#stulle&gut

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Scud knows the second you find out he took your dildo that he’s in so much trouble, he can almost see the burning look in your eyes but that doesn’t matter now. What matters now is that he has it, and he’s alone. He made sure that the walkie was one hundred percent off, cause god forbid everyone on the channel hear him not doing his assignment.

It always made Scud feel so flithy whenever he started to undo his pants, dropping them down around his ankles. At first he couldn’t get the thing to stick, maybe not because it was a fabric fucking chair, so he huffed. There was a half crush box in the corner, Scud snatching it up and ripping it open, placing it flat on the seat. This time, the dildo stuck, and Scud squeezed a shit ton of lube out. You’d be mad about that too, but that didn’t even matter, not with the way Scud easily slipped down the entire cock without even trying, gripping the small table in front of him for balance.

It was the deepest he had ever had a dick inside him, so deep Scud swore that part of it was in his stomach. He lifted himself up and slid back down, little to no resistance anywhere. Scud didn’t waste any time before he was already loudly groaning and shaking the van, bouncing quickly as each thrust hit a sensitive nerve he didn’t even know was there. He grips the edge of the table tightly with one hand, the other wrapping around his tender cock and tearing a cry from his throat, squeezing around his leaky tip.

He could hear your voice in his head, scoffing at him and looking down on him for being such a “dirty little fucking whore.” Oh he wanted to hear your voice so badly, whimpering as he quickened his pace, wet slapping sounding in the small van from where Scud almost dripped lube from his ass, rolling down and smearing across his nuts. He could imagine the way you point it out to him, asking “can you hear how fucking wet you are for me? so eager and ready for me?” God yes, he could hear all of it, almost downright taste it.

His orgasm was burning hot in his gut, and all he could think about was how fucking amazing he felt. He knows better then to go behind your back, and it makes him feel like such a slut when he thinks about how much that just turns him on. His hand speeds up as he continues to jerk himself, whining and stuttering out curses as each jabs to his insides combined with the harsh stroke of his hand, Scud absolutely falls apart. “Fuuck! Oh God yes- fuck, fucking fuck me” He sobs, hips sputtering as he cums everywhere, head thrown back and stull feverishly moving his hand, sloppily bouncing on the dildo.

His ears were ringing, his chest expanded with every heavy pant, and his legs trembled from where they had been totally overworked, thigh muscles tense and straining. Scud almost passed out in the chair, his entire body going limp after a blinding orgasm.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

yes I am very obsessed with Scud yes I did change my blog theme to him and so what he’s my perfect innocent little baby boy he wouldn’t even hurt a fly hes scared of them he would never and could never do any type of wrong in his whole life he’s just my little sassy stoner whatever he’s being accused of I can 1000% guarantee you that he had literally nothing to do with it your honor he wasnt even there

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

© norman-fucking-reedus 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, or adpated to any other platform. You may translate my works with my asked and given consent.

[lost-sunset-canine]

Angeltober 2023 Day 12 - Rite

A Rite aka Ritual with some goat slaughter from an angel itself. The pose took so long to get right, man i swear humanoid bodies are so so wierd to draw sometimes. And yeah lots and lots of gore, but no guts :) I wanted to somewhat do a design of a room where that kind of stull would happen often, tiled floor, fridge with potential left overs, meat hooks, slaughter table with the rest of the goat. Harder than expected to come up with a coherent room, still not perfect btu loads better than an empty room uwu -dairiem

prompt by @ultrainfinitepit

[olgalenski]

Polizeiruf München - Little Boxes

neue Kommissarin I am excited

oh sie fährt mit bahn auf arbeit find ich gut^^

ja die haben alle richtig spaß bei diesem fototermin zu sein man siehts

okay ich freu mich drauf wenn sie ihn Otto nennen darf. also so in 5 folgen oder so

warum können die nicht einfach zu dritt im team sein?

das war jetzt n bisschen ungeil von ihr... like wenn er dich bittet den apfel nicht zu essen weil er misophonie hat und du dann absichtlich laut reinbeißt dann bist du halt schuld wenn er sich weigert dass ihr euch irgendwann mal duzt naja. und bissi dämpfen tut es meine sympathie für dich auch ...

is n studentenjob ich würde sagen der wird bezahlt wie jeder andere studentenjob...

okay und warum hast du ihr gesagt sie soll bügeln gehen?

kannten wir carola schon? ich hör grad zum ersten mal von ihr

ich glaube mein latein war jetzt nicht notwendig um zu verstehen was sangius menstruus heißt aber vllt bilde ich mir das auch ein weil ich latein kann ...

die uni ht nicht eduroam als wlan? is ja langweilig

adsihfösugru dennis

und der rest auch ich liebs

auf der einen seite kann ich verstehen skeptisch gegenüber der polizei zu sein aber dann denk ich mir meine güte kann man das auch weniger anstrengend machen?

aber vllt liegt das daran dass es hier schon eher aus der sicht der polizei ist von daher schon klar dass das so is I guess.

das hättste halt auch schon vor 3 tagen mal sagen können

wieso isst er seine stulle mit messer und gabel?

das getanze in dieser folge gefällt mir

ach mensch cris ihr wart so gut dabei mit dem du und so

der victor kommt mir bekannt vor das stresst mich jetzt wieder menno

das heißt nicht mehr twitter xD

ach man ey

ähm girl

hmm also alles in allem fand ich die folge gut aber einiges daran war so uurgh warum seid ihr alle so

aber ich mag cris und otto und dennis als team da möchste ich bitte ein paar mehr als 6 folgen bekommen danke

[tessiseestheworld]

Wir haben den ersten Tag in Li‘hue sehr müde gestartet da wir beide recht schlecht geschlafen haben da die Betten sehr weich waren und es warm und stickig war.

Wir haben somit unsere Pläne nach Weimea Canyon verschoben und sind entspannt gestartet und führen vormittags zu Kilohana Plantation und liegen durch die kleinen Geschäfte und Kunsaustelljngen auf dem Gelände gelaufen, haben Karamell im Sweet Shoppe probiert und Ewigkeiten in der einen Galerie die Kunst von Rosalie Prussing bewundert.

