#ean 8

[thatssosussex]

Columbia Day 1- Meghan participated in the Responsible Digital Future Summit at EAN University. (8/15/24)

[nametakensff]

Cat For Grabs (D/isco E/lysium) (M)

Okay, here is 4.3k of cat allergy K/im K/itsuragi because why the fuck not 🐈‍⬛️💞

J/ean and K/im arrive on scene at a murder, where the victim's pet cat takes a particular liking to K/im. Allergic misery ensues

(Set in the kind of AU I've cobbled together where H/arry and K/im are an item, maybe like 8 months post M/artinaise. They hook up with J/ean regularly)

~~~~~

Content:

M/M/M mentioned and ongoing but mostly in the bg, cat allergy sneezes, spray, handkerchiefs, rapid sneezes, stifles, nose blows, mentions of anal sex, mentions of hay fever sneezes, mentions of blowjobs, H/arry has a sneezing fetish (but he isn't here), J/ean and K/im flirt a lot

CW: Graphic descriptions of a dead body at a crime scene, K/im performs a brief autopsy, mentions of gun violence, they are cops so you know. Just doing cop things

NSFW - Minors DNI!

Jean was the first to arrive on the scene, alone. Absolutely not ideal – he was at real risk of danger if the shooter – or multiple shooters – were still on the property. The precinct was in absolute maelstrom - an unprecedented amount of crime this week, even for Jamrock. Jean had driven here by himself once he realised Harry was entirely incapacitated. He’d fixed him a look of annoyance until the older man had returned it with a look of his own that said ‘please don’t be mad at me, I’m drowning.’

Jean had sent out a general radio request for backup to any nearby officers for this apparent shooting, which had taken place in a fairly quiet and respectable part of town. He’d been grateful to hear Kim’s confirmation that he would be there within minutes, as well as some other patrol officers affirming the same. Jean should have waited outside, perhaps, but he had a gut feeling as he pulled up to the small, bungalow-style apartment that it was empty. A quick search with his gun held steadily in front of him confirmed that he was entirely alone.

Unless you counted the gory remains of the sole resident splayed out on the kitchen floor.

“Well.” He said to the corpse, nudging its ankle with the toe of his boot. “You’re certainly very dead.”

The metallic scent of blood in the air was overwhelming. An even more overwhelming and unpleasant scent of sewage indicated that the bullets littering the torso of the corpse had also passed through the colon multiple times. Jean wrinkled his nose and covered it with his hand. He almost wished his hay fever was still hindering his ability to smell.

But god, this was a bloody, violent murder. The surrounding cabinets were littered with bullet holes that appeared to have been sprayed in wide arcs across the room indiscriminately. It had to be the work of an automatic weapon. Jean spared another glance at the corpse, then made his way back into the living room. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

He thought it better to wait for Kim to perform a conclusive field autopsy. He didn’t want to leave himself distracted and vulnerable to any potential attacks by performing one alone now. And, if Jean was being honest with himself, Kim had a stronger stomach for corpses - perhaps thanks to his time and experience in Processing - and a markedly weaker sense of smell. He glanced at his watch. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.

He peered round the room. It always felt intrusive entering people’s apartments like this if he had spare time to overthink. This particular home was exceptionally drab; hardly any items or photographs to indicate personality or interests. Just ugly greys and browns and lumpy furniture. There were a few books stacked on a coffee table, but their covers looked just as banal as everything else.

A sudden shuffling sound to his left made Jean jump and reach for his gun. He looked round frantically, cursing himself and half expecting to see some crazed gunman crouched behind one of the armchairs, ready to mow him down like the man in the kitchen. Thank the lord, he did not. What he did see, however, was a visibly well-fed cat with thick black fur emerging from underneath a nearby bookshelf. Heart beating wildly in his chest, he let out a long sigh of relief and regarded the doddering approach of the supremely rotund animal. Come to think of it, he had noticed a litter-box in the bathroom.

The cat slumped at his feet, looking incredibly at ease and not at all as if its owner’s bullet-riddled corpse was resting in a pool of his own red-black blood just one room over. It mewed at him, butting his boot with its head before rolling onto its side. Jean couldn’t resist kneeling down and getting closer. He scratched gently behind an ear and smiled as the tip of a little white fang stuck out of the cat’s closed mouth, giving it an endearingly goofy appearance. A small blue collar was secured round its neck (no bell, just his luck) with a metal nametag hanging from a loop of metal. He lifted the tag up with his thumb and forefinger to examine it.

“’Beau’.” He read the name out loud. “Well, you are a handsome boy, aren’t you?” He cooed down at it, stroking it from head to tail once it was clear he wouldn’t be leaving the encounter in receipt of a mauling.

Around thirty seconds later, he could hear the familiar rumble of an approaching Coupris motor car. He kept his hand on his gun just in case, allowing his arm to drop to his side when Kim made his way through the living room door, gun outstretched before him. His orange bomber jacket was a sight for sore eyes against the surrounding bleak topography. Once Kim spotted Jean on the floor looking back up at him, he lowered his own gun in relief.

“My apologies, Detective Vicquemare – I came as fast as I could, there was some congestion nearby.” He peered at the cat for a moment, then back at Jean’s face. “The premises is secure, correct?”

“Would I be on my knees playing with a cat if it wasn’t?” Jean muttered, scratching under the cat’s little chin and smiling in adoration as it closed its eyes in pleasure. “We have a single body, in the kitchen.”

Kim nodded, holstering his weapon and scanning the living room with a perfunctory glance. The cat shifted under Jean’s broad palm, turning to face the source of this most recent disturbance. The second the lethargic feline lay eyes on Kim, it jumped to its feet and strode away from Jean and towards the Lieutenant, tail raised high. Kim froze in his tracks and glanced down in what looked to Jean like mild dismay as it drew closer. The cat began without a moment’s hesitation to wind itself lovingly between Kim’s ankles, nuzzling into his legs and pressing every inch of itself against him. It meowed loudly between little rumbles and purrs.

Jean couldn’t deny that it was both an endearing and amusing sight. The cat had certainly been friendly enough to accept his pets, but for whatever reason, it appeared to be especially enamoured with Kim. He didn’t think the feeling was reciprocated; Kim lifted an ankle, tsking as the cat, instead of moving away as intended, reached up with its front paws until Kim put the foot back down. It then resumed its figure 8 of adoration whilst Kim looked down in a gentle kind of exasperation.

“He really likes you.” Jean smiled at Kim, getting to his feet and brushing cat hair from the knees of his uniform.

“I can see that.” Kim did smile softly then, regarding the happy little creature, but made no move to reach down and stroke it. If Jean had been on the receiving end of that magnitude of love from a cat, he would have scooped it up into his arms in seconds.

“Not a fan of cats?”                     

Kim looked up at him for a moment, then back down at the cat, frowning slightly as it increased the intensity of both its purring and nudging.

