#Presidential Recognition

[xtruss]

What You Need To Know About The Origins Of Black History Month

Black History Month is Considered one of the Nation’s Oldest Organized History Celebrations, and has been Recognized by U.S. Presidents for Decades Through Proclamations and Celebrations. Here is Some Information about the History of Black History Month.

— By Jesse J. Holland | February 1, 2024 | Associated Press

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. locks arms with his aides as he leads a march of several thousands to the court house in Montgomery, Alabama, March 17, 1965. From left: Rev. Ralph Abernathy, James Foreman, King, Jesse Douglas, Sr., and John Lewis (partially out of frame). (AP Photo)

How Did Black History Month Start?

It was Carter G. Woodson, a founder of the Association for the Study of African American History, who first came up with the idea of the celebration that became Black History Month. Woodson, the son of recently freed Virginia slaves, who went on to earn a Ph.D in history from Harvard, originally came up with the idea of Negro History Week to encourage Black Americans to become more interested in their own history and heritage. Woodson worried that Black children were not being taught about their ancestors’ achievements in American schools in the early 1900s.

“If a race has no history, if it has no worthwhile tradition, it becomes a negligible factor in the thought of the world, and it stands in danger of being exterminated,” Woodson said.

Carter G. Woodson in an undated photograph. Woodson is a founder of the Association for the Study of African American History, who first came up with the idea of the celebration that became Black History Month. Woodson, the son of recently-freed Virginia slaves who went on to earn a Ph.D in history from Harvard, originally came up with the idea as Negro History Week to encourage black Americans to become more interested in their own history. (AP Photo)

Why is Black History Month in February?

Woodson chose February for Negro History Week because it had the birthdays of President Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. Lincoln was born on Feb. 12, and Douglass, a former slave who did not know his exact birthday, celebrated his on Feb. 14.

Daryl Michael Scott, a Howard University history professor and former ASAAH president, said Woodson chose that week because Black Americans were already celebrating Lincoln’s and Douglass’s birthdays. With the help of Black newspapers, he promoted that week as a time to focus on African-American history as part of the celebrations that were already ongoing.

The first Negro History Week was announced in February 1926.

“This was a community effort spearheaded by Woodson that built on tradition, and built on Black institutional life and structures to create a new celebration that was a week long, and it took off like a rocket,” Scott said.

Why The Change From a Week To a Month?

Negro History Week was wildly successful, but Woodson felt it needed more.

Woodson’s original idea for Negro History Week was for it to be a time for student showcases of the African-American history they learned the rest of the year, not as the only week Black history would be discussed, Scott said. Woodson later advocated starting a Negro History Year, saying that during a school year “a subject that receives attention one week out of 36 will not mean much to anyone.”

Individually several places, including West Virginia in the 1940s and Chicago in the 1960s, expanded the celebration into Negro History Month. The civil rights and Black Power movement advocated for an official shift from Black History Week to Black History Month, Scott said, and, in 1976, on the 50th anniversary of the beginning of Negro History Week, the Association for the Study of African American History made the shift to Black History Month.

Six Catholic nuns, including Sister Mary Antona Ebo, front row fourth from left, lead a march in Selma, Ala., on March 10, 1965, in support of Black voting rights and in protest of the violence of Bloody Sunday when white state troopers brutally dispersed peaceful Black demonstrators. (AP Photo, File)

Presidential Recognition

Every president since Gerald R. Ford through Joe Biden has issued a statement honoring the spirit of Black History Month.

Ford first honored Black History Week in 1975, calling the recognition “most appropriate,” as the country developed “a healthy awareness on the part of all of us of achievements that have too long been obscured and unsung.” The next year, in 1976, Ford issued the first Black History Month commemoration, saying with the celebration “we can seize the opportunity to honor the too-often neglected accomplishments of Black Americans in every area of endeavor throughout our history.”

President Jimmy Carter added in 1978 that the celebration “provides for all Americans a chance to rejoice and express pride in a heritage that adds so much to our way of life.” President Ronald Reagan said in 1981 that “understanding the history of Black Americans is a key to understanding the strength of our nation.”

— This Article by Former AP Reporter Jesse J. Holland was Originally Published on Feb. 2, 2017.

[kkglinka]

Visiting my besties means access to a television, which means enduring mainstream media coverage of the presidential campaign, which means witnessing how completely gop originating propaganda has infused news pundits, and the effects of simple repetition and selective omissions has on lifelong liberal Democrats. Absolutely stunned at all the moronic suggestions about how he should just step down and let harris take over from ostensibly informed allegedly liberal pundits. She has no funding, biden's can't be transferred to her, no media presence and it would make the party as a whole look incompetent and unreliable regardless of her qualifications.

[odysseys-blood]

its so stupid to me when someone goes up to somebody (recently in the inboxes of palestinians doing their damndest to share information about whats going on with the genocide of their own people and some of yall still cant take being spoon fed this as if its the worst thing to happen to you to just pay attention (but it happens also after any catastrophe yall just rock up to anyone you judge an affected minority be it someone of another race, culture, gender, sexuality w/e)) and you ask "well who should i vote for"

thats your choice

when you turned 18 in the us of a you gained the right to choose whoever the hell you want on the ballot for president. nobody can make you vote for somebody or withold it. you make that decision. you should be able to think for yourself. do some research and stop talking out of your ass because that is literally the least you could do.

and also you shouldn't be going to someone (especially someone who this is of he least concern of) and go "well what do you think i think i have to vote for x because *despite every atrocity they've ever comitted* theyre still better than the other guy!" because what do you want? forgiveness? you made a choice. you also just told somebody that this choice WILL AFFECT that it was the only choice available to you (even though it wasnt). and then act like they should be grateful. like you're doing them a favor.

[saxafimedianetwork]

Alleged Trump Election Campaign Blueprint Aims to Recognize Somaliland

Analysts observe that even if @realDonaldTrump were to win the #Election2024 & recognize #Somaliland, the decision would be from the US point of interest, which is focused on combating #China’s growing influence in #Africa.

Continue reading Alleged Trump Election Campaign Blueprint Aims to Recognize Somaliland

[crypticdesire]

sometimes life feels like the truman show, especially when it comes to wearing masks. like most places, the majority of the people in my city don’t wear masks, and i encounter so many people who become uncomfortable or even irritated/hostile when they see someone who is.

i was volunteering and met the coordinator for the first time in person and she was like “look at you being good and wearing your mask. i really need to get better about it” 🧍we both know those are empty words bc if she really cared about the importance of wearing a mask, she would be wearing one….

[prozach27]

It’s wild the number of posts I come across where people act like voting for or supporting Harris and Walz in the election is tantamount to implicitly supporting genocide. You know what actually helps genocide? Doing nothing while pretending you have the moral high ground. America is deeply tied to Israel and there will be no candidate who is as critical of their actions as we want them to be. We as private citizens do not have the power to make the USA suddenly cease all activity with Israel and demand an uncompromising ceasefire deal. Instead, we have to get our hands dirty and decide what path forward will mitigate as much harm as possible. You have one presidential candidate saying Israel needs to finish the job and another saying that we can’t ignore the tragedies in Gaza while vocally supporting a temporary ceasefire. These are your two picks. Thinking any third party candidate has a shot when none have any wide-reaching name recognition less than 100 days before the election is a fever dream.

