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mariacallous · 4 months ago

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When former US president Donald Trump announced a plan to establish a national “bitcoin stockpile” if he is reelected, the crowd at the Bitcoin 2024 conference in Nashville, Tennessee, erupted into a fit of celebration. The frontrunner in the upcoming election was speaking their language.

“For too long, the government has violated the cardinal rule that every bitcoiner knows by heart: Never sell your bitcoin,” said Trump during his speech on Saturday, pausing briefly to bathe in the applause. “It will be the policy of my administration to keep 100 percent of all bitcoin the US government currently holds or acquires into the future.”

The US government is reportedly sitting on upwards of 210,000 bitcoin—worth around $14 billion—seized from hackers and through various law enforcement activity. That stash, said Trump, would become “the core of the strategic national bitcoin stockpile.” Republican senator Cynthia Lummis, of Wyoming, later proposed legislation that would see the US government amass 1 million bitcoin under Trump.

Any stockpiling plan would benefit bitcoin owners, if only because it would stop the US government depressing the price of the cryptocurrency by flooding the market with its coins in a sale. Trump implied that stockpiling bitcoin, an asset considered by its proponents to be anti-inflationary by virtue of its capped supply, would also help the government to “end the inflation nightmare that this administration [led by Joe Biden] has created.” Senator Lummis later spelled out his thinking, saying, “We need to create a brighter future for generations of Americans by diversifying into bitcoin.”

But stockpiling bitcoin has little merit, economists say. “I see no [economic benefit],” says James Angel, an economist at Georgetown University specializing in financial markets. “The tangible benefit is that it will get bitcoin maxis to vote for Trump. If you believe in Trumpism, that would be the benefit.”

The idea that an investment in bitcoin will offset losses in spending power to inflation is contingent, says Angel, on two shaky assumptions: that the price of bitcoin will rise and, second, that the government would be able to at some stage sell bitcoin back into US dollars without tipping the market into a nosedive. “The government will push the price up by buying bitcoin, so it will look like it has made a lot of money, but the minute it actually starts to sell the bitcoin to take profits, it will push the price right back down again,” says Angel.

Though Trump is initially proposing a moratorium on selling bitcoin already in the possession of the US government, he loosely implied the US would increase the size of its position over time, too. If Trump were to expand the bitcoin stockpile, he would need to locate funds with which to acquire the additional coins. But the readily available options—to increase taxes, take on debt, or print US dollars—are incompatible with the ambition to drive down inflation and national debt, or pledges made by Trump to reduce taxation. Senator Lummis is reportedly set to propose that purchases be funded partly using money that will be added to the US central bank’s balance sheet after the valuation of gold stores is updated to reflect the going market rate. “The money has to come from somewhere,” says Angel.

Even if Trump were to restrict the reserve to bitcoin seized through law enforcement activity, his administration must also weigh up the opportunity cost associated with holding onto bitcoin. Whereas some assets such as bonds generate a consistent income stream for holders, bitcoin does not, making it expensive to hold.

“The question comes down to what the government would get out of the hoards of bitcoin it would be holding,” says George Selgin, director emeritus for the Center for Monetary and Financial Alternatives at the Cato Institute, a US think tank that promotes libertarian principles. The US government has periodically auctioned off the bitcoin confiscated through law enforcement activity. But in choosing to sit on the bitcoin it possesses, “it is failing to realize the market value, which it could apply to any number of other uses, from writing down the federal debt, to paying for other government programs,” says Selgin.

Though Selgin is a proponent of bitcoin for its independence from state control, he opposes the US government speculating on its price on behalf of citizens. “Governments are not particularly astute investors,” says Selgin. “Having the government act on behalf of citizens as some kind of investment trust or mutual fund doesn’t make much sense.”

During his speech in Nashville, Trump namechecked a range of high-profile bitcoiners, including Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, who founded crypto trading platform Gemini, thanking them for their guidance. Afterward, Tyler took to X to celebrate Trump’s plan and congratulate the organizer of the conference for having “orange-pilled” the former president.

But while it is popular with holders of large amounts of bitcoin and industry executives, the ambition to establish a bitcoin stockpile could come at a cost to most everyone else, particularly if the government were to expand its existing holdings, says Michael Green, chief strategist at asset management firm Simplify.

“The only possible way for the US government to buy bitcoin is from existing holders,” says Green. “But if the government uses tax revenues [or issues bonds] in order to buy bitcoin, it creates a situation in which the taxpayer is subsidizing an extraordinarily small subset. Ultimately, you’re talking about creating exit liquidity for a small subset of the population.” It would be like the US government promising to pay over the odds for real estate in California, says Green, but no other state. “This is not materially different,” he says.

The larger the government’s pot of bitcoin, meanwhile, the more beholden it would become to those who maintain the underlying network—the bitcoin mining companies—whose job is to process transactions and shield the network from attack. Effectively, the bitcoin mining industry would become “another special interest group,” says Green, “that the US government would have to step in and bail out” in the event that the sector—renowned for its sensitivity to various factors beyond its control—were to wobble.

Neither Trump nor Lummis responded to a request for comment on the criticisms made against the bitcoin stockpile plan.

Whether Trump intends to carry out the plan to establish a bitcoin stockpile is a separate question. “Trump is a master demagogue, appealing to the emotions of the crowd. It’s pure electioneering,” says Angel. “I think the plan will probably go the way of Trump Airline, Trump Casino, and Trump University.” That is to say, nowhere.

The members of the bitcoin industry were not blind to the fact that Trump was making a pitch for their vote. It is “historic” for Trump to consider bitcoin important enough to warrant campaigning around, says Jameson Lopp, an early bitcoiner and founder of crypto custody business Casa, who attended the conference. But “the way he spoke to us was pretty clearly pandering,” he says. “It felt like he was kind of speaking down.” Though Trump has previously dismissed bitcoin as a “scam,” he has now “realized that it can be beneficial to him,” says Lopp. “He can gain a new, potentially substantial bloc of single-issue voters.”

Trump was not the only person courting bitcoin fans with promises to take a semipermanent stake in the market. At the same conference, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who is running against Trump in the election as an independent, presented a more gung-ho plan: The country would acquire 4 million coins—practically 20 percent of the total supply—if he were president.

In that context, the pledges in Nashville were of greater significance as a signal, says Selgin, than for their actual contents. After a period under the Biden administration in which crypto businesses have been targeted, they claim unfairly, by regulatory bodies in the US, the pitches by Trump and others were an attempt to send the general message, says Selgin, “that bitcoin is no longer the enemy.”

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months ago

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Enough: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Inspired by this gif

Tagging: @kmc1989 @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc

References to Georgetown

Harm wakes up to the sensation of your fingertips trailing over the scars that line his back and shoulders. The sun is streaming through the gap in the blinds warming his skin as the lightweight sheets drape over his hips. He sighs contently, revelling in your touch. He’s missed mornings like this, ones where he wakes up along side you.

The worst part of the deployments are the mornings that he forgets. When he rolls over half asleep in his rig and reaches for you, only to find you absent.

Nobody has ever made him feel the way that you do, he’s never felt so loved or revered. He longs for that when he’s away.

“How long do I have you for?” You ask him.

There wasn’t time to talk about that last night, he’d got distracted by other things, undressing you, making love to you.

“Forever.” He says half seriously as he turns to face you.

He’d marry you tomorrow if you’d have him.

But you’re not ready for that yet.

He’s not sure you ever will be.

Your last husband had put you through the ringer, he’d manipulated you, cheated on you, made you think it was all in your head. That marriage had been a noose around your neck, slowly choking you to death. You’d barely escaped intact.

You’d both fallen into an easy pattern of landing wherever the other ended up until that point. He barely spent any time at the loft in Union Square, he was always wherever you were. New Orleans, LA, Hawaii, a memorable few months in Sydney. You’d been together three years when you’d decided to settle in Washington. Harm had never asked for it, it was a choice you’d made on your own volition. Washington was his territory, the place he called home. You’d ended up staying with him for a few days, that had turned into months and before he knew it the two of you were living in domestic bliss.

“Why don’t we look for a place together?” He had asked you one night when you were working at his desk, the one that had very quickly become yours.

It was then that you’d pulled out the listing for the house in Georgetown. You’d been trying to figure out a way to ask him about it for over a week. It was a sign that you wanted to take another risk with him, that you were willing to make a commitment.

“You don’t have to hide things like this from me.” He’d reassured you as he’d drawn you into his lap. “I want everything with you, as much as you can give me.”

“A house in Georgetown is the best I can do for now.” You’d told him, your fingertips ghosting along the line of his cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll ever…”

He’d kissed you then because there had been such uncertainty in your eyes and he’d wanted to chase it all away.

“It’s enough for me.” He’d promised you, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “You’re enough for me.”

He’d meant it then, and as he lies in bed with you and looks into your eyes, he wants you to know he still does now.

Whatever you’re willing to give, he’s honoured to have.