“It’s not that. I like them well enough. It’s j-just…!”

His breath wavered, and Jean watched as he brought a gloved fist up to his face. He recognised the desperation of the pre-sneeze expression on the Lieutenant, and patiently waited for him to finish. Under normal circumstances and with anybody else, he probably would have looked away for the sake of the other person’s dignity - but he’d seen Kim sneeze more than enough times in extremely abnormal circumstances to bother with any pretence.

He didn’t share Harry’s interest in sneezing in quite the same way, but there was an element of enjoyment in watching Kim fall apart. No matter how he sliced it, he couldn’t deny the analogous nature of sneezing and orgasming; Harry had long since hammered that into him. And so, he watched with a certain degree of appreciation as Kim’s eyebrows drew up and his jaw fell open in surrender, before his entire expression cinched tight, the tickle cresting.

“Hh! Hh’gxkt! Ng’xt! Hh’Ddtch!! NGxt’tsziew!”

They were quiet, polite and almost perfectly restrained – much like the Lieutenant himself. Both he and Kim were prone to multiple sneezes, but it seemed to take a lot more out of the older man to strangle them into submission. Jean had always sneezed in small, ticklish fits that rarely resolved the irritation without multiple repetitions. Every now and then he was prone to a more productive and vigorous sneeze, especially following prolonged attacks that forced him to take in a final, desperate gasp of oxygen to round off the fit. It didn’t make too much of a difference to him physically whether he stifled them into silent little shivers or not. It honestly depended on company whether he would bother.

He wasn’t sure why Kim bothered holding back when it was just the two of them. He’d save himself a lot of congestion and sniffling down the line if he let those sneezes out now - Jean could honestly say he knew that from numerous past observations. But he wouldn’t mention it - it was best to leave Kim alone and let him do what he wanted. He was a bit of a control freak – not that Jean could really fault him for that, being a stubborn ass himself – so there was no point in nagging him. He himself hated when others commented on his frequent and persistent sneezing, especially when his allergies were killing him. Most of the Major Crimes unit now knew to leave him well alone, particularly on his most miserable – and therefore volatile – hay fever days.

With the exception of Harry, of course. In a completely inconvenient and Pavlovian fashion, he had almost come to associate his hay fever with sexual gratification. Both he and Harry knew his initial rejections of Harry’s advances were merely for show, and a matter of pride. Every time his superior officer would sidle up to him and suggest they find some privacy, he would eventually break and let the older man fuck him, or suck his cock. He may as well get an orgasm out of the endless torture that plagued him throughout late spring and summer. It wasn’t even that bad, being fucked and sneezing your head off at the same time. Aggravatingly, if he were to be honest, it was actually rather fun. He supposed he was more or less an expert at this point.

Kim was more recently initiated into the whole fucking and sneezing thing. For what it was worth, he seemed like a perfectly kinky motherfucker who enjoyed watching Harry squirm. And there was almost no better way to do that than to tease him with this fetish, which Kim took to like a duck in water. Jean had to admit whenever the three of them fucked around and Harry inevitably begged to be indulged, it was reassuring – and very fun – to know that they had the numbers against him. Brothers in arms. God, what a life.

Kim lowered his fist with a shaky exhale, looking worn out by the onslaught for just a moment before his regular placid countenance was restored. His nostrils flared briefly with an audibly damp sniffle.

“À tes souhaits.” Jean offered.

“Merci.”

Kim looked up at him and flashed him a sheepish sort of ‘haha. Look at us. Sneezing in the wild’ conspiratorial glance. Jean smirked at him.

“As I was saying. I don’t dislike cats. I just dislike that they tend to make me sneeze.”

Jean nodded and looked round at the flat. Cat hair covered most surfaces, if only sparsely. A beam of sunlight coming through one of the narrow windows illuminated a few stray hairs dancing round on the currents of air. He winced a little in sympathy. The sight even made his own nose tickle a little; he subconsciously reached up to rub the side of it with a crooked finger.

“You’re shit out of luck, then. It’s cat hair heaven in here.”

Kim sighed wearily, accepting his fate. As if picking up at last on Kim’s less-than-satisfied state of being, the cat paused in its motions to drape itself over the toes of Kim’s boots and glance up at him with a sweet ‘Mroww’, which Jean could swear lilted up in pitch as if to question the Lieutenant. Kim looked down at the cat with soft eyes.

“It’s not your fault, little one. Don’t worry.”

He hesitated for a moment before reaching down and gingerly stroking the top of the cat’s head with a gloved hand. It was an awkward and brief motion; he pulled back before the cat could nuzzle its docile head into his palm. Both Jean and Kim watched as even the minor scritches unearthed a tiny cloud of soft black fur. Kim jerked upright almost violently, and Jean had to stifle a laugh.

“I’ll be paying for that in a while,” Kim sighed again, rolling a pair of black nitrile gloves over his leather ones with a pleasing snap. He gently shifted the cat off the toes of his boots one foot at a time; it went easily, seemingly exhausted by its own outpouring of affection and allowing itself to sink into the carpet like a puddle of fur. It really was a lazy motherfucker. Jean was quite in love with it.

“Excusez-moi.” Kim muttered as he stepped over the liquid pile of cat, purring happily in its heap.

He looked up at Jean as he made his way over, doing a small double-take as he noticed the way Jean was beaming at him.

“What?” His lips quirked up ever so subtly, thankfully taking the taller officer’s grin in good humour.

“Nothing. You’re just cute with animals. Awkward.”

Kim just smiled at him, warmly.  

“I should really get to work.” He said, moving past Jean into the kitchen. “In here, you said?”

“Yep.” Jean followed behind him. He could see that the numerous rotations the cat had made around Kim’s legs had deposited a great deal of soft black fur sticking to the camo. He would help Kim get rid of it all before he got back into his MC. He watched as Kim knelt next to the body, careful to avoid the coagulating puddle of blood that spread outwards on the cheap linoleum floor.

“Have you had a chance to examine the victim?” Kim ran his hand over the chest of the body – it was practically shredded through with bullet wounds. He performed a brief ‘Stations of the Breath’ ritual before resuming his inspection.

“Not extensively, but enough to see all of this.” Jean gestured to the wounds and the endless shards of glass spanning the ground. “Looks like he was shot through the window with an automatic rifle. He fell onto the glass, and some of it is implanted following the initial explosion of the window shattering. Most of, but not all of the blood is from the bullet wounds.”

Kim nodded, inspecting the body more thoroughly. Jean continued.

“He looks to have died around the time that gunshots were reported forty-five minutes ago. Definitely not long enough for his cat to start eating his face.”

Kim wrinkled his nose at that, uttering a small sound of disgust.

“Gross.”

“Not as gross as this mess.”

Kim nodded his head in grim recognition. He dictated notes to Jean as he conducted the examination but couldn’t find anything counter to Jean’s initial conclusions. The cause of death and injuries to the body were easily explained. The reason for this extremely violent murder – not so much. Kim extracted a wallet and driver’s license from the victim’s jeans – not a name or face either of them were familiar with from any ongoing gang related investigations.

