#georgetown lunch

[hellafluff]

yknow how at a Johnny Rockets when you order a milkshake they give you your glass + the cup they mixed it in with the leftover milkshake that wouldn't fit in the glass? yeah thats what happens everytime i make an eggsalad sandwich

#i make the eggsalad and put it into the sandwich but then i still got like half a small bowls worth of egg salad #its fine i love egg #also the nearest fucking Johnny Rockets is in goddamn Norfolk im gonna kermit #<< has not been up north in a long time #i used to go to DC and georgetown like once a year ;~; thats about how often i can stomach it but like ;~; #i wanna go back to DC i wanna hang out in the museums #anyway lunch was tastey as established i love egg #and im also craving a milkshake #crazee talk

[thewulf]

Did You Just...? || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - What about a young!Hotch x reader and they’re best friends crushing on each other?? Idk if you remember that TikTok trend where you call your crush or film a video and kiss your best friend and they don’t know what’s going on?... Read Rest Here

A/N: PURE FLUFFFFF. Loved this. Hope you guys enjoy :) This is a Young Hotch set in present day :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.0k

“Okay but you’ve been on the app right?” You asked Aaron after sitting down at his desk filled to the brim with paperwork that needed to be completed but never had the time to do. He peaked his eyes over to you once you sat down with a huff.

Amusement danced in his gaze as a small smiled played on his lips at your overt casualness with him. It was remarkable to witness you go from the scared and timid profiler hired right out of school to chatting his ear off at lunch every day in a matter of mere months. See, he was in his third year at the BAU and thought he had figured it out. That was until you came along and rocked his world.

He used to come to work, get some paperwork done, put his head down and go home after a long day. It worked for him. He was ‘friends’ with his coworkers as best as he could be, but he was the young pup of the group. Then you were onboarded. Gideon hired you the second you graduated after blowing him away in one of the classes he taught at Georgetown. You came in like a hurricane that he wasn’t quite ready for but knew the team needed.

You were so different than Aaron’s other coworkers. You actually talked to him and got to know him. You weren’t afraid of his intimidating gaze but instead found it a fun challenge to try and get him to break his facade. It annoyed him at first. He went to work to work, not socialize. But leave it to you to sway his opinion on the matter. Aaron didn’t want to admit just how much he had grown to love and adore your smiling face greeting him every morning. He really didn’t want to admit how much he looked forward to your early morning coffee chats or daily debriefs when Gideon was being a hard ass. You were the sunshine of the group. The one that brought the optimism while the rest of the team turned terribly pessimistic.

He'll never forget the first time you caught a killer. He almost had a heart attack when you quite literally jumped on top of the man, surprising him and taking him to the floor without a second thought. You smiled right up to him after he was in cuffs and whispered a, “One down. A hundred more to go.” To him. He knew right then and there that you’d be in his life for a long time.

“What app?” He set the pen he was writing with down as he turned his attention to you.

Sighing you opened your phone showing him, “Don’t play dumb with me Hotchner.” Your eyes glowered at the man with a subtle smirk resting right on his face, “Tik-Tok.”

He leaned back watching the videos you’d saved. He assumed they were ones you thought would convince him to download it. He was right of course. You’d saved the funniest ones in hopes he’d download the damn app. You’ve been trying for weeks to get him to do it. But then again, it almost took you three entire months to convince the man he needed to upgrade from his prehistoric iPhone 5.

“You know that’s likely spyware and the government…”

You cut him off with another long-drawn-out sigh, “Okay dad. But it’d not banned. So, download it.”

Aaron could mess with you, and he knew it. And enjoyed it. He didn’t dare want to admit just how happy he got when he got you to blush under his gaze. You’d quite literally waltzed in and rocked his absolute world. He knew he couldn’t catch feelings for you and yet here he was. On the brink of falling in love with the funnier than ever coworker who knew him better than he knew himself. How cliché.

He leaned back in his office chair crossing his arms over his chest, “You know. I don’t think I will.” He watched your face closely. You were far too easy to read. Something he was working on with you. You gave away everything on your face. His smirk only grew when you raised your eyebrows in slight surprise. It wasn’t often he didn’t bend over backwards to make you happy. He would of course download the stupid little app to make you happy. Just like he got the latest iPhone once you saw the horrifying state of his almost 10-year-old phone.

You leaned back in the same manner he had, “No need to be so obstinate Hotch.” Giving him a playful push, you couldn’t help but to giggle at his amused grin. It was easy to forget the two of you were at work of all places. It was just so easy to forget with him. He made you want more with him, so much more. A much easier case to crack than you originally thought. He was an utter softy under the rigid exterior put on for the team.

He knew he should get back to work but he just couldn’t shoo you away. He looked forward to moments like these. Little moments where he got to steal some of your time and attention, “Look at you. Using your big words.” His smirk deepened as he watched you register his words in real time. He was playing around with you. He’d gotten so comfortable with you he was beginning to mess with you right back. You’d grown used to teasing him and only getting an eyeroll or snicker in return. You weren’t used to this. And you had to admit you loved it. A subtle change you’d grown to adore.

“Didn’t go to school for nothing.” You winked at him knowing the double negative would set him off.

He shook his head, “You’re something else, you know that?”

Wiggling your eyebrows at him you nodded your head, “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Relenting, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened it up knowing damn well he didn’t download the app but he’d sure as hell let you do it. He’d truly do anything for you, “You’re right.”

Ignoring the flush that rose to your cheeks you grabbed the opened phone from his hands. You knew you shouldn’t be having these thoughts for your dangerously attractive slightly older and much more put together coworker. But damn. You had all the thoughts and feelings.

You sighed, “Just as I suspected.” Shaking your head in disapproval you handed the phone back to him, “Now, I need you to make an account to night. Let me know when you do! I have so many to share with you.” You grinned knowing he was going to give in one way or another.

He took it back, “That’s a lot of work.” He spoke with a grin that meant he was just teasing you. Two could play that game.

“Yeah, because you’re so anti-technology. But I promise you can do this. Who else am I supposed to send TikTok’s too?” You widened your eyes as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’re other friends?”

You shrugged, “I do send them. But these are for you.”

Aaron couldn’t help but to smile at your ever so quick comebacks. One of the many reasons he had fallen for you so quickly, “I’ll do it. But…” He paused letting it linger in the air for a moment.

“But what Hotchner?” You raised your eyebrows, ever so curious as to what his stipulation could be.

His smile widened seeing your impatience for him grow, “Only if you come over and show me how.” He’d never really been so bold before. Sure, you’d been over to his place a few times in passing, once for a team dinner. Gideon’s genius idea to have somebody from the team host once a month. You’d rather come to enjoy the gatherings. Especially when they were at Rossi’s place. The wine and food pairings never ceased to amaze you. You on the other hand always insisted on taking the team out when your month rolled around. It was a little too embarrassing to have the entire team over at your rather small one-bedroom apartment.

“Propositioning me now Hotch?” You challenged back to the man you were head over heels with knowing it’d throw him off his game. The smile that immediately dropped let you know you did exactly that.

This time it was his mouth that dropped as his cheeks turned an adorable violet. Oh, you got him this time. You wished you could take a picture. He was just too cute when he thought too hard. If you were at home you would’ve risked a picture, but you didn’t want to cross the line at work. You’d never dream of putting him in an awkward position here. The both of you worked way too hard to blow it up now.

“You know I would never ever…” He started rambling. It would’ve been adorable had he not been actually freaking out a little bit. Of course, you knew that. You really were just messing with him.

Shaking your head, you stopped him, “I’m teasing you Aaron. I’d love to come over and show you how to make a TikTok account.”

He let out a strangled sigh of relief, “You’re killing me.” He loved it when you called him by his first name. It sounded too good coming out of your mouth.

Biting back a smile you stood from the chair, “I’ll be over at 6?”

You watched as he leaned forward grabbing his pen once more. Turning to you with that smile you’d grown to adore he nodded, “Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dare Hotchner.” Shooting him one last wink you walked away briskly letting your heart get far, far away from the man who was causing it to beat right out of your chest.

“You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be Hotchner.” You giggled itching to take the phone away from Aaron.

He shrugged giving you a wicked grin, “We’re not all technologically savvy Y/L/N.” He chided back knowing he might’ve been taking his time so that you didn’t have an excuse to leave. He took his time making dinner, not starting until you made it over. Taking his time cleaning up and getting dessert out. Pretending not to know how his phone worked. He wanted to steal your time away. Not that you minded, not in the slightest.

Rolling your eyes, you finished setting it up for him, “You could say that again.”

A small chuckle rolled off his lips. He put his phone back down before turning his head back to you. You were watching him with all the love in your eyes. You’d tried so hard to hide it, but it was becoming an impossible task. He was so easy to fall in love with. How were you to blame?

Feeling bold you decided to move forward with your plan. Picking up your phone you clicked the video player to record and angled it towards you and Aaron.

With scrunched brows he observed you, “What are you doing?”

“Since you’ve never opened the app you’ll never get it. But we’re doing a video. I’ll post it. It’d trending right now.” You said as nonchalantly as possible trying not to let your voice waver. You had to be confident

Curiously we watched as you scooted closer to him, “Trending?” He asked with a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

You nodded not daring to meet his curious gaze, you’d surely lose the confidence to actually do it, “Mhmm,” You hummed, “If you’ll let me that is.”

He grinned, “Be my guest.”

It felt like your heart was about to leap out of its chest. Now or never, really, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He smirked seeing you finally look him in the eyes, “Do your worst then.”