Love Harm? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#harmon rabb jr #harmon rabb #harmon rabb x reader #harmon rabb jr x reader #ncis los angeles #jag series #ncis la #harmon rabb x you #harm rabb #harm rabb x reader #harm rabb x you #harmon rabb jr x you

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coquelicoq · 6 months ago

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A Grants Pass city ordinance requires homeless residents living in vehicles to move every 72 hours, and police require anyone living in parks to move as often as is allowed by state law, which is also every 72 hours. City code bars anyone from sleeping in public spaces or using sleeping materials for the purpose of maintaining a temporary place to live under threat of criminal and civil penalty.

[...]

The Supreme Court’s decision in the case out of southern Oregon, expected in June, will broadly impact how local governments write homelessness policy in the United States.

Since the Supreme Court took up the case in January, Democrat and Republican governments, district attorneys and business associations submitted amicus briefs arguing a 2022 Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals injunction removes necessary tools for enforcing laws against homeless residents sleeping on public property.

A host of organizations submitted amicus briefs in support of counsel representing homeless residents, saying laws punishing individuals for being homeless are cruel and unusual. The briefs also argued the laws do nothing to solve the homelessness crisis and will likely exacerbate the issue.

[...]

Referring to the state law, Jackson asked about “constitutional avoidance,” a legal doctrine that would allow the Supreme Court to decline to render a decision on the constitutionality of the Grants Pass ordinance. Roberts appeared to also question the court’s responsibility, asking why “these nine people are the best people to judge and weigh those policy judgements.”

The lower court’s decision will stand if the court decides not to issue a ruling as a matter of constitutional avoidance. Kelsi Corkran, Georgetown Law Supreme Court director and counsel for the class of homeless residents, told the court she would have no issues with that outcome.

If the court determined the ordinance does not violate the Eighth Amendment because Oregon has a necessity defense, the burden of proof would fall on each homeless individual to show a court they were sleeping outside for a reason, each time they received a citation.

[...]

“Ending homelessness requires collaboration and buy-in,” Rabinowitz said. “That cannot happen when the government is focused on throwing away people's stuff and throwing folks in jail.”

Tickets can impact credit scores, making it more difficult for people to be accepted into housing, and a criminal history also creates significant barriers.

“All of these things break connections and displace people from their chosen communities,” Rabinowitz said. “They all make homelessness worse.”

There is a broad range for what the Supreme Court could ultimately decide, Rabinowitz said. It could uphold the 9th Circuit’s decision saying civil and criminal punishments against homeless residents for being homeless are cruel and unusual. It could say people can be fined but not arrested, or it could overturn Martin v. Boise. While there appeared to be little appetite for it in the courtroom, the court could go so far as to say it has wrongly interpreted the Eighth Amendment in cases like 1962’s Robinson v. California. That could make way for laws criminalizing other involuntary statuses.

Rabinowitz said in the best-case scenario, the Supreme Court will set a bar — albeit a low bar — saying homelessness cannot be criminalized. People still need a place to go, regardless of the court’s decision. Until the support systems are in place to keep people from becoming homeless, the crisis will continue, according to Rabinowitz.

“Homelessness is a choice made by our elected officials every day when they fail to fund housing,” he said.

8 May 2024

#this is from the paper that has been following this case for the past six years since it started #and that covers poverty and homelessness and social justice issues generally in portland and oregon #so as far as i can tell (confirmed by the scotus website) scotus hasn't made a decision (or decided not to make a decision) yet #but is expected to do so this month #homelessness #lawsuits #oregon #scotus #my posts

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halfagonyandhope · 18 days ago

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ignite the stars │ch. 9

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

The next morning, the lights to Ben’s office are already on when Satine arrives. Fighting the urge to see him immediately, she opens the door to her office first, discarding her coat and mittens and setting her bag on her desk. Smiling, she finds the contract they’d signed last night where she’d tucked it in the bag’s side pocket, and she transfers it to the book she’s currently reading, placing it next to her desktop computer.

She thinks she has a new favorite bookmark.

There’s a knock at the door with a peculiar cadence, and Satine looks up, knowing Ben will be there. She’s already smiling in anticipation when she meets his eyes.

“Madam,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb, and Satine’s heart nearly stops as she takes in his dress coat and tie, which is, she expects, exactly why he’d chosen that particular combination. She moves around her desk to greet him, and he hands her the steaming mug he’s holding. “I know you prefer coffee over tea, but I haven’t yet stocked your favorites in my office. I hope my usual tea will suffice for today.”

Struck by his gesture, she marvels over his ability to stay kind despite all he’s endured. But aloud, she says, “I should have figured Ben Kenobi’s office would be the barista station of the department.”

Glancing quickly over his shoulder to make sure the hallway is empty behind him, Satine then brushes her lips to his jaw in thanks, taking the mug as she steps back.

He grins, crossing his arms over his chest, and it ought to be outlawed for him to look the way he does. “The best part of getting tenure was realizing I could finally purchase the expensive electric kettle I’d been eyeing but had felt too guilty to buy.”

Satine sips her tea. “I bet you felt guilty anyway when you bought it.”

“You’re not wrong.”

She snickers, and footsteps approach from down the hall. A second later, Anakin appears in the doorway. Without preamble, he says, “How do you handle a student who’s using AI to do all their assignments? On one hand, the department technically doesn’t yet have a policy on AI use. On the other hand - ”

He looks at his prosthetic hand and chortles.

“If I had another hand,” he amends, and Satine has to set the mug on her desk to keep from spilling it as she shakes with laughter.

“I see what you did there,” she says.

“Crip humor,” says Anakin, grinning. “Anyway, part of me thinks if the students are smart enough to figure out how to use AI to complete the assignments, they deserve a good grade.” He turns to Ben, whose expression is not amused. “I’m guessing you don’t agree.”

Ben scratches his beard. “What I think is irrelevant if you don’t have some sort of policy about AI in your syllabus. Did you add it like I suggested at the beginning of the semester?”

“In fairness,” says Anakin, “I did consider it. But then Padma found out she was pregnant, and I forgot to do anything about that particular consideration.”

“You said the same thing about losing your PowerPoint remote, remember? While I am excited for you and Padma, you can’t keep using that as an excuse every time you forget something, Anakin.” And Ben gestures for his friend to step back so he can lead him into his office.

“Speaking of being happy for others,” comes Anakin’s voice as they disappear from the view of Satine’s doorway, “why does Satine have your favorite mug, Ben?”

Satine hears Ben sigh loudly.

“Anakin.”

---

Satine sighs loudly. “I fucking hate calculus.”

“Shhh,” says Ben. He rummages through his backpack to find a notebook and scribbles his reply.

No speaking on this floor of the library.

She glares at him.

This particular library has several floors, each successively quieter than the one below it. Satine and Ben are sitting on the ground, hidden amongst the stacks of books, calculus homework spread out around them.

Satine grabs the notebook from him and begins to write her reply. I shouldn’t have let you convince me to take this class. My brain just doesn’t work this way. Numbers and derivatives don’t make any sense to me.

And she shoves the notebook back at him.

Ben reaches for her homework, finding the problem she’s stuck on. He smiles.

“You’re close,” he mouths, and then he shifts closer to her so that their shoulders touch. As she watches, he erases a few strokes of her pencil and then adds a few of his own, and then he hands the paper back to her.

And suddenly, the problem is not a problem any longer, and it makes sense. Satine solves the rest of the problem, and she’s able to tackle the next one on her own. Then the one after that. She shows Ben the paper when she finishes, and he checks her work. He looks up a beat later, sending her a wide grin.

I knew you could do it, he writes in the notebook.

I’d still rather be working with ideas than numbers, she responds. He seems to understand that if she’d been speaking, she’d be grumbling.

The numbers aren’t important, nor is the calculus. Forget it after you get the AP credits. What’s important is the ability to solve problems. Take that with you.

He’s right, of course, but she doesn’t want to admit this.

He continues writing. You’re taking the class now so you can spend less time doing math in college.

Now that is a point she will acknowledge, and she leans toward him to press her lips against his.

She pulls back slightly, gesturing for the notebook.

You said no talking, she writes. So I’d like to propose an alternative means of communication.

He lifts a brow.

Satine sets the notebook to the side, pushing some of the strewn papers out of the way. Then she hooks a leg over his hips to straddle him, and her hands land on his shoulders. She grins at the way his hands instinctively land on her hips, at the tension in his jaw.

She takes her time, peppering soft kisses to his forehead, his brow, his cheeks, before making her way to his lips. She moves closer, and without thinking about it, without planning it, her hips grind into his.

Taken aback at the intense pleasure of the movement and eager for more, she repeats the motion. And then does so again.

“Holy fuck,” says Ben, and Satine covers his mouth with one of her hands.

Replacing her hand with her lips, she says into his mouth, “Shhh. No speaking on this floor of the library.”

---

On Friday, Ben appears at her office door five minutes before the afternoon seminar is about to begin, announcing his presence with the peculiar knock cadence she’s come to associate with him.

“Can I escort you to the seminar, Madam?” he asks.

