her and sprays it on her in return, remarking that "two years is a long time to be a sleeper agent." Realizing the danger, Sonic tells Sally to take the kids and Silver and lock themselves in the panic room within the castle, while he rushes off to find out what's going on and protect them. Sally, of course, protests that she's no damsel in distress and doesn't appreciate being left out of the action.

Okay, that's actually cute. That’s maybe the one truly believable character moment out of this entire AU so far. Sonic turns down a few hallways, and is immediately disappointed to find Lara-Su standing in the middle of a cross-section surrounded by unconscious Dark Presence agents, wanting to have fought some of them himself. He saves her from one last one she missed, but then the turrets on the walls turn towards them, and - wait, they have turrets on the walls? I mean, I understand that a castle containing the seat of the world government would kind of need some decent security, but I can't imagine trying to raise kids in a home that included deadly weapons mounted to the walls of the hallways like they were ordinary paintings. Sonic and Lara-Su realize that Lien-Da is probably already in the building and has turned the security system on them, and elect to leave for now to find outside help, trusting Sally and the kids will be fine inside the panic room. Lara-Su is amused at Sonic's classic "Let's do it to it!" line as they leap out a window, but they sober up once they land in the streets nearby, finding Melody and Skye yelling for their help. They explain what happened to Tails and Mina, and Lara-Su begins to panic as well, not sure that even someone like herself who took down King Shadow single-handedly could liberate a castle from the entire Dark Presence force. Sonic, sensing the mood getting out of hand, calls for everyone to be quiet so he can talk.

Oh yeah, remember Argyle? Glad he wasn't forgotten about, nor his somewhat flirtatious relationship with Lara-Su. Within the castle, Lien-Da calls for a report, and the Dark Eyes tell her that the Prowers are secure in their hotel room, the castle staff are being watched within their own personal quarters, and the queen and her children have sealed themselves in the panic room. Lien-Da is surprisingly unconcerned with Sally's escape, saying that she's glad the queen got herself out of the way of her own accord, and leads her guard down to the basement, happily talking to herself all the way there about how she thinks the current government is weak, how Shadow ran everything better, and that after five years she's finally ready to make things right and be able to be with her son once again. She even makes a mention of "that horrible Kintobor woman," who could only be Hope, implying that she doesn't actually know who sealed Shadow away in a bubble of Chaos energy. Wait… she's not gonna…?

*sigh* But of course. Whoop whoop, evil King Shadow is back. I'm suuuper excited for more poor characterization of my boy. Yaaayyy.

[hellsgreatestsideshow]

Sallie May

「 𓍼 ❝ I don't know. I don't really see how I'd fit into this shiny new life you built. ❞ 」

Threads / Reflection / Aesthetics / Headcanons / Musings / Music / Opens

Ships:

[hellsgreatestsideshow]

「 𓍼 Did she just-? She really wasn't used to hot girls talking to her like this. She hoped to Satan she didn't make a fool of herself. ❝ You don't say. That sounds fun. ❞ Ugh, was that the best she could do? Internally she was banging her head against her fist. But she blinked when the other said they should go. ❝ What? You mean like right now? ❞ Yes! yes! Yes! Besides, she hadn't ever been to lust before. She stood up. ❝ Hell yeah, let's do this! ❞ 」

She was really enjoying this girl. She was just darling. "yeah or we could find more creative ways to get wet together." She winked at her. Though her jaw just dropped. Now that wouldn't stand. "Let's go, right now. My treat. I can show you all the best spots."

[bittykimmy13]

Change of Heart (GT)

Of course Ben and Lee couldn't be left out of the fun of the Print/Shot AU :') The majority of prints live in regulated communities. Ones that step out of line are put into the Mercy Program, where they are purchased by wealthy humans and treated as pets. Once an owner deems their print is "rehabilitated", the print may return to their community. After the third owner, however, the print is automatically transferred into a trinket body. Which, as we've seen, is so much WORSE. ANYWAY, this is a much lighter story compared to the past few. ENJOY :D Characters belong to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie <3

(( More from the Print / Trinket Universe ))

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

The fluorescent lights hanging above Lee did not allow him to finish the sleep he so desperately needed. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and turned his head, but the lights continued to glare through his eyelids. When he tried to roll onto his side, a deep ache shot through his body and startled him into alertness. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so sore. Memories from the night before rushed back. Raining. Three men darting out of the alley, dragging him into the shadows, beating the shit out of him. There had been no chance for him to fight back, not even a second of time to raise his hands and defend himself. He had sank down against the brick wall, and a tiny shout had come from his pocket. Ben had jumped out. And as the ache in Lee’s body spread deeper, that was the last thing he could remember. Possibilities raced through his mind. If the muggers had spotted Ben, no doubt they took him. If Ben had gotten away, it would be simple enough to track his cuff. It was the worst case scenario that made Lee shiver: in all the commotion, darkness, and rain, Ben could have been carelessly killed.

Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, he squinted his eyes open. For a second, he thought he was in a hotel room, but the IV drip by his bed told him otherwise. The bag of fluid was labeled with a logo for Kingston Luxury Hospital. The door was wide open, and he could hear the drone of several conversations coming from a nurses’ station. When he tried to sit up, he had to suppress a groan of pain. His gaze roved the room, taking in the amenities: a large TV mounted to the wall, elegantly-carved furniture, a nightstand that held a vase of flowers, a tissue box, a glass of water, and what looked like a service pager. Now if they could just get rid of the bright fucking lights, it would be heaven. He leaned over to reach for the pager, but a twitch of movement from across the room caught his eye. Ben. Ben was on a table next to the curtained window, sitting in a clear glass cage. Relief rushed through Lee at first, but it was quick to waver. Ben was in the corner of the container, legs drawn to his chest. He lifted his head and found Lee looking at him. The expression on that tiny face was unreadable from a distance, but there was something glum about the way Ben put his chin back down on his knees. Lee croaked out a chuckle. “Must be pretty disappointing for you that I lived, huh?” Ben didn’t respond. Shocking. Lee grabbed the pager by the bed and pushed the button that would alert the nurse’s station. In no time at all, a young woman with a black ponytail came prancing into the room. She beamed at him and came to a stop by his bed, folding her hands in front of her. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rhodes,” she said. “I’m Sally. You’re up sooner than we expected, but your vitals have been looking perfectly normal, all things considered. The doctor will be along later when she’s making her rounds in this wing. I’m sure the investigator will want to speak with you as well.” Lee leaned his head back on the pillows. “What the hell happened? I can’t remember anything after I was attacked. Did they get the guys who did it?” “Still on the run. I’m sorry. And it’s not surprising that you don’t remember much. You were in bad shape by the time the ambulance reached you.” Nodding, Lee turned his gaze over to Ben, who hurriedly looked away. “Any reason in particular he’s in there?” “It’s protocol,” Sally said, her pleasant tone untouched. “When a patient is in your sort of condition and there’s nowhere else to take a print, it needs to be contained.” She gave Lee a private smile. “We don’t run a babysitting service. And well, you should know… he was showing escapee tendencies when you were found.” “No shit,” Lee said, rolling his eyes. “Trying to hide?” “Worse. His tracking cuff had been removed, and your phone was on the ground behind a dumpster. Security footage shows that it fell out of your pocket during the attack and your print dragged it behind a garbage can during the commotion. He must have gone into the settings of your phone and deactivated his cuff.” “How’s that possible? My phone unlocks with my fingerprint.” She chewed her lip and shrugged. “It gets more disturbing. The footage shows that he dragged the phone back out when those thugs were gone. While you were unconscious, he used your finger to unlock it.” “Well, isn’t that fucking nice.” Lee turned a glare toward Ben. “It’s up to you how you want to proceed about all that,” Sally went on. “But for now, focus on your recovery.” Lee breathed out a weary sigh. “How did they find him, then? His cuff was off.” There was something tentative, almost uncomfortable, about Sally’s pause. She cleared her throat. “Well, he… he didn’t run off right away. The footage shows him lingering for a while near you before he ran off. It seems he went and got someone’s attention and led them to you.” He waited for her to laugh and say she was kidding. “Yeah, okay,” Lee scoffed. “What really happened?” “No, really,” she said. “Your print flagged down a couple who were walking down the block. They were concerned to see a cuffless print without an owner in sight, so they followed him to you. They’re the ones who called the ambulance and made sure your print didn’t go anywhere.” Her words sank in slowly. Even if his head wasn’t pounding, it would have taken a while to process. “You can’t be serious.” Lee pointed at Ben. “That print? That one right there?” She giggled. “I know. It’s odd, isn’t it? But that’s what I was told. Your print hasn’t said a word since you were brought in.” Lee turned his eyes to the glass container. “So you’re saying he saved me,” he said slowly. “And you… put him in a box.” “Well, I didn’t,” Sally said, confusion tainting the corners of her smile. “Like I said, Mr. Rhodes, it’s protocol—” “Take him out of there.” Sally pursed her lips, brow pinching as though waiting for him to take back his words and say he was joking. When he did no such thing, she threaded her fingers together in front of her and laughed uncomfortably. “Sir, you’re in no condition to manage your print. Is there anything else I can do for you?” “Nope. The only thing you can do for me is take him out of there.” “Mr. Rhodes. His cuff wasn’t located in the scramble to get you here, so it would violate the general Mercy Program legislation to not have him contained in some—” “Sorry,” Lee laid in overtop her. “What I meant to say was, take him the fuck out of there and bring him to me, unless you want to wager if I can make you lose your job in three phone calls or less.” She gave an outraged little scoff, her friendly energy going out like a light. When she didn’t move, Lee lifted his eyebrows in an I’m-dead-serious manner that finally spurred her to the other side of the room. She hesitated, then reached into the open top of the glass container. Ben finally reacted, shrinking against the corner, but there was nowhere for him to go. Sally managed to get her hand around his waist and lift him out. “Where do you want him?” she asked flatly, striding back to the bed. “Nightstand.” He frowned when she came closer and he spotted a dark red gash on Ben’s arm, caked with dried blood. There were dark splotches along his skin too that could either be dirt or bruising. On top of that, he looked a shade paler than death. Lee looked at Sally in disbelief. “He’s hurt. This is a fucking hospital—why would he still be like this?” “We’re not authorized to treat prints.” Lee groaned, watching as Ben staggered away from Sally’s hand when she set him down on the nightstand. The print kept his gaze pointed downward, standing stiffly with his hurt arm clutched against himself. Lee was prepared to order Sally to help Ben, to hell with what was authorized, but when he eyed her scowling face, he had the feeling she might do more harm than good if she got her hands on Ben again. “Bring salve,” Lee said instead. “The good stuff.” Sally wavered, jaw dropping in protest. “Hey, wanna make it two phone calls or less?” Lee said gamely. “I’m feeling pretty lucky right now, near-death experience and all.” Once she hurried off, Lee propped himself up to sit in bed. He winced at the ache that mercilessly pounded his body. He had to have been in pretty bad shape if he was still feeling this much punishment. Grabbing one of the pillows stacked under his head, he set it on his lap and turned his attention to the nightstand. Ben gasped and flinched away from the approach of Lee’s hand, shaking his head pleadingly. Lee sighed, completing the motion regardless and closing his fingers around Ben’s middle. “I know you don’t like this,” Lee said. “But that cut’s gonna get infected if it doesn’t get fixed up.” After Ben was set down on the pillow, he scooted back and tucked his arm close against himself. He kept his wide eyes trained down, his little body wired with tension. Lee chewed his lip, eyeing the scrapes and grime that had gone ignored on Ben’s exposed arms. “Ridiculous,” Lee muttered, reaching aside to swipe a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “I guarantee you, this hospital is full of people whining over papercuts, and not one of these nurses could stop for one fucking minute…” He wrapped the tissue around his finger and wet the tip of it in the glass of water. Cupping his other hand around Ben, Lee could feel him shivering. Lee proceeded to wipe away the grime from his good arm, along with a patch of dirt on the side of his neck. Frustrated as he was, Lee was glad to have something to focus on besides actual conversation. Luckily, Sally came back in and offered further distraction, if only for a moment. She sulkily placed a capped bottle of salve on the bed. “Let me know when you’re done with it, please,” she said. “I’ll get into trouble if—” “Shut the door on your way out,” Lee said. With a huff, she strode out, sealing Lee and Ben in silence. “I need your arm.” Lee adjusted the tissue so that he wouldn’t be rubbing dirt into the wound. “Come on—don’t be like that. I need to clean it first.” Ben still didn’t move. Lee sighed and reached in with his other hand, gently pinching Ben’s wrist to pull his arm out. Ben’s breathing became quicker, more frantic, but he didn’t try to wrench himself away, thankfully. He merely kept his wide eyes on his arm, as though he might be seeing it for the last time. “How’d you get this anyway?” Lee asked, narrowing his eyes at the sliced flesh. Swallowing hard, Ben uttered, “Your phone w-was cracked.” Lee clenched his jaw. Gentle as he could, he cleaned the wound and the blood caked around it. With that out of the way, he released Ben long enough to grab the salve and uncap it. “This’ll sting,” Lee warned after applying a dab of salve to his fingertip. He secured Ben’s arm again and kept a firm grip, prepared for Ben to flinch away upon contact. “But it won’t feel any worse than getting sliced in the first place.” Ben’s face contorted with pain as Lee applied the salve. Hissing, Ben tried to tug his arm back, but Lee kept his stubborn hold to make sure the medicine was rubbed in. The moment Lee let go, Ben reclaimed his arm and fell to his side. Wheezing, he stared at his arm. Amazement dawned on his face as the redness of the wound began to dull. “See?” Lee said. “Not so bad. It’ll be closed up in no time.” The amazement on Ben’s face fled. “What’s the point?” “What do you mean?” A pause. Ben sat up, but his shoulders were slumped with despair. “I… I’m not going to be in this body for much longer.” He looked up, and Lee was shocked to see tears rapidly pooling in his eyes. Ben made a choked sound, his words almost lost. “So, w-what’s the point of fixing me up?” As realization dawned, Lee was speechless for once. And Ben, just as uncharacteristically, was the one to fill the silence. There were too many expressions on his face to identify in isolation: anger, sorrow, desperation, regret. “Please,” Ben croaked. “Please, don’t send me back. Even if you weren’t my third owner… if they find out I-I got my cuff off, that would mean a direct sentence to the Trinket Program.” Ben’s frantic breaths became overcome with sobs that hit Lee like punches. “I… I won’t fight anymore! I won’t do it again, j-just… please. I’ll be exactly how you want me to be. I’ll be p-perfect, I swear!” Lee flinched his hand closer, brushing his fingertips against Ben’s spine and the back of his head. Ben buried his face in his hands and ducked his head as if he was about to be snatched up. Lee’s fingers settled gently, making no move to coil around Ben’s shivering  body. “You really think I’m going to turn you in?” Lee asked in a hushed voice. “Y-you… you said I was on my last chance. You said if I-I—” “Yeah, I know what I said, but…” Lee’s eyes trailed to the empty space on Ben’s wrist that the cuff normally occupied. He wondered what it must have felt like, to have a brush with freedom and decide to throw it away. “I don’t get it,” Lee admitted. “You saved me.” Ben kept his head down and sniffled. Didn’t answer. “You… you had a chance,” Lee said, desperate to follow his logic. “You got the cuff off. Why did you go looking for someone to help me?” Ben mumbled something. Lee angled himself closer, cocking his head to listen. “What?” “I couldn’t tell if you were breathing,” Ben half-shouted. Though he lifted his head, his gaze remained pointed down, uncooperative for even a second of eye contact. Scoffing, Lee shook his head incredulously. “So what?” Heaving an exhausted sigh, Ben didn’t elaborate. “I’m just trying to understand,” Lee insisted. “I thought you hated me.” Ben’s eyes finally darted up, rife with frustration. “That doesn’t mean I could leave you to die! I was the only one besides those thugs who knew you were there. If I hadn’t done something… it would be as if I killed you myself.” Lee stared until Ben lost his nerve and started to shy away. Pulling his fingertips away from Ben’s back, Lee gingerly tilted his chin up. Ben flinched, but he met Lee’s eyes again. “Thank you,” Lee said. Ben clenched his jaw. “You… you’re really not sending me to the Facility?” “No. Fuck no.” Dropping his hand, Lee shut his eyes for a moment. He could feel the drugs and exhaustion lacing his body beginning to drag him back under. He swore that Ben was starting to look the same kind of weary too, now that relief had to be settling in. “That salve is great,” Lee said. “But it takes energy from your body to do its stuff. I know you couldn’t have gotten any sleep in that thing.” He nodded at the glass case and pulled his hands away from Ben completely. “So, just stay right here. Lay down and get some rest.” Ben reacted immediately, laying down with what could only be frightened obedience. As if Lee might change his mind if he didn’t do exactly as he was told. “That… I mean, that wasn’t an order,” Lee said, face flushing. He leaned back, putting his head on the pillow behind him, and sighed. “Listen. If they come and try to put you back in that thing or take you away, just shout for me. Understand?” When Ben didn’t answer, Lee looked down at the pillow on his lap. There was still abundant fear on Ben’s face, along with a heavy dose of skepticism that Lee couldn’t blame him for having. “I mean it,” Lee said. “Understand?” Ben hesitated, then nodded. Without a word, he laid down with his back to Lee.

[spn-ficfanatic]

F*ck Cancer- Ch 8: The End (Final)

SERIES MASTERLIST - CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE - CHAPTER FOUR - CHAPTER FIVE - CHAPTER SIX - CHAPTER SEVEN

A/N: This is it guys, the final chapter. No summary, the title speaks for itself. Let me know if you laughed, let me know if you cried, let me know if you decide to unfollow me after this cuz I’m scum (but please don’t?). Second A/N at the bottom.

Genre: Angst all the way

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean x Platonic!Reader* *For the Dean ladies/lads: it may not be romantic between him and the reader, but it’s a very close brotherly/sisterly relationship and I still think y’all will really enjoy it :)

Words: 2412

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You thought a lot about death. You wondered if it would hurt, or if you might just fall asleep... if you would even remember who you were when the time came. Would you go to heaven, or hell? If it was hell, would Crowley cut you some slack? If it was heaven, well… what even WAS heaven? Would your parents be there? Would you have an imaginary Sam to keep you company, until the real one could join you?

