#vit speaks

[breadsticksandcheese]

also also i had the worst depressive period of my life this year so i decided to actually go to the gp and get that sorted and jm not on therapy or anything yet bUT i did get a vit D injeftion (i was really low 😭😭😭) and i havent had an oopsy thought since!!! insane tjay i jusy had to go outside more

[afreauxheaux]

Why am I just learning that Clint Capela speaks French???

[girlstressed]

YOU ARE FRENCH???

I AM NOT !!!! i am canadian (baby french)

[antisocialxconstruct]

Ooh your eldin ring build looks fun! What weapons/spells are you using?

Oh thank you! Right now my main strategy centers on the Estoc (the weapon I was born with but it's still better than any other piercing sword I've picked up) with the Bloody Slash weapon art. I like the high risk/high reward aspect of it, having to get in pretty close and sacrificing HP to deal out huge chunks of damage is really satisfying when it works right. At my current level it's enough to one- or two-hit most mobs, and the damage arc/pushback means getting swarmed isn't as devastating as it could be. I've only encountered a handful of boss enemies that couldn't be melted that way, and then it just becomes a matter of... being a little more patient 😒 (I think Seppuku is the more end-game weapon art with the same idea, I haven't gotten far enough to have access to that yet.)

Magic has been more of a toss up. Originally I was running with sorceries because I had started with one that was decent for pulling enemies out of groups, but all the other ones I'd picked up so far were pretty underwhelming. I ended up wanting to put some points in faith so I could get the extra bleed stacks from Bloodflame Blade, and realized that would also open up some other incantations (especially the dragon communion ones), so I'm still experimenting. Right now it's Bloodflame Blade, Bestial Sling, and Surge, O Flame! and I've got Dragonfire but... I forgot to equip it after hitting 15 faith 😔 so I haven't tried it yet.

[severeweatheralert]

we are entering month 4 of me not having a day thing so i'm resorting to managing my brain like a toddler

[composeregg]

my body has decided to say "Fuck Vitamin B! We don't need her! Let's fucking make ROCKS instead!"

which is very fun information I learned at the Rheumatologist today

[falklore]

i was getting dizzy these days and yesterday i realised that the symptoms start after i take my vitamin c prolonged release capsule and go away in the evening so i did the math and this morning i skipped my pill and i’m fine

[garoujo]

Oh no! Sorry, you are not feeling well! Send you lots of vitamin C effervescent pills and let's call Nagi so he can take care of you,/I'm sure he would loooove to cuddle with you ✨💖

sob fank u so much babie!!! ur so sweet ꒰ ᐢ ◞‸◟ᐢ꒱ literally chugging all of the vit c effervescent pills rn [i can’t believe they’ve failed me like this] + cuddling up to nagi even tho i know he’s gonna get super whiney if he gets sick ueueue <333 he’s too warm tho i am snuggling!!!

[shiroselia]

Måste säga, det finns en Sådan jävla glee i att bo i ett särskilt utsatt område o leva livet o tycka det är asnice o bo där

Glee som leanar lite "Älskar o vara bättre än alt-höger propaganda och älskar o vara grundad i verkligheten o vara en kritiskt tänkande individ"

Men mest bara att det är lite nice o kunna slänga det i folks ansikte

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [+18] 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [chapter two]

ʚ masterlist: part 1 ʚ tw: MDNI. SEXUAL ABUSE INTENT (she is fine and safe). usage of drugs. medical terminology and treatment. violence. slow burn romance. If you need any type of support regarding these topics, please contact with someone who can help you. I am here to help you as a nurse and a woman.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

A fist with the word DEATH inked on the knuckles, buries in your attacker’s face. It makes him fall back, letting you go almost immediately. You experiment everything as if it was happening in slow motion and the dizziness makes it difficult to stay still.

Your legs quiver and they fail you; but there are a pair of arms that don’t. Holding you in his embrace, he keeps you safe.

“Are you ok? (Name)-ya? Are you feeling ok?” he asks, desperately inspecting your almost limp body.

You take a quick look at your saviour, a goatee, caramel skin, golden earrings, and platinum stars per eyes. He is the guy who visited your booth earlier with his friend Bepo.

“I… I feel like I’m about to pass out… don’t- don’t leave me alone” you murmur, trusting your luck in yet another stranger. And then, lulled by the waves of dizziness and the sweet scent of his perfume, everything turns dark.

The tattooed man looks at the bastard, who keeps spitting blood right on the carpeted floor. Immediately, running, his three friends arrive with security personnel.

“I trust you all gonna be calling the police right now. This woman had been drugged and was about to be abused by that bastard” the tattooed youngster says, while carries you in his arms. “I am Dr. Trafalgar D. Law, will take her with me to my hospital. Send the police there, surgical department” he commands, while the security guards restrain the photographer.

As Law begin to walk towards the exit, he suddenly stops. He asks Penguin to hold you, and turning back he stands in front of the abuser. “And this, you fucking bastard, is over for you” he utters, grabbing the camera and throwing it to the ground.

