#exact argument i'm writing a paper about. i hate it here

[weidli]

wenn ich echt einen offiziellen antrag inklusiv 20 franken gebühren und portogebühr stellen muss damit ich einen bundesgerichtsentscheid von 1922 (der zwar nicht in der amtlichen sammlung publiziert wurde (sonst wäre alles einfacher the uni bern has a website that looks like it hasn't been updated since 1994 but at least has Every Single BGE) aber in einem anderen entscheid der publiziert wurde an einer doch recht wichtigen stelle zitiert wird) anschauen kann i'll. Well i'll do something that'll land ME in the amtliche sammlung der entscheide des schweizerischen bundesgerichts

[blossom-works]

Love Always Comes With Pain

"Hunnigan, patch me to Anastasia." The computer guru asks you why, but you tell her that there is no time to explain. Your eyes are frantic and your breathing is heavy. Hunnigan nods and types away at her keyboard. You quickly take an earpiece and put it into your left ear.

"Anastasia?" You tell the woman who you are and that you work for the federal government (without specifying which one).

"What do you want? Do you want to tell me how crazy I am for doing this to avenge my husband?" The woman spits with venom.

You shake your head "No" even though she cannot see you. "I'm here to tell you that I understand. I'm married and I can't imagine losing my husband."

Anastasia who was about to pour the virus down her gullot stops.

"Listen to me Anastasia, I can't imagine what you've gone through. I can't imagine the pain you felt when you found out your husband died, but I do know that he doesn't want this for you. He doesn't want you to take the path of hatred."

"What do you know? Your husband is alive! You get to hear him say that he loves you! I didn't get that! The last conversation we had was an argument about him not quitting his stupid job!"

"But he loved you! He loved you so much, Anastasia. In fact, before he went on that mission he left you a letter."

"What letter? I never got one."

You take the stack of two papers and hold it out in front of you. You take a nearby sticky note and write something down real quick and show it to Claire.

"That's because you disappeared before the authorities could give it to you." And then, you start reading the letter.

"My dear lily," Hearing the nickname only her husband called her broke Anasatsia's heart.

"If you're reading this, then that means that I am no longer part of this earth. I don't want you thinking too much about my death. I want to let you know that I love my job and I would do it all over again even if it meant my death. If I were to go back in time though, I would've taken the time to listen to you and to tell you that I love you. I regret how we left things off.

Don't cry too much okay, Lily? And don't hate the agency too. If we don't do our jobs then the whole world is doomed. As much as I loved my job and my title, they mean nothing compared to you. My greatest honor in life was being able to call myself your husband, and my greatest accomplishment was calling you my wife.

I left some money in a separate account. I'm sorry that I kept that from you, but I created it for this exact case. Why don't you use that money and go on that trip we always talked about. The one in Australia? Seeing so many damn kangaroos that we end up becoming them. You should go, for the both of us.

It's time that I say goodbye Lily. It doesn't matter where you go, or if you fall in love with someone else and have that family you've always wanted, I'll always be with you. You will never be alone. I love you, Lily."

It took you everything in your power not to break down while reading the letter. Your heart truly breaks for Anastasia. The woman had nothing before meeting Jared. No living relative or children. When Jared died, Anastasia had nothing to keep her grounded.

In the background, you can hear some shouting and the sound of a door being broken down. Heavy boots hitting metal and guns cocking. With a broken voice, Anastasia asks you, "Did he really write that?"

"Yes...He wrote this letter for you Anastasia." You do not know what happens in the next two minutes because Anastasia tossed her phone aside, but then Claire came running in.

"You guys! They have Anastasia Boyette in custody and the vile of the virus."

Hunnigan cheers but it falls dead in your ears. You clasp the edge of the desk and take in a series of deep breaths. You try your best to blink the tears away but one water droplet manages to escape. Your two friends ask if you are okay and you just nod your head. You hand the letter to Claire and ask if she can personally hand the letter to Anastasia when time permits.

Later in the day, you hear the front door open and boots being taken off.

"Babe?"

Huddled on the couch you tell Leon where you are. When they successfully captured Anastasia, you immediately went home. You did not feel like celebrating this win. Leon comes around the corner and makes his way to you, but you beat him to it.

Seeing your husband brings a wave of emotions to you. Your arms wrap themselves around his torso and you bury your face in his chest. Leon thinks that you just miss him a lot and jokes that he should leave more often if this is the greeting he gets. You say nothing. You do not even laugh. Instead, you cry. Feeling his shirt getting wet, Leon asks you what is wrong.

"What's wrong sunshine? Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Did something happen?" Leon cups your cheeks and tilts your head up. His heart clenches at how defeated you look. Again, he asks if anything happened but you cut him off.

"I don't care." Your statement stumps Leon a bit. "I don't care where you go in this world to do God knows what because you have to. I don't care about that. I don't care how long it takes. I just...I just want you home." Your voice cracks.

Hysterically, you continue spilling everything you feel. "I don't care how you do it. Just come home. Do whatever you have to do. Shit, I don't care if you have to lose a limb or two. An eye. I don't care if your body is scorched or if you end up paralyzed for the rest of your life." By now your face is wet with tears. "I don't care Leon...I don't care about any of that. I just want you to come home to me. I want you home."

When you finish, you are completely overwhelmed with emotions. Leon shushes you and kisses your head. He wraps one arm around your back and cups the back of your head. Leon tenses the muscles in his arms to hold you even tighter. Soothingly, Leon rocks your bodies while carding his fingers in your hair.

