#i think along the way sam kept trying to tell and kept being rebuffed

[dyed-red]

What spawned that ask was me stumbling across a Reddit about how Sam should’ve told Jess the truth, and that one post about how Jess didn’t really know him, but the story sounds insane without proof and uh, it wouldn’t have saved her anyways since the actual threat was possessed!Brady, in which Sam didn’t pick up the signs because a) they rarely encountered demons before the show started so he wouldn’t have realized b) they clearly didn’t know all the signs of possession since it is canon Azazel had demons watching Sam that nobody picked up on what with Lucifer’s reveal being a genuine shock to Sam unless John saw demons around his son and exorcised them without ever once telling Sam about the demons carefully positioned in his life. And I hate to break it to some people, but you can know someone without knowing absolutely every thing about them. Sam’s capable of giving the broad details of his life and who he is, and I’m sure he said something about why his family never visited and he never went to them because he was functionally disowned, without getting into hunting. Jess isn’t surprised when Sam says John’s probably drunk and lost track of time, she knew something

anon, you are so right. i have nothing to add, except that i like you highlighting that it's not like he told her nothing about himself and his past and his family, because yeah. i mean, they were living together, she had to have had some insight into sam and his life, even if it was a somewhat sanitized version.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

OT3FIC: Sheepdog

18 -  gift approach creepy cap catch repulsive glasses plan  

---

If Jack Crawford rolled up the drive in the big black car of his, he would think it was his biggest birthday ever and that Will had found him the very best present - all gift-wrapped in a shiny, black Impala bow. Three of the high level ‘criminals’ that constantly circulated the agency were sat around his kitchen table playing some card game that was half Go Fish, half Uno and used Monopoly real estate cards instead. He’d sat down to play earlier and excused himself with a head ache within ten minutes to go to the front lounge with a sigh instead.

“They still playing whatever game that is?” “Yeah. I... What even are the rules of that game? How do they all know it?” “I’m not sure, you’d have to ask Jo.” “Did they play it together as kids?”

“So far as I know, they only met as adults actually.” Grey replied, shifting in his spot on the couch to raise his arm around the top of Will’s shoulders as Will sank down beside him and leaned into the open space. As he rested his head back against the other’s shoulder, the empath could almost immediately feel the headache fading away.

“What? I thought-” Will mumbled the words out, before reaching a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Aren’t they related, somehow?”

“Well, family for Jo isn’t exactly blood-related.” “Oh?” “You’ve met Bobby, right? He’s like a dad for her but he’s not her dad-dad. Same as Sam and Dean, they’re like her brother’s but they aren’t actually related to her in any way.”

Will nodded a little bit, sinking into the nook of the other’s side with a quiet sigh. “I just thought they must have been related somewhere along the line.” He frowned a little, tugging his glasses off to rub more thoroughly at his nose. “Or at least grew up around one another.”

“I think they just learned the game through Bobby, he was in all their lives early on.” Grey replied, shifting a little and then moving his hands towards the his head, and Will let out a quiet groan as the shadow began massaging gently through his curls. “They...they aren’t so bad as their first impression might give off.”

“You mean Dean isn’t a jerk who makes comments to Jo about two guys on the go at once?” “...He said what?” “Don’t worry about it, Jo already punched him for it.” “Oh good. But yeah, Dean might be a bit-” “Of an asshole-” “Yes. But he’s not so bad. He is very... protective of Jo.”

“Jealous bastard.” Will muttered under his breath, leaning his head back into the other’s skilled hands with another sigh as the tension he could feel building at the back of his head disappearing with each rub of the other’s fingers over the area gently. The moment Will had shook the other’s hand, the hunter had crushed his palm, flexing the strength more than was necessary for such a hold, and that the very next thing had been for the hunter to let go and spin about to talk to the blonde and completely ignore his existence had been odd. On top of that, had been how blank a slate the hunter had felt like in that small handshake - almost as silent as the shadow brushing his hand through Will’s hair, and Will had had to fight down a shudder from how silent it had felt. Only a few humans had felt like that in Will’s passing, and usually those were the kind that he ended up with his gun held out towards them.

The empath sighed again, reclining further into the warm embrace and touch, feeling the twitch in his forehead of the oncoming headache before adding, “Sam seemed okay - nice enough, it’s just... He’s so loud.”

