#hopefully i will come out of this week alive. ciao

[shokupanda]

im just gonna recap my upcoming hell week: it is currently sunday, ten pm. i need to finish writing a paper and print it 7am stat because thats when most printshops open and i have to turn it in before 9am, because at that time i have a history final (that i as of this point is time have not studied for at all).

after that i need to immediately go home and make a powerpoint presentation for tuesday, and also speedrun another mutiple page a3 project of designing a stand and making like detailed floorplans and mockups (with watercolor paint), because i need to get that binded tuesday, because i need go turn it in wednesday.

for tuesday itself, on campus i have to speedrun painting two large a3 illustrations for a different final, and also speedrun the aforementioned project-that-needs-to-be-binded.

come wednesday, ill hopefully be able to turn that project in, but then i have a civics final exam that morning.

thursday is an off day (hopefully). but i need to tweak the design of a mostly done group presentation for friday.

friday ill need to present said presentation.

i think after that thats it for the semester and i can finally have respite with a few months break oh god finally. after mentally going through what i have to do though im really not looking forward to this week. graphic design is my prisonnnnn AAAAAAAAAA

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: April

April Ch. 4: Are you alive?

April prompt: Seemingly unrequited love

Guest starring, Alfie Jones

AN: Fast-forward two months, and Billy’s still worrying about that American bloke he bundled off back to Brooklyn. Btw, he is also a man whore. No tea no shade, he just loves women (a lot and frequently). This chapter is part of a massive rewrite of Simon x Billy in honor of the Year of the OTP event on ao3. TW: This chapter includes trans themes, which I have hopefully treated with genuine feeling and respect. If you do feel triggered and there is something I can do to be better, please let me know. Gratitude and love.

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-----/Billy/-----

I’ve barely made it two months. 

Billy: Are you alive?

Simon: Who is this?

Billy: You know who this is - are you alive?

Simon: Yes

-----/-/-----

Here I am just leavin to fetch Anna Lucia and my text notification sounds out.  Last time I saw this name on my screen, reckon it’d be about a month past.

First dates. That’s a great feelin, isn’t it? You know you’re gonna kiss, but you don’t know when. Your heart’s poundin. And then the cell buzzes. Hope she’s not begging off. Took her ages to even sustain eye contact with me. To be honest, you know you’re bein flirted with when I come at yeh. Not that I’ve been pesterin her. Her eyes just couldn’t bear lookin straight into the sun. Ah, I’m only jokin. 

Right, give m’self one last lookover. “Teeth, check. Hair, check. Cock in, check. Smell good, check. Phone, check. Text check…

Simon: Are you alive?

Billy: What’s up, man? All right? You well?

Time, check. Tick tock tick tock. Come on, man, I can’t be sat here waitin on yeh to decide whether yer textin back. Anna Lucia’s-

Simon: There was an earthquake in Northern Italy

Billy: Yes, that is correct - there was an earthquake in Northern Italy

Simon: You ok?

Billy: Yeah man, did you worry? That’s so sweet

Simon: Shut up

Billy: Then you wouldn’t know whether I survived the earthquake in Northern Italy

Billy: Don’t be losin sleep on my account, man - I’m well to the south

Billy: Big landmass, we’re not fallin into the sea

Billy: That sorta thing only happens in America

I pause, thinkin that he might take the bait, but it’s been a minute without a response and I’ve got a stunner waitin on me. 

Condoms? Definitely. Check.

-----/Simon/-----

Billy: Simon

Simon: What

Billy: …

The little typing-in-progress dots start and stop, and start and stop again.

Billy: Nevermind.

Nevermind. Nevermind? Nevermind?! What the fuck?! You can’t just - grrrrrr. Sometimes I hate that guy. 

Shit. What if something’s wrong. 

What if he’s lost fingers and can’t thumb in a text. Besides “Simon” and “nevermind.” Yeah, no, that’s ludicrous, Lewis. Obviously. Certo.

Two hours later, and I’m still distracted. ‘Nevermind?’ Rude.

Annoying. 

Fucking obnoxious, is what it is. 

I do not need this kind of thing in my life. And I don’t even know the guy. So I delete him from my contacts. 

I already kinda regret it.

Fuck.

——-/-/——-

So yeah. Fuck. I still regret it. 

For a whole week. Shit. 

Did I put it under Terrazze……. Or di Limoni?  Ah, ok. The phone ringing in Italian sounds weird and wrong. Sorta like me in Italian.

“Ciao, Terrazze di Limoni, parlando Rosalina. Come posso aitutarti?”

“Um, si, I’m good, thank you…um, I don’t parlo Italiano.”

“Si, signore. How can I help you?”

“Thanks. I’m looking for Billy Delaney. Or, actually, I just need his phone number. I lost it.” 

Nothing. 

“Billy from the restaurant?” I clarify.

Again, nothing. “Yes?” I ask.

“Yes? Is this a question? I do not understand you, Signore Laywees.”

Ok, redirect. “Do you know his cell phone number? Please?”

“I can not, no.”

“Is there someone who does know his number? Maybe the computer?”

“No. Non signore. I am not permiso. Emmm, how you say, permit to give to you the informazione that is personal to him.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I can understand that. Makes sense. But since I know him?” Please please please.

She is silent, again. Until, “Is this a question? I still do not understand you, Signore Laywees.”

“I’d really like to talk to him. Via text, I mean. Send a text - to him.”

“Sí, signore.”

“Yes? You’ll give it to me?”

“No.” She makes it sound so final and permanent.

“Do you remember that he and I are friends? I stayed in the suite up on the top floor?”

“Si. You are the American on the roof.”

“I what? No, nevermind. He is still at the hotel, though, right?” Maybe I can just ask to speak to the mana-

“No.”

“Wait, what?”

“No. He is no longer at the hotel,” she informs me.

“But he’s still in Sorrento, right?”

“No.” It sounds so final and permanent.

Panic. “But-“

“He is in London,” she adds.

“Wait, what?”

“He is in London.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say quietly to myself.

“Certo.” Obviously? She thinks I’m obvious.

So now it’s even more important that she give me his number. Cuz if I ever need to get in touch with him, they wouldn’t give it to me. Not a chance.

“No.”

Goddammit, Lewis. “Did I say that out loud?”

“It was quiet, Signore.”

“Pardon?”

“Si. I perdonna you.”

Help? Confused. “Please, I need to talk- to text him. Even more now that he isn’t in Italy anymore. If you don’t share his number,” I say, kinda more to myself than to her, “then that’s it.”