“This was overkill.” Kim murmured, righting himself and removing the nitrile gloves. “Far too extreme for a run-of-the-mill civilian.”

“I agree.” Jean nodded. “Since the shots are from outside, and I can see no sign of disturbance inside the apartment, it doesn’t look like a break-in or burglary. I – oh.”

He paused, noticing the slight sneer Kim was wearing as he fought off another allergic tickle, nostrils flared wide. He was wildly unsuccessful, whipping round and into the raised collar of his bomber jacket seconds later with a violent series of sneezes.

“HdDDZT’Tzshieww!! Hgkt’tsh!! ‘TTSCH’uu!!”

The first one burst out of him in angry, dizzying rush of spray through teeth clenched just a moment too late to provide any effective suppression.  The next two he managed to bite down on, barely, shoulders jumping under the pressure. Jean reached out to grab him firmly by the bicep as he shook, threatening to unbalance himself and, heaven forbid, topple down onto or next to the corpse. Though not remarkably loud, the sneezes were forceful and audibly desperate. The smaller man sighed once he was done, and Jean released his arm.

“Bless you!” He offered, a little impressed by the display. He imagined Harry would have jizzed on the spot.

“Ughh, Merci. Désolé.” Kim replied, sniffling and blinking one itching eye shut. A single tear of irritation started a slow descent down his cheek. Jean reached under the frame of Kim’s glasses and swiped it away with his thumb on a whim, before realising he had been petting Beau with that same hand. He felt relieved when Kim didn’t fight him on it, perhaps not even realising his mistake.

“Carry on, detective.”

Jean continued to explain his theory surrounding the murder whilst Kim pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief and tended first to his bleary eyes, then to his twitching, irritated nostrils. The skin on their rims was left slightly pinkened after some uncharacteristically rough manhandling. He must be more allergic than he let on, Jean thought, and began leading the pair of them out of the apartment.

He jumped when in the living room Kim jerked forward with another desperate fit, halting their progression and eliciting a sudden, loud meow from Beau. Said cat watched on with expressionless green eyes from his position stretched out on the sun-warmed carpet as Kim shuddered, sneezing into the hastily raised cover of his elbow.

“Hh’GXTSsshhh!! ‘GXT’Tchieww!! HDd’TZSchh!! ‘TSCH’oo! Ahh, mon dieu.”

These sneezes were particularly viscious, wrenching themselves out of Kim and leaving him bleary-eyed and shaky in the aftermath.

“God, Kim. Bless you.” Jean offered, his hand rubbing absently at the small of the Lieutenant’s back.

“Thang’k you. Let’s go.” Kim said, snuffling into his handkerchief and walking out through the front door without a second to spare. Jean cast a glance at the cat, mewling again as its beloved Lieutenant marched away, and followed him out of the door without a word.

“Hmm. No known or suspected connections to any street gangs or drug cartels. He may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Seen something he shouldn’t have.” Kim offered as they leant against the wall of the building. He blew his nose softly. It didn’t sound at all productive as his sinuses started to swell. “Somebody meant to silence him.”

“Maybe.” Jean took a drag on his cigarette. “But the MO is unlike any of the regular gangs in this area. I mean, a machine gun?? For one unarmed guy, at home? It’s too messy, outlandish and loud – in other words, way too risky.”

Kim nodded and paused for a moment. Jean wondered if he was going to sneeze again, but he spoke up after a beat.

“There…was another murder, a few months ago – on the other side of Jamrock, with fatal injuries confirmed to have been sustained via an automatic rifle. I’ll have to check, but the circumstances are shockingly similar. That victim also had no apparent connections to any gangs, or a previous criminal record.”

Jean made a small noise of recognition. He remembered, now – the case was still ongoing. It had intrigued both Harry and himself, but had been brushed aside as several more inflammatory and pressing cases had arisen. They’d passed it off onto some junior officers that had recently joined the Major Crimes unit, enticed by Harry’s newfound sobriety and the assurance of Kim’s fastidiousness. He would be taking that case right on back.

“That was also a murder in a residential area – some kids say they saw somebody hop a fence but couldn’t give us any more details.”

Kim looked up at him, nodding. He scrawled a couple of notes in his notebook before slipping it back into his pocket.

“We should look into that. It’s not much to go from and the cases appear unrelated, bar these few details but – we can’t afford to write it off. They’re both too irregular.”

Jean put out his cigarette on the wall next to him, ignoring Kim’s look of disapproval.

“Right. I’ll call in to the station and update them.” He looked at his watch in annoyance. “There were supposed to be more officers on the scene twenty minutes ago. Where the fuck are they?”

“Before I left the station earlier it seemed frantic – I think it’s just a particularly bad day.”

Jean grumbled but conceded. The entire reason he had arrived alone and Kim had joined him en route from another crime scene was because Harry was buried with the recent influx of crime on top of the years of unprocessed paperwork. He knew that. To Harry’s credit, he had cut down the latter a significant amount, despite the slow and confusing process of dealing with his memory returning in sporadic and often extremely stressful bursts. Jean was secretly very proud of him, if he even had any right to be.

“We need to get in contact with the victim’s relatives, if any – can you do that?” Kim asked, sounding a little shaky as he finished. Jean turned to watch him shudder into a fairly rapid-fire quadruple of sneezes.

“hh’dztch-T’zschh-Tschht! Huh-!! AESSCH’uu-!! Merde!”

He had sneezed entirely uncovered and straight out in front of him. Jean pretended not to notice the resultant light aerosol that hung in the air for a fleeting moment, glittering in the late morning sunlight. Kim clapped a hand to his face immediately afterwards as if suddenly remembering he was on public display, sighing into the leather of his glove.

“Bien sûr.” Jean answered. “And bless you, again. You’re starting to sound like I did over summer.”

Kim replaced his hand with his handkerchief, scrubbing at his pink nostrils through the soft cotton. He pushed his jostled glasses back up his nose when he was done.

“Thank you. Fucking cat hair.”

Jean smiled and lit another cigarette. It was always delightful to hear the Lieutenant drop an F bomb. He and Harry were clearly rubbing off on him.

“I’ll sort out the family – and once the other chuckle-fucks arrive, we can start questioning witnesses and get the body taken to the morgue.” Jean offered.

“Good. I need to head back to the station and submit some reports – I can relay what we’ve discussed here to Harry.”

“Great.” Jean exhaled heavily, thankful for the soothing rush of nicotine. He’d seen enough dead bodies this week to last anybody a lifetime – Kim probably twice as much. But c’est la vie. There was always another body.