Leon always believed that he would not survive this world without you. That if he ever lost you he would go insane and might even become the very people he is tasked to stop. Leon still believes this, but he realizes that this way of thinking is selfish. He forgot about you. He forgot about the scenarios when you lose him, not the other way around. Leon realizes that it is not just you who needs to live for him, but that he needs to live for you. The both of you would be empty shells if you lost the other. Your hearts just cannot work if they lose their reason to pump.

---

This idea randomly came to me and I couldn't let the opportunity pass, so please excuse the sloppy work.

FYI, I teared up thinking about this and again when I wrote it.

[glitterguts13]

Can you do Dr. Ratio or Gallagher x Caelus mpreg, with preg-Dr. Ratio/Gallaget?

Fluff plz~

Like their far along amd getting frustrated with their belly getting the way and just bring preg in general.

Can it have some age difference?

Plz and thank you

Why not both? My personal age headcanons for these three are as follows: Ratio: 35 Gallagher: 45 Caelus: 23 On a good day, learning under Dr. Ratio was brutal. Learning under a heavily pregnant, sore, and downright miserable Dr Ratio was its own fresh hell. There was no stopping to let anyone write notes, no time for questions, and heaven forbid you submit a late paper-

The chalk snaps in half, and Ratio all but grands the rest to dust in his fist. His back hurt, his ankles hurt, hell even his hair felt like it was hurting and the way his belly got in the way of him using the chalkboard at all was pushing him over the edge.

"Knock knock." there was no knock, just the voice responsible for his misery.

"Caelus, I have told you numerous times to not interrupt me while I am working." Dr. Ratio snaps, glaring over his shoulder at the younger man. The trailblazer stood at the door of the empty classroom with a take-out bag in hand, grinding sheepishly.

"Come on, it's your lunch break. Have you even eaten yet today?" he waves the bag in the air, "I got your favorite."

Ratio pauses, hand hovering over the chalkboard.

"...Carbonara?"

"With pork, from that place downtown you like." had he the strength, Ratio would have slapped that smug grin right off his lovers face.

"Very well. I suppose I can take a short break." tossing the broken chalk into the bin, Ratio carefully lowers himself down into his seat, hissing as the weight shifts off his ankles and settles into his spine.

"You know, most people take maternity leave this far along." setting the food in front of Ratio, Caelus hums to himself, "It won't kill you to hand over your job to a substitute for a few weeks so you can rest."

There was an argument to be had, but for once, Ratio couldn't bring himself to start it. The food looked too good and he was far too hungry to ignore it.

"Still, I wish you wouldn't bother coming here," he grumbles into his first forkful, eyes narrowing. Caelus chuckles warmly,

"I think you're a little past hiding your 'condition', doctor." the announcement of his pregnancy had sent shockwaves through the school, and well, the galaxy. No one expected the great Dr. Ratio to ever consider having a child, let alone with someone so...different from himself.

"I don't want people to get the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea? You don't want people to know I'm the father?" the jest is wiped from his tone, and for a moment, Caelus looks genuinely hurt. Ratio kicks himself mentally, no matter if he didn't show it, he hated seeing his lover look anything but their usual happy self.

"Caelus, you look young enough to be one of my students. I don't want anyone to think I've gone and done something uncouth." truthfully, no one was really sure just how old Caelus was. An adult, yes, even with all his knowledge, Ratio couldn't pinpoint an exact age, only the general range of 19 to 25. Even on the higher end of that scale, Caelus was still a decade his junior and that could certainly raise some eyebrows.

"I mean, I look young enough to be a student, but I could be older than you for all we know." not factually incorrect, but highly unlikely. Ratio sighs, shaking his head.

"If it's that big a deal, I promise not to bother you at work anymore. I just...worry about you. You work so hard and you never rest enough." there it was again, that kicked puppy expression that made Ratio feel entirely too guilty.

"...I suppose I don't mind you visiting. Sometimes. When class isn't in session." he ignores the shit-eating grin that spreads over his lover's face, but nearly stabs his fork into the back of Caelus's neck when the younger man dove to his knees and presses a cheek against his swollen belly.

"Aw~ Your mama isn't so mean after all~" face flushed, and a few curious students stuck their heads into his classroom, Ratio growled under his breath.