The question then becomes, are you willing to say you voted “correctly” by voting for someone who has no shot of winning but is most closely aligned to you? Or are you going to vote for who will do the least harm? The idea that voting for a president involves liking them is a fairy tale. The establishment will always be the enemy of civil rights and safety. You’re voting for which opponent you want in office. The writing is on the wall about which candidate will be less of an uphill battle to fight against, and sidestepping the responsibility of making that decision by throwing away a vote isn’t moral or intellectually groundbreaking - it’s cowardly.

[socialjusticeinamerica]

Game over as late entry candidates never win. Democratic Party PAC’s and large donors have been saying for weeks they don’t want Harris. Prominent elected insiders have been also saying they don’t want Harris. The far left members such as AOC backed Biden right to the end because he gave them many liberal victories and had the guts to take on bully Trump. Many see Harris as still too centrist/right leaning within the party which is bullshit because the Biden/Harris agenda was super liberal on the home front and arguably the most successful first term ever. Kamala cannot and should not be blamed for foreign policy issues with immigration and Isreal. That was Biden, the State Dept, and Isreali backed Congressmen. I told everyone from the start that f-ker Netanyahu was deliberately ignoring Biden’s demands for peace in order to make him look bad while giving Trump a boost.

The Republican oligarchs and their foot soldiers wouldn’t let a white into the Oval Office so expect their turnout to be large to block a women of color.

Ultimately this is due to the oligarch inspired attack launched through CNN against Biden. Their refusal to fact check Trump and the anti-Biden hysteria was the root cause of this mess. They have been on his case since he announced he would be running against Trump four years ago. Van Jones, Dana Bash, Scott Jennings and all the other pundits and anchors at CNN can go fuck themselves! And the same for the oligarch puppets at every other news outlet that jumped on the anti-Biden bandwagon.

It’s no coincidence that all these things happen at once beginning with the debate. The mass hysteria over Joe’s age, the false claims by CNN of him having dementia and Alzheimer’s, the outrageous SCOTUS decisions, the dismissal of Trump’s classified documents case, and every else. We’re seeing the not so invisible hand of the oligarchs at play. They own the Federalist Society and through them the SCOTUS and national judiciary. Oligarchs own the entire news media and social media companies. Oligarchs back the fake news talk radio, local news outlets, internet conspiracy sites and spend billions on Republican candidates. Koch and Walton each spend about a billion dollars in every presidential election year to back every Republican candidate for federal and state office. Now we have Muskrat giving the Trump Campaign $45 million a month. Can you imagine the sweetheart deals and tax beaks he will get?

Personally I’m going to back Harris 100% as she had the name recognition, experience, and the most political acumen. For VP it’s going to be more of a nuanced challenge. Two women or another person of color will sadly not fly in this turbulent time and we must do all we can to prevent a Trump takeover. The odds are stacked against us like never before but please don’t throw in the towel. Our freedom depends on it like never before.

VOTE FOR EVERY DEMOCRAT ON THE BALLOT THIS YEAR.

[robertreich]

Does the Constitution Ban Trump from Running Again? 

Donald Trump should not be allowed on the ballot.

Section 3 of the 14th Amendment prohibits anyone who has held public office and taken an oath to protect the Constitution from holding office again if they “have engaged in insurrection” against the United States.

This key provision was enacted after the Civil War to prevent those who rose up against our democracy from ever being allowed to hold office again.

This applies to Donald Trump. He cannot again be entrusted with public office. He led an insurrection!

He refused to concede the results of the 2020 election, claiming it was stolen, even when many in his inner circle, including his own attorney general, told him it was not.

Trump then pushed state officials to change vote counts, hatched a plot to name fake electors, tried to pressure his vice president into refusing to certify the Electoral College votes, had his allies seek access to voting-machine data, and summoned his supporters to attack the capitol on January 6th to disrupt the formal recognition of the presidential election results.

And then he waited HOURS, reportedly watching the violence on TV, before telling his supporters to go home — despite pleas from his staff, Republican lawmakers, and even Fox News.

If this isn’t the behavior of an insurrectionist, I don’t know what is.

Can there be any doubt that Trump will again try to do whatever it takes to regain power, even if it’s illegal and unconstitutional?

If anything, given all the MAGA election deniers in Congress and in the states, Trump is less constrained than he was in 2020. And more power hungry.

Trump could face criminal charges for inciting an insurrection, but that’s not necessary to bar him from the ballot.

Secretaries of State and other chief election officers across the country have the power to determine whether candidates meet the qualifications for office. They have a constitutional duty to keep Trump off the ballot — based on the clear text of the U.S. Constitution.

Some might argue that voters should be able to decide whether candidates are fit for office, even if they’re dangerous. But the Constitution sets the bar for what disqualifies someone from being president. Candidates must be at least 35 years old and a natural-born U.S. citizen. And they must also not have engaged in insurrection after they previously took an oath of office to defend the Constitution.

Section 3 of the 14th Amendment has already been used to disqualify an insurrectionist from continuing to hold public office in New Mexico, with the state’s Supreme Court upholding the ruling.

This is not about partisanship. If a Democrat attempts to overthrow the government, they should not be allowed on ballots either.

Election officials must keep Donald Trump off the ballot in 2024. 

Democracy cannot survive if insurrectionists hold power in our government.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mira Lazine at LGBTQ Nation:

Yesterday, a group of “gay furry hackers” known as SiegedSec released 200 gigabytes of leaked data from the Heritage Foundation on their Telegram, a group texting application. “This breach can help shine light on who exactly is supporting Heritage, and also encourage people to fight against them even more than before,” said a member of the group known as “vio” to LGBTQ Nation. “I believe it’s also worth noting, this could help show the amount of support Heritage has that’s provided by malicious users or bots from China,” she said while linking to a thread on X by journalist Jackie Singh, which analyzes the leak’s data.

The leak resulted from a string of hacks carried out by the group’s “#OpTransRights,” which targets groups opposed to trans civil rights. The Heritage Foundation in particular was targeted for its creation of Project 2025, a plan to install ultraconservative policies if former President Donald Trump wins the 2024 presidential election. Project 2025’s desired policies include strong restrictions on transgender care and denying any legal recognition of trans people’s gender identities.  LGBTQ Nation obtained access to the leaked data. It contains information from between 2007 and 2022, and it focuses primarily around the Heritage Foundation’s news wing, The Daily Signal. The data includes information on commenters’ email and IP addresses, along with information regarding those who had articles posted on the site.

[...] SiegedSec has targeted other groups and individuals earlier this year as part of #OpTransRights, including the ultraconservative outlet Real America’s Voice and a Minnesota church pastor who was accused of transphobia.