He doesn’t care about the pleads of him. The camera seems new and expensive, and Law wouldn’t care breaking it a thousand times if it was possible. “Fuck you, bastard. I will do everything I can to send you to jail”

The car wasn’t waiting in the parking lot underneath the hotel, but right at the entrance. They have decided to go back, for just a single reason… a lost keychain of a polar bear plushie.

The doctor, called Law, drives away as fast as possible. He doesn’t really know what’s been inoculated in your system, so he needs to rush.

You have woken up, yet you are barely able to keep your eyes open. You discover a familiar face next to you; the kind albino guy who identified as Bepo a few hours ago.  He immediately tells you about your situation, helping you to understand what happened to you.

“Don’t worry, (Name)! you remember me, right? I’m Bepo! Captain is taking you to the hospital, he is a doctor! You are ok, you haven’t been…” Bepo stops, the word makes him gag.

“You haven’t been touched, nor abused, (Name)-ya. I’m Trafalgar Law. You are being taken to the Grandline General Hospital to see what that bastard gave you” he says, surely, and sounding like a professional you could trust.

You feel your throat dry; your lips too. Your head hurts, and you notice your dress a little ragged but definitely in one piece. “Th-thank you, sir…”

The car stops right by the entrance of a huge white building. A red cross light reflects on the wet patches of the streets. It’s already very dark outside.

You shake off your grogginess for some moments, and when the door of the car opens for you, you let the cold breeze hit your face. It feels amazing, like a sweet kiss from a lover. And then, his arms, also completely tattooed extended to you.

“Let me help you, I brought a wheelchair” Law says, waiting for you to take his hand first.

You nod, with a subtle smile and probably hyper dilated pupils. Bepo and Shachi help you too, while Penguin crawls on the front seat to drive the car to the parking lot.

He begin to push your chair and inside the building you go. The white lights, blinding and sterile, hit your eyes. And the bustling sound of the people inside turns a thousand times louder in your head.

“Dr. Trafalgar! What happened?” a young black-haired woman arrives. She is wearing purple scrubs, and her eyes are as blue as the sky.

“She- she has been drugged… She- almost-“ he explains her, while both walk a little away from you. Suddenly he is no more that young shy man you have met back at the con; Law is now a doctor ready to save your life professionally.

They immediately come back, and the woman presents herself as Dr. Nico Robin. She grabs your hand, caressing it with perhaps the same delicacy as Law while you are being pushed to your cubicle.

The bed is comfortable, even while wearing your cosplay for the longest time. Your wig, however, is about to be ripped from your head by yourself. You can’t stand that long hairy thing over your shoulders a minute more.

And that’s when a colleague comes in handy. Bepo, who immediately thinks of how uncomfortable you must feel, offers to keep your stuff safe. “Give me your wig, (Name). I will put it safely inside of your bag” he suggests.

He owns a smile from you; you are absolutely grateful for having met this beautiful people. “Thank you so much, Bepo. Here…” you whisper, while taking it off quickly as the nurses want to take your pressure and connect you to a monitor.

When Bepo scrutinizes for a wig bag inside your backpack he founds a bottle of water. “Did you drink from this, (Name)?” he asks, showing the bottle to you and then to the doctors.

You nod; it’s true, you saved it.

Immediately, a nurse runs to the laboratory with the contaminated water. While Law and Robin discuss your vital signs and another nurse initiates an IV. Not ten minutes pass, that they already -and efficiently- discover the exact component of what you have consumed; GHB or Gamma Hydroxybutyric acid.

Law, sits down right next to your bed. The effects are slowly fading away and you are able to be more alert than before. Perhaps what they have passed through your IV is working faster.

Him, who is already wearing a white coat, looks as handsome as before. He crosses his long legs covered in jeans with a peculiar pattern of black spots and lends forward to you.

“(Name-ya), you had consumed GHB. We know it as “the rape drug”, and since it lacks color, odor and taste it gets easily injected or administrated. I believe that bastard probably have introduced the drug into the bottle in some way. You are ok, the effects will fade away after it clears up from your body” the handsome doctor, that a few hours prior was just another guy at the con, tells you. He did not just save you, but he is also still taking care of you.

You nod. Speechless. Your eyes become watery in less than seconds. And you extend your hand to his, grabbing it with a tender need.

Law gasps, silently. His pupils dilate and his eyes widen. He looks at your hand on his, at the way your veins protrude so slightly on the back of it, at the subtle shake of your muscles.

“Thank you, Law…” you murmur, still in shock but definitely more than grateful for having a tattooed angel by your side. “can I ask you for a last favour?”

Law, who has placed his hand on top of yours, doesn’t dare to let you go. Even him, feels amazed by his weird reaction. Women aren’t his specialty. Not even being in the ER. He is a cardiac surgeon trainee but knows very little about “heart matters”.

He nods, waiting for your request. At this point he is willing to do whatever you ask for. Even with your hair all tangled, half dressed as a princess but no wig… you still shine bright into his eyes.

“Can you pass me my bag? I need to give you something”

Law, who hesitantly lets go of your hand, stands up and searches for your bag. He walks up to you, with butterflies filling his stomach. He wants. No, he needs, to stop. Such situation feels like a monster ripping away self-control… everything in which he relies in his life.