“What is it?”

“I mean-” Shit, I suppose that really is it, then. I won’t get to tell him I’m over Voldemort and her nighty. I was kinda looking forward to that. “I guess it’s just that that will be it. In terms of knowing him. Friends. So, yeah. I guess I just won’t know him anymore.” This is the single most embarrassing experience I have ever had. Since my trip to Italy.

“Ah, si. Ssssssi.” She stretches out the last word, so it sounds like she’s mulling something over.

“Signore Laywees,” she says in a muffled whisper. “His numero is-“

——-/-/——-

Simon: Billy

That Irishman: 

——-/-/——-

Rude! 

——-/-/——-

Three days later it’s even ruder. More rude. (I’m allowed to think with bad grammar.)

I shouldn’t have bothered getting the number. That’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back. I mean, how many more days is he… You know what? Fuck it. I don’t even care.

This is me not caring.

At all.

—--/Billy/—--

Fucksake, Simon. I was with a girl. Lucrezia with the long legs, and what, you want me to pull out to answer your text? 

Y’ know what - I’m done with this. He’s alive. That’s fine. All I needed to know.

Deleted.

—--/Simon/—--

Simon: Where are you?

That Irishman: New phone, who dis?

I - wow. That kind of - stung.

Stings. 

—--/-/—--

It’s been a week and it’s still stinging.

Simon: Are you alive?

I couldn’t go a week without texting. What the fuck is wrong with me. 

That Irishman: New phone, who dis?

Ow. 

He ghosted me. Actually, like, in reality, intentionally ghosted me.

Simon: You know who this is.

You know what? I’m done.

I do not need this in my life right now. My book placing Simon out front as main character is due in two months, but Me Simon, the author? I’m still stuck. I still suck. I’ve scrapped everything I’ve written about him.

So of course I start writing an entirely different story. Which then turns into an idea for a Warlock spinoff series for my most flamboyant and interesting character. 

It’s a love story between boys. It’s been building over the course of all three books, and I just can’t shove it out of my head. And the fans want that just as much as they want a Simon book. Easiest way to avoid doing something you need to do? Do something else you need to do. 

Shit. I need to do some research.

That Irishman: Why?

Huh. Interesting point. I-

Simon: I don’t know

—--/Billy/—--

I think we’ve gotten past our - whatever it was a few weeks ago. That was weird. Yeah, weird. We were up each other’s arses about - what? Nothing at all. Immature and grating, and yet, we’re still texting. A little more often now. But usually it’s of the “are you alive?” variety, with single word, single syllable answers from Simon. “Are you over her?” “Yes,” that sort of thing. I can’t tell whether he’s pissed, or just wants to know I’m alive. I thought I was supposed to be knowing that he was alive. 

Billy: Are you alive?

Grumpy: I guess

Billy: Two words! We’re making progress

Grumpy: Shut up

I laugh.

Billy: I’m not talking, I’m texting. If you want me to stfu, just put the phone down

Billy: Try it - now

Billy: See? Silence. Wasn’t that nice?

Grumpy: You really can’t can you

Billy: Can’t what

Grumpy: Shut up

Billy: Jaysus, Simon. Put the phone back down. I don’t need to be hearing you being mean

Grumpy: Funny

Billy: You know man, you’re like the Hemingway of texting

Grumpy: So literary

Well, he’s not biting. Much. Why do I bother? Have a better conversation with the cat. 

Of course my friend Rachel’s a cat person. I like that about her. And her cat.

So I feed the cat. And Rachel, before she’s back to her pub downstairs. I potter about the kitchen, tidying up while I wait to hear back from my best mate, Alfie.

I feel my cell buzz in my back pocket, just as I’m puttin the several thank-you meals I’ve made Rachel into the fridge.

Alfie: We still on mate?

Billy: Do you really have to ask?

Alfie: Yes! 

Alfie: I mean no

Alfie: I mean I know - just looking forward to seeing you mate

Alfie: Worried you wouldn’t want to see everyone - you know what I’m trying to say

Billy: I think what you’re trying to say is you’re leaving the house now

—--/-/—--

Is this… I think this is shot #3. She gave us two, and then… so that’s 4? I think. 

Oooh, my arse is vibrating. But not for the fun reason. 

“Whoa-what Alfie?!” has just grabbed me - bodily - and pulled me up against him. 

“Alfie, I love you, mate. You’re a mostly good friend and I guess you’re kinda cute, but-”

He flips us around, drops his arse onto a bar stool, and makes himself very small.

“Tired, mate?” I’m frowning down at him when Rachel sets up another pair of shots.

“For the birthday boy. Where’d he get off to?” she asks, pretendin to survey the room.

I snort. “Here’s yer man. This tiny human here in front of me who appears to find my Vegas belt buckle fascinating. Alfie, mate, what’re yeh-”

“I’m hiding,” he hisses.

“But why?”  

And of course it’s just as I’m throwin back shot #5 (4?)  when the great eejit grabs me about the waist, yanks me to him, and buries his face in my navel. 

So now I’m chokin on vodka and he’s hissing at me to shut up and stand still. “The fuck? What’re you doin?! Stop it,” I wheeze.

“Shhh!”

Still tryin to see past the blindin fire in my sinuses. “Fucksake, Alfie! You know I just blew a shot of clear alcohol out my nose. And I know you do cos you’ve vodka snot in your hair, and runnin down the side of yer face, mate. What the fuck?”

“I don’t care, shhhh!”

So I stand very still and speak very quietly. “Alfie, mate. Why don’t you care that you’ve vodka snot – my snot – runnin down yer face?”

That’s when he grabs both my arms and slaps them on the bartop, caging himself in. 

This once again catches Rachel’s eye at the other end of the bar. As it should do. And she shoots me a quick look. I answer with a shrug. 

“Do I even want to know?” she asks, headin back our way.

“Would both of you shut up? Hide me!”

Rachel rolls her eyes and leaves me with the child in my arms. 

“I’d say I’m flattered, mate,” I whisper. “But you’re freakin me out now. I’m assumin it’s a girl, yeah? Which one is she?” 

I’m looking into the bar mirror and spot a face from a lifetime ago. 

“Alfie, is that-”

“It’s that fit Thai bird from Bangkok.”

“Alfie, is that Ken?” 

Guest starring, Ken

Alfie buries his face in my navel again.

“Yes?” he says in a guilty squeak. 

“Why is she here?” I ask very slowly, as if I’m speakin to someone not so bright. Because I am speakin to someone not so bright. 