“What?” “He’s loud, so very very loud.” “I..didn’t hear any voices raised?”

“Not that kind of loud, ma douceur. He just fills the air with his self.” The empath muttered, snuggling in closer as the last of his headache faded away and he turned under the other’s arm with a tiny frown. It had been almost so strange that the first handshake with the taller hunter had been just as silent and quiet as his brother, all calm and quiet and soft, and Will had almost thought it was just a family trait or his never having met the men. That was until Will had sat beside the hunter for the one and only round of their strange card game that they all began, when within two minutes he’d felt the headache starting from just how loud the feelings of happiness, excitement and joy as well as an undercurrent of pain that poured out of the tall man as he held an almost blank look towards the table or the smallest of smiles so different to the rush of emotions that Will could feel coming out of him. “Sam just bleeds all over the place.”

Grey looked confused for a moment, and Will tipped his head back to look at the other as he kicked his feet up on the other end of the couch to watch the confusion and then comprehension cross the blue eyed man’s face. “He does?” The other sounded surprised, an eyebrow raising curiously, “I always found Dean to be the loud one.”

“And you always say Jo’s quiet-” “I mean, not always.”

Will found himself laughing at that, shaking his head as he paused to hear the sound of laughter bouncing from down the hall in the kitchen, a tiny frown forming as he heard Jo’s high and light in a way he rarely heard until she’d been home for over a day from a hunt - and yet she was already within an hour of getting home. A tiny flicker stabbed at his stomach thinking it over until her felt two fingers probing and smoothing over his forehead and eyebrows.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grey said quietly, continuing to smooth gently over the other’s forehead, and then pressing a kiss to the space after a moment. “They’re just.. it’s a world no matter how much we try, we’re not going to understand or fit in.”

“But-” “It’s out of our grasp, Will. They grew up in their little secret world, and they’ll keep living in it even if they do other things with other people.”

---

The man was completely blank. Blanker than blank - Will was used to blanks after being around the shadow and his psychiatrist, but this man read as completely nothing at Will’s approach. Absolutely nothing came off of him, and if the man hadn’t been walking and talking, Will would have thought him dead.

Will had held a hand out to shake, the manners his mother taught him still there  - the little voice that sounded like her that said they might not have much money and the roof over their head could be taken from them, but no one could take away their manners -  despite the years and years of issues and problems and anxiety that such touching had caused in his childhood, and felt a shudder run down his spine when the shorter British man had rebuffed the greeting with a sneer.

There had been something inherently repulsive to Will as he watched the man talk - the way he’d twitch his hand out as if to reach towards the shadow, the looks of disdain that were sent his own way whenever Grey’s attention would be pulled away from the suited man, and the way the moment Jo’s blue car pulled along the drive way the man was gone - as if Will had been privy to only a tenth of what was going on, and the way Grey’s shoulders had slumped on occasion at some veiled word or phrase or other had set Will’s teeth on edge. If he’d been any more like Jo and less non-confrontational, he would have found himself shooing the man off of their front porch the moment Grey’s arm had jerked downwards as if in pain away from the man at one point.

He’d not brought it up with the shadow afterwards, the way the other man had scurried inside rather than wait outside to greet the blonde and help with the grocery bags full from the trunk was signal enough that whatever it was Will had walked up the drive with the dogs from their walk to was something unusual and uncomfortable for the man.

It wasn’t for a few more days that Will managed to ask quietly if Jo had any clue as to who the man was and what may have affected the other so much that Will knew just why he had felt the way he had.

“You’re sure he was British? Had an accent and everything?” “Yes. Was wearing some black suit and shirt, and kept trying to touch Grey.” “He didn’t manage to get inside did he?” “No? He just, uh, they were just talking on the porch when I got home.”

“Well good, I didn’t want to have to get the smell of sulfur out of here on his account.” Jo had hissed the words out, her hands clenching in a tight way that Will only saw when talking about Hannibal Lecter or Jack Crawford, before she sneered with a look almost similar to the same as the British man had had himself. “If he’s ever ‘round again, can you tell him to shove an iron rod up his arse until it disappears.” Jo’s voice took on a mocking of the man’s own accent briefly, horrible and hilarious sounding, but Will couldn’t find it in himself to laugh at it.