"Get. Out."

~~~~

At the age of forty-five, Gallagher thought his baby-making days were long over.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"Caelus, I need you to get me that bottle of whiskey. The one up top, yeah, that one, in the gold bottle." leaning back against the bar, one hand resting over the top of his swollen belly, Gallagher watches his boyfriend climb up top of the bar and snatch the bottle down.

"Thanks."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, pick up that dish towel over there for me." Caelus grins and does as he's asked without hesitation.

"Can't climb up the bar, can't bend down to pick shit up...can't even have a goddamn drink," Gallagher grumbles under his breath, poking at his taunt gut with a frown, "All because of you."

""Aw, don't blame the baby." Caelus whines, hooking his arms around Gallagher's and hugging him tightly. The pitiful puppy dog pout does nothing to move Gallagher.

"Right. I should be blaming you." he flicks the trailblazer's forehead, smirking as he whines loudly and lets go of his arm to rub to sore spot.

"I'm too old for this shit. Youngin's like you should be the one's having babies, not me." how he ended up in this mess was anyone's guess. Knocked up and nearly fifty with a boyfriend who he isn't even sure can legally drink outside of Penacony.

"I think you look adorable." there comes that sweet purr, the flick of his tongue over those soft pink lips and beautiful, lust-filled eyes. His hands are on Gallagher in seconds, rubbing his tummy and nuzzling into his neck.

Right.

That's how he got into this position.

"I think," Caelus cooes, nipping at Gallagher's ear, "You've got another pregnancy or two in you before it's time to stop."

[serrurie]

Getting Your Life Together-Day 1: Introduction/Realization

Hey! I'm Serrurie, pretty new to Tumblr! I'm here to help you with life's problems through my new blog. Mwah!

You’re getting your life together, right now. I don’t care if you have soccer practice or homework, if it’s easier to just sit in your room and cry. I’m here to help you; think of me not as a grumpy teacher, an angry boss, but as a friend. Together, we’re going to combat life’s problems, and personal struggles, as well as ways to overcome that horrible, pessimistic, nagging voice in our minds. 

Welcome to ‘Getting Your Life Together-Day 1-Intro/Realization’.

Now that my little intro is over, I have a tough question to ask.

How are you? The default answer would be ‘fine’.

‘I’m ok’.

‘Leave me alone’.

Those answers simply won’t do today. As your friend, I need you to address the truth. You don’t have to tell me, but if you clicked on this page, you are not fine. The problem is that we all have different experiences, and this leads many of us to believe we are the only ones with those experiences. Are you struggling financially and can’t get your feet up off of the ground? You might feel you’re the only one without money. How about those toxic friends leading you to bad decisions? Surely you’re the only one with them. Or that argument that keeps digging a deep hole in your mind and heart? Everyone else seems to be so peaceful and happy right now.

You’re the only imperfect one, right? Wrong. I know there are days when we see that perfect person on Instagram and/or TikTok, with the blonde hair, a boyfriend, already with her own house/apartment, living out her days of sweater weather, iced lattes, and her cute, little fridge restock. No hate, no hate. I just want you to know that she isn’t perfect. She will never be perfect. Neither will you.

So, let’s do this. Grab a piece of paper, fine-tip marker, pen, something like that. Now, write down 10 of your imperfections. I’ve already done mine. Are there tears on your paper? Good. Those tears just released a lot of emotions I bet you’ve had pent up inside.

Now, you may think I’m going to say to crumple up that paper and throw it away because there’s nothing wrong with you. That is wrong. We are not going to hide from our imperfections. We are not going to pretend everything is fine, because it’s not. You are imperfect, I am imperfect, and the entire world is ridden with horrible people like you and me.

But, if you are telling yourself you’re ugly? Stop it. If you are telling yourself you’re not worth it? Stop that. You are beautiful(or handsome), and so, so worth it, and there are so many things I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me. 

About that paper. Since you haven’t crumpled it up (you better not have), draw a box beside each and every imperfection. We aren’t going to ‘fix’ you in this series; simply put, together, we are going to give you the power over those imperfections. 

This series is going to be based on the ten imperfections I wrote down for myself (it won’t be exact). Of course, we all have different experiences, as I said before. If there’s a topic that you haven’t seen covered and you want to message me about it, feel free! This is a safe space! I won’t judge, and even better, you’ll finally get your guilt/stress/sadness off of your chest! My ten imperfections are pretty common though, so I’ll be covering something most likely on your chest.

Feeling motivated yet? Maybe not. This is a pretty harsh intro, but I think I said what needed to be said. 

If you don’t like what I said, then you may be hiding from the truth; a common problem. We don’t like when people say what’s wrong with us, or something we worked hard on, or anything in general like that. Well, let me tell you:

The truth will never change. 

You can keep crying; you can keep telling yourself you’re not worth it. You can keep making all the wrong choices, hanging out with all the wrong people, thinking about all the wrong things, and hoping something will change. If you’re doing that? You, my friend, are the definition of a hypocrite.

In this series, we’re going to stand up to those friends, deal with those choices, and set our minds on better things. We are going to make a change, together. I want you to be a part of it. I want to see this community build together for the sake of others! I want us to rid ourselves of the poison we let seep into our hearts. Poison may not make us die, but it will be painful, choking, and honestly disgusting.

What’s your poison? Let’s find the antidote.

I love you!     -Serrurie

[jcmorrigan]

Just popping by and asking because I'm curious about your self ship with Giovanni. How did you both meet? :3

Ooh, I love this story! Though I had it only bare-bones before...this ask inspired me to sit on it and think through more of the details! So now I have a little more of that.