“Erm, well… Because I live here? Probably?”

I need another pint. And vodka’s put me off, as that’s a pain that’s gonna linger in my nasal passages. I signal the lovely Rachel, who nods as she begins to pull me a pint.

“Alfie. Why are yeh hidin? From Ken. Who is now where yeh live. And not in Bangkok.”

“I sort of…”

I give him the ol’ eyebrow encouragement. 

“I’ve kind of been sending her sexy pokes…erm, sexy poking with her.”

“For a year?! Wait, no. How long has it been since Thailand? Have you been sexy poking her all this time?”

“Shhhh!” And back to my navel he goes. “I didn’t invite her! She’s just here! Over there,” he says with a muffled rumble into my belly. 

“I have a feelin that’s just the beginning of a very long, very embarrassing story. Don’t let me stop yeh. But yer steamin up my stomach and my vodka snot has now migrated back to me. On my shirt. And you know how I feel about laundry.”

Sighing and shaking my head. “Mate, stop it. Yer actin like a baby. Face yer fears or face responsibility or buy her a drink. Those are yer options.” 

“How about we buy me a drink instead?” He looks up hopefully, his hands loosening the vice grip he’s got on me.

“And by we, you mean me,” I state the obvious.

“It is my birthday.”

“And we have a history of phenomenally fucked up birthdays here. Are you plannin to make a regular habit of it?”

Rachel places the perfect pint in front of me. I sigh. “Sure’n I suppose you’ll be wantin my pint then.”

He grins sweetly up at me. “Birthday?”

“Thank yeh, Rachel, love. That’ll be one more. But I’ll be takin this one.” 

Alfie whines unintelligibly.

“Alfie!” rings out the voice of a high tenor.  

I move aside like the terrible friend that I am.

“Judas!” Alfie cries.

“Ken!” I cry. 

“Billy. I like seeing you again. I don’t like seeing this one with his face in another man’s chest!”

“Another man’s-”

“Pickles!” Alfie cries.

Guest starring, Pickles

“Lord Jaysus, Pickles!” I cry. I’m over the moon to see our old mate Cheese & Pickles. Another one Alfie made a hash of a start with, leadin him on. But at least in that case, it had been an honest mistake with a cheese and pickle baguette, and quickly sorted. And we made a solid mate out of the mess. I’d hoped I’d get to see him again this year. 

Ken, on the other hand, I never had much interaction with her. Nice girl if memory serves, but she is a bit of a wild card. Certo.

I round on Alfie. “Alfie, why is Ken here? How long has this been going on?”

“Two years!” Ken shouts.

Oh Alfie, you feckin brainless eejit, look at the state of yeh. 

“He said he wanted me. Me. He never said anything about you.”

I watch as Pickles’ jaw drops open at the implication, and his eyes slide from side to side like it’s Wimbledon. 

“I say it again, Billy. He told me he wants me. So I came.” Ken is trying to keep a lid on her emotions, but they’re right there at the surface ridin her.

“Erm,” Alfie begins, looking like things are starting to fall into place in that thick skull of his. 

“What was that? Squeak up,” I press. “Today’d be grand.” 

“Erm, well,” Alfie begins again. “I-” And his face turns cherry red starting from his collar, ending at the very tips of his little mouse ears. “I may have said-”

“I want you so much. You told me over and over. I want you. I want you so much. Come with me. So I came.”

Pickles zips his mouth shut.

Simon would have relished this moment.

“I am beautiful. You told me! How could you be with him? He is not beautiful.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Pickles mutters again. 

“Thanks, mate,” I say. No harm in hearin it, if I’m honest.

“And just where were you when you were telling Ken how much you wanted her? How beautiful she is?” Spit it out, man.

“Erm…” says Alfie, eloquent as ever.

“He was on the computer. Where else would he be? He was not in bed with you!” Ken turns on Alfie. “Were you?”

“Erm…” repeats Alfie. 

“Have you no sense, you great eejit? You’re makin it worse.” All skull, no brain. Don’t know why I bother.

We need to get her calm, get her some privacy in a nice, cozy snug in the corner, sit down and sort this out. This is too personal for the floor of a pub. Not fair to Ken. 

Guest starring, a snug

Looking disgusted with Alfie, Pickles steps in and picks up Ken’s hand. “You deserve better,” he says softly but with honest conviction. Good man. 

Ken’s eyes are welling. “Yes. I do.”

“Oi!” Alfie exclaims in indignation.

I cut him off with an elbow to the ribs and a glare. “Not helping!” I grit out. 

“Oh. Oh!” Alfie takes in a deep breath and gives her a sincere apology. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, and once again buries his face in my navel. 

“Alfie!” Ken looks like she’s about to cry quite a lot of tears. “You said-”

And right before my eyes, Pickles’ face goes all soft. I watch it happen right in front of me. That moment you see in films when the boy looks at a duckling like he’s never seen one before, and suddenly she’s the loveliest water fowl he’s ever met. “Ken, is it?” he says softly. “Come sit down. I’ll get you something to drink, and we can figure it out.”

I incline my head toward the snug at the back part of the room. I can see it’s empty.

Ken raises her head high, and pins Alfie with a deadly glare. “You are not worth my tears. Or my frequent flying kilometers.”

Alfie looks ashamed, as he should do, and wisely keeps his fat trap shut. Wise - for Alfie, that is. Pickles leads Ken across the floor as far from Alfie and me as he can be. “Do you have luggage?” I hear him ask as they walk away. Good man. Damn good man.

“You owe Pickles, mate.”

“All my birthday beer is his.”

“That’s right,” I agree. 

“That’s right,” Alfie whispers as he downs his two forgotten shots. “That’s right.”

“Alfie. What’s really goin on here, mate?” I ask him. “You realize you’ll be needin to have an honest talk with Ken, don’t yeh? Pickles may have put the situation on pause for the moment. But she does deserve better, man.”

He looks a bit lost.

“What were yeh thinkin?”

He starts to fidget. “Look, man.” I reassure him. “I’m here for yeh, thick, thin, wide, narrow, tall, short. Female. Male?”

“Or maybe somewhere undefined in-between?” he asks.

“Alfie. I love yeh, mate.” I’m bendin down gettin in his face, bein that the man is avoidin eye contact with his head down. “Nothin else matters, yeh see that, don’t yeh?”

Alfie peeks up and looks at me, barely. He’s unsure and deeply unsettled. Ken, in person, has him rattled — profoundly rattled. And can I blame him? Somethin private – and very likely somethin he thought was just for fun with no consequences – just became public and hit home in a very, very she’s at my home kind of way. So much for no consequences.

