#nursing careers in germany

[worldswin]

1 Engineer2 Accountant3 Housekeeping / Helper / babysitting4 Teacher 5 Nurse6 Chef7 Driver8 Technician9 Medical services10 Data analytic / software specialty11 call center agent12 consultant13 Business development 14 Marketing ( digital , content writing etc...) 15 Sales 16 IT ( all different category in the field  are required )

[sleepy-fiction]

Filthy, Dirty, Doktor.

-johan liebert x fem!reader

content warning⚠️ nsfw, smut, masturbation + dual masturbation, cream pie, p in v, uncomfortable power dynamics, sadism, manipulation, porn with plot, happy endings hurray

synopsis‼️johan liebert has been missing for three years since his escape. One day, after a blizzard, you come home from your tireless job as a surgeon to find him frozen half to death after crawling into your home through your window. As the months progress with Johan, he enjoys a new cozy life as a wife-like housemate, supporting your career. The issue arrives when you can't stop masturbating to the idea of Johan, and he can't stop himself from listening.

an: this fic came to me in a dream (lie), and it's entirely self-serving. I biased Johan's character off the little rumor that Johan becomes a fisherman in the countryside after his escape and lives peacefully. If you don't like that, then the fic is not for you.

wordcount: 6.3k

You had been living with Johan for quite some time. You remembered that bitter wintery night when a destructive blizzard had struck Düsseldorf. The blizzard was harsh and violent, predicting to reign over country throughout the week. You had just painted your room hours before you learned of it and childishly you left for work as a surgeon, leaving your window open.

When you came home, you were surprised to find a half-frozen, homeless, scruffy man unconscious on your bed. He ws barely breathing when you found him, with icy skin that pierced you for every touch. You jumped into action to help and ended up nursing the entire week. You learned a lot about the stranger and how his beautiful eyes seemed to twinkle in the moonlight. How, despite his predicament, he still was well, manner, and polite. He told you he was an orphan who was unable to cope after he left the foster system. How he was never able to recover and spent much of his adult life homeless. How he was robbed off everything, how he ran into a bad crowd. You were the same age, but your lives were so different.

You couldn't bring yourself to throw him out. Maybe it was because you saved his life. Without him, he truly would've died.

You were gullible the way you invited him to sleep on your couch for the time being. You had just moved to Germany from the United States, and because of this, most of your home was littered with mess and boxes. It wasn't much of a home for him yet, but it was the least you could do.

Over the months, he began to trust you. You helped him gain his strength and fully recover. You were there when he finally shaved his battered face.

He was an angel before, with his proper way of speaking and his gentle tone. But by God. Once that scruff came off his face, your world had changed. He was incredibly beautiful, with sweet blue eyes and pearlescent whispy lashes. His hair was cut and neat, with a perfect nose with pink lips. Your heart practically stopped in your chest that morning he walked in for breakfast.

That became the issue.

No longer was he the scruffy, sweet, homeless man you were sheltering out of the kindness of your heart. He was handsome and alluring. With a face like that, you couldn't help but shut your thighs together and breathe swallowed breaths.

It wasn't like you didn't see him naked before. You were nursing him, and he was too weak to walk on his own when he first got here. You bathed him, you clothed him, you washed his hair day in and day out. You brushed his teeth, you bonded over childhood pains and cried on his shoulder. You spent nights sleeping next to him-- things you could easily do because you weren't attracted to him.

Yes, sure, even before the change, you agreed he had an attractive personality. But could you blame yourself for not liking the giant blonde beard and the long shaggy hair that touched his shoulders?

But now he was all cleaned up, with hair that caressed his ears, splitting down the middle in a breathy swoop.

Every morning before you went to work, Johan would prepare you a nice hearty breakfast. No matter how many times you told him you didn't want him to worry about you, he always said it was the least he could do. And you couldn't really argue with that, you loved the breakfast and you loved his company.

He started unpacking your home, too, while you were working. He understood that you'd be too busy to take care of the house as an on-call surgeon. You remember the day you started seeing clothes and furniture slowly being rearranged. Johan was perfect. Too perfect, it was frightening for you at timed.

Frightening because you started to feel something.

He was someone you didn't want to lose.

But your body craved him.

You remember that day you were in the shower, trying to stop your hands from plummeting deep within your walls, but you couldn't. The way you'd arch and moan out his name as you rocked against your fingers. The embarrassment that fled you when you orgasmed, and even more so having to face Johan at dinner, trying not to seem suspicious as he told you about his day at home.

You remember how after a year of having him, you got so out of control that you couldn't use your fingers anymore. You bought a few toys to play with, and getting them into the house was so hard too.

Knowing Johan, the sweet housemate that he was, he kept trying to put the "groceries" up for you, and you didn't have the strength to tell him the truth. You kept insisting that it was menstruation hygiene, something he didn't want to see. But he kept going on about how he didn't care about that, it's what you needed.

He was so perfect, like a sweet angel.

Luckily, you were able to hide your new purchases in a locked bin under the sink cabinet, and that night, you got to town feeding your itch.

You fantasized about him. He was a perfect housemate. Would he also be perfect and gentle with you in bed? You imagined that bare body from all those years ago shamefully as you rocked back and forth on the dildo you trapped to the side of the tub. It was incredibly uncomfortable for your legs, but you were so out of your mind that you didn't care.

You could imagine those pale hands drumming up your body to your breasts, gentle peppery kisses lining up your nipples and you'd arch even more, sopping wet down below.

You remember facing him again at dinner that night, hearing how he commented on your long-winded showers. You, being too embarrassed, simply told some fab about how it detoxed you after work, and you watched his careful, icy eyes flicker in curiosity. You gulped, and even now, you can hear the chilling words that fell from his lips, "My. Well… Keep taking those showers, doctor. I'm sure you have a lot of pent-up frustrations from work. It's good to wash it all away and… take care of yourself."

Every part of you felt conflicted about his sultry words. Your brain was convinced that somehow he knew about your daily routine, that he knew what you did in the image of him. Your heartfelt odds about the words, was he inviting you? Was he flirting? That pause he had, he bound to have-- What did he mean by that?

His gaze was narrowed down on you like you were prey. And it was in memory of those hunter eyes that you fucked yourself again at the croak of night, slapping a hand over your mouth to stay quiet. Turning the shower on now would be too suspicious, and the bathroom was right next door to his room.

You couldn't believe yourself, your lack of control. It was disgustingly shameful how your brain twisted his innocent, caring words, his innocent caring eyes to fit some sadistic fantasy you were building up of him.

The truth is, Johan, he was deadly aware of your little playtime. He first noticed it when he went to get something from his room while preparing dinner. When you first started masturbating, you were loud, and the bathroom wall was thinner than you could imagine. In his shock, he pressed his ear against the wall and heard the muffled cry of his name.

He twitched in his pants.

The monster in him was salivating. You had tamed him well. He was loyal to you, grateful to you for saving him (a lot at first, he longed to die). The monster in him respected you-- it needed you at times. You were the only thing that made him calm, and this lovely little life of being a housewife was something he couldn't imagine he'd end up loving.

Him? A runaway killer? Finding delight in wearing the aprons you bought for him and gardening your home to look better for the neighborhood. Mowing your lawn, cleaning your home, unboxing all your stuff, and doing laundry. Sweeping and cleaning became his favorite coping mechanism. It made him feel fully in control and fully zen. You'd take him fishing on the weekends, and whatever you caught together, he'd always cook something lovely and aromatic.

He found he loved orchids, especially the blue ones, and he gardened the front of the house with it. He heard from neighbors the compliments about him, how'd they call him your boyfriend or your lover. You weren't any of those things officially, but for some reason, he liked it.

It was stable.

It was serene.

He felt sort of.

Normal.

So when he found out you, his savior, was lustfully touching herself to him every single damn day, he had mixed emotions.

Fear.

That was his first. He was afraid of himself, afraid of the sudden power he was given over you now. Before, he was in your control, meekly like some little wife tending to your every need (despite your protests). He liked it, when he was powerless, the monster never complained. But now, now he's given some authority and control over you. You could do whatever he wanted all for a little sex.

He wasn't that person anymore.

He wasn't a manipulator.

So out of fear, he wouldn't dare to walk near the bathroom under any circumstances. He didn't ask about your day at first, he couldn't keep himself down enough to see you flush like that. To watch you come up with an excuse or try to forget your playing to remember something else that happened in your day. It gave him too much power, and he didn't know how to handle that burning feeling yet.

But. Your beautiful affirmations about him made him feel vulnerable again. What if he trusted that feeling? What if he explored it? What if he let it take control over him just for a second? You always told him that he could trust his body, that his body is "capable of handling every sensation" he experiences.

So maybe.

When Johan passed by your bathroom while you were at work, he couldn't help but freeze. That burning sensation was back, the monster in him clawing at him. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. And that burning continued.

He let his darkest fears hold him for a second. And Johan quickly found himself on his knees shifting through your dirty laundry, pumping his pent-up cock into his fists, moaning like an uncontrollable wild man.

It was then he discovered his second emotion about your playtime wasn't fear after all.

Lust.