It was really now or never. You grabbed either side of his face and decided to go for it.

His eyes widened in pleasant shock as you pressed your lips to his. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped then and there. That was bold, even for you. But then again you always had him on his toes. Another one of the many reasons he knew that made him fall for you. It took him a second to long to respond to this kiss. But once he did he wasn’t going to let you go.

Once you needed air though you did have to pull away. Adrenaline was now coursing through you as you realized you really just kissed not only your friend but your coworker as well. There was truly no going back now.

“Did you just…?” His mouth bobbed open and closed like he couldn’t believe what you just did.

You watched as his face went from shock to realization to… satisfaction? A fast and hot blush erupted on your cheeks as you realized he was watching you too, waiting on an answer to his very own question.

“I did.” Biting your lip, a wave of anxiety washed over you as you waited his answer.

You didn’t get one as he leaned in this time. You felt as his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and up through your hair. Carefully he pulled your head towards him as he kissed you with a little more dominance this time. He was in charge. He wanted to kiss you. You didn’t fight the way your body melted right into his. Feeling him smile as you folded into his touches like putty, you didn’t dare break away. You’d dreamed of this moment for far too long. Almost six months too long now.

He pulled away gently, leaning his forehead on yours, “Thank God you did.”

Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest you only could hope he couldn’t hear it being so close, “Yeah?” You asked, a hint of insecurity in your voice.

He moved away from you only so he could look you in the eyes. His hands landed on your shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” His usually unreadable face broke into a light blush, one you probably wouldn’t be able to see if you weren’t so close to him.

“Why didn’t you?” The smile on your face let him know it was all in good fun. You just loved teasing him. And he loved teasing you right on back.

He shook his head with the saddest smile, “Would it be too cowardly to say that I didn’t want to mess it all up? I didn’t want to make a mess of it if you didn’t feel the same.” For the first time you’d seen a side of him you’d really never have seen before. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t have an answer. He looked to you for the next step.

A quick shake of your head brought you back to the present, “I’d never think of you as a coward Aaron.” You reached for his hands that landed back down at his side, “And I’m certainly glad I didn’t make a mess of it.” You giggled feeling relieved that he clearly felt the same way. You didn’t think he’d kiss you like that if he didn’t.

“Go out with me tomorrow? On an actual date? Where I can actually woo you. You weren’t supposed to do that by the way.” He pinched your side lightly loving the way you squirmed under his touch, “But then again. You always seem to take me by surprise.” He clarified leaning back in wanting so desperately to kiss you once more but needing to hear your answer first.

“Do I now?” If your heart could speed up it certainly did as he leaned closer and closer once more.

“All the time.” He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, his thumb gingerly brushing on the apple of your cheek. A shiver you tried to stop erupted from your body at the lightest of contact with him. You were a goner, and you knew it.

“Good to know.” You grinned before leaning in and giving his nose a quick kiss, catching him off guard yet again, “And yes, I’d love to go out with you.” You continued after sending his brain into a tizzy. You truly would be the death of him.

He didn’t waste a second more before bringing you in for a much slower kiss this time. He too was in utter disbelief this was going on. Sure, he’d daydreamed about it on far too many occasions, but it was actually happening. He was kissing you.

When he pulled back for air he gave you a once over again, “I haven’t told you how pretty you look tonight.” He knew that’d draw that pretty blush he loved so much.

You pushed at his chest lightly giving him a soft laugh. You turned your head spotting the phone you’d set up to record about five minutes ago.

“Oh crap.” You pulled yourself off of him to grab at the phone quickly ending the video. A soft smile graced your face as you thought about watching that later.

He grinned, “Are you going to post that?”

Shaking your head quickly you saved the video before closing out of the app, “No, I don’t think I will.” Looking back up with all the love in your eyes you scooted closer to him, nearly on top of him now, “Think I’ll keep it just for you and I.”

He pulled you onto his lap, getting the hint, “You’re a sap.” Brushing your now messy hair, thanks to Aaron, out of your face he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead, “A cute sap at that.”

You grinned while cuddling into him rather thankful your uncalculated risk paid off in an incredible way, “Only for you Aaron.”

He wrapped his arms all the way around pulling you in close, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade

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[storiesofsvu]

Love Comes Quietly Ch 1

Future Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, minor talk of fbi type situations, alcohol consumption.

Alex always felt like it was a breath of incredibly fresh air whenever she got to get out of DC for something that wasn’t FBI case related. Since the divorce she’d almost started to feel a little antsy, like there was something else she should or could be doing to take up her free time now that the house was empty. She and James were still in touch rather frequently, everything had been completely amicable after all, just two people realizing they were going down different paths in life, even if they still cared about each other, they knew their part of the journey together was over. He’d stayed in the house with her while they sorted everything out and got papers signed and figured out who things belonged to and who wanted what before he moved off to Boston to accept the teaching position at Harvard.

Which is exactly how she had found herself on the Harvard campus for a week and a half guest lecturing in a handful of different classes. Despite James being the one to make the original invitation it was Daniela who’d convinced her into staying for the full week. They’d worked together at Georgetown when Alex had first started teaching and were hoping to finally be able to play catch up in between work hours.

Alex had done one lecture already today, using the free time before lunch to poke around the campus a little bit. There were more than enough interesting places, including a handful of bookstores that were home to a lot more than text books and required readings. She wandered the aisles, skipping the non fiction, she had enough of those kicking around the house already. She slowed a bit through the fiction books, though her face grimaced at the mystery and crime novels, there was no need for those, she saw enough of that in her every day life. The last thing she needed was to come home from a case and have that be her bedtime reading. She slowed when she hit the romance section, it was cheesy, she was the first to admit it, but sometimes they just hit the spot, a pleasant over dramatic sappy distraction from real life. Her secret guilty pleasure, if you will.

Her fingers trailed along a couple of books, nose scrunching when nearly all the covers featured a broad chested half naked man. Something, rather a person, caught her eye a bit further down the aisle. It was as if the two of you were both trying to outwait the other before going for the books you actually were interested in. She surveyed you out of the corner of her eye, you were old enough she knew the chances of you being a student were unlikely, especially considering you didn’t have any kind of bag with you. Key ring dangling from your fingers, bulge of your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. You were dressed just on the brink of business casual, but not nice enough that she thought you were a professor.

She watched as your lips moved into a tiny grin, as if a fond memory was waving through your brain and you reached out to the shelf, picking out a book that she recognized the cover of, ‘Love Letters. 2000 Years of Romance’. You flicked through a couple of pages, eyes scanning the text with a little smile on your face before you flipped the entire books worth of pages and she just knew you were inhaling that new book smell. You turned the book over, reading the dedication on the back before slipping it back into its place on the shelf.

“Oh now that’s a good one, it’s not a put it back book.” The words left her lips before she even really realized she was saying them. You practically jumped, despite being more than well aware there was someone else in the aisle with you, looking up to her as you laughed softly.

“Oh! I know, I’ve read it, one of my faves. My copy’s just getting a little worse for wear.”

“A little wear and tear means a book’s well loved.” She smiled softly, “my copy usually lives on the bedside table.”

“Perfect bedtime reading.” You smiled and for a moment you thought she was going to turn back to the shelves but she looked you over briefly.

“You’re… not a student here are you?”

“What gave it away.” You laughed, “and no, just..” you checked your watch, “waiting for a friend to finish a lecture. Need an expert opinion on something.”

“Anything I could help with?” She asked and it was your turn to survey her, the blazer, shoulder bag no doubt with at least a laptop and lecture notes in it, the smudge of white board marker on her right hand.

“Dunno, what’d’you teach?”

“Well, technically just guest lecturing this week, but linguistics.”

“Ah…” Before you could comment that you were waiting on a friend who taught forensic science a man popped into the end of the aisle, a small grin on his face as he wandered down to her side.

“Now why am I not surprised to find you in the romance novel section?” He greeted with a tease and her cheeks tinged pink as she turned to him, “ready?”

“Yes.” She nodded in your direction and you gave her a little salute once his back was turned before you turned back to the shelf of books in front of you with a soft sigh, checking your watch once more. You didn’t have long before you had to be back at the office, you were hoping Daniela would hurry the hell up. Letting out a little groan you rolled your eyes, maybe if you met her at her classroom this wouldn’t take as long.

**

Considering it was Friday, Alex shouldn’t have been surprised when she was roped into after work drinks and snacks with Daniela and a few other friends. She was at least thankful that they’d ended up off campus, not wanting to be plagued with students or follow up questions from lectures during the week. City Bar Back Bay was the perfect place for them, a trendy lounge tucked away in the corner of a hotel on Exeter Street. There were cocktails, a few glasses of wine, a jug of sangria and plates of chips, cheese, soft pretzel bites and more spread across the table for everyone to share. Everyone’s spirits were lifted at the knowledge it was the end of the week, laughter and conversation flowing easily throughout the small group.

“So?” Daniela questioned, nudging at Alex’s arm, “how’re you liking Boston?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been here before.” She replied with a laugh.

“But now you’re teaching here… and at Harvard, nonetheless. That’s gotta be at least some kind of bonus points.”

“Daniela…” Alex eyed her with a chuckle, “I didn’t move here when my husband suggested it, I’m not going to uproot my life just because you hate having to do certain parts of your lesson plans.”

“Yeah.” Caitlin cut in from her other side, “I keep telling you to just hire a TA.”