Danach fuhren wir zu einer kleinen hanging bridge die abseits von allem war in einer kleinen wohn Sackgasse wo nichts los ist außer ein local der sein Auto putze und Gitarrenriffe dazu sang und dachte wir wären nicht mehr da und er wäre alleine. Dort sind wir verblieben und haben dort auf Bänken im Schatten eines Baumes Picknick gemacht und wurden nur dezent von mosquitos gejagt.

Dann fuhren wir also zurück ins Hotel und haben dort Sandwiches gegessen und ein Päuschen gemachten sind auch dort von mosquitos gegessen wurden. Und wenn ich wir sage meine ich mich.

Am Nachmittag liefen wir durch eine Wohngegend von Lihue, versuchten den Loop Walk mit Audio Description beim Kauai Museum aber die Säulen mit der Info und den Audio QR codes Waren sehr unregelmäßig und wir haben nur 2 gefunden und aufgegeben.

Danach gingen wir zum Restaurant Verde, einem Mexikaner der auch vegan / vegetarischen Anbieter. Da hatte ich einen leckeren burrito und dazu bestellten wir nachos die in dem Moment sehr lecker waren, jetzt bräuchte ich aber auch eine Weile erst mal keine mehr.

Den Tag hatte ich noch den Matratzenaufsatz von Noras Matratze genommen damit sie besser schlafen kann und dann wirklich der early start für den Waimea Canyon hike stattfinden kann.

Wir standen früh‘isch auf, und nach dem Frühstück machten wir uns dann auf die Fahrt nach Waimea Canyon. Wir stoppten an ein paar der Scenic view points und bewunderten den Canyon, bis wir dann den Waimea Canyon Trail machten der anstrengender war als der Kalalau Trail aber die Aussicht war wie auch letztes Mal beim Klassen Trip sehr schön. Wir sind oben nicht so lange verblieben wie ich das vielleicht gemacht hätte, aber es war Nora zu crowded. Nach dem Canyon lookout liefen wir zum kleinen Wasserfall der sich darunter befindet, schnucklig unten versteckt und auch ganz gut besucht. Ich hatte meine sketchers entweder zum ersten Mal insgesamt oder seit langem zum wandern an und das war echt sehr viel rutschiger als in den Wander Sandalen. Also was merken wir uns? In wandersandalen wandern auch wenn ich befürchte eine Blase am linken Ballen zu bekommen.

Danach fuhren wir noch mal zur Kilohana Plantation damit Nora etws Kunst kaufen kann und ich einen der Ringe die ich so schön finde und dann ging’s ab zur Siesta ins Hotel zum stulle essen nachdem wir nach dem hike ganz ausgehungert waren. Heute Abend fuhren wir dann einen Ort weiter zu Russels einem veganen Restaurant wo ich einen leckeren beyond Burger mit tempeh bacon hatte und Nora ein japanisches Auberginen Gericht.

Und dann gabs etwas nightmare kitchens, cookies und tequila 😬

Morgen fliegen wir über Honolulu nach Big island und ich kann ein bisschen Lava anstarren.

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Displaced Dolls and Oviducts by Marigo J. Stathis

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/displaced-dolls-and-oviducts-by-marigo-j-stathis/

Displaced Dolls and Oviducts is a heartrending collection of #verse that speaks to the modern’s #woman’s authentic experience, covering ground from the whimsical and mythically virtuous to the solemn and appallingly foul. Deftly woven together are fabrics of topical issues related to vanity, mental health, friendship, family, self-discovery, grief, trauma, survival, and acceptance. Whether from the perspective of a tattoo artist, assault victim, or stranger in a ladies’ room, poems as lyrics of raw truth serve as springboards for connection, celebration, and healing.

Cognitive neuroscientist by day, creative disrupter by night, Marigo Stathis weaponizes the written word to excavate the bones that #women, #families, and societies often bury. She thoroughly enjoys writing about the absurdity and irony of #life. Her work has appeared in 34th Parallel, Abbey, The Baltimore City Paper, The Baltimore Sun, Bear Creek Haiku, Facedown, FanStory, The Keeping Room c/o Minerva Rising Press, Lite Journal of Satire and Creativity, The Loch Raven Review, The Sometimes and several anthologies. Her first #poetry #chapbook, Displaced Dolls and Oviducts, will soon be published by The Finishing Line Press.

PRAISE FOR Displaced Dolls and Oviducts by Marigo J. Stathis

Marigo Stathis’ voice, from bleak and beautiful Baltimore, wakes up our “slapped dreams” stranded on the Ladies’ Room door. There is manna here in her poems for all writers, whether their instruments are pen and paper, copper wires, or gut strings. These compositions in Displaced Dolls and Oviducts conjure their own unique primal rhythm – musicians, take serious note.

–Tori Amos, Singer-songwriter, Composer, Recording Artist

Displaced Dolls and Oviducts takes us on a curated tour through the female soul- branded, cracked, intricately folded, defiantly laughing, and secretly linked up to all the other female souls. The impressions remind me of those bygone instamatic snapshots we shove aside in boxes for years, then stare at for hours with wonder. Evocative work from a wise and compassionate writer.

–Ilya Chaiken, American Film Director, Producer, and Screenwriter, Liberty Kid, The Unlovables, and Margarita Happy Hour

Marigo Stathis’ poems bring us a world informed by her formidable intelligence, rich imagination, and deep heart. To read her work is to feel renewed.

–Nikia Leopold, Art Historian, Author, Poet, Healing with Shadows

Displaced Dolls and Oviducts invites us into the poignant, often difficult world of girls and women who struggle on the “female warrior’s path to self-worth and discovery.” With lyric intelligence, compassion, and humor, these poems bear witness to the complexities of female experience and celebrate feminine quests and rites. To read this collection is to enter into poetic rhythms that pulse like “things of beauty, / with contused cores— / injured fragments, / human origami.” Yet ultimately these poems give hope: “Remember the wings,” the poet admonishes us.

–Marguerite A. Tassi, Professor of Renaissance Literature and Shakespeare,University of Nebraska

Marigo Stathis’ writing is richly thematic, raining clemency on the reader with tight-toned music of compassion and solicitude. There is something more about the splendid collection, splendidly arranged, than can be known: art compresses nature, poetry suffers with the sufferer, or allows the sufferer to suffer with it; perhaps it does so as nothing else can if it doesn’t – and thereby liberates, if just a little.