Upon his discovery, he never realized how heavy his balls had gotten. He spent three years on the run before finding your home by accident, not once did he ever have the time or energy to release himself. And it was like once he opened those floodgates, he couldn't stop the desire that overtook his body. He felt like a predator, looking for any opportunity to extend himself.

Like that one time, you stumbled into his room drunk after a work outing, confessing your dirty sins to him. It was something you long forgot, and it took him all his strength to trap you in your room so you wouldn't do anything stupid.

But man did he spend that whole night playing with himself, replaying your drunken confession over and over. He was so excited to explore this with you, to hear you apologize in the morning, and for him to segway that into a discussion about sex. So he could communicate how he felt. But when the morning came, and his eagerness budded- you had completely forgotten.

Confidence was his third and final emotion.

Johan knew he was beautiful. How else did he survive all those years in hell? He swindled women, he gained the trust of men. He slaughtered.

Yet he noticed how embarrassed he had become and how skittish and secretive he was about masturbating. It was like he was a teenager all over again, pretending to cook food until you got in the shower and then running to his room to touch himself to your sweet voice. He always finished early so he could clean up and rush back to the food. Developed a system where he'd cook before you got there but didn't assemble anything and kept it all separate, which cost him many pans and extra dishes, but it kept the facade up just so he could wank off like a child.

His favorite thing was the nervous conversation you had with him after your shower, too skittish to look him deep in the eyes. That's when his confidence started pouring in. At dinner, he'd be more challenging, more teasing. He'd "accidentally" stroke his foot up your leg to hear you squirm. He'd make more eye contact than usual, watching you bounce around a bit. He'd stop you right before you'd walk into the bathroom to make small talk while your frustrated eyes struggled against his stare.

You thought you were slick, but you weren't.

And he decided he'd test the waters.

"Doctor, you always take such long showers. It's become a large part of our dinner routine." He smiled innocently and watched his prey tense up like a bunny in the stare of a hawk.

"Ah. Aah… Well, it helps me detox." You panted, keeping your eyes down on your plate.

Checkmate.

You were right where he wanted you.

"My." He made his voice low as he burrowed a stare deep into your eyes, "Well… Keep taking those showers, doctor. I'm sure you have a lot of pent-up frustrations from work. It's good to wash it all away and… take care of yourself."

And you practically fell apart for the rest of the night. He watched your shame confusion and fear plague your face while you helped him watch the dishes. And to be extra harmful, he bothered you all night with conversations and small talk, knowing the frustration and confusion that was uncomfortably building in your body. He forced you up late, chatting with a glass of wine until you had to scurry into your room to retire.

His trap was set.

And just as quickly as you disappeared into your room, he disappeared into his and awaited himself on the bed (that he pushed against that wall this morning), cock in hand. Much like how he planned, you couldn't help yourself, and he couldn't help himself either. It was thrilling, the power placed on his shoulders as he heard your moans finally unmuffled by the streaming shower. His cock was extra twitchy and sensitive that day.

It was the chase and hunt of it all that made this so rewarding.

He played cat and mouse with you all week. Always pushing you, making you feel uncontrollable and weak about your growing desire. He pretended to be sick, too weak for dinner, and paraded around the house without his shirt and in some shorts instead of his usual day wear. He made up some excuse as to why he stayed in his pajamas, it cost him too much energy and he was sweating so much. He watched the guilt that panned over your eyes for looking at him so dirty.

He begged you to watch television with him, saying how lonely he was all day just so he could scoot close to you and trap you in his body. The body that he knew you could not handle. You could cut the tension in that room that night like a knife. And after pushing you to stay up late just like before, he waited, once again, for you to play with yourself:

Johan snuck into his room and laid back on the bed, thrill striking through his body. He laid flat on top of his comforter, his pillow cupping his head forward. He had already prepared by leaving a bottle of lotion next to him. His hands pulled down his shorts, an eerie sense of satisfaction and gratification bubbling in his body. His hand scooped up his hardening member, squeezing it a few times to manage his excitement.

You would be heading to the bathroom any minute now.

His eyes widened.

He reached over and sprayed the scentless balm into his hands, working them from his fingers and to his currently dry muscles. Precum leaked from his reddened head.

He heard your door open and his mouth ran dry. "There she goes." He mutters, unable to fight the way his hands moved before his show began.

You were so easy to push. Johan couldn't stop the moan that bullied from his lips, he was too eager. He couldn't calm himself. His hand pumped himself fast, that cold, devilish glare striking his face once again. He couldn't help the self-serving grin that sliced his face open.

By now you were probably inside the bathroom, fishing for the little toys you always--

His doorknob creaked, and a striking gasp fled his lips.

"Johan I -"

You didn't go to the bathroom.

His eyes flew to you in the dark, as the lights from the hallway cast a shadow over you.

For you, you only wanted to remind him to take his medicine. It was true, you cared for his sickness but also you wanted to see him one last time. So when you creaked open his door, you never would've expected such a sight.

There was Johan, laid back comfortably on his bed, cock in hand, head shot forward, with piercing blue eyes that saw right through you. You clenched on air, frozen in shock. Silence filled the air, and after a second of it, he moaned wistfully. A sound that went straight to your ears and down to your wet pussy.

"Oh my gosh!" You half-screamed. You quickly dove behind the door, shutting yourself back in the hallway. "I'm so sorry!" You cried, hands covering your face.

"I should've knocked!" To your horror, the door opened again, and there stood Johan, his face unreadable, threatening, and bland. He stepped out into the hallway, and you looked into his eyes for reassurance, but nothing was there. Confused, cautious, and anxious, you threw yourself away, hitting the other wall. Your thighs clamped shut, and you clenched again and again on nothing.

What was he thinking? This was scary, this was scaring you.

Your hole clenched around nothing again and again and again, begging to be filled.

"Sorry?" He finally said in that cool, collect monotone. "Oh, doctor. You shouldn't be sorry."

"I caught you uh… M-" Despite being a doctor, even you couldn't say it. It was like saying it would make it all the more real.

"Masturbating? You caught me masturbating? Haha. Why, doctor, I didn't take you to be skittish. It's natural, isn't it? Masturbating? It shows that I am healthy." He said, and boy was he right.

He was just throwing that word around and around everywhere. It took everything in you not to whimper, your pussy beginning to drown in dirty slick. A vicious puddle was ruining your underwear.

"Yes but still I'm so sorry I uh…" You didn't know what to say. You were cornered.

"It was a mistake, wasn't it? You weren't trying to peek at me." He said, his head tilting like a wild hare.

You gulped as guilt bound sickeningly in your chest. You were trying to peek, not at him masturbating you didn't know! You were trying to see him before he went to bed, that's why you didn't knock- it was innocent. "I wasn't." You rushed out without thought.

Innocent?

What were you saying? You were peeking for masturbation fuel. You gulped, guilty your eyes couldn't find his.

"Johan I-"

"What brings you?" He asked so kindly, so calm. It only made you feel worse.

"I wanted to make sure you took medicine for your cold." You whispered, but the sound was too soft.

Checkmate.

You felt him step closer. "What was that?" He asked, a cunning grin slicing about his face once more.

"I said I wanted to give you medicine." You said.

"Medicine? But you don't have anything in your hand?" He said.

Your face dropped in horror, your eyes running to Johan's stare. You couldn't think of anything to say.

And that's when he finally won. His cock hardened like a rock, large and proud, and he didn't care if you saw it.

"Doctor, I think you are lying."

Your knees buckle into each other, rubbing your thighs together like a madman. You couldn't stop dripping, your panties were completely soaked by now, and it only made you feel more horrified of yourself.

"I know what you've been doing." He said, and your gasp was soul-sucking. "Every day you touch yourself to me. And then you pretend to be a normal housemate." He was sharp.

"I didn't mean to--"

"You lie to me at dinner time."

"I'm not trying to -"

"Trying to what? Take advantage of me? You know I have nowhere to go, I can't say no to you. Can't you see the power dynamic here?" His hand lay against the wall next to your head, pinning you to the wall as he leaned close to you. "I am at will to you. If I say no to your advances, I could be out of a home. You want me to stay here forever so you can get your pleasure off it, doctor."

You couldn't help the moans that bubbled out of your body, your hips that rocked uncontrollably, your clit that begged for friction, and your little hole that cried for a stretch. Humiliation bounded tears from your eyes.

He was right.

"Johan I'm so--"

"A-Ah… Haa." He moaned, and wildly your eyes found him again.

His eyes shut.

You glanced down.

He was hard.

You glanced up.

His eyes opened.

Slowly the pieces came together in your mind.

Johan could see your gears turning.

He was toying with you. He was getting off to all of the torture he put you through this past year.

You blinked once.

That asshole.

Before you knew it you crashed your lips onto his angrily, muttering out a string of curses as you wrapped your legs about his waist. "Fuck you, Johan. You're so horrible." You muttered between the kiss, unable to stop your hips that grinning against the bare skin of his waist.

He laughed but you were quick to interrupt it with your tongue. You slipped your muscle deep into the services of his mouth, sliding wild hands into his hair and pulling at it tightly. You lapped and licked at his inside, feeling your pussy burn for attention. His tongue was even quicker to steal yours as he hobbled back into his room, his hands supporting you to him. He turned about and laid you down on the bed, breaking the kiss to pant.