“Life is real, Alfie. Life happens. Life has consequences. Life is full of good people, in with the bad. Ken’s one of the good ones, mate. If yeh don’t want anything to do with her-”

“I didn’t say that!” busts out of his mouth, before he can think on it. Which, if I’m honest, describes everything that comes out of Alfie’s mouth. He squeezes his lips together, willing them not to speak.

I let it float for a minute, not wanting to give him any outs, but also not wanting to make him afraid to speak. But I break. “No judgement, mate. Do you want Ken?”

He finally lifts his head, and gives me frightened eyes I’ve never seen him wear. “I don’t know?”

“No reason to panic like this. No need to have it all worked out of a sudden, all at once. But you do need to be honest with her. And you need to walk over to that snug with me, sit yerself down across from Ken, and talk to her. Tonight. Let her know how yer feelin, that you might be conflicted, questioning. She’s got to know what that feels like, mate. Hasn’t she?”

He gives me a one-shoulder shrug, lettin me know he’s heard me.

“Go take a piss, do a shot, smoke somethin, whatever. But you’ve got 5 minutes before you have to act like a grown man. I’ll make your excuses til then. And I’m lettin her know you’ll be joinin us in that snug. No runnin from this, mate. She knows where yeh live. Because I’ll give her the street number and drive her there m’self if ye run.”

—--/-/—--

When I finally arrive back up at Rachel’s flat, I’m drunk enough to bump into every wall between the entry and the stairs, which I manage to fall up, and then “Ow!” as I knock my hip against the railing at the top.

I’m tripping as I try to walk out of my jeans and open the bedroom door at the same time. Seems like something that should be possible, walking out of a pair of jeans. It isn’t.

As I fall on my arse with a loud thud and grunt, my guest for the evenin begins laughin at me. I can’t really blame her. I’m drunk. She’s drunk. Neither one of us remembers each others’ names. Doesn’t matter. Except-

Guest starring, Guest

“Oh, Saints preserve us! Jaysus no!”

“What are you on about?” Somethin-somethin-somethin, “on me.”

I’ve no idea what she’s sayin, and couldna care, because I’ve fallen on my phone. “Mary and the sweet baby Jesus, oh thank you. Ohhhh thank you. Oh lord.”

I caress it lovingly – which is really what I should be doing with the bird crawling across the bed in a relatively alluring way. The screen lights up revealing a text notification, and I vaguely remember it buzzing in my pocket at the start of the night. I’d sort of forgotten it, what with Alfie’s nose in my navel. And my nose shortly due to be well below her navel.

Grumpy: Why

“What? Oh no, not you love. Don’t move a finger. I want yeh just like that.”

Billy: Why what?

He replies almost instantly.

Grumpy: Why are my texts like Hemingway

Billy: Brief.

I turn off my phone, and drop it on the crumpled and growing mass of clothing on the floor. After all, it’s important I focus all my attention on my guest’s needs. And I’ve a feelin she’ll have many.

—--/Simon/—--

Fuuuuuuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Again.

I have no idea how to write the Simon book and it’s seriously sucking my will to live. Which, you know, vampire Simon and all that.

OK, so here’s the thing. I can’t just suddenly claim I’m totally different from the character, when the fans know I’ve based him on me. And they know I’m a nerd. A huge nerd. I can’t turn him into some super, supernatural, sleek, and sexy vampire. Nope. He has to be confused half the time. And show periodic feats of great courage, followed by moping and pining and loyalty. The fans love it. They eat that shit up. On paper – not in my actual life. Me Simon, I mean. Other Simon gets to mope all he wants and they still think he’s worth reading about. Fuck if I know why.

I can’t turn him into an amalgam of like, hipster-bass-player-shoegazer-vampire. We’ve all already read the one about the rockstar vampire.

So what kind of person would Other Simon wish he could be?

Ugh, well, 15 year old Me Simon just wanted to be cool and get the girl. 15 year old Other Simon is… a vampire, and will get the girl. Maybe two. Eventually.

I think he needs confidence. Other Simon, I mean. That’s what being a vampire gives him. That and killer abs. (Vamp abs are killer. I crack myself up. This is me cracking up.)

I think that’s his real growth arc – the confidence, not the abs. Wayyy back at the beginning I started him from a place already lagging behind his peers, saving himself for his crush. So becoming a vampire boosts his confidence immeasurably. That’s why we can more easily believe it when he finally gets the girl. For like five minutes.

I dunno. Now maybe he’ll go be a rockstar at being a super-supernatural superhero, rather than an actual rockstar of music. Nobody cares that I play bass.

You, self in mirror. Nobody cares that you play the bass. Just let it go.

Ok fine, me. You win. As usual. Nobody wants to hear the stats on my vintage Marshall stacks. Or about my priceless Rickenbacker, played by Sir Paul himself. Oh my god, why? Whyyyyyy? This should be exciting to everyone, everywhere.

I wonder if Billy would say I’m whingeing. How do you even spell that. Winging? Winjing? Whinging?

Actually, wait. Billy’s a confident person. He’s gregarious. Everybody fuckin loves that guy. Sometimes I hate him, just to prove to the universe that it is possible. Sometimes he deserves it, too. Wanker. Twat. Neither of those sound good in American.

Maybe Ma’s right and I should get out more.

Nah.

What would I even do? I’m supposed to be writing. I’m supposed to be writing. Writing.

Writing.

Writing.

Writing.

I can’t believe I went to Italy and didn’t take one picture. Not one. I had a couple good conversations. All with an Irishman – no one Italian. That would be stupid, Simon. (Me Simon, not Other Simon.)

Fuuuuuck.

——-/-/——-

Simon: I was in the seat of the Roman Empire, on possibly the sexiest sea in the world, and I didn’t fucking notice

That Irishman: Yeah, I noticed

Simon: Where are you?

That Irishman: Sorrento, dinner rush, can’t talk

Simon: Pick me up tomorrow

That Irishman: Wait what?

That Irishman: ???

That Irishman: Simon

That Irishman: Simon!

[fotu22]

"TOUGH ACT TO FOLLOW" - A Review of Tough Act's White Hotel Showcase

Last weekend at White Hotel will be a tough act to follow! Manchester based arts collective “Tough Act” checked guests into the night with all sorts of fun, donk cheesy edits superfast and super hard. Tough Act remained effortless and cheeky whilst summoning ciaos. The collective went b2b at time and others solo for a while, all while warming the crowd aggressively, no holding back. When the floor is warmed up like this it calls the party starters to the front. Although you may question the time and choice of pace ,the ones who don’t need to loosen up are leading the troop. Transmitting that energy across the floor and truly setting the pace for the night to follow.