–Eric Stull, Adjunct Professor of Language, Literature, and Cultural Studies, Bowie State University

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems #women

[certaindreamchopshop]

So...the fact that Starco being romantically canon didn’t actually impact the story at all just makes all the shipping nonsense retroactively pointless. Great. Cool.

[ckneal]

I go back and forth on what it means that the Mark made it impossible for Cain and Dean to die, unless they were killed by someone else who also happened to have the Mark and the First Blade. Yet Michael had neither when he went to square off against Lucifer in Stull Cemetery. Lucifer, who, we know, also had the Mark. 

Are the rules different for archangels? Would an archangel blade be able to kill a bearer of the Mark, and by extension, Amara? Was the apocalypse all along just an indirect, excessively elaborate attempt, on Chuck’s part, to kill his sister?

Or, was Michael predestined to lose? Did Chuck already have a dramatic twist ending in mind---Michael guts Lucifer, only for Lucifer to jolt back to life and finish him off in turn? Then the real showdown becomes Cain, standing up on behalf of the earth, against Lucifer? It is worth noting that we have no idea what Cain was up to when apocalypse was underway, and he likely understood what was happening. Did Cain have redemption arch we never got to see? An underdog story, where the father of murder teams up with---I dunno, Metatron, who would have also been hiding out amongst humanity, and the two of them take on the devil himself, knowing that Cain and Lucifer are respectively the only people who can kill each other? 

I know that these are all details we aren’t supposed to tie to one another and think about, because the writers were just going from season to season, but I can’t help it. As the one person who held all the cards here, Chuck, what were you trying to do? 

[maggot-monger]

fic writer interview

i was tagged by @theoceanismyinkwell — thanks so much!! 

How many works do you have on AO3?

40 (although a few are drabbles...still)

What’s your total AO3 word count?

143 802 :D

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

5 on ao3, but really four because i listed the marvel ones in general MCU and the specific fandom. they are supernatural, what we do in the shadows, downton abbey, and thor. HOWEVER i have written for several and either didn’t publish those fics anywhere or posted them to sites before ao3 started and lost track of them lol. i think probably 8-10 total?

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Judges of Character (downton abbey, G) — explorations of george and sybbie’s reactions to thomas’s suicide attempt in s6 (HUGE thanks to @oleander4 for the inspiration for this one!!!)

Thomas Barrow and the Power of Friendship (downton abbey, T) — a series of character/relationship studies revolving around thomas

“Mr Barrow Has The Flu” (downton abbey, G) — daisy’s reaction to thomas’s "illness” in s6

Seize the Crown (what we do in the shadows, E) — uhhhh...indulgent hair pulling kink lol

Second Visitor (downton abbey, G) — daisy visits thomas after the thirsk fiar debacle

dang the downton abbey fandom really treated me well with kudos!! <3

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

yes!!! in part i respond because i love comments and i feel like responding to them encourages people to comment more, but mostly i respond because it gives me a chance to talk about the fic! when people pull out stuff i did on purpose to comment on, it’s really exciting to get to give the commenter a little more information about why i did that. and when they pull out something i didn’t even realize i was doing, i want to react to what they said and appreciate having something about my own writing called to my attention. i have probably failed to respond to a comment or two but i really do try and want to respond to all of them :D

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

uhhh probably Passive (thor, G) since it’s an infinity war thor-grieves-loki fic?  

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

i don’t...crossovers don’t particularly appeal to me usually. i don’t often think of ideas for them.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

aaahahaa ok no i have not (fingers crossed for it staying that way!!!) but i DID get a comment on a supernatural fic that was essentially someone going on a strange, aggressive rant about theological justifications for misogyny that were loosely related to the fic in question? that is also the only comment i’ve ever removed from a fic...

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

yee. idk if any particular kind? i don’t really enjoy writing smut tbh but i do sometimes just because i have some idea that i want to express that necessitates some sexy shenanigans. typically when i write smut it’s uhhh odd in one way or another? a bit creepy and/or unsettling? because that’s the vibe i enjoy writing. the weirdness makes it more entertaining for me to write than the sex does :p as a result it’s probably not very hot but you know, whatever lmao

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i’m aware of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!! Human Indulgence (supernatural, T, starring lucifer and lilith in one take on lilith’s corruption) was translated into spanish by Gordafabi. the translation is here!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nah...not saying i wouldn’t, but i like to write alone with my thoughts mostly.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

samifer ✌️sorry about my amazing taste skskskskss

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

gawddd yeah...the thing informally known as the adversary-lawboy tapes is #1 on this list. i have a bunch of snippets of sam n lucifer chit chatting and generally having a weird time in sam’s head throughout s5 and especially in the interval between the “yes” and stull cemetery, but there’s no way i’ll ever actually turn it into anything solid. i’d also love to finish the fic in which gabriel acts like a sickly god and does a bunch of very sketchy things but again, there’s no way i’ll ever do it. RIP. 

fortunately neither of those is public so it doesn’t matter to anyone but me that they’ll stay WIPs forever :p

What are your writing strengths?

characterization, atmosphere/pacing, and pretty little prose stuff. i care a lot about these things and get comments on them so, hurray! (also i think i’m good at a tie-in gut-punch ending on occasion...heh)

What are your writing weaknesses?

i keep not actually writing anything!!! lmao but ok other than that i sometimes try to convey something too complicated without enough explanation. i also often write these really obnoxious sentences that you have to read the end of to understand the beginning...my thoughts are not at all linear lol. i do TRY to fix these things whilst editing but...i’m sure they still happen :/ 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i usually don’t because i assume most readers won’t understand it and i don’t want to make people skip around the page for the translation. i’ll do it if it’s short and is more of an easter egg than a crucial line, or if it’s a quote from something else.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

harry potter

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

you know...maybe “Mr Barrow Has The Flu” (linked above). i feel like i really landed all the emotional beats in that, and did daisy right. i’m also very pleased with Drawn and Quartered (spn, T). there’s another spn fic i wrote during my first pass through the fandom that i think about often but i won’t say what it is because i think about lines in isolation but am not that satisfied with the fic as a whole hahhaha

tagging (extremely optionally!!!) @fandom-space-princess @ophanir @lovetheirloves @venhedish @hotgirlsummersam @bluecookiesforrick @whisperoftheheart925 and anyone else who wants to do this!

[1fast3furious]

Erstes Abendmahl

In Anlehnung an den Werbespruch eines derzeit versagten Kaltgetränks rufe ich hier "Wir wollen Stulle!"