His room was dark, with the only air of light being the moon glow drifting from the window about you. It caught his eyes in a captivating icy loom, and your hips bucked forward in anticipation. Your mouth began to water.

You waited for this for so long. He leaned down and found your mouth again, sucking on your wet muscle, milking an aggressively dirty moan from your confused lips. His hands quickly invaded your space again, and with total carelessness for your well-being, he clawed away your pajama shirt, unbuttoning it tiresomely.

Being a well-respected surgeon you always had respect and might power in your hands. You had lives in your hands, you had to always be in control. But here with Johan, as he brutally pulled your bra up and nipped at your bottom lips, he didn't give you a second to think- no he stole your power right from under your nose. His bullying bites dipped into your neck, licking and slurping at your throat like some sort of wild beast.

His canines dragged harshly against the cost of your throat, his body etching around your life- the life he had planned to take years ago. His penis twitched hard in his pants, feeling his balls get heavier by the second.

He's never had sex like this. Before it was all perfect, he'd pleasure his partner, they'd give him what he wanted. Whether it was money, information, silence, or just to seem normal, it all was painfully forced. Here, he could fully intact his deepest desires to hurt you. For total domination over you but in a safe way.

The paradox of wanting to hurt you but wanting to be safe about it reigned ruler in his mind and coated his brief with serious precum. Look at you, you tamed his monster.

He dipped his tongue from the cup of your collarbone in a lengthy stripe to your chin, feeling his eyes lid as he succumbed to your intoxicatingly confused moans. His mouth parted and sucked on the base of your neck, careless with how his teeth rubbed against your skin. Your mind had shut off, the thoughts of stress that typically plagued your everyday growing deathly quiet. Every part of you agreed that right now you needed his cock so deep inside of you.

You needed him to pleasure himself on you like you were some sort of toy. You arched forward when he finally parted from his barrage of sucking and biting. He leaned up and stared down at you with hunting eyes, his hands reaching and pulling and twisting your poor nipples in his hands.

"Ah! Oohh." You cried in shock, his winding of you was direct and sharp, sending vicious sensations to your drenched hole. His face grew in satisfaction at your frantic sounds, a sadistic giggle trailing from his lips.

"Of course you'd like that. You dirty doctor." He snickered as your eyes looked deep into his belittling glare. You moaned hoarsely at his words, feeling your thighs grind against each other. One of his hands flees from your hand and dives into his shorts again. As you watch breathlessly, he pulls himself out. His cock springs out of its confinement, his penis pulsing with furious veins, his cock head a pungent red as his slick made his member a wet mess.

You moaned egregiously at the sight, your arching back hardening into a locked state. He did all this teasing and he was just as wet as he was. He was just as uncontrollable as you felt. "Johaan." You whined reaching up to touch it.

He swatted your hand away, and punishingly so his other hand pulled your nipple. "I didn't say you could touch. You dont deserve to touch." He hissed as you whimpered out. "You've lost all sorts of manners, haven't you? So wild from all those toys you put up inside you. Does it make you feel better about yourself?" He says in his painful, precise rasp.

You gasp and grunt at his words, feeling your clit pulse and cry out. Your mind was becoming a jumbled mess, your crying sex overtaking your every move. You couldn't take it anymore, and you slipped your hand down your pajama shorts, diving past your underwear to bully your hole. The restricting pressure of your underwear snapping back against your knuckles limited your movement, but your mind was savage.

You plugged your little hole with two fingers, rocking and plunging them hideously.

"A-Aah… Doctor..." You heard Johan suddenly cry. Your eyes flickered up to his and his face was incredibly red. His jaw was slack and his eyes bulged out in surprise. "You're so-ugh wh--" Was all he could say before he leaned his head back, his hand jerking himself furiously. Your orgasm was building harshly at the pretty sight.

"Mngh… Ah!" You cried. There was Johan on top of you, with each leg of his straddled against your side. He stood up above you on his knees. Careless with how he fucked his fists inches away from your face, his body hovering over your stomach. The view from below was ridiculing, and his furious pumps splattered precum all over your face and neck.

"Scheiße!" He cursed, his fapping growing wild, dysregulated, and brisk. He did this as if you were truly nothing to him, like a pornographic magazine that he couldn't get enough up. That he pent himself off so he could cum on the pages. It made you hornier than ever.

Your hole clenched hard around your fingers, your breath stammering si hard your brain had to convince your pussy's vice grip to loosen so you could pummel yourself. "Te-- augh! Tell me ah… Tell me I'm a whore uh-ah-again Johan." You whined, unaware of how saliva drooped pit of the corners of your mouth.

"You're so filthy, d-dirty, doctor. Whore." He gulped, watching his head lean back farther, revealing the peak of his neck and chin. Your orgasm was becoming familiar to you as you arched your hips high forward, plunging your hands faster and faster, matching Johan's rapid pumps.

"J-Johan… Johan!" His name became the only word you knew.

Your voices became a choir of delighted song, the sounds loud and free, and your eyes were privy to soak up all of his beautiful cries. His voice grew raspy and higher for each pump, his orgasm trailing near to yours. You dropped your mouth open wild, your tongue barreling out to catch the wayward fluids flying towards you.

"Ich k-komme, aah Doktor. Komme." He growled out. Your orgasm burst deep onto your fingers at the word, your eyes fleeing back up to the crevices of your head. Your hole wrapping deadly tight against your fleeting fingers.

With a few high sounds from Johan, you blinked out of your high, forcing your eyes open to watch. His head leaned back down to you, his teeth bared and clenched tensely, while his eyebrows folded upwards angelically. His blue eyes peeked out from his daze and found you, tongue out and ready for his disposal. With one final cry, the sight sent him over the edge.

White, hot ropes shot out from him and onto your nose, his hand quickly redirecting his aim to splatter onto your tongue and teeth. He shot heavy, long-winded loads with hard pants, his hands shaking trying to contain his excited high.

With heavy pants, his cock sent its final queue of hot cum and softened slightly. The room was filled with you and Johan's doggish pants, trying to catch our breaths from your ecstasy.

"Johan." You mewled pulling your hand out of yourself. You reached up for him and he buried himself into your arms, digging a whorish needy tongue into your mouth. His body hovered over yours, with his chest slumped against you. You whined into the sloppy kiss, but it didn't last as his wet mouth brushed you on his way down. His forehead leaned into the bed next to you, his bottom flying into the air weakly.

"Scheiße." He mumbled again but it was quieter this time.

Now that the high was running to a close. Humiliation and embarrassment were piercing his pale blue eyes. Instead of cuming deep inside the doctor, the object of his fantasies for months, he got too excited and came all over her. She didn't even get to touch him once. How pitiful had he become since becoming her housewife?

"Johan that was amazing." He heard her sweet voice say. The shame was building as he hid his face in the crook of her neck. Her hands slid up his back to chase him, her dirty slicked-up finger intertwining worriedly into his hair. "Johan? What's wrong sweetheart." You whispered comfortingly, and his heart whined at the sound.

He was becoming too soft, too attached.

He couldn't fight his words.

"I came on you. Not in you." It was humiliating. He was reduced this low. By this woman?

Your eyebrows quirked up with a hearty laugh. "Then cum in me, crybaby."

He blinked.

Crybaby?

Johan slid out of your neck with unreadable eyes and stern brows. You blinked at his stare, one you were quick to identify as his surprise.

Suddenly his face melted into a loving smile, his eyes brewing with butterscotch affection. A cooing laugh fell out of him. Under the twinkling moonlight, he truly did look like an angel. Your breath caught in your lungs. His lips leaned down and kissed you politely, a dance of short bubbly friction. "Alright, my dear. Let me take care of you." He said as his hands nicely gripped your hips, helping you to turn onto your stomach.

What?

What was that? He was a totally different person? An angelic sweetheart, just like the man who cooked every meal for her. The man who unpacked her home and did her laundry so innocently.

You couldn't help but moan in confused eagerness. He lifted your hips to place a pillow under you, propping you up so that you didn't have to arch for him. You gulped and mewled again in confusion, feeling as he guided the rest of your unbuttoned shirt off you.

"Johan," you whined childishly, "I can't take this." You felt your hole clench again on nothing. His behavior was so overwhelming, your pussy began to scream needly.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now." He said, and his tongue innocently and neatly swiped the nape of your neck. He kissed the middle of your bare back gently in reassurance before his gentle fingers slid off your panties and shirts in one long swoop. The air nipped at your exposed sloppy sex, the sight of it making him groan. He grabbed the softness of your ass, giving it a tender grope.

He leaned into your sweetness, pulling your lips apart with each of his thumbs. Peering into your hole, he could see your leaking cum and slick water out of you, dribbling down your folds and onto your messy clit. With a deep inhale he memorized your scent.

"Oh, darling." He sighed wistfully.

You melted like butter into your arms. "Fill me up, please. Sweetheart, I need it." Your voice matched his contagiously charming tone.

"Yes, dear. I will." He let go and you whined at it. You peered back at him while he shuffled out of his shorts, his exposed body being revealed to you once again. He caught you looking as he leaned back dear to you, kissing your lips before lining up his cock to your sweet hole.