“I can hardly say no to such an offer,” says Satine, shrugging back into her blazer. She locks the door behind them, and they make their way down the stairs and to the lecture hall below.

Most of the department is already there, and Satine and Ben sit in the back row of the hall. Ben pulls out the small writing surface attached to the side of his chair, between their two seats, and sets his notebook down. Satine smiles to herself. Because of course the man came prepared to take notes.

Dooku Serenno walks to the front of the room to introduce the speaker, and the hall quiets immediately.

“Welcome to the Department of International Relations’ weekly seminar series!” Serenno begins, his presence commanding and bold. “Dr. Derren Malek is a Professor of National Security Strategy at the National War College, but Georgetown’s Department of Government is fortunate to be hosting him this calendar year as a Visiting Professor.”

Satine glances at Malek, a man roughly Ben’s height and build, as Serenno continues with his introduction. Malek has dark hair, gelled into a somewhat spiky style, and his eyes are similarly dark. Satine leans forward as Malek steps into the spotlight to accept the floor from Serenno to light applause from the lecture hall, and as he raises an arm to gesture to the slide behind him, she tenses.

She’s seen his tattoos before, the ones peaking out from just below his sleeves, just barely visible near the proximal part of the back of his hands. He has similar, red and black circuit-like designs emerging from above the line of his suit collar at the back of his neck, extending into his hair - though it’s impossible to tell if the tattoos extend further over his scalp.

“What is it?” Ben murmurs, sensing her alertness.

Satine reaches for the notebook between them and opens it. Before she can ask, Ben offers her the pen from his breast pocket. Satine begins to scribble.

I recognize his tattoos. That man is an advisor to SecState, she writes, referring to the Secretary of State. I’ve never met him, but he’s part of SecState’s privy council.

She rotates the notebook back to Ben so he can read what she’s written. A beat later, he looks up at her, taking in her alarmed expression.

Ben gestures for the pen. Did he have something to do with what happened to you there?

And he turns the notebook back to her, handing her the pen.

Unlikely, writes Satine. I just wasn’t expecting to run into one of SecState’s council here. I thought I’d escaped that part of my life.

The handwriting of his reply is slightly shakier than what Satine knows his scrawl to usually be, but she tries not to dwell on it. Unlikely, but not impossible?

Not impossible, she admits, and Ben closes the notebook and sets down his pen. Instead, he reaches below the writing surface to find her hand. His grip is warm and reassuring, and he doesn’t let go.

---

After the seminar, Satine and Ben return to their respective offices to pack up for the weekend. As Satine reaches for her laptop and bag, placing the former within the latter, a dark figure appears at her door.

“Ms. Kryze.”

Satine straightens and holds Malek’s gaze. “It’s ‘doctor’, actually,” says Satine, one hand finding its way to her hip in frustration. “As you’d be able to tell if you’d read the nameplate on the door outside, Dr. Malek.” She breathes out. “I suppose it’s long past time for us to be formally acquainted.”

Hoping to keep any status that her desk provides her, Satine doesn’t move forward to greet him, instead staying behind the desk. She reaches over it to extend her hand, and Malek steps forward. to shake it His other hand rests upon her desk for a moment before he steps back, as if he knows exactly what she’d been trying to do - as if he’s deliberately moved to violate her space.

Satine frowns, suddenly glad she’d worn her heels today, as they give her about an inch of an advantage on the man.

“You and I certainly have similar career paths,” acknowledges Malek.

Satine’s suspicions that he’d intentionally misaddressed her are confirmed; if he knew her career path, he’d know of her doctorate.

“I hear you’re also here temporarily?” adds Malek.

She hates the way he draws out the last word, drawing attention to it.

Yes, she wants to scream. How fortunate that you get to return to the War College after your time here while I, as of yet, will be unemployed and potentially without a sponsor for my green card if God forbid I fail my citizenship exam.

Instead, Satine says, “Yes, a writing fellowship. I’m working on my next book.”

“I’ll be eager to read it,” says Malek. “As will the Secretary.”

Satine grips the edge of her desk. “The Secretary has washed his hands of me,” she says pointedly.

Malek smiles, but there’s no warmth to it. “Of course,” he agrees.

They’re interrupted by the cadence of Ben’s knock, and Satine looks at the door gratefully. Seeing her expression, Ben enters the room, already wearing his peacoat. “Dr. Malek, I found your talk on fascism particularly fascinating,” he says, extending a hand, forcing Malek to step back from Satine to shake it. “I’m Ben Kenobi.”

“You’re too kind, Dr. Kenobi,” says Malek. Satine notes the easy use of Ben’s honorific, and her eyes narrow at Malek, who now stands on Ben’s other side, as Ben has manipulated the space so that he is between Malek and Satine.

“I’m sure there will be opportunity for collaboration during your term here,” adds Ben, “seeing as your department is also housed in the Intercultural Center.” His tone makes clear than Malek is being dismissed.

The corner of Malek’s mouth twists up. “I look forward to it,” he says, and he takes his leave.

Satine releases a deep breath, and Ben waits for a moment before shutting the door behind Malek. “What the hell was that about?” he whispers, moving to stand next to her.

Satine tries to control her breathing. “He was sending a message,” she responds, her tone matching his. She runs a hand through her hair with shaky fingers.

At Ben’s blank stare, she elaborates.

“Malek wanted me to know that Secretary Palpatine is watching me.”

#satine kryze #obi-wan kenobi #star wars fanfic #obitine #the clone wars #alternate universe

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darkeyesunderthesky · 3 months ago

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i feel like josh would love this fedora and scarf section of the georgetown colorado welcome center

I know Josh is in a Facebook group with some middle aged wine moms, discussing the best places to buy scarves!!!!

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impala-dreamer · 8 months ago

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An Excerpt From My Latest Novel...

Instar Meditations by Rebekah Jordan

From Austin Macauley Publishers, available in paperback and ebook at Amazon and Barnes & Noble

Jason emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, his tanned body damp and shining from the water, hair slicked back and dark. A white towel hung low on his hips and he held it together with one lazy fist. He stepped into the room and Nora’s heart beat a little faster. He turned and went towards his suitcase and she lost track of the world around her as she focused on the flex of his muscular arms reaching for a shirt.

She moaned under her breath.

Jason’s head turned quickly and he caught her staring. “See something you like?”

Startled, Nora scrambled to pick the pen up from her lap and got back to her list. “Gross. No.”

Jason licked his juicy bottom lip and eyed her suggestively. “Gross?” he teased. “Come on, Nora. No reason to be a prude.” He turned towards her, smooth chest fully on display, and slowly lifted the white tee over his head, posing for her.

She scoffed and tried not to watch his abs tense as he moved. “I’m not a prude,” she snit. “I just…” Her mouth ran dry, all of the wetness inside of her body collecting between her thighs. She shook herself and cleared her throat. “Don’t flirt with me, OK? I’m not a bimbo from the gym or wherever you pick them up.”

Jason’s jaw dropped and he pushed his head through the shirt, popping back out with his hair a beautiful disaster. “I don’t pick up bimbos.”

Nora hummed in mock agreement. “Sure you don’t.”

He pulled the shirt down over his still-damp body, and it clung to his shoulders, showing off every line, dip, and muscle. “I don’t!” he defended. “The last chick I dated was the adjunct professor of English Literature at Georgetown.” He crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow, waiting to be vindicated.

Nora didn’t buy it for a second. “You made that up.”

He laughed. “I did.”

His smile made her heart jump. He was too handsome, too naked, too… there. Nora blushed as he stared at her, waiting. She bit her tongue to try and stay calm. “So, what did she actually do?”

“I don’t know, I think she was a barista?”

It was Nora’s turn to laugh. “You think?” He shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

Unsurprised, she set her notebook down and scooted towards him, creeping slowly over the bed. She leaned over her crossed legs and narrowed her eyes at him, glaring. “So... how is that dating?”

Trying to hide a smile, he pursed his lips, making deep dimples pop on either side of his upper lip. “I say date,” he explained cautiously, “but I mean-”

“Fucked and left?”

His jaw dropped and green eyes went wide. “You’re awfully judgemental, Ms. Hammond. When’s the last time you got any?”

She stammered to answer, cheeks burning, pulse racing. “It’s… it’s been a while.”

Long legs carried him to the foot of the bed and she could smell the heat beating off of him.

“A long while,” he said, voice dropping to a deep whisper.

She swallowed hard as he leaned down, terror and arousal flooding her system. She held her breath, afraid yet praying that he would drop down and grab her, lift her up into his arms, and fold her over as his tongue pressed into her mouth. “You’re so rude,” she breathed, unable to put any force behind it.

He chuckled smugly. “Hey, you started this…” Dark lashes closed slowly, brushing over his freckled cheek. He bent down, set his hands on the mattress, took a breath-

A loud crash from outside broke the moment, and both agents jumped to their feet, rushing over to the window.

Jason reached the camera first and zoomed in, checking on the rooms across the way. “Nothing,” he said finally, “just a dog.”