Almost immediately you are pulled into the fun by the others around celebrating who they are. I notice this is a different type of joy expressed. I haven’t mentioned it yet, but Tough Act are a queer collective and so attract queer crowd. People are celebrating having a space for them to feel safe. Releasing the week gone, finding themselves or simply just wanting to dance!

I can often tell a good crowd by how long I spend in other areas of the club chatting. I kept on getting caught in conversations with warm and beautiful people, of course, in the silly and unconventional clubland way!

LCY stepped up and immediately commanded attention, I observed strong influences of London/UK bass music. Steamrolling through genre boundaries, whilst remaining extremely high quality and refined.

LCY’s ability to maintain dark and industrial all while keeping the crowd enclosed with endless groove. Hard groove techno laced with trickles of amapiano took me on a trip across the globe, whilst my feet were stomping away in Salford. This attitude is synonymous with multi-cultural energy, often exuded by artists from highly diverse ethnocultural centers such as Bristol and London.

Often with DJ’s who have played the circuit for longer than I have been alive, it can go two ways. They seem to only ever get better or in some cases seem somewhat out of touch attempting to read a “younger” audience but completely miss the mark. Misreading their youth for lack of taste in turn, opting for “bait” or more palatable set. DJ Flight was the antithesis of this.          A true pioneer of the jungle/dnb scene, had me hanging on the end of every beat, filled with curiosity for what was to come.

There’s a noticeable difference between new generation jungle DJ’s and the OG’s. The OG’s are able to keep that soul and groove within the sets no matter how much the tempo increases. The music remained dreamy, but the breaks jerked my body into all sorts of movements, just how we like it! Flight closed with some more “soulful” dnb more commonly known as “liquid”, this brought the mood down nicely allowing the audience to reflect for a moment and catch their breath.

Bringing this journey to a close was Stolen Velour, by this point I was locked into a side quest so I shall link Stolen Velour’s music below. Let me know what you think!

Big thanks to Tough Act for a brilliant night. Their next party at the White Hotel is on July 15th , if its anything close to the last one you’re in for a treat. Hopefully see you there!

Lots of love

F.O.T.U

x

[reginarubie]

Besides Drogon, Smiler(Theon's stallion) is also called black beast by Asha. Smiler also had bad temper and fire in it's eyes. Theon drove on it during his conquest of WF. Then there is Stranger, Hound's warhorse who had mean temper like his master and can bite some one. Ary@ tried to stole it. Both Smiler and Stranger can be foreshadowing to Drogon who had mean temper and only their riders can control them. Smiler was burn alive by Ramsey and Hound left Stranger behind.

Ciao anon!,

first of all sorry for the delay in replying to this, but I've honestly had a busy couple of weeks and I've not been in the right head space to do much fandom-wise, but the hag is back in town and now I'm getting even with all the asks (and hopefully comments under my fics) that I've left unanswered these last weeks.

This post is subsequent of this ask and on how symbolically the colour red is associated (especially in regard to animals) with danger, death and anger; and this other one ask about how the Iron throne is described as a crunching black beast.

Honestly I've always associated animals and their masters (like we do for the Starks and their direwolves), thus to me if one animal was particularly difficult or anger-fuelled or dangerous it reflects on the master and the other way around (which is also why I am very concerned with Arya and her journey since Nymeria is terrorising the Riverlands killing innocents, killing humans and even children). So I've never actually thought that those animals may be narrative decoys for Drogon (the ultimate black beast with fire in its eyes) though it is a fascinating interpretation of the text.

Also, can I point out that all of these animals have ominous names?, I mean Theon' stallion is called Smiler of all things (which always vibed very bad with me, it just gave me the creeps and I always thought it reminded me of the show version of Ramsay smiling all creepily at Theon eating that sausage while he thinks it might be his own severed manhood — I know, very specific scene, yet I always thought that the name Smiler gave me the very same vibe) and I always felt like in hinted to Theon (who was described in the beginning as brass, rude and who never took things seriously) change of demeanour after what happens to him when Ramsay imprisons him; while the Mountain's warhorse is (completely not ominously, ah-ah) called Stranger which with the fact that the show has gone with the Robert Strong = Gregor Clegane equation (like the books hint at) is incredibly ironic and also a foreshadowing of the Mountain to become that zombie-like knight who needs no food and no water, does not need to use the privy and is essentially mute (especially if we think that in the book Gregor left Stranger behind; maybe the same way his body has somewhat endured even after his life is gone).

So, as I've told you I had never thought of how those animals could be decoys for Drogon though they could totally foreshadow the real black beast (monster) who will burn people alive (like Ramsay burned Smiler) and who will leave ashes (and the 7K, if it goes like in the books) behind himself after Daenerys dies, because I've always thought of KL like the funeral pyre of Daenerys (notion in which I have become even more confident after I've replied to this ask about smoke and death and it rising from Dragonstone as Daenerys sees it in distance coupled with her hearing the wolf's howl); also because Drogon left Daenerys behind when she is apprehended by the Dothraki after fleeing Meereen (and have bonded at that).

So...yeah, food for thought indeed, because these animals are all in fact known to share some traits with their masters (just as Drogon does with Daenerys) — the fact that they are dangerous, difficult and that only their master can control them (the way Daenerys, who has bonded with Drogon, can somewhat control him, thought to which degree to me is still a mystery but I suppose we shall see in the coming books).

Just an afterthought...Arya tried to steal Stranger which will never not be funny to me, since Arya is effectively training to serve the only God (Death — whose face in the faith of the Seven is the Stranger) and become a faceless (wo)man kind of like in the books ser Robert Strong (possibly Gregor Clegane) never shows his face as he always keeps it covered by his helmet; and, if she goes by show (which I hope it won't be the case, and that Martin will pull full circle her training by giving us a much better arc for her in Braavos than we got with the show which was very rushed in that aspect) she kind of steals the powers she should use to serve Death to do what she wants (get vengeance). Thought I still maintain that in the books she is learning the difference between justice and vengeance as because of vengeance she has been blinded and justice is supposed to be blind; anyway I digress.

also, probably completely irrelevant but I've actually realised that the Iron throne being a crunching black beast is also another narrative decoy for the real black beast; the Iron throne was created by Aegon the Conqueror with the swords of his enemies using to fuse them together his dragon's (also called the black beast and the Black Dread — Balerion who, would you look at that is used as reference when speaking about Drogon who is called Balerion-come-again) flaming breath. It was supposed to inspire awe and fear of the power of House Targaryen (power they exacted using the dragons btw) which... reminds you of anything?