Sam thought a lot about what came after death. Not being able to wake up every morning and spoon you until you opened your eyes and kissed his neck. Not sitting with you in the garden anymore, watching the family of foxes behind your house as they grew up and had cubs. Not being able to follow the foxes and have babies of your own. Moreso, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what he would do next. You wanted him to sell the house and go back to hunting, but he couldn’t see a life after you.

Dean mostly thought about ways to save you. Sure, you’d had this conversation with them before and they’d promised not to look. But he did anyway, while you slept he hid away in his room and scoured as many books and websites as he could. Columns of printed paper highlighted in various colours filled his wardrobe to the brim, hidden from view. Suddenly the man who loathed research found himself living and breathing the pages of any ancient book he could get his hands on. Bobby had brought some with him when he came for the wedding, and continued to look on his own back at his house. But time was drawing nearer, the inevitable just around the corner, and hope was running out.

The day you heard loud crashes coming from Dean’s room was the day you knew... If there ever WAS hope, it was now gone. Of course you knew he was still looking for ways to save you, you weren’t stupid. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly optimistic that he might come through with some miracle, despite what you told them. Sam looked at you with concern and you gave him a small sad smile.

“He’s been trying to find ways to save me,” you whispered to him, too tired to speak at a regular volume anymore. You saw a flash of anger cross his eyes, and brushed your palm over his cheek affectionately. “Don’t be angry with him, he needed a distraction from watching me die. You need to help him now though, because I think his world just crumbled.”

You smiled sadly, and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the lips. He nodded, and sniffled as he stood up and tread carefully to his older brother’s room while the noise continued. You listened to the exchange from the lounge room, unable to do anything but sit helplessly.

Sam opened the door and his eyes widened to find hundred of pages floating through the air. Feathers too, and he spotted a torn pillow on the floor. Books and papers were littered across the carpet, and Dean’s laptop lay on top with a broken screen. The older brother hadn’t even noticed Sam had walked in, he was too busy swearing and shredding the hundreds of papers he’d collected over the last few months.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, stepping forward and grabbing his arm. Dean thrust his arm away and didn’t respond, continuing to destroy whatever he could lay his hands on. When he reached for one of Bobby’s ancient books Sam yelled with alarm and grabbed him harder, pushing him onto the bed. “Snap out of it man, Bobby will kill you if you wreck tha-”

“Shut it Sam, get out of here,” Dean responded, moving to stand on his feet again before Sam pushed him back down. Dean glared at him, seeing red. In one fell swoop he leapt up and pushed him back, sending him into the desk.

“I’m not leaving Dean,” he growled, standing tall in front of his big brother.

“Fine, then I will,” he replied, making for the door. Sam rushed to block his way, and Dean shook his head with a humourless laugh before punching him in the jaw. Sam staggered back slightly, but quickly recovered before pushing Dean back into the room. He hit the wall and fell to the floor.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he told him angrily, “not like this. You’re not gonna go out and get blind stinking drunk and pick a fight with a guy who probably doesn’t deserve it. You wanna punch someone? Punch me. I’m the one who brought us here. I’m the one who fell in love with a dying woman. I’m the one who’s forced you to watch Y/N die.”

Tears were filling his eyes at this point, but Dean didn’t notice through his own. He stood up, using the now broken and unstable desk for support. It creaked under his weight, its legs cracking.

“Fuck off Sam, this isn’t on you OK? This is all on me. I’m supposed to be the big brother, I’m supposed to get you guys out of trouble, that’s my damn job. Always has been, always will be,” he growled, kicking a nearby wastebasket in frustration. He paused, bringing his hands up and rubbing his face, resting them behind his head as he looked away with tears in his eyes.

“That’s not on you Dean,” Sam told him, calmer now as he watched his brother’s wall collapse. He slowly approached him, careful not to step on anything in the process. “You’re not here because you’re just some guy we’d hired to save her life, you’re here because we’re a family. And sometimes part of that is accepting that family doesn’t end with death.”

Sam voice shuddered as he spoke that word. He generally tried to avoid it when it came to speaking about you but lately had been trying to be more open to the idea, which meant not shying away from it. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Y/N doesn’t blame you for not finding a cure. I don’t blame you. I’m a little pissed that you kept it from me truth be known, but that’s a whole other thing.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth raised slightly in a half-hearted smirk, and he nodded slightly. He sniffed, and brought his hands down and rested them on his hips.

“How’s she doing?” he asked quietly. “Really?”

Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair, sitting down on Dean’s bed.

“She’s sleeping a lot, not eating much. Her memory is just getting worse, along with the headaches and the nosebleeds. So, everything you’d expect I guess.”

Dean frowned and leaned back against the wall he stood in front of. As he opened his mouth to respond he heard a crash coming from the lounge-room, and as he and Sam shared an alarmed glance they both bolted from the room shouting your name.

They found you on the ground where Sam had left you in your wheelchair, shaking as a seizure wracked your body. Sam fell to the floor next to you and rolled you to your side.

“Dean!” he cried in a panic. “Wha-what do I do?”

“You’re doing it man, just sit with her,” he responded, trying to stay calm for his little brother as he pulled his mobile out and called for an ambulance. He patted him on the shoulder in reassurance, “just hang on Sammy, I’m getting help.”

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As Dr Wheeler approached them, they could see on her face that the news wasn’t good. They didn’t wait for her to reach them, standing from their chairs and meeting her halfway instead.

“How is she?” Sam asked desperately. They’d been waiting anxiously for 3 hours while they examined you and called in your doctor for a second opinion. Dr Wheeler sighed, and gestured for them to take a seat with her.

“No, please Doc, we’ve been sitting for hours,” Dean told her firmly. “Just tell us.”

Sally nodded in understanding, and cleared her throat. “Y/N is comfortable for now, but the tumour has increased in size significantly since I last saw her. If nothing else, it’s confirmation that any further treatment would have merely caused her unnecessary suffering,” she explained, trying to soften the blow. “I’m afraid other than making her comfortable, we can’t do anything more for her.”

Dean nodded, looking at the ground. “How long?”

Sally looked at the two men sadly. The older brother couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes, and the younger stood staring into space, hearing but not seeing. She’d seen it hundreds of times before and it never got any easier, but something about these men made it harder than most.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t expect she’ll make it through the night.”

Sam lifted his eyes to hers, tears pooling but not falling. Behind her he could see the sun rising through the window, turning a beautiful shade of purple that he knew you would have loved. The idea that you might not see it set nearly broke him, but some inner strength he didn’t know he had kept him standing.

“Can we take her home please?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course,” she told him with a sad smile. “I can arrange for a nurse to join you and administer pain relief, and an ambulance to take her home and connect her to a drip. It should be enough to get her through relatively pain-free and, hopefully, conscious enough to allow you to say goodbye.”

Against his better judgement a small sob escaped Dean’s throat, but he quickly cleared it and avoided his brothers gaze.

“Sam, why don’t you go sit with Y/N? I can do the paperwork,” he offered, looking at Sally for the first time. She nodded with a small smile, indicating this would be fine, and led the boys to your room.

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You were asleep for most of the day but this wasn’t unusual for you anymore. You woke up for an hour around lunchtime, sitting on Sam’s lap while he and Dean shared a beer on your porch. You were wrapped snugly in your quilt, and coupled with Sam’s body warmth you were very toasty. You were grateful when they didn’t make a fuss when you opened your eyes; Dean offered you a beer and you enjoyed a small sip as they continued talking about whatever topic they could think of to fill the silence. Dean told you Bobby was on his way and you gave a small nod, resting your head against your husband’s chest and looking out over your garden.

“Will you guys be ok?” you asked quietly, and silence fell.

Sam’s grip on you tightened as you heard Dean’s footsteps approach you. As he knelt down to face you, you noted sadly that his eyes were red and puffy.

“Not really,” he told you honestly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “But we know that you’ll be safe wherever you are.”

“Do hunters, do hunters go to heaven? Do you think?” you asked, already running out of breath.

“Yes,” Sam answered, not missing a beat. “And even if they don’t, Crowley is going to make sure you do.”

You wrinkled your brow in confusion. “You didn’t-”

“Make a deal?” Dean finished for you with a reassuring smile. “No, no deal. Just a favour, he owed me one.”

Dean didn’t miss the sparkle in your eyes at that news. “So my mom…”

“You’ll see her again,” Dean promised solemnly. “She’ll look after you.”

A tear slid down your cheek and you nodded slightly. Sam leaned over and planted a kiss on your cheek, and you turned your head slowly to look at him.

“Until we’re together again,” you told him simply. He had held it together before this, but couldn’t stop the dam from breaking at that moment. Unable to answer he simply nodded, and kissed you on the lips. You let your head fall to his chest again to look at Dean, who was unable to stop his own tears, and gave him a small smile.

“I know,” you whispered, before letting your eyes close for what would be the last time.

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EPILOGUE

As Dean pulled Baby up to the sand he cut the engine. They had been driving for 2 days waiting for something, anything, to speak to them. To say they were looking for a sign was corny; perhaps it was more guidance that they sought. Neither had spoken much since your death. They wordlessly picked out an urn to collect as many of your ashes as they could and, with Bobby in tow, drove you to a remote location in the woods to give you the hunter’s funeral you deserved.

And now here they were, thousands of miles away from Austin and standing on a beach a few hours out of Seattle, the first they’d come across since heading west. They took off their shoes as they looked over the horizon, the sun setting, and as Dean headed towards the water Sam followed behind carrying your urn.