“Maybe I just prefer having a friend come to town a couple of times a year.”

“You’re lazy.” Caitlin replied, stealing a chip off her plate, “where’s Murphy? She mention bailing or anything at lunch?”

“No, she said she’d definitely be here. She’s probably caught up at work.” Daniela turned back to Alex with a near whine, “c’mon… what about splitting the year? Half in DC, half here?” Alex laughed, affectionately rolling her eyes.

“Two weeks at a time is my absolute max. I love my job, and as much as I enjoy teaching, it doesn’t jump higher, I’ve spent way too long working to get where I am.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniela waved her off with a playful groan, she was about to say something else when a voice rung in from behind her.

“I am so sorry I’m late!” You swept in quickly, hand on her shoulder as you leant around her from behind to kiss her cheek before dropping into the open chair at the head of the small table.

“Yeah, where the hell have you been?” Daniela asked.

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, “turns out when you kill someone there’s an extra forty five minutes of paperwork.”

“Should I be concerned?” Alex’s ears had picked up the words, turning back your direction with a tease in her voice and a laugh on her cheeks, pulling a loud laugh from Daniela.

“No, Murphy’s FBI.” She explained.

Alex’s eyes met yours from across the table and a tiny grin split your lips as both of your heads tilted in recognition from the bookstore that afternoon. You’d changed half your outfit from then, no doubt wanting to get out of work clothes, button up swapped for a cotton tank while the blazer was replaced with a plaid flannel, your hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, soft curls swaying as you turned your head to glance back to Daniela.

“Y/N, meet Alex Blake.” She gestured between the two of you and you extended out a hand that Alex was quick to shake.

“Oh!” Your eyes widened, “Professor Blake. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

“All lies I’m sure.” Alex chuckled with a smirk.

“There’s an Agent in there somewhere too.” Daniela teased, pouring out a glass of sangria to slide over to you.

“Don’t forget Doctor.” Caitlin cut in, snagging another treat from Daniela’s plate.

“Three titles,” you mused, “now that’s impressive.”

“Gives me a nice rotation depending on who I’m talking to.” Alex joked with a shrug and you chuckled.

“So linguist in one column.” You ticked it off on your finger, “gonna take a stab in the dark and say PhD in the next.” She nodded, “but what department for the last?”

“Behaviour Analysis Unit.”

“No fucking way.” Your arm dropped to the table, a little harder than you’d intended.

“What?” Alex asked with a small laugh, taking a sip of her drink.

“I just put in papers for an application to fill the open spot on that team.” You laughed, “I’ve got an interview with an Agent… Prentiss? Next week.”

“Oh thank god.” She let out a huff of a sigh, “we’ve been too shorthanded for too long. I was barely able to get away for this week.”

“Okay, I’m grabbing another pitcher.” Daniela grabbed the empty jug of sangria from the table top, hopping off her chair and Alex was able to slide into it to continue the conversation with you.

“So you’d say there’s a decent chance then?” You raised a brow over the rim of your glass.

“As long as Prentiss thinks so.”

“Is she a hard ass?”

“No.” Alex laughed, chewing on her lip for a moment, “she’s…. driven, loyal, passionate, has high expectations but also incredibly understanding. If you look good on paper things will probably look good, but honestly to her it probably matters more what you manage in person.”

“How so?” Your head tilted, “obviously it takes a particular type of person to be a profiler, but you’re hinting at more than that.”

“Nicely done.” She nearly smirked in your direction, “our team is a family. I know most places when you hear that term it’s a red flag you should run for the hills, but that’s not true here. We spend more time together than with anyone else, our secrets and pasts come out when we’re getting into the minds of unsubs or trying to talk them down. There are things my team knows that some of my closest friends of family have never been told, and that makes us stronger, makes us work together even better.”

“Hmm.” You nodded, sucking back more of your drink, “good to know.”

“You said your interview’s next week?” She asked and you nodded again, “I get back on Tuesday, I’ll be sure to bring your name up to Emily.”

“That’d be amazing!” You beamed, eyes widening with excitement and Alex smiled softly back at you.

She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but even from the very brief moment in the bookstore earlier she already knew that she liked you. Something was simply drawing her to you, like the universe wanted you to know each other, that you were meant to cross paths. After all, you’d already done so twice in one day without even knowing the other existed when you woke up that morning. Now that you were actually getting to spend some time together the two of you clicked instantly, falling into conversation like you were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. There was no awkwardness or weird small talk, just laughter and little jabs as if you knew exactly how to tease the other person without offending them. She knew deep within her that she had met someone that day that would be an integral part of her life, no matter how the interview ended up going.

Alex was about to elaborate to you when Daniela came back to the table with a tray in her hand and a wicked grin on her cheeks.

“It is time for shots!” She shrieked and Alex rolled her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Alex, c’mon.”

“Yeah!” Caitlin joined in, passing shots from the tray to the table, “I mean we do have a reason to celebrate after all!”

“Exactly!” Daniela high fived her, winking in her direction before raising a shot glass in Alex’s direction, “we didn’t get to celebrate your divorce when it happened, so now is as good a time as any.”

“Daniela!” Alex half scolded half laughed and the other woman simply shook her head, pointing to the shot until Alex huffed, picking up the glass and you followed suit. Glasses clinked together before liquor was sunk back, little winces echoing through the group.

“Okay!” Daniela shook it off, “that’s the liquid courage I needed.” Her eyes searched around the bar, “try to find myself a man.”

“On it.” Caitlin scooped up their drinks, handing Daniela hers before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

“You know you’re more than welcome to join them.” Alex prompted, her hand squeezing at your arm on the table top and you laughed.

“That would require me being interested in men in the first place.”

“I’m sure there’s a few nice girls out there too.”

“Meh.” You replied, sucking back at your drink, “not into it. Besides, they invite you out and then bail? Rude. I mean…” you glanced across at her, “unless you’d rather bail too, hit up the guy from your lunch date?”

Alex couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that, her smile reaching her eyes as she looked back to you.

“That was my ex husband.” She laughed, “we’re still good friends, just, no longer in love.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned slightly.

“Don’t be.” She shrugged with a smile, “it wasn’t anything hurtful or sad. We got married young, we’re both incredibly passionate about our careers and we spent a lot more time working than together. Things simply… fizzled out.”

“I’m glad you’re still friends.”

“Me too.” She smiled warmly back at you and the two of you slipped into an easy conversation.

Two rounds of drinks later and Caitlin had disappeared from the bar with her conquest while you and Alex were still trapped in an endless conversation that neither of you wanted to halt. Even when Daniela would swing by every so often to check in she could tell that the two of you were clearly fast friends and there was no worry about her leaving the two of you alone any longer. So she took full advantage after another tequila shot to bite the bullet and see if the man she’d been flirting with wanted to go someplace else.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, having not connected with someone like this in what felt like years and Alex would tell you she felt the same. She had just finished a story when your phone buzzed on the table top and your face fell when you glanced toward it.

“Got a case?” She asked, knowing the feeling all to well.

“Not now.” You sighed, sucking back the rest of your drink, “but my weekend is officially no longer a weekend. Gotta report to the office at nine tomorrow.”

“Ugh.” She grimaced.

“Yeah.” You huffed, sliding off the stool, thankful at least that Daniela had taken care of the tab already. “It was really nice to meet you Alex.”

“Right back at you.” She smiled softly.

“Night.” You smiled, giving her a little salute.

“Hey!” Her hand wrapped around your wrist when you were a mere foot away, tugging you back and you raised a brow in her direction, “can’t just leave without my info.”

“Oh?”

“I want to know how that interview goes.” She dug into her pocket, pulling out a business card to hand off to you, “I was serious about thinking you’d make a good fit to the team. I’ll send a text to Emily in the morning, put in a good word.”

“Thank you. Really.” With a smile, you pocketed the card, “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good news.” She assured with a grin, watching the joy spread through you as you finally did turn from the table, waving goodnight to her once more before you vanished through the bar door.

____________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @mysticfalls01 @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss l @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @rustyzebra @aliensaurusrex

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #criminal minds #alex blake criminal minds #love comes quietly #criminal minds fanfic #alex blake fanfic #alex blake series

[pilotinthestars]

the divine’s plan is perfection, chapter 2 - PilotInTheStars

rating: teen | word count: 2.2k | @today-in-fic

link on ao3

--

Mulder didn’t remember much about when his parents had brought Samantha home from the hospital. 

He remembered Samantha’s bassinet because there were little ducks lined up on the edge and her hair stuck straight up if it wasn’t brushed. 

He remembered a distant relative bouncing her on his knee and asking their mother if she wanted one more. Teena had awkwardly laughed and said, “My hands are full.”

He remembered when Samantha was a toddler, one of his friends had made fun of her on the playground for carrying around her doll, and he’d jumped to her defense immediately. It didn’t matter that he’d held Barbie above her head to taste her the day before because she kept leaving her in their treehouse.

His grandmother told him during the summer of 1974, when his parents were finalizing their divorce and he had been sent there for a month, that when he first saw Samantha, he cried for three whole minutes, until Bill had said, sternly, “Only babies cry.” He had stopped immediately and stoically accepted his role of big brother from that point forward.

Mulder leaned down to look at his fish. He needed to clean the tank this weekend and keep an eye on one of his mollies. There was a hole in Paul the Fish’s tail and he swam slowly, always one of the last to reach the flakes that had just been poured in. He dreaded the day he found Paul upside down.