Weil der Geschirrspüler noch nicht das gemacht hatte, wofür er nun mal da ist, wurde heute ausnahmsweise auf Abendbrotbrettchen serviert. Da diese (im Gegensatz zu den fast schon inflationär auftretenden Frühstücksbrettchen) nur schwer zu finden und entsprechend kostbar sind, lassen wir sie meist im Küchensafe und nehmen stattdessen einfach den Handteller. Aber für diesen Blog wird aufgetischt, was da ist!

Zu Stullen mit Frischkäse und geräuchertem Fisch unter Rotebeetemeerrettichaufstrich (hier bitte Obacht und den Aufstrich immer nach oben, sonst ist es Unterstrich) empfehle ich gescheibte Grüngurke.

Zum Nachtisch gab es Bananenquark. Hierfür einfach reife Bananen erst schälen und dann mit einer fünfzinkigen Gabel gut quetschen (4 Zinken gehen auch) und anschließend den Quark unterheben. Fertig.

[official-die-hauptstadt]

Hab gerade herausgefunden, dass Stulle kein einheitlicher begriff ist, bin wahrhaftig gutted

[helianthus21]

heli pls omg for the prompts, number 1 ily

And also pls 32, because i LOVE your writing and all those prompts are so great i can’t choose only one!         

💜I combined them, hope you enjoy💜  ~1,4k

Even as a chained-up, shivering mess, Cas is still adamant about helping them. No matter how often Dean tells him to just concentrate on not dying from the attack dog spell, he won’t accept the confinement to bed Dean wants to impose on him. The fact that this renders Dean a distracted, worrying mess be damned. Out of the corners of his eyes, he keeps checking Cas for any signs of the curse worsening every now and again. 

Sam’s already gone out to follow a lead half an hour ago while Dean insisted on staying in the Bunker to keep an eye on their patient. If something happened to Cas and he wasn’t there, he would never forgive himself. 

Cas has been staring at nothing for such a long time that a jolt goes through Dean almost the same time as Cas startles out of his seat. 

“Hey, buddy, you alright?” Dean asks, momentarily stuck to his chair by the shock, fingers freezing in place over the keyboard of his laptop. 

But Cas doesn’t answer. Instead, his body jerks again once, twice, until Dean realizes what he’s doing.

He’s fighting against the hold of his handcuffs. 

They’re angel-proof. So it comes as a shock to Dean when the angel actually succeeds.

Metal of the cuffs broken in half, Cas stands hunched over his side of the table, as Dean regains his marbles and approaches him carefully.

“Cas, hey,” he says in the most non-threatening voice he can manage. “It’s alright. Let me-”

But Cas looks up then, the usual deep blue of his eyes giving way to blood red, and veins standing out prominently on his face. Shit, he looks terrible.

“Are you in there, bud?” Slowly, Dean reaches out a hand.

A dreadful mistake.

The moment his hand nears Cas’ shoulder, the angel launches at him, hissing like an angered predator and throws Dean over the table. 

Dean protects his head during the fall, but his back still gets the brunt of it, and it takes him precious few seconds to put himself up again with a grunt, muscles aching. It gives Cas enough time to go after him. 

Dragging a chair between them as a weak barrier, Dean tries to reach his friend. “Cas, please,” he begs. “I know you’re in there. It’s the curse. Fight this!” 

Eyes crazed and red, Cas tilts his head at him as though trying to understand. As though Dean was speaking in a language that needed deciphering.

The confusion only holds him back for a moment. In the next, the chair between them goes flying, and Cas is up in Dean’s face again, fist twisting the fabric of Dean’s shirt. 

“Cas, look at me!” Dean almost yells. “It’s me. Dean. I’m your best friend. I’m-”

His heart misses a beat as Cas actually pauses mid-strike. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Dean whispers. With a shaking hand he reaches out to lower Cas’ fist away from his face. “There you are. Come back to me, Cas. Please.”

Cas blinks, and a hint of blue shines through the angry redness in his eyes. His grip on Dean loosens, and the more he comes back to his senses, the more Cas seems to crumble.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he says, gaze dropping to the ground in shame.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” insists Dean. He holds out a hand to Cas’ forearm to keep him upright. “That wasn’t you, it was the curse.”

“I hurt you,” Cas rejects Dean’s easy absolution. “I could have killed you.”

“I almost killed you too!” Dean says, voice too loud with emotion. “Don’t think I can just forget that, though you seem to have. I wanted to kill you. You would’ve died by my hands and I wouldn’t even have cared.” 

“But you didn’t,” Cas argues. “Even at your worst, you still didn’t submit to the dark inside you that was tempting you. That takes true strength, Dean.”

“God, even when I try to kill you, you praise me as some kind of national hero.” Putting his arms around Cas, he half-carries him to the little armchair in the corner, a far more comfortable place for him to rest. 

“You have to chain me up again,” Cas urges.

“Cas!” Dean’s irritation is audible in his voice now. “How? You ripped right through the only cuffs that could hold you.” 

Cas swallows, gaze faraway as though he’s already given up. “Take me to the dungeon.”

“No!” Dean protests firmly. “No way I’m putting you there.”

“Dean-”

“I said no, and that’s final!” Dean says. Then, in a much softer tone, he adds, “You’ve broken through the curse just now, you can do it again. Listen, Sam will find Rowena and she’ll lift the curse from you if it’s the last thing she does. Meanwhile you just breathe and look at me.” 

Cas doesn’t react.

“No drifting away, man. Eyes on me,” Dean orders, because that’s a language Cas understands. “You hear me, Cas? Keep your eyes on me.”

Finally, Cas lifts his head again, enough to return Dean’s steady gaze. 

They stare at each other, the only way for Dean to make sure Cas stays with him. Stays himself. 

After a stretch of time Dean cannot measure, Cas falters. “I killed hundreds of you once.” He licks his dry lips. “Thousands.”

Dean frowns. “What?”

“When Naomi tried to condition me,” explains Cas. “She made me kill thousand versions of you to break me. They were very realistic.”

If Cas thought the confession would make Dean turn tail, he missed by a mile. Saddened by the thought of how much Cas had to go through without Dean even knowing, he surges forward to capture Cas in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Cas’ shoulder. 

“Why do you apologize?” Cas sounds incredulous. “I almost killed you, for real, after that.”