“Of course, ma deesse, but who was he?” Will reached a hand out gently to placate her, and pulled back entirely at the sheer swarm of cold fury that was thrumming through her, what had felt like a general buzz of annoyance before was translating as pure hatred the moment he had touched her skin. “Jo-”

“That was fuckin’ Crowley.” “...That was Crowley?!” “Yeah, the fuckin’ piece of trash disgustin’ foul motherfuckin’-”

“Jo!” Will said again, reached out again now he was prepared for the feeling of hatred and repulsion that would rush through him the moment he touched her, shaking her should a little before the blonde silenced herself with a scowl. “I’ll tell you immediately the next time I spot him.”

The cold rage continued to run through the other, and Will almost felt sick from how much was filled and hidden under the soft smile and gentle ‘thank you’ he received from the blonde - her face nothing but genial and kind compared to the rolling fury underneath; and rubbing her shoulders and neck gently before suggesting they take the dogs for a walk, Will filed the information away to ask the shadow about just why Jo was so mad the next time.

---

The sun was sharp overhead, and Will was thankful for the dappled shade that the oak tree provided as he lifted the hoe up again and began on the next row of digging and troweling. Reaching a hand up, he lifted the front of his cap and wiped the sweat that was collecting from his brow with a huff. It had been hard work thus far, yet he was working just as hard as the blonde with her cut off shorts and the shadow that was working harshly to pull the dead tree root out of the ground a few feet over where the next vegetable bed was planned for.

“Well looky here! What a group of cuties you’ve got here, brother!” The cheery voice appeared out of nowhere, and Will dropped the heavy wooden end of his implement down upon his foot in surprise as he span about to stare towards the tree the voice came from. The dark haired woman let out a laugh as she stepped forward, her boots far too formal and fancy for the dirt of the farm and her outfit better suited for a runway than the country. “Oh look at the new one! Cupcake, did you catch this one too?”

“Shada, good to see you.” Jo was the first one to reply, but made her way towards him instead of the newcomer as the other man made his way across to the brunette. “Here to help with the garden are you?”

“Not in the slightest! You’re all so dirty and sweaty.” “Sometimes that’s fun.” “He sure looks fun!”

“Shada, please stop eyeing off our boyfriend.” Grey cut over whatever Jo might have replied with, reaching the woman and bringing her in for a quick, brief hug. “Will is not yours to oggle.”

“Well, he should wear a shirt and not look so ruggedly handsome.” Shada replied, a smirk on her face as her eyes ran over Will in a way that made him want to hide behind the slight amount of cover that Jo could provide, shifting to the side and covering half of his front with the blonde in a single move. “Awwww don’t hide!”

“Shada!” Grey’s voice was loud as he snapped back at the woman, tugging on her arm to turn the woman away from the pair. “Stop being-”

“Fine, fine. I’ll stop!” “Good.” “I just wanted to come meet your new human, brother.” “Well, you could be politer about it-”

“Oh very true!” The woman chirped back before Will blinked and she was gone from the spot near the other, and not even a foot away from him right before Jo, and smiling up at him. “Well, I’m sorry - it’s nice to meet you, Puppy, my name’s Shada, Grey’s favorite sister.”

“Pu-puppy?” Will stammered the word out, tilting his head to the side and pulling Jo closer in front of him between him and the new woman with a frown. She seemed amused by the move, but the fact he couldn’t pick up much off of the woman, Will wasn’t surprised to hear she was like Grey - the faint amusement clear but little else.

“You’re goin’ with Puppy?” “Yes, Cupcake, you’re all about baking and he’s all about those dogs!” “I mean...”

“Jo! Don’t give her an inch with that!” Grey’s face was almost entirely red as he approached, giving a disapproving look to the blonde as Jo shrugged a shoulder at him, and Will struggled to keep up with who was saying what and to whom. “Shada, please, his name is Will and you should remember it.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I Will.” Shada’s eyebrow quirked up alongside the edge of her lips in a small devious smirk before she turned back to her brother entirely and began bringing up something about some other sibling needing a hand or a guiding hand or something. Whatever it was, they turned and moved away while Jo turned in his arm and laughed at the peculiar look on his face at just how like a warm breeze the female shadow was - there in an instant and gone quite as fast.