Project 2025 architects The Heritage Foundation got targeted by a gay furry hackers collective called SiegedSec. These heroes shined a light on Heritage’s bigoted ways.

See Also:

The Advocate: Gay furry hackers target Heritage Foundation

PinkNews: Heritage Foundation exec rages against ‘degenerate’ Gay Furry Hackers following hack

[kitchenisking]

Seires Fic Rec Part 13

Eighth Night of Chunnuka

Hot Nerd Alert by alisvolatpropiis - (Hot Nerd Alert) - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 4,537, sterek)

Derek can't believe he's actually doing this: taking a selfie snap of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks to prove to Danny that one, yes, he really does exist, and two, he really is that hot and thus he is totally justified in being too scared to make a move.

Or you know, even talk to the guy outside of the class they share.

In his defense, this isn’t just any guy. This THE guy. Hot Nerd. The utterly adorable but still somehow insanely sexy freshman in his twentieth century American Lit class who he’s been lusting over since the first day of the semester. If there were ever a time for him to be that person who tries to be subtle while taking snaps of other people, this is it. 

Inspired by this super cute fanart by prettiestalpha.

This is Home by JoMouse - (This is Home) - (Rating: T, Words: 3,451, sterek)

Derek gets a letter carrying a familiar scent from an unknown person. He drops everything and returns to Beacon Hills for the first time in fifteen years.

Written for A Very Sterek Summer. Day 5, Theme: Reunion.

If the ley lines you should follow by forestofbabel - ( Ley Lines ) - (Rating: T, Words: 52,111, sterek)

And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost.

“Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically a tradition at this point.”

“Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut. Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again. “You’re not- you can’t be. Who are you?”

All I Ever Wanted by gabby227 - (Presidential Stiles and First Husband Derek) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 24,297, sterek)

Based on a request on tumblr: 

In the midst of all of the Election 2016 craziness, I have discovered that I need President & First Husband Sterek. Either could have either position, but I’m really desperate for the ‘First Husband’ to be more interested in continuing their current career than getting involved in anything political. They show up for the really important stuff, but they don’t put much stock in the whole the ‘President’s spouse must do a political song and dance for the masses’. 

Or, rather, the first of several stories surrounding presidential!Stiles and first husband!Derek.

Reunion by Rising_Phoenix - (The New Hale Pack) - (Rating: G, Words: 5,221, sterek)

Stiles is in Beacon Hills, just in time for his ten-year high school reunion. Having been convinced to show up there, he meets the last person he wants to me, one Scott McCall, the werewolf who once had been his best friend, his brother, before he had told him that humans can not be part of a pack and abandoned him after graduation. But it's Scott who will be surprised by not only Stiles being there, but also by the backup that has decided to show up supporting him...

Pretty Little Wolf by ItsMe_Basil  - ( Pretty Little Wolf) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 82,164, sterek)

Derek has heard stories about the Spark -the kind of stories that would have his younger self cowering under the blankets. The kind of stories that had Derek stick close to the pack. But when Derek is in trouble, and the pack isnt around, Derek finds himself in the care of said Spark, and he finds out fairly quickly that he's not all he seems to be. Stiles, he finds out, isn't a villain at all. Derek's only heard one side of the story for four years, and now it's time for him to hear the other side from his mate. *-* "Pretty little wolf," he hummed, stepping closer and kneeling beside Derek. Even in his death fogged brain, he recognized the words spoken. The words that were tattooed along his hip bone. The man reached a hand out, long bony fingers brushing against Derek's jaw. That's when recognition dawned on him. He knew this boy -not personally, but he'd seen pictures. This was the Spark. The one Scott had warned him about since Derek had returned to Beacon Hills four years ago. His mate. "Fuck me," Derek gasped out, dropping his head on the step. "Let's get you better, first, shall we, Puppy?" The Spark hummed.

Not Quite According to Plan by Phlinting - (A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect ) - (Rating: Mature, Words: 23,261, sterek)

It's been eleven years since Scott was bitten by a feral werewolf and, despite his pack's many victories along the way, Gerard Argent's influence lives on. As the knowledge of the supernatural spread to the general population so did the hatred and fear of the unknown. The McCall pack has been picked off one by one and Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, and Peter Hale are the only three left, on the run and barely surviving.

But Stiles has found a spell. He has the magic, the spark, and his belief. He has his dad and Peter to help power it and he has the will and desperation to succeed.

He's going back to the Hale fire and this time he's going to stop it ALL before it starts.

It's the perfect solution. Too bad things never go quite according to plan...

Another Alpha by ThePornFairy - (Wash your hands) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,147, sterek)

When Stiles comes home with news, things don't exactly go as planned.

or

Wash your hands as thoroughly as Derek scrubs another alpha's scent off of Stiles skin

Blue Light (i'm waiting for it, that) by zanni_1 (zanni_scaramouche) - (In Your Eyes (the light, the heat) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 19,743, sterek)

Derek pays him to dance, Stiles enjoys the sex on the side, and that’s all that ties them together. Whatever else the enigmatic man does is none of Stiles’ fucking business.

Stiles works at a club owned by infamous Derek Hale, leader of the largest criminal organization this side of the country. As they twirl closer together police and rival gangs start to gain the upper hand, forcing everyone's loyalty to be questioned.

Body On My by nymphe - (Losin’ All My Innocence) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,333, sterek)

“I’m serious, Derek. Like really sensitive,” Stiles says, a little muffled by where he’s shoving his face into Derek’s shirt.

Stiles’ neck is sensitive. Derek takes advantage of it.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

President Lula, Canadian Prime Minister hold talks on Venezuela

The Planalto presidential palace reported on Tuesday (Aug. 13) that President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva received a phone call from Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. During the call, Trudeau expressed support for Brazil's efforts to defend democracy and transparency in Venezuela's electoral process. The results, which re-elected Nicolás Maduro for another term, are being contested by the opposition and several countries.

According to the palace, Lula remarked that “there is a history of missteps by the international community regarding Venezuela,” specifically pointing to the imposition of sanctions and the recognition of Juan Guaidó as president. In 2019, Guaidó, then the president of the Venezuelan National Assembly—controlled by the opposition—declared himself the country's president, with the backing of part of the international community. However, this recognition never materialized in practice.

In his conversation with Trudeau, the Brazilian president highlighted the coordination efforts of Brazil, Colombia, and Mexico to normalize the political situation in the neighbouring country. “The most important thing is to keep South America free of conflict, with prosperity and harmony,” said Lula, as he emphasized the importance of dialogue between the Maduro government and the opposition.

Continue reading.

Tagging @allthecanadianpolitics.

[sheisraging]

If you're considering not voting or casting a pointless 3rd party vote in the upcoming US elections*, I'd urge you to read about Project 2025, which is the Republican transition plan for if they win the 2024 election (link is for the wiki page, not the actual website).