“Can you wait until the cavalry arrives?” Jean asked him. “I know things are fucking batshit insane right now and you’re needed elsewhere but I’d rather not be the only officer here.” He looked pointedly at the surrounding houses and the curious faces lingering in the windows. More pressing than warding off curious bystanders, however, was the very real risk of the murderer returning to the scene and spraying him dead with bullets.

“Of course.” Kim patted his arm. “You should never have been here alone – I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster.”

“Thanks.”

They spent a couple of minutes in companionable silence, interrupted only by another small fit of sneezes from Kim and an emphatic blessing from Jean whilst they listened out for the sound of approaching sirens. Kim sniffled a couple of times while Jean was working on his third cigarette, audibly stuffed up. Jean said nothing. Harry would be fretting over Kim more than enough once he got back to the station, anyway.

“Hopefully the victim has family that can take on the cat.” Kim broke the silence.

Jean beamed at him.

“His collar said his name was ‘Beau’. You sure you don’t want to adopt him?” He smirked around his cigarette.

“Funny.” Kim deadpanned. He was struggling to pronounce his ‘n’s around the congestion.

“Maybe I’ll take him.” Jean teased. “He’s a cutie. And then he can visit you.”

“That would mark both the end of our friendship and my capacity to engage with you on any level beyond professional.”

Jean laughed.

“You’re no fun.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Kim smiled at him, voice low and flirtatious. “Don’t you dare let Harry know that a cat is up for grabs. Contrary to what I let him get away with, I do like being able to breathe through my nose.”

“Something I’ve discovered,” Jean took a drag on his cigarette before continuing. “Is that orgasms are actually pretty effective as a decongestant.” His eyes glittered as he looked over at Kim.

“Good to know.” Kim returned that look with an equally mischievous glance from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “But I think I’ll leave Beau out of this arrangement. Three is already a crowd.”

Jean choked on his latest puff of smoke, laughing and coughing in turn. Kim looked incredibly pleased with himself.

“Compose yourself, officer. This is a crime scene.”

Jean wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of one eye.

“Yes sir.”

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

If We ask According to His Will

You are my friends if you do the things I command you hymeis eimi egō philos ean poieō hos ego entellō hymeis

No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does ouketi Iegō hymeis hoti ho

not know what his master is doing; but I have called you ou oida tis autos kyrios poieō ho de Iegō hymeis

friends, because all that I have heard from my Father I have philos hoti pas hos akouō para ho egō pateē

made known to you. gnōrizō hymeis — John 15:14-15 | Mounce Reverse Interlinear New Testament (MOUNCE) The Mounce Reverse Interlinear™ New Testament (MOUNCE) Copyright © 2011 by William D. Mounce. All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Proverbs 18:24; Amos 3:7; Matthew 12:50; Luke 12:4; John 8:26; John 16:12; John 17:8; Romans 7:15; 1 Corinthians 2:16

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How can I be sure I am praying according to the will of God?

[lemissingmask]

Happy holoween

(31 October is busy art day! Holoween, last day of whumptober and Barnaby Brooks Jr’s birthday!)

[ID: Sketch of the holosquad. Enoch and Ean are walking, Steward is about to start walking, Emil is standing in place with hands in his pocket and Emmett is lying on the floor. All is normal except for that everything from their legs up is pixelated 8-bit style, except for Emmett who is super low resolution and just a few large pixels. End ID]

-

The holos have decided their costumes this year take the form of poor resolution for everything except for their already bewildering and mysterious legs and shoes.

[olivieblake]

I, my dagger, and my teenage canon of Reese Witherspoon films return to chat in reply to asks/reviews/comments in a series of boldly shameless rambles wherein I, Olivie Blake, am not writing. Today's topics include the TWELFTH KNIGHT release (1:21), a brief note on my updated website (8:19), why you shouldn't fixate on the marketability of your art (9:36), and continuing to create when the industry odds feel stacked against you (18:48).

Order TWELFTH KNIGHT here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250884893/twelfthknight TWELFTH KNIGHT B&N exclusive: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/twelfth-knight-alexene-farol-follmuth/1144028604?ean=9781250372628 Endpage art in thumbnail by @littlechmura! https://linktr.ee/littlechmura

[blue-eyed-cutiepatootie]

red knuckles

wc 1800

established destiel, light angst, dean winchester’s birthday

Cas is acting strange.

Cas is always a little odd, but usually Dean loves that about him. And in the last few years they’ve been in a really good place.

Until Dean started noticing Cas coming home with bruises he didn’t have that morning or scrapes he definitely didn’t get from crocheting or working at the library. He’s been coming home from extra pottery classes and immediately jumping in the shower.

And Dean’s glad he’s exploring a new skill. Glad he’s making more friends.

But it feels like he’s hiding something.

keep reading below or on AO3

Cas is always a little odd, but usually Dean loves that about him. And in the last few years they’ve been in a really good place. 

Until Dean started noticing Cas coming home with bruises he didn’t have that morning or scrapes he definitely didn’t get from crocheting or working at the library. He’s been coming home from extra pottery classes and immediately jumping in the shower.

And Dean’s glad he’s exploring a new skill. Glad he’s making more friends. 

But it feels like he’s hiding something. 

Dean notices Cas' red, chafed knuckles as they’re getting ready for bed one night.

He catches Cas' hand. "Hey, what's this? What happened?"

Cas doesn't quite meet his eyes as he simply gets into his side of the bed. He shuts off the light and gets comfortable.

"Oh, I must have just knocked my hand against something. Or maybe it's that new lotion from Sam. It's not as protective as the kind you buy."

Dean softens a bit. "Here, I have some in my drawer," he says, rummaging around for the container. "Aha."

Cas allows Dean to apply the lotion and thanks him with a kiss. They settle in for sleep, Dean pressed against Cas’ front and Cas’ arm curled around Dean. Soon, Dean feels his breathing even out. Once Cas is asleep, he lets the heaviness pull him under, but something still seems off. How do you accidentally knock all of your knuckles red?

In the morning he notices blisters.

“-ean. Dean, it’s your turn!”

Dean looks up from his Fresca at the Catan board, which looks completely different and he has no idea who has what resources and who needs ‘em. Benny, Garth, Ash, and Keven stare at him worriedly. Well, Kevin just stares.

“Sorry, guys. My head’s just not in it tonight.” They usually have a game/movie night on the last Saturday of each month, but two days ago Benny texted and said they were going to move it up to celebrate Dean’s birthday. Dean had protested, saying they didn’t need to rearrange their schedules for him but Benny insisted. So here he is. Cranky and worried, trying not to ruin game night.

With a glance to Benny, Garth decides they should call it and Ash takes the win. Everyone cleans up the game and disperses to get more snacks before reconvening for a movie, Dean’s choice. Benny catches Dean in the kitchen, getting another soda. 

“Dean, I can tell something’s wrong.”

Knowing Benny won’t let him get away with just shrugging it off, Dean explains Cas’ weird behavior. 