Nora noted the time in the log and turned her back to the window, crossing her arms and ankles as she perched on the edge of the desk, annoyed. “This is so fucking boring.”

Leaning over, Jason shot her a wink that could turn a desert into a rainforest. “I know a way to make it less boring…” His eyes trailed down to her mouth and his tongue shot out to lick at his cracked lips.

Nora exhaled loudly and growled. “Put that tongue away, sir,” she warned, “or I’ll shoot it off.”

Full Novel Available in paperback and ebook at Amazon and Barnes & Noble

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ramonaboat · 1 year ago

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More Alex Claremont-Diaz in NYU

Because if Casey was to write a book just about him navigating student life, having more of the college experience he didn’t get in Georgetown, while being Henry’s bf… I would read it hundreds of times over. So to fill in the need, I will supply my own headcanons

Alex gets a solid stable friend group throughout, and somehow he’s made friends with who many consider underdogs. One of them is the daughter of a plumber in NYC, who got into NYU for her undergrad under a full scholarship. One of them is a gay man who was disowned by his family, but is happily married now. His more privileged friends are more aware about the advantages they have and are not assholes about it. He himself is privileged guy after all

He does have classmates who he can sense want to use him for their own gain and social brownie points. His friends are protective about it

When it was apparent to the students that their friend group was a thing, all of a sudden the once underdogs became more popular just by association with Alex. Social climbers want in. Alex kinda feels bad about it but his friends reassure him

June and Nora are happy that Alex has friends from school and outside the Super Six

Alex’s NYU friends get close to Henry eventually, as the former hosts a lot of study sessions at the brownstone as soon as he’s sure he can trust them

Alex’s friends are fascinated by the fact that he can be so ordinary sometimes. Like yes, he’s a brilliant student, was summa cum laude for his undergrad, was a freaking prodigy, but he also gets toothpaste stains on his hoodie and forgets to shave his stubble when he’s busy. He also falls asleep in the library, waking up to one side of his curls flatter than the other. He trips and sneezes and makes mistakes and had to take several trips to the bathroom after insisting on eating his leftovers gone bad (he didn’t have time to get anything else that day, okay?) He was extraordinary but ordinary

They help him get through his fear of disappointing people, of always needing to prove that Alex Claremont-Diaz is deserving because of his own brilliance and not because of his parents (particularly his mother)

The friends also freak out when his Mom calls. They have moms that call them too but like.. hearing the President’s voice on the other line just talking to her kid and asking normal mother questions was a surreal experience. That they don’t quite get used to it.

For one of his friend’s birthdays he gives her an Apple Pencil, because she saved up to buy an iPad from her corporate job so she can annotate her readings from there but mostly used non-Apple styluses cause she didn’t have the budget for an Apple Pencil yet. When she received it she was shocked cause it was expensive for a stylus but Alex insisted. He doesn’t throw around his money, he doesn’t like to make his friends uncomfy with expensive gifts, but he knows when to help

They know Alex loves him when people genuinely don’t know things about him. There are loads of facts about him online and in the press, so when people ask him about things they know are out there and are public knowledge he gets excited. People often already know things about him, it gives him a semblance of normalcy

He still occasionally likes the spotlight though, he is ACD. He loves it most when he can use his influence to do good, like give spotlight to certain charities

He has a cool prof one semester that made them have a karaoke session during the last class. Used the class projector for it and everything. Alex sang London Boy and the class went wild

He once brings a tupperware filled with cookies to share. “My boyfriend baked them,” he said nonchalantly as if his boyfriend weren’t the Prince of freaking England. “He doesn’t have much kitchen experience but he’s been practicing and he’s pretty proud of this one” This was when his friends hadn’t met Henry yet so they were astounded

Eventually they get used to Henry making them tea, handing them drinks, serving them food (a lot of it takeout 😅)

Some study sessions end up being board game sessions, Henry’s included

Alex’s friends often tease him about how in love he is with Henry. Some fake gag when they’re being too sticky-sweet

Alex loves hosting dinners and study sessions and stuffing his friends. He knows a lot of them are struggling with scholarships and rent and jobs that barely pay the bills so he knows it helps them get their mind off a couple meals for the month. He also gets so much food that they all have leftovers to bring home and microwave for breakfast. He chalks it up not being good at estimating how much food they need, but really its his way of helping them. His friends catch on when they notice they always have their favorites ready.

This makes Henry love Alex even more

They discover Henry has a thing for when Alex uses legal jargon. They tease him about it. Henry threatens to throw them in the dungeon

His friends were once sharing horrible college dorm experiences. “Did you stay in dorms, Alex?” one of them asks even if they know the answer is now. “I, err, stayed at home” Home being the freaking WHITE HOUSE, one of them points out

His parents, June and Henry come during graduation. There was media coverage.

That’s it for today. To be honest with you I want to turn this into a fic in the POV of his classmates but I don’t have the time so let’s settle with this brain dump for now 😅

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb book #rwrb movie #rwrb alex #alex claremont diaz #alex nyu #law student alex #rwrb prince henry #prince henry of wales #prince henry #henry fox #firstprince #alex x henry

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doraambrose · 9 months ago

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Went to this super cool local comic store that was like 5 minutes from my house lol. People there were super chill and one even remembered my dad from when she would come in and would sometimes help around and they would compensate her with a free comic book. It was way cheaper for me to buy my favorite series from there than buying Ultra on the DC. Anyone from Fort Wayne, I encourage you to visit Book, Comics, and Things in Georgetown!.

#jason todd #batfam #red hood #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #dc universe #dcu #dick grayson #nightwing

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nightmarish-fae · 2 years ago

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professor blake (alex blake/academic!reader)

a/n: I originally wrote this little one shot as a request for @prentiss-theorem. I usually don’t feel very comfortable with sharing what I write, but I have been badgered (lovingly), so here we go. I am not a native English speaker, all mistakes are mine.

pairing: alex blake x reader

genre: silly fluff

warnings: swearing

word count: 767 (one-shot)

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It was fun, sneaking around with Alex. Not that you were really sneaking around - neither of you needed or wanted to keep your relationship a secret. All the important people in your life knew. But neither of you quite felt the need to tell your colleagues and students at Georgetown when you started seeing each other and eventually, it just slipped your minds. And then, it became sort of a game, seeing just what you could get away with and laughing at how confused people could get trying to put two and two together over shared dinners and glasses of wine.

You couldn’t be happier. When you took the position of Latin professor at Georgetown, you didn’t quite expect the impact the position would have on your life. On your first day, you managed to bump into a fellow professor and spill your coffee on both of you, which, in turn, made you burst into tears. It might not have been an entirely appropriate reaction, but the stress and terrible previous work experience made it too much for you to handle.

Even so, it turned out to be one of the best things to ever happen to you. The woman you managed to get your coffee all over, a linguistics professor Alex Blake, blew your breath right away. She was gorgeous. And smart, funny and ridiculously kind. You found out very quickly, because she insisted that the coffee related mishap was her fault, soothed your tears almost immediately and persuaded you to let her buy you another coffee. You knew, on that first day, right after you parted ways, that it was either this woman or no one else.

And you were right. You continued to bump into each other, which in turn evolved into planned meetings when you found out just how much you had in common.

It was easy, falling in love with her. It was easier than breathing. And, by some strange sort of miracle, she fell for you too.

That’s how you ended up cuddling her in your shared bed, in your shared apartment, with a ring on your finger and a cat curled on the bottom of the bed. Sometimes, you felt like crying from how happy you were. It wasn’t all easy. Her FBI job led to late night, dangerous situations and countless arguments. But both of you pushed through, determined to do better for the other one.

“What is going on in that head, huh?”

Alex snapped you out of your train of thoughts, handing you your coffee mug along with a kiss to your forehead. It was your first day back to work after returning from your honeymoon and while neither of you were quite ready to burst the bubble, there was also fun to be had.

“Nothing, just thinking how lucky I am to call you my wife.”

That earned you the sweetest possible kiss, carefully pressed to your lips while those clever hands cupped your cheeks.

“Sweet talker. See you for lunch?”

You simply hummed in response, heading for your lecture with the goofiest smile possible plastered on your face. It was impossible to get rid of. And what made the whole thing even better was what was about to follow. You and Alex made a bet. She insisted it was impossible no one knew about the two of you. You in turn, insisted that the name change was going to come as a shock. The stakes were high, but you knew you had this. Alex overestimated the intelligence of university students.

It was exactly as you presumed. As soon as you walked down the steps, facing your class, a wave of confusion rose.

“I thought Professor Blake was meant to be teaching this class.”

You only leaned back and looked at your nails.

“Well, yes. That’s me.”

Trying not to laugh was almost an herculean effort. Their poor little confused faces as they tried to put two and two together filled you with joy. Eventually, they succeeded and you thought you heard what sounded suspiciously like ‘lucky bitch’ coming from one of the girls closer to you.

“I am indeed lucky, thank you very much. Not sure about the bitch though. Now, because you all managed to score me a weekend getaway with my wife, there will be no pop quiz next week. For the basics…”

As you droned on about the syllabus, your eyes flicked towards the door. It was open and Alex was standing there, leaning against the frame with a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her laughter.