A short summary:

Project 2025, also known as the Presidential Transition Project, is a collection of policy proposals to fundamentally reshape the U.S. federal government in the event of a Republican victory in the 2024 U.S. presidential election. Established in 2022, the project aims to recruit tens of thousands of conservatives to the District of Columbia to replace existing federal civil servants—whom Republicans characterize as part of the "deep state"—and to further the objectives of the next Republican president. It adopts a maximalist version of the unitary executive theory, a widely disputed interpretation of Article II of the Constitution of the United States, which asserts that the president has absolute power over the executive branch upon inauguration.

Among the many horrifying and notable points:

Abolishing the Department of Education, whose programs would be either transferred to other government agencies, or terminated. Basic research would only be funded if it suits conservative principles.

Promotes the ideal that the government should "maintain a biblically based, social-science-reinforced definition of marriage and family."

Proposed recognition of only heterosexual men and women, the removal of protection against discrimination on the basis of sexual or gender identity, and the elimination of provisions pertaining to diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) from federal legislation.

Individuals who have participated in DEI programs or any initiatives involving critical race theory might be fired.

Explicitly reject abortion as health care

Revive provisions of the Comstock Act of the 1870s that banned mail delivery of any "instrument, substance, drug, medicine, or thing" that could be used for an abortion.

Restrict access to contraception.

Infuse the government with elements of Christianity, and its contributors believe that "freedom is defined by God, not man."

Criminalizing pornography

Combat "affirmative discrimination" or "anti-white racism," citing the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Deploy the military for domestic law enforcement and to direct the DOJ to pursue Donald Trump's adversaries by invoking the Insurrection Act of 1807.

Recommend the arrest, detention, and deportation of undocumented immigrants across the country.

Promotes capital punishment and the speedy "finality" of such sentences.

Reform the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) so that the nuclear household structure is emphasized.

Give state governments the authority impose stricter work requirements for beneficiaries of Medicaid

Mandate that federal healthcare providers should deny gender-affirming care to transgender people

Eliminate insurance coverage of the morning-after-pill Ella (required by the Affordable Care Act of 2010).

Remove Medicare's ability to negotiate drug prices.

These are just a few things and I'm sure lots of people will be like lol this will never happen but lots of people said this about overturning Roe, as well.

*FWIW - I think it is absolutely valid to be angry, discouraged, and disappointed in our current administration.

Be mad at Biden! (though I would encourage looking into some of the actually positive things his administration has achieved).

But also consider what's at stake for a huge population of this country if we wind up with a GOP win.

[fatehbaz]

the very Sacred Oak Flat is in danger of becoming an open pit copper mine. turning a sacred site into a 1000-ft pit. Apache Leap, ancient petroglyphs, extremely important rituals since time began; these things are Oak Flat. the federal government is ignoring many legal protections as well, including 200 yr old treaty promising to protect the land forever, national park designation, and on the national register of historic places. this project is so, so evil. I want people to know about it. Please read, talk, care about it.

Nice, thank you. The impending destruction of Chi'chil Bildagoteel by the US government and one of the planet's most infamous mining companies.

Over the past 3 years, I’ve written here about defense of Oak Flat, also called Chi'chil Bildagoteel by Chiricahua Apache from San Carlos reservation. (A summary of the site’s importance and history. A summary of the legal challenges to the mine. A summary of Apache Stronghold and other Indigenous-led campaigns. A photo collection featuring Indigenous-led actions in February 2021.) But all of these posts predate the developments that have occurred from the beginning of 2022 until now (March 2023). And the legal case, the fate of the site, is about to be settled this very month.

Well, then, there’s Rio Tinto, the copper mining leviathan, despised across the planet, bane of Australia, so-called Rhodesia, Latin America, Papua, etc. They're the second-largest metals/mining company on the planet. For well over a century, open-pit copper mines have been infamous for the scale of their destruction and I like how you describe it: giant pits, gaping wounds. Oak Flat is destined to belong to Resolution Copper, a subsidiary of Rio Tinto. Just before widespread news of Rio Tinto’s interest in Oak Flat, Rio Tinto had earned an especially-notorious reputation for destroying Indigenous/Aboriginal sites in Australia. A summary of the news about the “atrocity” at Juukan Gorge, when in May 2020, Rio Tinto destroyed an important sacred cultural site containing Indigenous shelters over 45,000 years old, and Rio Tinto leaders apparently had foreknowledge of the area’s cultural importance. Here’s a look at what is perhaps the oldest surviving human art on the planet, some petroglyphs and shelters up to 50,000 years old, being destroyed by the truly astonishing scale and diversity of destructive mining operations in Western Australia. And here’s a look at many other ancient and modern Indigenous sacred sites being destroyed by mining in that region.

Sacred Land Film Project put together some informational graphics:

Anyway, a basic summary.

Originally, this mine was kinda known as, like, “the John McCain Land-Grab Deal” because Senator McCain sold out the state of Arizona and Indigenous people by basically promising a formal transfer of land and the creation of what would become a major mining site at Oak Flat. Mining in the Oak Flat area was technically prohibited decades earlier by an Eisenhower presidential/executive order, but in December 2014, McCain sneaked a hidden last-minute rider onto a must-pass defense spending bill.

In May 2020, Rio Tinto gets caught destroying those sites at Juukan Gorge.

So, in October 2020, Indigenous activists discovered that the supposed date of the land transfer finalization had been quietly and suddenly moved up like a full year, meaning that the site might have become a mine beginning in December 2020 or January 2021.

At this point, the Oak Flat mine was becoming known as, like, “Trump’s Rushed/Hurried Mining Deal,” since the Trump presidential administration seemed to want to quickly act on the mine before any potential presidential transfer of power might occur in January 2021, “just in case” they lost the November 2020 election.

So this is when Apache Stronghold and other Native advocates really started finally getting national recognition in headlines. They organized a Day of Action and statewide events around the Solstice in 2020, and by January 2021, they had forced the case into court.

In the January 2021 case of Apache Stronghold v. United States, an Arizona judge ruled against Native advocates, but advocates got the case heard by the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals. While the case was being argued, in February 2021, Apache Stronghold also participated in a newsworthy relay from Oak Flat to the courthouse in Phoenix, when Native advocates held a candlelight vigil.

But in March 2021, the US Forest Service announced that it was temporarily withdrawing its environmental impact assessments for the land transfer, putting the mine on hold.

In October 2021, the three judges on the appeals court ruled against Apache Stronghold again.

Over a year later, in November 2022, the court then announced something unusual: The court was willing to rehear the case en blanc (before a panel of all 11 judges).

And now, “Biden’s attorneys” will be arguing against Apache Stronghold and for the land transfer.

Throughout this entire process, Apache Stronghold has consistently been vocal, active, and dedicated to stopping it.

Here are some headlines from the past couple of years:

And from March 2023, this headline, one more time, for impact:

So, beginning on 21 March 2023, the case is being heard, again, for what is presumably the final time, with US government attorneys arguing that the land will belong to the mining companies by summer 2023.