“And he’s at another pottery class tonight. He never goes on Saturdays.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Benny squeezes his shoulder.

Dean narrows his eyes, “So you agree, it sounds like something is going on?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that!” Benny steers him back towards the living room where Ash has the menu for The Fellowship of the Ring pulled up. Garth and Kevin are already in the two armchairs so Dean settles in one corner of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to his chest. 

“Here we go!” Ash says as he pushes play and flops onto the other end of the couch next to Benny. “Try to stay awake for this, Dean-o!”

Garth tosses some popcorn at Dean, “Aw this is one of his favorites, no way he’s falling asleep.”

Dean can feel Benny’s eyes bore into the side of his head as he resolutely stares at the opening title sequence. 

“Yeah, it’s not even 8 yet,” Kevin chimes in. Dean doesn’t believe the kid even sleeps at all.

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

As Frodo declares he’ll take the ring to Mordor and the fellowship is assembled, the first disc ends and Ash gets up to change it, Dean stands too. “Guys, thanks for all of this, I really appreciate it, but I’m gonna head home.” 

Everyone starts talking at once.

“Dude, you can’t leave mid-movie!”

“I haven’t even brought out the birthday pie and ice cream!”

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, cher.”

“Bess made an apple pie just for you!”

“C’mon, you’re not that old, yet. Benny’s, like, a thousand years old and he’s running circles around you.” They all glare at Kevin, who still hasn’t looked up from his phone.

Dean looks around the room at his friends and can’t help but think the one person he really wants to spend time with is slipping away.

“Sorry, guys. I’m just in a mood today.” He starts moving towards the door as they all call out goodbyes and happy birthdays. Benny follows him and grabs his elbow before he can close the door and hands him the apple pie.

“Dean, I’m sure everything is fine.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s Cas.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, grimly. “And it’s me.”

Benny lets him close the door.

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

Dean closes the front door a little harder than he should and shrugs his coat off. He's hanging the car keys up when the floorboards creak down the hall. He swings around, hand reaching for his pocket knife, and sees his husband frozen outside the gaming room that hasn't been used since Jack moved out. Lights on. Another voice softly calling Cas' name.

"Cas?"

Cas flounders, running a hand through his hair before wrapping his arms around his middle protectively. Protective from what? Dean tries to settle the fear rolling through him. Surely he imagined the voice.

"You're home early," Cas says, finally. 

"Yeah, I left before- you said you had a class tonight." 

"I did say that-" 

"Why is the light on in there? You never go in there unless Jack or I drag you."

"Dean-" a sneeze interrupts him.

Dean pales. Cas has someone over. Cas is hiding someone. Then, Dean notices the sweat on Cas' skin. His flushed face. 

“Cas,” Dean gulps, “who else is here?”

Cas looks even more guilty. He turns back towards the game room. “Helen, you can come out.” 

A woman who looks vaguely familiar steps out, dressed in dusty overalls and a flannel. Seems Cas has a type. 

Dean desperately tries to make sense of everything. The sneaking. The lying. The woman clearly dressed in work clothes holding a toolbox. Anything could be in there. 

"Dean, you remember Helen from my pottery class?"

He nods, voice lodged in his throat. He remembers hearing about Helen a lot. Cas was at her house just the other day... and last week… because she has a throwing wheel... and they don't have space for one…

“What’s going on?” Dean can hold it together until she leaves. He can. He will. 

Helen glances between the two men, visibly uncomfortable. “I’m gonna-” she gestures toward the front door.

Cas’ eyes jump to her as if he forgot she was there. “Of course, let me-” Cas leads her to the front door. 

Dean stomps into the kitchen while they have a whispered conversation. He puts a new filter in the coffee pot. Opens the jar of decaf coffee. Wishes he still had that bottle of whiskey hidden behind the baking supplies. Scoops probably too much coffee grounds into the filter. Can feel Cas fidgeting in the entryway while he fills up the carafe with water and pours it into the coffee maker. 

“Dean, it’s not what you think.”

He punches the ON button and spins around. 

“Oh? So you haven’t been lying to me and going over to a woman’s house instead of pottery class?” 

“Well, technically-”

“Technically? I’m thinking some pretty dark things here, Cas, so just explain what the hell is going on.”

Dean hasn’t seen Cas look this small since Jack moved out. It takes some of the wind out of his sails. 

“I think you should just come see.”

Cas starts walking to the back of the house. Dean hesitates before following. He reaches the doorway beside Cas and freezes.

“I’ve been working on this for several weeks, mostly at Helen’s so you wouldn’t see. I asked Benny to plan a game night for your birthday so that I could bring everything over and surprise you.”

Dean steps into the old gaming room and takes in Cas’ handiwork. What used to be a mostly empty room with a tv stand and some old bean bag chairs was now a very cozy… study? 

“Benny was supposed to keep you until nine, at least.” Cas says, hovering in the doorway.

Two comfy looking armchairs sit on either side of the window, both with foot rests. A small table sits between them with one of Cas’ plants and some coasters. Two of Cas’ crocheted blankets cover the backs of the chairs. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t really in the party mood.” Dean continues to take in the room. There are two tall bookcases on one side of the room. Deeper shelves for records on the other. Next to that, a record player. 

“Since Jack moved out this room has just been a reminder of what used to be. I wanted to give the space some new life.”

"You did all of this?"

“I brought all of your books and records out of storage. I know you keep your favorites in the living room, but I thought it was a shame to keep everything else shut away. Sam and Eileen bought you this refurbished record player".

Dean turns shining eyes to Cas. “And Helen?”

Cas finally steps inside the room. "Helen also does carpentry. She helped me build all of these shelves."

“So, that’s why you started having all those mystery scratches and bruises.”

Cas nods, “I felt bad misleading you, but I wanted this to be a surprise.”

Relief wells up inside Dean. He’s never been happier to be proved wrong.

"Is this your crochet supplies?" Dean asks, inspecting the last set of shelves.

"I thought it would be nice to have a space we didn't have to tidy or worry about when we have company over or babysit. Mary and Joanna's toys are taking over the living room." Cas pauses, trying to catch Dean’s eyes. “What do you think?”

Dean sinks down into one of the chairs and buries his face in his hands. “I thought you were leaving me.”

Cas takes his face in his calloused hands and gently lifts it, thumbs wiping away tears. “Dean, I’m so sorry.” He pulls Dean into a hug and rubs his back. “I would never.”

“I know. I don’t deserve you.”

“No, but you have me anyway.”

“The room is awesome. I love you.”

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

There are two armchairs, but they’re squeezed into one, giggling as they try not to spill their (decaf) coffee. Dean gently presses a kiss to each of Cas’ red knuckles. Dean gently presses a kiss to each of Cas’ red knuckles. They melt into each other as Like Real People Do by Hozier plays softly across the room.