Pulling back far enough to look him in the eyes again, Dean strokes a thumb over his sweaty cheek. “You’d never.” He drops his hand, swamped by unbidden memories. “I asked Death to get rid of you. I never even thought about looking for a way to get you back.”

“I drove your brother insane.”

“I never listened to you,” Dean says. “Took you for granted.”

“I lied to you for a whole year.” 

“I only called you when I needed help. I made you into a hammer.”

“I’m the reason you lost Lisa and Ben.”

The mention of their names is like a punch to Dean’s gut. He’d buried this little taste of the apple pie life that was granted to him, this unreachable dream, so deep inside the box with the label Do Not Touch. He never dared to look back. It feels so far away now, after all these years. Like from another lifetime.

Shaking his head, Dean tries to clear away the dark clouds inside his head. “No,” he rasps. “You’re not the reason. I fucked that up all on my own.”

“You deserved a happy life,” Cas says regretfully. “That’s why I didn’t turn to you for help, back then. You seemed so… content. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” Cas laughs dryly, a sad, ugly sound. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t happy,” Dean admits, for the first time to anyone other than himself. “I wasn’t even really content, I…” He shrugs. “Fuck, I’d have jumped at the first chance of getting back into the life. If you’d come to me, I’d-” 

He’d have been so goddamn thrilled. Not happy, not so fresh in mourning for Sam as he had been. But relieved, at the very least.

He can’t say it, but Cas seems to get the meaning of the unspoken words regardless. 

“Me too,” he says, tentatively reaching out to take Dean’s hand in his, as if testing how much he’s allowed. “If… If you had asked me to stay, I would’ve.”

Dean’s head jolts up, the regret of a past ridden with wasted opportunities shining in his eyes. The regret, but also the hope for that something different he’s always been craving, more and more strongly as the years passed.

“When?” Dean asks, breath held in fear and hope and anticipation. “If I had asked you when?”

“After Stull.” Cas shakes his head sadly, as if resigned at his own pitifulness. “Anytime.”

It might be wishful thinking. It might be a trick of the light, but Cas’ eyes seem to clear of the angry redness of the curse, making way for that wonderful, wonderful blue. 

Distantly, he hears the ringing of his phone announcing an incoming call. None of them pays it any mind as they keep staring into each other’s eyes.

“Stay,” Dean asks.

The most beautiful smile lights up Cas’ face, like the sun shining through a clouded sky. 

It’s answer enough, but he still says it aloud. 

“Of course.”

[lifblogs]

Whumptober 2020 No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD “Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

Ecclesiastes 9:5

For the living know that they shall die, But the dead know nothing at all: Neither have them anymore a reward: For their remembrance is forgotten

It was over — their lives, their hurt, their fight. Over. Time to say goodbye, to close the book forever.

But no, no. Castiel couldn’t accept that. He wouldn’t.

They faced the end, in Stull Cemetery, where that fateful day the Winchesters had averted the Apocalypse had taken place a decade ago. It was all going to end here. With God.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel had all been subdued, their blood watering the grass.

Sam and Dean were grunting, groaning, trying to get up. It was no use.

“Sammy!” Dean cried. “Cas!”

Fire burned around them. The last bit of sun slowly slipped below the horizon, leaving them.

They had just seen their last sunset. And maybe it was the world’s last sunset too.

God was done.

And Castiel realized he wasn’t. No, as long as his family was alive, he would never be done. Though Jack was dead, and Castiel was exhausted from the grief and the fight, and still blinded by tears, Sam and Dean remained. His best friends, his lover.

Cas knew what he had to do. And he had to do it quickly.

God was approaching Sam and Dean, who lay opposite Castiel. Their injuries were gushing blood prolifically.

Castiel struggled, voice coming out in a cry through gritted teeth.

He had to save them! If managing to save them was his one, last act, then he’d be okay with that.

They had to know how much he loved them. And he couldn’t fail them, not like he’d failed their son.

Even with his heart ripped to pieces, Castiel still tried.

And he screamed and cried at his defeat when it came upon him.

God walked around Sam and Dean, hands clasped behind his back.

“Which one of you to do in first…” he mused. “Castiel, any preferences?” Castiel shuddered, face scrunched up with hate. “Hmm…” God looked down at them. “Sam’s your best friend, and I know you learned to love him through all the shit I put him through with the demon blood. You two would do anything for each other. But Dean — oh, Dean was my best work. Damning him in Hell, making a stick-up-his-ass angel go and rescue him. Making them work together to stop Lucifer — which, obviously was never supposed to work. I wrote you to the greatest extent of my ability. I made you betray Dean! I brainwashed you, and made you kill him over and over again. I made him angry that you worked with Crowley. I made you leave! Over and over and… well, you get the picture. And then I brought you back. I made you what you are.”

“No, you didn’t,” Castiel said. He was able to speak since he was less hurt than his friends. “You never did. You might have made us, but I would have loved Dean either way. And he would have loved me too. You think this is your universe? You created it — it, and this story — but now we live without you. You think this thing you created between me and Dean is yours? It’s ours. You made us, gave us emotions, and I don’t give a damn that you orchestrated everything. Dean and I — we’re still. Real.

“Always.”

“So Dean first then.”

Castiel knew what he had to do.

“No! No!” he yelled. “Please, you can’t.”

God laughed, turning to him, arms out.

“Look around, buddy. I can do whatever I want! You don’t control me. I made you! You think I care? I could kill you without even blinking.”

“You do care,” Castiel challenged. “Every writer cares. You really want to kill off your favorite characters? You want it all to end in tears?”

“Sometimes death is what needs to happen,” God argued. “That loss can make you understand other loss.”

“And what would be your loss? You’ve destroyed everything else anyway. It didn’t matter to you. But I think we do.”

“Go tell it to someone who cares. Oh wait, the only people you’ve ever cared about are dead! Save for these two lumbering idiots. Now stay quiet!”

God turned from him, hands up, ready to bring down decimation and destruction. Death.

Castiel couldn’t see his family through his tears.

“Take me!” he pleaded, voice cracking, weaker than he wanted it to sound. Gasping around a sob, he breathed out, “Take me instead.”

God laughed again, seeming ready to jump around and clap his hands. He leaned back, and he looked incredibly blissful, to the extent of it being awkward to witness.