The water felt warmer than it should have been, inviting almost, and they walked in until the water lapped at their knees.

“She’ll like it here,” Sam commented, watching the children play further down the beach and a family of ducks floating nearby. Dean nodded in silent agreement as Sam removed the lid with a trembling hand. He waited until the breeze came, and gently tipped your ashes out of the urn. The breeze took you easily, and you danced in the air gracefully before landing on the water. A small wave enveloped you, and soon you were scattered amongst the fish and coral underneath the surface.

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A/N 2: OK, so, in my defense nearly every fic I write the Reader makes some miraculous recovery. I felt it was time to branch out from this. I hope I did it justice, and I hope everyone still liked the ending even though I saw many of you hoping she’d make it.

If you like my stuff please be sure to ask to be on one of my taglists! I’ve been thinking for a while that I’d like to do another Buffy episode rewrite... if anyone has a request for an episode send me an ask!

Thanks for joining me on this journey... love y’all!

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SERIES MASTERLIST - CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE - CHAPTER FOUR - CHAPTER FIVE - CHAPTER SIX - CHAPTER SEVEN

MY MASTERLIST

Tag Lists (Open)

Series Taglist: @deghostyboi , @dreaminemz , @spence-rreid, @almostelegantfire , @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93, @sandlee44

“Dean/Jensen” taglist:  @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk, @perpetualabsurdity, @mlovesstories

“Everything” taglist: @angelsandwinchesters, @grace-for-sale, @growningupgeek, @iamnotsaneatall, @nanie5, @waywardasfudge, @im-dead-inside05, @julzdec, @adoptdontshoppets, @meghanbeinghappy, @sleepylunarwolf , @sammysgirl1997, @imaginationisgrowth, @screechingartisancashbailiff , @flamencodiva

People who requested tags, that I cannot tag (but will still mention because I feel bad :( ): @ronja-uebrick, @lilydarcy, @cabbagewithissues

[ursoself-satisfying]

Long Away

cus its what he says when he answers a phone!!! get it??

Brian May x F!Reader, NSFW 

A/N: my first Brian fic!!! finally here!!! not my best but ok ::)) ALMOST 6k words rip its one step to being done w my list so thats good!! n ilhsm wow :::”””))) uuhhhhh this is the third in a series oh phone smut!! I did Rog (Calling All Girls) then Deaky (Pain Is So Close To Pleasure) n now Bri n I am DONE!!! YEET took my forever tho I’ve been kinda blocked lately rip ::// also u all should know I listened EXCLUSIVELY to 39 on repeat while writing this,,,,,

Warnings: SMUT, phone sex,, mutual masturbation, language, not the best writing ive ever done lol, the boys being adorable at the end rip except roger the lil shit 

“So, what were you thinking about to get you up so late, or, uh, not so late?” You couldn’t remember. You laughed as you pushed the cooking eggs around the pan, watching them slowly brown. They sizzled and popped in the quiet morning air, the only other noise echoing through the small apartment being those of your conversation. The phone was caught between your ear and your shoulder, cold and hard against your neck but warmed from the several minutes of your standing at the stove, waiting intently for your lover’s response. Your nose filled with the metallic scent of Brian’s scrambling egg substitute ears the same with the subtle buzz of a landline, and eyes squinting in the bright early sun sneaking between the thin blinds. The morning was calm and there was nothing better to wake up to than Brian’s sleepy voice, jet-lagged and soft, affected by the time difference between wherever it was he was touring and your home. A chill pecked at your skin, body shivering, starting at your head and shaking you down. The phone nearly fell from the cramped crux of your neck and shoulder as you felt the cold rush through you then escape, catching the speaker with a small exclamation. The panhandle, to contrast the rest of your apartment, was warm in your hand, and the anticipation of your meal kept you going, even if you could barely keep your eyes open.

“I missed you,” the voice on the phone started, interrupted by a yawn which was followed by one of your own, mouth wide and eyes closed. You raised your brows at your own reaction and covered your mouth instinctively. Giving the pan one more shake, you leaned over the flame, heat hitting your face and you decided your meal was more than ready to eat. On the other end of the line, Brian could hear your breakfast sizzling in the background as you slid the scrambled eggs onto a plate, guiding utensils clinking on the porcelain. Before he’d finished, you’d taken a small bite of egg, picking at it with your fingers, hissing at the temperature and moving it quickly to your mouth, tasting the bland spread before taking the warm plate to a table. “That and I was reminiscing about that Christmas at your Aunt Sally’s-” he finished.

When he spoke, an animalistic noise left your mouth as you choked on your food, the first bite not making it down your throat as you stood at the counter, “BRIAN-” You couldn’t finish your words or your bite as you began to laugh, only grateful no bits of yellow egg substitute shot out your nose. Your shoulder was relieved of duty as you moved the phone to your hand and took your plate to the small table you had set against the wall, regaining your composure as you sat down. You attempted another bite and just laughed, picturing his surely offended face, feeling your own heat up. “Darling, what were you doing thinking about something like that?”

The guitarist repeated himself with more conviction and implication, “I miss you, [Y/N].” He’d called, you realized, with very specific intentions. Between the sounds of your fork scraping your plate and your own chewing, you could barely make out the shifting sounds of a zipper coming undone on the other end of your call. “I really miss you.” You smiled and looked down at your half-finished food, the heavy want in his word dangling around your lobes like a pair of diamond earrings.

Glancing at the clock, you considered how much time you could get away with spending alone inside without your ‘concerned’ neighbors becoming too suspicious. “It’s a bit early for me.” Your voice was amused but muffled through a mouthful of breakfast food. You scooped another bite into your smiling mouth, leaning down to catch it and snorted a bit, thinking about your long bodied boyfriend laying spread out on some small futon in the floor, desperately trying to get some privacy in a temporary home with paper thin walls. “What time is it in Japan again, love?”

Brian grunted, obviously struggling with his tight jeans, “S’bout 7, I suppose.” There then came a loud clatter and you ripped the speaker from your ear with an uncomfortable expression. The man on the other end cursed and came back to the phone quickly, “Sorry, love, fucking floor is slippery as all hell-” He huffed and you let out a pained laugh at his fumble.

You smiled sympathetically. “Aren’t you staying with a family tonight? Are you sure you can do this right now, Bri?” Leaning back from your empty plate, you helped one leg up on your on the seat of your chair. This was to spread your thighs for easy access, but you refrained from touching yourself just yet, allowing your wetness to grow. You were becoming aware of your physical self, the softness of the t-shirt fabric tight on your shoulders and the elastic of the underwear you wore sitting fit at your belly. Neither articles of clothing actually belonged to you, which only made your core grow even hotter.

The man on the phone was breathing heavily now as he answered, “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter much, love, ‘cus I’m doing it anyway.” He panted and sighed with a muted thud following.

You stifled a concerned laugh, “And what if someone walks in? It’s not like they’d be asleep or something.” One hand held the phone to your face still and the other sat anxiously between your teeth, “I mean, I don’t know if you want another repeat of Aunt Sally’s-”

“I quite enjoyed Christmas.” No doubt, a shit-eating grin stretched across his face. “In fact, I quite enjoy every trip we take to Aunt Sally’s.” Yes, you could see it, absolutely smug and toothy.

You practically spit at the phone, “Oh, shut it, May, you aren’t the one living with the constant comments about how we nearly gave her a heart attack. My poor nan didn’t need to know I was,” you mimicked your grandmother’s deep and accusatory tone and your fingers were bent in air quotes, “sexually active.”

Brian laughed, deep and round, more like a hum that you could practically feel vibrating in your ear. God, you wished he was here. “Speaking of being sexually active-” ‘Smooth transition’, you thought. “I’ve got a bit of a predicament here, to be perfectly blunt, and perhaps,” syllables at the end of his sentence dragged long, “you could help me out?”

You leaned your head back in the wooden chair and finally let your bent leg fall to the side and open up your crotch to contact. The cotton of your boyfriend’s briefs were soaked through and hot to the touch as you let the pads of your fingers prod at the dampness. A long exhale carried through the call to your lover and he shuddered in response. “Alright,” you chuckled softly, “give you something to think about- Better than Aunt Sally’s.” You raised your brows and though you couldn’t see him, you were sure he raised his as well, judging by the provocative laugh he let slip. “I suppose you want me to tell you what I’m wearing, huh?” You began, biting your lip and letting a mischevious smile connect your cheeks.

The scent of him stayed on his clothes and you were carrying it with you. His shirt almost fit you almost as well as it fits him, God knows how tight he wore them. His briefs, which were no longer clean and now instead were dark with your leaking arousal, fit you perfectly, actually, waistband stretching around the pouch of your stomach and crotch. When pulled up, they hugged your hips and mound beautifully. Of course, had Brian not been so thin and so fond of the fashionable skin tight clothing, your frequent adorning of his tees and unmentionables would have literally been less fitting. While your boyfriend was a stick of a man he still somehow still managed to completely envelop you in his embrace.

Brian’s heavy breathing clouded your hearing. “Please- Please do,” he said softly, “What’re you wearing, love?” Not realizing you’d paused so long, so enraptured in his sounds and the pictures you’d logged of him, you guessed he was becoming impatient. From the small pants, little bursts of hot breaths, you could hear his actions. He must have had his long talons wrapped firmly around his length and you doubted he’d undressed at all, judging by the rustle of clothes that came with every movement.