Your hands graze, so soft. A poet could say it’s the sweet representation of your encounter, but that’s totally the opposite. Your paths have crossed in a violent, disturbing way.

While you scrutinize the interior of your bag, he remains silent. Law, inside, feels like a child waiting to receive a gift… but why?

“Here. I’m not sure who’s the owner, but I believe you will like it. I promise I will buy you something new to thank you whenever I’m out” you murmur, handing him the little polar bear plushie you found under the table of your booth.

Law receives the gift in his hands. His lips separate. He is unable to speak. He honestly forgot about it, but, wasn’t it that same charm what made him go back and save her?

“I- this… This is mine…” he mumbles, amazed.

You tilt your head; what does he mean? His?

“This is mine. This is my keychain. It was given to me by a dear person. I lost it and I came back to search for it… that’s why I found you-“ Law says, amazed. A subtle smile flashes for quite seconds, but then he remembers the reason both are in the hospital.

“Oh… I’m glad I picked it up, then. It’s really pretty” you giggle. His child like expression melted your heart, and just even for some time there is a reason to smile in your life. Maybe happy coincidences do exist, after all.

Law, takes a good look at the charm and suddenly extends his hand to you. “Take it. You will give it to me when you feel better” he says, awkwardly.

You blink twice, taking it to your chest. Maybe he is just a stranger, and yet he is still an angel. Maybe he already noticed your loneliness in this world. That’s why, then, he is giving you something dear to hold during a lonely night.

Some tears form in your eye. The more you press the little bear against you, the more you feel like caving in. Trembling lips are barely able to express a broken “thank you” before the first tear falls through your cheek.

You put your head down, trying to cover your façade with your hair. But Law notices it, almost immediately. Though, he takes some minutes to react. Is not that he didn’t feel the need to hug you that very moment, but… would that be ok?

“Don’t… don’t cry…” he murmurs, taking his E inked index to the corner of your eye. He delicately wipes the tear away. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No… Law… you- I… don’t worry please. It’s just that… you are being like a hero and now even taking care of me. You just said this is dear to you, and you are giving it to me…” you sniffle while trying to express yourself.

Law stretches to grab a paper towel and then hands it to you. He sits right next to you in bed, even if that would probably be considered unproper from a medical practitioner and overall, a total stranger.

“You showed me how much you took care of him. I trust you with it. You know, it has helped me through difficult times… do you… do you want me to call someone? You won’t be needing to stay the night” he says, perhaps believing all of this comes from being in such a cold and sterile room.

You wipe away your tears and then look at him. “Thank you so much, but… I don’t have anyone in this city. I will be heading to my hotel once I’m out… can you- can you tell me exactly which hospital is this? If you told me, I’m sorry, I can’t remember”

Law felt taken aback. Alone? In this city? “You can stay with me tonight, or I can stay with you at the hotel. Or, we can stay at the hospital if you feel safer” he says, shocking himself, once again, at the words that came out of his mouth with no filter.

You swallow. Honestly, trusting another man feels difficult. However, Law, has helped you in more than a way… he saved your life…

ㅤㅤ ㅤ “If it’s not much of a trouble, then, I’d like to stay with you ~”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ …

“What is the Captain doing?” Bepo asks, from the door of the ER. “HE IS SITTING ON HER BED? WOW” Shachi chimes, giggling. “Guess prince charming saved his princess… let’s leave them alone. Just in case let’s stay at my place… tonight Law needs his house… empty” Penguin says, smiling at his brother and dragging his friends out.

[to be continued]

[mehilaiselokuva]

hi, random and oddly specific question i know, but could you possibly share some finnish slang thats like english "lol/lmao/wtf/istg" basically just like phrases or abbreviated words that can help me sound less like a robot cuz rn my finnish is so formal it hurts

Hi!

Finnish people use lol, lmao, wtf, and istg (and all the other English abbreviations) in texting. Most people will understand them as long as you aren't talking to a grandma or something.

However, when speaking, people WILL pronounce many of them as one word, not separate letters. "lmao" will often be pronounced as L-mao (älmao) to conform to Finnish syllable rules. Wtf or istg are never pronounced as words and people will give you "vattefak" or "aisveertugaad" (or something more English-sounding if they are bothered to)

There aren't really many "native" Finnish shortenings, people usually tend to just type everything out (I think we are used to it since our language has so many long words)

ookoo/okei is the longer way to type OK in Finnish.

evvk - "ei vois vähempää kiinnostaa" - I couldn't care less

kvg - "kato vittu googlesta" - fucking google it

mitvit / mit vit - "mitä vittua" - what the fuck

If you really want to sound less like a robot when texting, use puhekieli! (Or a local dialect if you live in Finland!) The unfortunate reality is that if Finnish people want to sound more casual when texting, they often use English and English abbreviations.

If any Finns know some common Finnish texting abbreviations, send them under this post! I genuinely couldn't think of more!

[narcoticv3nus]

Crimson and Clover 𝜗ৎ König

Kinktober Day XVI: Spanking/Impact Play

summary: time for another punishment tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, spanking, oral sex(m!receiving), degradation, punishment, mean!könig, brattamer!könig, bratty!reader, sub!reader, dom!könig wc: 2.1k a/n: what did we do this time?