---

This was him. The moment Will saw them from across the bar, he knew immediately who it had to be. The slight roll of menace but an underlying playfulness coming off of him directly purely towards the blonde made it abundantly clear between that and the description he had heard several times from the pair that this? This was the other brother.

Will had always been told to have an exit plan on the off chance he ever encountered the dark shadow. Ever since Jo had looked over his shoulder and isolated over five of the cases Will had been brought in on and failed to locate the killer on, both shadow and hunter had known it would be only a matter of time before he crossed paths with him. He’d thought that the best strategy was to remove himself from the situation, to back away and hope to avoid being noticed. And always have an iron knife in his boot.

However standing there, staring across the other side of the bar from where the blonde had her head thrown back in a laugh and he could see the hand reached out covering hers on the bar top? Will only followed one of those planned elements at all.

Stalking around the end of the bar and sidling up behind Jo, the empath slid his arm around the waist of the blonde woman as if there was nothing amiss and turned his face to look in her direction even as he kept his eyes looking out the corner towards the other man and the twist of a sneer that was forming on his face.

“Ma deesse, you didn’t tell me you’d be out tonight?” “I had to meet with another friend earlier and then I ran into-”

“Ah yes, your friend here?” Will asked, the question sounding not at all question-like as he turned to stare at the other man who was looking down his nose at him with a look of disdain on his face. He slid his hand more firmly around Jo’s waist, pulling her back against his front firmly and around to cover her stomach possessively. “I haven’t had to pleasure to meet you yet. Gray isn’t it?”

“Oh, have you been telling your new dog about me, sweetie?” The dark haired man smirked a little, his eyes following Will’s hand for a moment before they went entirely towards the blonde’s eyes instead. “Or is it the runt telling stories?”

“I-” “I don’t need either of them to tell me about you, you’re making yourself famous in my work.”

“Am I now?” The shadow almost seemed to want to laugh, though it came out more of a sneer as Will shifted his grip and turned to press a kiss against Jo’s head for a moment when she’d tried to interrupt. As much as he loved when Jo spoke and would talk back and tease, he didn’t care in that moment looking down the other shadow that he’d walked in the footsteps of. Will could not have the man that had done such destruction and horror, the bloodshed and depraved acts, anywhere near his angel without wanting to remove them as soon as possible. “And what exactly do you do, dogman?”

Will felt his own lips twisting into a dark grin in response as he moved his other hand to cover and pull Jo’s hand from under the other man’s, the feral look and shadows of the bar making the pair of them match in the dim lighting.

“I hunt men like you.”

---

[bksayinfuckitall]

Reminiscing

He was my first divorced (actually, divorcing) man. At least that I knew of.

Is it possible I was 32 and in love with a 30-year-old whose wife had left him? Can’t get a grip on the swift yet endless passage of time lately.

My life was shit at the time, back in 2005. Until I started battling depression, I can’t remember a more miserable state of life. Started when I got mugged in October, broke my hand, enjoyed major surgery and a 4-month recovery. Then I inherited a promiscuous opioid addict as a roommate, followed by the transformation of roommate #2 into a fuckhead bill-skipper. Followed by my company announcing on the day after NY that they were divesting my company, which led to 4 months of complete shit and drama and gossip and anxiety in the workplace.

Eric became a factor to me right in the middle of that. I had known him for at least a couple years, he and his wife, through the peer group at church, and they were often at social gatherings. Always thought of him as perhaps the most striking and conventionally handsome of any man I was friends with….compact with defined muscles from weekly rock climbing, olive skin, smooth chestnut hair with just enough length, matching eyes the size of dollar coins and matched with a similar shine. But, married.

(I used to not do married, BTW, FWIW.)

I can still remember the day and moment the worm turned for me. November. Me with arm still wrapped and in a splint, trying to juggle plate and glass at a church voter’s potluck, encountering Eric in a random hello, me suggesting he tell his lovely wife hello from me. (I do know that I used the word lovely.) Him squinting his eyes and twisting his mouth in a way I would grow used to seeing and craving….well, it was awkward to say, but he and his wife were separated, she had moved out. Me, feeling awkward, but offering condolences….

I don’t remember how it happened, but he and I went for a walk sometime later that night, after that potluck. Down Comm Ave’s promenade to the Mass Ave turnaround. I got no more wife talk. I got the “I used to be a Catholic and think it fucked up my life and now I’m a conservative Lutheran” conversation. It was the first of many unloadings we would share.