Your teeth held your lip tight considering your answer to his question. “Yours,” you said breathlessly, a soft laugh slipping out. Cold digits pushed your lover’s underwear to the side and slowly slid up and down your slit, collecting the warmth of your discharge on your middle finger. Your nipples, already hard from the morning air, only grew more sensitive and strained against the thin fabric covering them, not able to shield any silhouette of your arousal. You gasped at the chill that hit your clit when you made contact. “Your, uh,” you shivered, “your shirt and your briefs, Bri-”

“My briefs?” He asked, incredulous and amused. You were sure he was smiling, cheeky stretched with pride.

You continued playing with yourself, not yet penetrating your core but tracing small circles around ur bud, slowly to not excite yourself too much. You wanted to wait and really enjoy the call, but the longer you waited, exposed and just absorbing your lover’s voice, the harder it got. “Yes, your briefs, the little pink ones,” you smiled, “but you’re gonna have to wait ‘til I wash them to get them back.”

“How wet are you?” His voice is laced with expectancy and strain as he interrupted.

Two fingers spread your lower lips apart, opening yourself up to the cold dampness of his indeed soaked underwear. “Absolutely soaked,” your voice was lowered now, just slightly, “and it’s all thanks to you.”

The musician hummed again and his voice seemed to drop an octave, “I bet you are, just for me,” he trailed off, the words lost in his heavy breaths. “You always look so fucking beautiful in my clothes. You look so,” you heard a sharp inhale and he sighed, finishing his statement with more conviction, “mine.”

The ball in your throat went down hard, swallowing his words with a struggle. Mine. You loved it. You adored him and being his and him being yours. It wasn’t possession between you two, and if it was, it was mutual, but it felt more like belonging than anything else. Brian had a light around you that only seemed to shine through your presence, and you were sure it was mutual. He felt like no one else ever had and you loved him for it.

The more aroused you got at the thought of him stretched out in some small, inappropriate place, the more your senses tunneled. This focus spread from your outsides in, your head to your heart, your ears, your mouth, your eyes, your heart. Though it wasn’t usually loud at this hour, any noises from the outdoors drained. The backs of your eyes were pasted with images of Brian like a wave overcoming you, his magnificent hair the foam crashing against the sand of your thighs and the curves of his back rolling like the current on a stormy day. He was the high tide and you were the rocks on the beach waiting to be smoothed over and washed away. You were taken with him and he was all you wanted. It was almost enough to imagine him, practically able to feel him, around you, hands on your stomach and sliding upwards. It was almost enough.

The lanky, 6’2” guitarist was cold and cramped on the floor of the small bathroom. The telephone he held to his ear tethered him to reality, but your voice pushed him further into fantasy. You were in his clothes, ass tight and shapely in his own briefs, tits barely held back by his shirt. He could see you in the morning chill, nipples unintentionally hardening in reaction to the temperature. He wanted to be there so badly to push that shirt up or just rip it off you, he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep you warm with his body on yours.

Every time his calloused palm slid down his length he closed his eyes and pictured you, in the kitchen of all places, legs wide open with the dampness of the borrowed undergarments staring him down. Growing uncomfortable spending so long leaning up against the wall, he shifted, his extended leg hitting the door in his small confines. It echoed more than he would have liked to, the hardness of his clog against the thin door causing a worrisome amount of noise, but he hoped not enough to draw any attention to him. With his other knee folded sideways under him, it wasn’t the most comfortable pose, but it stopped the door from opening, protecting what shred of privacy n dignity he had left, though he supposed that left the second he moaned at the sight of you in his clothes.

Brian’s long, practiced fingers wrapped fully around himself as he slouched on the floor beside the tub, using the edge of it as support so he didn’t slip onto his back. His pace was slow and teasing, to the rhythm of your light breaths, wafting through the small speaker at his ear. Up and down, every inch of his cock not covered by his large hand was cold and damp and any contact to it made him bite back a moan. “Where are you?” A softer voice came to him, cutting through his pleasurable haze.

He took in a breath and raised his brows, “The bathroom,” he started, “small bathroom, besides the tub-”

“Do you think anyone knows you’re there?” He bit his lip at your question, “Do they know you’re there, dick out and hot, all hot, for me? Do they know it’s because of me?” Before the man could reply in your pause, you continued, “Can they hear you as I can?”

Brian chuckled softly, letting his pillowy bottom lip slip from between the cage of his teeth. “I think they’ve figured it out, and if not yet then they will.” He closed his eyes and listened to you.

Every time you spoke he thought of your lips, everything they did so well. They pressed against him, his lips, his eyelids, all along his jaw and neck then down his chest. You always looked up at him with those shiny eyes, eyelashes like curtains and your mouth suctioning to his hip bones. Old bruises suddenly became apparent through his open shirt and he could feel you, wet and swirling your teasing tongue across his skin. Worse, he imagined his hand, damp from his pre-cum spread down his shaft, was those same lips responsible for the fading but still pink spots that littered his torso. Wrapped around him, smooth and slick with your tongue putting pressure on his head, sliding over him and sucking- He audibly gasped.

“Tell me what you would do,” he spoke with strangulation from his want, “if you were here and they could hear you.” With his head leaned back, he eagerly awaited your response ut his mind was already running a hundred miles an hour with memories of you in tight spaces with him much like this. He was thin enough the square footage was no issue for him when it came to being with you. He already imagined you there, low between his legs and trapping him in your mouth, nails digging into his thighs, moans vibrating through his veins and bringing him to another level- But he wanted to hear it from you, all the ways you would use him first.

Floating around you like a mist was the scent of him that you’d shaken off his clothes in your movements, positioning and repositioning your self against the small wooden table in front of you to get the best angle to pleasure yourself. The sides of your fingers rubbed roughly against the hem of Brian’s briefs as you pushed one finger at a time past your soaking lips and into the cavern of your sex. Your back ached from the arch you held to support yourself on the surface before you. Two fingers deep in you couldn’t compare to his feeling, his length pleasantly stretching you. Scissoring your digits inside you, knuckles hitting and fingerprints pruning, you did your best to imitate exactly what you wanted.

Your answer was breathy and low, “I would want you under me, inside me.” You pictured him again, seeing his breath floating above his head and him pumping his cock in preparation for you, beads of arousal hitting your pussy as you knelt above him. “My hands on your chest,” you said slowly, lowly, “and I would sink down on your dick and I’m nice and tight and warm for you.” You pulled your fingers in and out of yourself with the soft sounds of your wetness echoing through the empty apartment. “God, I want you in me.” Thumb pressing against your clit, you so desperately wanted the assistance of your other hand but you didn’t dare lose your lover’s voice. It was an awkward angle at which you dug inside yourself and held your arm to stimulate your bud as well as scrape at your walls for some relief.

“Are your tits out?” You heard his voice and it pulled you back. He didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Take ‘em out. I love it when,” he took a breath and swallowed dryly, “when your tits are out when we fuck but don’t take my shirt off, alright?” You smiled and chuckled, moving with some difficulty to pull up your shirt, phone on your shoulder and hand now on your breast. Your head was back and your neck looked longer as it curved like the smooth silhouette of a seashell. The pointed bud of your breasts was rolling between your fingers and you moaned happily.

You slid in another finger and went down another knuckle. You could hear it, smell it, feel it all emanating from the tunnel between your thighs. You felt your face heat up the more involuntary sounds erupted from your the back of your throat. “Brian,” you would weakly call out for him every few minutes, “Brian, how close are you?”

Brian had stopped speaking except for the occasional muttering of your name, “Fuckin’ close-” Guttural groans you could tell were being choked back. “I wish you were here,” he whispered. You hummed in response, the building heat at your core overwhelming you. Like a wire slithering around a pump inside you, you felt the pressure would make you pop any second. Trying to beat your orgasm, your fingers sped up and your hands moved down to care for your clit as you had your breasts seconds before. You shook the pads of your fingers rapidly and desperately over the bundle of nerves and your other hand was knuckles deep in your cave, coaxing and curling to get you to that high.

One leg was extended and tense, stretched long in front of you, your toes just barely reaching the wall in front of you and the other bent at your side began caving in on you as your insides coiled up and your breath hitched. The ends of your nails reached that curve and you jolted forward with a loud, high pitched moan, “Brian, I’m-!” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your eyes had trouble staying open as this tingling wave rushed through you and you came, grunting softly. The phone nearly fell from its place at your neck but you caught with a wet palm and held it, white-knuckled, to your ear, not depriving Brian of any part of your release. His name rolled off your tongue like a song stuck in your head, you couldn’t help it. He was the song constantly in your head and as your pleasure seeped through the cotton you sat on, past your fingers and onto the chair, he was all you could think about.

Brian was over the edge, trying so hard to wait for you. It was torture, every sound you made, and all he had was his imagination to accompany them. God, he would remember how beautiful you looked, first thing in the morning, waking him up with a hot, wet ‘good morning’. He squeezed the appendage in his hand, sucking in a sharp breath and shutting his eyes tightly. He could imagine your scent so vividly he swore you were there with him, that it was your hand getting him off and now his own. His knuckles hit the zipper of his pants with a soft click every time he pulled his hand down and he tucked the phone by his ear to use his other hand to frantically unbutton the rest of his shirt, which previously had been hiked halfway up his stomach.