[secondhand-snow]

a question, (a promise)

jeryd mencken x f!reader (succession)

wc: 6.1k+

warnings: shitty politician (fictional), swearing, slight dub-con, slight abuse of power, drinking, smut, affairs, workplace relationships, cheating, grinding, thigh riding, fingering (f! receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), clothed sex (m!clothed, f! nude), biting, slight degradation, angst, light dom/sub, no use of y/n

summary: It's been several months since your first meeting with Jeryd Mencken, and many weeks since his involvement with ATN began your work together. What followed was hours of cocky smiles, over confident laughs, and unaddressed tension. Tension that finally snaps due to an party invitation, a vodka martini, and a conveniently empty hotel bar.

authors note: This is a longer one, but I wanted to start out strong for my first fic published on this account! Mencken was such a dick in the show, but I know he'd treat you so right in the bedroom. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

You didn’t mean for it to start this way.

Well, you didn’t mean for it to start at all, but if you had to choose a way to a begin an extramarital affair with an infamous American politician and presidential candidate, fucking him against the wall in a hotel room at 1 AM would not be your first choice.

And yet, when those blue-green eyes stared into yours, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, or how his smile-lines wrinkle as he smirks, but you don’t push him away. You don’t tell him to fuck off and run back to your apartment. Instead, gazing up at his face, your questions receding to the back of your mind, you pulled him back in.

You should have found yourself hating him, like Shiv, or maybe enthralled in him, like Roman, but you really felt somewhere in the middle. Your first meeting was in Virginia, at that Future Freedom Summit where Logan was flooded with more attention than the queen for three days straight. You were in the room when he brought Waystar’s CEO a coke, setting it onto his table like a trophy. Maybe it was the casual confidence in his voice, or the way his crisp white button up was rolled to expose his forearms, but you couldn’t help your eyes raking across his back as he left the room.

“That was nice,” Logan had said.

         Out of all the words you could use to describe Jeryd Mencken, “Nice” was not one of them. “Bastard,” “Fascist,” “Cocky,” and “Manipulator” all came to mind. But so did “Confident,” “Intelligent,” and “Charismatic.” Don’t get yourself wrong, you didn’t agree with his politics at all. But at the end of the day, you were devoted to Waystar Royco and ATN. And whatever worked for them, worked for you.

         You didn’t get to be in the photo that took place the next day, not important or close enough in relation. You lingered to the side, next to your few-times removed cousin, Greg, and out of view of the harsh camera lens. Mencken and you didn’t end up having too much interaction that weekend. A nod of recognition here, a handshake there. But by the time you left the conference, his boisterous laugh was echoing through the halls of your mind, and you just couldn’t stop thinking about his impenetrable gaze.

You remember Roman saying once that Mencken had told him that he “didn’t have a lot of boundaries.” That much became clear to you as you began to work with him. From your very first meeting at ATN, the man didn’t seem to have any issue with discussing personal topics or joking with his employees. You were used to humor in the workplace, I mean, you worked with Kendall and Roman Roy for fuck’s sake, but there was a stark difference in the humor between the Roy siblings and Jeryd Mencken. While their jokes bordered on sexual harassment, Mencken’s were backed by a teasing smirk and a good-natured laugh. You knew it was wrong, or at least weird, to be so enamored by this man. He was a borderline fascist, bible-thumping yuppie, but for some reason you allowed yourself to overlook the obvious flaws in the politician. And soon, you found yourself beginning to fall for his good looks and somewhat sleazy charms

         “You’re on in ten, let me know if you need anything.” You popped your head into the conference room where Mencken was waiting. It was his first in-person appearance on ATN, an interview with one of the hosts to help his relatively extreme political agendas seem a bit more palatable to the average  viewer. He was surrounded by his team of marketers, campaign managers, and other low to mid-ranking poli-sci majors, a thick stack of papers in front of him and a chorus of open laptops circling the table.

         “A kiss for good luck, maybe?” He lifted his head from his reading to give you a half-quirked grin. Nobody else paid you any mind, too engrossed in their work to give a shit about some random woman that probably out-ranks them making sure they’re on task. “I am half Irish, you know.”

         “You’re a white American man, of course you’re part Irish. But seriously. Get down to makeup soon, they want to do some touchups before you go on.”

         “I don’t need makeup,” he stressed the word need, like it’s so obvious his beautiful face shouldn’t be covered by any cosmetics.

         “Nobody needs makeup. It does help though” You lightly rolled your eyes as you stressed the same word as him and laughed at the reaction he displayed before exiting the room, heading to the stage as you pulled out your phone. An incoming text caught your eye, and you clicked off the email you had been reading to view it.

         Having a small celebration after the show tonight. Interested in coming? – Jeryd.

         It was something small that reminded you of his age, the signing of his name behind the text he sent. As if you didn’t have a contact for the man you’ve been working with for several weeks now. But still, a smile brushed your lips and you responded.

         Sure. What time?

         10, I’ll send the address.

         10? Isn’t that a bit late for your age? I thought you’d be tucked into bed by 8:30.

         Haha.

  See you soon, Mr. Mencken.

So, at 9:50 pm you found your driver pulling up to the curb outside The Four Seasons hotel in Manhattan. It figures that Mencken would book the most expensive hotel in New York for his stay. You were familiar with the building, having gone to enough work parties in the bar to make your way there without getting lost in the vast expanse of the well-decorated hallways and foyers. Brushing your hair out of your face, you checked your phone again. Refreshing your emails and messages, you had about a dozen new items to read, even though you were off the clock. One thing you learned early on about working in Waystar, the work never really stops.

          “Hey, look who showed up,” your attention snapped from the device in your hands to the source of the noise. Your eyes met Jeryd Mencken, whiskey in hand, moving from his spot atop a bar stool towards your direction. His smile was bright, and he was still dressed in his suit from earlier in the day, though now he was missing a tie and a few buttons at the top of his shirt. You noticed his blazer buttons were undone as he opened his arms wide to you.

“Here I am. I know, I know, you missed me.” You replied to his open arms with your own, giving in to the hug he initiated. Your arms circled around his neck and shoulders, his fall to your waist as you held each other for a moment. Maybe it’s the alcohol in his system, but you feel him rest his mouth against the top of your head, placing something close to a kiss on your hair.

“Yeah, I don’t get enough of you during 12-hour workdays. You want a drink?”

“Yeah.” The hug broke away and he smiled down at you, a look which you returned with a bit of reservation. You were far enough into the bar now from moving to meet Mencken that you only had to turn a bit to address the bartender. “Can I get a vodka martini?” A silent nod confirmed your order.

“Walk with me.” Jeryd whispered into the shell of your ear, stooping down a bit to level himself to your height. He offered an arm out to you, and you grabbed on with a hand as the two of you began moving through the crowded bar.

You saw a few familiar faces as you slowly progressed, which you greeted with small smiles and hellos. Mencken was stopped more times than you, something you had learned to accept when with him, but he was hasty in ending conversations as he pulled you through the crowd. It took longer than it should for the two of you to finally arrive at the empty booth in the back of the bar, but you were happy all the same to sit down on the cool red leather seat. He sat across from you, because of course he did, and you heard a small sigh escape his lips as he relaxed a bit against the seat behind him.