Life was good.

#Criminal Minds #fluff #criminal minds evolution #Alex Blake #dr alex blake #ssa alex blake #alex blake x reader #alex blake x yn

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insomniac-jay · 1 month ago

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Angel Members Lore Dump

Maya was born in Georgetown, Guyana. While she wasn't necessarily rich, she was well off and grew up comfortably. Marlon and Tamera Harrison, her parents, were both educators; a piano teacher and university professor respectively.

Maya Harrison

She loved music from a young age. Maya began teaching herself how to play various instruments, starting with the piano, and to sing. Then she began writing and composing her own music. The next instruments she taught herself to play were the guitar, violin, and flute. She joined her school's orchestra while continuing to be a pianist. By the time she reached high school, she was considered a prodigy.

Inspired by Donna Knightley to pursue music as a career, Maya started as a backup vocalist for various singers. She also did competitive piano and posted videos of herself singing covers of her favorite songs on the Internet.

Stellaluna Ricci

Stellaluna was born in Florence, Italy to wealthy parents Kwame and Eniola Ricci, a former footballer (soccer player) turned entrepreneur and music producer. Her father is of mixed Italian and Ghanaian descent while her mother is Nigerian. Her and her sister Sole were raised to be debutants.

As such, Stellaluna grew up to have a number of skills including ballet, equestrianism, and most importantly: singing. The last one was her most favorite. Her original dream was to be an opera singer. She started singing with her church's choir before moving on to local singing competitions. Stellaluna also sang for commercials and advertisements.

She began writing her own songs, hoping to perform them one day.

Audrey Laurens-MacDonald

Audrey was born in Queen's. Gillian worked as a plumber and her mom Ke'Ana worked at a deli.

Before she became a singer, Audrey wanted to be a rapper. She started rapping at 12 and performed at school talent shows, amateur nights at local music venues, and other places. She based her style off of characteristics of drill and battle rap as well as elements of hip hop.

In high school, her and few friends formed a music group called FFF (Fierce, Fabulous, Famous) under the name OG Audrey. However, she needed to learn how to sing since it was going to be a pop group. She got singing lessons from her school's music teacher. Audrey left FFF shortly before becoming a member of Angel.

Kamala was born in Bombay, India as the middle child of four girls. Her father Darshan was a chef and her mother Ishani was currently working as an accountant.

Kamala Singh

She kept her love of music hidden because she thought her parents wouldn't approve. She was mostly fascinated by electronic and synth. Part of her free time was spent watching videos on how to play the keyboard. Kamala used some money she got from relatives to secretly buy a keyboard (which is the one she still uses to this day) to practice.

Kamala's musical talents were eventually discovered when she played at one of her cousin's weddings. Everyone was shocked but enjoyed her performance. She confessed to her parents that she wanted to be a musician and that she hid this from them because she thought they wouldn't approve. Her mom said it was fine as long as she got to be in charge of her finances.

Shauna Black Crow

Shauna was born in McAllen, Texas to singers John Black Crow and Maria Sofia Black Crow.

She was a member of the Black Crow Family Band, consisting of her, her siblings, parents, and a few aunts and uncles on her father's side. Essentially she was a child star before she was a child star. Shauna played the guitar with her older sister Dove and brother Eddie. She stayed with the band for a long time until she joined Angel. In high school, she joined her school's mariachi band to expand her musical range.

Being a big star based on her own merits and talents was always her dream. She grew frustrated with her and her siblings being known as just John or Maria Sofia Black Crow's children and vowed to become a big star.

Tsubaki Chisaka

Tsubaki was born in Kumamoto, Japan. Their parents, Hachiro and Toyoko, were members of the Catholic church. Hachiro worked in finance (red flag) while Toyoko was a stay at home mother.

Unlike the others, Tsubaki didn't consider music as their career choice. In fact, it started out as just a hobby to them. They sang in the choir for a bit before Toyoko pulled them out. They didn't really like the music they had to listen to, especially in the years leading up to their parents' divorce and their own pessimistic feelings towards the church. But because worldly music was banned in their home and they weren't allowed to have their phone outside of school or errands (another red flag), they didn't have any access to other types of music.

Tsubaki discovered grunge music through an American cousin (who was also in a band stay with me here I'm slowly building the celebrity world) who also taught them how to play the bass guitar. They were taken to their first garage concert after Toyoko and Hachiro sent them to stay with an aunt for the summer. Another thing they were exposed to was queer culture.

#angel

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lostloveletters · 7 months ago

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do you have any headcanons for married life bucky and holly? i love what you’ve written for them so far it sounds like they have a lot of fun together😍

YES! I am constantly thinking about post-war Bucky and Holly, they’re so fun! HCs are below the cut.

Bucky is definitely the “standing in the living room while watching sports” type of dad. You know what I’m talking about. Anyway, the Egans have season tickets to Nationals games. Bucky shows the fuck up when they play the Yankees. Holly gets kind of annoyed when he switches out Henry’s Nationals hat for a Yankees one in the parking lot before they get into the stadium.

Incredibly enthusiastic Little League parents (which you can read more about here!)

Bucky and Holly rent a townhouse in Georgetown that serves its purpose while it’s just them and Henry. When Holly’s pregnant with Cindy, they move to a suburb outside of DC, probably Arlington or Alexandria, and buy a bigger house. It’s beautiful, pretty much everything Holly ever dreamed of.

They throw the best parties. This is the Jell-O mold era. The questionable recipes in women’s magazines era. The themed party era. Everything’s colorful and tacky and probably in poor taste, in retrospect. Bucky can still out drink anyone but he tries to rein it in for the kids. The singing almost always gets out of hand, though. Don't even get him started on 'Happy Birthday'. Holly takes photos of everything (Are they always in focus? No. Do they still go in the photo albums? Yes.)

For the most part, Holly’s a stay-at-home mom. She’s super involved in the kids’ extracurriculars and enjoys dedicating the time to her family. Once both kids are in school full-time, she probably starts volunteering at the National Air Museum to keep herself busy. Bucky loves that for her🖤

They start a lot of traditions together! Going to the Cherry Blossom Festival in the spring. Definitely vacation in Ocean City or Virginia Beach during the summer. Maybe they take a train up to Manhattan around Christmastime for a long weekend, especially when they have kids (and Bucky actually gets to see New York lol).

Between Holly calling Woody, and Bucky calling Buck, and Holly and Bucky calling each other when Bucky’s away, their long-distance phone call budget is high, to say the least. That’s including the phone sex🤭

Toeing the line of obnoxious when it comes to PDA. God forbid a married couple actually like each other...

#ask tag #insp: i gotta keep you on my roster

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xtruss · 2 months ago

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The Real Ancient Roman Plot That Inspired 'Megalopolis'

Historians characterize the Catilinarian conspiracy as the beginning of the end of the Roman Empire—which director Francis Ford Coppola compares to modern-day America.

— By Gregory Wakeman | September 26, 2024

The Roman Forum was a hub for ever day ancient Roman life. It was here that Cicero delivered a famous speech denouncing Catiline in 63 B.C. Photograph By Andrea Frazzetta, National Geographic Image Collection

Francis Ford Coppola has been working on his epic sci-fi fantasy drama Megalopolis since the early 1980s.

Fresh off the success of Apocalypse Now, Coppola became fascinated by the story of Lucius Sergius Catiline, who in 63 B.C. sought to forcibly overthrow the consuls of the Roman Republic, co-led by Marcus Tullius Cicero. This attempted coup d’etat is known as the Catilinarian conspiracy.

Coppola wanted to set the conflict of two ambitious men with very different ideals in modern New York, so that he could draw parallels between the beginning of the end for the Roman Republic and the contemporary United States.

At a Q&A in New York before the premiere of Megalopolis on September 23, Coppola remarked, “Today, America is Rome, and they’re about to go through the same experience, for the same reasons that Rome lost its republic and ended up with an emperor”

Coppola was so adamant about highlighting the similarities between the Roman Empire and U.S. that he named the film’s leading characters after Catiline and Cicero.

In Megalopolis, Giancarlo Esposito plays Mayor Franklyn Cicero, who runs the decaying city “New Rome” and clashes with idealistic architect Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver). When Catilina is given permission to rebuild the city using Megalon, a material that allows him to control space and time, he recruits Cicero’s daughter Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel) to make a sustainable utopia.

A painting by Italian painter Cesare Maccari portrays Cicero denouncing Catiline in the senate. The conspiracy to overthrow Cicero inspired Francis Ford Coppola's film Megalopolis. Photograph By ICOM Images/Alamy Stock Photo

Why Cicero And Catiline Were At Odds

The Roman version of Cicero was “a new man, meaning, he was the first in his family to enter Roman politics,” explains Josiah Osgood, professor of classics at Georgetown University and a specialist in Roman history.

Catiline was a patrician from a distinguished family. He had fought alongside Roman general Sulla, helping him win Rome’s first major Civil War, before then rising through the political ranks.