"Going in now, alright my dear?" He whispered. His tip kissed you civilly, and the sensation took everything in you not to clench down. Soon the innocent kiss dipped deeper, as a quarter of his length plunged into your cum lubed body. "Aa-ah." He groaned delightfully, choking out the sound as his breath grew heavy. Your eyes rolled back, your jaw falling slack.

"Here's the rest." He hummed as he pressed himself fully inside you, the stretch bonding through your body. He wasn't the girthiest, but his length was piercing. You could feel him snuggly bump your service as you mewled out in sync with him.

"Oh god, Johan." You clenched around his pretty cock, earning a delectable moan from him.

"Darling…" He chuckled, leaning in to pepper your shoulder. Before you could beg for friction, Johan began to move slow tantalizing strokes. The kind you were privy to distract yourself with after a long day. You cried out at the feeling, more heat rising to your flushed face. "I memorized this rhythm to all your moans." You shivered at his hushed words in your ear.

"You're so cr-creepy…" You moaned.

"You like that, don't you? Doctor." He groaned, loosing himself in the pumps. You couldn't say anything against him either. "On good days," His thrusts turned erratic, "You fucked yourself like this- ugh. I always guessed… Mmh. It was cause you were rushing to… See me." He was right. You gasped and cried out.

"Too fast, Johan!" You cried, your gummy walls struggling to adjust to his sudden speed.

"This way is too sloppy." He muttered. Painfully he janked himself out again, causing your body to sputter and arch harshly. "You need something like this." Johan slipped back in again, his cockhead ramming straight into your bladder. You jerked forward with a start, crying out loudly.

His hand laid against the back of your perked head, guiding your face back down into the bed. "Relax, Doktor." He laughed airy. He thrust strongly into you, never failing to hit your sweet spot. His thrusts were tender and precise, each slap of your ass against his hips made him grumble out a groan.

"Johan! Ooh! F-fuuck." You groaned. His cock pumped into your walls, each hit making you leak out sloppily. Your wetness squleched and squleched deep into the night air, the smell of your needy sexes filling the closed room.

The tantalizing strokes numbed your mind, your breath heaving, your saliva building on your parched tongue. You arched your head down deep into the sheets, overstimulating and tickling your pussy wickedly. Your cries were loud, rough, and painfully uneven as the pleasure choked up air in your throat.

Johan's bitter cock twitched and seized under your tight, suffocating walls. Sweat beaded onto his forehead as his body begged for another release. His senses dulled, the sound of your sweet noises and the taste of your lovely pussy around his dick was sinfully extraordinary. His forehead leaned against the fruit of your shoulder, perching himself into the moment as his thrusts grew rapid. He mewled out, bullying nails digging into your hips as he slammed you.

His sounds were lewder than you could ever imagine, his loud moans impregnating your sorry ears. His sounds were growing higher and rasper just like before, and you clenched around him in anticipation.

"Cum inside!" You managed out from between his defilement of you.

He groaned wild and long, shutting his eyes tight. His balls heaved, his teeth clenching shut.

Your pussy sucked and pulled at his sweet cock, delicious wetness scorching his senses with mind fucking pleasure. His thrusts grew sloppy and erratic, his moans weighted. "Komme!" He cried as leaned his head upwards, bucking his hips and delivering his load deep into the breath of your cervix.

His hot cum shot deep inside you, as you mewled out and came all over his angelic cock. Johan panted weakly, slapping his hands down on either side of your head, arching his hips deep down. His shoulders dropped in satisfaction, jaw slacked with a shiver trailing down his body.

Meekly, he slid out of you, his cock whining for the hotness of your insides once more. The mess that spilled out of you was disgusting, as barrels of mixed white cum and slick drooped out of your whorish hole and waterfalls down your folds.

You moaned with a stammer, gripping chunks of the bedsheets.

"Flithy, dirty, doktor." He sighed in content.

And every part of you was satisfied too.

[coochiequeens]

"She lied to a military police officer down by a hospital ship, said she was going to interview nurses about the 'woman’s angle,' and they let her on, because, as she said, no one gave a hoot about the woman’s angle. It served as the perfect forged passport for her," said Somerville. She resorted to those measures because her husband, Ernest Hemingway, tried to take over her journalist career.

This Saturday, June 6, will be the 76th anniversary of D-Day, the battle that would come to represent the beginning of the end of World War II. 

There was just one woman, a war correspondent, on the beaches at Normandy that day the allied forces liberated Western Europe from Nazi Germany: the singular Martha Gellhorn. Author Janet Somerville traces Gellhorn’s extraordinary life in her book Yours, For Probably Always: Martha Gellhorn’s Letters of Love and War.

"Since 1937, Martha had been a war correspondent for Collier’s magazine. She knew about the Allied invasion, that there was a plan to cover the Allied invasion of Normandy, and she was determined to cover that," Somerville said. 

The problem was, her very famous husband at the time, Ernest Hemingway, pulled the rug out from under her professionally.

"Hemingway had gone to New York, introduced himself to her editor at Collier’s and said ‘I’ll be your war correspondent.’ And he took her accreditation papers. Which was a bit of a problem," said Somerville.

Each publication could send just one correspondent. But Gellhorn was resourceful and clever. She found herself passage on a munitions ship from New York that would get her to Europe. She was the only woman and the only civilian aboard that ship, which landed in Liverpool. Then, she just needed to get to Normandy.

"She lied to a military police officer down by a hospital ship, said she was going to interview nurses about the 'woman’s angle,' and they let her on, because, as she said, no one gave a hoot about the woman’s angle. It served as the perfect forged passport for her," said Somerville.

Once on board the hospital ship, Gellhorn locked herself into a bathroom until they sailed. When the ship docked in Normandy, she waded ashore through waist-deep water with some of the medical officers.

"She became the only woman and the only war correspondent to be actually on the beaches at Normandy, evacuating the wounded."

Though she was there as a journalist to write about the event, she couldn’t help but tend to the wounded soldiers. She had an uncanny ability, Somerville says, to focus on what needed to be done. So when she saw that the wounded were hungry and thirsty, she set to work.

"She just took it in her stride and found somebody who could bring teapots to tip into their mouths,if they couldn't hold a glass. She just took charge and made sure that they got something," Somerville said.

She also managed to be one of many correspondents who wrote about D Day.

"The incredible thing about D-Day is that accredited correspondents produced 700,000 words of text, just about D-Day," Somerville said. "Martha was one of them. She had a piece called 'Over and Back' that Collier’s published."

Gellhorn went on to report into her old age, from all corners of the globe. She filed her last piece, about the murdered street children of Salvador, Brazil, more than 50 years after D-Day, when she was 87 years old.

Yours, For Probably Always: Martha Gellhorn’s Letters of Love and War, 1930-1949 by Janet Somerville is available at the link above, or wherever you buy your books.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Jeanne Brousse

Jeanne Brousse was a Frenchwoman and devout Catholic who put her own life at risk to save Jewish families during the Nazi occupation of France.

Born in 1921, Jeanne grew up in a working-class family in Annecy, a charming town in the French Alps. Her mother worked as a maid, and her father, a cheesemaker, was a veteran of World War I who had been gassed by the Germans and suffered lifelong health problems as a result. After helping care for her injured father as a young girl, Jeanne decided to become a nurse and help other suffering patients. She moved to Paris at age 18, to train at a nursing school run by the French Red Cross, however war was declared and she was unable to enroll. Instead she returned to her hometown and became a civil servant in Annecy. In 1941 Jeanne joined the brand-new Refugee Service, an agency of the local government formed to help new arrivals to the region.

In her new position, Jeanne did much more than the job called for. Seeing an immediate need for French Jews to find a safe haven from encroaching Nazi persecution, Jeanne used her contacts in the government and the clergy to find out when deportations of Jews were scheduled so she could warn them and help them flee to safety in Switzerland. Incredibly, Jeanne had never met a single Jew before she decided to devote her life to saving them. She later said, “I felt horrified by the atrocious fate likely to befall all these innocent victims whose only ‘mistake’ was to be born Jewish. I was determined to find solutions so that the greatest number of those who came to me could be saved.”’

Word got out among the Jews of Annecy that Jeanne was an ally. In November 1942, a Jewish woman named Suzanne Aron approached Jeanne with a desperate request. Her husband, Francis Aron, was a reserve officer in the French army who was injured in 1940 and received the Legion of Honor, the highest award given by the French government. When he and his wife were ordered in 1941 to affix a yellow star prominently to their clothing, identifying them as Jews, Francis was furious. He was a decorated war hero who’d given everything to his country, and now he was being persecuted and humiliated by the government he’d sworn to protect and serve? Defiant, Francis refused to wear the yellow star and burnt his identity papers identifying him as Jewish. This impulsive act however did not provide freedom but rather increased danger. Francis’ wife Suzanne had heard about the woman at the Refugee Service who was helping Jews, and she went to Jeanne’s office and begged for help getting false identity papers.