         Both of you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting in each other’s presence. There was something thick about the air around the table, something dark in the way he looked at you, eyes never leaving yours. You broke out of the haze as the bartender from earlier set your drink at the table, which you welcomed with an acknowledging smile. As you lifted the drink to your lips, he finally spoke.

         “I’m glad you came.” You swallowed thickly, a slight burn grazing your throat before opening your mouth again.

         “Well, I had to celebrate your television debut,” you responded with a small teasing smile, he scoffed a bit at your joking.

         “The numbers were good.” He said quietly, unwavering eyes still trained to yours. There’s something he’s not saying, you felt it in his short responses and slightly clenched jaw, the way he brought his whiskey glass to his lips and how his empty hand flexed a bit against the dark wood table. You hummed in response, taking another sip of your martini. It was quiet again for a moment, the two of you just staring and drinking, tension building until you broke it.

         “Is there something wrong? Did someone fuck something up?” You finally questioned him, shaking your head a bit as you spoke. He just smiled and exhaled through his nose, moved to lean forward and placed his elbows on the table.

         “It’s… personal,” he took his time answering, searching for the right word before he spoke. And you think you might have just messed everything up, ruined the unsaid attraction between you two. He hadn’t been one to shy away from personal topics before, you might have just pushed him too far. “But hey, marital issues are basically a rite of passage in the oval office,” he joked with a grin.

         “True, it’s probably a sign of your future. Might wanna get used to it,” you matched his tone. You knew it was fucked up to be attracted to a married man, a man currently talking about his troubles with his wife, but something about that smile sent a wave of shock down your stomach and found yourself subtlety squeezing your thighs together beneath your skirt. Regardless, he laughed at your answer, and you smiled at his amusement.

         You continued this way for a while, small talk and meaningless conversations just to make each other laugh. You poked fun at his age and he joked about your fucked up family. Around and around you go, drinks are removed and refilled, coworkers stop by for a few minutes before leaving, and others just wave before making their way out. The next time you checked your phone, two hours had passed and more drinks than you probably should have on a near empty stomach had been consumed.

         “Shit, I should get going. I have a meeting tomorrow I need to be ready for.” You mumbled a bit, looking down at your screen with cheeks flushed a light red from the alcohol in your system and the presence of Jeryd across from you. The bar was nearly empty by then, and completely devoid of your co-workers. Any last lingering customers were patrons of the hotel, and you were suddenly struck by the realization you were practically alone with him.

         “You sure? It’s late, I have a suite on the top floor and the guest bed is empty.” He had lost his suit jacket by then and pushed up his sleeves in the way you loved so much. His arms were open and rested on the top of the booth, elbows slightly bent and hands lightly gesturing as he spoke. You pressed your lips together, biting the bottom one and contemplated. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to stay, didn’t wonder what would happen if you accepted. It was a bad idea, you both knew it, backed by the gold ring on his left hand and the NDA you signed when accepting your job so long ago. Still, he cocked an eyebrow at your silence and beneath the table you felt the toe of his black leather loafers travel up the expanse of your leg. He started at your ankle, just above your designer heels and slowly moved up the inside of your lower leg, beginning to reach the inside of your knee. You had enough time to stop him, to move away, kick his foot away and leave the bar.

But you didn’t. You didn’t want to. So instead, you opened your mouth slightly, your bottom lip slightly wet from your bite to it earlier.

         “Yeah, okay. I probably shouldn’t be driving.” It was a half assed excuse and you both knew it. You barely drove, and you’d been dropped off at the hotel today so there was no way you were driving home in the first place. But maybe you needed some justification for yourself, something to make your subconscious just a little less guilty for what you were about to do. For what you wanted to do.

         Mencken didn’t press, though. He just nodded, tapping his toe lightly on the inside of your thigh before retracting it to stand up. The loss was sudden and a bit jarring, and it made you notice that you had been subtly leaning into his touch. He put back on his jacket, not bothering to roll down his sleeves as he moved beside the table to help you up, extending a hand to you. Slowly, you reached up and gently placed your hand in his. His skin was surprisingly rough for a man who worked a desk job, you could feel calluses on his palms and the tips of his fingers. He pulled some of your weight as you stood, reaching around with your free hand to smooth the back of your skirt and grab the handles of your small purse. When you met his eyes again, his pupils had grown and a smirk had landed on his otherwise stoic face.

“Lead the way,” you spoke so softly that your lips barely moved, your eyes looking up at him through dark lashes. He nodded again. His eyes dragged over the curves of your body before briefly returning to your eyes. As you began walking, your hand rose from clutching his to softly holding his arm just above the bend in his elbow. You maintained just enough distance between your bodies that the interaction could be passed off as polite, not the breaking point of months of unresolved sexual tension that it was. Mencken walked fast, you almost tripped over your feet a few times as you tried to keep pace with him. The halls were ornate, outfitted in marble flooring that left your shoes clacking frantically with your hurried steps.

The pair of you stopped briefly at the entrance to the elevators, and you took the time to quickly glance over your shoulder behind you, finding the room otherwise empty. You weren’t sure whether you should be relieved or disappointed. Relieved for a lack of witnesses. Disappointed that you couldn’t use a crowd as an excuse to call off the encounter. It would be for the better to forget about it, put the flirtations to an end and abort the budding affair. You were putting your job at risk, your credibility and your public image. Not to mention your relationship with your family.

He pressed the elevator button once, twice, three times. You opened your mouth slightly, the beginnings of a sentence forming on your lips when he moved his arm from your grasp, snaking it around your back to rest on your hip. He pressed the fabric of your skirt gently, and you found your side pressing against his. Warmth radiated through your body, going straight to your cheeks as a subtle blush started to grow. Your mouth was left hanging open, silently gasping for air as he delicately traced his lips in a small line over your hair. His large nose pressed into your scalp, you felt him slowly inhale the scent of your shampoo. The moment was the closest thing to tender you’ve ever experienced from him, and it’s over just after it starts.

A loud ding from the elevator dragged your attention from the feeling of Jeryd to the empty elevator in front of you. You looked from him to the space before you. He was watching you, of course. Waiting for your next move. Either into the elevator and a time of lies and careful discretion, or back to what you knew was safe. 

You walked into the elevator.

The second the hotel door clicks shut, Jeryd is on you. Pressing your back into the nearest wall, his hands cradle your face with a surprising amount of care. His knee slots between your legs and he takes a moment to just look at you. Your chest rises and falls quickly, mouth open and eyes blown wide with passion. 

“Tell me you want this.” He breathes into you.

“What?” You gasp out the question, mind too foggy with desire to quickly process his words.

“Tell me you want this. I need to hear it from you.” His hands move from cupping your face to grab your chin, your lips slightly pouting with the pressure on your skin. The air is silent for a moment before you answer.

“I want this. I want you.”