MASTERLIST

Standing before him, your fingers wrapped tightly around the hem of your tiny club dress, feeling the soft fabric crinkle in your fist. The delicate material shimmered in the dim lighting as you shifted slightly, your heart racing. You peered into his cold, unforgiving gaze, a mix of fear and determination swirling within you.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, and you could sense the weight of his scrutiny. It was as if he could see through you, unraveling your thoughts and vulnerability.

König sat hunched over, his broad shoulders tense, with his elbows propped heavily on his knees. His gaze pierced through the dim light, unwavering as he fixed his unblinking icy blue eyes on you. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of your neck, sending a shiver along your spine. It was almost as if time had slowed as you began to count each long, dark lash that framed his intense stare, the weight of his presence wrapping around you like a thick fog.

“I’m sorry, König–” The moment the words slipped from your lips, you noticed his eyes narrowed slightly, a clear signal for you to stop speaking. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race as you instinctively complied, sealing your lips tightly together. You pressed them firmly, feeling the soft flesh meld, a barrier safeguarding the thoughts swirling in your mind. In that silence, unspoken words hung heavy, charged with an uncomfortable tension.

You knew you shouldn't have gone out when he told you no, but who was to tell you what you can and can't do? He's not your father, even if he pretends to be.

"So, you zink you can disobey me and zen come crawling back here vit no consequences, hmm?" König's voice was low, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the room. He studied you intently; his hands clasped together in front of him, those piercing saucers seeing right through your defiant exterior.

He momentarily said nothing, letting his words sink in before rising from his seat in one fluid motion. With a single finger, he beckoned you closer, his stern expression unwavering. He reached out, grabbing your wrist firmly yet not cruelly, pulling you over to him. As he sat back down, he tugged you forward, guiding you over his lap with a strength that left you little room to protest.

He adjusted you on his lap, ensuring your bottom was positioned just right—centered and elevated over his muscular thighs. The rough fabric of his pants scraped against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the softness of your dress. You squirmed slightly, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He placed a firm hand on your back, holding you steady as he lifted the hem of your dress, exposing your lace-covered bottom completely. His hand rose, hovering over the curve of your behind for a moment before delivering the first sharp smack. It echoed through the room, a loud clap followed by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

He continued each blow landing with precision, gradually increasing in intensity. He could feel the heat rising from your skin, his palm burning with the impact, but his expression remained stern and determined.

König's grip on your wrist tightened, his hold on you unyielding as you struggled against his firm grasp. You tried to squirm away, but his hand pressed harder into the small of your back, pinning you in place. He didn't relish in causing you pain, but he knew it was necessary—a lesson that would hopefully prevent such reckless behavior. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because of your stubbornness.

Each strike was calculated and delivered with enough force to make an impression yet not leave permanent marks. The sound of his hand connecting with your bottom filled the room, punctuated by your sharp gasps and stifled whimpers.

The spanking continued, each swat echoing through the quiet space, until König felt satisfied that the message was well received. Finally, he paused, breathing heavily as he watched your squirming form, a hungry glint in his eyes.

“M’sorry…” you sniffled, pressing your cheek into the leather cushion beneath you as his heavy, warm hand caressed over your stinging skin with a newfound tenderness, a stark contrast to the hostility it was inflicting onto you mere seconds prior. You glanced behind you, shivering as your eyes met his. “I should've listened to you,” you finished as blood rushed to your cheeks, filling you with shame. Shame for crushing your ego and submitting to the man above you and shame for liking it. Tears continued slipping down your cheeks until they created a small puddle on the cushions below.

"I know you’re sorry," König muttered, his tone softer yet firm. His hand remained on your warm, stinging flesh, rubbing gentle circles to ease the pain—a strange mix of punishment and comfort that sent confusing signals throughout your body. His touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, savoring the heat that radiated from you.

With a sigh, König lifted you into a sitting position, perched on his lap, effortlessly repositioning your legs around his waist. His hand cupped your cheek, lifting your face to meet his gaze, "You're mine. Mine to protect, mine to discipline, mine to fuck." His voice turned sharp as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your forehead. His thumb swept across your cheekbone, catching a rogue tear. "You vill never do that again, understood?" The command was gentle, yet the underlying authority was impossible to miss.

You nodded begrudgingly, your eyebrows furrowing and your bottom lip jutting into a pout. You kept your eyes locked onto his clothed chest, too humiliated to meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he urged, his voice softening. König hated seeing you upset—it was almost like looking at a wounded animal. But he also knew that you needed this.

His fingers brushed gently across your cheek, urging your chin upward until your eyes met his again. He searched your gaze, looking for the slightest hint of defiance before nodding, satisfied that the lesson had sunk in. "Good girl," he breathed, pulling you closer into a tight embrace. The firmness of his chest pressed against you as he rested his chin on your head.

As you sniffled and wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging onto him like a lifeline, König felt a warmth spread through his chest, an odd sensation of belonging. He stroked your hair gently, murmuring words in German that you didn't understand but somehow knew were meant to soothe. "I vill take care of you," he whispered in English, his accent thickening slightly, "Alvays," he promised, whispering your name into your ear as his hips pressed into yours, his erection straining against his jeans as it sought out your warmth.