"I feel bad, we should invite Helen over for dinner to say thank you."

"Yes, and her wife."

A delirious laugh bubbles out of Dean. "And her wife."

[aromanticbaker]

I HAVE A PUBLISHED BOOK!

Please check it out! I will update as it becomes more available!

Thank you everyone for your support!

Edit; more links!

Google - https://books.google.ca/books/about/Thoroughly_Enchanting.html?id=VMwsEQAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y

B&N - https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/thoroughly-enchanting-a-baker/1146481030;jsessionid=346490C809408986EDEE4AB5ABC69A34.prodny_store01-atgap05?ean=2940184748979

Amazon - https://www.amazon.ca/Thoroughly-Enchanting-Witches-Prosperity-Book-ebook/dp/B0DLHZSJ8D?crid=2T0M7H6OZQAVU&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9._HrFr-00To22KHNAozT_tQ.AmcEldYZuQCvS4lZPTw0lGW3vRnHKZaysldtFs6gcq8&dib_tag=se&keywords=book+thoroughly+enchanting&qid=1730920875&sprefix=%2Caps%2C122&sr=8-1

Booktopia - https://www.booktopia.com.au/thoroughly-enchanting-a-baker/book/9781038323576.html

Apple - https://books.apple.com/fr/book/thoroughly-enchanting/id6737490374

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptember 2023, Day 8 

“Don’t come back”

Kicked out | Saying goodbye for the last time | Lashing out 

The Bee’s Whumptember Masterlist

~1030 words

CW: bad caretaker (pretty much a whumper tbh), killing mention, suffocation, shooting people with bows mention

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

“Out,” Caretaker growled, eyes fiery, muscles tensed, arm pointed straight out toward the door. Vigilante stopped short and stared at Caretaker, suddenly not so concerned with screaming and pleading with them to fork over their compound bow.

“I–... What?”

“Out.” Caretaker elaborated. “Get out. Go away, hasta la vista, I’m pointing at the door, go to it and use it to go away and never come back.”

“There’s no need to be so… rude…” Vigilante trailed off, realizing this probably wasn't the best time to be snarky. Even though Caretaker didn’t really seem to get that memo. 

Caretaker couldn’t really be saying… could they? “Never come back?... Caretaker, you're overreacting, lets just–"

"NO, VIGIL!" Caretaker yelled, throwing their hands down and storming over to Vigilante, practically backing them up against the wall as they scrambled to get away from their enraged, superpowered friend. “You don’t tell me that I’m overreacting, you do NOT get to tell me that I’m overreacting!”

They whirled around suddenly, stumbling over their words as they tried to form a coherent sentence, before giving up and letting out a loud angry curse to the heavens. They stamped their foot on the ground like a toddler having a temper tantrum and left a cracking dent in the lacquered wood floor.

Vigilante felt the color drain from their face as they stared wide-eyed at the dent. Caretaker whirled around again with a new righteous fury and Vigilante stumbled back into the wall, breath hitching. They couldn’t take their eyes off Caretaker, but they so badly wanted to just look down in submission. To apologize for what they’d done.

“Vigil, we had a deal,” Caretaker growled. Their voice was dangerously calm as Vigilante shook and cowered against the wall. “You apologize to all the people you hurt, the families of the people you killed with that damn bow.” Caretaker took a step toward them with gritted teeth and thundery eyes. “And you’d never use that thing again. You promised me. You promised them.”

Vigilante let out a small squeak as their throat struggled to work up a response. “I-I-I didn’t me-ean to–”

“I let you stay here because you promised that. You promised me.” Caretaker's voice broke, tears sparkly faintly on the edges of their eyes. “I wanted to be the person I needed when I was at my lowest, for you, because I didn’t have anyone like that.”

Vigilante tensely held their hands in front of their chest, wet eyes wide and unblinking. “Ca-aretaker, I’m so-o-rry-y.”

Caretaker stared at them for a long time before their face slowly morphed back into the mask of unbridled fury. “No, you’re fucking not.” They whispered through gritted teeth. Their eyes narrowed, their muscles practically shaking. “You’re just scared of me.”

Caretaker surged forward, grabbing Vigilante’s lapels and shoving them upward into the wall. Vigilante gasped at the sudden pressure shoving painfully into their chest as they grasped at Caretaker's wrists, struggling for any way to get them off, shaking wildly from the pure voracity of it, deafening white noise filling their entire being as their feet searched desperately for the ground. Their head swam as their breathing stuttered against the crushing pin.

Caretaker pressed even further in response, tightening the collar of Vigilante's shirt suffocatingly around their neck. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t do it again.” They could feel Caretaker’s hot breath misting uncomfortably onto their cheeks. “You wouldn’t sneak out over and over again, you wouldn’t break into the safe and steal the bow back, you wouldn’t go out and get someone killed again and again and again. Over and over and over!”

Caretaker jolted Vigilante and they saw stars. They blinked rapidly, desperately trying to fight off the black slowly consuming their vision. It didn’t work. Their head filled with cotton as it raced away from them at a thousand miles an hour. Was Caretaker actually going to kill them?

“Caretaker–” Vigilante wheezed pleadingly, head lolling backward as they weakly squeezed caretaker’s wrists. “Can’t– I– I ca-an’t–...”

Caretaker dropped Vigilante’s shirt and they collapsed to the floor at Caretaker’s feet, half unconscious and hacking violently into themself. Shivers wracked their body as one hand curled protectively around their throat. 

Caretaker just stared down at them with narrowed eyes. Finally, when Vigilante was just barely hyperventilating and sobbing into the floor, Caretaker spoke again. “You’re out of chances, Vigil. Get out. Don’t come back.”

Vigilante nodded meekly, watching tears slowly drip down and splash onto the hard dark surface they were curled up on. “I’l-l– I’ll le-e-eav-v-ve.”

Caretaker nudged Vigilante toward the door, not quite hard enough to be a kick. Vigilante tipped over onto their side with a small thump, and Caretaker rolled their eyes with a sigh, pinching at the bridge of their nose.

“If I ever see you again, Vigilante, I’ll kill you.” 

Not a threat, just a promise. Vigilante nodded quickly, not meeting Caretaker’s eyes, and Caretaker curtly turned around and walked away deeper into the home. Probably to Vigilante’s room to throw all their stuff out. Or destroy it.

Vigilante laid on the floor, taking deep breaths and willing with all their might for their heart to stop racing, taking in deep gulps of air and rubbing the wet tear tracks from their face. They knew they deserved this. They knew it every time they stole their bow back, every time they saw the arrow buried into the chest of an unsuspecting target, every time they hit the wrong person, every time Caretaker found out and lectured them, saying they knew Vigilante could be better if they just tried, how they would never stop helping until Vigilante could actually, truly help people. And Vigilante would smile up at them with sad tears in their eyes, thankful they had a person who would believe in them when even they couldn't believe in themself.