The words have barely left your mouth before it's covered by his, greedy and heavy and passionate. You move with him, slinging your arms around his shoulders and leaning into his touch. His tongue taps at your bottom lip before entering your mouth, tracing lines on the roof of it. You let out a quiet moan and his knee moves up between your thighs, granting you a source of friction for the heat building between your legs. You grind down on it unabashedly, sighing at the sensation that results. Jeryd smiles against your lips before moving one of his hands from your face to your hip, encouraging the movements you’re making against his leg. A whimper escapes your lips and he groans at the noise, your attention moving to the growing bulge you feel pressed into your lower stomach. 

He kisses you like a man starved. Like he could do it forever, just savoring the flavor of your lips. You move a hand from his shoulder to feel down the front of his chest and reach his crotch. Your fingers press lightly against the seam of his pants, rubbing the fabric just enough to earn a low growl from Jeryd’s throat and a restrained buck of his hips. His lips move from yours to travel down your neck, sucking your skin hard enough to leave bruises that’ll last the week. Your lips part when freed from his kiss and your neck falls slightly to the slide, allowing him more access to the small area not covered by your button up, office appropriate blouse. A small nip of his teeth causes you to squeeze the hand covering his groin, a movement that causes Jeryd to muffle a deep moan into the slope of your neck. 

“Fuck.” You sound wrecked, desperate, needy, and Jeryd’s barely touched you. You’re rolling your hips steadily now, too far gone to worry about his reaction. Pencil skirt hiked up, skin-toned stockings on display, you selfishly chase your own climax. Eyes flutter shut as you focus on the sensations enveloping your body. Jeryd’s wet kisses trailing down your neck, his hands possessive on your hips and chin, his leg sandwiched between your thighs and pressing roughly against your core. Two thin layers of fabric separating you, both providing a deliciously coarse texture against your sensitive clit.  Your panties are soaked, you wouldn’t be surprised if his slacks are left with a wet mark when he removes them. 

His hands move from their places to begin undoing the buttons on your top. Your eyes open with heavy lids as you watch him. He’s hurried, urgent, his brows slightly furrowed and his lips parted while his fingers move nimbly, making quick work of your blouse. You move to help him, together pushing the garment off your shoulders. He bends his knees slightly to level his face to your chests, and you momentarily whine at the loss of pressure against your vulva, but the sight your eyes are greeted with is worth it. His hands are immediately on your breasts, cupping you roughly through your bra and pushing your tits together as he plants sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your cleavage. It’s odd to see him like this, slightly bent over, serving someone other than himself and enjoying it. Hair ruffled and forehead damp with sweat, pupils blown wide, wide, wide, with lust. You thread your fingers through his salt and pepper hair, not pulling or controlling, just wanting to touch him.

The throbbing between your legs increases and your thighs clench together with nothing else to stimulate your core. You whimper, he chuckles at the sound, a vibration traveling through your chest and sending electric shocks straight to your center. Jeryd reaches up, moving the straps of your bra down your shoulders, not bothering to move his face from his attack on your breasts. You push it down to your waist, not bothering to unclasp the back, fully exposing your tits to him. Now he pauses, taking a moment to crouch down and sit back a bit on his heels, eyes focused on your body before him. Your immediate reaction is to cover up, but you hold yourself back when his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. When he finally meets your gaze, you're sure you must look wrecked, at least if his smirk is anything to go off of. 

“Look at you. So eager for my touch.” Jeryd speaks quietly, getting closer to you as his hands travel up your thighs to rest on the dip of your hips. His fingers dig in slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to control you and dimple your skin underneath his touch. One hand comes up, kneading the flesh of your left breast. The other moves to unclip your bra from behind you, letting it softly fall to the floor. You nod and bite your lower lip, knees knocked together as your thighs rub against each other, desperately chasing some kind of stimulation. Your eyes drop his gaze as you watch him palm your skin. 

“Please..” You whine out, blushing as you make eye contact again. Mencken laughs, only a little mean, takes your nipple between his fingers and pinches enough to make your voice squeak in your throat.

“If you want something you have to ask for it.” He cocks an eyebrow as he speaks and you swear you’re drooling at the look in his eye. You hesitate a minute before responding, feeling strangely self conscious and filthy.

“Please touch me, Jeryd. I need you.” He smiles and curses before returning his mouth to your breasts. A large hand creeps between your thighs, pressing gently on the soaked fabric of your panties. He speaks into your skin as he feels your need.

“So wet for me already. I wouldn’t have kept you waiting if I’d known how desperate you were.” His touch is feather light, and you feel your cunt clenching at the sensation. His hand doesn’t wait long, hooking your panties to the slide before he begins to slide his middle finger through your sopping wet folds. Your hips buck against his touch, he responds by moving a hand to pin your hip against the wall. Your head is thrown back now, resting against the surface behind you. Blush is hot on your face, you can’t figure out if it’s caused by shame, or desire, or the combination of both.

It’s not long before his fingers are gently probing your entrance, his middle digit entering you up to his second knuckle. You clench around him, moaning at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you. His thumb moves to your clit, spreading your wetness there as he massages small circles into the bundle of nerves. Instinctively, you try to move, try to grind down on his palm and take what you want. Jeryd’s hand keeps your back to the wall though, and he tsks at your disobedience. Your eyes move down and you find him staring back at you. You wonder if he’s ever looked away, or if he’s just been relishing in your desperation. 

His finger presses deeper, your folds met with the skin of his first knuckle. He curves the digit, gently pressing against that spongy tissue deep inside of you. When he finds it, he smirks, looks down at your exposed mound and briefly presses a kiss to your upper stomach. The finger moves, thrusting in and out of your cunt a few times before being joined by his index finger. It stretches just a bit, before the sensation is replaced by one of building pleasure. That heat you’ve been chasing courses through your core, your lips parting at the feeling. Shocks of pleasure course down your thighs as your clit becomes more and more sensitive. 

You were slightly shocked when your legs began to shake, kness almost buckling under the jerky motion. It normally took you much longer to climax when with a partner, but you had been so needy for so long that your orgasm was approaching at a rapid speed. Jeryd felt it too, wrapping a free arm around the back of your hips to help hold you up while your cunt clenches and flutters around his fingers.

“Come on, Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel.” He whispers, leaning his upper body back slightly to look deeply into your eyes. You barely hear him over the filthy sounds of wet skin and your increasingly loud moans. His words have to register somewhere though, and just a few seconds after he utters the command, you obey. Eyes roll back while you constrict around his fingers, gasps of air leaving your throat. Jeryd is relentless, finger fucking you through your orgasm until you’re overstimulated and practically pushing his hand away.

Your eyes haven’t even opened again when you feel him stand and crash his lips crash back into yours, his hands raking through your hair. Unhindered by his grip, you move your arms to press him against you, rolling your hips into his.You groan in unison, and Jeryd takes the moment to move one of his hands to the back of your skirt, quickly unzipping it. Your grip releases for a moment to push the skirt and your panties down your legs, kicking them off your heels further into the room. Neither of you bothers with your thigh high stockings or shoes, too engrossed in the feeling of your exposed skin to pay them any mind. 