Here he was, an almost 37-year-old man, feeding his fish on a Friday night, while his FBI partner sat in her apartment, likely heating her progesterone shot before relaxing with a mug of tea. And part of him wanted to be there. Not that he’d be of much help. He was at his most useful in a well-lit room at the fertility specialist, with a few magazines and a clear plastic cup. 

A few hours ago, he’d driven Scully and himself back to the office. The rest of their afternoon had been slow and they’d both occupied themselves with paperwork until the clock struck five. 

“Have a good weekend, Mulder,” Scully said with a smile, before leaving the office. The door clicked behind her. It was like nothing unusual had happened that day. Something about that didn’t sit right with him.

With a sigh, he went to his stove, throwing a towel over his shoulder. He turned on a burner, only to remember that his stove hadn’t been functional since Tuesday. He needed to call the landlord again.

He walked back into the other room and dialed Scully’s number. In two short rings, she answered. 

“Mulder?”

“Hi, Scully.” 

The other end of the line crackled as he fiddled with the phone line. 

“Is everything alright?” she continued.

“I just wanted to check-in. You didn’t talk much when we got back from lunch.” 

“Oh, well, I’m alright. I had to run an errand for my mother, but I’m home now. I was just having a rough day emotionally.” She laughed to herself. He could imagine her smile in his head.

“You know how my landlord is terrible?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well, I have bad news.” He could imagine her raising a brow. “My stove is broken even after I’ve called him twice. And I was kind of hoping that you would be open to me ordering a pizza and splitting it with me.”

“Hmm,” she said, pondering. “Would you be willing to come over here? I have to take care of some things this evening.”

He’d be willing to do anything, really. “Of course. I can be there in 20.”

Within a half hour, the pizza had been ordered to Scully’s Georgetown apartment and Mulder knocked on the door. With a click of the lock, Scully opened it. She had traded her suit from earlier for a maroon sweater and a pair of soft pants. There was little need for a greeting - she’d been expecting him.

“I’m honestly grateful you called,” she said as he trailed behind her. “I didn’t want to cook tonight and there’s nothing in my fridge anyway.”

As if on cue, someone else knocked on the door. 

“Oh, thank god.”

Scully had put out two plates for them but they ate it straight out of the box. They’d been on the road long enough he knew her pizza order and she seemed grateful for it. Sitting like this every Friday night would be a gift.

“You know, I did rent a horror movie while I was out. If you’d like to stay and watch. I know it’s not your thing…”

“I can make do.” He’d make do with anything, really.

She sighed. “But before we put it on, I need to administer my shot, and I…” she trailed off. “Would you be willing to help? It’s just the angle that’s an issue, I can get everything set up.”

Mulder’s heart or stomach or kidneys (he wasn’t sure) did a gymnastics move. “Yeah… I can help with that. If you want me to.”

“Thank you… I appreciate it.” She paused. “I have to get it set up.”

Scully stood up and walked to her room, before pausing and turning around to see if he would follow her. He did, like a lost puppy, into Dana Scully’s bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed, like a teenager being let into his girlfriend’s bedroom for the first time. 

“Whoa Scully, you know they still make heating pads, right?” he said as she pulled it out of her drawer. The cord was an inch away from fraying. “I think the dinosaurs used that one.” 

Her lips upturned into the slightest smile, the one she did when she was amused and didn’t want to admit it. “It works just fine. It got me through college, it’ll get me through now.”

She stepped into her bathroom to find her material and he watched her reflection in the mirror as she prepared the syringe, making it look easy. She returned, placing it on top of the heating pad and untucking her maroon sweater. He seemed to have interrupted what had been her ritual and there was a high chance he’d fuck this up. 

He watched her pace back and forth, massaging the area. 

“I drew out the spaces where it needs to be. My mother helped me on Tuesday but she can’t be here every night. I can work it out with a mirror where it needs to be but it’s still difficult and hurts like hell.”

She lifted her sweater higher and he saw that she had carefully marked up her lower back in Sharpie. The eye of her tattoo stared at him ominously. 

Her finger pointed to one spot on her back. “I figure here today would work.” She looked back at him. He hoped he didn’t look scared out of his mind. “I usually take turns.”

Dr. Scully was teaching him how to be a nurse. This had to be the weirdest roleplay ever. But he felt honored she entrusted him at all, explaining all of these steps to him in detail.

She picked up her syringe from the heating pad and showed him how to place his fingers on it to push the needle down. “I’ll lay down and deal with everything there.”

Mulder held the syringe in his hand, looking at the oil within it. 

Someone knocked on his door, loud enough that he could hear it over the rain.

Mulder opened it to find Scully, wrapped up in her red silk robe, her hair frizzy and undone. 

“I want you to look at something,” she said, her voice wobbling at the end. He was worried, how could he not be? For the two days he’d known her she’d been the stoic voice of reason.

In the light of his measly little candle, she untied her robe and draped it to cover as much of herself as she could. He knew what she was implying, as her eyes darted down to indicate her lower back, right above the line of her underwear.

“What are they?” she asked, panicked. 

He moved to look closer, and she asked again. “Mulder, what are they?”

“Mosquito bites.” He looked up at her and stood back up. She had trusted him and it made him feel something powerful stirring within him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I got eaten alive out there.” Scully wrapped her robe around herself and without asking threw herself into him. He was shocked, for a moment, but carefully put his arm around her. 

Why she trusted him, he didn’t know. Throwing yourself into your new partner’s room half-naked seemed a dangerous go of things (not that Mulder had ever been that kind of guy). He wouldn’t forget the way she turned to him to comfort herself, not even for a moment, or the way she shook because she was frightened. 

He let her sit on his bed and he looked up at her yet again, like she was an idol in a church. The light from the parking lot bathed her in its blue glow. Her hair had dried into a copper halo and the red of her robe matched her lips. She was more beautiful than any lost truth.

It was done. And nothing had gone horribly wrong.

He tentatively placed a hand on her arm as she moved her hand to massage the spot, sitting up gently. “I should probably go wash the dishes.”

“Let me help.”

Mulder took to washing the dishes while Scully dried, taking breaks to lap around the apartment. It was to keep the area less sore, to an extent, she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said when she returned for a fourth time. 

“Why?” She set another glass in her cabinet. 

“Just… the process. I got out of it easy.” A silence hung in the air. 

“Well, hopefully, it will be worth it in the end.” She smiled at him and shut the cabinet before they retired to her living room.

Scully had rented a horror movie, and despite the fact he was an agent that most would call seasoned, some scenes made his stomach turn. But they were sharing a blanket, even though they were on opposite ends of the couch, and he couldn’t complain.

“Mulder, you’re turning green.”

He looked at her. “I don’t do autopsies regularly, Scully.” To that, she laughed, before it broke into a yawn.

“It might be time for me to go to bed.” She paused the movie and turned to him. “Are you okay to drive back?”

“It’s not too far,” he said, knowing his cue to go. He gathered his keys and wallet, putting them into his pockets as she folded up the blanket. He didn’t know if the silence was comfortable or awkward. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” she said. 

“And you’ll let me know if anything happens? Or if you need something?” He tried to not sound too imploring.

Scully nodded and gave an acknowledging smile. “I will.”

He wanted to curl up with her under the crocheted blanket on the foot of her bed. She’d doze off quickly, and it might take him a while but her bed was much comfier than his own. They’d wake up and get bagels before going grocery shopping.

But he said goodnight and left anyway.

Mulder put his keys into the ignition to start the car and began to make his way home to Alexandria, to the water bed he still wasn’t used to and his broken stove. If Scully wanted him there she would have said, and he was too much of a coward to ask.

As he was crossing the bridge a thought crossed his mind. Would he tell his mother about the baby?

His hands clenched the steering wheel and he almost missed his exit. A car behind him honked.

How could he even explain it to her? Hi Mom, remember my FBI partner? You’re a grandmother now. No, we’re not together. No, I don’t know if she loves me. I love her, though. And we’re going to have a baby.

But maybe it would go better than that. 

They had been better in the past couple of years about calling each other - at least on major holidays and each other’s birthdays. Their last conversation had even been pleasant, and Teena had ended the call with a “Goodnight, honey.”

There was a chance she’d be happy for him, happy for the both of them.

Maybe he and Scully could take a hesitant trip up to Greenwich, Connecticut and new baby hands would be held by old ones worn by age and grief. Maybe they’d even go to Martha’s Vineyard. Scully could tell the baby about the sea and how the moon caused all the waves. He’d roll up his jeans and hold them up by the armpits, little feet kicking the water. 

But Scully would have to want that too.

Mulder reached his apartment in Alexandria and dragged his feet to his apartment. He opted for the couch and tried to not dream of a tiny form in Scully’s arms and a crib in the other room.

#msr #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files #x files #my fic

[thebadgerclan]

Shots Fired

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Henry Fox

Summary: BREAKING NEWS: White House Reports That First Son, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Has Been Shot

CONTENT WARNING: This deals with/describes shootings/gunshot wounds. Nothing is explicitly described, but proceed with caution if this could be triggering to you

A/N: I'm writing part 2 to this as we speak

Insomnia was nothing new for Henry, though after having a few blissfully restful nights in Alex’s arms, sleep was more elusive.  The Prince sighed, rolling onto his side.  The alarm clock read 11:25 PM, and normally, Henry would drag himself to the kitchen and make himself a cup of tea, maybe crack open his book, try to distract himself from the sleep that wouldn’t come.  But something in him was telling him to turn the T.V. on.  So Henry did, and he nearly vomited when he processed what was on the screen.