Despite the danger not only to her career but her life, Jeanne immediately created new identity papers for the Arons, giving them the non-Jewish name of “Caron.” If the Nazi occupiers, or the collaborationist French police, discovered that Jeanne was creating fake documents, she would have been sent to a concentration camp, but her moral compass, inspired by her Catholic faith, was stronger than her fear.

Other desperate Jewish families approached Jeanne, and she started providing “survival kits” for each family, consisting of fake identity papers, clothes, food and ration cards. She tapped into her extensive network of friends and colleagues to find safe homes and jobs for the Jewish refugees. Prominent French Rabbi Henri Schilli and his three daughters were among those saved by Jeanne.

As the war dragged on, Jeanne’s rescue activities intensified. As a government employee, she was not subject to curfews and had a coveted “nightpass” which enabled her to move around freely at night. She used this opportunity to distribute anti-Nazi leaflets, and warn young local men who were on the government’s list to be drafted to work in Germany, helping the Nazis. Because of Jeanne’s actions, many young men avoided the labor draft and instead became resistance fighters.

Annecy and the surrounding region were liberated by Allied forces in 1944. Soon after, Jeanne married Jean Brousse, who had also worked with the French resistance. Jeanne had three children, and spent the next three decades focused on her family, not spending much time thinking or talking about her astonishing wartime heroism.

In 1973, Jeanne was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem, partly because of the testimony of Rabbi Schilli. After that, Jeanne began speaking to schoolchildren and other groups about her experiences during the war. She said of herself, “I am not a hero, I am not a lecturer. I am, quite simply, an ordinary woman who lived through extraordinary times.”

Jeanne Brousse died in October 2017 at the age of 96.

For risking her life to save others, we honor Jeanne Brousse as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[adrianicsea]

Hello, I just want to say I'm getting most of my film recs from you. And I was wandering, have you seen any fioms that aren't western that you would recommend. I just don't know where to start. Anyways, have a nice day.

hi!!! that means so much to me— i love sharing the movies i’m passionate about, and it means a lot when people tell me that they check out a movie because of me 🥹

by non-western films, i’m assuming that you mean films not from the US or from western european countries— if that’s not the case, please let me know!!

i actually haven’t seen a ton of non-western movies myself, and that’s something i’d like to address!! but as far as non-western films i HAVE seen and enjoyed, here’s some that i’ve recently seen or ones that are still memorable:

promare— japan, anime, action/scifi. follows the adventures of galo, an enthusiastic member of a team of firefighters facing off against a terrorist group of pyromancers known as the mad burnish. as galo learns more about the mysterious leader of the burnish, lio, galo comes to question the way burnish are treated in society and if lio’s actions are truly in the wrong.

perfect blue— japan, anime, horror/thriller. mima, a retired j-pop idol, is being stalked as she pivots to an acting career. she loses her grip on reality as a series of strange, violent events begin to happen around her, including a vision of her own former idol self.

sweet home- japan, horror. when a film documentary crew sets foot in the mansion of a notorious deceased artist to research and create a tv special about his frescoes, they awake a dormant evil. this movie is notable because its tie-in video game was a direct inspiration for the resident evil series!

noroi: the curse— japan, horror. this is kind of a found footage/mockumentary style film that starts as an exploration of a purported “curse” and the strange events surrounding it, and then escalates to become something absolutely wild and ABSOLUTELY terrifying.

beau travail— france/djibouti, drama/thriller. while this film’s director, claire denis, IS french, she grew up in colonial french africa, and this film as well as many of her others explore west african culture and issues. in beau travail, the disgraced french legion sergeant galoup recounts the tale of his fall from grace and his cardinal sin of betraying one of his own, a beautiful, kind, and noble young cadet named sentain. this film is a loose adaptation of herman melville’s story billy budd, and it also explores the ongoing effects of the french legion’s presence in djibouti!

nosferatu— silent film (made in germany), horror. if you’re interested in learning about film history at all, western or otherwise, you can’t NOT look at the german expressionist movement! this is a classic, quintessential vampire story— in fact, nosferatu was made as a dracula ripoff when the director FW murnau was not permitted to make an ACTUAL film adaptation of dracula.

metropolis— silent film (made in germany), scifi. this is another legendary entry in the german expressionist movement! in a far-off, hyperindustrialized future, the richest people in metropolis live high above the ground, oblivious to the constant, dehumanizing labor and miserable conditions that are endured by the workers living down below. a sweet, naive young boy from the upper levels named freder finds his way down into the guts of the city, and he is awakened to the suffering of his fellow man and begins to agitate for a workers’ revolution. the work and effects in this movie are BEYOND impressive, especially for something that’s nearing 100 years old!!!

good manners— brazil, horror/fantasy with some musical elements. in são paulo, a poor nurse named clara manages to secure a job as a house sitter, nurse, and nanny to a rich single soon-to-be mother named ana. as the two of them begin to fall in love, ana recounts the story of her baby’s father, and reveals that both he and her unborn child are werewolves. this is a gorgeous, sensitive, and original take on the werewolf genre, and the creature effects are amazing!

RRR— india, musical/action/epic. this is kind of a fictional “what-if” scenario about the meeting of two real-life indian revolutionaries. bheem is a man from a tribe living traditionally in the jungles of india; raju is living as one of the only indian members of the occupying british forces, a traitor to his own people. by rights, the two should hate each other— but they meet while cooperating to rescue a child and become best friends instead, neither one aware of their true identities or motives.

zindagi na milegi dobra— india, comedy/road trip movie. three childhood friends meet up to go on an adventure before one of them gets married, and along the way, they each find the courage to do something that they’ve always wanted to do, like skydive or run with the bulls in spain!!

monkey man— india, action. an anonymous young man going only by the name Kid undertakes a years-long revenge quest in order to avenge his family and village, long ago destroyed by a fascist quasi-religious leader. this film has a lot of american influences/people working on it, but given that its director and star dev patel has indian heritage and that the film deals so squarely with indian culture and politics, it felt fair to include it here.

flee— denmark/afghanistan, partially animated, drama/biopic. amin, an openly gay man living in denmark, arrived there as an unaccompanied minor from afghanistan when he was a teenager. using a combination of documentary-style interview footage with amin and animated recreations, flee tells the story of his exodus from his home and of his coming to terms with his identity.

i hope that at least one or two of these sounds interesting to you!! and if you meant something different by non-western (ex ANY non-english film, just films that aren’t from the US), please let me know and i might have some alternate recs for you :)

[lboogie1906]

Sergeant First Class Perry James Henry Watkins (August 20, 1948 - March 13, 1996) was the only openly gay person discharged from the Army with full honors after serving almost two decades. He had to fight for this distinction, suing the Army after being forced out because of his sexual orientation. The case went to the SCOTUS.

He was born in Joplin, Missouri, the son of Ola Watkins, a nurse. He moved with his family as a teenager and attended Tacoma Lincoln High School, where he was open about being gay. He studied dance and won speech tournaments. In August 1967, he was living in Germany where his stepfather was serving in the military when he was drafted and at his initial examination told an Army psychiatrist he was gay. During his induction examination in May 1968, he stated that he was homosexual when asked, but the doctor still categorized him as “qualified for military service”. He did not take any legal action or protest being drafted.

During the Vietnam War, he received his draft summons. He marked “yes” on his inductee questionnaire when asked about “homosexual tendencies.” The Army responded by sending him to a psychiatrist who interrogated him about his sexuality but asked if he had a problem serving his country. He answered, “No problem.” His military career as an openly gay man began in May 1968. He tried to leave the military due to his sexual orientation after hearing that the Army dismissed several white gay peers for that reason. The military denied his’ requests. He surmised that the primary reason for this differential treatment was his race.

That the Army had earlier accepted his sexual orientation early in his career and removed him for it, became the center of his nine-year legal challenge, which was decided in 1990 by the SCOTUS. The Court rejected the Army’s argument and ordered him to be reinstated with back pay, retirement benefits, and retroactive promotion to Sergeant First Class. He was honorably discharged in 1990. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[wachtelspinat]

Hey Wachtel! Please take your time to respond to this and also maybe don't respond to this at all but if it's not too personal or something you would like to not think about at all, can I ask what discipline you decided to go for? People are right to admire you for your art skills but personally you were also always a huge inspiration to me when it comes to studying medicine (especially at an older age) and deciding to forego the artist professional career path. Did you choose surgery after all?

hey! no worries, this is not too personal, also my brief episode of extreme denial after my last exam has passed and i have to get in shape again anyways since i‘m starting as a resident in radiology at the beginning of april 🕺 which was my goal tbh for a long time, at least ever since i took an internship in the field a few years ago. this or nuclear medicine. because not only have these two disciplines a better (not a good, but better) work-life-balance than a lot of others in the medical field, the prospect of getting out of the hospital at one point in the future and working in the ambulant sector (i don‘t think this is a wildly known concept outside of germany and a few other countries, but basically medical care that‘s not provided in hospitals) is more likely achievable than in, for example, surgery. PLUS… i really love working in fields that use medical imaging. and radiation. i‘m massively fascinated by radiation and its effects.

so yeah… i know i once stated that i considered choosing surgery once i became a doctor but my experience as a surgical nurse and on top of that my time there in my elective showed me that this is just something that‘s not going to happen. and i‘m glad i realized that at some point, but on the other hand it wasn‘t that hard of an insight. i‘m done with cutting people open in my life.

thanks for your words and your interest in this, i know it‘s becoming more uncommon with the years to study medicine when you‘re not fresh out of school, esp. in germany with the new entry requirements they implemented a few years ago. i have to be honest, i would not choose to study medicine again if i had the choice now. but i made it, i got through it, and i know the first months will be hard, but i‘m actually really looking forward to working in radiology (and moving, and a bit of change in life)

that‘s it! hope you have a nice day

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (August 9)

On August 9, the Catholic Church remembers St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, also known as St. Edith Stein.