His breathing was heavy and uneven, not steadying as he flung open his shirt in preparation for his finale. The newly exposed skin of his was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, the small bathroom carefully containing all the body heat he generated. The man went to hold the phone again with a grunt, going to push his lower back against the wall and sit straight up. “Brian,” he heard his name coherently drift to him from the lips of his unseen angel, “how close are you?”

He panted, “Fuckin’ close-” He was close, and he honed in on the images in the back of his mind, the rest of the room fading away for a moment. How he wished he could be sheathed in you right now, hilted and filling you, rather than depending on his own abilities to find his high. It was harder, but knowing you were there with him in spirit, wishing the same thing, made it easier. “I wish you were here,” to fuck me, to let me cum inside you, to kiss me, to let me kiss you, let me hold you, just to see you, any part of you- He couldn’t say anything more and put his energy into holding back his growls, boiling up from his stomach as the heat built up like a forgotten kettle whistling on a stove.

That when she moaned, in that small voice, the one she hated that only came out when she lost control. “Brian, I’m-!” He finished for her, or rather with her. His tongue stuck to the top of his throat and he choked back all the lewd noises fighting for escape and he came, begging and wildly jerking himself off with quick shakes of his fist. He pulled back, aiming his tip towards his upper body. He thought about you, about you spasming around him and your tight pussy walls rolling his head, pushing in and out of you. Your face, though, was responsible for his release, the shape of your mouth when you came with him, the way you bit your lip and pushed your jaw forward- It clearly drove him crazy.

His own face contorted to that ecstasy, hair sweaty and stuck to his cheeks, curling like a cupid’s and framing him beautifully. He smiled, all open-mouthed and toothy, and his eyes closed. His brows were raised, springing up as all the tension left his body, relaxation raining down on him as spurts of hot jizz landed on his chest. With his cock twitching in his hand, he grunted breathlessly, fully relieved of his physical need for you, for now at least.

The light fluid dripped down the veins on his dick and pooled in two places just above his belly button and at his pelvis. It lasted a few seconds and every breath he took quivered in his lungs as he was lowered from his orgasm. His seed leaked from his head and the fresh drips were hot on his skin as the dampness quickly got cold. Brian inhaled deeply and blinked quickly, the room coming back to him and his visions of you fading. You were silent on the on the other line, all that was coming from the phone being soft little pants that nearly got Brian back up again. With his limp extension lying on stomach and his mess seeping slowly down his body to the fabric at his waist, it suddenly occurred to him the dirtiness of the situation.

The guitarist cursed as he reached for a wad of toilet paper and began sopping up all the ejaculate before it could leave any stains on his clothes, especially considering how dark each piece he wore was. The phone was weakly balanced between his nimble fingers again and he listened to you do the same as him.

“That was fun,” you said, slouching on the chair, still covered in your own juices, hands and thighs slick with them. Your face still felt hot and you were sure you were, in the very least, pink if not red from the activity. “Quick, too, but no complaints.” You smiled and breathed slowly, filling with warm, tired air at every intake. You could hear your boyfriend rumble out a small laugh at your reply.

He hummed lowly and asked, voice slightly rough, “Have you gotten up yet?” As you had prepared to stand, you paused.

He stopped you in your tracks and you considered what had occurred to him so suddenly. “If you mean cleaning myself up,” you said with a sly smile and eyes squinted in anticipation, “then no, I guess.” You paused for a moment, “Guess I wanted you to linger a bit longer.”

Brian huffed at the thought of you still wet, soaking wet, and in his clothes, so hot and tight on you, waiting for his command. “Do something for me,” he started, the rasp in his voice still apparent, not bothering to clear his throat, “suck yourself off, your fingers-” He could hear you humming in response and it drove him to shudder, “Taste yourself and think of me.” He was now standing at the sink, leaning against the counter, back to the mirror, and hurriedly buttoning up his shirt, missing every other snap. He had to push the picture of you, fingers in your mouth and eyes low, cheeks flushed and lips soft and wet, he pushed them from his mind.

This was his final request tho he had no time to enjoy it as reality came rushing back to him and was suddenly aware of the sounds beyond the bathroom he’d commandeered. Dinner must have started and his time for privacy in the lull between the band’s return and their next meal was over.

A grin spread across your face as you took your middle finger and slid it up your dripping slit, doing as you were told. Without a word, you moaned and scooped the leakage from between your legs, the clear liquid slipping off your pruned pads. It dangled above your mouth and slipped in the digits slowly, letting every sound soak through your skin. You could feel your own pleasured little noises vibrating down your bones, lips clamped at your knuckles. You sucked, tongue scraping your leftover love off your fingertips and swallowing slowly. The sticky sounds, lewd and loud, echoed in the emptiness of your mouth and you pulled your hand away slowly, smacking your lips when you were finished.

The taste of your own pussy hung on your taste buds, salty and sweet, and you did think of him, of Brian, and how often he must have had such a flavor lingering on his lips after helping you out, all those times before practice when he would hoist you against a shelf and force his face so deep between your thighs you worried he’d never emerge. You thought about him plucking at the strings of his acoustic after lazily wiping his sticky fingers on his pants and his mouth on the back of his hand, or when he would kiss you, tongue first, immediately after your orgasm and the two of you melded together to create something wholly unique. You only wished you tasted him now in addition to or instead of yourself alone.

Brian was prepping himself to face the inevitable teasing of his mates, but then came a sound from your end of the call. Soft moans filled his ear, tracing their way past his curls and making him shiver. There was the quiet sound of suction, like a pop and a squish, those wonderful wet sounds only your mouth could make, that indicated to him you were indeed following his orders. “Fuck,” he whispered, pushing at arousal growing again in his trousers. He wasn’t strong enough to not fall victim to his own temptation. “I- I love you so fucking much,” he said quietly, “you’re such a good girl for me.”

A light smile graced his face and he sniffed, clearing his throat as you responded, “I love you, Brian.” Your voice was like a plush pillow and all the worries of confronting the boys that hung over his head evaporated and he wanted to see you. “You better go, right?”

The musician sighed, tucking the front of his shirt into his pants with some difficulty. He stared at the door and what he assumed on the other wide was a huddle of suspicious ears. “I suppose I should, shouldn’t I?” His fingers went to pinch at the bridge of his nose and his eyes shut tightly then slick his sticky, sweaty hair back with his palm, “Time to face the music, then.” He pushed himself off the sink and turned away from his exit for a moment, to send one more word to you, “I love you, [Y/N]. I miss you- I miss you so much,” he choked out.

“No sappy shit, Brian Harold May!” This time he really did choke. He let out a guffaw and shook his head. Your voice came barrelling out and he just laughed.

“Alright, darling, no ‘sappy shit’. Love you.” His tone was still soft and as your grace-filled ‘I miss you, too, love you’ came to him, he couldn’t help but grin as he finally hung up. Turning back to the door, he puffed out his chest, filling it with all his confidence, and he opened himself to the ready ridicule and questions that awaited him, leaving behind the sweat and sex-scented bathroom, phone still awkwardly sat beside the soap dispenser. “Way better than Aunt Sally’s,” he muttered.

The click ended the call and suddenly you were cold. Perhaps it was the absence of your lover’s voice, or more likely it was the mid-morning air on your damp skin that you finally felt since your arousal had cooled off. Your knees popped as you stretched them out in front of you, arching your back as well and whining like one of Freddie’s cats with the same elongated body. A heavy sigh left your lips and you stood, finding your balance, before taking your dishes from what seemed like so long ago to the kitchen sink. The clattered as they fell in and you leaned tiredly on the counter, unsure of what to do next. Actually, you did know what to do, but you didn’t want to do it. Stripping where you were, and shivering after, you tossed the dirtied garments on the soiled chair, their fabrics soaking up the wetness you left behind, and you headed to the shower.

One finger drifted to your mouth as you made your way into the steaming bathroom, certain words encircling your head still. ‘Taste yourself and think of me.’ You planned on doing a bit more of that before the day was done.

BONUS (w the boys):

Roger leaned against the granite top of the small kitchen’s island and carefully sipped his tea from a petite bowl while the other boys, John and Fred, chatted animatedly at the dark wooden dining table. On the other side of the table sat a small, elderly man smoking a pipe and reading a newspaper, seeming completely immersed in his reading. This was the husband of the older woman in the kitchen, small and frail looking, but carrying a large tray full of steamed vegetables with ease. She scurried past the drummer, who lifted his bowl and straightened up, allowing her to get through. She continued prodding at the platter as she set it on the table, swatting John’s hand away. Fred snickered until he did the same without getting caught, burning his finger on a steaming cauliflower.

Brian stepped into the entryway of the dining room and the bustle of dinner preparations suddenly went quiet as all eyes turned on him. The tall man swallowed dryly, losing his train of thought and any will he had to stay in the awkward situation he faced, “I was just going to, uh,” he pointed to the stairs behind him with his thumb, “scrub up for dinner, yeah?” He nodded quickly with pursed lips and attempted to smooth out his improperly buttoned shirt all while a heavy blush spread over his face. He gave a pained smile and a thumbs up as he stepped back before turning to race to the upstairs bathroom, clogs thudding loudly on each step.