BREAKING NEWS: ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ SHOT.  Henry barely managed to keep his late night snack of Jaffa Cakes down as he cranked the volume up, listening intently to the newscaster.  “We are just receiving confirmation from Washington that Alex Claremont-Diaz, son of President Ellen Claremont, has been shot amidst gunfire in Georgetown.  Information is still coming in, but we can confirm that Mr. Claremont-Diaz was life-flighted to Walter Reed Medical Center, and…”

Henry was no longer listening.  He was throwing clothes into a bag, not bothering to fold them, barely looking at what he was packing.  Then, his phone started buzzing.  Texts from Bea, June, Pez, and Nora, but none from the one person he desperately needed to hear from.  Henry pulled his charger from the wall and shoved it in his bag, zipped it shut, and threw it over his shoulder before he was running.

Shaan met him halfway down the hall.  “I need to get to–”  “I know, sir,” the equerry interrupted, turning on his heel, now jogging alongside the Prince.  “Ms. Bankston phoned.  There’s a car waiting to take you to Heathrow.”  Henry nodded, quickening his pace, nearly diving into the waiting car.  The ride to the airport was torturously long, and the flight was unbearable.  All Henry wanted was to see Alex, to touch Alex, to know that Alex was alive.  The headlines kept rolling in, none of them confirming anything, and the Prince was beginning to spiral.

Ellen’s number was in his contacts, but she hadn’t called.  Nor had June or Nora.  Henry didn’t blame them, of course, their attention was likely on Alex.  But he was going half mad with worry and speculation.  Eventually, Shaan pressed Henry’s emergency medication into his palm–pills he seldom had to take, pills he needed when anxiety and panic overwhelmed him–and he took them with no questions, dropping into a dreamless sleep soon after.

***

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.  Alex had set out with the intention of scoping out a new bookstore for when Henry came to visit, grabbing some lunch, and heading back to the Residence.  Instead, he found himself lying on the pavement, a bullet wound on his lower abdomen, screams and pops filling his ears.  Alex was by no means a medical professional, but he knew when he lifted his head that that was far too much blood.

Amy was at his side immediately, her gun drawn.  Cash was there too, tearing open a package of what looked like gauze.  “Sorry kid,” he said.  “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”  He then began packing the wound, and Alex screamed, stars popping before his eyes.  Then the tears came, both from pain and from fear.  Would he see his mom again?  June?  Henry?  Alex brought a shaky hand to his face, seeing Henry’s signet ring there, flecked with blood.  “Baby,” he whispered, kissing the ring.  “I love you.  Henry…”  Everything went black.

***

There was another car waiting when Henry landed at Ronald Reagan.  The Prince was barely sitting down, Shaan climbing into the other seat, when he barked an order, one he had no real business giving.  “Drive.”  As the car pulled out of the airport, it was flanked by five other vehicles, all black, red and blue lights flashing.  At Henry’s questioning look, Shaan spoke.  “Extra security, sir,” he said.  “We cannot take any risks.”

Henry was anxious for the entire drive.  At his request, Shaan had confiscated his phone, cutting him off from any and all communications.  He had texted Bea, though, telling her he was going to D.C. and that he would be in touch.  “Any word?” he asked, and the equerry shook his head.  “I know as much as you, sir.”  Finally, the motorcade pulled up to Walter Reed, and Henry almost fell in his haste to get out of the car.

Four Secret Service agents were waiting at the entrance, as was Zahra, who looked flighty and anxious and very unlike her usual self.  “Thank God you got here safely,” she said, offering Henry a soft smile before turning and entering the hospital.  She led him to an elevator, which after inputting a passcode, took them up to the President’s private wing.

Ellen was pacing back and forth, June was staring blankly out a window, Oscar was talking to someone on the phone, and Leo was watching his wife, looking helpless.  When Henry appeared, Ellen startled before pulling the Prince into her arms, holding him like her life depended on it.  “Oh darling,” she said, and Henry broke.  Choking, ugly sobs left his mouth, and his knees gave out. Ellen maintained her grip on him, sinking to the ground with him.

“I know, baby, I know,” the President soothed, and Henry burrowed into her arms.  After several minutes, Henry calmed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  “Is he…”  “He’s in surgery, darlin’,” she responded.  “Has been for hours.  Doctors have been out a few times, so far he’s stable.”  Henry nodded, trying to process everything.  “W-what happened?”  Ellen shrugged.  “We don’t quite know.  They don’t think Alex was targeted, which is something…”

Henry almost laughed.  His boyfriend was lying on an operating table with a gunshot wound, he had nearly died.  What did it matter if he was the target or not?  But he only nodded.  “Have you eaten, Henry?”  The Prince shook his head.  “Do you want anything?”  Another shake of his head.  “Alright.”  They fell silent, and after several minutes, Henry extricated himself from Ellen’s embrace, moving to sit next to June.

She said nothing, but took Henry’s hand, squeezing hard.  Henry squeezed back, resting his head against the window.  Alex would be alright, he had to be alright.  He laid a hand on his chest, feeling the chain and key there, tears pricking at his eyes.  “My love,” he whispered.  “Alex…”  Maybe he dozed off, maybe he didn’t, but when a doctor walked in, Henry bolted upright, his heart in his throat.

“Madame President, I’m Dr. Lewis,” she said.  “I was the attending surgeon on Alex’s case.”  Ellen nodded, her arms crossed over her chest.  Dr. Lewis saw Henry, and her eyes widened slightly, but she pressed on.  “I am pleased to tell you that Alex is stable and out of surgery.”  Ellen let out a sob, and Henry let out a shuddering breath, gripping June’s hand even tighter.

“He lost a substantial amount of blood, but we have a transfusion running and we’ll be monitoring his numbers.”  “How bad was the injury?” Ellen asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.  “The bullet struck Alex’s right kidney.  Now, the kidneys are very vascular organs, which accounts for his blood loss.  We were able to remove the bullet and attempt to reconstruct the kidney, but there are no promises on that front.  The good news is that we all have two kidneys, and you only need one to survive.  Of course, we’ll be keeping a close eye on Alex’s renal functions and other things like his blood pressure, but in my professional opinion, he is out of the woods.”

Ellen surged forward and shook Dr. Lewis’ hand, tears in her eyes.  “Thank you, doctor,” she said.  “Thank you so much.”  “It’s my pleasure, Madame President.  He’s still asleep, but he should be awake soon, if you’d like to see him.”  Ellen nodded, looking back at Henry.  “You comin’, Sugar?”  It took a moment for Henry to realize she was talking to him, and he nodded, slowly getting to his feet.  Side by side, the President of the United States and the Prince of England made their way to Alex’s hospital room, equal parts nerves and excitement filling their minds.

#firstprince #firstprince fluff #alex claremont diaz x henry fox #alex x henry #henry x alex #tw: gun violence #tw: shooting #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb #red white and royal blue

[ausetkmt]

In addition to AI, the 10 Million Names Project is employing oral histories and archived documents to help identify 10 million enslaved people in pre- and post-colonial America.

When journalist Dorothy Tucker first learned about the 10 Million Names genealogical project, it helped amplify memories of long car journeys from Chicago to “Down South” in the 1960’s, where her mother’s family owned land.

The Mississippi property purchased by her great-grandfather George Trice in 1881 was special for several reasons. First, nobody’s really sure how a formerly enslaved man was able to purchase 160 acres, but Trice came up with the $800. And every time Tucker and her family drove down to Shannon, Mississippi each summer to visit relatives, it was more than just a vacation.

“I'd wake up in the morning and have breakfast at my aunt's house. I'd go a few feet down the road and have lunch at my great-aunt's house. And then I'd play outside at my cousin's house,” says Tucker, an award-winning investigative journalist with CBS2 WBBM-TV in Chicago. “It was that way all day long. Every house was owned by a relative. I thought everybody lived like this. I thought everybody had land and stuff that was theirs.”

Tucker finally got specific details about how and why that land was purchased during the final months of her term as president of the National Association of Black Journalists. In early 2023, NABJ Board Member Paula Madison, a retired NBC Universal executive, informed the group about an offshoot of the Georgetown Memory Project, the initiative that unearthed information about the 1838 sale of enslaved Africans to fund Georgetown University. The 10 Million Names Project was created to recover the names of an estimated 10 million men, women and children of African descent who were enslaved in pre- and post-colonial America between the 1500’s and 1865. By engaging with expert genealogists, cultural organizations, and family historians both Black and white, the initiative hopes to provide more African Americans with information that only formally began to be captured for their ancestors in the 1870 United States Census.

Up until that year, enslaved Africans and their descendants were only acknowledged as the property of their owners. If their existence was noted, it was in the form of sales documents or as catalogued property in civil records. Also, the relatives of enslavers often maintain troves of information about those purchased and sold off that would otherwise be completely lost.

(This database is helping to uncover the lost ancestry of enslaved African Americans.)

Much of the work will be dependent on oral histories passed down thru generations of families, and researchers of the 10 Million Names Project also hope that more white families will aid in the search by making familial records, like letters and pages from family bibles, available to them.

Tucker, who ended her term as NABJ president during that organization’s annual conference in August, revealed at the awards banquet in Birmingham, Alabama that she’d been able to learn more about her great grandfather’s real-estate ventures, through a collaboration between NABJ and the New England Historical Genealogical Society’s American Ancestors initiative.