First of all, it doesn’t exactly follow the storyline of this song, but I just discovered it last night and I was STRUCK by how fitting it was for this whole ship, so give it a listen while reading this. Also, this got LONGER THAN I EXPECTED I’M SO SORRY

So. Here’s me: Rachel Scribere. Absolute mundie. Wants to be Inscribed, but that’s just not my life. Also wants to move up in the publishing industry, since she loves writing (mostly fanfiction, but let’s not tell the world that). And good news! A suburb outside Sweet Jazz City is hiring for a small local paper! Better than nothing, right? So I move from my small town into the heart of the city, scraping up for a cheap apartment so I can get started at work.

And it’s Hell.

My boss? Racist, homophobic, Lexist, and thinks I’m annoying. This job is slowly killing me, but I think it’s my only shot. If I lose it, I lose the apartment, I have to move back in with my parents, I have to let everyone down. Not to mention I haven’t made any friends yet in this city...surely my co-workers can’t be as bad as I think, right? They’ll be my pals eventually, right?

In the throes of depression, feeling absolutely no worth, I’m left to watch the office one day while the others are out. At a “business lunch” without me. Because I’m not in their inner circle yet, and probably will never be. I’m just trying to do some menial task they haven’t trained me how to do properly, nearly crying because it’s just not working and I know they’re gonna come back and be mad with how little I got done.

When the wall blows open.

“THERE’S NOWHERE LEFT TO RUN, [SUBURB] HERITAGE MUSEUM! FOR YOU HAVE BECOME THE NEXT TARGET OF THE BANZAI BLASTERS, AND THEIR PEERLESS LEADER, GIOVANNI POTAGE!”

When the dust clears, we’re trying to work out what, exactly, just happened.

He tried to rob a heritage museum in this suburb...and showed up at the wrong fucking building.

So he’s just all “Oh. So that’s why I’m the only one who showed up. Caaaan we just forget this ever happened? OKAYTHANKSBYE” and peaces out.

Well, I’m just about done, because our office got blown up and I still haven’t done my job and this is gonna be on my head and I just kinda fall on the floor and start crying. (Look, I know this isn’t the most headstrong start, but it’s my fantasy and I wanna be rescued from despair!)

When Giovanni WALKS RIGHT BACK IN to ASK ME FOR DIRECTIONS TO THE ACTUAL MUSEUM -

And witnesses me having a breakdown. “Hey...you, uh...you okay there?”

Well, now I’m mad at him for fucking up my life, because I am SO fired, so I get up and start sobbing and screaming at him how this is gonna be seen as my fault, and how this was already so horrible and it’s just so much worse now, but I launch into how little I was valued and Giovanni interrupts to express disbelief that my bosses didn’t take the time to help me catch up and feel welcome. After all, aren’t bosses supposed to treat their minions with love and respect?

Well, that’s when said bosses come back to the office. And they let me HAVE it.

Giovanni is miffed for two reasons. One, that they’re ragging on their precious minion (me) when that’s not something anyone should ever do, not ever! Two, that by going all “SCRIBERE. WHAT...DID...YOU...DO?”, they are totally stripping him of the cred of having made that bombastic entrance. He’s supposed to be the villain here, okay? Know his name! Fear it!

A great big argument ensues, with Giovanni defending this poor “newspaper minion” he just met and me not knowing what to say and my bosses trying to chase this crazy supervillain wannabe out of their office. And as Giovanni starts rattling off how much I deserve better and I’d be better off just quitting and being a villain...I get the impulsive idea. Hey, why not? At least I might feel alive.

So I stand up and make the decision for myself. I’m quitting. Effective now. And becoming an actual villain because I’m tired of adulting. SEE YA!

And I walk out.

Only to realize, a couple blocks away, that I have just thrown out my only financial lifeline.

Cue breakdown #2.

Now, Giovanni, he hasn’t gone love-at-first-sight for me or anything. But he does know a sad minion when he sees one, and he sort of has it in his head this is kiiiiiinda his fault, so he tails me to make sure I’m okay (which I’m not). And, I mean, a professional villain isn’t who I expected to be venting to, but he’s all I’ve got, so when he says he’ll listen, I just let it all out.

Giovanni has a great idea: I could join the Banzai Blasters with him! To which I utterly refuse. I mean, everyone knows it’s a pyramid scheme at this point, right? No one would join without being fully aware of that. (Gio: ”Heheh...yeah...I mean, I definitely knew that when I signed on, but that just means they’re legit bad guys...”)

But then he gets a BETTER idea! What if I’m an independent contractor villain? I keep the spoils of my own heists! He even thinks he remembers the name of some appraiser in the Blaster handbook that could help me get a foothold in the black market! I just need to steal some stuff to get startup capital, and hey, no one said I couldn’t tag along with the Blaster squad and take some of the spoils, like the awesome cursed swords we’re gonna find at the museum! (Me: “...What do you think the heritage museum is actually for?”) After all, the Blasters’ success is more based on clout and rank than the actual things they walk away with. No one will notice if one or two nice things goes missing! Not to mention, if I’m not an official Blaster, I get to pick my OWN uniform!

I’m desperate. And you know what? This...sounds like fun. What if I just said “fuck it”? So I agree. (And mentally plan out a potential blue-and-black aesthetic for my villain career.)

I also agree to give Giovanni a ride over there, since he is seriously NOWHERE NEAR THE MUSEUM.

En route, since it’s my car, he gets to hear one of my car mixes (IRL I make killer car mixes that make riding in my car like playing Russian Roulette - you could get rock, you could get emo, you could get trashy pop, you could get video game music, or you could just get a meme). And so he learns about my music taste. He also starts grilling me on my life - what do I do for fun? Well, I...write. They’re not really publishable stories, but...

Giovanni: “It’s fanfiction, isn’t it?” Me: “GOD DAMMIT”

He also asks my name. Which he hates, because he graduated with seven Rachels, and I can’t blame him, because I graduated with four others.

We finally get to the museum and the rest of the squad has been waiting for like an hour. They know he got lost but aren’t about to bring it up. Giovanni announces that he’s bringing a friend today and I get to help out.