In 64 B.C., Catiline stood to become one of Rome’s two consuls. The highest elected public positions in the Roman Republic, the consuls served one-year terms and were elected each year by the Centuriate Assembly. Accused of corruption, Catiline was defeated by Cicero.

“Normally, a new man wouldn't win the consulship,” adds Osgood.

An embarrassed and desperate Catiline ran for consulship again in 63 B.C. “By now he and Cicero were sworn enemies and Cicero did everything he could to stop Catiline,” says Osgood.

Catiline’s campaigns had also left him in debt.

“Roman elections were extremely expensive because they were extremely corrupt,” says Edward Watts, professor of history at the University of California, San Diego. “They required you to borrow a lot of money and outlay a lot of cash to try to buy support from people. The idea being you win the consulship, you can then get a command somewhere or govern a province, then make that money back. But if you lose, you're screwed.”

What made these defeats even worse for Catiline is that, in that period, “some older families with a deep history had fallen on hard times,” says Richard Saller, an American classicist and former president of Stanford. “Catiline resented new upstarts like Cicero, who he was having a hard time keeping up with financially.”

How Was Catiline Defeated?

With Cicero backed by wealthier Romans that lent out money to make their own income, Catiline adopted a more populist and radical message, insisting that he would cancel debts and relieve the debt crisis. When Catiline lost another election, he retreated to northern Italy, formed an army of veterans from the first Civil War and farmers in debt, and planned to march on Rome so that he could become consul by force.

But in January 62, B.C., he was defeated by the Roman Republic in the Battle of Pistoria. Roman historian Sallust would write that “Catiline was despicable, a real menace to the Republic, who represented all that was wrong with Rome” because of his pursuit of demagoguery, says Osgood.

With Megalopolis, Coppola focused on Catiline’s ambition to release the lower classes from debt in order to make him a sympathetic figure. In his director’s statement for the film, Coppola explains, “I wondered whether the traditional portrayal of Catiline as ‘evil’ and Cicero as ‘good’ was necessarily true … Since the survivor tells the story, I wondered, what if what Catiline had in mind for his new society was a realignment of those in power and could have even in fact been ‘visionary’ and ‘good’, while Cicero perhaps could have been 'reactionary' and ‘bad’.”

Saller acknowledges that accounts of the Catilinarian conspiracy are “Cicero centric” and “from a historian’s point of view there are reasons to think there are biases.”

In 1969, Robin Seager argued that “Cicero really manufactured the conspiracy and drove Catiline to violence, but his view is not broadly accepted,” adds Saller.

Coppola’s Message For A Modern Era

After the Catilinarian conspiracy, Cicero was briefly driven into exile because of how he administered justice to members of the coup, in particular killing associates of Catiline without a trial. The conspiracy exposed how extensive poverty and debt was in Roman society, created a climate of paranoia in the Senate, and is ultimately regarded as the first step to the Civil Wars that ended the Roman Republic and built the Roman Empire.

Both Watts and Osgood can see some similarities between the late Roman Republic and the current political rhetoric of the U.. ] “I think there’s been a significant loss of trust in the integrity of systems,” says Watts.

But Saller remains skeptical about such parallels. “The constitutional situation in the U.S. and Rome are very, very different. One of the things that Rome did not have was anything like our Supreme Court. Whatever problems we may think we have with our current Supreme Court, the Roman Republic had no institutional way of resolving differences between leading senatorial generals in their contest for power.”

Ultimately, Esposito believes that Megalopolis is a cautionary tale: “There's a line in the movie, ‘Don't let the now destroy the forever.’ That’s such a powerful thought to have right now. The film is a call for hope, for us to think larger than just ourselves.”

#History & Culture #Amcient Rome | Italy 🇮🇹#Battlefields #Violence #Governments #Movies 🎥

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halfagonyandhope · 16 days ago

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ignite the stars │ch. 10

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

---

Satine leans back against her desk, not quite trusting her ability to remain upright without an anchor. Ben drops his bag at the door and steps toward her. “The Secretary of State is keeping tabs on you?”

She looks up at him. “It appears so.”

He looks around as though hoping he’ll find answers in the air around them. Eventually, he asks, “Satine, why did you leave the State Department?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you,” she whispers, wishing she could convey everything in a glance, without words. But that would still be bringing him into the game, and she’d never jeopardize him by involving him.

Ben scrubs a hand down his face. “Satine.” He takes a step back, turns quickly, and paces across her office. The only other time she’s seen his emotions so clearly on display was two days ago, in the library, so rarely do his feelings bubble over the surface.

He stops, facing her.

“Are you in any danger?”

Depends on your definition of the word ‘danger’, she thinks but does not say aloud. But judging by his expression, he’s guessed her thoughts.

“Satine,” he says again, stepping to her and placing his hands on her elbows. “What is going on? Please. Please.”

She places a hand on his chest and pushes him back firmly. “Ben, if you have any respect for me, if you care for me at all, you will not pursue the answers to those questions. You will not even ask those questions.”

His face falls, and Satine hates that she is the reason.

“You said whatever I am going through - it is mine,” she reminds him. “At least for now. So I’m asking you to keep your word.”

There’s a sharp rapping at the door. “Kryze! Is Kenobi in there with you? Vos and I are about to head out for drinks.”

“One moment!” yells Satine, glancing at the door and then back at Ben. She lowers her voice. “Promise me, Ben.”

“Satine - ”

“Promise me.” Her voice is nearly a growl.

He nods sharply. “I promise.”

She brushes past him, but he reaches at the last second to grab her elbow, turning her back around. “Satine, I - ”

“I know,” she says, but she doesn’t, not really. She just doesn’t have the bandwidth to respond further. So, instead, she moves to the door to open it. Ventress and Vos are on the other side, and they exchange a look upon noticing that Ben had been with her behind closed doors.

But then Ventress takes a closer look at Satine’s face. “Change of plan, boys,” says Ventress. “Vos, take Kenobi. Kryze and I are going out.”

“Beg pardon?” says Satine, her head snapping up to look at Ventress as Ben helps her shrug into her jacket. Ben’s fingers linger a fraction of a second too long at the nape of her neck as he pulls her hair out from the coat, letting it fall softly on her back.

“You heard me,” says Ventress. “Kenobi, hand her her bag, and let’s get going.”

Satine sends Ben a helpless look as Ventress’ cold hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her out of the office. Ben flips the lights off as he steps over the threshold of the door, and the trio wait for Satine to lock up behind her.

“Come on,” says Ventress, and she leads Satine away from Vos and Ben, Vos shrugging, clearly used to such behavior. Ben hasn’t managed to wipe the quizzical look from his face as Satine and Ventress disappear from view.

Ventress pulls her into the elevator, and she requests a taxi on her phone. “I know a place,” she says, laughing at Satine’s wide eyes. “I’m buying you a drink.”

The elevator door closes in front of them.

Ventress adds, “You look like you need one.”

---

Half an hour later, they step out of the taxi in front of a donut shop. “They sell drinks here?” asks Satine, not bothering to hide her confusion.

Ventress just laughs again, and Satine follows her inside.

In the entryway, there’s a small District flag hanging from the corner. Ventress pulls on the flag, which appears to be attached to some sort of pulley device.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a speakeasy,” says Ventress. When Satine says nothing, she rolls her eyes. “Academics. You all don’t get out enough.”

Then the wall by the flag starts to move, sliding a few inches, and a young woman’s head pops out. “Two?” she asks, and Ventress nods. The door opens further, and she gestures Ventress and Satine inside.

She shuts the door behind them.

Satine’s eyes adjust slowly to the stark contrast in lighting between the donut shop and the speakeasy. Where the donut shop was bright, lit with neon colors, the speakeasy’s lighting is soft, filled with small light fixtures, and much of the actual room itself is dark. From what Satine can make out, it appears to be a converted garage, filled with eclectic and antique leather chairs and old tables, and string lights hang on the walls.

The hostess says, “Table or bar?”

“Bar,” says Ventress, and the hostess leads them around the tables.

The bar is more lit, with backlights lining the shelves behind it, making the bottles of alcohol stacked there look like they glow in the dark. Ventress sits immediately on a barstool, hooking her coat underneath the bar’s countertop, and Satine follows her lead.

Satine does a double take, checking again to confirm she’s seen correctly.

“There are no men here,” she murmurs.

“Even owned by women,” says Ventress. And she grins and flags the bartender over. She orders a vodka, and then she looks at Satine.

Satine examines the bottles on the wall behind the bartender. “Whatever you suggest mixed with brandy.”

The bartender lets them watch her prepare their drinks, and Satine is hit with the significance of a woman-owned bar, of a bar whose patrons are not men. Some of the tension leaves her shoulders.

Ventress seems to notice. “Want to talk about it?” she says, thanking the bartender as she sets both drinks in front of them.

Without hesitation, Satine reaches for hers. “What do you know about Malek?”