The 10 Million Names Project was formally launched at the convention. Tucker considers it an especially timely parting gift to her journalistic colleagues. As societal divisions along racial lines widen, hate crimes continue, and attempts to ban books and curtail African American studies programs in schools and universities increase, strengthening historical knowledge is urgently important for Black Americans, Tucker says.

“I think that the ability to tell these stories and to know them is so critically important,” she says. “When you know your personal story, then as a journalist, it gives you the perspective to dig deeper when you're doing the next story, whether it’s about the school board or about Ukraine or the next elections. You know, these stories are all tools that are really good for all of us.”

How the initiative evolved

The man who is the catalyst for the Georgetown Memory Project and 10 Million Names says he’s never really been interested in investigating his own family tree.

“To me, genealogy was sort of like butterfly collecting,” says Richard Cellini, a faculty fellow at Harvard University and founding director of the Harvard Legacy of Slavery Remembrance Program. “It’s impressive because of the amount of effort invested into it. But I never quite understood the point.”

Cellini was born in 1963 in Central Pennsylvania to a Penn State University professor and homemaker mother. His Catholic upbringing steered him to Georgetown University and an eventual decade-long law career before pivoting toward the software and technology realm. In 2015, Cellini learned that his alma mater had formed a working group to explore the sale of 272 men, woman, and children in 1838 to rescue the university from bankruptcy. As a white American of European descent, he says he did not live with or know many Black people growing up, going to school or during his legal and technology careers, so the initiative opened a window in his mind.

When Georgetown President John DeGioia invited alumni to weigh in, Cellini wrote an email asking one simple question that had nothing to do with the university. He wanted to know, “What happened to the people?”

Cellini says a senior member of the working group wrote back to say that research had concluded that all of the enslaved men, women, and children had died fairly quickly after arriving in the swamps of Louisiana where they had been transported.

“And I remember just staring at that email, even though I didn't really know much about the history of slavery or African American history, and just thinking that just doesn't make any sense,” Cellini says. Curiosity drove him to form an independent research group, funded initially through his own credit card and then from other Georgetown alumni who eagerly offered financial backing. To date, the Georgetown Memory Project has fully identified 236 of the 272 enslaved people sold by the university's leaders. Of those identified through archival records, the project has verified more than 10,000 of their direct descendants.

“The 1838 slave sale at Georgetown brought home to me, again, they were real people with real families and real names,” Cellini says. “More than 50 percent of them were children. William was the youngest, and he was six months old. And Daniel was the oldest at 80. Len was sickly, and Stephen was lame. I mean, this is all from the original documentation. From that moment on, I just couldn't get it out of my head.”

The gathering of history

The genealogists and historians connected with the project suggest that the richest vein of information may well be in the oral histories they’ve already begun gathering through hundreds of interviews. They contain fascinating stories like the ones that Kendra Field’s grandmother Odevia Brown used to tell about her African American and Native American forebears in Oklahoma. When Field was in high school, she never really liked history classes, but she always loved her grandmother’s stories.

“It wasn't until I got to college that I realized, thanks to a wonderful professor, that my grandmother's stories were history,” Field says.  After the death of her father, Field began to travel back to those historically Black Oklahoma towns to explore her African American and Creek Indian heritage. Now in her career as a historian, author and professor at Tufts University, Field also has taken on the role of chief historian for 10 Million Names.

Technology, including the use of artificial intelligence programs, is allowing project investigators to do quicker, more efficient searches for information. Field says that can happen by identifying the location of plantation ledgers, advertisements, and receipts from auctions. “Particularly, there's been a lot of advancements made in optical character recognition, which allows researchers to identify names and handwritten records,” Field says. 

Prior to this, a researcher had to find the document, transcribe the information, and then pivot to another database to go deeper. But with the development of other genealogical data sets such as Enslaved.org, locating individuals and making connections becomes much easier. “So that means we can move closer to that 10 million much more quickly than we would have been able to even a decade ago,” Field says. Also, the collection at the Library of Congress, “Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936 to 1938” has yielded important clues from the estimated 2,300 people interviewed during that project.

(The search for lost slave ships led this diver on an extraordinary journey.)

Though identifying 10 million people who were never meant to be known as human beings may sound like a staggering task, the people behind the initiative believe it’s a totally attainable goal—even amidst all the current cultural and ideological turmoil in American society. That’s because, Cellini says, there are certain inalienable truths in this world.

“John Adams said that facts are stubborn things. You know, our Black brothers and sisters have always known their history and white people have always tried to prevent Black people from learning that history. What's new here is that white people are now trying to prevent other white people from learning this history.”

Cellini believes that Black Americans aren’t the only ones who want or need to know the full story. “It's white people who hunger for knowledge of that history, as well. It’s our duty to engage in determined resistance, to strike repeated blows for the truth. And nothing is more stubborn than facts.”

And like journalist Tucker, Cellini believes the search is infinitely for the benefit of the whole of society.

“The hard part isn't the finding,” Cellini says of the effort. “The hard part is the looking. But when we look, we find. And when we find, the whole world changes.”

#Africans #Black Lives Matter #Black Lineage #american freedmen #Black Freedmen #Black Americans #10 million enslaved Americans' names are missing from history. AI is helping identify them #10 million names project

[nightmarish-fae]

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)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

[liaromancewriter]

The Love Language Test

Premise: Sienna and Max explore which of the five love languages works for them.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,350

A/N: Requested by @storyofmychoices from this prompt list - preparing lunch. Submission for @choicesprompts Rewrite challenge. It's inspired by this Blue Bloods scene in S11 between Eddie and Jamie about their love language. I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 40, prompt 1 (in bold)

“What’s your love language?”

Sienna Trinh pursed her lips as she glanced over the top of the tablet and waited for Max Valentine to answer.

It was after dinner, and they were in his home office. He was catching up on emails while she was parked on the couch, keeping herself busy. She had started hanging out here when he wasn’t on calls and found it comforting to have him close.

“My, what now?” he asked without looking up, his hands flying across the laptop’s keyboard, eyes focused on the screen.

“Love language,” she said. “You know, the way you like to express and receive love. There are five of them, but we each have one or two that speak to us the most.”

Sienna explained patiently, repeating the words she’d read in an online article. “If couples communicate using each other’s love languages, the relationship can become even stronger.”

“Sex,” he chuckled, turning his head to wink at her. “Just let me finish here, and I’ll happily show you.”

Sienna rolled her eyes. “Be serious.”

“I resent that,” he joked, eyes back on the laptop screen. “I’m always serious about sex.”

“Why does Cassie know all about this, and you don’t?” Sienna mused, fighting back a yawn as she stretched out on the comfortable couch and pulled a fleece blanket over her legs to keep them warm.

Until recently, she had been under the impression that as twins Cassie and Max were more alike than different in their tastes and interests. But she was slowly realizing the error of her ways.

Cassie loved junk food, and Max was all about eating healthy. Cassie inhaled coffee by the gallons. Max preferred tea. She was an optimist and a big believer in fate. Her brother was a realist and inherently skeptical. And yet, Sienna loved them equally but in completely different ways.

“I keep telling you, babe. We’re twins, not clones,” Max retorted. “Besides, Cassie majored in psychology at Georgetown and has always been interested in this stuff. I’d be surprised if she didn’t know it.”

Sienna rubbed her eyes and checked the time at the top of her screen. She should get up and get ready for bed but felt way too comfortable to move. She’d just started a new job last week, and her body was still adjusting after a two-month break.

That reminded her. She still had to put her lunch together for tomorrow. She’d meant to do it earlier, but it slipped her mind.

She yawned again and fought to keep her eyes open, losing the battle as she sank deeper into the couch.

Sienna woke up the next morning in their bed wearing the Wharton tee shirt she’d stolen from Max’s closet. Slightly disoriented at first, she gazed at the ceiling as she tried to remember the events of last night.

She remembered bantering with Max about love languages, and then her memory was fuzzy. She had wanted them to do an online quiz, but she must have fallen asleep before she could suggest it.

Sienna really wanted to learn his love language, and hers too in this relationship.

Max had arisen before her as usual, but his side of the bed wasn’t cold to touch, so it must not have been long. She yelped when she saw the time and quickly climbed out of bed.

A short while later, she was dressed for work except for tying back her hair. Desperate for coffee, she rushed into the kitchen to throw some snacks together since she wouldn’t have time to make anything.

She pulled up short at the sight of Max behind the counter and delicious aromas wafting from the stove.

“Good morning,” he said affably, walking around the kitchen peninsula to lock his hands around her hips and buss her on the cheek. “You look beautiful today. You should wear your hair down more often.”

He turned away to pour coffee and handed her the mug. “Heard you moving around and figured you’d need this before long.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, enjoying how his hand lingered over hers around the mug before he let go.

She sighed in pleasure as the first hint of caffeine hit her taste buds. “Something smells amazing, and it’s not just the coffee.”

Sienna watched him above the rim of the coffee mug. He wore the loose pants and tee shirt he’d slept in and hadn’t showered or shaved.

“I made you lunch,” he said, voice muffled as he reached inside the lower cabinet for a roll of wax paper. “It’s a roast beef melt on a French baguette with caramelized onions and sautéed mushrooms. Just the way you like it. ”

Sienna felt her heart turn to mush as he deftly wrapped the sandwich and covered it with foil to keep it warm. That’s when she noticed her lunch bag on the counter, the cover unzipped and flipped open. Inside were a trail mix snack, a small container of strawberry yogurt and three chocolate chip cookies.