Now, it’s worth noting at this point that I noticed he was QUITE A HANDSOME FELLA from the moment he walked into the room through the hole he blew in the wall, and his quirks are exactly My Type. So I’m already starting to crush on him. But I am well aware that should NOT be ANY sort of priority right now. As for me? He just sees me as a new villain buddy! (He develops feelings for me later, at which point he’s horrified because “I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAVE A FAVORITE MINION!”.)

The other Blasters are just like “Okay, cool” because it’s really not strange at this point for Giovanni to pick up a stray (”How do you think we got Flamethrower?”). Ben is excited because now he’s not the only one who doesn’t have a cool minion name, but now Giovanni wants to give me one to spite Ben. “Hmm...let’s see...you’re a writer, so...Storyteller? Chronicler? No...oh, wait! You also like all that weird music! What about COMPOSER? See, it’s a double meaning, because it’s a music thing, but also, you COMPOSE stories...you...you get it? It’s wordplay.”

Composer. I like it. In return, even though Giovanni’s technically not my boss, I agree to call him Boss. (”And really, I may not be your boss legally, but I want you to think of me as a boss in your heart.”)

And we have FUN clearing out the museum. It’s a Sunday, so it’s closed and no one’s actually there, so we just have the run of the place. I get to take back a couple artifacts that Sweet Jazz history buffs on the black market will love.

At the end of the day, Giovanni is all excited for this new partnership, and he’s talking up how he’s going to meet up with me tomorrow to get my stuff appraised - can he have my number? Just to keep in touch? - and I have to discreetly drop him back off at the newspaper office so he can collect his Vespa and drive home. (Look. I know he does not, in canon, drive a Vespa. But he gives me the exact energy of someone who drives a Vespa, so in this ‘verse, he has one. Just rollin’ down the road like he’s on a motorcycle when it’s a fuckin’ scooter that just goes very fast)

Before I drop him off, though, he asks me if they’re gonna kick me out of my place due to me not having a paycheck that day. See, he doesn’t exactly understand how rent works. I assure him I have a due date. He tells me that I can totally crash at his and his mom’s place if I want; he’ll bug his mom into making up the guest room. Apparently she’ll be happy that he’s made more actual friends.

I joke that she would probably be fazed that he brought a girl home. He says that’s never been a concern. “Oh. Not into girls?” “No, I am. And guys. And a couple who weren’t either. The thing is, if my mom was gonna ban everyone I COULD end up being attracted to, she’d have to ban...EVERYONE. And then I wouldn’t be allowed to have ANY friends over.”

I drop him off, go back home...and hit breakdown #3.

What was I fucking thinking? I can’t be a supervillain. Especially not an independent contractor. I’m on the wrong side of the law for a living. This isn’t going to turn a profit...and that’s not even taking into account the trouble I’ll get in with the heat. I’m having anxiety, shakes, nausea, the whole works. Starting to think this isn’t worth it. Maybe starting to feel a little suicidal.

Crawl into bed. Barely sleep. Drag myself out of bed the next day to rendez-vous with Giovanni.

Just seeing him makes me feel...slightly better. He and I head off to a hidden locale to briefly confer with Ramsey Murdoch over my finds. (”Just don’t look him directly in the gross rat face.”)

Ramsey informs me I actually have some valuable stuff on my hands, recommends some buyers, makes an offhand joke about us being a “cute couple” that goes right over Giovanni’s head.

This doesn’t do much to reassure me. I still feel empty. Hollow. Afraid. But Giovanni, he SENSES this on the drive home. He can also tell I put in one of my most upbeat dance mixes to cover the sadness. So he pesters me until I tell him how I really feel...

And he refuses to leave me alone all day because a good boss doesn’t leave a minion who’s feeling that down on herself.

We end up back at his place. Start out by watching movies. I have to put up with him and his mom yelling at each other, but Ms. P. switches on a dime around me - “So glad you’re here, Sweetie. Giovanni could use more good friends like you. Good influences who will tell him NOT TO PUT HIS FEET ON THE LIVING ROOM TABLE GOD DAMMIT HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO GO OVER THIS WITH YOU GIOVANNI anyway, Rachel, can I get you anything? A drink? Some popcorn? Since MY RUDE SON DIDN’T ASK WHAT HIS GUEST WANTED WHEN SHE CAME OVER but you name it and I’ll get it for you.”

I’m still depressed. I cuddle up in a blanket. It’s hand-knitted. I mention that it’s super comfy. Giovanni takes it as a compliment, revealing that he made it himself. This leads to him parading a bunch of things he’s knitted in front of me - scarves, hats, etc. And I love every one of them. Oh, no, I am falling for this man and am also still depressed.

We end the day by plotting out my new villain attire. He’s good at sketching out patterns for clothes, so I give him an aesthetic to go for - blue, corset lacing, asymmetrical skirt, off-the-shoulder, is this too Disney villain?, you know what I don’t care, hey, that looks great! (Eventually he actually helps me put that monstrosity together)

He sticks around. I gradually become more confident in my element, making sales, stealing more things, getting comfortable with THE VILLAIN LIFE, actually turning up a profit because Ramsey knows where the market is and is glad to show me, and hanging out with the Blasters on a regular basis in an abandoned library we’ve taken over as our lair (Giovanni says the word “Lair-brary” once and immediately regrets it and asks us all to forget he ever combined those syllables).

And I’m happy. Finally.

Then one day, in the library lair that is not a Lair-brary, there’s some shenanigan and a bookshelf almost falls on me and crushes me and Giovanni tackles me out of the way because THAT’S WHAT ANY DECENT VILLAIN BOSS WOULD DO FOR HIS PRECIOUS MINIONS and oh. Oh my God. If I didn’t have a crush on this man before, I LOVE him now. Oh, no. Oh, no... ;-)

That’s pretty much the origin story. I’m still kind of nursing the idea of doing an AU version of this in TBTC, and I would probably still wanna use “busts into WRONG PLACE, sees Rachel being mistreated, takes her to rob a place to feel better,” and I hope it’s not tacky to copy the same device. But yeah, I hope that wasn’t the 15 minutes of your life you’ll never get back