Ventress sips her vodka. “Never to be alone with him. If Malek ever stops by again, make an excuse and leave immediately. You’ve got Kenobi’s office next to yours, so literally rap on the wall if you don’t feel comfortable slipping past Malek. If Kenobi’s not in, Vos is on your other side - do the same and he’ll be over immediately.” She reaches for a napkin and then asks the bartender for a pen. Scribbling on the napkin, she says, “This is my cell number.” She writes another number below it. “And this one is Vos’. Text us both if he ever shows up again.”

She slides the napkin over to Satine.

Satine nods and slips the napkin into her pocket. “How did you know Malek stopped by my office?”

“Vos and I saw him leaving. That, and your expression after was a giveaway.”

“Do you know about him from…personal experience?”

Ventress swirls her drink around. “Luckily, no. But I was warned, just like I’m warning you. Just like we now need to warn all the graduate students.”

Satine runs her hand through her hair. She understands the implications, the undertones, of Ventress’ warning without her friend needing to elaborate. “And here I was, already worried about him professionally. Now I have to worry about physical danger, too.”

“He didn’t visit your office to make a sexual advance?” asks Ventress, surprised.

Satine shakes her head. “It was an academic threat, connected to my time at State.”

Ventress swears. She leans in. “Listen, that man has been passed from institution to institution in the past few years, and there are more stories than I’d care to count about the women’s lives he’s shattered as he moved. Whatever he can do to you professionally, your immediate concern is to physically stay as far away from him as possible.”

Satine takes a deep drink. “Is it the usual? No woman is safe enough to testify or come forward? Each university covering their own ass, just grateful to get rid of him so that he’s no longer their problem?”

“Why do you think he’s been sent away from the War College?”

Satine sighs. “I’m going to need another brandy,” she tells the bartender.

As the bartender makes the drink, Ventress says, “While in the taxi, I texted Vos to brief Kenobi so that he knows all this as well. He’ll keep an eye on your office, which means that between the two of them, you’ve basically got your own Secret Service team.”

Satine blinks at her, and Ventress chuckles.

“Vos very nearly played professional rugby in Samoa, but decided he’d rather have a full-ride scholarship to play American football at Berkeley instead. He’s also an expert in Limalama, which is a Samoan type of self-defense. And Kenobi was an Army Ranger. He didn’t tell you?”

Satine finishes off her first drink and reaches for her second, murmuring her thanks to the bartender. “I thought he was a military translator.”

“I imagine his Arabic was probably used during some of his missions, so that wouldn’t technically be a lie.”

Satine pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, contemplating this. It’s not as though she’d directly asked Ben about his time in the military; she’d made her inferences based on casual Google searches. “I haven’t exactly been forthright with him about my professional life,” she admits finally. “I can’t complain if he acts similarly.”

“He’ll tell you,” says Ventress, and there’s no mistaking the sureness of her tone. “It may just take a while. I don’t know the details, but I imagine he saw some fucked up shit.”

“Him and me both, then,” Satine says, taking another drink.

“Speaking of him and you,” says Ventress. “You appear to have gone from it’s complicated to it’s officially complicated in the span of one week.”

Satine nearly spills her drink all over the top of the bar. Ventress smirks at her.

“That would not be an inaccurate assessment of our relationship status,” says Satine.

Ventress takes another sip. “Progress is progress,” she says, grinning.

---

Satine is getting ready for bed when her phone lights up with a text from Ben.

Text me so I know you’re home safe.

She sits on her bed in the dark, reading the words several times, a rush of warmth flooding through her with each pass.

I’m back safe and sound, she responds.

She sees the ellipses that indicate he’s composing a reply, and she waits until the words come through.

Quinlan told me about Malek. We compared our schedules and he’s going to make sure he’s in his office next to yours whenever I teach so that someone is always there.

Satine has to lock her phone after reading this, and she tilts her head back, willing the tears not to fall. Ben’s words from the library echo in her mind: You don’t have to do everything alone, Satine.

The light returns, indicating she’s received another text.

Are you okay?

Oh, how to respond to that.

Finally, she decides on: I’m a little shaken, if I’m being honest.

His reply is immediate. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.

Fair, she replies. And then: How was your night out with Vos?

His response takes a little more time. You mean how is it still going? We’re still out, and he’s getting another round.

Yes, she replies. I clearly meant: how is it still going?

Satine pulls her knees to her chest, hugging herself tightly, as another text from Ben comes in.

That man is not affected by alcohol whatsoever. My tolerance is far lower.

Satine lifts a brow. You’re drunk, she texts in realization, laughing. She laughs harder when she realizes that despite his inebriated state, his texts still have impeccable grammar.

Very, he replies.

I’ve never seen you drunk, she says, her thoughts wandering. You were such a golden student that we never actually drank underage.

Clearly I’m making up for lost time.

The ellipses return, indicating he’s composing another reply. This one takes far longer to appear, and Satine’s brow furrows.

Then a voice note file arrives. Curious, she presses play.

“Satine!” comes Vos’ voice. “Ben here has been like Orpheus all night, singing your praises.”

“Quinlan, the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is a tragedy - ” cuts in Ben. “Give me back the phone before you scare her off.”

“First, have you seen the way she looks at you?” says Vos, but his voice is a little faint, as though he’s holding the phone away from himself slightly. “Eurydice isn’t going anywhere. Second, grow a few more inches and put on some muscle, and then we’ll talk.”

Satine is struck by the sudden image of two brothers, the taller of whom is playing - and winning - a game of keepaway. She rolls her eyes, amused.

A moment later, the din of the bar becomes less prominent, and Vos’ voice becomes easier to hear.

“I’m trying to convince him to offer to teach you self defense,” says Vos. “Not only would it be good for you to know the basics - ”

Ben sighs in the background. “She’s a pacifist, Quinlan.”

“And who says pacifists can’t defend themselves? Look, Satine, I think you should agree because, quite frankly, you’re the only one capable of fairly getting the drop on Kenobi, and that would amuse me greatly.”

The voice note ends suddenly, and Satine suspects that Ben has managed to wrestle his phone back from Quinlan. Satine leans back against the pillows and pulls the duvet over her skin. She shivers slightly at the cool air, rolling over to her side.

Another text message appears.

My apologies. I will call you tomorrow, if you’re agreeable.

I’m very much still agreeable, Satine types, and then she presses send.

She sets the phone on her nightstand and rolls over, anticipating sleep.

But it doesn’t come to meet her.

Instead, the glow from the streetlight outside casts shadows through the dark, and memories knock at Satine’s subconscious, threatening to break in. Satine pulls the duvet up to cover most of her head, trying to slow her breathing, but her body temperature rises uncomfortably. She feels a bead of sweat roll down her back, and then another.

She hasn’t dealt with insomnia since she was a child, after escaping Bosnia. But she remembers her coping mechanisms, and all of them warn against remaining in bed just to continue to toss and turn. So she grabs her robe, tightens it around her waist, and heads downstairs.

If she’s awake, she might as well make herself useful.

She grabs her laptop and burrows into the couch, blanket covering her legs. Desperate to keep the memories out, she decides to complete a book proposal review she’d been putting off. She’s not any less tired after submitting the review, however, so she accepts an invitation to review an article being considered for a journal she’s regularly published in.

The article has a solid start, and Satine has some pointers on how to improve it, including additional literature to cite and a question about an analysis that apparently has not yet been run. When she finally submits the review, she sets the laptop on the coffee table, settling back against the couch cushions.

This time, she leaves the light on, and she tries to sleep again.

But sleep is nowhere to be found, and by this point, her head is pounding thanks to the brandy cocktails she’d had and hours of staring at a computer screen. Satine shuts off the light and throws herself back on the couch, and the darkness provides at least some relief to her headache.

But with it come the memories, and Satine is too exhausted to continue to push them back.

Pulling the blanket over her head, she lets herself cry.

Over the next few hours, she dips close to sleep but never quite manages to sink under. She finds herself angry at the sun when it eventually rises, a constant reminder that she should also be rising as well.

Mid-afternoon, she hears Ben’s distinctive knock at her door, and she scrambles up from the couch to open it. Gesturing him inside, she rambles, “I thought you meant you would call me on the phone, not literally call upon me.”

Ben stomps the snow off of his shoes before stepping over the threshold. “I listened to the voice note Quinlan sent again - this time fully sober - and I realized I needed to apologize in person.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” says Satine, taking his coat and hanging it up in the closet. “I actually think it’s wonderful that you have such good friends. I like Vos, and I like Ventress. And it’s charming that both like you enough to tease you.”

Ben’s expression changes as she speaks, and she realizes that his gaze has dropped below her eyes.

“Ben?”

His eyes snap up. “Did I wake you?” he asks, gesturing at her attire. Satine realizes belatedly she’s still dressed in her sleepwear: leggings and the oversize tee shirt that’s fallen off her shoulder, exposing the bralette underneath.

As he takes her in, Ben’s brow furrows.

“You look tired,” he notes. “Actually, you look dead on your feet.”

Satine sighs. “I didn’t sleep well last night,” she admits. She uses her fingers to comb her hair back into place. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“I thought Ventress had you back before nine.”