Setting her mug down on the counter, Sienna moved into Max and wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back to meet his puzzled gaze.

“Thank you for this,” she nodded toward the lunch, “and knowing exactly what I need.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, cupping her face. “Taking care of you is my absolute pleasure. I’m so grateful fate brought us together.”

“I thought you didn't believe in fate,” she teased.

“I didn’t...until I met you.”

She smiled dreamily at the words, stretched on her toes and kissed the underside of his jaw.

Max tenderly put two fingers under her chin, raised her face, and then lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was short, sweet, and perfect for the moment, she thought, their foreheads leaning against each other.

“Let’s have a quick breakfast, and then I have to grab a shower and get dressed,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll make sure to be at home on time today. Maybe we can watch a movie or hit the blues club? A night out on the town. Would you like that?”

Sienna shook her head out of a daze as she glanced around the kitchen, her eyes narrowing as she put two and two together.

“Wait a minute.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Did you just practice the five love languages on me?”

She held up one hand and started counting. “Gave me coffee, complimented my appearance, kisses and hand touches, made my lunch, and a mouthwatering one at that, just because, and now quality time as a couple.”

Max just shrugged. “I read up on them last night, and they looked interesting. I didn’t know which was yours, so I figured I’d run an experiment and do all five.”

“I find that incredibly romantic,” Sienna admitted, mind boggling at the lengths he’d gone to at such short notice. “And also mildly terrifying because of how good you are at them.”

He smirked. “What can I say? Valentines are competitive as fuck and overachievers when we go after what we want.”

Max reached for her hand and tugged her close. “By the way, your love language is definitely acts of service. You practically had heart eyes when you looked at the lunch bag.”

“I know,” Sienna said. “I’ve always done things like this for everyone, but someone is looking after me for the first time in a long time. And it makes me feel so cherished.”

He squeezed her hand in acknowledgment. “In case you’re wondering, mine is quality time. I know I can be a workaholic at times. Okay, most of the time,” he amended when she made a face. “But spending time with you, just us, even if it’s having you hang out in my office while I answer emails? That’s what I love most.”

Hand in hand, they stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes locked on each other. They needed to get to work, but both were loathe to let go of this perfect moment.

“Five more minutes?” she whispered.

“Five more minutes.”

---------------

All Fics & Edits: @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Max & Sienna only: @aallotarenunelma @storyofmychoices @kyra75

#open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #sienna trinh #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices fanfics #writers on tumblr #choices fanfiction #short story #my writing #sienna trinh x max valentine

[dedalvs]

Kopikon is coming!!! Kopikon is a conlang conference to be held at Georgetown University on September 23rd, 2023. It's a live in person event, but I'm now happy to report WE WILL BE LIVE STREAMING! The link above is your live stream link! Save it, and come check it out on September 23rd! The schedule is below:

10:00 a.m. Opening remarks by Jessie & David

10:15 a.m. Sally Caves

10:45 a.m. Carl Buck

11:15 a.m. Break (20 minutes)

11:35 a.m. Sylvia Sotomayor

12:00 p.m. David Peterson

12:30 p.m. Lunch (90 minutes)

2:00 p.m. Paul Frommer

2:30 p.m. John Quijada

3:15 p.m. Break (30 minutes)

3:45 p.m. Music (Jillian and Andrew Aversa)

4:15 p.m. Jessie Sams

4:45 p.m. Break (15 minutes)

5:00 p.m. Biblaridion

5:45 p.m. Marc Okrand

6:30 p.m. Closing remarks by David & Jessie

Thanks for your patience! We look forward to you tuning in!

#conlang #language #klingon #valyrian #high valyrian #game of thrones #got #house of the dragon #hotd #star trek #st:tng #st:disco #ithkuil #halo #sangheili #snb #s&b #shadow and bone #shadow & bone #kēlen #grishaverse #teonaht #trigedasleng #the 100 #clexa #motherland #motherland fort salem #switches #slakkru #fort salem

[feysplendent]

Stomping around a hidden gem in Georgetown, a quiet little pinball arcade bar.

So much nostalgia playing the Jurassic Park and Lord of the Rings pinball machines.

We found this on accident waiting for our lunch destination to open.

We hope to visit again with real time dedicated to hanging out.

#life blogging #pinball #arcade #lolita fashion #casual lolita #eglfashion #egl coord #pnw lolita #queer fashion #alternative fashion

[beardedmrbean]

The leaders of No Labels, a group preparing a potential independent presidential ticket, have asked the Justice Department to investigate potential criminal charges against a range of Democratic-leaning groups and activists who have been opposing their effort.

The group, in a Jan. 11 letter signed by former senator Joseph Lieberman (I-Conn.), former North Carolina governor Pat McCrory (R) and others, argues that a public and private pressure campaign to discourage donations to No Labels and support for the ticket goes beyond legally protected political speech.

“It’s one thing to oppose candidates who are running; it’s another to use intimidation tactics to prevent them from even getting in front of the voters,” the letter reads in part.

The Justice Department has not responded to the letter, according to No Labels leaders. The group scheduled an event at the National Press Club on Thursday to announce the letter.

The argument that the group puts forward in the letter is untested and unusual for a political group. Efforts to pressure donors, candidates and endorsers from taking various actions are the currency of politics, and courts generally give significant leeway to campaigns to compete publicly and privately for support.

Dan Webb, a Chicago attorney and No Labels volunteer who also signed the letter, said the group hoped any federal investigation turned up more evidence of wrongdoing.

“We don’t have subpoena or grand jury powers,” Webb said in a statement, about why the group had not filed a civil lawsuit yet. “We cannot do the type of investigation that is needed like DOJ can.”

The letter details a number of incidents that the group’s leaders believe go beyond the regular rough and tumble of politics. This includes an electronic billboard featuring photographs of No Labels CEO Nancy Jacobson and her husband, former Democratic consultant Mark Penn, that was driven around Georgetown during the weekend of the 2023 White House Correspondents’ Association dinner.

“There is no place for MAGA hate in Georgetown,” the billboard read.

Others involved in the No Labels effort have had their reputations or future business opportunities threatened, the letter reads. One supporter of the effort, co-founder Holly Page, says another Democrat warned her during a private lunch about her involvement with the presidential effort and asked her about what one of her personal clients thought about. Weeks later, an attorney for that client called to end their business relationship, she said.

Opponents of No Labels, a category that includes a range of outside Democratic groups and operatives, have publicly declared their intent to put pressure on donors and potential candidates to steer clear of the group. They point out that third-party candidates have no modern record of success in presidential politics, and there has been no polling that shows the group, even without a named candidate, has a clear path to a victory in the electoral college.

They argue that any No Labels candidacy will probably draw more votes from Democrats than Republicans, potentially delivering a win to former president Donald Trump, who is leading the race for the Republican nomination.

“We are worried about any third party. We realize it is a free country. Anybody can run for president who wants to run for president,” former congressman Dick Gephardt (D-Mo.), who is leading one effort to oppose No Labels, said in December. “But we have a right to tell citizens the danger they will face if they vote for any of these third-party candidates.”

Audio of an anti-No Labels meeting acquired by Semafor quoted one opponent of the effort as suggesting that anyone involved would have their records searched for any embarrassing details. “If you have one fingernail clipping of a skeleton in your closet, we will find it,” the person said during the call, according to Semafor. “If you think you were vetted when you ran for governor, you’re insane. That was nothing. We are going to come at you with every gun we can possibly find.”

Ballot Access News, which tracks ballot registration, reported that No Labels had gained access or finished the process for access in 16 states in December, including key battlegrounds such as Arizona, Nevada and North Carolina.

Benjamin Chavis, a national co-chair of No Labels who also signed the letter, said that efforts to stop the group’s progress were undemocratic.

“When they prevent No Labels from getting ballot access, they’re really preventing the American people from getting ballot access,” he said.

Sorry bout the format, link didn't want to attach

#nunyas news #why do these people hate democracy so much

[forestgreenivy]

A foggy day along the Waccamaw Neck. The first picture was an incredible view. Driving above a thick cloud hovering over the Winyah Bay in Georgetown. Pictures can’t really describe how vast and strange this phenomenon felt.

Then a beautiful view of that fog over the marsh lands spanning from the Waccamaw. Crazy that I can casually grab lunch somewhere so beautiful.

#coastal aesthetic #Georgetown sc #Winyah #Lowcountry #South Carolina #marsh #foggy #fog #winter #clouds #naturecore #outdoors #nature #wetlands #swamp #swampcore #swamp aesthetic #beach aesthetic

[mercurygray]

hiiiiii you know i have to ask about the bitb/rowing idea!! dick taking up rowing is something i never knew i needed until now haha

She never thought she'd see another regatta.

College felt impossibly far away from where Joan was sitting in the grandstands of the Potomac Rowing Club - the sweaters, the flags, the weight of Ben's fraternity pin on her jacket. The world had looked different, in 1939 - and while she remembered that she liked a great many things about Bennett Hilliard, she also remembered being quite sure that becoming Mrs. Hilliard while he want to law school wasn't in her cards. Still, he'd come from the right sort of family and danced well and she'd liked the way she felt in his arms. Everyone at Poughkeepsie had been talking about Helsinki, and how it was a shame no one would be able to follow up the miraculous success of the UW team at Berlin.

The river in front of her today, however, was not the Hudson, and ten years was a long time in between races - a lot of water under many, many oars. Bennett Hilliard had gone on to marry some other Goucher graduate and she had gone to war.