[eeveedel]

Alex roughly eating louis that I'm all I'm sayin . Just a thought . I dunno . I haven't seen Dunkirk yet I'm gonna of spoilers

@celebratinglouis u send me the nastiest shit but also thank u. 

this is just…it’s porn. it’s angst and porn and feminization kink and poor coping mechanisms. also it’s written in like three different tenses. listen, I’m sorry. I hope you like it anyways, bc this is a concept I could write…more of. Also a few Dunkirk spoilers! 

————-

The train spewed steam, hot and compressed, behind him, and Alex still found the ability to push forward.

He hurt, and he couldn’t even identify where. His ears were ringing, and he’s only now noticing it. He thought his neck and his head might hurt, but then again, his wrist and his ankle might, too. It’s just everywhere. His eyes stung even though he was just asleep, his mouth tasted like warm beer and warmer water.

He blinked, and brought his hand up to his eyes, his other hand tightening on the strap of his pack. There’s no sunlight in the station, but he still feels like he should lift his hand, get a better view.

He’s standing there on the platform, three dimensions, full color. He’s wearing nearly the exact same thing he wore to the station the first time, the grey trousers and the brown braces and the big, open pale blue jumper that’s gotten paler, bordering on grey.

He’s the most beautiful thing Alex has ever seen. He’s the only beautiful thing he’s seen in a while.

Alex forced himself to take a few more steps, until he’s right there in front of him and he has to tilt his head down a bit to get a good look at him.

“Hi,” Louis said, and his voice was the same, raspy and Northern and soft, and Alex wanted to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him, dip him, spin him around like some of the other boys and their birds get to do.

But instead he just swallowed back the stiffness in his throat as Louis looked back at him carefully.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll get you home,”

***

The flat was the same, which is to say small and dirty, partly because both of them hate cleaning but mostly because it’s a place that was built dirty and will be destroyed dirty. Louis changed the sheets on their bed, and the bathroom at least looked decent. He offered to run Alex a bath but he refused, and instead used up the warm water they could spare filling the tub. Then he stripped down, leaving his dirt and oil soaked uniform on the tile floor. There was still oil and sand in his hair, around his nails, enough he wonders if it’ll ever wash out. He wonders how Louis could bear to kiss him once the door was closed.

When he pulled himself out of the bath, he saw that Louis had set out some clothes on the bed already, a pair set of drawers and an undershirt with the paper ribbon still on it, a starched overshirt folded neatly over top of it. Alex pushes the overshirt aside and just goes for the under things. He won’t be going out for a while.

He went back out to the kitchen, then, fully prepared to sit down at the table or to first fruitlessly offer to help Louis with something. But as soon as he was in the kitchen he stopped in the doorway, almost didn’t want to breath, just wanted to stay there and remember this, exactly, forever.

Louis was standing at the stove, the gas of the machine thick and hot in the air. There was a small carton of eggs next to his elbow, behind that, a paper bag of bread. His hair is the same, soft and getting too long, his lips poked out as he cuts a razor thin slice of butter into the pan.

He was wearing his slip. The silk ladies’ night slip that someone at the corner store probably still thought Alex bought for some bird. It looked beautiful on him, it always has, even if the silk is wore and the lace over his chest looked stiff and wrinkled and a little yellow. The slip fell to Louis’s knees, the thin straps clinging to the knobby bones of his shoulders, the rest of the fabric skimming over his waist, his hips.

He was thin. He’s always been little, but he’s thin, now, some of his softness chipped away by long nights and civilian rations. His knuckles stuck out a bit, his fingers look delicate while he cracked the eggs in the pan, lifted a fork to break them up.

“How long’s it been since you’ve had real eggs?” he asked. It took Alex a minute to answer. He can see every bone rotating in Louis’s wrist.

“A fair while,”

“You’ll get sick of them soon. Probably get sick of bread sooner,”

“I’m already tired of it,”

“Then we’re off to a good start,” Louis murmured. He pushed the eggs around, the bottoms sticking to congeal the pan and sticking.

Alex breathed in deeply and went over to him, then, putting his hands on him the second he could. He pulled the cool, slippery fabric of the slip up, got his hands on the swell of Louis’s behind.

“Missed you, babydoll,” he murmured into his neck, and Louis huffed, pushing an elbow back.

“Not now,” he sighed, “You’ll make me burn it,”

“You’ll burn it anyways,”

Louis huffed and jabbed his elbow back again, making Alex have to jump out of the way.

“Go sit down,” Louis said, “You want tea?”

“Sure,”

“I’ll put the water on after this, then,” Louis murmurs. He lifts his hand, wiping at his forehead. There’s sweat building there from the pure heat of the stove. The thin strap of his slip falls a bit and Louis grabs it, slips it back over his shoulder.

Alex used to think Louis had the kind of face that men won wars for. He probably told him as much at the station before he left.

Now he realizes how much it takes to win wars. He’ll have to come up with a new metaphor.

When Louis served him a plate, the eggs were dry and black in places and the bread’s not much better, but the tea was good and nearly milk-less, which is how Alex’s always liked it. Louis sat across the table from him, nursing a cup of tea of his own, and Alex kept glancing up at him as he ate.

“Come closer,” he muttered at one point around the egg and bread in his mouth, and Louis just shook his head.

“You eat,” Louis said easily, “You got skinny on me while you were gone,”

Alex’s throat immediately felt thick, since Louis looked worse off than he did, but he didn’t say anything, just cast his eyes back down and pulled more food into his mouth until the plate was clear. He drank down more tea, letting the food wash down, and then he brought his head right back up.