St. Teresa converted from Judaism to Catholicism in the course of her work as a philosopher and later entered the Carmelite Order.

She died in the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz in 1942.

Edith Stein was born on 12 October 1891 – a date that coincided with her family's celebration of Yom Kippur, the Jewish “day of atonement.”

Edith's father died when she was just two years old, and she gave up the practice of her Jewish faith as an adolescent.

As a young woman with profound intellectual gifts, Edith gravitated toward the study of philosophy and became a pupil of the renowned professor Edmund Husserl in 1913.

Through her studies, the non-religious Edith met several Christians whose intellectual and spiritual lives she admired.

After earning her degree with the highest honors from Gottingen University in 1915, she served as a nurse in an Austrian field hospital during World War I.

She returned to academic work in 1916, earning her doctorate after writing a highly-regarded thesis on the phenomenon of empathy.

She remained interested in the idea of religious commitment but had not yet made such a commitment herself.

In 1921, while visiting friends, Edith spent an entire night reading the autobiography of the 16th-century Carmelite nun St. Teresa of Avila.

“When I had finished the book,” she later recalled, “I said to myself: This is the truth.”

She was baptized into the Catholic Church on the first day of January 1922.

Edith intended to join the Carmelites immediately after her conversion but would ultimately have to wait another 11 years before taking this step.

Instead, she taught at a Dominican school and gave numerous public lectures on women's issues.

In 1931, she spent her time writing a study of St. Thomas Aquinas and took a university teaching position in 1932.

In 1933, the rise of Nazism, combined with Edith's Jewish ethnicity, put an end to her teaching career.

After a painful parting with her mother, who did not understand her Christian conversion, she entered a Carmelite convent in 1934, taking the name “Teresa Benedicta of the Cross” as a symbol of her acceptance of suffering.

“I felt,” she wrote, “that those who understood the Cross of Christ should take upon themselves on everybody's behalf.”

She saw it as her vocation “to intercede with God for everyone, but she prayed especially for the Jews of Germany whose tragic fate was becoming clear."

“I ask the Lord to accept my life and my death,” she wrote in 1939, “so that the Lord will be accepted by his people and that his kingdom may come in glory, for the salvation of Germany and the peace of the world.”

After completing her final work, a study of St. John of the Cross entitled “The Science of the Cross,” Teresa Benedicta was arrested along with her sister Rosa (who had also become a Catholic) and the members of her religious community on 7 August 1942.

The arrests came in retaliation against a protest letter by the Dutch Bishops, decrying the Nazi treatment of Jews.

Teresa Benedicta of the Cross died in the concentration camp at Auschwitz on 9 August 1942.

Pope John Paul II beatified her as a martyr on 1 May 1987 and then canonized 11 years later on 11 October 1998.

She is one of the six patron saints of Europe, together with Benedict of Nursia, Cyril and Methodius, Bridget of Sweden, and Catherine of Siena.

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2003 - Number 8 - t.A.T.u. - "Не верь, не бойся"

Boooo. Boooooo! Quite why t.A.T.u attracted such a hostile reception was, in this instance, very little to do with politics and more to do with the attitude of the band and the delegation to Eurovision. They claimed they would easily win. The referred to the Germany representative as a witch and said that she should be nursed rather than entering the contest. They insulted the venue and Latvia. They turned up late, missed rehearsals and generally adopted he most distinctly heelish behaviour that Eurovision had witnessed to date. Even the journalists at press conferences booed them

How much of this was kayfabe or stochastic, psychological warfare, is unknown. But given the political statements of band member Julia Volkova more recently, there's probably less fakery and more genuine arrogance and entitlement about what the delegation did. Just who the hell are they anyway?

Well they're the first, widely known product of Neposedy, a Moscow-based children's music group/stage school with a huge and ever changing roster. They will appear throughout the next ten to fifteen years with some regularity. t.A.T.u are their first spin off-pop sensation aimed at the Western pop market. Consisting of Julia Volkova and Lina Katina, the band already have Europe wise success with an act that plays on lesbian posturing and more disturbingly, a sexualised schoolgirl aesthetic that seems calculated to shock and sell records in equal measure. Their huge, debut single was All the Things She Said, which took all of the above and added rain with a video that got banned from several shows around the world. They are also, almost certainly, Russia's most internationally popular pop music act ever.

Given all this unpleasantness and the problematic nature of the band both before and after Eurovision 2003, why is this a number 8 in my list? Не верь, не бойся (Ne Ver', Ne Boisia/Don't Believe, Don't Fear) is a largely shouted proclamation to not let fear, intimidation and bullying hold you back. A welcome message, but given their behaviour leading up to the final, more than somewhat contradictory. The song itself is propulsive and punky in attitude. It has an urgency that almost every other song in Eurovision typically lacks. Several counties have toyed with sending something this raw and rough before but haven't really committed to it. The chaos would almost certainly have been there without the lack of rehearsal, this is just how the band is. Their previous Europe wide chart success attests to the fact that this sound was contemporary and popular in a way the EBU could only previously have dreamt of.

The band kept going until 2011 despite tensions between the leads. They went to Eurovision once more, playing as an interval act in the first semi-final in Moscow for the 2009 contest. They did eventually split with irreconcilable tensions between Julia and Lena. After that, they both had solo careers, but drifted ever further apart on political issues notably Julia eventually expressing homophobic opinions and Lena doing the opposite and playing the St. Petersburg Queerfest in 2012. Julia survived a serious thyroid cancer in that year which subsequently affected her vocal chords and voice.

In the aftermath of Russia's invasion of Ukraine in 2022, t.A.T.u. reformed to play concerts in Russia and Belarus. They continue to support the Russian government's actions.

I initially wasn't going to include this song in my write-ups. However, there are going to be several more challenging and political songs coming up (not all of which involve Russia). As much as Eurovision strives for harmony, peace and a non-political standpoint, others will strive to use and subvert that idealism for for their own political ends. It's important to note this and look at what's going on underneath the music.

I think it's instructive to see what Russia was up to as far back as 2003. This was the same year that Roman Abramovich bought Chelsea F.C. and the main liberal opposition leader was assassinated in an election year. The use of international competitions and festivals like Eurovision (especially those hosted in countries Russia has a history with like Latvia) is going to be a plank in how Russia plays politics internationally. In Neposedy, there is a production line of appealing pop acts, song-writers, TV production designers who know what they're doing - and they're good at it. In 2003, Russia could play innocent and deny there was any bigger motive at work. Now the purpose is there for all to see.

Rather than flinch, I intend to look steadily

[harpreets]

5 In-Demand Job Opportunities in Germany

Engineering (Mechanical, Electrical, Civil): Germany’s engineering industry is world-class, offering exciting roles with top companies. Engineers here are shaping the future of technology and infrastructure.

Information Technology (Software Development, Data Science): Germany is a tech hub, with many opportunities in IT, from software development to AI and data science, driving digital transformation.

Healthcare Professionals (Doctors, Nurses, Specialists): Germany’s healthcare system is advanced and in need of professionals. There’s a strong demand for doctors, nurses, and medical specialists.

Automotive Industry (Electric Vehicles, R&D): Germany is home to the world’s leading car manufacturers, offering cutting-edge roles in electric vehicle development, design, and research.

Renewable Energy (Environmental Engineering, Sustainability): As a leader in renewable energy, Germany offers positions in environmental science and sustainability, perfect for those passionate about green energy.

But there’s a catch: to land these jobs, you need to know German! 🌍

But here’s the hard truth: if you don’t know German, you won’t survive in these roles. In Germany, most professional environments, especially in top industries, require fluent German for communication, paperwork, and collaboration. Without the language, even the best qualifications might not be enough. Knowing German isn’t just a bonus—it’s essential to thrive and advance in your career.

If you're serious about landing one of these jobs, learning German is your first step. And we’ve got the solution for you: #1 German Language Institute in Faridabad and South Delhi. Start learning today and unlock a world of opportunities!

[venomous-ragno]

you’re a combat medic! i’m deciding on whether i want to enlist and join as a medic since i used to be a nurse! i’m not from germany but how was the process and training for you as a medic in germany?

Would I recommend anyone enlisting?

No. No, I wouldn't.

I can already hear you, "but venomous! You're a soldier too!" Yes, I am, and that's the exact reason why I can say this.

I've yet to meet even one soldier who wasn't looking forward to their contract ending. Not a single one. And I get it. Attending one funeral too many is a burden like no other. The physical strain this career imposes on you is like no other.