She nods. “She did. My lack of sleep had nothing to do with going out.”

Ben kicks off his shoes, and before she realizes what’s happening, he’s literally gathered her in his arms, bridal-style.

Taken aback, all Satine can manage to say is, “Well, this is new.”

And, indeed - for the first time, she realizes how much muscle he truly has put on since they were young. He’d been strong, then, of course, but he’d only been eighteen and just coming out of a growth spurt. He’s broader now - properly filled out - and Satine remembers what Ventress had said about Ben having been an Army Ranger.

Ben just chuckles. “We were bound to grow up eventually.”

“Sometimes I wish we hadn’t,” Satine whispers.

And Ben carries her to the couch, where he sits, still cradling her to his chest. He grabs the throw blanket and tosses it over them both, leaning back and positioning her so that she can stretch out against him, sharing his body heat to fight the February chill. Ben doesn’t respond, just allowing her to have her space, allowing her to have time. She rests a hand on his chest.

“I don’t remember anything about my life in Bosnia,” Satine eventually begins. “Rationally I know this is disassociation, and it’s a trauma response to Srebrenica.”

She concentrates on Ben’s breathing.

“I don’t remember my father. I quite literally have no memories of him. I have one picture we managed to save, and the things my mother told me about him before she herself passed, but that’s it.”

Ben’s arms tighten around her.

“I already told you all this, and about my mother, of course. How those memories haunted her. And the entirety of my adult life, I resented her for not being able to live with those memories - for taking herself from me when she was all I had left. But…” she trails off, gripping Ben’s sweater. “Last night, talking to Ventress, it brought up some things. Memories I hadn’t realized I could feel, even if I can’t really remember. Ventress warned me about Malek, and it was like…like a tuning fork, causing all these other moments to vibrate to life again.”

Ben tries to lift her face to meet his gaze, but she shakes her head.

“If I look at you right now, I won’t be able to keep talking,” she whispers.

He nods against her and doesn’t push it.

So Satine continues. “Did you know the first use of the term genocidal rape was in reference to what happened in Bosnia?”

He doesn’t respond beyond a sharp intake of breath, but it is response enough.

“Not that that means rape wasn’t used as a tool of genocide well before Srebrenica,” adds Satine. “But the term was first used to describe the violence there. The concept of genocidal rape was first proposed in 1996. And I…I think it’s related to what my mother had to live with. More accurately, I think it’s what she couldn’t live with.”

Her grip on his sweater grows tighter.

“I still don’t remember anything about Bosnia. But I think she was…I think she was raped. And I suspect that if it had just been her own rape that she had to live with, she probably could have survived.”

“Satine,” murmurs Ben, and suddenly his arms are vice-like. “Are you saying…”

“I don’t remember,” says Satine. “Nor do I want to. But…I think there’s a high likelihood that my mother killed herself because she couldn’t live with the memories of watching them…”

She can’t get the word out.

“...hurt me, too. In front of her. While she could do nothing to stop it.”

She hears him swallow, can feel the tension in his jaw as he brings his lips to her temple. But she has to continue, because now that the words are half-out, she has to tell him everything.

“I think I unknowingly endangered you, Ben. Our first time, I wasn’t tested. Obviously I’ve been tested since then and had a clear bill of health, and it sounds like you have been, too, with similar results. But I put you at risk.” She buries her head into the crook of his neck. “I put you at risk.”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, Satine, don’t say that. It’s not true. You didn’t know, and none of that was your fault - ”

“Just because it wasn’t my fault doesn’t mean it wasn’t my responsibility - ”

“Satine,” he says, and his voice is strangled. “No. It wasn’t your fault, nor was it your responsibility. You were a child.”

And her headache is back - or perhaps it never left - and it brings tears to her eyes. Closing her eyes tightly helps, but it does not keep the tears from falling.

“Ben, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“As you told me earlier, I’m telling you now: there’s nothing to apologize for,” says Ben, and the silk of his voice is reassuring mixed with the steel of his arms around her.

She hears the words but doesn’t fully comprehend them. “I’m so sorry.”

He kisses her forehead again and rests a hand on the back of her head, his fingers combing through her hair, massaging her skin. And she’s not sure what she did to deserve such divine intervention but she’ll take it - because his fingers are somehow the antidote to her headache, driving it away with each movement.

The tension begins to leave her muscles, and the flow of tears slows.

“I’m here, Satine,” Ben whispers. “I’m here.”

She nods against him. “I know,” she says weakly.

“I’m here,” he says again, and it’s the last thing she remembers before passing out.

---

When Satine wakes up, it’s dark again outside, and she immediately reaches for Ben. Instead, she finds her pillow, and she realizes that at some point Ben had carried her up the stairs and tucked her into bed. Sitting up, she switches on the lamp on her nightstand.

The duvet on the other side of the bed is wrinkled but hasn’t been pulled down, and Satine realizes that Ben must have laid with her for some time, choosing to remain on top of the comforter. Her heart twists with such force that she has to marvel at the sensation, and it occurs to her that maybe this is what it feels like to mend a heart rather than feel one break.

A soft clanging sound echoes from downstairs, and Satine notices that the hallway light is still on. She hears a faucet being turned on and then off, and she realizes Ben hasn’t left yet. Moreover, he appears to be prepping something in her kitchen.

Curious, she throws back the duvet and heads downstairs - sure enough, Ben stands at the range, stirring two pots. His sweater has been tossed on the counter, leaving him wearing a plain gray tee shirt and jeans. Satine smiles, leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs, and watches him for a moment in silence.

As though he realizes he’s being observed, Ben looks over his shoulder. Catching her eye, he gives her a soft smile. “Feeling better?”

She nods. “Much.” She shuffles toward him, standing next to him at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Garlic penne pasta with sun-dried tomatoes,” he says. He hands her a pasta fork. “Keep an eye on the pasta for me as I make the sauce?”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t burn it.”

“It’s noodles, Satine. In water. How would you even - ”

“My friend Breha wouldn’t let me boil water alone in college,” she says.

Ben takes the pasta fork back from her. “In that case…”

Satine just laughs.

“We’ll work on your culinary prowess some other time, when you’ve had a proper number of hours of sleep.”

“So suddenly you can cook?”

“There was nothing sudden about it,” says Ben. “It took many years, and many hours watching YouTube videos.”

He reaches for the colander and sets it in the sink. Satine steps back so he can drain the noodles.

“How long was I asleep for?”

“It’s almost eight o’clock, so a few hours.”

“And you’ve been here this whole time?”

“Well, I stopped at the co-op down the street to pick up a few ingredients you were missing. But yes, I stayed. Just like I told you.”

I’m here, Satine. I’m here.

He sets the empty pot on an oven mitt and pours the now-drained pasta back into it. Satine waits until he turns off the other burner and moves the sauce to the side, and then she can wait no longer.

She pulls him toward her, rolling onto the balls of her feet so she can press her lips against his.

She immediately decides it’s been far too long since they’d kissed on Wednesday in the library; they’d been too cautious about whatever this fragile thing between them is to take a step forward and risk it being a misstep. Ben seems to agree, if the way he returns the kiss is any indication - one hand grips her hip and pulls her closer while the other traces down her spine, and she moans into his mouth as his fingers move over her lower back.

His tongue asks for permission against her lips, and she readily grants it. When he catches her lip between his teeth, she shivers, pulling against his hair, and his hands seem to drop of their own accord to her ass.

He lifts her easily, moving across the kitchen to set her down on an unused portion of the countertop, her legs still wrapped around his hips. But when she reaches down to fumble with her own shirt, he pulls back slightly, panting.

“Wait,” Ben says, hands on her own. At her questioning glance, he adds, “It’s not that I don’t want to. But given what you told me today, maybe we should take things slower.”

He gives her a chaste kiss to take the sting out of his words.

“You probably need time to process everything,” he murmurs.

He searches her face, hands coming up to frame it.

“I know you hate waiting. I know you tend to go after something as soon as you know you want it. And we’ll get there; I promise. But in the meantime, I propose a compromise.”

She hooks a finger through one of the loops on his jeans and pulls him closer. “I’m listening.”

“If you want to fool around, I’m obviously not opposed.” Ben reaches for his sweater, and he pulls it over her head, helping her thread her arms through the sleeves. “And if skin is what you’re after, then here.” And he brings her hands to the hem of his tee shirt. “In the meantime, my hands will venture no further down than here - ”

Ben places his fingers on her hips.

“And my lips no further down than here.”

He kisses her clavicle.

“And then, once you’ve talked with someone - you still have a therapist, right?”

Satine nods.

“Once you’ve talked with someone, then we’ll talk about how to proceed.” He holds her gaze. “Are those terms acceptable?”

In response, she grins and pulls the shirt up and over his head.

#satine kryze #obi-wan kenobi #star wars fanfic #obitine #the clone wars #alternate universe #mention of past rape #mention of past suicide #ptsd #satine survived the Bosnian genocide so things get dark

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