“‘Take me instead’? Oh, that’s too good. Oh, mm, Cas. That’s brilliant! Here we are, I killed your son, I’m burning the very ground, Sam and Dean are about to die, and you bargain with me, to give yourself for them. Wow, Cas, I’m touched. I’m astounded. I am in love with this story. And the best part? I’m not even writing this part. I’m going off the seat of my pants, seeing what happens, what you boys end up doing. Do I know the ending?” He shrugged. “I know what I want, but how we get there is up to you.”

He walked over to Castiel, and Sam and Dean were screaming now, NO! endlessly leaving them. Crouching down, he got near Castiel’s face. Cas was breathing hard, shuddering.

“Cas, you stupid son of a bitch!” Dean cried.

“Cas, don’t do this!”

God waved his hand back to them, saying, “Shut up.”

Castiel had expected some form of power to steal their voices, sew their lips shut, take their tongues.

But it’d just been a demand, not a twisting of the way of the universe, not a new reality.

“Castiel!” Dean screamed.

Sam was growling and snarling.

God let Castiel get to his knees, but he restrained him with his hands behind his back. Castiel sniffled as he looked over his injured friends, as he himself bled and hurt. But no physical injury could ever hurt as much as their deaths. He’d let his Grace be cut from him over and over again rather than have them die.

And he’d already felt that pain. With Jack.

The only hope now was to save what was left of his family.

Sam and Dean were allowed to get up, too injured to do much at all. They tried making their way over to him, but they collapsed, holding each other up on elbows or hands.

Dean stared, mouth open. Sam was the same.

“Please,” Dean said.

“You don’t have to do this,” Sam told him. “Not this. Not for us, man.”

“I do. You’re everything to me. So I have to give you everything. Chuck, take me. Take my life. And spare theirs. Your story will end. It’ll be over.”

God smiled, eyes filled with a surety that had Cas’ heart clawing and scraping its way up his throat, while his stomach dropped out to the ground.

Chuck grabbed him by the back of the head. Sam and Dean were still begging, screaming.

“Oh, Cas. What you don’t understand is that it’s already over.”

Before Castiel knew what was happening, an angel blade was plunged into his gut. God drew him close. Sam and Dean were in hysterics, Dean actually getting up, and heading towards God on his injured foot. The blade dug deep. Castiel didn’t even feel the pain. Just saw the looks on Sam and Dean’s faces.

“And you get to die knowing I’m going to kill them anyway.”

The blade was pulled free, and Castiel began to fall.

“NO!”

Sam was sobbing, hard, Dean collapsed by Cas, grabbing his head as Cas fell, just before it hit the ground.

Castiel never felt the touch of his hand. Never saw that Dean was with him.

It was over.

For the living know that they shall die, But the dead know nothing at all: Neither have them anymore a reward: For their remembrance is forgotten

[sciencenewsforstudents]

Valerie Stull begins her mornings with a breakfast shake. She blends peanut butter, cocoa powder, banana, soymilk and flax seeds into it. She also sweetens it with honey and stirs in a little extra protein. That last ingredient is a powder made from ground crickets. Her research has shown that these bugs can be good for the gut.

Stull works at the Global Health Institute. It’s based at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. There she studies the overlap between agriculture, the environment and health. She’s part of an emerging group of researchers who study the impacts of eating insects. There’s a formal name for dining on bugs: entomophagy (En-tuh-MAH-fuh-jee).

About two billion people regularly eat insects. That’s almost one in every four. Most North Americans and Europeans tend to find the idea of entomophagy revolting. Yet even in their parts of the world, bug eating is starting to catch on. That’s especially true when the bugs are downed, as Stull’s are, in a form that doesn’t show their eyes, wings and feet.

Some scientists view edible insects as “mini-livestock.” (Livestock refers to animals that can be farmed.) Compared to raising cattle and more traditional livestock, insects need far less land and water. Bugs also are nutritious. They’re packed with protein, vitamins and minerals. Plus, their outer shells contain chitin (KY-tin) — a source of fiber.

Scientists Say: Microbiome

High-fiber diets help guard against diabetes, heart disease and some types of cancer. Fruits, leafy greens and whole-grain foods all contain fiber. But the human body cannot digest fiber. Instead, fiber’s health benefits come from serving as a food for the beneficial microbes that live in our gut. Those gut germs make up our microbiome (My-kroh-BY-ohm). They include bacteria that can make us ill and others that boost our health.

The helpful crew breaks fiber into small molecules. These compounds can then boost the immune system, control body weight and even influence mood and emotions. Scientists refer to fiber and other parts of the microbes’ diet as prebiotics. That means they feed good gut bacteria.

It’s easy to confuse the terms prebiotic and probiotic. Probiotics are microbes that are good for you. Yogurt and sauerkraut are examples of foods that contain probiotics. Prebiotics, in contrast, are foods that fuel the growth of helpful gut microbes.

Stull wondered if chitin and other fibers in insects might offer health benefits similar to other fibers found in a typical American diet. To find out, she teamed up with Tiffany Weir. She’s a microbiome scientist at Colorado State University in Fort Collins. Breakfasts enriched with crickets changed the ratio of different microbes in the gut, the two now report. And those changes were in a direction that should boost a diner’s health.

The researchers described the results July 17, 2018 in Scientific Reports.

[xylodemon]

Dean/Cas fic: and your sacred stars won't be guiding you (nsfw, 3.8K)

and your sacred stars won’t be guiding you: deancas, 3.8K, nsfw, michael dean, angel dreams

"What if — what if you had your sword?"

+

"Dean, no."

Dean has to push the words out. "I am your sword." He thinks of Stull — the blood in his mouth, the blistering Kansas sun, the dry grass rustling under his knees. Sam saying It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him. Sam going to Hell, losing his soul, his mind. "Your perfect vessel. With me, you'd be stronger than you've ever been."

Michael almost smiles. "Oh, I know what you are."

"If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?"

"Dean," Cas says.

Dean's gut twists. "Can we?"

Blood drips from Michael's ear. "We'd have a chance."

Cas says, "Dean," again and steps closer. Anger snarls his voice. "You can't."

"Lucifer has Sam," Dean says, turning. "He has Jack. I don't have a choice!" The look on Cas' face slides between Dean's ribs like a knife. He tells Michael, "If we do this, it's a one-time deal. I'm in charge. You're the engine, but I'm behind the wheel. Understand?"