"Now," König said, his voice deep and husky, breaking the silence after a few moments, "are you ready to apologize properly?" He held your gaze, his hand slipping lower to cup your bottom firmly. His fingers traced over your stinging flesh, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yes?" he prompted, lifting an eyebrow expectantly. He enjoyed this dance of power and submission between them—the way you trembled at his touch yet clung to him for support.

In response to your nod and your obedient “yes sir” that followed, König shifted his grip on your bottom, pulling you forward until your lips hovered inches from his. He pressed a hard kiss onto your mouth, his tongue demanding entrance. As you moaned and opened up to him, König deepened the kiss, claiming ownership of you once more.

One hand remained firmly planted on your backside while the other slid up your thigh, pushing your dress aside to reveal damp lace underwear. He groaned into your mouth, his fingers brushing against the fabric before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and yanking them down. You gasped against his lips as he exposed your sensitive skin to the cool air. His hand returned to cup your bare bottom, squeezing it firmly before giving it a sharp smack—a reminder of your place.

“Vell, then," he said, breaking away from the kiss, "Apologize, and maybe ve can move on from dis." His tone was gruff with lust, betraying his own need for resolution.

You immediately sank to your knees, whimpering when your knees thunked against the hardwood floor. You peered up at him, batting your lashes in faux innocence as you undid his belt, pooling it through his pant loops before unbuttoning the seam and pulling down his zipper.

As you freed him from his jeans, König's cock sprang forth, heavy and erect. He stared down at you, his breath hitching as you wrapped your small hands around his girth. When your tongue flicked out to taste him, König's hand found its way into your hair, gripping it firmly. "Vhat are you sorry for, mein Engel?" he asked, his voice strained. He knew it wasn't the time for words, but he needed to hear you admit your wrongdoing and see that you understood why you were here, on your knees before him.

“For going out when you told me no…” you murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his twitching cock, feeling his twitch tip leaking precum onto your skin.

“Zat’s right…” His hips bucked forward slightly as you began to suck him, his fingers tightening in your locks. He tried to keep his control, but the sight of your reddened cheeks and tear-stained face, coupled with the exquisite pleasure you were giving him, made it difficult.

König's eyes narrowed, and he reminded himself that this was about more than just release—it was about dominance and submission, about teaching you the consequences of disobeying him. But as your pace quickened and you took him deeper into your sinful mouth, he couldn't help but feel a primal satisfaction surge through him. He'd break you down and build you back up again—stronger, better, and utterly devoted to him.

"Mmm," he grunted approvingly, watching intently as your lips slid up and down his shaft. His eyes narrowed, savoring the moment when your gaze met his. He loved seeing you like this—submissive and eager to please him. As you continued to work his length, he reached out a hand, cupping your cheek and wiping away the remnants of tears.

"Ve all make mistakes," he said gruffly, "but ve learn from zem, ja?" His free hand drifted to your throat, applying light pressure before sliding down to cup your breast, thumbing the hardened nipple beneath your dress. "Show me how much you've learned," he growled, guiding your movements faster and harder. His release built within him, but König wouldn't let go until you'd fully atoned for your disobedience.

Watching you take him so willingly into your mouth, he couldn’t help the low rumble of appreciation that escaped his throat. His grip on your hair tightened, guiding your movements, forcing you to take him deeper than before. He savored the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the way your tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, and the gentle scrape of your teeth. He could feel his release building, but he held back—this wasn’t just about pleasure. This was a lesson, a reminder of who was in control.

"Vhat do you say?" he asked again, his voice strained with need. His fingers pinched your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. König smirked—he knew exactly how to get the reaction he wanted. "Say it," he urged, groaning your name as his hips started to buck rhythmically with your movements.

“Fank you,” you gurgled the words around his length, cringing at the sound of your voice muffled by his cock pistoning in and out of your mouth.

König's smirk deepened. "Very good." He leaned forward, his free hand resting on your shoulder as he thrust deeper into your mouth. "Ve're making progress," he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

He continued to fuck your face, relishing the feeling of power as you struggled to keep up with his pace. But you were strong, he could tell—stronger than most. And König loved nothing more than pushing those he cared for to their limits. When he finally released himself, it was with a moan that echoed through the room, painting your face and hair with his seed.

As you sat back, coughing and gasping for breath, König couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He pulled you to your feet and wiped the remnants of black-stained tears away with his thumb.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered gruffly, releasing you and turning to fix himself. When he looked back, his eyes were serious. "And don't forget—next time you disobey me, ve'll be having a different conversation." He didn't want to frighten you, but you needed to know that there would always be consequences. That was just part of being his.

main masterlist, rules

[mistydeyes]

pharmacist! hcs

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summary: ik some people put themselves in the role of the pharmacist but here are some headcanons i have for her if you consider her more of an oc :)

pairing: 141 x pharmacist!reader

see her here counseling the 141

her story if she likes price

her story if she likes ghost

PS. Another part of her story is coming soon! Look out for next Wednesday :)