Roger turned to look at the two seated musicians in a moment of silence as they heard a shower start. Then they all started laughing. Deaky snorted. The man behind the paper briefly glanced over his news to eye the boys before raising his brow and shaking his head, returning to his article.

“He had some fun, didn’t he?” Fred laughed, holding their bassist’s arm.

“Oh, I’m sure he did, by the sounds of it.” John bit back.

The blonde rolled his eyes and took another sip of his cooling drink, “I’d like to see the carnage he left behind, to be honest, I’m sure it’s a sight.” Over his bowl, his brows rose.

Fred smiled slyly, “Now do you mean the girl or the room?” Deaky laughed again, wiping at his wrinkling nose and turning to the third member behind them.

Rog hummed, “Mm, both of them.” He winked in the direction of the boys and they ‘ooed’ delightfully. A minute passed of them giggling at the thought of Brian huddled in a tub or sink, weakly moaning at the sound of [Y/N] telling him off.

The woman in the kitchen had finished prepping the table, filling the table with plates of meats and vegetables, arrays of sauces accompanying it all. Bowls of rice were placed at each place setting and it was a mouthwatering sight.

“Dinner is ready!” She announced proudly, clasping her hands together, accent laying like a sheet over every syllable. The men seated turned to attention at her words and looked to her for permission to begin. “Go on! Yes, eat!” She waved her veiny hands, urging them to dig in. John smiled brightly and began serving himself neatly while Fred started by picking at his foods before deciding if he wanted any. The man of the house served himself neatly with a still stoic expression and kept his paper close.

Roger growled as he set down his empty bowl and strut to his seat, coming behind the hostess overlooking the feast. He lightly pinched her side and she squeaked. With a wink, the drummed plopped down beside her, “You didn’t say anything about dessert, Mrs. Hayashi.”

[ghanaspiritualecho]

AFTERLIFE COMMUNICATION, PSYCHICS, MEDIUMS AND SCEPTICS

There are all kinds of ways in which the dead differ from the living, psychology professor Richard Wiseman told me recently. “And one of them,” he said, “is that dead people tend to be rather particular about who they talk to. The dead,” he added, “prefer chatting to people who are imaginative. Creative. Highly sensitive.” The professor gives a barely perceptible nod in my direction. “You know: the credulous, the gullible and the deluded.”

Wiseman is an unusual academic: a former professional magician, he is now Professor of the Public Understanding of Psychology at the University of Hertfordshire, and recognised as Britain’s most eminent psychic sceptic. It was possibly an error of judgment to tell him that communication with the dead is an area in which I have had some personal experience. Or – to use a phrase that tends to recur whenever we discuss this subject – so I believe.

It happened six years ago, during an interview with the British medium Sally Morgan: a psychic who, on the strength of having seen both her televised and theatrical shows, I had concluded was not just a strikingly prolific channeller of spirits, but also the biggest charlatan on the block: a title which, in this area of human endeavour, is not easily gained.

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Since then, Psychic Sally, who was unavailable for interview, has established herself as the most popular medium in Britain, playing to capacity audiences at venues across the country. Earlier this month I saw the former dental nurse perform at Brighton’s Grand Theatre. A peaceful demonstration outside the sold-out 950-seat venue, was led by two men carrying placards which read, “Equal Rights For Gay Ghosts.”

This slogan referred to a contretemps with a critic called Mark Tilbrook, who had been handing out leaflets before a performance by Morgan in London this April. Tilbrook only recently released video footage of the encounter, in which Morgan’s husband John, a former greengrocer whose ample physique means that he strikes as imposing a figure on the terrestrial plane as his wife does in the ether, approached Tilbrook. Standing shoulder to shoulder with his son-in-law, Daren Wiltshear, he asked the sceptic: “Are you on drugs? Or has one of your boyfriends shagged you too much? . . . I’m gonna knock you out sooner or later. So fuck off before I do you.”

Morgan is, according to his wife’s 2008 book, My Psychic Life, “the reason the sun rises.” In a statement released shortly after this grotesque footage appeared on YouTube, and just before the Brighton show, Sally Morgan asserted that she was, “utterly ashamed and devastated at the behaviour of my husband John and my son-in-law, and neither will have anything to do with my work . . . right now I have no idea what is going to happen to my marriage."

Meeting Psychic Sally

My own encounter with Morgan, now 63, was less confrontational and yet equally disturbing. In those days the medium, who now occupies a large property outside London, was living in New Malden. Walking up the path to the suburban house, where there were no visible lights, no open windows and no signs of recent occupation, I recalled what Sergeant Bilko says to Rupert Ritzik, in an episode of The Phil Silvers Show, as they approach the apartment of a psychic who, they hope, might enable them to make their fortunes at roulette. “It’s very quiet,” Silvers says. “The blinds are all closed. Nothing is stirring. She must be in.”

The reading that Morgan gave me, though, was far from comic, even if, in the long-standing debate over mediumship, she hardly represents an obvious choice as a witness for the defence.

In one to one readings, Morgan works – or did at that time – from photographs. I’d taken a few along, including one of my father, who died while I was a ­student. A few weeks earlier, in a conversation with my brother, I had raised the possibility that my dad might have been claustrophobic: he was clearly uneasy in crowds, for instance, at packed football stadiums.

Morgan picked up a photo of my parents taken many years ago. “Your father is showing me something in his left hand,” she says, “A chain. Could be a key-ring.” As I recall thinking at the time, this sort of stuff is the classic material of so-called cold-reading, whereby generalities are dispensed until the sitter blurts out precise information. Then: “Your dad would like you to know that he was claustrophobic but he didn’t realise that at the time. They weren’t sure what that condition was called.”

The evening before I met the ­psychic, who ran a small laundry before experiencing an epiphany in her local Wimpy Bar, I had been whining to friends about how ill-at-ease I felt in the flat landscape of the southeast, having grown up within striking distance of the Peak District. Pretentious and absurd as this may sound, I had been advancing the theory that I somehow found it easier to write fiction in a place with a view of mountains. Morgan took a sheet of paper and drew four or five undulating lines on it.

Morgan describes having a psychic experience when she was nine months old, and claims to have seen her first ghost aged four. As an adult, she turned her talent into a career as a professional medium.CORBIS

“You would be very, very happy living in an area which is hilly,” she said. “Or mountainous. Mountains would inspire you. Your work would flow more easily if you had a vista. This knowledge calls to you. And until you relent and accept that . . . well, if you do, that will change your life for ever.”

Years earlier I’d had a ­conversation with the late Lord Soper, the prominent Methodist minister. He described mediumship as “spiritual fascism. ­People are looking for answers outside their known world,” he’d said, “When what they should be doing is taking responsibility for their own life.”

“You know,” Morgan said, after I mentioned this, “it’s not easy, living with this ability. I am not a bad person. I am not mad. I am not unhinged. I happen to do an extraordinary job as well as I can.”

It was when I handed her a photograph of an ex-girlfriend – again without mentioning whether this person was alive, dead, or a relative – that I felt Morgan really caught fire.

“There is a mental side to this girl.”

“I’ll say.”

“Some people might describe her as a nut. There is a very strong sadness in her, and a sense of having been abandoned. Some people destroy relationships before they have run their course because they think they are going to end anyway. She has that feeling.” Then, informing me that she has my late father at her side, she picks up the family picture again.

“Who is Joan?”

“My mother.”

“And Michael John?”

“My brother.”

“Is your mother in spirit?”

“No, she’s in Manchester.”

“Well,” Morgan says, “your mother’s mother lost a small child.”

“Not so far as I know.”

“You’d have to ask her about that.”

And when I did, as I later tell Wiseman, my mother told me that she had had an older brother who died very shortly after being born.

The Art of Cold-Reading

As I explain to psychic sceptic Professor Wiseman, I had approached Morgan as a sworn unbeliever.

Before her stage shows, two glass orbs are left on display outside the auditorium. Audience members are invited to fill the globes with messages to, and photo­graphs of, loved ones. These vessels appear on stage with her. Does Morgan read them beforehand? She says not, and we trust her. Yet there is famous footage of “Psychic Sally” giving readings on television shows that gave many viewers the definite sense that the spirit of Google was present.

But the internet, both Wiseman and I agreed, was unlikely to have explained any of the observations she made to me. The names she gave were just about retrievable from an obscure site if you knew what they were in advance and had several hours to spare, but even Wiseman said his sense was that Morgan had not accessed the information in that way. She had certainly mentioned details that meant nothing to me, but not with the scattergun approach that is the hallmark of the true fraud.

Professor Richard Wiseman.REX

Before I met Morgan, I had interviewed other mediums, such as the thirsty Liverpudlian motorist Derek Acorah, as a result of which I’d had quite a bit of coaching in avoiding being “cold-read” either by word or by body language.

For a definitive lesson in the ­techniques of cold-reading, watch the first part of the 2010 Channel Four series Derren Brown Investigates entitled, “Talking to the Dead." The episode, posted on Youtube, is an excruciating demolition of the self-professed medium Joe Power.

In the course of the broadcast, Brown’s expert adviser, the same Professor Wiseman, examines in detail the skills involved in cold-reading. The medium begins by persuading the sitter that a dead relative is present: an effect commonly achieved with a statement such as “I have a John . . . Johnny . . . Jack, Jake . . . Jackie, ­Jacqueline . . . could be somebody living in a town that begins with a J.”