Cas fists his hand in Dean's sleeve. "Dean, no."

Michael says, "Alright," and blots at the blood on his face with his sleeve. "If that's how you want to play, I'm game."

A rough, furious noise catches in Cas' throat. He tugs Dean's sleeve again. Dean grabs him by the front of his coat and shuffles them back toward the map table.

"Cas, look. I —"

"Dean, do not do this."

"He'll kill them," Dean says, digging his fingers into Cas' arm. He can't tell which one of them is shaking harder. "He'll kill them, and then he'll come back here and kill us." Death's voice rasps in the back of his mind: and your sacred stars won't be guiding you    . "He'll rip the whole fucking world apart."

Cas snarls out another noise. He snags his hand in Dean's collar and yanks him in for a kiss.

It feels like a fight, all anger and heat, his tongue shoving into Dean's mouth, his teeth catching against Dean's lower lip. Dean's wanted this too long; he can't help the noise he makes, can't stop himself from tugging Cas closer and pushing a hand into his hair.

Behind them, Michael hums something under his breath. It takes Dean a second to recognize it: Bob Seger's "Lucifer."

He says, "I gotta go," because they don't have time. They've never had enough time.

Cas skims his fingers down Dean's throat. "You'll die."

"No, I won't."

"Dean."

Dean closes his eyes. His heart is ticking like a bomb. "If I do, you — meet me on my road. I'll find us a beer and bacon happy hour upstairs.

READ IT AT AO3

[juldem86]

Freiheitsstatue, 9/11, Wall Street

Tatsächlich nur 1,5h warten mit Schleuse und Durchleuchten. Die Fähre ging recht zügig. Vielleicht 10min. Die Wolken wurden immer mehr und die Hochhäuser verschwanden halb darin. Sehr cool anzusehen. Die Freiheitsstatue brauchte ca. 30 Jahre, um so grün zu werden. Unser Ticket galt nicht für die Krone, nur für die Plattform. Aber auch da standen wieder massig Leute, sodass wir uns dafür entschieden, einfach einmal drumherum zu laufen. Hatten ja schließlich erst kurz zuvor einen herausragenden Ausblick und Überblick. Björn wäre am liebsten einfach gegenüber der Skyline sitzen geblieben und hätte das Wolkenspiel beobachtet. Oscar hingegen möchte an den unmöglichsten Stellen laufen, bspw. beim Aussteigen aus dem Boot wenn die Massen kommen - da sind natürlich sämtliche Schnipsel, Blätter, Müll soooo interessant, dass sich überall auch noch gebückt wird. Oder aber mitten auf dem Weg. Früher hab ich solche Leute gehasst, die einfach aus dem nichts stehen bleiben und alle anderen deshalb fast auflaufen. Gut, wenn ich ohne Oscar unterwegs bin, stört mich das immer noch 🙈 War aber überrascht, wie locker die Leute reagiert haben. Im Souvenirshop habe ich erstmal nach dieser affigen Krone geschaut, die alle aufhatten. Auch sofort gefunden und ein Selfie gemacht. Oscar fand das auch witzig, aber als ich ein Bild von ihm mit dem Ding machen wollte, war Schluss mit lustig. Stattdessen gab es eine Fackel, die per Knopfdruck leuchtet. Hatte kurz überlegt, ob es auffallen würde, wenn ich die im Kinderwagen verschwinden lasse, war dann aber doch so ehrlich und ging zur Kasse. Da stand gerade auch Björn, der die Magneten bezahlte. Draußen bemerkte ich, dass Oscar einen Taschenspiegel hat mitgehen lassen. Muss passiert sein als ich Björn die Fackel übergab in dem ganzen Gewühl. Und nein, ich habe sie nicht in den Wagen gelegt, denn ich brauche sowas gar nicht. Einmal fertig gemacht, muss das den ganzen Tag halten. Naja, jetzt haben wir einen und wissen, dass in Souvenirshops selten etwas gesichert ist.🤭 Auf dem Rückweg mit der Fähre haben wir auf Ellis Island (Museum of Immigration) gehalten. Dort sind wir aber nur einmal durch das Erdgeschoss und haben uns danach für die Fähre nach New York angestellt. Das Museum war riiiiiesig und Oscar nicht in Museumslaune. Gut, wenn man so einen Zwerg dabei hat, auf den man alles schieben kann 😂 In New York angekommen, haben wir das erste Mal seit Stunden kurz gesessen. Sind beide ganz schön kaputt, auch wenn wir nicht sooo viel gemacht haben. Aber es schlaucht. Ich meinte dann wir müssen weiter sonst schlafe ich hier ein. Da sich das Wetter gebessert hat und die Sonne auch noch ins Gesicht schien, waren alle Einschlafbedingungen erfüllt 😬 Zuvor war ich eingepackt wie halb Winter. War sehr froh, dass ich meinen dicken Wollpulli dabei hatte, Stirnband und Handschuhe!

Nun gut, wir also weitergezogen Richtung 9/11 Memorial. Das sollte der nächste Halt werden. Gelandet sind wir bei der New Yorker Börse. War aber nicht schlimm, denn dort wollten wir eh noch hin. Was Björn dort fehlte, war der berühmte Bulle. Musste ich erstmal googeln. Heißt Charging Bull. Der wäre von dort aber Richtung U-Bahn gewesen, also schon Nach Hause Weg. Daher erneuter Versuch, Ground Zero zu finden. Wieder vorbei an der Trinity Church und am Broadway (da dachte ich, das wäre nur ein Platz, ist aber auch eine Straße). Ach und gegenüber der Börse ist die Federal Hall. Entgegen des Navis navigiert Björn im Zickzack Kurs und brabbelt wildes Zeugs vor sich her. Irgendwann kam dann mal "hör nicht auf mich ich bin ko". 😂 Trotz gefühlter Umwege haben wir es zum Memorial geschafft. Schon beeindruckend dieses "Loch". Die Namen der Opfer sind in den Rand geprägt. Ins dazugehörige Museum sind wir nicht gegangen. Zum Einen wieder eine lange Schlange, zum Anderen Björns Aussage "ich hab da meine eigene Meinung zu". Wenn man das so ließt, könnte man meinen wir wären voll die Kulturbanausen - gehen überall nur vorbei, aber nirgends rein 🤔 Für uns ist es schon ein Erlebnis viele Stätten und Sehenswürdigkeiten einfach nur so gesehen zu haben. Und wie gesagt, mit kleinem Kind in ewig langen Schlangen ist nicht immer toll. Außerdem waren wir heute ja schon in einer Schlange 😬

Da die Hochhäuser sooooo hoch sind, muss ich den Handywinkel immer sehr steil wählen, um die Häuser halbwegs passabel drauf zu kriegen. Aber auf dem Boden liegen wie beim Cristo in Brasilien musste ich noch nicht.