They would smile because they knew Caretaker would never give up on them.

Now, they just sobbed.

Slowly, Vigilante built up the strength to finally stand up and stumble toward the door. They wrenched it open with a cry, and walked away without looking back

@whumptember

[o-craven-canto]

Ea, Our Second Chance (10b)

10b. Eucytobionta (part 2/3, unicellular diversity)

(Index) (< 10a. Eucytobionta, cell structure) (> 10c. Eucytobionta, biotechnology)

(original link)

« The diversity of microscopic life was, and still is, overwhelming: from day one, each drop of water and grain of sand revealed a bewildering variety of forms. No more than on Earth, of course; don't think for one moment that we fully understood the complexity of our mother world when we left it. We're still making new discoveries from the few experimental models we brought over. Nevertheless, this represented the perfect opportunity to test out the new kind of science we were going to build. » – dean Sofia Torres, Tabula Rasa

I. Kingdom Monokarya (etym. "one kernel"). Unicellular, never colonial. Usually very small (<20 μm); only protonucleus (almost certainly secondary loss of paranuclei; polynucleate kingdoms do not form a clade). Usually flagellate, at least at one stage. Mostly endoparasites, within fluids of multicellular organisms (lymph, hydromuscular liquid); a few intracellular species. Outside of hosts they form capsules highly resistant to dehydration, heat, and radiations. Representative genera: Ankylococcus, Myoecia, Nesokaryon.

II. Kingdom Pogonocyta (etym. "bearded cell"). Unicellular, frequently colonial. Usually have superficial cilia or flagella. Often have two protonuclei, which they exchange in a form of sexuality not synchronous with reproduction (which occurs by fission or sequential fragmentation). Often very large species (commonly >0.1 mm with >20 paranuclei, Titanopogon reaches 8 mm in length); may have structures such as ciliate wheels, funnels, traps, stylets, articulated "jaws", etc. to feed on smaller cells, as well as visual organs and permanent digestive vesicles. Eyespots may have developed from endo-symbiotic unicellular algae. Smaller species may form clonal colonies via incomplete fragmentation, e.g. Petrovella. A few aerial species are known (most within genus Uranocyton). Representative genera: Hekatokaryon, Hylonectes, Nanognathus, Petrovella.

III. Kingdom Ostracophyta (etym. "tile-plant"). Unicellular, rarely colonial. Rigid polyhedral shell, apparently formed by crystalline sulfonamide impregnating the cell net; pseudopodia emerge from gaps, usually regularly placed, sometimes at the vertices of the shell. Macroscopic needleweed ("Hyalophyta", e.g. Arslanophyton). In the colonial forms (e.g. Endolithus), the shells may fuse and trap sediment forming stromatolite-like structures, pseudopodia may connect cell bodies. Usually phototrophs or mixotrophs (= energy from both sunlight and organic matter). All major forms of frostblight (white, purple, mealy, etc.) are ectoparasitic Ostracophyta with invasive root-like pseudopodia, but do not form a single clade. Representative genera: Arslanophyton, Astrapocyton, Endolithus, Phytopachne.

IV. Kingdom Colloplasmi (etym. "glue-form"). Unicellular, almost (?) exclusively colonial. Lobate cells, able to move by circulating cytosol through the lobes. Adhesive cell envelope, apparently rich in glycosyl-sulfonamides, which may form a common matrix for colonies. Sometimes mineral particles are incorporated (origin of Lithobionta?); mushroom-like, coral-like, or grass-like colonies both in water and on land, with specialized fruiting bodies. Often the colonies liquefy or "evaporate" when disturbed or damaged (special toxic cell morph in Ceratoides). Saprotrophs, herbivores, carnivores; unconfirmed case of a Cordyceps-like neural parasite. Representative genera: Ceratoides, Danaë, Eidocarpus, Xanthoplasma.

V. Kingdom Lithobionta (etym. "stone-life"). Multicellular. Forming pumice-like porous mineral structures; "living boulders". Representative genera: Lithobius, Pliniella.

VI. Kingdom Haematophyta* (etym. "blood-plants"). Multicellular. Photosynthetic organisms with zinc-based pigments; "red plants". Representative genera: Corynetes, Hypogaea, Tomophylla, Tribaculum.

VII. Kingdom Fuscophyta (etym. "dark plants"). Multicellular. Photosynthetic organisms, methanogens; "black plants". Representative genera: Cystophyton, Dendrocystis, Nepheloecia.

VIII. Kingdom Enantiozoa (etym. "mirror-animals"). Multicellular. Mostly motile chemoheterotrophs; Ean "animals". Representative genera: Akkadia, Dendrocephalus, Prosopogyrus, Semaphorus.

* Named "Erythrophyta" in other publications. The two names are to be considered synonymous, when defined as "the most exclusive clade including both Maurophytum purpureum and Corynetes corynetes".

– Vikram Jariwala et al., "Preliminary notes on Ean "eukaryote" diversity", Xenobiology Review, 14 (38 AL)

[ddoubleblindd]

Important EaC! Volume 4 Update

FAQ about what happened, publishing wide, and what this means for the future: https://www.patreon.com/posts/109663060

I've been working diligently to reformat and repost the series to publish it wide. We're on Business Day 5 with no word from Amazon. The good news is, I'm finally getting somewhere.

You can pick up the Everyone's a Catgirl! Volume 4 eBook from the following websites: - Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/s/96af42c5a7 - Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/series/everyone-s-a-catgirl - Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/everyones-a-catgirl-volume-4-doubleblind/1146127480?ean=2940186072973 - Smashwords and more: https://books2read.com/u/bPoJZ7

I will be closing Cat Pack and Artist Pack Preorders on 8/9: Volume 4's paperback proof is in the mail to me, and I need a final headcount on coin metal colors and surprise stickers to order. Pick them up in the shop: https://doubleblind.bigcartel.com/

Thank you for your support. Your encouragement, kindness, and generosity have carried us through this horrible week. Please let me know if you have any other questions.

[thatssosussex]

Columbia Day 1- Meghan speaking at the Responsible Digital Future Summit at the Universidad EAN. She talked about how being a mother motivated her even more, to help stop online a harassment, bullying, and the spread of misinformation for children. To also protect her kids, and the generations to come. (8/15/24)

[motivateandinspiretoday]

Book Information: Jon and Jake grew up in a small town in Mississippi where everyone knows everyone. Most everyone in the town went to church on Sunday mornings while they were growing up. When the brothers got older and left town things in the small town began to change. Jon got married and moved back to the small town with his wife and young son. He came back to help out on the family farm. He was enjoying the life with his family. Jake made it big in Las Vegas by working as a casino floor manager. He was living the highlife. One day his boss offered him the chance of a lifetime, but he would have to move back to the small town. This move could be more costly than Jake ever imagined.