It should, because the show basically resumed for us Daenerys T. mindset about the way to use her black beasts (monsters — she calls them so in her own mind) in s7e7 talking about the dragon pit and what it symbolises for the dragons and her family (and herself — she is nothing without the dragons):

This place was the beginning of the end for my family. A dragon is not a slave. They were terrifying. Extraordinary. They filled people with wonder and awe, and we locked them in here. They wasted away. They grew small. And we grew small as well. We weren't extraordinary without them. We were just like everyone else. — Daenerys T., Game of Thrones, season 7 episode 7

(Totally unrelated, but...Will she waste away and not be extraordinary anymore once she stops her conquering — which she won't but it's a rhetorical question so humour me — to actually rule — a duty she finds boring btw?)

As always, thank you for the ask and hope you enjoyed my reply! I wish you a very nice day (and sorry again for the delay)

Update

as anon kindly pointed out to me, I actually got confused between Sandor and Gregor and thus my theory does not stand, we further discussed what it might mean beyond being Drogon's decoys, for both Theon and Sandor in this ask x come have a look at the adjusted theory!

[diotm]

@shabcn​​ + Plotted Starter // Thinking Of Yesterday

There he was, body upright & poised in his red-velvet throne chair, right leg over his left as he held a telephone cupped in his left palm. “Zeppeli... Caesar.” He speaks, a mischievous sneer framed his features. “It seems luck is in my grasp, This time.” He confidently said, right hand comes up placing his index finger on his temple & thumb below his jaw lowering so his elbow rested comfortably on the arm chair.  Dio for years has been watching over the kin of Joestars & Zeppeli as they both were his enemies -- & revenge boils in his blood. Henchmen were at the will of Dio, Merely out of fear but many saw potential in his diabolical schemes & shared the same desires as he, but were just far to weak to achieve them. Henchmen were planted in Venice, England, & Japan & many more -- observing their movements & recoiling back to him if they held any important news worth sharing -- those that waste his time are disposed.  A few weeks ago, he had gotten word of a Zeppeli (who he thought had horrifically perished -- was this a Zeppeli’s blessing? or a curse? ) who had joined with his grandfather -- who Dio had planned on killing (again), But the last thing Dio needed was a life long foe to be on his trails, at least for now -- Dio needed to stay in the shadows.. how he hated it so. Until he can refine his powers & improve his strength, in all the categories. Moving forward, the only compelling Intel was that Caesar... wasn’t acting like himself, he has what? amnesia? How fun this will be. Dio thought he could have some fun, which he hasn’t had in decades -- & perhaps this young man can be a use to him?   He found out that Caesar was also working in carpentry  -- This was a perfect way to get a chance to met him. Dio had many estates & luckily he had one set up on the outskirts of Venice -- A house with a lot of acres with a seemingly normal looking homestead. On the other hand the decor was dated more in the Victorian styles, but touched by modernism. Color palette stayed in whites, gold, & reds with a splash of blacks & dark green here an there. Very sporadic set of widows, not desiring so much sunlight in his residence -- for health reasons (of course) A lot of work needed to be done, rather unnecessary work -- but he had to keep the fellow busy after all.  A minion of his sat patiently by Lord Dio’s side, doing whatever he demanded & whenever. Most of his minions that lived in his estate did most of Dio’s work ( food wise ) Kidnapping & holding them hostage until the man grew an appetite -- it was not a pretty sight & required daily cleanings. “ Lord Dio . . I have the number -- are you -- “ Shushed the minion was, not by a look, not by physical touch but just by mere silence. When Dio was ready to do something, he will initiate it.  “ Dial.” Is all he spoke, palm & curled fingers now pressing the Telephone against his cheek. The minion nodded, as he begun using the turn dial -- knowing he succeeded when he heard the tone of of it ringing (thank god). Silence gravitated in the room until his tone of words changed the moment the other end was picked up. “ Ciao, buon pomeriggio Signor Zeppeli~ Mi chiamo Dacio.” Dio was actually exemplary in multiple langues -- for being alive as long as he has. Once he heard the other respond he then replied, voice laced with a charming facade. “I’m intrigued with your services, are you available around 4pm today?” Of course the Male couldn’t use his real name, that’s basically telling William I’m alive & well -- come on over & bring your stake. Once again, the room remained silent before ending the conversation with ease. “ Notizie fantastiche! Ci vediamo allora grazie.” Before ending the conversation he kindly passed over the worker his address.  This was absolutely working in his favor, just hopefully he can play the part enough to gain his trust. Handing the phone to his servant he propped himself up on his feet, rotating his shoulders back & cracking his neck both sides. A large palm reached to his left shoulder, grazing the star-shaped scar. “My, i almost forgot about you -- Jojo.”He made sure to cover himself up well -- & now he waited for the afternoon to pass, getting overly excited about the upcoming evening. 

[livelovelaug-h]

No Take me

Request: hi!! dean x reader; reader & the boys get captured by a monster/monsters (your choice) they torture all of them and they say to dean that he has to choose if they kill the reader or sam and etccc;

A/n: hope you like this let me know! And enjoy!! Thanks again for the request. @moonlight-on-her-skin

"So what a vampire and a werewolf?” you asked totally stumped at the crime scene right in front of your eyes. There was a body with a heart out of it with scratches and one body where the blood was completely drained of blood.

“I think so. why do people still go to cabins with all the weird stuff they hear that happens?” Dean says. You nod along. It's true.

“possibly the vampire and werewolf were Lovers?” Sam questioned.

"doesn't that remind you of -"

Dean: "don't say it."