“Now come here,” he said, and this time Louis just nodded and stood, his slip shifting and falling easily back over his body as he went over and then cast himself easily on Alex’s lap, his legs sprawled on either side of the chair, his feet pressed to the floor.

“Hope this is what you wanted,” he said, and Alex could only nod, couldn’t even bring his hands up to grip him, not when his nails still had oil in them and Louis looked so clean.

Louis’s eyes were closed and he pushed forward, pressing a soft kiss to the swell of Alex’s Adam’s apple, then moved lowering, his lips brhsing the hollow of his throat.

Alex’s hands tightened on his waist as Louis kissed him. He wanted to wash away in the feeling, but he couldn’t, not when he had barely gotten a good look at Louis’s eyes earlier.

The boy he’d met on the mole, the one he had never bothered to ask a name for, had told him after the fact that the man with the blankets was blind, that it would make no difference with whether he looked up at him or not. But people at the first station had cast their eyes down, voices had flown like razors.

Them boys don’t deserve the Royal uniforms when all they did was wait for a pick up.

Alex swallowed roughly, blinking back the burning behind his eyes, and he squeezed Louis’s waist once, enough to get his attention.

“Can you look at me?” he asked, and Louis easily lifted his head. His eyes found Alex’s immediately, and they were soft and bright, a mirror of the smile on his lips.

“What do I look like to you?” Alex asked softly, and Louis snorted and draped his arms over Alex’s shoulders.

“What, you want a compliment?” he said, still smiling, “Just need someone to tell you you’re the prettiest thing since the Crown Jewels?”

Alex tried to swallow again, but he felt his face shift and harden, making Louis frown.

“Alex,” he said softly, “What is it?”

“I did some bad things,” he managed, and Louis shook his head.

“No, you didn’t,”

“I ran away,”

“You got evacuated,”

“I could’ve stayed,”

“Yeah, and then you would’ve been brave and dead in the fucking French sand and where would that leave me, huh?” Louis asked, and pushed forward, pressing their noses together, “Did you think that through?”

Alex licked his lips, “I’m sorry,”

Louis sighed and drew back, “Listen. I don’t know what it’s like out there. I got a heart that skips too many beats that keeps me here. But I know you weren’t gonna just run away for no good reason,”

Alex swallowed hard, shook his head, “I tried to kick someone off a ship. He was French. Didn’t even do anything wrong, I just didn’t want to die,”

“That’s a reasonable thing to want,”

“That’s fucking selfish,”

“Yeah. You’re selfish, I’m selfish. I would’ve forgiven the whole army dying if you wound up safe on my doorstep,” Louis said. His voice was hard, and Alex knew he wasn’t going to win this argument, if that’s what it even was. He never won any of their arguments. Louis had soft eyes and a hard head and those were tough to compete with.

Alex shook his head again and then tilted his chin down, looking at his own lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and Louis sighed and caught his fingers under Alex’s chin, making his gaze lift right back up.

“You’re home now,” he said softly, and Alex nodded.

“I know. I want to be home. I don’t want to think about that right now,”

Louis just looked at him carefully and nodded, shifting in Alex’s lap. As he moved, the strap of his slip fell down again, drooping to reveal more of his chest, a peaked, dusty nipple popping out.  He lifted his shoulder, pressing it nearly to his ear as he gripped the wrinkled silk, tried to pull it back up to cover himself. Alex caught his wrist, made Louis loosen his fingers.

“Don’t you go acting coy on me,” he said, making his voice as light as he could manage. Louis blinked, then shook his head, smiling at the change in his tone.

“How were the birds in France?” he asked, “They pretty?”

“Not as pretty as you,”

“Not what I asked,”

Alex swallowed, and then shrugged, “Sure they were. Didn’t get much more of them,”

Louis lifted his brows, tilted his head.

“Yeah? What about those eight-pagers you boys pass around?” Louis asked, “Find something you like there?”

Alex swallowed, “No,”

He’d seen them. Of course he had. They were more valued than water and yet shared far more easily. He’d wanked to a picture in one of them once, a girl with dark hair and some blue shorts and not much else. He’d just covered the top part, kept the image of flared hips and a round bum and just pictured a firm chest and a stubble-sprinkled chin over top.

He liked girls just fine. But girls weren’t Louis. Neither were other boys, for that matter. For Alex, there was just him. Just Louis.

Louis smirked, shook his head.

“You just waitin’ around for me then, huh?” Louis said, and Alex nodded, which only made Louis laugh.

“I’d forgive you if you did, you know,” Louis said, “Find a dame you like, have some fun. I’d let it go,”

“No, you wouldn’t,”

“Sure I would,” Louis smirked, in a way that meant he certainly would not, except when he was following through with what game he was playing, “Because I’m still your favorite girl, right?”

Alex blinked up at Louis, at his sharp face and his parted, dry lips and his eyes, so big on his slimmer face.

“Huh?” Louis prompted again, and then lifted his hands and pushed on his chest, the push of it creating a small line between his pectorals, peeking over the edge of his neckline, “Don’t have a great rack like the other girls do but you don’t care, do you, love? You always liked what’s on the bottom, anyways,”  

Alex licked his lips again, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

“You’d be right about that,”

“I know,” Louis smiled, then leaned forward, pushing his mouth firmly on Alex’s lax lips, “Come on then, handsome, you were all about that earlier, what’s the point of you having hands if you don’t put them to use?”

Alex lifted his hands, then, hesitating for a second. Louis gave him a sharp and expectant look, though, and then he pushed his hands forward and then back around. He gripped Louis’s bum in both hands, a thick swell under the slippery silk. Louis rolled his hips forward and Alex groaned shifting his own lap to meet him. His cock felt thick and hard in his drawers but he couldn’t get any friction on Louis, not when he was squirming around his lap.

“You got Vaseline?” he asked.

“Of course,” Louis scoffed, “You wanna be the one to go get it?”

Alex groaned, then shook his head.

“I got a better idea. Get up,”