But I'm not here to talk saint. Instead I'd like to offer some tips and viewpoints that should help you make a decision not based on a want, but on information and careful consideration.

1. Us soldiers over here call the military the "best and worst employer in the entire country". Why do we call it that? Cause contrary to other countries, Germany's got a fuckton of laws protecting you as the employee. You won't be abandoned when you become unfit for service and you'll be taken care of even after you leave the military. Does your country offer that, op? Before you enlist you should check on what the military will do for you should you no longer be able to work. Pay attention to how your country treats veterans.

2. Be prepared to give up a lot. I'm not talking nail polish and lipstick, but hobbies and future dreams. Ever wanted a pet? No time to take care of one if you'll be spending six months in Irak. Wanna have a fullfilling relationship? People rarely want to date a soldier, and even if they do, the relationship often breaks apart. Your job will always be your number one priority and nothing can change that.

3. Your loved ones will hurt. They'll be confronted with the possibility of you dying. It's a tough pill to swallow, and some might not accept it at all. They may try to talk you out of it, guilt trip you, say and do anything they hope will get you to change your mind. Seen it happen too many times. Enlisting in the military is a choice that affects them too.

4. The mental and physical toll the military takes on you. There's a reason most soldiers leave due to severe PTSD - it comes with the job. Mental health problems run rampant within the military. Training to become a combat medic especially is one of the hardest careers you can pick. If you're a woman you'll have to meet the same standards your male comrades do. Can't keep up? Well that's too damn bad. Your expertise as a nurse will certainly help you here and there, but field medicine ain't to be taken lightly. There's a lot more involved than one might think; I had to study and memorise different chemical, atomic and biological components, in what dosage they negatively affect the human body, which plants are poisonous and which safe to eat? You won't only be studying medicine, but war related stuff as well. It's a lot and it's tough.

5. Do research on what former soldiers have to say about being in the military. Recruiters will tell you what you want to hear, but not what you need to hear. Pay close attention as to why they left the military.

6. The most important one in my opinion: Do not enlist if your country is at war. You'll be nothing but a pawn whose life will be wasted away in some operation that was only given the green light because emotions are running high. Same goes for terrorist attacks and similar. Enlist in times of peace if you must.

7. Make peace with the fact that if when you do enlist, you may not be allowed to do what you dream of doing. Standards for combat medics are high - medical personnell is rare, partly also bc it makes you the prime target for enemies to shoot at. (Guess why medics aren't allowed to wear the red cross anymore--) If you've got any physical weaknesses you might be unfit to become a medic.

8. If you do end up enlisting, do not fuck around with comrades. Trust me when I tell you that any flings and one night stands will be public knowledge. Worse even, you might gain the reputation of being a "mattress" aka someonw who sleeps around. Serious relationships are less problematic, but personally, I'd avoid those too. Break ups can be nasty.

9. Think about your career goals and what you expect of yourself. You can be totally fine with having a lower rank and not wanting to advance at all, but... People tend to equate rank with worth. In other words: If you're low in rank, expect to be treated like shit because of it. Not saying it's an every day thing, but... It happens often. Talking back will get you nowhere. If anything, people will get the impression you're cheeky. And word carries.

10. Be aware that once you're in, you're in. You need to be someone with a strong moral compass and sense of duty to make it. You need to be competitive but capable of teamwork, you need to be reliable, trustworthy, and so so much more that, should you realise this isn't for you after all, there's no going back.

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 6.9

Holidays

Accession Day (Jordan)

Ananda Mahidol Day (Thailand)

Bill and Ted Day

Birsa Munda Shahidi Diwas (Madhya Pradesh; India)

Clothing Poverty Awareness Day (UK)

Community Day (La Rioja, Murcia; Spain)

Coral Triangle Day

Cornflower Day (French Republic)

Denture Day

Donald Duck Day

Feast of the Birth of the White-Breasted Giantess

Filipino-Chinese Friendship Day

Global Maintenance Day

Home Sweet Home Day

International Archives Day

International Batten Disease Awareness Day

International Day of Celtic Art

International Dough Disco Day

La Rioja Day (Spain)

Light Industry Workers’ Day (Former USSR Nations)

Meezer’s Colors Day

Monkey Spank Day

Murcia Day (Spain)

National Cancer Thriver Day

National Earl Day

National Earl Baltes Day

National Helen Day

National Heroes’ Day (Uganda)

National Krewe of Tucks Day

National Long COVID Awareness Day (Canada)

National Meal Prep Day

National Mitchell Day

National Sex Day

National Sex Educator Appreciation Day

National Stripper Appreciation Day

No Apologies Period Day

Profess Your Love Day

Purple People Eater Day

Rockman Day

609 Day

South American Football Day

Toy Industry Day

Traverse Myelitis Awareness Day (UK)

World Accreditation Day

World APS Day (a.k.a. World Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome Day)

Writers’ Rights Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

International Dark ’n Stormy Day

Kraft Cheese Day

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie Day

Independence & Related Days

Flevelt (a.k.a. the Confederation of Flevelt; Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Självstyrelsedagen (Åland Self-Governing Day; Åland)

2nd Sunday in June

Abused Women and Children’s Awareness Day [2nd Sunday]

Bunker Hill Day observed (Massachusetts) [Sunday before 17th]

Canadian Rivers Day (Canada) [2nd Sunday]

Father’s Day (Austria, Belgium) [2nd Sunday]

International Drink Chenin Blanc Days, Day 3 [2nd Sunday]

International Shiatsu Day [2nd Sunday]

LEAF Open Farm Sunday (UK) [2nd Sunday]

Mother’s Day (Luxembourg) [2nd Sunday]

Multicultural American Child Day [2nd Sunday]

National Career Nursing Assistants’ Day [2nd Sunday]

National Children's Day [2nd Sunday]

National Garden Day (Germany) [2nd Sunday]

National Puerto Rican Day [2nd Sunday]

Race Unity Day (a.k.a. Race Amity Day; Baha’i) [2nd Sunday]

Ride the Wind Day [2nd Sunday]

World Pet Memorial Day [2nd Sunday; also 2nd Tuesday]

World Swallowtail Day [2nd Sunday]

Write To Your Father Day [2nd Sunday]

Weekly Holidays beginning June 9 (2nd Full Week)

National Automobile Service Professionals Week (thru 6.15) [Week with 6.12]

National Clay Week (thru 6.15) [2nd Full Week]

National Email Week (thru 6.15) [2nd Full Week]

National Flag Week (thru 6.15) [Week with 6.14]

National Little League Week [2nd Week]

National Pet Wedding Week (thru 6.15) [2nd Full Week]

National Right of Way Professionals Week (thru 6.15) [2nd Full Week]

Festivals Beginning June 9, 2024

Annecy International Animated Film Festival (Annecy, France) [thru 6.15]

Beacon Sloop Club Strawberry Festival (Beacon, New York)

Community-Wide FELStival (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)

International Dairy-Deli-Bake Seminar & Expo (Houston, Texas) [thru 6.11]

Jewish Cultural Festival (Dayton, Ohio)

New England VegFest (Worcester, Massachusetts)

Peabody Awards (Los Angeles, California)

Savor Idaho (Boise, Idaho)

Feast Days

Aidan of Lindisfarne (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America)

Architects of the Middles Ages (Positivist; Saints)

Bathe in Marinara Day (Pastafarian)

Bede (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America)

Cloverfield Dairy Cow (Muppetism)

Columba of Iona (a.k.a. Columbia or Columkille; Celtic Christian) [Poets]

Edmund (Christian; Saint)

Ephrem the Syrian (Roman Catholic Church and Church of England)

George Pérez (Artology)

James Collinson (Artology)

Jim Jones Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Joe Haldeman (Writerism)

José de Anchieta (Christian; Saint)

Jotunheim Day (Pagan)

Liborius (Christian; Saint)

Lord Buddha's Parinirvana (Bhutan)

Michael Ancher (Artology)

Paul Beatty (Writerism)

Pelagia of Antioch (Christian; Virgin and Martyr)

Pieter Jansz. Saenredam (Artology)

Primus and Felician (Christian; Martyrs)

Ralph Goings (Artology)

Remembrance for Sigurd the Dragonslayer (a.k.a. Siegfried; Asatru/Slavic Pagan)

Richard, Bishop of Andria (Christian; Saint)

Robert Indermaur (Artology)

Vesalia (Feast of Vesta; Roman Goddess of the Hearth)

Vincent of Aden (Christian; Martyr)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [33 of 57]

Premieres

Bill of Hare (WB MM Cartoon; 1962)

Cars (Animated Pixar Film; 2006)

The Coo Coo Bird (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1947)

The Crying of Lot 49, by Thomas Pynchon (Novella; 1966)

Dire Straits, by Dire Straits (Album; 1978)

The Empty Chair, by Jeffrey Deaver (Novel; 2000)

Gone in 60 Seconds (Film; 2000)

How Do I Know It’s Sunday (WB MM Cartoon; 1934)

Invisible Touch, by Genesis (Album; 1986)

Jelly-Roll Blues, recorded by Jelly Roll Morton (Song; 1924)

Kids Say th Darnedest Things!, by Art Linkletter (Humor Book; 1958)