The pair of you separate for a moment. Jeryd’s eyes travel down your body, a curse escaping his lips at the sight. You look vulnerable, powerless under him. He loves it. His lips go back to your throat and his hands reach for your breasts again. In turn, your hands fumble with a few buttons on his shirt, exposing the top of his chest before you abandon the garment and travel down to the seam of his pants. Your fingers linger on the zipper. Asking for permission or readying yourself or wanting him to tell you what to do, it doesn’t matter. All that matters in this moment is Jeryd Mencken and the passion burning through both your bodies.

He nods against your neck and you waste no time in undoing the button and zipper of his slacks. His boxers are black, your fingers flutter under the elastic waistband, stroking the soft skin there lightly. Your hand dips lower, past the mass of short blond pubic hair climbing up his lower stomach, settling on the base of his cock. Slowly, you begin to pump his length. When you reach his tip you dip your fingernail slightly into the slit there, and Jeryd rolls his hips forward in response with a loud groan. A wide smile graces your face, your hand surging faster in his boxers. 

“Fuck, take it out.” He traces his nose up the side of your neck, whispering into the shell of your ear. Of course you comply, how could you not? Your eyes dart down to his cock, getting your first good look at the skin there. He’s an average thickness but long, longer than you’ve taken before. With a slight curve upwards and a pink tip dripping with pre-cum, you clench around emptiness in sympathy. Your hand moves again, jerking him off as his head falls back and his eyes shut. You savor the sight before you. 

Jeryd’s eyebrows are raised and his lips are parted, completely and totally lost in his pleasure. His neck now exposed to you, you lean forward and press kisses along the underside of his jawline, trailing down to his Adam's apple. You’re careful not to leave marks, even if you nip a little at the sensitive skin that your lips brush. His eyes open again, and he grins at the coy smile on your face. He kisses you again, his tongue stroking the roof of your mouth, causing you to moan loudly into his lips before he pulls away.

“Here, wrap your legs around me. I’m gonna fuck you right next to this door, let the rest of the hotel hear how loud my cock makes you.” He moves against you, pressing his hips to yours, slotting his arms around your waist. You wrap a leg around the back of his hips before he helps hoist you up to wrap the other. His length is hard against your lower stomach, the tip spreading wet precum across the skin there. Your hand moves down, grasping it and pumping a few more times when Jeryd moves his hips back, creating enough space between you for his tip to brush against your folds. 

He tilts his hips again, rubbing himself across your pussy, catching on your clit just enough to make you rock your core forward to try and meet him. A breathy laugh escapes his mouth at your attempt, he rewards your debauchery by circling his hand around his base and roughly tapping his tip against the bundle of nerves. You sigh and let your head fall back, watching him move with heavily lidded eyes. Jeryd moves again, using his hand to position himself at your entrance. He teases you a bit, slightly shifting in and out without fully sheathing his cock inside of you. 

“Jeryd…” Your voice is whiney as you speak, but still carries an edge of warning with it. He just smiles that lopsided grin of his, takes a deep breath in, and presses fully into you.

There’s a slight stretch as you adjust to his length, you can’t help your mouth falling open in ecstasy at the feeling. As he bottoms out, he releases his breath with a groan and you feel his tip brush against your cervix. You’re needy and wanton, whimpering and moaning at his every twitch, wiggling your hips to try and get some relief as he keeps himself deep inside your cunt. His face is tucked into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You feel your entire being aching for him. Another mewl escapes your lips, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. He’s waiting for you to break first. So you do.

“Please fuck me.” Your voice is barely a whisper, your hands traveling to cup his chin. Jeryd surges forward, even deeper into your dripping pussy, and kisses you roughly on the mouth. He bites your lower lip, slightly pulling it with him as he moves away, and your hands find their place again on his shoulders. His hips move back, so far that his length almost slips out of you, before thrusting forward. He sets a brutal pace from the beginning. Hard and fast, pulling noises you didn’t know you could make from the depths of your throat. It almost hurts at the beginning, but then he tilts his hips and finds that spot inside of you, the one that lights a roaring fire inside your cunt. The pleasure is immense and all consuming, the only thing you can focus on as your head drops backward and your back begins to arch.

You don’t even recognize half the words leaving your throat. Strings of “please,” curses and mumbles come from your mouth, joined by the animalistic grunts and groans of Jeryd’s approaching climax. Your fingers tangle in his hair and this time you pull, earning a deep moan from his parted lips. The sex feels primal and wanton and borderline violent. The culmination of heavy pressure. A cord stretched as tight as possible and then some, the snapping of which caused depravity and perversion for all those involved.

 He grinds into you roughly, hitting your g spot perfectly with every thrust. Your hand moves down to rub frantic circles into your clit, repeatedly murmuring a line of “yes”’s as you stare deeply into Jeryd's eyes. You know you’re pathetic. Begging and pleading him to fuck you harder, the wet slick from your cunt spreading onto both of your thighs, causing truely obscene sounds to fill the air. 

“Fuck, look at you. My pretty little slut..” He groans out, punctuating his words with strong bucks of his hips. “Cum on my cock, you’re fucking mine” he says, adding your name like it’s a divine word. 

That's all it really takes, and with a particularly perfect movement of your fingers, you clench down on his cock in a harsh climax. You swear you see white for a moment, your toes curling in your heels, your back arching up from the wall behind you, the moan coming out of your mouth echoing around the hotel room. All you can do next is hold on as Jeryd’s hips stutter and his mouth comes down to bite on your exposed shoulder as he follows you to his own peak.

He spills inside of you, fucking his cum further into you while he thrusts through his own orgasm. A “fuck” falls from his lips, muffled by the skin his mouth is pressed into. You stay like that for a minute, heavily breathing and coated in sweat, his softening cock still inside of you. When you finally move away, he’s surprisingly careful. Setting you back down on your feet delicately before tucking himself back away. Your hands come up to instinctively cover yourself, feeling insecure now that he wasn’t actively fucking you. His hand grabs one of yours, removing it from its position in front of your breast as he steps closer to you. You speak first, quietly and full of question.

“I can go…” you look behind him for your clothing strewn across the carpeted floor.

“No. Stay the night, I meant it.” Jeryd pulls you into him, his larger form tucking around your body in a hug. He rests his chin on your head. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you go so quickly. Not after I’ve waited so long to have you.”

You smile at that, let him press a kiss to the top of your head before he grabs your hand and begins leading you to the bedroom. 

He’s passionate and possessive and caring and mean. You live in the shadows together, wrapped in deceit and white bed sheets. You never comment on the lack of his gold wedding band, and he never mentions the taste of vodka on your tongue. Your fights are brutal and sadistic, always ending in sex that would make the bed shake and leave your bodies sore for days after. It’s more of an alliance than an affair. It’s more of a tragedy than a comedy.

It’s more of a promise than a question.

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