Louis blinked at him but shifted himself, getting his feet flat on the floor and then lifting himself up until he was standing. Alex got up to, set his hands on Louis’s waist and then kicked at the chair behind him, giving them more room in front of the table. Louis’s gaze lifted, his eyes widening for just a moment before he looked back down and then turned, so his back was pressing to Alex’s front. Alex leaned forward, pressing his lips firmly to the side of Louis’s neck.

“Lean over,” he murmured, and Louis pushed himself closer to Alex’s touch but then leaned forward, setting his hands on the edge of the table. Alex pushed against the small of his back, his fingers barely getting traction against the slip.

“Yeah, come on, baby doll, show off for me,” he said, “You know you want to, wriggling around in your bed things like some call girl,”

Louis exhaled loudly and then pushed himself out, flattening his belly against the table and pushing his legs and hips out more. Alex got a hold of his hips and then roughly shoved up the back of the slip over the pale swell of Louis’s arse. His hands went right to his cheeks, then, and gave them a squeeze and then spread him out to see a tight hole and his pinkening cock and his swollen balls.

Alex lowered himself onto his knees, the tile of the kitchen biting his legs, and he nipped at the inside of Louis’s thigh. Louis yelped, high and strained, and Alex lapped over the pink mark on his leg before kissing it. He dragged his lips up the inside of his thigh, bit again at the soft swell of the underside of one cheek, which made Louis whimper a bit too loudly.

“We have neighbors,” Alex said a bit too firmly.

“I know,” Louis sighed, “Maybe they should put up with it. Nancy from upstairs got her husband back a month ago and I’ve had to listen to them try to make a baby every night since then,”

Alex laughed, pressing another kiss to Louis’s arse cheek.

“Could give you a baby if you wanted that,”

“Even if you could, I’d rather you give me whatever you’re planning back there,”

So Alex lifted his chin and pressed his mouth right to Louis’s hole, giving it a soft kiss that made the other man inhale sharply. Then he pushed in hard with the point of his tongue, keeping his lips hard and tight over the ring of muscle while he licked.

Louis twitched, his hips moving and pushing, and Alex flattened his tongue, lapping roughly a few times over his rim, keeping his hands tight on Louis’s thighs while he did. He lowered his lips, kissing the soft skin of his taint, and then lapped over the whole area, from the base of his rim to the very tops of his balls.

“Alex,” Louis exhaled, soft and sharp, “Alex, baby,”

He didn’t speak, mostly because he didn’t want to pull away. He kind of wanted to spin Louis around by his hips, get his cock in his mouth just to feel the weight of it, the way it perfectly filled his mouth without making his jaw too sore, so he could hold him in a place he could easily look up and see Louis’s face.

But when he brought his lips back to his rim, Louis gasped again, and it was enough to keep his mouth right there.

He kept his tongue pointed at firm, and he prodded at him, licking around his rim and the inside of his cheeks, then pushed straight into his hole like he was trying to open him up even without his finges. He’d flatten his tongue back out occasionally to lick broader strips over him, a few times he could put his tongue back entirely, kiss his hole and his taint and his balls. He lifted a hand, dragging it on the inside of Louis’s thigh, even reaching out to stroke at Loius’s length with his knuckles. He was hard, and leaking, and Alex’s own cock was thick and tight against his drawers, but he’d live if he could keep listening to the sweet, sweet sounds Louis kept making.

And then, suddenly, he had to pull away because Louis was crying.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked as he got back to his feet. Louis was collapsed fully on the table, his legs shaking and his head buried into his arms, and his shoulders were quaking. Alex touched his shoulder and tried to get him to turn over, and then went easily, his face pink and wet when he was finally on his back.

Alex opened his mouth to speak, to apologize or to at least ask if he was alright, but Louis beat him to the chase.

“I love you,” Louis gasped, “I love you, you understand me?”

Again, Alex tried to speak and he cut right in.

“Don’t you dare think it would’ve been better if you hadn’t come back,” Louis said, “I don’t care if they had to haul you out, you’re here now,”

Softer, he spoke again, “You’re here now,”

Alex nodded and leaned forward, hovering right over Louis.

“How am I supposed to leave you?” Alex murmured, “Pretty face like yours is what someone can dream of coming home to,”

Louis looked up at him easily, his face still so open, so forgiving, and when Alex spoke again, his voice was in danger of cracking and he didn’t even bother trying to swallow it down.

“I love you,” he said, “You’re the only person I’m ever going to love, baby doll,”

Louis gave him one more long, long look, and then grabbed his shirtfront and tugged him forward, narrowing his eyes as he did.  

“You listen to me,” Louis said, “You go into the bedroom and find the Vaseline, and then you’re going to fuck me. Alright?”

Alex nodded, and Louis pushed his chest, enough to make him stumble back and trip over his feet as he went to the bedroom, found the tin of jelly in the top shelf of their shared dresser before he rushed right back to the kitchen, took his place in front of Louis’s easily sprawled body.

He slicked him down and held down his wrists, thrust his hips forward into him until the table quaked and the top of Louis’s slip slid all the way down, nearly to his waist. Louis cried out, loud and high, enough that if anyone heard they’d probably think he was a bird. He didn’t take him long for him to tremble and for his cock to spill all over the edge of his slip, a couple droplets slipping off his sharp hips and onto the table. It’d be a bitch to clean up, especially the cold water and scrubbing Louis would have to put into getting the slip back into shape. But Alex couldn’t even care, because he was pushing forward, spilling into Louis, making the other man groan weakly and buck back. His face was slick and pink, his hair limp.

When he opened his eyes, they were dark and far off and shifting, like the waves of a sea Alex actually wanted to remember.

Louis reached out a hand, and Alex let Louis grab the back of his neck, draw him forward, kiss his lips softly and then drag a thumb over his cheek. Alex’s throat felt tight, and when Louis pulled back, he whispered carefully, his fingertips still lingering soft on his skin.

“Welcome home, Private,” he said, “I’ll make sure you want to stay,”