Labour of Lust, by Nick Lowe (Album; 1979)

Loki (TV Series; 2021)

Mr. Tambourine Man, recorded by Bob Dylan (Song; 1964)

The Name of the Rose, by Umberto Eco (Novel; US Translation 1983)

The Nine Billion Names of God, by Arthur C. Clarke (Short Stories; 1967)

Ode to Discord: A Chimerical Combination in Four Bursts, by Charles Villiers Stanford (Song; 1909)

A Pirate Looks at Fifty, by Jimmy Buffett (Memoir; 1998)

Party Girl (Film; 1995)

Secret, Profane & Sugarcane, by Elvis Costello (Album; 2009)

Some Girls, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 1978)

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (Film; 1989)

Stroke It Rich (Radio Game Show; 1947)

Super 8 (Film; 2011)

Tangled (Phantasies Cartoon; 1944)

3, by Honeyhoney (Album; 2015)

Tumble Weed Greed (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1969)

Ups an’ Downs Derby (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1950)

The Wise Little Hen (Disney Cartoon; 1934) [1st Donald Duck]

The Year of the Mouse (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1965)

Today’s Name Days

Annamaria, Ephraim, Grazia (Austria)

Diomed, Efrem, Kolumban, Ranko (Croatia)

Stanislava (Czech Republic)

Primus (Denmark)

Elar, Haljand, Hallar, Helar, Helari, Hellar (Estonia)

Ensio (Finland)

Diane (France)

Annamaria, Diana, Ephram, Grazia (Germany)

Rodanthi (Greece)

Félix (Hungary)

Efrem, Primo (Italy)

Gita, Liega, Ligita, Naula, Valeska (Latvia)

Felicijus, Gintas, Gintė (Lithuania)

Kolbein, Kolbjørn (Norway)

Felicjan, Pelagia, Pelagiusz (Poland)

Chiril (România)

Stanislava (Slovakia)

Efrén, Feliciano, Julián (Spain)

Birger, Börje (Sweden)

Cole, Coleman, Colman, Dean, Deana, Deanna, Dee, Dena, Diana, Diane, Dianna, Dianne, Dyane, Prima, Primavera (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 161 of 2024; 205 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of week 23 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Duir (Oak) [Day 1 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Geng-Wu), Day 4 (Jia-Chen)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 3 Sivan 5784

Islamic: 2 Dhu al-Hijjah 1445

J Cal: 11 Blue; Foursday [11 of 30]

Julian: 27 May 2024

Moon: 12%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 20 St. Paul (6th Month) [Architects of the Middles Ages]

Runic Half Month: Dag (Day) [Day 1 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 83 of 92)

Week: 2nd Full Week of June)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 20 of 31)

Calendar Changes

Dag (Day) [Half-Month 12 of 24; Runic Half-Months] (thru 6.26)

Duir (Oak) [Celtic Tree Calendar; Month 6 of 13]

[subtile-jagden]

Rudolf Berthold (Part 1)

Disclaimer: This will have 3 parts as it will be longer than I thought it would be. The first part is about Bertholds early life and military career up to the end of 1915 when Bertholds fighter pilot career starts, the second part will be 1916 to 1918 where major events will be outlined as well as a documentation of his many injuries. The third part will concentrate on his activities after the war and his controversial death.

I will write down the books from which I took the information for this post at the end of Part 3.

Rudolf Berthold was born on 24th March 1891 in Ditterswind, Franconia (Bavaria), German Empire. His full name was Oskar Gustav Rudolf Berthold but as was common at the time he was called by his third name Rudolf. His parents were from Saxony but at the time of Rudolfs birth his father was the Oberförster (Chief Forester) of the area around Ditterswind. He had seven siblings; closest to him was his sister Franziska; she worked as a nurse and took care of him during his many wounds (more to that in Part 2). He always had a very strong sense of duty towards his country and was a fervent patriot, so to no surprise, after graduating school at 19 he enrolled in the military. He joined the Saxon Infantry Regiment Graf Tauentzien von Wittenberg (3. Brandenburgisches) Nr. 20. In his spare time he was very involved in several youth movements, teaching young boys survival skills and instilling in them the same love he had for Germany.

In the summer of 1914 Berthold volunteered for flight training at Halberstadt. Here he trained to be an observer with other ambitious comrades, among them Oswald Boelcke. After the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, tensions between the European powers reached a boiling point and he was recalled to his infantry regiment. He was able to formally transfer to the Fliegertruppen in July 1914 with the goal to become a pilot. The declaration of war put a stop to his plans as he was called to report as an observer to the Royal Saxon Air Base at Grossenhain.

Rudolf Bertholds war career began with Feldflieger-Abteilung 23 (FFA 23), which was part of General von Bülows 2nd Army. He flew reconnaissance on the Western front. Already in mid-August he almost became a prisoner of war when he and his pilot Leutnant Viehweger had to make an emergency landing 15 km from the front in enemy territory. Berthold and Viehweger hid in the woods and managed to make contact with a German patrol the next day. They were able to bring the airplane back to the German lines. 

One of his notable early feats was that he discovered a gap between the 1st and 2nd Army during the Battle of the Marne which the French used to thrust into the gap to get behind the German lines. Bertholds discovery led to a change of plans and earned Berthold the Iron Cross 2nd Class. This was followed shortly by the Iron Cross 1st class with Berthold being the second soldier of the 2nd Army to receive it only after Bülow.

After the deaths of some pilots of FFA 23 Berthold was sent to Etappen-Flugzeug-Park 2 to be trained as a pilot. Here he met Hans-Joachim Buddecke who will become his closest friend.

In January 1915 Berthold fulfilled his dream by passing all necessary tests. In his diary he noted that being the one who flies the plane is so important to him because he doesn´t want to have to rely on someone else. He was already infame as a demanding observer who didn´t tolerate a pilot who turns around on a mission because of some bad weather. Now he was the one in full control. At this point of the war the majority of German planes where not yet equipped with weapons. According to Berthold himself the observers were only armed with pistols and rifles. That changed in mid-1915 when machine guns where finally installed.

After being attacked by French planes Berthold and his crew crashed badly with one of the observers dying. This was a turning point for Berthold; from then on, he wanted to fly only on his own so that his decisions (and his mistakes) while flying and fighting would only affect himself.

Immelmann and Boelcke started to become successful with their single seater Fokker Eindecker and Bertholds friend Buddecke was also able to bring down enemy aircraft with this plane. This motivated Berthold to get one for himself. Fighter Units were being established in late 1915 and he was assigned as the officer in charge of KEK Vaux. The Fokker Eindecker which proofed to be superior to enemy airplanes became the weapon of choice for the Fighter Units.

End of Part 1.

[girlactionfigure]

Photograph by Jewish photographer Alfred Eisenstaedt of Nazi Propaganda Minister

scowling, seconds after Goebbels supposedly learned of Eisenstaedt's 'true identity'

Alfred Eisenstaedt (December 6, 1898 – August 23, 1995) was a German-born American photographer and photojournalist. He began his career in Germany prior to World War II but achieved prominence as a staff photographer for Life magazine after moving to the U.S. Life featured more than 90 of his pictures on its covers, and more than 2,500 of his photo stories were published.

Among his most famous cover photographs was V-J Day in Times Square, taken during the V-J Day celebration in New York City, showing an American sailor kissing a nurse in a "dancelike dip" which "summed up the euphoria many Americans felt as the war came to a close", in the words of his obituary. He was "renowned for his ability to capture memorable images of important people in the news" and for his candid photographs taken with a small 35mm Leica camera, typically with natural lighting.

Dead Fred's Genealogy Photo Archive

[bluesuns3t]

Things I get growing up as a middle child in a patriarchy house

Growing up with an older and younger brother makes my father think that all of the house chores are my responsibility (I'm a second born and woman)

My father somehow has a education fund for my two brothers but he had to get a loan to put me on college

First thing that come from my father mouth when I said I wanted to go to college is "women doesn't need higher education as men"

In high school my father told me to take social major rather than science major cause he thinks engineering and all science related are "men things"

I never ask for money from my father when I'm in college cause I'm afraid he'll remind me why he doesn't want me to go to college in the first place (I always asked my mom. She's the best)

When I'm working as a nurse and my big brother was unemployed, my father always asked me to help my brother aka give him money

When my father offered my brother to continue school rather than lying in the house do nothing and my brother rejected the offer. Then I said i really wanted to continue studying as a nurse, but my father said no, I should work instead

When I got a job offer in the operating room and got super busy, my father asked me to quit my job because no women should ever work so busy. He even found me a job as an administrator in the hospital (I ended up moving out from the house)

When I said I want to pursuing career to Germany as a nurse he doesn't want to sign the parental permission letter cause he think I should married instead (then I said even if you don't give me a permission I can ask mom and I know she'll allow it. I don't need a permission from you. But he eventually sign it)

My advice for all the middle child, it's not getting better in your house. You should find your happiness somewhere else instead. Now I'm 26 single happy living on my own but still going home every once a week (cause my parents call me to go home) and with better mental health.

And I refuse to know all of the family drama that's going on in my house cause it's not my problem. Eventhough they call me ignorant I just don't give a shit about it.