At this point many sitters relate detailed information that the psychic relays back to them later in the sitting. Blatant “misses,” such as meaningless names or dates, become the client’s fault. (“Think about it later. It will come to you.”)

Flattery is a big part of the process. A medium will never say: “I have your father here. He’s telling me that you are a feckless little creep with abject personal hygiene. He is saying that he remembers you mainly as having been ‘a waste of food.’ He says he could continue, but since he knows you’ll be dead in six days he’ll carry on this discussion once you join him in hell.”

“The main question about your reading with Sally Morgan,” Wiseman told me when we met again, with a transcript of the session, “relates to how best you can test mediums.”

In controlled experiments, he says, conducted with several sitters facing away from the psychic, subjects have proved to be poor at identifying their own reading. “If you’d had to pick your reading out of six others,” he asks, “would you have been able to?”

“Definitely. Even without the small matter of my brother’s full name.”

“That is interesting,” Wiseman says. “We do, undeniably, have an issue with that. Which is why it would be so interesting if Sally Morgan would agree to be blind tested. As far as I know, she has always refused.”

Bad psychics cheat in two ways: so-called ‘hot reading’ (gathering information on the sitter via friends or, these days, via the internet) and the skill of ‘cold reading’ outlined above.

It is astounding what performers can get away with. Recently I visited a long-established spiritualist church, whose name, out of respect for the other members of the congregation, I will omit. I sat through a 90-minute performance by a psychic, who told me at one point that I had “a close link to the letter P." I was impressed, naturally: but what exact connections from my personal life had he channelled from the spirit world? Peroni? Paula? Prawn dhansak? Pernod? Pamela? Preston North End? Then he entered into the following exchange with a man of about 70, named Harold.

Medium: “I have your mother here.”

Harold: “Good. Thank you.”

Medium: “Yes. She is cooking. A big stew.”

Harold: “My mother never cooked.”

Medium: “It is not your mother. It is your grandmother. She cooked big casseroles. There is a dog here. It’s white.”

Harold: “Black.”

Medium: “And the dog’s name is . . . Stu.”

Harold: “Flossie.”

Medium: “Ah. No. The dog is begging for the stew. That’s why I got the name Stu.”

A Dog Named Stu

And that, I suggest to Sue Farrow, editor and managing director of the journal Psychic News, shows just how very bad things can get. Farrow offers something of a contrast with some who work in this field. She is a highly intelligent, articulate woman, who spent 25 years as a ­professional musician before taking up her current post in 2007. The “dog called Stu” inspires a snort of derision.

How on earth did a former conductor from the English National Ballet come to be involved in this field? “My motivation derived from a sense that most people are interested in whether there is life after death,” she replies. “I feel it is a subject of such importance that it deserves all the scrutiny you can give it. Intellectual curiosity drew me to it.”

“So what do you make of Flossie ­begging for the stew?”

“Of the hundreds of mediums operating in this country,” she replies, “there are only three that I would risk recommending to a bereaved person.”

To set yourself up as a medium, there is no requirement equivalent of a driving instructor’s licence or a football coach’s training badge. Anybody can do it.

I travelled to the Arthur Conan Doyle Centre in Edinburgh. Doyle, famously, was a passionate believer in spiritualism and was ridiculed by many, including the magician Houdini, Doyle’s one-time friend, who mutated into his Moriarty.

I am welcomed in to a room where there are 13 other trainee mediums, nine of them women (all of whose names have been changed). The session, hosted by a woman called Yvonne, begins with a 15-minute meditation after which, somewhat to my horror, I realise that I, like others in the room, am required to perform a reading myself.

Having been on the receiving end of a lot of cold readings, I find I’m actually quite good at it. My sitter, who I will call Ellen, is an older woman who, without the benefit of spiritual assistance, I sense might have been the victim of physical challenges, possibly involving a male partner, and strong drink.

“I feel that you have had to be the rock, while bad things have been going on around you,” I venture, with my first flattering generalisation.

“Yes.”

“Bad things done by a man?”

“Sometimes.”

“I see you in a bar.”

“I don’t like alcohol,” Ellen says. But her first husband, it transpires, drank heavily and was physically violent.

“You have some connection to Ireland.” [Who doesn’t?]

“Yes.”

I get away with it purely thanks to the truth that, as Wiseman testifies, faced with a flagrant charlatan such as myself, it’s the subject, not the “medium”, that does the work.

But the Edinburgh class is interesting to observe and not without its merits. These are vulnerable people who visibly draw comfort from this meeting. Their hospitality to outsiders is generous and touching. With the possible exception of a trainee I’ll call Laura, a woman whose appearance (not unlike a younger Chrissie Hynde) and forthright attitude make me wonder if this amiable circle has inadvertently admitted another journalist.

“Just what is the point of connecting with spirits?” she asks Yvonne. “They connect to us, then we die. Then we talk to the ones who are left. Why?” Yvonne replies that “Spirits, like people, evolve. But, of course, if someone was a miserable person on earth, they’re going to be exactly the same on the other side.”

At this point I notice Sheila, a woman on my immediate left, beginning to look emotional. “My father,” she says, “had Parkinson’s disease for the last 12 years of his life. He was in a terrible state. Are you saying that he’s still like that now?”

“No,” Yvonne says. “Because he is in spirit. Earthly pain is left behind.”

The Psychic Barber

When I asked people – both sceptics and enthusiasts interested in this field – about “good” mediums, the same few names recurred. I chose one, Gordon Smith, the so-called Psychic Barber.

Smith, 52, is an improbable medium. An unpretentious Glaswegian who, as his soubriquet would suggest, began life as a hairdresser, has proved (contrary to the belief apparently harboured by Sting) that it is possible to establish an international reputation without changing your name from Gordon. Smith gives public shows, but does not charge for individual readings. His house – comfortable but not ostentatious – is on the coast near Helensburgh, 30 miles north-west of Glasgow.

Gordon's 'gift' was reawakened when the ghost of his friend's brother, who died in a fire, appeared before him one night.REX

“I think there is only a value to mediumship,” Smith says, “if it can help people heal. If somebody dies horrendously, you cannot undo that. Good mediums can help people to move on, by giving them a vision of those individuals in spirit.”

“When you give somebody a reading,” I ask Smith, who has said he will only do so for me if something, in his words, comes through, “what is going on? What are the mechanics?”

“Something happens between me and that person,” he says. “There is a vibration that means there is somebody here. As soon as you walked in the room,” he adds, “I saw a very bright light behind you. I have only had it once or twice in my life before. To me it felt good. But I can’t really say what it means. It was something, but not to do with my mediumship. I can’t say what.”

“When mediums say, ‘I have your grandfather here’ and so on. Are you really communicating through spirits?”

“Yes. Although I think everything we do is connected to telepathy. As a medium, if you don’t get a message from spirit then you read the person. I would say that all mediums are psychic. But not all psychics are mediums.”

A pause.

“Alright,” Smith says, “let’s take your mother. She is recently dead [not information I have volunteered] but her spirit is very close. As I speak to you, I get this lady and what I felt was a deep tiredness.” Smith switches to the first person, though does not alter his voice.

“‘My body just gave up. It almost became like a prison to me. This is what I feel.’ But she knew she was loved, and that made it easier for her to die. And now she is at peace.”

Smith embarks on what I would say was an accurate character sketch of my mother, which differs from an orthodox medium’s reading in that it is not uniquely bland.

“Her temperament was not always the best. She hated how she was at the end. She had such sadness in her own life. And a lot of that sadness, she didn’t understand. And now she does. And she doesn’t want there to be any anger or guilt.” He then gives the first name of one of her very few close surviving ­relatives.

Smith fell into mediumship, as many seem to, after attending a spiritualist church. He was 24. “I’d never been to that sort of a place. The medium in the church told the person I was with: that guy sat next to you; he’s a medium too. Has he not told you?”

I tell Smith that I am concerned by psychics who are ­trousering vast sums from never-ending tours. Having dismissed one prominent psychic as “cheesy” and “peddling nonsense,” Smith adds: “I don’t see why this shouldn’t be a living. It just was never in me to take money from the bereaved. I’d always worked. Then I got a publishing deal; I did talks. It just ­escalated.”

Some people might argue that were there any real power in spiritualism, Smith should be living on Mulholland Drive in a mansion with a swimming pool in the shape of a racehorse. “You cannot predict the future,” he says. “Neither can you cold-read the character or name of somebody who has died. No matter how hard you stare at the sitter. When that happens, it’s coming from somewhere else . . . I believe there is a part of you that, after death, somehow endures. I have never thought of the spirit world as heaven as such.”

Wasn’t it Jonathan Miller, I ask Smith, who said he was surprised when he looked at the complexities of the human eye that people could become obsessed with what he called “so suburban a miracle as telepathy." Does being a medium help the medium?

“It does, yes. Hugely. Because I don’t have a fear of dying, I don’t have a fear of living. I believe that is very important. So many people are hindered in their lives by a fear of their own death, or the death of their kids. And that’s why that sense of a spiritual connection is so very significant and rather beautiful. And you know why that’s important? Because if you are not afraid to die,” Smith says, “you are not afraid to live.”

Robert Chalmers's ebook, Talking With the Dead: Psychic Journeys to the Other Side, is available now through Newsweek Insights.