Someone cleared his throat - a well-dressed man in glasses and a Syracuse scarf. "Captain Warren, it's so good of you to come out today. Your husband said we'd be seeing you. Usually we have to save Go Army for the football season. I like Dickie's chances - he's got to be one of the most natural rowers I've ever seen. It's Mort Greenstan," he said, holding out a hand for her to shake.

Joan finally placed the name, and abbreviated the smile that sprang to her lips hearing him called Dickie, a name he never owned to if he could help it. "The club chairman, yes, Dick mentioned you might stop by."

"Do you mind if I join you? I brought binoculars, in case you forgot."

"Thanks, I have my own," Joan said, patting the well-worn pair that had seen her through most of Europe.(She'd noticed the woman down the row a little had a lovely pair of pearl-handles on hers, but now wasn't the time for getting self-conscious. Joan Warren didn't follow things like fashion and if she wanted to bring her army binoculars to a regatta, she was damn well going to bring her army binoculars.)

"My, those have really been through the war, haven't they?" Mort said, trying to make a joke as he made himself comfortable on the seat next to her. Joan nodded serenely.

"Three campaigns in Europe and two combat jumps," she said, and smiled even wider when Mort went silent.

Down at the dock, the competitors were just getting into their sculls, each man wearing the colors of his own home club. A few colleges, here and there, Georgetown and Harvard and even Greenstan's Syracuse colors, and the other out of towners, Hudson and Annapolis and Newport. And there was Dick in his racing singlet and shorts, arms and legs all whipcord and muscle, and she allowed herself a good long look at the man she married. He caught sight of her in the stands and smiled, waving. She touched her hand to her lips, a small personal symbol of a kiss, and watched his smile widen.

The announcer was blazing through the names of the competitors, and she caught, almost missing it as it blew by, "-Colonel Richard Winters, rowing today for Potomac in the single men's sculls."

She had been just as surprised as anyone else when she'd came home from an assignment and realized there were muscles under his suitcoat that she'd hardly noticed when she left. "I joined the rowing club," he'd explained. "They were talking about it at lunch and Ken's a member, so I started going on Saturdays. It's a lot like running - the way you can lose your mind in it."

She'd nodded and agreed and made a joke about other things he could lose his mind in that required stroking, and that had been the last they'd talked about it for several hours, at least. But he'd kept at it until it was silly calling it a hobby, and now they were here, at a regatta, in the starting heats of a crowded and talented field.

The sculls were at the starting line, the rowers crouching into position at their oars, eyes ready for the flag. Joan tightened her grip on her binoculars and waited for the starter, her feet yearning for starting blocks and racing spikes, and a sudden surge of energy filled her as the flag dropped down and the race was on, and she was right there with him in his boat, shouting for the pace.

#i have written a thing #joan warren #postwar #mercurygraypresents #thirsty thursday

[iboatedhere]

☆ for Tarlos and the political/escort AU please 🥺

☆ - happy headcanon (Yours To Keep, Yours To Lose)

Grace wins the next election. It’s a hard fought victory, like they all seem to be these days, but for TK it feels like the sweetest. Carlos never got a job with the Vega administration. Instead he quietly worked on making his own name. The good thing about DC is that there’s always a new scandal or controversy to flood the news cycle. His name doesn’t stay in the papers as a high profile escort for long. He works for people he respects and can guide him down the right path. He talks to Gwyn a lot. He does some pro bono work. Once Grace wins he sits down for an interview and leaves with a job. By that time they’re living together in Carlos’ beautiful Georgetown loft and they take the train into work together every morning. It’s always crowded and they always end up offering their seats to someone who needs them. Carlos holds onto the rail that runs along the top of the trail and TK holds onto the strap of Carlos’ bag that falls across his chest. They don’t work in the same section of the White House so they say their goodbyes after the security checkpoint. Sometimes they have lunch together, sometimes they’re too busy. Carlos doesn’t let TK pull all-nighters anymore. He comes to collect him at the end of the day—occasionally giving him a one to two hour grace period depending on the circumstances—packs up his work, gets him bundled up in the winter months, and walks him out to the train station. They don’t talk about work, but they do talk about the new coffee shop that opened around the corner and their plans for the weekend. TK wants to sleep in, Carlos wants to go to the farmer’s market. They both know that TK will win out when he stretches his arms above his head and arches his back and Carlos will hover in the bedroom doorway, resolve crumbling, before climbing back into bed with him.

#911 lone star #tarlos #ask #tarlos fic

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Hemlock - Winter Soldier x Reader

Hemlock (Conium maculatum) - Meaning: Death

Summary: The Winter Soldier is deployed to take care of a seemingly normal person.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader (not so much a pairing though)

Word Count: 365

Warnings: Stalking, reader is a target for WS, guns, violence (non-graphic)

Day 21 is short af...not sure how I feel about it but here goes!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

His was not to wonder why or question orders. He was only to get the job done. That’s what he told himself as he trailed you, watched your every move while you made your way home from work. 

But sometimes he couldn’t help himself. 

Why did HYDRA want you dead? Was this a personal thing? Had you broken up with someone high up, or were you the illegitimate daughter of an enemy? As far as he could tell, you were harmless. You rode the metro home from where you worked an office job in Georgetown. You packed your own lunch. You wore sensible shoes and said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when you ordered dinner from the Indian place on the first floor of your building. 

While he watched you eat dinner, feed your cat, and change into pajamas, he still couldn’t figure it out. You settled on your couch and turned on your tv. 

Now would be the perfect time to take the shot. He looked through the scope of his rifle and centered the crosshairs on you, trigger finger inching closer to its destination. 

But then you dashed to your apartment door and opened it, revealing a tall, broad blonde man and it made sense. 

Steve Rogers. Captain America. 

You kissed him hello, and the Winter Soldier watched as Captain America’s hands lifted you up, pressing you close to him with his grip on your ass. Then he walked you to your bedroom. The curtain was drawn, so the Winter Soldier couldn’t see what was happening. 

He didn’t see you again until the next morning when you walked the Captain to your door, kissing him over and over before letting him go. You closed the door behind him, then leaned against it with a hand to your chest. 

You looked blissfully happy. Like everything in your life was going as planned. 

Until the Winter Soldier put three bullets in your chest from across the street. After that, your mouth went slack and the light behind your eyes went out. He watched as you slumped down your door, falling to a heap on the floor. 

“Target destroyed,” he said into his earpiece. “Ready for extraction.” 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #mcu fanfic #angst #winter soldier #the winter soldier #steve rogers #bucky barnes

[cammie-morgan-goode]

Seeing all the townsend-zach ask makes me literally BEGGING for you to please please please write even just a blurb about some of their dad-son bonding uwu

Zach looks around the campus of Georgetown. He knows that Cammie is in the building by the university’s hospital. Which is on Torndorf Road. Which is approximately 5.5 miles from the library walk.

“You know she’s fine, right?” A voice sounds from behind him.

Zach turns around, noting that he had been sloppy. How long had Townsend been standing there? How long had Townsend been tailing him?

Townsend shoves his hands in his pockets. “Don’t look so shocked. I’ve only been here for 90 seconds.” He says with a shrug.

Zach sighs and then raises a hand to rub the back of his neck. Before he has a chance to speak, Townsend beats him to it. “Walk with me,”

Zach follows him across the campus, following him away from Cammie. He knew that she was taking a test right now which is why he wanted to see her. He knew she had a routine. They’d go north west on O Street. And then on Wisconsin Ave, right on the corner is Cafe Georgetown. She would order a hot chocolate, even though it was 85 degrees outside. And she’d order a grilled cheese panini for lunch. And they would sit and talk and she would ramble on about whatever it was that she was learning in class. And she’d smile at him. And he’d finally breathe.

“Did you even hear a word I just said?” Townsend asks, taking a right towards the statue of John Carroll.

Zach rolls his eyes. “There’s a possible threat in Moscow. Rogue asset on the run from a possible splinter group even though my girlfriend and I have been systematically wiping them out for the past several months. So yes, Townsend. I did hear every word you just said,”

Townsend huffs. Of course the boy is good. Otherwise the CIA wouldn’t want him. Of course the boy heard everything he said. He was Solomon’s protege. He’d been trained for this. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

And Townsend hated that that thought sent a pang of worry through his gut.

“Anyways, it’s your call.” Townsend says. Like he always does.

“And what did Cam say?” Zach asks. Like he always does.

“She said and I quote, ‘you got it but I’m making the calls first.’ Whatever that means,”

Before Townsend even finished, Zach is laughing. Of course Cammie wouldn’t let him live Berlin down.

Townsend rolls his eyes. Those crazy kids. They remind Edward of Abby and him. And he kind of loves them for it.

“Oh Townsend?” Zach says before Townsend can disappear. Townsend pauses and looks over his shoulder.

“There’s a turkey croissant with mustard in your bag. And some cash for a hot chocolate. On me. Learn to take a lunch will ya?”

Zach looks down at his crossbody bag and watches Townsend fade away before opening it. Sure enough there’s a sandwich and some cash in the ziplock bag.

How he managed to pull that off will always be a mystery. But Zach was grateful to have someone look out for him the way that Townsend did.

Even if he could be annoying about it.

(Written by: @cammie-morgan-goode)

#gallagher girls series #gallagher girls #ally carter #cammie morgan goode writes #asked and answered #answered asks #answered #zach goode #zachary goode #edward townsend #townsend #Zach and townsend #townsend and Zach