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joined the British Army as a pharmacy captain after a two year pharmacy residency in a London hospital

she realized that working at a local chemists and in a hospital weren’t for her so she decided on the career change

speaking of her life before being a pharmacy captain, she was a good student — not at the bottom but not at the top

she primarily struggled with anything related to pharmacology but excelled with therapeutics and counseling

her blood type is O- (a universal blood donor)

before becoming a pharmacist, she had aspirations of becoming a linguist or historian

was amazing at picking up languages and learning them after some time

but she was drawn to pharmacy after seeing how it helped a close family friend who had an MRSA resistant infection

knows 10 different languages and counting (with varying speaking and writing fluency) - English obvi, Spanish, Mandarin, Greek, Latin, Russian, Arabic, Swedish, German, French, and is currently learning Portuguese

loves taking walks and runs at the base gym (she has to get in her recommended 150min of exercise a week)

if you think she’s listening to music while exercising you’re wrong, she’s listening to podcasts and always loves the medicine focused ones

always will show up to military balls or formal events and talk to you about anything under the sun

loves interacting with people 1 on 1 rather than behind a pharmacy counter

also keep in mind she’s not flirting, she just loves chatting with people and knowing how to make their day better

one time, she met a linguist and after the initial awkwardness (she thought the pharmacist was hitting on her), they had a whole conversation about the nuances of languages

if you know her well, you’ll notice how she deflects the conversation onto you and talking abt yourself as she loves observing

Gaz and Ghost frustrate her at times as she finds herself revealing things she normally won’t tell patients

despite the health risk, she loves caffeine and always has an energy drink or cup of coffee during the day

her diet is completely different, she prefers to prepare things in her room or look for the best things in the mess hall (she needs a balanced diet)

her bookshelves in her room are filled with books in a variety of languages and are often history books or classics

she also is currently reading a book that details the history of women in medicine

she has pictures in her room which show her happiest times aka being in pharmacy school

carries a large water bottle with her at all times and her tech’s have to remind her to stay hydrated during a shift

her techs are basically her siblings and she likes to take them off base occasionally to chat about something different than drugs and immunizations

her drink of choice is a tequila sunrise because tequila is the only alcohol that isn’t a depressant and also orange juice is a great source of Vit C!

her second drink of choice is a penicillin

wants to be a professor when she retires and dreams of teaching about self-care recommendations and emergency medicine

has a small tattoo of a mortar and pestle on her forearm, she got it with some of her friends when they all graduated

her tech joked that she should get a notepad tattooed on her wrist because she always writes reminders on her arms

primarily lives on base and occasionally visits her parents who live in Brighton

she updates them weekly but they know their daughter is in one of the safest places in the UK

her favorite drug to administer are any antimalarials, eye drops, nasal spray, and inhalers (she loves that she just has to count the boxes)

her least favorite is Metformin and thyroid drugs as they often are in counts of 90 or 180

constantly uses pink pen and colorful sticky notes (peep her little notes in the medical files)

the reason she hates doctors is not because of anything significant but because of an ex that told her that her degree was irrelevant because she didn’t go to med school

hates the stigma against pharmacists, in the US they’re literally considered doctors so why is there such disrespect?

she’ll never admit it but her favorite patients are the 141, they all have such unique personalities that she constantly looks for their scripts every morning

[narwhal39]

I became lazy and copied the original singer

Just an idea for @narwhal39.

Kurogane singing Sukima Switch's "Zenryoku Shounen".

🙇‍♂️

[bigasswritingmagnet]

The First of Many Goodbyes

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Oggie/Oggie's wife (please name her, Foglios, I beg you) Summary: One of Ognian's greatest losses is fast approaching, and Khrizhan must make him understand that the death that Jӓgers are surrounded by is found at home as much as the battlefield.

A far distant sequel to Meet-Cute-ish.

AO3 Link

It was a nice little house in a nice part of town, with a slate roof and stone walls, brightly painted yellow shutters, a rose trellis, window boxes of small white flowers. And yet a pall hung over the house, an invisible but palpable sense of foreboding and grief, like an incredibly localized stormcloud.

Khrizhan knocked on the door, gently. After a moment or two, it opened. A young woman with a mass of soft ginger curls looked up at him in surprise.

“Good mornink,” he said, politely. “Hy is here to speak to Ognian.”

Her eyes narrowed; her expression grim and wary. Stiffly, she nodded and stepped aside.

The dark cloud was even heavier inside than out, turning the comfortable home into a something like a living tomb. Khrizhan was led into a sitting room and somewhat stonily bade to rest himself in a loveseat that was only just large enough to contain his bulk.

“Grandpoppa,” the girl called, and disappeared through a doorway.

As Khrizhan waited, he took in his surroundings. The furnishings were eclectic but comfortable. The walls were crowded with pictures and trophies, and shelves covered in little knickknacks. Above the fireplace was a painting, a family portrait of parents, children, and grandchildren. Ognian had bragged about it for months, and Khrizhan had to admit it was masterfully done. The artist had managed to capture the sly smile and playful disposition that turned Radka's ugliness into its own kind of beauty.

Ognian shuffled in, and Khrizhan felt his heart sink in sympathy. He had never seen the other man so miserable before. No hint of his perpetual smile; his boundless energy had been bound tight in the exhaustion that sagged his shoulders. Khrizhan did not take it personally when Ognian stared blankly at him without saluting.