An jeder Ecke gibt es hier einen Starbucks oder Dunkin Donut. Dennoch haben wir uns heute nur 2 Kaffee geholt. Könnte Claudi nicht passieren 🤭 Was hier am Starbucks besonders ist, sind die Sticker. Auf denen steht der Name und die Bestellung. Sie werden beim Bestellen generiert und dann einfach auf die Becher und das Essen geklebt. Sehr cool.

An unserer Einstiegshaltestelle in Downtown Manhattan befindet sich übrigens gleich das Custom House, das Zollamt. Die Behörden und wichtigen Institutionen sehen bisher alle toll aus. Da könnte Deutschland sich mal etwas abschauen.

Auf dem Rückweg sind wir nochmal einkaufen gegangen. Unser Vorrat reichte zwar noch, aber nur Stulle wollten wir dann doch nicht den ganzen Tag essen (hatten uns nämlich für unterwegs was geschmiert + Tomaten + gekochte Möhren (spuckte Oscar aus 👍) + Apfel). Gab zwischendurch aber trotzdem noch was anderes.🤷‍♀️ Björn hat sich zu seinem Ehrentag einen Broiler (kennt die Worterkennung nicht mal; für Nichtostdeutsche: das ist ein Brathähnchen) gegönnt. Für Oscar gabs Nudeln, den Rest hab ich gegessen. Ach und nachdem Björn gestern noch fragte, ob es hier wohl Quetschis gibt, haben wir sie heute prompt gefunden. Einmal wischen musste ich jetzt noch, da der Boden doch schon sehr klebte, nachdem das ein oder andere unten landete. Dieser Wischmopp, nun ja, hygienisch eher fragwürdig. Nichts zum Auswringen, also per Hand, was bei einem nassen Mopp von gefühlt 10kg und 1000 Fäden nicht so einfach ist. Hab das ganze auch nur einmal halbherzig gemacht, da ich schon da die schwarzen Rastahaare sah, die sich während meines Versuches zu wischen immer mal wieder über den Boden verteilten🙈 Aber er klebt jetzt nicht mehr, also alles gut.

[dermontag]

Öko-Test enttäuscht Veganer Aufschnitt? Ziemlich mies 24.03.2022, 05:58 Uhr Bei jenen, die Tier, Umwelt und vielleicht auch sich selbst schonen wollen, kommt statt Salami vegetarischer Aufschnitt auf die Stulle. Was aber nicht per se eine gute Idee ist, denn viele Produkte fallen im Öko-Test krachend durch. Wer früher auf Vegetarier war, hat das Fleisch einfach weggelassen. Das sieht heute anders aus. Vor allem vegane Produkte boomen. Die gibt es auch als Aufschnitt, etwa als fleischlosen Salami-, Schinkenwurst- oder Mortadellaersatz. Doch nur weil deshalb kein Tier leiden musste, sind die Produkte noch lange nicht gesund, wie "Öko-Test" bedauernd bei einer Untersuchung von 19 veganen Aufschnitten feststellen musste. Zu Preisen zwischen 1,24 und 3,32 Euro pro 100 Gramm. Sechs Produkte tragen ein Bio-Label. Dabei geht die Sache ganz gut los. Alle getesteten Bio-Produkte sind eiweißreich und frei von dem umstrittenen Verdickungsmittel Carrageen. Mit einer Ausnahme enthalten alle konventionellen Wurstersatzprodukte das Verdickungsmittel. Der aus Rotalgen gewonnene Stoff steht in Verdacht, Entzündungen im Darm auszulösen und ist deshalb umstritten. Ein weiterer Kritikpunkt betrifft alle Nicht-Bio-Produkte im Test: Sie helfen dem Geschmack mit dem Zusatz von (natürlichem) Aroma nach. Zu viel Salz, Aroma und Mineralölbestandteile Doch gerade einmal ein Produkt schneidet mit Gesamturteil "gut" ab. Doch leider wird der "Vemondo Veganer Aufschnitt nach Schinkenwurst-Art" von Lidl, vom Hersteller gerade überarbeitet (1,49 Euro). Der "Alnatura Veganer Tofu Aufschnitt Kräuter" bekommt zumindest bei den Inhaltsstoffen ein "gut" (Gesamtergebnis: "befriedigend", 2,07 Euro). Zwei andere Produkte sind ebenfalls "befriedigend" ("Dennree Veganer Aufschnitt auf Weizenbasis Kräuter" und "Wheaty Veganer Bio Aufschnitt Salami Art"). Mehr zum Thema Während alle Wurstersatzprodukte die Sensorikprüfung tadellos bestanden haben, ist in ihrem Beitrag zu einer gesunden Ernährung noch deutlich Luft nach oben. Die meisten Aufschnitte sind mehr oder weniger mit Mineralölbestandteilen verunreinigt. Sie enthalten relativ viele und teils umstrittene Zusatzstoffe, und der Salzgehalt ist aus Sicht der Tester oft übertrieben hoch. Gut zwei Drittel der Produkte im Test enttäuschen mit einem Gesamturteil schlechter als "ausreichend". Um die Aufzählung nicht ausufern zu lassen, beschränken wir uns an dieser Stelle auf die Produkte, welche mit dem Ergebnis "ungenügend" nicht unbedingt aufs Brot sollten. Als da wären: "Mein Veggie Tag Veganer Bio Aufschnitt" von Aldi Nord (1,41 Euro), "Edeka My Veggie Veganer Aufschnitt nach Art Lyoner" (1,24 Euro), "Hobelz Veganer Aufschnitt Pfeffer" von Well Well (1,69 Euro) und "Rewe Beste Wahl Veganer Aufschnitt, Typ Salami" (1,24 Euro). Grund für die miesen Bewertungen waren hier vor allem zum Teil stark erhöhte Mineralölbestandteile in den Produkten.