Xulon Press (Publisher) https://www.xulonpress.com/bookstore/bookdetail.php?PB_ISBN=9781545608296&HC_ISBN=

Amazon & Kindle https://www.amazon.com/Brothers-Divided-J-W-Worsham-ebook/dp/B071GZ1WPM/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=Brothers+Divided+by+J.W.+Worsham&qid=1555108292&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Barnes and Noble plus Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/brothers-divided-jw-worsham/1126586711?ean=2940157374013

Wal-Mart online https://www.walmart.com/ip/Brothers-Divided-Paperback-9781545608296/715485782?from=/search

iTunes & iBooks https://books.apple.com/us/book/brothers-divided/id1249314331

Better World Books https://www.betterworldbooks.com/product/detail/Brothers-Divided-9781545608296

Books a Million https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Brothers-Divided/J-W-Worsham/9781545608296?id=7902523449839

Bookshop.org https://bookshop.org/p/books/brothers-divided-j-w-worsham/10651535?ean=9781545608296&ref=&source=IndieBound&title=

#BrothersDivided #JWWorsham #Books #Read #reading #faith #family #love #father #mother #motivation #motivational #booktrailer #booksamillion #bookdepository #bookshop #subscribe #like #share #follow #Worsham #tiktok #America #instagram #Facebook #YouTube #twitterX #XX #reddit #Tumblr

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

If We ask According to His Will…

You are my friends if you do the things I command you hymeis eimi egō philos ean poieō hos ego entellō hymeis

No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does ouketi Iegō hymeis hoti ho

not know what his master is doing; but I have called you ou oida tis autos kyrios poieō ho de Iegō hymeis

friends, because all that I have heard from my Father I have philos hoti pas hos akouō para ho egō pateē

made known to you. gnōrizō hymeis — John 15:14-15 | Mounce Reverse Interlinear New Testament (MOUNCE) The Mounce Reverse Interlinear™ New Testament (MOUNCE) Copyright © 2011 by William D. Mounce. All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Proverbs 18:24; Amos 3:7; Matthew 12:50; Luke 12:4; John 8:26; John 16:12; John 17:8; Romans 7:15; 1 Corinthians 2:16

[ardentpoop]

every time sam says something like “my family” referring to d/ean, c/as, b/obby, etc “helped me through that” re: feeling monstrous/evil, especially in relation to the events of s4 - s5 i’m like. “lol. no they didn’t?”

and like tbc i can definitely buy sam feeling that way/reframing things that way because of all the blame he’s been forced to internalized and like, accepting his role in the narrative of abuse that’s being told by the late seasons when this happens (which i feel like it does a couple pf time? i know with jack - maybe also magda?) , but the narrative presents it as True and like. idk. personally my definition of help is not locking someone up and forcing them into a detox that has completely inhumane conditions only to spend the next year berating them but who’s to say.

it is genuinely crazy lol

and right, (most of) the writers were lost in the sauce re: what they wanted the audience to believe about the events of s4-s5 even as those seasons were being written, let alone when they were being re-explored through samndean and jack 8 seasons later. the only way to make sense of sam’s statements about these events (which were unbearably cruel to him specifically; his eternity of torture at lucifer’s hands in the cage was a direct consequence of his mistakes - or his “mistakes”, depending on what we’re talking about - in s4, and no offense but [lucifer voice] tell me, did the punishment fit the crime?) IS by applying the interpretation that sam had to reframe the abuse he suffered to be able to cope with its effects on him at all. I recommend really leaning into this concept because it can help you sympathize with sam and understand his place in the story much more clearly.

[docpiplup]

The Bastard Kings and their families

This is series of posts are complementary to this historical parallels post from the JON SNOW FORTNIGHT EVENT, and it's purpouse to discover the lives of medieval bastard kings, and the following posts are meant to collect portraits of those kings and their close relatives.

In many cases it's difficult to find contemporary art of their period, so some of the portrayals are subsequent.

1) John I of Portugal (1357 – 1433), son of Peter I of Portugal and Teresa Lourenço; with his wife, Philippa of Lancaster (1360 – 1415), daughter of John of Gaunt and his wife Blanche of Lancaster

2) His father, Peter I of Portugal (1320 – 1367), son of Afonso IV of Portugal and his wife Beatrice of Castile

3) His sister, Beatrice of Portugal (c. 1354–1381), daugther of Peter I of Portugal and his wife Inês de Castro

4) His brother, John of Portugal (1352 – c. 1396), son of Peter I of Portugal and his wife Inês de Castro

5) His brother, Ferdinand I of Portugal (1345 – 1383), son of Peter I of Portugal and his wife Constanza Manuel de Villena

6) His sister in law, Leonor Teles de Meneses (c. 1350 – c. 1405), daughter of Martim Afonso Telo de Meneses and his wife Aldonça Eanes de Vasconcelos

7) His niece, Beatrice of Portugal (1373 –c. 1420), daughter of Ferdinand I of Portugal and his wife Leonor Teles de Meneses

8) His niece, Isabella of Portugal (1364–1395), daughter of Ferdinand I of Portugal and an unknown woman

9) His daughter with Philippa of Lancaster, Isabella of Portugal (1397 – 1471)

10) Left:

I. Eleanor of Aragon (1402 – 1445), daughter of Ferdinand I of Aragon and his wife Leonor de Albuquerque; and wife of Edward I of Portugal

II. Isabella of Coimbra (1432 – 1455), daughter of Peter of Portugal and Isabella of Urgell; wife of Afonso V of Portugal

III. Edward I of Portugal (1391 – 1438), son of John I of Portugal and his wife Philippa of Lancaster

IV. John II of Portugal (1455 – 1495), son of Afonso V of Portugal and his wife Isabella of Coimbra

V. Afonso V of Portugal 15 (1432 – 1481), son of Edward I of Portugal and his wife Eleanor of Aragon

Right:

I. Ferdinand of Portugal (1402 – 1443), son of John I of Portugal and his wife Philippa of Lancaster

II. John of Portugal (January 1400 – 1442) son of John I of Portugal and his wife Philippa of Lancaster

III. Peter of Portugal (1392 – 1449), son of John I of Portugal and his wife Philippa of Lancaster

IV. Henry of Portugal (1394 – 1460), son of John I of Portugal and his wife Philippa of Lancaster

Note: In the last picture, the Panel of the Prince or the Infante and the Panel of the Knights from Nuno Gonçalves' St. Vincent Panels, the identity of some of the members of the Royal family it's still discussed, like the man identified as Edward I in the Panel of the Prince is his brother Henry, but we're considering the interpretation of the people of the panel being Afonso V with his parents, wife and heir, and the ones of the Panel of the Knights are Edward I's brothers, although by the time the panels were painted most of them have already died.

[wowowwild]

She just fucking snuck up and kicked him then blew a raspberry and ean away. Queen.

And he's pathetic. I can't believe he becomes her brad. Her dother. He's legit only 7/8 years older than her. She's within a year or two of Franziska. Wild.