“Sit, Ognian,” Khrizhan said, kindly.

Ognian did so, slowly sinking down onto an armchair directly across the low table between them.

“How is she?” Khrizhan asked. He didn’t really want to ask, didn’t need to ask, if it came to that, but it was necessary. The very question seemed to cause Ognian to shrink in on himself.  

“Doctor says any…any day now.” His eyes flicked back to the doorway he’d come in through, and Khrizhan knew the man wanted him out of the house so he could return to his wife’s side. Dimo had said no one had seen Ognian in three days.

“Hy tought as much. Ve—”  

Ognian’s son appeared, bearing a tray with a teapot, one teacup, and one larger mug that would be easier for Khrizhan to hold. The arrival seemed to startle Ognian out of his fog and into the present.

“Oh,” he said, dismayed. “Hy should have asked—”

Khrizhan waved it away.

“Hyu has effery reason to be distracted.”

Vasil set the tray down on the table between them, and Khrizhan took a moment to compare the two men. They had always looked astonishingly similar, and there had been a period of time where they had often been mistaken for each other. But Vasil had aged, while his father had not, and now Khrizhan wondered if Ognian ever looked at his son and saw the man he might have been, if he had taken a different path.

Vasil left, pausing to squeeze his father’s shoulder; Ognian put a distracted hand over his, squeezing back. Khrizhan waited until the man was out of the room.

“De Heterodyne has announce he vishes to ride out—”

Ognian snapped around to face Khrizhan, his entire body going rigid, the color visibly draining from his face. Khrizhan raised a hand, forestalling a reaction.

“—und Hy is here to tell hyu to stay home.”

Ognian sagged again, his eyes closing briefly.

“Until furder notice, hyu is relieved of all duties. Stay vit hyu lady und hyu family. De Heterodyne...understands."

It took Ognian several heavy swallows before he could whisper out “Tank hyu.”

Wordlessly, Khrizhan served the tea. Ognian was staring out of the room again, chewing on his thumbnail, lost in thought. Absentmindedly, he took the cup Khrizhan gave him and sipped it. He choked and nearly gagged at the taste. Khrizhan, his own mug halfway to his lips, paused.

Ognian gestured for Khrizhan to hand over his cup and began to liberally doctor both cups with sugar and cream.

“Hy love my son very much,” Ognian said in a low voice, “but he ken’t make tea vorth a damn.”

Khrizhan took his mug again and warily took a very tiny sip. Even with all the additions, he could taste that Ognian’s son had somehow managed to burn the tea leaves. 

“Vell,” Khrizhan said, tactfully setting the mug aside, “dot leads me to de odder reason Hy came to see hyu.”

Ognian looked wary, his hands tight on the cup.

“Hyu is a young Jӓger,” Khrizhan said. “Young enuff dot hyu could still be alive, if hyu had not taken de Jӓgerdraught.” He nodded towards the door Ognian could not keep his eyes from. “She is de forst vun dot hyu should not have outlived. She vill not be de last. Novhere near de last. De pipple around hyu vill age und die und hyu vill keep goink.” He met Ognian’s eyes and spoke without cruelty or mercy. “Hyu vill live to see hyu son die.”

Ognian put the cup down with a clatter and buried his face in his hands. He was shaking all over. Khrizhan wished he could, somehow, make it not be so. He had had this conversation with hundreds of Jӓgers, watched them face down the looming future and the endless centuries of loss it promised, and every time wished he could change it.

“It is de price ve pay for de gifts de Jӓgerdraught gives us, und it is a steep vun. It is easy for us to…lose touch. Ognian.”

Ognian raised his face, silent tears running down his cheeks.

“It is very temptink to give up. To stay avay from everyvun, to lose hyuself in blood und var. Hy haff seen it before, und it leads to madness, alvays. Find someting dot grounds hyu, someting dot keeps hyu connected to de vorld und its pipple. Someting dot vill help hyu keep being hyuself.”

He glanced meaningfully at the picture over the fireplace, and Ognian’s eyes followed his gaze. The man wiped the tears from his face, looking thoughtful.

“Hy tink Hy can do dot,” he said, softly.

Khrizhan nodded and rose.

“Good. Hy vill take no more of hyu time. Hy know it is precious to hyu.”

Ognian walked him to the door, where Khrizhan put a hand on his shoulder.

“Take de time hyu need. Ven hyu is ready to come back, hyu let me know.” Khrizhan hesitated, and then said, softly, “Hy iz…very sorry, Ognian.”  

“I’m not even dead yet.”

Both Jӓgers jumped. In the room adjacent, Khrizhan saw a large bed had been set up. Lying half-lost amidst the pillows was Radka. She was hardly recognizable as the vivacious woman Khrizhan had known—only a few strands of red in her gray hair, the arms laid out on the blankets knobbly and thin, pale and parchment-skinned—but the look in her eyes was as sharp as ever.

“Hyu is supposed to be asleep,” Ognian scolded.

The woman snorted.

“All I do is sleep. Who is it? Khrizhan? Get in here.”