This led to us hanging out. I recall we actually went out alone for NY’s eve – for Indian dinner and the Tam for night caps. Once we were with some other folks at a Sam Adams brewery festival , and (how on earth did this happen?) someone handed us a pair of Bruins tickets he couldn't use....the next minute we were on our way to the Fleet Center, in the stands, just enjoying the whole scene. But he was struggling with the separation and what I would learn was a tremendous guilt….evidently his predilection for online porn (maybe personal relationships came out of this, don’t remember), often during the workday from his work-at-home business, was a driving factor in the break-up. He was actually in a support group for sex addicts with a weekly meeting and a mentor, the whole shebang. I remember really admiring this….person facing up to problems and all that. He was so desperately sad and trying to keep himself occupied. Which was maybe why we kept getting together.

I was so attracted to him….personally, but it seems more robustly, to his angst. Here I was, miserable and gimpy and in an uncertain job situation, and here was this gorgeous, friendly, warm and sad man needing support and reciprocating by reaching out to me, too. It was overwhelming. We were sharing each other’s misery and I fell harder and harder.

I still remember the day in January where he wrote me an apology e-mail, rebuffing my offer to go watch the Bruins and drink a beer, explaining that he was still married and that he was not working hard enough at saving his marriage and that, by hanging with me, he was showing his wife that he didn’t care enough. So overwhelmed: he saw me the way I saw him, as a confidante, companion, possible lover. I wanted him all the more after that.

The moment of truth hit in an unexpected way. Group social outing in the basement of the Charles Street theatre on St Patrick’s Day, me and several dudes from church., including him. We had been more distant since his gentle rebuff, but on this night we were back to old times. The night went by quickly and suddenly, very late. Why the others left and we stayed, I can’t remember. Only knew that as the night got late we were dancing together to folks belting karaoke, and he’s got his arm around my back and as we’re heedlessly, drunkenly, swinging about, he grips me and holds me against him. And swings me out, and pulls me back. And then holds me and moves with me. I can still remember the warmth of that recognition that we were with each other. We were going to go somewhere with this, his separation be damned.

Where we went was back to my house, buzzed, wound up. We hadn’t wanted to separate after closing but didn’t know what to do with that; I remember some promise of a nightcap. But I don’t even know if we pretended to get a drink before we were heavy into it. I can still see the scene as from above, me straddling his lap, pressing down on him and into him, so much energy, his complete embrace. Me never wanting anything as much as I wanted him on that couch, kissing as hard as we could, the tension of months coming together.

It still hurts to write about this, after all that came to pass after that first desperate groping, because I cannot forget how intensely I wanted him. And how devastated I was for him to pull away, agonized, telling me he shouldn’t be doing this. His sex addiction. His support group. That he cared for me, but didn’t think he could give me what I wanted, which was him completely. That he wanted me badly but that he didn’t want to use me for sex…so he didn’t want to start down that path.

We just kept making out, still desperately, him pulling away and pushing me aside. Then sitting watching me, disbelieving and teary, and grabbing me again. I don’t know how we ended in my bed. Perhaps I convinced him we needed to sleep and our sex drives took over. But nothing was consummated. Just more hard-pressing making out….and his guilt-filled reactions.

And that’s as far as it ever went. Sure, for the next 2 months there were some awkward dates and even more awkward making out in cars and no sex and no more easy comfort between us. I was reading into everything. He and his wife decided to divorce for real and started the process. I started a new job and finished up the awfulness of the transition work, losing 2 managers in the process. I reached out to him, to try and be that solace to him, and he wasn’t having it.

Very shortly thereafter, he went rock climbing one Tuesday night and met the woman who would become his second wife. She is now one of my best friends, a genuinely kind soul, someone who like me suffers from anxiety and depression and, now, dissatisfaction with her husband (tastefully alluded to but never gossiped about). But at the time I couldn’t stand to look at her, Didn’t want to meet her when he started bringing her to church. Couldn’t get over the fact that I was that old cliche….sure, Eric wasn’t ready to be in a relationship, but more succintly, it was in a relationship with me. He and I tried to be friendly, but the awkwardness never dissipated. I still desperately wanted him.