Sam: “Alright let's go research.”

~~~

You and the boys researched, you had a pretty good feeling who it was. "The only thing we have is apparently that bear attack from last week was most probably not a bear attack." You tell Dean as he enters the room. it had been 5 hours of non helping research.

Dean just rubs his hand over his face taking a deep breath and sighing.

"so we can at least go tonight around the area and see what happens." Sam says.

"sounds like a deal. Let's pack."

After you guys packed, went to eat for dinner, y'all Headed over to where you guys were ready to stay in the woods.

You guys were standing around For awhile, after a long time you seen something move out the corner of your eye. Along with another one.

“There!” Sam whispered. You guys chased the things down, eventually they ran into a small shack.

Dean: “Okay we can trap them in there. are you ready?” both you and Sammy nodded.

“Come on out we seen you run in there.” nothing happened for about a minute so Dean kicked the door down your guns blazing.

Cautiously you guys walked around getting ready for the fight that was waiting to happen.

Out of nowhere there was three figures charging at you guys, one for each of you. The fight went on for a little while. You almost won but then they punched you in the face and gut, making you slide down the wall. She kicked you repeatedly in the abdomen. You spit up some blood and when you tried to crawl away she stomped on your ankle making you give out. "SON OF A BITCH." You looked over and Dean was losing his fight and Sam was just like you; already lost. The girl smashed your head into the floor a couple of times

Smash

Smash

. The fight ended when the girl spoke up; she must be the leader you thought.  

“Okay stop. I think they've had enough for now. Tie them up.”

“Why are you doing this??”

“You don't remember me.?” no one says anything.

“of course not." You all looked and were confused.

Dean: "yeah well we got rid of a vampire werewolf relationship before. You don't ring any bells"

“yeah you killed my mom and her werewolf boyfriend. and then you left me alone, because you never came back.”

“The house was on fire how did you-”

“How did I make it out alive? I wouldnt be alive if it weren't for these people”

“because they turned you.”

“Bingo. These two came the next morning. So I guess you never actually did get rid of that case and I guess you never will.”

“look i'm sorry I didn't know you were there. But it's not Sam and y/n's faults. Just let them go and you can have me.”

“Dean no.” you mumbled.

“Sorry no can do. We're gonna let you leave so you can feel the pain and pity. But...”

She got closer to his face “you need to decide who your gonna let walk out with you and who your gonna have to sacrifice to die. Three of you and only two can leave. Tick tock.” she left the room, leaving a huge elephant in the room. You were beaten pretty badly. You knew all the things Dean did to save Sam so the best bet was for you to stay and them to leave.

“Dean there's no way I'm getting out of here anyway, just go with Sam.”

“NO! Your not staying here are you crazy!!? ”

“then what?”

“I don't know. Can you get out of your ropes Sammy?” Dean was starting to lose it. He couldn't lose any of you.

“I've been trying but I can't get anywhere. Even if we do they're gonna know we got out.”

“It's okay.” You whisper. Dean and Sam both close their eyes and sigh.

After 5 minutes the girl and the others come back in. "So who we killing today?”

Dean: “Me you take it or leave it.”

“We told you, you're not an option. Choose again”

“he's picking me.”      

“y/n.” he growled.

“Dean it's the only way. I love you. It's not your fault don't hate you.”

“Perfect we finally decided.” The girl says and her friend comes over with her fangs baring out. They bend over to your neck; the werewolf just watching. "Say it Dean. Say you choose y/n."

He mouths "sorry" & you smile. "it's okay."

you felt a sharp pain in your neck indicating they did bite you. Your skin was being pulled and your blood was just leaving you. You couldn't hold it in anymore "AHHHHH."

Dean: “Stop! Please! Stooooopppp!!!” the werewolf then came over and helped rip your chest apart the last thing you remembered was Dean's screams “stoop get off her!” you saw the good memories quickly fade, like when you first met him, the laughs you two shared and the pies you guys made etc.. most importantly his lips and hands. Actually the most important things would be the small stuff he did. Like putting his hand on the small part of your back when you were leaving or him running over to open the Impala door for you. Sometimes he would actually give you foot massages too. you would miss his smile and the way his eyes crinkle in the corners, the way his hand covered his mouth when he would laugh when he did. Lately he hasn't so hopefully he will soon.

Dean of course was a crying puddle. “Man she tasted good.”

“Fuck off.” even Sam was closing his eyes and crying.

“okay so he’ll stay here so we can get a running start, you'll be free soon. Well free of being tied up, and now free of a relationship too.” she smirks.

“I'm going to kill you.”

“Too late now, she's already dead. you couldn't even kill me today so we'll see cowboy. ciao.”

She left leaving Dean to more. He couldn't believe it, your body just being ripped and eaten apart. It didn't seem real or like you were there at all. After an hour and a half he let Sam & Dean go. Dean was limping but somehow he managed to kill the werewolf; he was furious. He'll get you back hopefully alongside get you the justice you need or he needs.

“I'm sorry man” Sam says.

“J-just.. don't.” When Sam and Dean got back to the hotel Mary and Jack asked “wheres y/n?” and that just broke him more.

Mary hugged him clearly understanding what he meant.

It felt like he couldn't breathe most of the time therefore Dean didn't go in his and your old room for over a week now. it would bring too much pain to him, so he used one of the extra rooms. He drank and drank but he still Remembered.

He got Rowena, Cas, Jack, and Mary even Garth to help him plan to kill those sons of a bitches.

"we got this Dean." Garth said smiling at him.

"yeah I hope so."

[emptywithout]

The Way You Breathe (part 12)

Another White Envelope

Word count: 1599

Warnings: none

Wincest warnings: none

After the first few moments of fitfulness, Sam had eventually slept through the night. Ellen had come over but Sam didn’t wake up for that. She told Bobby she’d stay for a few days if that was ok. She wanted to help Sam. Bobby agreed and they went together to set up the spare bedroom for her.

When Bobby and Ellen were out of the room, there was a knock at the door. Dean looked around to see if Bobby was going to get it, but he must not have heard the knock. Reluctantly, he left Sam’s side. Dean grabbed for his gun and stumbled to the door. He listened, but heard nothing. He opened the door – and found yet another white envelope.

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean’s cry brought Bobby and Ellen back into the room. Dean handed Bobby the unopened envelope, his face red with anger, his fists clenching tightly.

“I don’t want to do this, Bobby. He’s back, why do we still need to do this?”

“Dammit, we have to find the son of a bitch who did this. And we will. Dammit.”

Bobby opened it and read it out loud.

Dean,