“Radka,” Ognian said, exasperated despite himself.

“It is my prerogative as a sickly old woman to make as much of a nuiscance of myself as I can!”

“Fine,” Ognian said. “But if hyu’s avake it means hyu can take hyu medicine.”

“Oh really,” Radka called as her husband disappeared down the hallway. “Red fire, Ognian, I’m already dying, what good will it do me?”

Khrizhan chuckled as he approached the bed.

“Good to see hyu hasn’t changed any.”

Radka’s lips quirked as she lay back against the pillows.

“Nonsense. I’m incredibly ornery. I’m on my second doctor, and I’m pretty sure I drove the first one to drink.”

“Ya,” Khrizhan said, nodding. “Not changed at all.”

Radka smiled, but it was rueful and faded quickly. She reached out and grabbed his wrist. He was shocked at how weak her grip was. It was as if the mere act of curling her fingers took all the strength she had.

“Will he be alright?” she asked, softly. “They’re all being insufferably brave around me.” Radka let her hand drop away. “As pleasing as it would be to my ego, I would rather he not spend the rest of his existence wearing black and walking the walls, weeping."

“No,” Khrizhan said, reassuringly. He went for absolute honesty, knowing she would accept nothing else. “He vill suffer, yez, but he vill come beck. He haz hiz family, und as long as he haz dem, he vill not lose himself.”

Radka smiled.

“Good.” Then her smile went a little wider and she started to snicker. Khrizhan raised an eyebrow. “He’s got a vested interest in ensuring the continuation of the family line,” Radka pointed out, eyes shining. “He’s going to be worse than the castle.”

Khrizhan burst out laughing. She was absolutely right. Herding angry mammoths was an easier task than redirecting Ognian when he’d set his mind to something.

“My sympathies to hyu descendants,” he said with a broad grin.

“Vut’s so funny?” Ognian asked, appearing in the door with a small cup in his hand.

“I’m mocking you behind your back,” Radka said.

“Ho, nize break from hyu mockink me to my face,” he said, unperturbed.

Ognian sat down on the bed beside her and handed Radka the cup—though Khrizhan noted he kept his fingers pressed to the bottom, subtly supporting it as she drank. When she had finished, Radka made a face and mock glared at him.

“Fusspot,” she said, stroking his wrist.

“Old hag,” he replied, with aching fondness.

“Hy must go now,” Khrizhan said. “Ve prepare for tomorrow. Tink on vut Hy said, Ognian.”

“Thank you for visiting,” Radka said, warmly. “It was nice to see you.”

The 'one last time' was not said, but felt all the same.

Khrizhan bowed, his eyes stinging slightly, and left them there.

[tired-demonspawn]

hollywood could never make a movie as batshit as Lotrando a Zubejda.

like imagine: a fun story in the czech woods where the son of the leader of a thief group gets an education and becomes an honest lumberjack against all odds.

fun right? sounds complete already.

yeah the problem is that... all that happens in the first 50 minutes of this 100 minute movie. the halfway point.

what happens next? well a delegation from a non-descript arabic country rolls up, looking all over the land for doctors, for their princess is sick. the son and the lumberjack he met are recruited because the lumberjack's name starts with Dr and the delegation were told they should look for a Dr.

no im not making this up

they get to their non-descript arabic country and meet the princess. but damn, they just lumberjacks they dont know shit about being doctors. so they are sentenced to be executed for failing to cure her.

now they maybe aint doctors, but they got sum of dat common sense. and they deduce "hey the princess aint getting any sunlight, she aint gettin dat vit D yfeel?" so as a last request they want to "dance".

aka the czech jewlery salesman they met along the way distracts their supervisor and just says things like "oh theyre probably just dancing dupák, that's why there such loud bangs" while our 2 boys cut down all the trees in front of the princess' window.

the princess gets that vitamin D, touches some grass, eats a thicc slice of bread with cottage cheese and is feeling much better already. the sultan sees this and is like "oh my god you cured my baby girl!" cancels the execution and throws them a feast.

during the feast, the son and the princess get closer.

next day:(joseph joestar voice) oh no! the son is sick... lovesick. upon reuniting with his long lost mother, who coincidentally happened to be a maid thingy in the sultan's court, she tells him "well lil lotrando seems 2 me that ur in love"

and through some misc. happenings bada bing bada boom, lotrando and zubejda(the son and the princess) marry each other. 'even though they speak a different language and have a different religion, love finds a way' as it were.

and if you need to know, yes they did have kids, and none of them had to become thieves.

and like the worst thing is... IT WORKS?????

LIKE

IT ACTUALLY WORKS????

all the things that are set up are like pretty well paid off????

the jewlery salesman first meets lotrando while he was in school, he then travels to the non-descript arabic country for bussiness and tells em "see back home we call our doctors Dr., lemme write it down for ya on this blackboard"

because lotrando went to school he could write the Dr on the other side of the small blackboard

they have the homemade cottage cheese twice, once after the lumberjack and lotrando become friends once after they help the princess.

and so much more?????

like???

it shouldnt work???

but thats the beauty of czech cinema(or at least older czech cinema), it dont have to make sense if its a banger

my point is: hollywood could never-