This reminiscing went on way longer than I meant it to. I realize now that in the last 11 years, I maybe only wrote seriously once about those 6 months in my life that took me easily a couple years to get past. There was a point where I remember just getting over it. Maybe it was because I liked his wife so much. The 3 of us, eventually, began hanging out regularly and with groups – for beer, after church, running and, even once, they took me along climbing. I used to wonder if Eric had ever told Brandi that I had been in love with him, if he had been truthful. She’s pretty practical, and I would suggest she wouldn’t be upset if she did know….would just see it as part of a past, of which we all have one.

Eric and I, we never brought up our relationship again. It was like it hadn’t happened. He clearly didn’t need or want to. I both needed and wanted to clear the air and knew it wouldn’t do any good to press it.

Over the years of being friends, I grew away from that love and desire for Eric. A number of times, in the rare uncomfortable scenarios where he was uncooperative or cranky, I thanked my lucky stars…that shit would have driven me nuts. Even more so when I sensed that he was growing more intense about his work and putting his wife on the back burner, and she growing anxious and nervous and introverted. Dodged the bullet.

Friday, the 13th was Eric’s 42nd birthday. I’ve helped him celebrate many birthdays over the years, and this time I joined a large group at a Central Square bar, coming in mid-party, when everyone was already feeling pretty good. I watched the tension between him and Brandi – knowing her brave face and her side of the story and her desire to just go home and stop having to be social – and him wanting to go out, stay out, head down the street to play darts. As it happened, as the latecomer with 2 bourbons under my belt, I was quite ready to keep the party going.

And the party became him and me and all of a sudden it was 2006 all over again. Great chumminess. Lots of shoulder patting and cozy chat. Two rounds of beer. Hours passing – four, to be exact. Then the dart-playing friends (we had just met) bought us another bourbon. And then it was he and me, staring at each other across a sticky, late-night table. Me broaching our past. Him acknowledging it. Me broaching his strained marriage. Him acknowledging it. Him grabbing onto my biceps, across the table, as if his life depended on it. Once his hand came up and found that sweet spot at the back of my neck and gripped there….tension, sadness, regret, apology. And he apologized to me for that time. And I made excuses for him and said yes, I know I know, divorce sucks, how could you have been any different. And he leaned his head onto my shoulder in regret, then lifted it up and looks me dead-on, his face not an inch from mine. I really, really, really, really thought we were going to kiss. I wanted it, because I was so incredulous with the situation and that desire came flooding back to me.

The good news, I guess, is that I grew up in these last 11 years. And I thought immediately of my friend, his wife, and how there was no need for me to complicate anything and how I couldn’t do that to her, ever, and how I knew very well we were both drunk and emotions were heightened and that’s all it was. Despite 5 drinks and some serious physical buildup, I had discipline, and so did he, and we shut it down right then.

Or I did, anyway. Maybe the tension was all my imagination and nostalgia. Maybe I just wanted that kiss. Just to have tried it again. Damn the consequences.

Instead, the lights came up. Closing. I said, ‘let’s get you home.’ And we did. Him in an Uber to Somerville. Me on my bike to Southie. Shouting and cursing in frustration the whole 5 miles, my voice ringing through the cold empty stretches of Mass Ave.

“Jesus Christ!” I bellowed. “What the Fuck? What was that? How the Fuck? Aw, Jesus Christ, why.”

I’m incredulous that it came back, even for a moment. I’m gratified that I knew it existed, that our connection was not my imagination. I’m proud that I stopped myself from making a bad situation worse. I find myself sad that here Eric is, again, having problems in a marriage and wondering just how serious they are. And realizing in so many ways I am the wrong person to want to either know. Or help. I imagine myself feeling this sticky desire and validation again, and then I try to imagine my stressed, anxious girlfriend who is struggling to connect with her husband. About whom I can never share how I felt. Or feel.

Well, I can share it here. Evidently it was something I needed to expel, and perhaps should have expelled it long ago.

This weekend I was in CVS, standing in the greeting card aisle. Thinking that I hadn't gotten Eric a birthday card. I still could. I could give him a pat on the back and thumbs up and a jokey reference about getting older. And then I thought, Brandi will know I sent this. Brandi knows we stayed out until 2:30 a.m., alone. And I don't need to go there. I walked out, not buying anything.