I bet you’re happy to have your Sam back. Sorry about the state he’s in. But it needed to be done in order for the spells to hold. Blood Dean. Lots of it. (you do still have the vial of his blood? You’re going to need it later…) And fear. And pain. I got plenty of that from your brother. You know what else? Sam’s crystal lit up. I’m sure yours did too. So that answers our first question. I’m sure you know what that means, am I right?

We needed Sam to be back with you for the next part of this plan of mine.

Sam is going to perform some spells for us. His powers will be growing stronger in the next few weeks. Once he is completely healed, he’s going to help us. He won’t even know it. Oh, it’s nothing dangerous. Not really.

But I need you to do one more thing. One more spell. It will strengthen the last few pieces we need to deal with.

If you do not perform this spell by nine o’clock tonight, someone you love will die.

Guess who?

Ciao.

“Guess who? What the fuck does that mean?” Dean was ready to punch something. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

“This is really messed up, Dean.” Bobby’s voice grew louder with his rising anger.

“Dean, you shouldn’t have to do anything. Sam is back. We have him, he’s safe, you don’t have to do what they demand of you anymore.” Ellen spoke up, her voice sounding shaky.

“No.” said Dean.

“No? Why no?” Ellen was confused.

“I just want this to be over. I want Sam to get better. I want the letters to stop. I just want Sam to be ok and for everything to go back to the way it was.”

“But Dean…”

“But nothing Ellen. Wouldn’t you do anything for Jo? Wouldn’t you? Sam’s my everything, you know. I have to do this to end it all, ok?”

Ellen sucked in a sharp breath, but nodded. She understood. She understood too well.

“Maybe we can find out what this spell is before we do it, though, ok? Before you do it. I want to know what you’ll be doing, alright? I need to keep you safe too…you got that?”

“Ok.” Dean nodded. “I just want this done.”

“We have a few hours before nine, let’s see what we can find out.”

**

Dean looked at the bottom of the letter, at the spell he was supposed to perform. Dean was supposed to read over Sam, while Sam was asleep, and while they were touching. They both needed to wear their crystals.

“Both?” asked Bobby. Dean pulled the blanket back and showed Bobby the matching necklace. Ellen took a closer look, but didn’t want to touch them. Dean held both of them up. They were identical in every way. And when he brought them together, the both lit up blue.

“Holy…” said Ellen.

“Does this mean…? Does this have anything to do with…with the soulmate spell?”

“Yeah, I don’t know Bobby, ok? I mean probably yeah. It probably does. I don’t know why or how, but yeah…I guess…Sam’s my…my soulmate.”

Ellen shook her head in disbelief. She was entering into new territory. Dealing with information she had no idea what to do with. But she wasn’t disturbed by it at all. After all, she had seen many weird things in her life, right? But this? Soulmate stuff? Brand new territory.

Bobby shook his head, too, but he had a tiny smile on his lips. “I’m not surprised, actually. I mean…you guys are all you have besides us. And you just always had a close relationship, you know.”

“Soulmates doesn’t always mean –“

“Ellen, please don’t say it, ok? We’ve got other things to worry about first. Whatever that is,” he waved his hand, dismissing the conversation, “we’ll deal with that later.”

Bobby and Ellen looked at each other and nodded.

Everyone’s eyes turned back to Sam, still sleeping peacefully.

Dean picked up the letter, and tried to figure out the spell.

**

In small printed letters, at the bottom of the letter, it had read, “Pertera Vegetate Fervor Horn”. This wasn’t an ancient language, it wasn’t Latin. It didn’t seem to be any specific language.  Some of those words were English. Or not words at all.

Dean was confused. And a little bit worried. And angry. He thought having Sam back meant it was over.  But he worked with Bobby and Ellen to try and figure out the spell work. None of them could figure it out.

After poring over several books and finding nothing, Dean decided he needed to just do it. It was getting close to nine, and they were out of options. Bobby nodded and Ellen just covered her mouth and cried.

Dean pulled out Sam’s necklace and his own as well. He grabbed Sam’s hands and repeated the words on the page. As the words were spoken, both of their crystals glowed, even brighter than before. Ellen gasped. Dean smiled, relieved. It was done. It was finally over. He had done everything they had asked.

Now he needed to protect Sam, let him heal, and watch him carefully. Hopefully he could prevent him from doing any spells in the future – especially if Sam was going to be unaware of them. All he really wanted was a healthy, happy, safe – and alive – Sammy.

A knock on the door made them all jump.

“Balls!” shouted Bobby as he got up and opened the door. He walked back in with a white envelope.

“No…” breathed Dean.

Bobby opened it.

Dean.

Nice job. We won’t need you for a while now. You have done everything we have asked.

Except one. I told you not to look for me. And yet, there is one who followed us. I will deal with him.

You can let Sam heal and wait for further instructions. Because now there will be more.

I need Sam to heal now. He needs to be in peak condition for the next time I need him.

And now that you know for sure – how will you proceed?

Eyes open, Dean. Eyes open.

Ciao.

 Everyone in the room had a different thought running through their mind.

“What does he mean there’s one watching him? We all – oh Rufus, you idjit…” Bobby put his hand to his head. He hoped Rufus was still alive at this point.

“What does he mean by ‘eyes open’?” asked Ellen.

But Dean just dropped the note on the floor. What would he do…now that he knew for sure his brother, his Sammy – was his true soulmate?

**

Sam started to groan. He squirmed on the couch, his eyes squeezing shut. “Deeeeean,” he moaned softly. Dean immediately knelt by Sam’s side, taking his hand. Bobby and Ellen came up behind the couch, placing their hands on Sam’s shoulder and chest.  Dean gripped Sam’s hand as tightly as he could, trying not to aggravate his injured wrists.

“D’n?”

“I’m here Sammy. We’re all here, Bobby and Ellen and me, ok? You’re safe, Sammy.”

“Uhhh…D’n. Hurts.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I know, Sam. It’s ok. We are all here. You’re home. You’re safe, I promise, ok? We’re going to make it better. Hang in there.”

“Dean. Please. Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I’ll never leave you Sam. Never. I promise, ok?”

Sam nodded. He reached out for another hand, “Bobby? Ellen?”

Both of them grabbed his hand and Sam relaxed when he felt their touch.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Bobby couldn’t help but cry. “Sam. Love you, son.”

Sam smiled. “Love you too, Bobby.”

Dean relaxed more and more as Sam woke up. Soon, Sam’s eyes were open all the way and he was trying to smie.

“You ok there Sam?”

“No, not really. Everything hurts so much. But you’re here, Ellen and Bobby and Rufus, too…I know I’m safe.” He exhaled softly, grimacing at the pain he was experiencing.

Ellen and Bobby exchanged looks, knowing Rufus was nowhere to be found. And telling Sam about Jo and Ash was going to be heartbreaking.

It was too soon to tell him, of course. He had already been through enough pain. Adding this would only make things worse. They would tell him eventually.

TWYB peeps: @charliebradbury1104 @winchesterlovinspn @sammyimpala-67 @ameliacareful @karategirl80 @bunnybaby121115 @ravenangel33 @oneshoeshort